r o m a n

Maia turned around slowly, the face opposite her wasn’t a familiar one and her hackles were immediately raised. She was too on edge after everything that had happened and it made her wonder if she would trust anyone outside of their little group again. 

“Do I look alright?” Maia asked, sharply. Stepping forward, a branch snapping underneath her feet. It had been a sudden and almost violent burst of temper, all she could see was Asteria’s body lying small and cold on the floor. She hadn’t felt like this in…well ever she supposed, it felt as though something soft in her had started rotting.

“No, really, tell me - do I look alright?”

he knows he should be making better choices than this. researching the witches, looking at his list of suspects at least, just trying to identify exactly how much risk they posed to the inhabitants of salem. seeing how much he needed to avenge his fellow hunters. but he couldn’t deal with thinking about that, not tonight. not after he’d listened to mason’s ramblings about something unnatural happening in the woods, and second-guessing each one of the girls he’d made contact with once he’d landed in salem. so he found himself at a bar, knocking back glasses of whiskey more quickly than would be sensible, all to burn away any feelings of doubt or guilt lingering in his stubborn mind.

status: closed for @romansantcs​ location: private study room @ salem’s public library 

   the weekend was spent in mourning; for asteria, for jack, for their hope, for herself. all light seemed to be lost, and with lixue leading the pack, ariadne hated to even think of the destruction, loss, and chaos the future brought. now she floated, unable to find momentum or guidance, with no leader to turn her eyes towards. like many of the witches, ariadne was at war inside, and desperate for a project. 

   so, her fingers found roman’s number once more, and she set up a second meeting, to go over more of the translated pages from the book of old runes. with mason on the loose and now fully aware of her witchy status, ari was terrified of being out of the hotel, so she wore large sunglasses and a head scarf, looking like a silhouette of aubrey hepburn as she breezed into the library and to the room, shutting the door. not suspicious in the slightest… 

   “sorry i am late,” ari greeted regretfully, almost always punctual, and feeling quite rude for her lack of time management. “i will not bore you with an excuse. you brought the book?” again, out of character; she wasn’t as polite, her tone clipped, nervous, anxious. even for roman, who hardly knew her, ari was not doing her finest. 

he’d spent a little time with mason since he’d come tumbling through his door, and heard some strange recounts of the events that had brought him there. mason had given him names as well, and roman was surprised to find familiar ones among the list. he’d met with ariadne at the fair, and although she’d been interesting, there hadn’t been anything definingly suspicious about her.

so when he received her call, he’d been conflicted. to go, and proceed with discussions as usual, or to simply make the accusations and press for a confession? he already knew she was one of them, but guilt... guilt was a more difficult beast to wrangle via hearsay.

where: roman’s home when: soon after the ritual status: closed for @romansantcs​

mason doesn’t think he’s ever been really scared in his whole life. as a boy, he’s been precociously confident in himself, something that was supported by his parents all along. as a teen and an adult, this confidence exacerbated and while he had some scares in his life, nothing compares to what courses through him now. he thinks it’s more than fear, it’s horror. his arm still hurts and so does the place on his heart and he feels like crying for the first time in so long. the screams of jack ring on his ears and he presses on, running and running and running. 

he doesn’t go back to peter’s. no matter how he wants to, he knows it’s the first place they will try to look for him. denial runs thick and yet – yet, how can deny everything that he has seen in the woods? how can he deny the woman floating above the air and the successive attacks made to him? how can he deny that was it not for ofelia he might not have had the chance to run away?

his fist comes down on roman’s door despite the hour and he is a pale ghost of the man he used to be when the man answers it, eyes wild and desperate. “ can – can i come in? quick? ”

he jolts at the sound at his door, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he makes his way over to the source of the noise. pulling open the door, he’s taken aback by the frazzled appearance of his fellow hunter. they hadn’t gotten much time to bond, what with their mission and all over the past weeks, but roman knew something had shaken mason up badly. “of course, man, come in.” he ushers the man in, sticking his head out into the hallway to check that no one was watching or following him.

when: saturday 6th june, in the early hours

where: the woods

who: open

This could not be happening. 

When Maia closed her eyes, all she could see was Asteria - rendered smaller still by death, just lying there - lifeless and cold. Her best friend was dead and it wasn’t fair and Lixue hadn’t even cared! She was just gone and it wasn’t fair at all, it almost surprised Maia how angry she was - how every emotion in her seemed to ricochet around like she was the center of a hurricane. She flitted around in her grief, nothing seemed to hold.

She’d tramped off into the woods, hoping that the familiar feeling of the floor against her feet would soothe her but Maia was just agitated. More than she ever had been in her life.

It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair.

Maia didn’t say anything, stumbling around before she finally let out a low noise of rage, slamming her hand against a nearby tree and if in answer, the nearby trees moaned and rattled. Maia inhaled sharply, leaning her forehead against the tree.

She wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come.

he was just trying to get a morning hike in: he’d woken up to a frantic mason seeking shelter with him for the night, but hadn’t quite managed to find the answers to the rapidly growing questions on his mind. something was up, roman was certain, something going wrong with their mission here in salem. the hunters had been picked off and targeted one by one, and he was struggling to retain a sense of normalcy before the die rolled his number.

ofelia couldn’t recall a time where she hadn’t been running. it was exhausting, but the kind of exhausting that released chemicals that in turn made it addicting. she wasn’t the kind who had childhood heroes, but if she had been, the likes of robin hood and calamity jane. those with a lust that went beyond corporate greed and lies, but one that never adhered for those with roots. luckily for her, she’d amputated any whisper of ‘roots’ when she left albuquerque without looking back. it was for this reason that she had been so resistant to genevieve and the coven. it wasn’t in her PLAN. the same plan that had been scribbled out, burned and changed a thousand times over. but a PLAN, no less. “ i’m a student at boston university. ” she blurted out. damage control was it? being a witch hadn’t been something she’d entirely tried to HIDE given that HIDING was in her DNA. “ i love all this witchy shit… ” she spoke at an impressive pace, flashing the man behind the desk an impossibly wide grin. she shakes any fear from her as a dog would river water, and continues to toy with the strap of her satchel as she waits. “ truly a lot. not for the…ignorant of heart, ey? ” her tongue wags at a much more hastened pace than allows her brain to configure, but she knows the moment she doubts what she is saying, the more exposed she’ll be. “ what got you into witchcraft then? ” the witch feigns intrigue, “ you’re not gonna whip out a crystal collection or a straw mini-me, are ya? ” her questions are rampant, much like her mind. but she breathes. 

“oh, boston!” his smile brightens as the conversation moves into even more familiar territory. the girl’s wide smile only encourages him to press on; she’s clearly not the shy type. “the campus is beautiful — you’re lucky to be there. it was one of the schools i considered a while ago. who’s your favorite professor?” he catches himself then, stops himself from rambling as he tries to rein his mind in to the task at hand.

Ariadne: my take? oh, i fear you have far too much faith in my opinion. i do not have the knowledge to truly offer much to you.

Ariadne: four? i- yes... yes. that works well for me.will your colleague be also coming?

Roman: don't underestimate yourself. a fresh pair of eyes often offers insights years of study would not.

Roman: unfortunately he won't be in attendance, but i'll loop him in on the key points of our discussion.

where?: the local library. when?: 22nd may, 10:21 am.  why?:  a bit of light reading to find out just why her and the people close to her are being persecuted.  who?: ofelia morrone and CLOSED.  the events that were unravelling against her will had eaten her up more than she would let on. magic had grown from a cheap hobby, like her very own crocheting project, or journalling, and manifested itself as something life-altering and spooky. her knowledge of witches has multiplied, and her SYMPATHY for the anti-hero only increased. was this really her destiny? the cliche, the same fucking cliche she spent so long running from. and for what? only to end up in a place with ‘home’ written all over it, that really, when you take a closer look at it, wreaks of ‘chaos’ and ‘disorder’. she feels it’s a CRUEL JOKE really, that she’s landed at the butt of. she’s confused, and you can taste it in the air when she over saturates her words in honey-mellowed satire and an untouchable sort of FERAL quality. “ hello i’d like to...BORROW this please. ” she shakes the book clutched between her fingertips for the only other person present in the library to see. there is a tangible uneasiness that provides a translucent overlay to her timbre. the truth of the matter was, she’d never been to a damned library and she had never INTENDED to start now. the title reads ‘the lies and the losses of the salem witch trials’. the title itself is nauseating,  but what’s worse is the overly-animated scribble of your typical god-fearing, bonnet-wearing, fear-ridden witch that dominates most of the cover. ofelia examines it for a brief second before extending her glances to the man stood behind the counter. “ i’m really dedicated to my craft. ” it was a lie. but the kind of lie that, once you realise it’s a lie, it’s already rolled off your tongue. she didn’t know what this CRAFT was or why she even said that. her conviction, however, accompanied by a burst of certain nodding, provided a layer of bubble-wrap to her indiscretion. 

@romansantcs​

it is a quiet morning, which affords roman plenty of time to clean up the shelves as he ponders exactly what kind of hole he’s dug himself into now. stuck in the middle of some bizarre territorial war between the witches and hunters, where both sides were clearly not afraid of getting their hands dirty. roman had expected to feel a little more righteous on this mission but – truth be told, he hadn’t yet seen any of the witches make moves against the innocent humans of salem, and his vendetta against them relied heavily on the stories from the other boys. his time at the school and at the library were a happy reprieve, then. an opportunity to continue his covert observations and his studies while deciding exactly where he stood.

IT FELT AS IF what she had gone through wasn’t real, like it was some fever dream that she was stuck in, but she couldn’t sleep and her body just felt drained of all light as she stared at the canvases piling up in the corner of her apartment. no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t paint like she normally did, everything she created taking a dark turn so she gave up. her stomach churned as she thought about meeting up with roman, she didn’t want him seeing her so down in the dumps, so cancelling their plans seemed like her only option. although he was persistent on seeing her, and telling him no again made her heart hurt. asteria really liked him, something about the boy made her smile and feel happy, so maybe him stopping by would raise her spirit?

AS THE DOORBELL chimed, she moved her paintings into the hall closet and padded across the floor to open the door. his smile was warm, and she tried to mirror it, even if it didn’t shine in her eyes as usual, “come in, i don’t mind.” asteria said softly, stepping out of the way as she tucked loose golden waves behind her ear and shut the door behind him. 

he knows asteria’s smile — they hadn’t known each other long but she always felt like sunshine when they met, so roman knew immediately that something was wrong when the light didn’t quite reach her eyes. he didn’t know what exactly it was, but his brows furrowed in concern as he considered whether or not to bring it up. he follows her into the apartment, setting down the takeout boxes on the dining table and beginning to unpack.

Ariadne: ...i would be interested in that, yes. only if you have the time, of course.

Ariadne: but yes, i am free. did you mean today, or later this week...? i could do this afternoon, maybe at the coffee shop center of town?

Roman: of course, it's no trouble. It'd be nice to get your take on some of the translations as well.

receiving the message had been alarming to say the least. asteria always seemed so warm and effusive, but her tone in the texts was... emptier. they’d agreed to meet for lunch the weekend ago, but just hours before their meeting time, roman received a message saying that she’d have to take a rain-check for personal reasons. “don’t worry about it — i’ll grab you some takeout and deliver it to your apartment.” deft fingers tapped at the screen quickly, and the message was fired off. he was already in the area, anyway, so it was no trouble at all to head down to the restaurant and put in an order for their usual lunches.

-saturday afternoon, the 23rd-

Ariadne: hello- hi, yes. this is... uhm, ariadne jiang. i believe we met at the annual wit- ahem. sorry. the witchcraft festival.

-she pauses-

Ariadne: i was wondering about the translation of that book.

Roman: miss jiang, of course. it's good to hear from you.

   “i just like old books,” ari offered a simple explanation, which she found was often a great way to throw off suspicious before it even existed. humans were, in her experience, all too simple; herself included. easy answers were just that, easy. more often than not, they’d be accepted and ignored, all raised questions thrown aside. “more than likely, it is worthless.” 

   she sure hoped, at least. yet, he seemed keen on keeping it, and when he mentioned the ability to translate- ariadne couldn’t help herself. “you are fluent in latin? that is so interesting. i tried myself, but was not too dedicated to it. dead languages, you know,” she laughed lightly, girlish and breathy, priming the setting for her next question. “do you study old books, too, then? perhaps you could share what you find within the pages with me?” 

“me too, to be honest.” he runs a hand through his hair. an easy answer, though certainly not the only possibility. but on the off chance things weren’t that simple, it’d be stupid of him not to put a pin in her for the future. at the very least a name, or something more identifying than pretty girl who had happened to pick up the same book as he had. extending a hand to her, he continues, “always good to meet a fellow nerd. i’m roman, and you are...?”

Aida looks up at the man and smiles apologetically. He seems disappointed at her words and despite the fact that she most definitely has no fortune-telling skills she figures she might as well humor the people that come up to the stall so the lady who’d asked her to keep an eye on the stand doesn’t lose any clients. “She said she wouldn’t be long if you’d like to wait?” Aida motions at the chair across from her.

“I could try to tell you your fortune myself but I’ll be honest, I don’t know how accurate it would be,” she says with an apologetic shrug, her hands hovering over the crystal ball in front of her in jest.

her sorry smile is enough to smooth out the edges of his disappointment, and roman takes a seat opposite the woman. he was willing to wait if he had to — it wasn’t like he had much else to do tonight, and if he could prove the fortune teller was truly gifted, that might help the others in pinpointing the other witches.

   “value?” ariadne questioned, eyebrow arching upwards. with slight hesitation, she decided to take the book, turning it over in her hands to look closer at it. sure, she’d had an inkling it held something special to her current…. predicament, to say lightly, but the idea of it having value in the real world came as surprise. with him still standing there, and ari painfully aware of his watchful eyes, she cracked the book open to take a peek-

   -and her heart dropped. “oh,” she sighed, closing it once more, and giving it a final look. with a light smile, stiff and poised and too polished to be genuine, she extended the binding to the other man. “unfortunately, i cannot read it. appears to be in latin, and i am not quite proficient. perhaps you will have use for it? i did not even know it could be worth anything, so better your hands than mine,” she was polite, gracious, but curiosity burned brightly in her eyes that a blind man could read her.

“you seemed so sure when you grabbed it — i assumed you knew it was worth something.” he shrugs, nonchalant. roman is careful to avoid labeling his own initial draw to the book, the runes carved on the side having made previous appearances in his own research. “maybe i just read too much into it.” and yet, maybe he didn’t. maybe the call of the book, the jolt of their hands meeting were just subconscious responses as his brain pieced together the different clues he’d been hunting down. maybe this woman was part of it all, even just tangentially.