#libcon

“From where do we come?” asked a child {a Veela} to their Mother.

And so the Mother said, “Listen close, my Child, as I sing you this sad tale

Which has drifted through our Broods on the winds of time, as the cottonwood snow;

We once shared a home with our cousins most Fair {translations indicate this to mean Fae}

In a paradise where the Mother’s magic blossomed and thrived {the Faerie Realm}

Our People believe there is power in Unity, and only by nourishing the Garden of the Collective with your solitary Blood can you truly be Whole {see also: Veelan Link of Kin}

Our Fair Cousins condemned our teachings, they thought us weeds to be rooted out,

‘A Blight!’ cried They, and so Blight we became {?? meaning unclear; further analysis recommended}

There could be no peace with their self-serving deals and bargains {faerie deals},

Nowhere for Chaos and Uniformity, for the Individual and the Sacred Shared, to coexist

Our People were persecuted by our once-trusted Brethren, forced to flee our Fertile Lands

But the Merciful Mother saw fit to Bless our People

And from forth the strong Roots of our Belief, the Bond of our Blood, 

Our Selfless Sacrifice, came Fruit–

A new world in which to lay down our Seeds and settle

Until such a time when we might reclaim the Soils of our Homeland

When there is {remaining text indecipherable}

The first thought that Theo had when she woke up that morning was that it was fucking cold in Antarctica.

But that was really nothing new; she’d been settling into her accommodations at the remote Brakebills South Research Institution, one of Lib-Con’s many hidden research facilities, for about a month, and still Theo had this same thought every morning.

The Librarians were obsessively secretive about many of the finer details of their operations and studies, but Theo had pieced together enough to know that because Brakebills South was located near one of the Earth’s poles, there was a large amount of ambient magic floating around the area that wasn’t being siphoned by any resident hedge witch covens. So Lib-Con was filtering it through a magical generator, of sorts, and using that to power the facility, cafeteria and dorm-style lodging.

So Theo knew all of that, she acknowledged its veracity. But in her educated opinion, it didn’t really matter that Brakebills South was being heated via magic. They were still in Antarctica, and it was still fucking cold.

The second thought that Theo had when she woke up that morning was that today was the day. She’d been waiting for this day for years; she’d studied and planned, strategized and prepped, and then she’d studied and planned some more.

But there was only so far strategy and plans could get her, in the end, and today was the day all her education and knowledge and hard work were finally going to be put to the test.

Today, Theo was going to meet him.

She was bound to be thrown some surprises going into a day like today, so it was extra important for Theo to stick to her daily morning routine; she got out of bed in the modest but manageable dorm room, and neatly made the bed. She put on a pot of strong coffee to brew, and then she did thirty minutes of yoga while listening to Laura Branigan’s 1982 power ballad “Gloria”—which Theo had been listening to every single morning since she lived in Canada, to the chagrin of her adoptive family when she moved back to New York and her college roommates at Waheela (though it could be argued that this was one of Theo’s less alarming quirks, and more just a minor inconvenience for those who shared space with her and preferred to sleep in).

She put on a cleansing face mask for precisely ten minutes while she drank her coffee (black), which was by that time at the optimal temperature. Then she scrubbed her face and took a hot shower for fifteen minutes, dried and styled her hair with magic for another five, and then dressed for the day—lots of layered thermals, in this climate.

Theo chatted cordially with a few of the researchers who were in the cafeteria while she picked at some breakfast, but she couldn’t stomach much—not with the task ahead of her at the forefront of her thoughts, not with her nerves thrumming in her belly.

So she ended up meeting the Librarians who were set to escort her to the other facility early, and they were on their way before the top of the hour.

The quote-unquote Containment Facility into which Theo was escorted looked less like a prison than it did the fucking ice castle from Frozen, Theo observed; the glittering fortress shimmered like it was made of glass against the blazing abyss of white that was a typical Antarctic day. It made the utilitarian academic lodgings wherein she’d been staying look positively drab, by comparison.

But it wasn’t ice, or glass, Theo discovered as she left her escorts to be searched at the facility doors and was debriefed inside; the entire structure had been built from a crystalline alloy that was only sustainable down here at the edge of the world.

And every inch of it was infused with cold-forged iron.

There were other precautions, too. They cloaked Theo head-to-toe in thick custom-warded clothing and gloves, all lined with a synthetic iron, and her face they covered with a mask made of multicolored glass, the explanation of which even Theo could barely follow when she asked about its purpose—something about auto-empathic aura reactivity theory, whatever that meant.

Honestly, it all seemed like overkill for one conversation, with one man. Even if that man was the most dangerous Veela in known history.

The room Theo was led into was empty, save for a table and two chairs on opposite sides. If would have been cold, probably, if she hadn’t been draped in so much heavy shit.

She set her recording device on the corner of the table, and turned it on. She opened up her notebook to a clean, white page, and took out a marker with a rounded tip—they’d warned Theo, in no uncertain terms, that sharp objects were strictly forbidden within the facility. Including quills and pens, apparently.

The wall opposite Theo made some sudden, mechanical sounds from the inside—like cogs turning within a clock. A portion of the wall slid open, and standing in that opening was a man.

Andries de Wit, infamous Veelan cult leader. Assumed dead by everyone outside these walls.

He was led to the chair opposite Theo by some wix who were covered in a similar fashion as Theo was, all standing a considerable distance away with wands pointed at his back. He had heavy iron handcuffs around his wrists, and these attached themselves to the table when he sat down.

For a man that was over a thousand years old—one of the oldest Veela in recorded history—Theo thought he looked pretty good. Like, she wasn’t usually attracted to men, in that way, but—she could understand the aesthetic appeal, if you were into that kind of thing. Andries de Wit was tall and broad, chiseled beneath the plain white jumpsuit he was wearing, and despite the fact that he probably rarely saw the sun in the castle-prison that contained him, his skin gave off a bronze, almost ethereal glow, like some Herculean god. And despite his age, he could have easily been mistaken by a No-Maj for a man in his mid-thirties.

He just stared at Theo for several long minutes with an absolutely blank, unreadable expression on his face—barely moving, barely even seeming to breathe. Theo squirmed in her seat in discomfort, feeling too hot in all these heavy clothes.

Finally, she said, “Cool, okay, so…I guess I should just get started, then? This is doctoral candidate Althea Elizabeth Rosi, and this is profiling session A1 with research subject Alpha-Zero-Zero-One, also known as Andries de Wit…” Theo said all of this to her recording device, but maintained eye contact with the man in front of her the whole time; he didn’t move, didn’t react. Didn’t even blink.

“Mister de Wit, could you talk to me a bit about the circumstances that brought you here?”

Nothing. Silence.

“How about The De Wit Group? Your involvement with that?”

Still as a statue; she might as well have been interviewing a brick wall.

“Can you tell me anything, Mister de Wit, or should I just pack it up and head home?”

And there—the tiniest twitch, at the corner of his mouth. Blink and you would have missed it.

That was something Theo could work with, at least. She knew this type of narcissist, and knew what it would take to get him talking. Or at least, she suspected she did.

Here’s hoping my hunch is right.

“Excuse me,” Theo said to the wix who were standing guard, “Can we have the room, please?” The guards looked at each other, and before they could protest Theo insisted, “I know what I’m doing, alright? And if he kills me it’s my own dumbass fault.”

They didn’t look convinced, at all, but Theo had been granted higher-level clearance for this, so there was nothing they could do to stop her, either.

And then it was just Theo and Andries de Wit, alone in a room.

She studied the man for a minute, and then removed the mask that was covering her face. She shook her head, her ponytail swishing behind her, and she said, “Whew, god, that’s better. I couldn’t breathe in that thing…”

The Veela watched Theo, his eyes never straying from the gaze that seemed to bore holes right through her. But he did relax, just a little—the slightest untensing of his shoulders, shifting fractionally into his seat.

Which, hey; it was progress.

Theo smiled, picked up her marker and started, “So, why don’t you tell me about—”

But Andries de Wit spoke right over her as he said, “Have you ever heard the story of the Cat and the Mouse?” His voice was deep and resonant, smooth like a note on a cello.

“The…the what?” Theo said, furrowing her brow and then pushing her glasses up her nose.

“The Cat, and the Mouse,” the Veela repeated, unhurried, accentuating each word, “Who decided to share a house for the winter—“

“Nice try, Hannibal Lecter. But this isn’t that kind of movie, and I’m not here to solve your little riddles.”

A smile spread across his face—slow, so maddeningly slow. A thousand years old and he had all the time in the world, and nothing better to do but wait.

And despite all her layers, it sent a chill rattling deep through Theo’s bones.

“Is that all you have to say?” said Theo, and the man just leaned back, arching a brow at her. Theo sighed. “Fine, then, I guess we’re doing this the hard way…” Her wand had been tucked up in her sleeve, hidden by the gloves. Theo angled her upturned palm at Andries de Wit and said, “Legilimens.”

But he was ready for her.

The second Theo entered his mind, it was like she’d dropped into an air raid. Blaring sirens, strobing lights—the sensory onslaught made it impossible to navigate his consciousness at all.

And not only that—the trap he’d laid for her in his mind was so disorienting that a few seconds too long and Theo risked getting trapped inside this man’s mind, losing herself completely—

She scrambled out of his head, gasping for air, tears streaming down her face. Andries de Wit’s facial expression hadn’t changed one bit. “Fuck you, you psychopath! I hope you rot in here…” Theo shoved up from the table and marched toward the wall she’d come in from, which whirred with those mechanical sounds as it made to open and release her. Not fucking fast enough.

In Muggle Folklore

Referred to colloquially as samodiva or samovila in the Veelan country of origin, Bulgaria, the Muggles’ perception of the Veelan race has been fraught with misconception. Locally equated with mythology surrounding fae, forest spirits, and wood nymphs, a brief compilation of relevant Muggle beliefs about Veela is as follows:

The name samodiva is formed by combining two separate words, ‘samo’ and ‘diva’. The former means ‘alone’, whilst the latter ‘wild’, or ‘divine’, hence the name literally means ‘wild alone’. The first part of the creature’s name signifies its avoidance of human beings, whereas the second indicates her wild or divine nature. {In truth, the Veelan race are highly secretive in what they share about their kind with magical and Muggle communities alike.}

The samodivi are always described as extremely beautiful women who never age. {Not quite factual; see sec. below: “Lifespan” for facts regarding Veelan aging.} They have long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Their attire consists of a long white gown made of moonbeams. Other legends depict them as ethereal maidens with long, loose hair, and in some cases, wings, typically dressed in free-flowing, feathered white gowns, which give them the power of flight. {Perhaps a historical perception of the Veelan Harpy form.}

Stories about the samodivi often portray them as being harmful towards human beings. Although these creatures enjoy dancing, especially when accompanied by the music of a kaval or shepherd’s pipe, they often either seduce or kidnap a shepherd to obtain that music. If an unfortunate human stumbles on the samodivi whilst they are dancing, he would be enticed to join them. The human, not being able to keep up with their pace, would die of exhaustion. Beginning at midnight and finishing at dawn, their dance symbolized the raw energy of both nature and the supernatural world. {No truth to the menacing intent behind this myth, but the Veela’s Dance has been known to evoke a trancelike response in some humans; see section below: “Active Abilities.” Also calls to mind the ritualistic birthing practices of Veela; see section below: “Veelan Conception & Birth”}

Some legends depict samodivas with an affinity for fire. They have the power to bring about drought, burn a farmer's crops, or make cattle die of high fever. It is said that, when angered, a samodiva can change her appearance and turn into a monstrous bird, capable of throwing fire at her enemies. {Another early reference to the Harpy form.}

They are usually hostile and dangerous to people. Men who gaze upon a samodiva fall instantly in love or in lust. Sometimes a samodiva would seduce a person, commonly a shepherd or a trespasser in her forest, and take them for her lover. However, in doing so, she would take all of their life energy. The person would then become obsessed with the samodiva and chase her relentlessly, unable to think of anything else. The samodiva, fueled by the energy stolen from her admirer, would then proceed to torture the person until he died of exhaustion. {See sections below: “Active Abilities” & “Passive Abilities” for facts which could have inspired such myths.} 

A samodiva's power is believed to come mostly from her long (usually blond) hair. A samodiva would sometimes give a small portion of it to her lover to strengthen her control over him via its magical effects. However, if her hair is damaged in some way, she will either disappear entirely or be stripped of her powers and beauty. {Little truth to this myth beyond the magical properties contained in Veelan hair, which is infrequently used as a wix wand core.}

A samodiva's close connection to the forest makes her knowledgeable about magical herbs and cures for all illnesses. It is said that if a person managed to eavesdrop on a gathering of samodivas he could also gain knowledge of these remedies. In many stories, this is exactly what the hero is forced to do to save a loved one, as a samodiva would never share her secrets willingly. In Macedonian folklore, samovila's are often seen that they have the ability to hurt people or to heal them. {See section below: “Passive Abilities” regarding accelerated healing.}

Veelan Conception & Birth

The process by which Veela bear children is not fully understood, but what we do know is that to become pregnant, a Veela must copulate with Intent, in sync with the Natural Harmonics of the area, and after a ritual involving one full Moon Cycle.

Births of newborn Veela commonly happen late evening or early morning while the moon is still visible. The birth of a full-blooded Veela is a dedicated occasion that involves a number of members of the community at once, as neither the conception nor birth are as typical as Humans. The birth of two full-blooded Veelan twins is a rarity amongst the species, and is a highly coveted, sacred occurrence.

Due to the mishap of the Birth of the Twins, the birth is overseen by members of the community to ensure no nefarious acts are occurring, that those involved are protected, and that the ritual can take place comfortably beneath the moon. The presence of a matriarch for the Veelan bloodline being sired is preferable during the birthing ritual.

Lifespan

A common misconception regarding Veela is that they are immortal; in truth, Veela do age, albeit very slowly in comparison to humans and even wix lifespans. Full-blooded Veela average a lifespan of one thousand years, while a half-blooded Veela will average 500-600 years. 

A Veela will mature at a rate comparable to humans through “puberty”; roughly 12-17 years after a Veela’s birth they will experience the most growth and development of their passive abilities, and after approximately eighteen years, a Veela is considered fully mature in their society, and will not appear to significantly age until the last 20-50 years of their life. It is likely this quality that perpetuates the myth of Veela being eternally youthful.

Passive Abilities

Known for their beauty, a Veela’s allure is in fact biological; most humans are drawn to Veela, and have been often noted to experience lust and desire while in the presence of a Veela at a heightened or even sometimes overwhelming rate. 

Full-blooded Veela possess the ability to transform into a winged, part-bird Harpy-form when enraged, and while in this form they can shoot fireballs from their hands. This shifted form has not been recorded as passed on to part-Veela historically; however, there are several cases of noted affinity to birds in particular, which is theorized to stem from the Veelan Harpy form.

Veelan blood has accelerated healing properties, which means those of Veelan descent heal from cosmetic wounds more rapidly, have difficulty maintaining piercings and tattoos, and are rarely known to contract common illnesses. Historically, Veelan blood was highly sought after by wix, often hunted for and sold on the medicine circuit to aid in healing. Veelan blood is noted to smell irresistible to vampires, and possess a drug-like high on vampires who consume it. Lesser known about is the healing qualities a Veela’s saliva can have on a human wound; in fact, the modern practice of kissing an injury to “make it better” comes from a very old Veelan medicinal practice of kissing an injury to heal it. 

Veela are generally highly in tune with the natural world, including plants and animals, and most report being more comfortable the closer they are to nature. Veela also reportedly possess a latent ability to sense energies that are not perceptible to most humans in a physical way, but it’s a sense that must be nurtured and developed; most Veela have been known to channel these mysterious energies into their own form of wandless magic. 

Active Abilities

The Veela Charm

“You have to feel it. It’s like fog; gentle and delicate, but enough for you to sense against your skin. It has its own waves, its own currents, and you, my darling, have the power to guide it. You can slip it into the minds of Men and haze them, make them believe whatever you desire, and bend them to your will to act however you see fit. Or, you can wrap it around despair and smother it where it stands, press it into wounds to cloud and ease their pain. It is up to you to choose how it is used, but however you choose— do it with conviction.”

Also known as glamouring or charmé, the act of imposing a Veela Charm on a human or Being involves drawing in express emotional energy from another and then pushing it back into the mind of the person being Charmed, along with the power of the Veela’s will. Those that are experiencing strong or otherwise turbulent emotions are significantly easier to Charm, due to the emotional expenditure they’re putting out. This is especially true of emotions related to desire and anger (’passions running high,’ related to the duality of the Veela’s alluring female form and the rage-fueled Harpy-form), but can be true also of jealousy, anxiety, sadness, worry, joy, disgust, fear, hatred, love, etc.

The nature of the Charm causes the person being Charmed to be susceptible to a Veela’s suggestion, to varying degrees; for the average or half-blooded Veela, the effect equates roughly to intense emotional coercion or persuasion, that when administered properly is often indistinguishable from the Charmed’s own wants and decisions. Those under the influence of a Veela Charm are noted to experience rosy vision, and an intensified desire to please the Veela who is Charming them by doing what they suggest. Full-blooded and more powerful Veela are able to gain such control over the mind of the Charmed, however, that they can fully persuade the subconscious to their own will, effectively altering the Charmed’s perceived reality. For all Veela, the ability to generate and impose a Veela Charm is a learned skill that can be developed and mastered with practice and time.

The most powerful among the Veelan race who experience the highest level of control over their abilities are even able to perform a Veela Charm on other Veela, though this practice is highly frowned upon in Veelan society {see subsection below: “Sins”} 

Less common but still practiced amongst some Veelan circles is imbibing non-sentient lifeforms, such as flowers and plants, with traces of the Veela Charm, which causes anyone in near proximity to the item to experience a highly diluted emotional effect based on the will of the Veela who performed the Charm.

The Veela’s Dance

When full-blooded Veela perform together in a ritualized dance, the effect on humans has been characterized as mesmerizing and even hypnotic, in such a way that those watching will enter a trancelike state in which they experience a loss of words, and will sometimes try to impress the Veela in foolhardy ways.

Link of Kin

Originally known as vrŭzka na krŭvta, or “bond of blood” in Bulgarian, the Link or Nexus of Kin is a phenomenon of consciousness connection between Veela in the same bloodline. While Linked, a pair or group of Veela experience an intense magical empathic connection which allows them to feel each others’ emotions on a sensory and telepathic communicative level, as well as share memories. This process is known to be calming and meditative--a heightened zen-like state similar to the ease Veela naturally feel in the presence of other Veela, but exponentially more powerful the more Veela are Linked. The “blood connection” is thought of as sacred and spiritual to Veela, whose long lifespans place particular gravity on family, lineage, and collective memory.

The Link of Kin is a learned process; however, very rarely, a Veela will be a Nexus Born Natural. Such a Veela would, from the earliest development of their abilities, experience an involuntary empathic connection with humans and other Beings, drawing in emotional energy with noticeable physical sensation, as well as sensing the “lifeforce” of the consciousness of others, and sometimes unintentionally mirroring or reflecting drawn-in emotions that are not their own. A Born Natural’s abilities are notoriously difficult to control and require dedicated focus and training to master, lest the Veela become overwhelmed by the constant influx of outside energetic stimuli.

Cold Iron

It’s been shown through some limited study that both passive and active Veelan abilities can be lessened, minimized, and even warded off entirely through the controversial use of cold-forged iron.

A process known only by Goblinkind and kept highly secretive by the same, the cold iron must be forged using a precise process, and then bound to the wix’s aura for the relative immunity to Veelan abilities to be effective. Any slip up in this process can result in disastrous, irreparable damage to a person’s aura. {Recommend further testing and study on the effects of cold iron in relation to Veela and wix.}

Veelan Society

Veelan society is largely matriarchal, with Veelan male offspring being something of a rarity in terms of percentage. Because of the long lifespans of Veela, a Veelan matriarch’s successor is selected prior to their death, and can be chosen from any of the matriarch’s Veelan kin, regardless of their age; often, a new reigning Veela matriarch will be selected based on merit and their contributions to Veelan society as a whole. 

Similarly, the death of any Veela is considered a great loss to the societal collective, and as such, the death of a Veela is mourned internationally. All Veela are made aware of their passing and permitted a compulsory mourning period for their fallen kin.

Sins

A set of rules taught to and followed by all Veela which, should they be broken, are considered Sin(s);

None should use the Charm against another Veela. Despite being difficult to achieve, if done the consequences can be exile or even death, depending on the nature of the Sin.

No other Beings are permitted within or around the spaces owned by a brood without prior approval by the Matriarch.

Veela & Other Beings

Veela & Were-Beings/Half-Breeds

With their connection to the moon and close relationship with animals themselves, Veela and Were-Beings tend to get on surprisingly well; they manage to find a common ground on many fronts, their Harpy blood lending to a softness and kinship.

Veela & Vampires: Siblings

{NOTE: THIS SECTION HAS BEEN MARKED AS SENSITIVE AND RESHELVED FOR FURTHER ANALYSIS}

...