lady whimsy .๏ฝฅ๏พ
occupation ; archivist at tomes and titles aka the local library
hidden agenda ; one of the heads of cerberus โ the coven of three under the worship of worldly witchcraft, primarily following hecateโs teachings along with @timelostheart and @bunniedior, we make the three heads of cerberus
aroma ; dried jasmine, rain on a full moon night, charred sandalwood, amber
this reality is one of many different experiences, most of which iโm not at liberty to divulge (mainly bcs i donโt quite know the full story of my life here). but that isnโt to say that itโs all a big secret. truth be told, without my magic, iโd be found out pretty easily. i donโt exactly do everything i can to stay hidden.
i come from a very long line of witches and warlocks, most of whom kept their abilities hidden, only revealing them to immediate family and trusted friends. those that chose to embrace their magic in a more expanded scale were considered risk takers, and were both revered and yet rebuked.
my parents were always the type to let me find my path, and while judgement and scrutiny was the cover from which they hid their fear for my safety, they realised very quickly that they canโt stop me from experiencing the life i choose.
but iโm not some vagabond, i find comfort in routine and i like having a home despite the adventures i partake in.
in a normal day, i spend my time at the local libraryโs archives. i sort, i catalogue, i read, i organise, i relish in the system that i hold dominion over, and i embrace every opportunity to work with those that require knowledge. iโve helped many writers, authors, researchers, students, journalists. everything in the cityโs history can be found in my archive.
but then there are days where more is asked of me, and thatโs the time i find myself slipping between bookcases, creeping under floor boards, opening passageways that creak with age and are muted by a magic so ancient it doesnโt have a time of creation. those are the days i get summoned to The Alexandria Athenaeum โ the centre of everything known as knowledge, the painstaking recovery of every tome, every scroll, every burnt edge of paper scraps that could be pieced together, a hidden haven of learning, and the respected meeting place for The Heads of Cerberus.
along with lina and tiffany, i traverse the pocket dimension of athenaeum halls to enter various libraries around the globe. our work takes us everywhere and our work entails that we restore and recover the knowledge of magical practices, bringing the knowledge back to the athenaeum so that it may be preserved, instead of misused.
our time elsewhere can mean that returning to normalcy is a jarring change, but thereโs always the amusing comforts of those that pique our interests. i canโt speak for my coven sisters, but, i do know that a certain cameraman caught my eye very quickly upon introduction. thin glasses, inquisitive eyes and a faintly fanged grin that makes him seem just as supernatural as me.
despite whatever progress he thinks heโs making in his investigations, it is always fun to share a tiramisu with him in some dimly lit cafรฉ, especially after spending a week in a random desert, trying to recover some ancient tablet of charm casting.
i find that there is whimsy in the most mundane of moments, whether it is summoning a scroll finder or sneaking kisses with a tousled haired photographer behind a bookcase.
wannabe warlock .๏ฝฅ๏พ
occupation ; lead photographer at the local newspaper
hidden agenda ; unofficial investigator of the intriguing archivist at the local library (and technically her two friends, though they arenโt quite his main focus but he wonโt admit that)
aroma ; black coffee, musk, film development solution, fresh snowflakes
his life was pretty normal โ a morning run, coffee, get to the bullpen with the latest prints, more coffee, follow leads with his team and capture front page moments, coffee for the third time, you get the picture.
that was until he met me.
and now there exists this undeniable pull to understand what makes my seemingly uneventful life so intriguing. where did i go for weeks on end, only to turn up with a random sunburn in the middle of winter? why did i always know exactly what to say, exactly what wasnโt being said, with the perceptivity of something unmistakably surreal?
questions such as these made sunghoon wonder whether he was stepping into investigative journalist territory. he wasnโt a writer. he wrote decently well, but his skills were for the visual arts, for finding the perfect moment between existence which could be pictured at just the right microsecond, and remain intact as a memory, frozen in time. in a way, it was like a practice of spell casting, to know exactly when to click the shutter, but that knowing wasnโt enough. not after i came into the field of view. the focus changed, the subject evolved, and then, there was more he needed to know.
so, amidst the daily papers, the unhealthy consumption of caffeine, and multiple concurrent stories that remained to be investigated, sunghoon took it upon himself to figure out what the local libraryโs archivist was hiding.
his attempts at playing detective are admittedly thorough, well documented, and quite frankly, a bit too smart for his own good. but whatโs the fun in being a witch if i donโt use my magic to my advantage? and so, i vow to only let him find my secret when iโm ready for him know. until then, moonlit walks and sharing work anecdotes over cinnamon cocoa were more than enough.
i donโt think he expected to fall in love, and i can honestly say that i didnโt either. but isnโt there just something so magical about the artistry that binds two souls together? one that seeks to preserve knowledge while the other seeks to preserve experiences. fortunately my seer self can service a glimpse into the future of these two celestial bodies.
(call it intuition, if you will) ;
i already know that every moment will feel picturesque, he sees beauty in the mundane the way i capture the whimsy in it. there isnโt a moment that canโt be cherished for what it is, while being cemented as yet another brick in the foundation from which we build our own archive, our own life. and i feel the fear of the unknown, to not understand how this will work, how we will make it work, but given my clear advantage in knowing things, itโs weirdly nice to experience what he must feel โ to simply be at the whim of existence, and choose to find comfort and confidence in oneโs own autonomy. and despite enjoying the sense of โnormal peopleโ, i always remind him that everyone is magical in ways that canโt be seen, everyone has the capacity to create magic, whether itโs a charm, or a spell, or a wish coming true, everyone has power. even my beloved wannabe warlock, cloaked in the red light of his dark room, with pictures hung on strings running along the ceiling, he creates magic with every moment he memorialises, and i love when i can spot one of those moments with my face smiling back at me.
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chaaiโs dr archive
2026 ยฉ chaaistained
