#misskhep

They kept the souls of those they reaped and used music to puppeteer both them and the dead into doing the bidding of their boss, The Wisp King.

Their was no real rhyme or reason to what they did. They're a rogue reaper, having disposed of their ferryman and just amassing an army for Wisp. Nothing they did was for money, not for fame, they do what they do for fun. Nothing more and nothing less.

A scene that lives rent free in my mind from this story is the two protags (Connor and Nial) coming to apprehend Stapes at an underground club they were DJing at. Only to realise too late its a trap, that the bodies dancing around them are corpses, one of which is the former partner/love interest of Nial.

Vs Strahd campaign Stapes

Strahd stapes is a different creature. Rather than a rogue reaper we have a changeling bard with a taste of necromancy. Instead of someone who fucks with the dead for naught more than fun, we have someone who does it for a reason....even if that reason is conning rich people.

ST!Stapes is less evil and more neutral, a little more sarcastic, comedically neurotic, doesn't want to help unless they get something out of it.

The sparks that come to life on his fingertips are nothing compared to the way her eyes light up at the sight. It's not too much effort to summon a flower into his hand, but Camille's smile still brightens like it's some grand gesture as she watches. Once it settles between his fingers and the glow fades from around his hand, he offers it to her. His head nods in combination with the move, a further gesture that it's hers to take if she'd like it.

She would, so she does. There's a hint of hesitation, and she spends the first few moments looking over the item as if inspecting it, though more in fascination than doubt. He can see the hint of red on her cheeks, though, as she then folds it under her palms and against her chest. She thanks him for it and expresses her interest in the small feat, trying to hide her pseudo-flustered expression at the flattery of the gift.

Arthur reassures her that it's not too much of a trouble. A simple spell really; not the very easiest, but usually one that can be learned fairly easily. It's only moving an item from one place to another. That's easy enough to do without the flashy show. The magic only saves a bit of time, really.

She waves off his dismissal of the act, though, trying to reassure him in turn that she doesn't know how to do it, so it must not be that easy. She expects it to be dropped at that. For him to acknowledge the statement, the gratitude, and move on with his show. However, his brows drop a bit and his lips purse ever so slightly in that thoughtful way she recognizes of his.

"Would you like to?" he finally asks, then a half-second later, adds just in case, "Learn how to do it?"

She can't help how her eyes grow just a little wide in a touch of excited surprise. "Do you think I could?" she questions, keeping her voice cautiously optimistic. She wouldn't expect that he could teach her the whole spell quickly enough for him to justify suggesting it, but she'd be lying if the thought of being able to do what he'd just done didn't appeal to some part of her. "I mean, I'm not exactly a magical sort," she admits.

His arms cross and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, letting his head tilt slightly in the direction he moves. "I'd argue that. I've had the food you make. Even I can't do anything as marvelous as that." He doesn't try to dodge it when she reaches out, batting a hand on his arm in light protest of the level of his compliment. Instead, he chuckles and shrugs, adding, "Besides, you don't need to be inherently magical to do a great deal of magic. It helps, sure, especially with the bigger spells, but it's definitely not a requirement. I mean, this isn't Harry Potter or something." He falls silent long enough to think it over, before nodding his head slightly. "Yes, I'm sure it wouldn't take much time at all. I could get you at least close before I have to return home."

His lip cracks up into something of a smirk, as he further admits he'd managed to teach some of his younger siblings a handful of things back when they were still colonies. He'll acknowledge some of them have resisted use or even forgotten in recent years, but the teaching itself wasn't an issue. "Believe me, if I could teach Alfred how float things, Matthew how to make small flames, or the Oceanics...," his words drift for a second in consideration before he shakes his head a little with the slightest of dismissing shrugs, "anything really, I can teach you this." Then his arms unfold, right hand reaching for her empty left and taking a palm in fingers, letting his thumb run softly on the back of her hand. "I know you're brilliant. You shouldn't have any trouble at all, especially with me teaching you."

Something about her seems to brighten at the compliment, even just a little, before she moves in a sharp turn to the counter near by. She sets the rose down, next to a bag of flour and a measuring cup they still had yet to put away from their earlier baking. It feels like a safe enough place to rest it while she works with him on this miniature lesson to pass the five or so minutes left until their batch of cookies is ready.

When she returns to facing him, he takes her hand again, then the other, and lifts them both up between them. He helps mold them into a cup-like shape, curling his own around hers to support them. The actually formation of the hands isn't as important, but he's found it's harder to control where an item arrives on early tries, and having the hands positioned like so should make it easier to catch. He shows a warm smile to her when she gives an uncertain one to him, and he speaks up to reassure her at the look of uncertainty slipping onto her features that there really isn't much to it. No special stance or gestures or words or anything. So far, she's already doing quite well.

She offers that she'd expect a bit more. Most media that speaks of magic portrays it as a difficult art to learn. If it's not something you're born with automatically, it's something that takes practice and practice and more practice to get the steps perfectly right.

He nods in confirmation, admitting that practice and care are important, and that the more complex a spell is, the more steps required, usually. The more that can go wrong if one does make a mistake. He also adds that if they were trying to summon something larger, that'd be more work, too. Size and energy and a number of other factors can make the effort required for the spell increase greatly. "But we'll just start with something small," he tells her, letting his expression soften for a second before it suddenly splits to release a sharp laugh. When she lifts an eyebrow at him, he notes that he had some bad experiences in the past with trying to summon more advanced things and he thinks it's better for both of them if they avoid that for the future.

Camille smiles in the way of one understanding an inside joke has been made, without having the experience to fully understand it, and nods back in confirmation. "That seems like a good idea, yes." She turns her eyes from his and back to their hands then, consciously having to resist the urge to keep readjusting her feet into what she'd picture is a more proper stance. "So... I cup my hands like this, what next?"

He tells her to take a deep breath and then close her eyes, before doing the same himself. It's a step that's not as required for him due to his practice, but he remembers it made things easier when he was first starting out. After a few seconds, he cracks an eye back open, just to confirm that she's followed his instructions, before letting it fall back closed again. His voice remains low, gentle in volume but otherwise firm. He acknowledges how he's noticed how intuitive she can be sometimes, so he expects the next part to come more easily to her than he's seen it for others.

At this, she's the one who cracks an eye open, raising an eyebrow, too. Her lips twist ever so slightly, a frown falling onto her face as she tries to consider what he might mean about that. She knows she's relatively good at reading people, at knowing just what to say to make a person feel better when she wants to help them, but she wouldn't expect being a little more empathetic with people to be a key factor in magic, at least not for summoning inanimate objects. Still, she keeps doubt out of her mind as she closes her eyes again. Arthur's clearly mastered the skill, or at least learned it well enough to be teaching it anyway, so she trusts what he says even as she waits for him to explain.

"You see, a lot of people don't realize this- don't want to or just can't -but there's magic practically all around us." He continues, talking about how there are obviously some places where it's stronger than others, ley lines and the like, but there are small deposits of it everywhere if one just searches for them. "Most miss them, though. If people can't see it with their eyes, they like to believe it's not really there," he adds, allowing a little bit of judgement to pepper his words, before he makes his tone ease again.

Camille questions if she'll need to sense the energy then to do the magic. It's a little needless; she can guess as much from what he's said so far, but she also wants to be sure, just in case an assumption has led her astray. His smile grows again, though, this time in a little bit of admiration, as he confirms that's exactly right. He explains that the body has its own natural energy and that attuning it to the magic around one's self is needed to properly guide the magic towards the desired use for it.

"I've always found it to be a lot like breathing without actually breathing- not that you shouldn't breathe while doing so, but that-," he falters as he tries to find a good way to explain what his thoughts are. "Take another deep breath in, slowly, and hold it for a few moments," he instructs, waiting until he can hear the sound of her inhale to continue speaking. "Do you feel how your chest expands out, how you can feel the pressure of the air spreading through your lungs, filling them up, waiting with a growing eagerness for your exhale? It's like that, but not just your lungs. It's your whole body you're filling up this time.

"You open yourself up to the energy around you, you invite it, you draw it inside you, and you hold it there, in the core of you, until you are ready to breathe it out again. The exhale is the spell, summoning an item or creating a spot of light or warming a cup of tea. You release that energy, that magic, and let your preparations guide its function."

"Preparations?"

He spares a chuckle. "I didn't mean it like that," comes the reassurance, acknowledging the word choice could imply there are steps still to be done. He reminds her that he'd said different spells required different levels of steps, but the one they're focused on only requires thought. "You do have to keep a clear focus on what you want, picture it in your mind, but we won't have to go fetch any candles to light or anything," he says with a breath of a laugh.

She questions what she should picture, getting a somewhat simple response that it could be almost anything, provided it could fit in her palm. He also recommends something close, citing that closer proximity to an item lowers effort as well, so something in the same room might work best. He offers up a few simple suggestions, a stirring spoon sat next to the sink or one of the mugs stored in a cabinet nearby. He says it should be something easy for her to think of, though. If she can hold the image of it in her mind, imagine what it would be like to carry its weight, feel its texture against her skin, it'll be that much easier to focus the magic onto the exact item and where she wants it to be.

She falls quiet in thought and he takes the chance to lift his eyelids again, watching her consider her options. Her face has scrunched up slightly, really pondering what a good choice would be. It's only after she takes another deep breath, before her own eyes snap open and she smiles. "I've got it," she declares, nodding her head a little with a bit of resolution. She closes her eyes again when Arthur nods as well and instructs her to give it a shot, then.

He keeps his eyes open, though, still watching her focus. He notices she finally can't help it and moves her feet slightly to fix her stance. She takes another breath, slow, holding it, before releasing. He can tell she's trying very hard to find a balance, a stiff focus on the image in her mind while keeping herself relaxed enough to reach out to the magic and wrap herself up in it. She takes another breath to try again, then another, and another still. It's after that that she speaks up, and he has to answer her on when she'll know that she's actually drawn in magic and not just air.

He thinks for only a moment. "It's warm," he explains, before further clarifying, "but not hot. Like holding a hot drink on a cold day, you'll feel it seep through you. It's... this tingling sort of comfortable heat, like...," he trails off again, trying once more to consider his words before settling on a better option, "like this." His experience does not require deep breaths or closed eyes to better picture making the energy around them just a touch more detectable. It doesn't require too much focus, he's only amplifying what's already there. If he can make it a little stronger, make it a little easier for her to pick up on, he hopes it will help her on her own. After all, it's much easier to look for something after being able to see what one should be looking for.

With his eyes still on her, he can notice her body shift in recognition of the extra sensation, before her mouth opens into a grin as she laughs. He laughs too, quieter, but still finding hers contagious. He remembers the first time he really felt that as well, and it's a good memory to come back on even just in the moment. He lets the effort linger a few more moments before allowing it to wane, easing its presence in the area back to normal. It's as he does that he can pick up on her immediately trying to lean further into that feeling. She's attempting to hold onto the rope of it and pull it back from where it's being dropped, and his smile holds from that, pleased to see her able to so naturally make that effort. It takes a few moments, but he can feel that energy growing across from him, being gathered up little by little, strands plucked from the air around them and intertwined piece by piece into something more substantial.

Her voice is quiet when she speaks next, daring not to go above a whisper lest she lose her concentration and all the effort of drawing that energy towards her. "I just picture it, then?"

He nods as he continues to watch her, then remembers himself and speaks aloud, confirming her statement as correct. She takes another breath and her smile grows once more, and this time he breathes deep as well and can smell the scent in the air, too. It's not hard to guess at what she's settled her thoughts on. He keeps his voice low as well, not wanting to break her focus either, but reminding her to hold on to that image of it in her hand. If she's held it before, she can hold it in her hand again, it should be so easy to do so, right? She can make that happen, he knows she can.

Sure enough, a few more seconds pass and he can see sparks appearing over her hands, too. They're not quite the same. His are quicker, sharper, they burst into air with a bright flash of light and then fizzle out just as quickly. Practice makes perfect, but practice often also makes hasty, and the lack of effort on his part turns the whole thing into a flash in the pan sort of ordeal. But for her, the sparks bubble into existence, growing and popping like water just beginning to boil, before fading back into the slowly building glow overtaking their palms. When they flicker away entirely, a cookie is left in their place that falls into Camille's hands with a faint thwump of a noise.

It's immediately followed by a yelp of surprise as she instinctively draws her hands inward a bit, before trying to bounce the cookie between her palms in a way that won't let its harsh heat touch her palms for too long. She turns towards one of the cabinets, but Arthur speaks up, directing her attention back as he waves his hand, following through on the motion until a plate appears between his fingers. He sets it on the counter to their side and she drops the cookie onto it a moment later, before quickly turning her attention to her hands, shaking them slightly and trying to blow on them to ease the slight ache.

"Here," Arthur announces as he reaches for her hands yet again, looking over them himself while starting to rub thumbs in circle patterns over the hurt spots. He can feel her twitch back a little in surprise when his touch becomes ice cold for a few moments, but she allows herself to ease moments later, enjoying the soothing touch. "Are you alright?" he questions, waiting for her to answer either in the affirmative or direct him to where the most damage has been done. The response he receives instead is not exactly matching his expectations.

"I did it...," she says, a breath of a sentence, and it gets Arthur's eyes to lift and meet hers. There's a smile growing back onto her face, and there's that shine in her eyes once more that has him mesmerized all over again. "I did it!" she declares again, excitement building as it sinks in, before her expressions falters long enough to ask him to confirm he didn't do anything for her. When he answers, immediately waving off the very idea of doing such a thing, that elation comes back even stronger, and she bounces on her feet, declaring again, "Then I did it!"

There's always something about her that makes him want to smile, and that's never more true than when she is wearing a grin, too. Her joy is always infectious in its strength, and he finds himself watching her celebrate for a few moments more, contemplating about how beautiful she looks when she's like this. "What did I say?" he asks after another beat, "You're brilliant."

Her smile withdraws just a little, and she shakes her head slightly, nodding back to him. "I couldn't have done it without such an excellent teacher," she teases back, before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

It's the ding of the kitchen timer a second later that pulls her back. She starts to turn back to the oven, but spares a big hug and a quick word of thanks before she goes, said with an emphasis to ensure he understands how much she appreciates the effort spent on her. He answers that he was happy to, would be happy to further their lessons again later once they have the rest of the cookies out. She considers, ultimately agreeing she thinks she'd like that, too.

It's not as quick without magic, but it only takes a minute or so to fetch the oven mitts and pull the cookie sheet from out of the oven. Camille has taken up a spatula and started to slide one of the cookies off when she remembers the plate already set out now to set the treats on. She asks if he can bring the plate over, looking over her shoulder just in time to catch him popping the last piece of the first cookie into his mouth. She makes a little sound of surprise, before shooting a pseudo-scolding look at Arthur, even if her lips still show a smirk.