#shadowedmagic

🖋 grabbing [ auuuuu 350$ penalty ; ACCEPTING ]

* IS GRABBED *

[ hey what if forge/magmatic AU

I want you to think about Willow, always ready to fight and put herself first, notice how... not everyone is like this. How Wendy, and Webber, and Wes, and... so many in her group can't really keep on fighting forever, and with most of them not really used to use magic either it's clear that each round is going worse and worse.

And that's why she decides to take things in her hands and the next time everyone is forced in the arena... don't ask HOW, maybe Wolfgang throws her, maybe she actually climbs her way up, but she actually reaches Pugna, pointing a spear at his throat.

His guards rush in to take care of her, but in return she just presses a little more.

“I'm going to come back to life even if you kill me... but can we say the same about you?”

She won. She actually won the war, for what she knows - Pugna promises he’s going to let them go, and everything seems fine...               ...except that, by defeating the Battlemaster himself, she’s chosen to become his new Champion. She showed a determination and a strenght no othersdid, and for that, just as the portal back to the Constant is open, she’s taken away and filled with pure fire magic to take care of any other pawn the Queen sends in to partecipate to the games.

But... it’s good, right?

All she wanted was for everyone else to be safe, and... yes, technically she’s still Pugna’s prisoner, but she became fire itself. Impossible to touch, or even stay around her without getting burned, able to set things on fire with nothing but a snap of her fingers, the flame inside of her shining bright for all eternity.

The Forge’s Phoenix.

[ cont ]

...that’s one way to start a conversation, Charlie. Catching him off guard, making everything much more awkward than it had to be... she’s starting to believe that’s her speciality!  What would her mother think?

And yet, when she noticed that man, she couldn’t help herself. Charlie never truly believed in magic, before transferring to the big city, but after going to one of his shows - in a terrible spot, with an awful person she agreed to go out with just because she was curious and desperate to have a night out of her sorry excuse of an apartment - she could finally understand why people did. She would’ve loved to exchange some words with that odd English man once the show was over, to understand some of his tricks, but between her ‘date’ and the dozens and dozens of other members of the audience having the same idea she had to give up on that thought.

So, when she met hat amazing magician walking around town just a few days later, Charlie genuinely believed that fate wanted to give her a second chance at that. All she needed was the right line to break the ice, something that wouldn’t make her seem obsessive or desperate or... whatever that poor man might think of her. 

Clearly, she failed miserably! Before he spoke, she almost worried she made a mistake.

“Oh, no, my apologies! I shouldn’t have bursted in like that.” there we go, much better. 

“I just... didn’t get the chance to personally compliment you last week, at your show, and I told myself... Hey! What if I do it now, unprompted and out of nowhere?”

Wendy had considered this approach for awhile. Ever since another had taken possession of the Nightmare Throne and displaced Maxwell, it was a question that burned in the back of her mind. One she didn’t know if she should ask. It wasn’t in her nature to mince words. She was known for saying things that unsettled others or asking questions when no one else would. This, however, was different. There was something inherently...personal to this one.

When she had made up her mind, the only thing still holding her back was the cautious whispers of Abigail trying to dissuade her from approaching the former king. She thought it was a bad idea. She thought it would unearth something she didn’t want to find. For awhile, she listened and kept her distance. She would keep quiet and avoid contact where she could, all for the whims of her deceased sister. She had always been her guiding light, after all. 

But even she had a limited pool of patience and still she held onto the inherent intrigue of a child. That, and there was little point in delaying the inevitable. Such a lesson she learned from the grief befallen her after Abigail’s death. 

With small hands folded neatly behind her dirty red skirt and blonde hair falling in tangles in front of hard to read eyes, she thought a moment longer, then raised her gaze to where she might find the sharper features of the disgraced magician. “Why did you bring me here?” She asked flatly and she could hear the distant hush of Abigail keeping watch a few meters away. She let the words linger and fester before canting her head towards her shoulder and tracing pupils along his strangely familiar face. “Was it on purpose? I guess I haven’t been the best daughter in recent times...”

Battle Theme: The Grey Crow - Death's Door OST

Battle intro: "Really done it this time, haven't ya, Max?"

Victory: "Don't come around here again."

Defeat: "...why do you hate me?"

Assist: "Can take a hit're two fer you, bud. Maybe."

Taunt: "No parlor tricks here, fella."

Reacting to Taunt: "Now that's just rude."

Flee: "Oh, now four against one just ain't fair."

Reacting to Flee: "I know these woods better than anyone, buddy. I will find you."

Tie: "Much as I don't want to, I think we ought 't call this. Snow's startin' to come down hard, best not to get caught in it."

Perfect Victory: "Yer not really so tough, are you?"

« is THAT charlie? » from william?

“What? Where??” Willow squeaked, trying to follow William’s eyes to finally see that damned Queen... and, really, not having many troubles finding her considering she was followed by Terrorbeaks.

Frankly... she was disappointed. Is that even the right word? It’s not like she had particularly high expectations, really, but considering how the last ruler of the Constant looked like, that seemed like a completely normal pretty woman! That’s the reason they’re still stuck in there?! A middle aged woman with funny eyes?!

[ :) ]

Charlie wasn't sure of what brought her to speak to him, to be quite honest.

Simple boredom, she thought at first. It kept bothering her in the last few days, enough to make her defy her captors most loyal subjects - Them, the throne, you name it - and step away from her safe haven - her own personal part of that corrupted world - and interact with her pawns face to face; or, maybe, it was the more monstrous part of her, the one she still couldn't fully control once night fell, hostile and sadistic, who saw him as an easy prey.

Maybe she simply wondered if his dwindling sanity would make him think she wasn't even there to begin with - that she was nothing but an apparition his corrupted mind created to torture him even further.

...but did that even matter?

After all, she spent the entire day following him already. It wasn't rare for Maxwell to not ask for help to the other survivors - stubborn as he was, she was surprised his companions still tried to offer their assistance -, but seeing him fight on his own was always... should she call it amusing? Interesting?

Again, it's a mixture of curiosity and sadism. And maybe, deep down, something more, something stupid and weak that she's much rather ignore.

"Always with that surprised tone..." the Queen spoke again, her jovial yet cold voice echoing behind every rock, every tree, even inside his own shadow -- everywhere the setting sun couldn't reach -- before finally appearing behind him, seemingly rising from the ground.

[ personals dont rb please! ; NOW CLOSED ]

[ this can just go so well ; ACCEPTING ]

The Caves are awfully lonesome. So cold, so dark, so boring and full of rocks and stons and whatnot... and yet, that's where the Imp hid in the past few weeks, and where he would've stayed for much longer if that meant avoiding the wrath of good ol' Krampus. As far as he knew, he (or... they? Wortox hanged out with just one of them, but as far as he knew there were plenty, running around the Constant) was still pretty upset for the whole "going against his plans and accidentally stealing his soul" thing.

With a long, tired sigh, the Imp let himself fall on his back, wagging tiredly his tail and moving a hand on his fluffy chest.

"So unfair, what a bore!" he chanted to an imaginary audience (or, perhaps, to the Queen, if by any chance she was lurking in the shadows) "Is this what I'm fated for? A life of misery deep in the cave? Silence and Shadows, 'till They put me in my grave?"

An ear perked, however, just as soon as he was done lamenting: was it his imagination? Perhaps, his own voice echoing? No, certainly not! He recognized those bickering, that banther, that delightful comments filled with annoyance and tiredness! Why, the humans went down there to gather resources, finally! His wagging got much faster as he poofed from his lying position, getting back on his feet a few inches away from it, looking around in search of the source of all that ruckus. True, showing himself to a bunch of scaredy cats wasn't the best of plans... but perhaps they might at least make him feel less lonely.

And. Aaaand? Maybe take care of any Krampii who tried to mess with him?

"Are they mad? Is it summer? Why would they be here for?