#august 03.

“So do the rest of us form some kind of club or something? Support group for covenless witches who don’t have anyone to console them after major magical events?” She thought about Brielle and her lips draw into a thin line as she perches herself at the bar and crosses her legs at the knee. Her aunt was a socialite, a housewife, and the woman was either locked away in her home or strictly with another Amaranthus witch. It’s not like Marcella felt neglected by her, but she did feel like she was missing some kind of friend to lean on. Especially with her magic now that Casper was a vampire, she still had his family, but they were hundreds of miles away. Brielle had pushed the coven concept from the moment she’d set foot in Rome as a child and perhaps her spiteful avoidance of them was foolish. She was getting older, her and Casper weren’t getting any less serious, maybe putting down roots wasn’t such a bad thing. “Unless you’ve abandoned me to run off to summon whatever for whoever.” @augustcavaliere​

“Ah, this place is truly a den of sin.” They’re leaning very heavily into their persona for the evening for no ones amusement but their own. The bible in his hand is hollow and he pulls a flask from it to take a quick sip of tequila he may or may not have pilfered from Fates’ own shelves. It’s offered to August, along with a raised brow and inquisitive expression that gives way to a mischievous grin. The market is cool, he thinks this vampire lady knows how to throw a cool Halloween party at least, but he’s more interested in whatever shenanigans that are bound to happen in a place that seems ancient. “I do hope you’ll be keeping room between yourself and Eren, you never know what can happen with mixing magical beds and all that, I hear there were rumors of a male eladrin pregnancy. I’m not going to be an uncle, I’m in my prime.”