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kariachi · 11 months

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Welcome back to Achi climbing out of bed in the middle of the night to ramble. Tonight’s topic: MasterSinger Merelan.

Now I’ve mentioned before how fucking weird it is that in the Menolly books and beyond it’s treated as this shocking, weird-ass thing that a girl could be a proper student at the Harper Hall. Everyone acts like your only options are to be a fosterling/paying student (aka ‘you aren’t here to learn music you’re here to make connections’), be somebody’s wife, or be a general worker. Everyone acts like this has always been the case, or at least the whole of the case in living memory.

But Merelan. The last two MasterHarpers were directly related to this woman, who was very clearly not only a member of the Harper Hall but also incredibly well respected. Yet both of them act like the very idea of considering that maybe a girl could be taken in as a proper student in any capacity is tantamount to asking the Weyrs not to fly Fall. I could understand them being reluctant to do anything that could even hint at being replacing her, but to act like the idea is entirely unprecedented just- What the fuck dudes?

(And this isn’t even getting into the DLG giving us a lady Harper who ended up marrying the Lord of Ista in the far past. Yadda yadda ‘the DLG isn’t canon’, it’s only as contradictory as the books themselves, and it’s statement that ladies have been allowed in several Halls for a good while and the Harpers just got dramatic about it, presumably to present themselves as progressive, tracks better with the sudden ‘what no ladies can’t be Harpers ladies have never been Harpers don’t you dare look at that portrait behind that curtain’ shit than the proper books do.)

And that brings us to another thing buzzing in my brain right now- Meralan is referred to as just Singer multiple times, but is also given the full title of MasterSinger. This is, such a big fucking deal and I don’t know how other people haven’t seemed to notice, how did I not notice-?

First up, Singer as a title brings up some interesting concepts about the potential inner workings of the Halls. We know Harpers as teacher, composer, musician, singer, but for Singer to exist as its own title means it’s its own distinct subcategory. Which leads to questions, the main ones being 1) is this a distinct ‘ladies can’t be Harpers so we’ll call them this’ situation (in which case why not recommend Menolly for the position), 2) if it’s not, is ‘harper’ the generalized term/title (like how you would call your cardiologist ‘doctor’ even though there’s a specific job title), 3) or is ‘harper’ more a term for generalists (people who teach and compose and sing and play etc) while specialists get the more restricted title (singer, player, teacher, scholar, etc), 4) if any of these are true, then are there similar situations in other Halls (does the Minecraft Hall have Miners, Cartographers, Lapidarists, etc?) and if so what are they?

We don’t learn much to help is those questions, though we do know that Merelan was considered a Master in her own right, that she was a Big Deal, and that she had her own students.

But, more than that, much more than that, she’s titled MasterSinger. One word.

A Harper who’s reached Master rank is a Master Harper. A Smith who’s reached Master rank is a Master Smith. Master Miner. Master Healer.

MasterHarper is the title of the head of the Harper Hall. MasterSmith is the title of the head of the Smitchcraft Hall. MasterMiner heads the Minecraft Hall. MasterHealer heads the Healer Hall.

MasterSinger...

I don’t doubt Anne didn’t give a second thought to what that title says about her worldbuilding, but I’m not Anne and so I can. MasterSinger Merelan having that title, in a singular word, implies that she’s not just a singer, not just a Singer, but in charge of all the other Singers on Pern.

Singer is never treated as it’s own crafthall in the series, not to my knowledge, and that makes sense. The Harper Hall covers everything else music and with it the oral histories of the civilization, so it makes sense that Singers would also be lumped in there. But for there to be a MasterSinger says a whole lot about 1) the status of Singers (namely, that they’re likely equal to Harpers as far as Crafthall politics if nothing else, if this was just a minor position among the hierarchy, or even just ‘we give women this so they can be included’, likely there wouldn’t be a MasterSinger), and 2) that one way or the other they were more-or-less self-governing within the Harper Hall. Again, single word Masters, everywhere else in the series, are treated as more-or-less on par with Lords and Weyrleaders as far as power and status goes. It’s a big deal. Meaning that it’s entirely possible that MasterSinger is supposed to be either second only to the MasterHarper or, more likely I think, on equal footing with the MasterHarper.

The power imbalance in place by Merelan marrying Petiron and him being... Himself, may well have fucked up what was supposed to be functionally a dual position- with the MasterHarper managing composing, teaching, and that whole branch and the MasterSinger being in charge of the actual learning to sing and to play. It would also make sense with just how expansive the Harper Hall’s jurisdiction is, if it was more of a split-but-united deal. It’s the Harper Hall because that’s what it’s been forever, but the Singers are a distinct subset within it with power and import of their own.

Which then brings up the question of wtf happened to the position of Singer? Because Merelan had students, and a very blatant rank of her own for those students to take. And for her to be MasterSinger she can’t have only just started getting students, that would’ve started when she was just Master Singer.

So we’re left with four questions Merelan’s existence and title drop unceremoniously on us-

What is a Singer in the context of the Harper Hall?

What happened to Merelan’s students, of which there can’t only have been the ones we meet?

What happened to the concept of Singers in general, that is never comes up again chronologically?

What the fuck bug crawled up Robinton and Petiron’s asses that despite there being a position in the Hall that explicitly allowed ladies, one that they’ve both been alive to see, one that would likely have been The Norm when Petiron was a student and teacher given Merelan’s position doesn’t seem to be questioned, both of them pull the ‘well you know the Hall hasn’t taken a female student in half of forever if ever, but maybe I can make something work for you’ game?

And we are never going to get a fucking answer so damnit we better start coming up with some for ourselves because nobody else is gonna touch it.

#achi rambles #thinky-thoughts #am i saying we need shit specifically dealing with Singers? yes #yes i am #periton: i can't tell my son that this prodigy I found is a lady because ladies can't be part of the hall #also periton: *was literally married to a lady who was part of the hall*#like whatever you decide singers *are* as far as position #it's clear that he knew there was precedent for a lady *having* a position besides headwoman in the hall #so he could have presented her a potential Singer #but no #fuck you too dude #owed the girl you could've at least given your son her name #it's pern everybody is making up names all the time i doubt anyone would question it anyway #and she supposedly looks boyish so she could've gone undercover and everything #menolly but it's a 'sweet polly oliver' story as she fakes being a boy using paperwork periton filled out for her so she can be a harper #eventually she's found out but all the younger masters' outrage is overruled by the older lot going 'no yeah there's a whole title fr ladies #no idea why periton put her thought all this'#robinton in the background: because my father was a shitstain

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lackingspace · 3 years

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Null Moon (Marko x Reader)

Rating: SFW

Word Count:5.5k

Summary: Due to some mad bogus circumstances your hand was forced into relocating to the Santa Carla witch coven. Not exactly where you saw yourself, but beggars cant be choosers or however that saying goes. New coven, new community, no idea how this was going to play out, what could go wrong?

Warnings: Nothing really. Just 80s slang, some suggestive themes, trigger warning for witchcraft I guess, vampire boys doing stalky vampire things, and expanding the magical community at large. Throw in psychic fliting too. The only real warning here is that I wax soliloquy, stopping me is impossible.

So I watched Lost Boys again and Marko just too pretty and wouldn’t stop, so I had to write about it. I’m dedicated to worldbuilding because it pleases me, so no smut yet, but don’t worry, its comin. Enjoy the 80s slang sprinkled everywhere. Out of no where I know, but I hope you all like it ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Part 2: Blood Moon ✧･ﾟ:

Salt was something you’d found yourself trying to quickly get accustomed to. Don’t get it twisted, you weren’t mental and liked it in your food just fine, but it was in everything here. It was bogus, really. None of your new sisters warned you about the mundane annoyances when relocating to their beachfront town.

It was almost insidious how it could worm its way into just about anywhere and everything. Even on days you were a shut-in, your hair still had a salty ocean breeze scent and you swore you’d find grains of sand in the oddest of places. It wasn’t that big of a deal, just another thing out of your control-- one you’d never be able to change.

The atmosphere answered to no one. Maybe this was the ocean’s way of welcoming you into the fold? Taking it as a sign that the gods were pleased with your departure from the Louisiana coven helped soothe the bitter ache.

You had other things to occupy your thoughts, anyway. Nothing exciting, just the very normal, very stressful situations that came with moving. Having a not so smooth departure made your integration into this coven rocky. Trying to smooth that out while accommodating for the new energy and dynamic of the community made things difficult. Stressful? Definitely. Normal? Unfortunately. Hectic? Totally, but still necessary to process.

Getting to know your new coven sisters was also proving tedious, certain views not quite matching up. At least you were kept too busy to really worry over it. Keeping your mind occupied made everything easier. Even if they didn’t know why you’d really been looking to transfer, it was no secret on their end why they’d been so eager to accept you. They’d had a very specific position that none of the current members were willing to entertain.

A major part of the job was the operation of the coven owned metaphysical shop on the boardwalk, night shift specifically. That had a swirl of mixed emotions bristle your senses- excitement just edging out over apprehension. Your old coven hadn't been open to the human public in any way, shape, or form. The practice was sacred and you were taught to keep it that way.

The only non-paranormal individuals allowed within the walls were partners of the community. A werewolf's mate, for instance, maybe suffering an energetic imbalance would be brought in. So dealing with the stuffy clueless human populace nightly? Well, the idea was less than stellar...but survival required adaptation, and you could be flexible. Still, predicting the havoc it’d play on your nerves was easy. Good thing wine existed because having a glass a day was majorly on the agenda.

Oh well, every job had to have something and each place had slightly different energetic needs, different spiritual practices, and don’t even get you started on the nuances of rituals- everyone and their mom have their own twist. Baton Rouge had been a prime example of that- a hotbed for the magical community, it was embedded in the culture. Overflowing with a little something for everyone and then some. Different ailments, practices, people, and best of all different magics.

On the other hand, all that variety came at the cost of a massive headache in interspecies politics. Witches and vampires, weres and goblins, selkies and sirens, demons and wendigos, elementals and everyone, keeping up with who was at who's throat was exhausting. It gave you a gnarly stomach ache frankly, but if that was the price of learning your craft, well, it wasn't that steep.

Headache, stomach pains, whatever- it was a price you'd gladly pay- had paid. Plus, you had loved the community there. Once you got past the politics there was a wealth of knowledge and power just floating around, free for grabs- even when it wasn’t free, there were ways to get what you’d wanted.

Admitting that your departure had left hella bitter resentment towards your previous sisters was something you actively denied. Your new high priestess hadn’t wanted any hexes sent their way following her acceptance of you. Assuring her it was a mutual departure had been easy, they were extremely desperate and hadn’t really gone through all the hoops to look into it. Besides, it was technically true, there wouldn’t be hexes, just bad blood. There wasn’t really a need to let them know they’d be black listed from the area communals. You’d been to enough of them in the past, they weren’t that special anyway.

Here, alone in the dark with your thoughts, you could sit with the discontent. The choice to leave hadn’t been yours, but you could admit it was for the best. When faced with exile you were willing to sacrifice. Resentment notwithstanding, growth rarely happened if you stayed stagnant for too long. This could actually be a blessing in disguise, even with the perpetual gallons of salt. So here you were; New city, new coven, new people, new rules.

A sigh escaped you at the thought as you put on a nice balancing act for anyone watching. The rules were certainly different here.

Less in some ways, more in others- some very curious agreements. Carefully trying, and trying being the keyword, to descend some questionable-looking stairs while carrying delicate cargo. It being pitch black didn't exactly help either, but at twelve am with no flashlight, the darkness was expected.

Not like you could carry one right now anyway and you’d be caught dead before you put on one of those gaudy forehead lights. A distant bonfire, presumably with partygoers, a few miles off was the only source of light outside of the odd shop still lighting up the boardwalk in the distance.

Neither were a help to you here, but the darkness didn't bother you much, it was more the feeling of the wood against your feet that had you on edge. Foregoing shoes had seemed like the smarter choice knowing you'd be walking in the loose sugary sand, but with the way it mixed against the rough wood to scratch against the arch of your foot? Regret was front and center which only exacerbating your already agitated mind.

Catching your toe on an uneven patch in the wood had you hissing in pain. Someone was def getting cursed if you got a splinter. Actually, you'd be surprised if you made it out without one. These steps were legit grody, they barely even qualified as stairs honestly.

Just some half termite eaten planks, driftwood more likely, definitely nothing professional, all nailed together and stuck into the side of a steep sand dune. Falling on your ass at some point was almost guaranteed- You were always a major klutz in these situations.

Shrugging your shoulder and regripping the box, at least the sand would give you a semi-soft landing whenever it happened.

You should thank whatever beachrat made these stairs though, adjusting your grip on the box again had the jars inside clanking together, water sloshing- good thing you'd tightened the lids before leaving the shop. Thanks to these little stairs you didn’t have to miserably fail at trying your luck in midnight sand surfing. If this was midday you’d have trouble with it still- trying sand surfing now? That'd be so warped. Ugh, just imagine having to make your way back up? Now that'd be a real treat- psych.

When both feet planted safely, and surprisingly splinter-free, in the soft sand you shook yourself into focus. No more letting your thoughts drive you, way too much negativity to unpack and you didn't need that energy seeping into your work here. Moon-water wasn’t usually the most influenceable, but you could, and with your attitude the way it was? You’d totally choke if you didn’t check yourself. No need to mess up your first job, right?

Breathing deeply you set about focusing your mind; grounding, feeling yourself coming back to a controlled center was the first step of your job here tonight. Tightening your grip and breathing in had the scent of the ocean hit you full force. With practiced ease, focusing inward had your eyes naturally drifting shut and calm settle over you. It was incredible how soothing grounding- ritual in general really, could be.

Your next inhale highlighted the subtle undertones of the boardwalk overlaid in the breeze, an amalgamation that fused into a scent uniquely Santa Carla. Letting your energy sink deep within you, then lower down still, dropping into the earth, feeling the vibrations of your surroundings- naturally letting it mix with the energies surrounding you. The ocean was a powerful tool, you'd be a ditz to ignore its embrace. There was an unusual magnetic pull in the air, a buzz that licked against your senses.

The full moon was calling, and like the ocean, you were here to answer.

Centered and ready to work you made your way down to the shore. Funny thing about this new coven, part of the new rules was night rituals were restricted to a single practitioner. That restriction had seemed mental to you, and frankly? You still thought they were a bit out there to bend to such restrictions, but once you learned there was a surprisingly sizable vampire pack in the area it had made more sense. Having just one practitioner was easier for accountability and all that, but like, it was still twisted.

Vampires were picky. They claimed a territory and stuck to it. Any other lucky supernatural creature was subject to their "authority". Barf me out with that attitude. If they weren't solitary, it was usually a duo, anything more than a trio was especially rare. Vampires could be mega volatile in general, but especially towards one another. The fact that there were at least four confirmed vamps in the area? Now, that piqued your interest. Their bonds had to be radically tight to stay together with any type of calm.

Unfortunately, vampires and witches? Typically not such a hot mix.

Vampires and magic didn't always mesh well and historically that meant witches and vampires couldn't play nice together. Funnily enough, this coven didn't go against status quo- every sister you'd met so far vehemently detested vamps. Too bad they were smackdab in the middle of fang city.

The location being legit brill had something to do with how docile the coven acted. It said something when witches were willing to take shit and obey in order to practice. Energetically potent, magically powerful, Santa Carla was a delightful nexus. Not to mention scenic too.

The coven was desperate for someone to be the designated night ritualist, working the stores night shift was just a caveat. The timing had worked out because you were just as desperate. You thought the whole vampire witch feud thing was lame, but it’d saved you from ex-communication, so you'd keep that tidbit to yourself.

Vampires didn't bother you really. Well, they could, but not because the vampy bit, just the entitled attitude. Anyone could be a barf bag regardless of what they were. You'd met just as many ditzy witches as narbo vamps. You were more concerned that you'd most definitely have human tourists bombarding you every night.

What got you though was the craziest part of the deal. When within a 15 mile radius of the boardwalk there was a restriction to strictly restorative work. Even being a nexus, you weren’t sure this place was worth neutering yourself energetically for. Sure, vampire's had their reasons, severe sensitivity to magic yada-yada, not to mention if their bond was as tight as you assumed, they probably felt active magic like nails on a chalkboard, but damn.

You couldn’t believe the high priestess would agree to it. It really seemed the witches got the short end of the stick here. You weren’t seeing a lot of benefits for yourself. So far your opinion on the coven was….well, at this point you were half-convinced you’d joined a gaggle of ditzes.

Having taken stock of the ingredients they had on hand a quick glance had made replenishing the monthly moon water a top priority. It was such a simple thing, very useful, super versatile, and no one in the coven had been willing to make a large batch of it. Ugh, imagine letting prejudice get in the way of making such a staple ingredient. There wasn't anything fancy that went into it. A cool head, even temper, patience, and a little prep was all that it needed.

That’s what you were here for now, though. They could keep their dislike and eat their cake too. Still, you weren’t completely obstinate and took their warning to heart, it wasn't just the vampires that made the area witches refuse the night shift.

Santa Carla wasn’t exactly Disneyland. Murder was a thing and it happened here daily. Nexus’s tended to have a magnetic draw. Pulling in powerful things, good things, weak things, bad things- the sheer unpredictability wasn’t a friend in this case.

A random human could decide tonight was beach shanking night and you’d be the lucky victim. You’d like to see them try at least. Maybe one of the vampire pack would break the agreement if they were feeling a bit nippy? Doubtful if they didn’t want a war on their hands, but possible. A stray wendigo attracted to your energy feeling a midnight snack seemed more likely. Could even be a banshee needing a quick meal. Never can tell how things were going to work out.

Knowing yourself though, you’d probably just trip up those hella grimy stairs and break your neck.

You weren’t too worried about being attacked though, honestly. You had wards in place and if it got past that, well, you'd deal with whatever it was then. No use worrying about it now. You were more than happy to take on the privilege to essentially moon bathe on the beach while funneling the energy to the water. It was good on all levels.

Walking to the area you’d scouted during the day set your mind back into focus. Setting the box down, the jars jostling while you grabbed the blanket hanging off the side of the box. Spreading it out and setting up your area had everything falling in place. The jars spread just along the outside of your circular blanket, with that done you sat yourself down in the center.

Determined to do this right you brought back that focused rooted energy. Using this as an opportunity to release some built-up tension would be a good idea too. Let the ocean wash away your bitterness with the tide and allow the moon to shift you into clarity for whatever was to come. Even if you did think your new sisters were idiots, they were to be your idiots and you had to embrace it.

As you laid there working the energy and letting it shift, you noticed a curious sensation at the edge of your perception.

A slight tickling at the fringe of your awareness; soft, so extremely soft and subtle that if you’d just gone about your business and hadn’t been so introspective focused you’d totally have passed it over.

Watched.

The subtle sensation wasn’t threatening as of yet, but you were definitely being watched. By what? You weren’t sure. Getting a firm reading on it was difficult. The more you focused on the energy the further it pulled back. Pursuing it only had whoever it was slyly staying just out of your grasp.

Definitely not human. Wouldn’t be a witch or a medium either, they’d just answer your psychic questioning. Could be a were, you’d heard they’d been in the area recently. The next brush sent a shiver down your spine and had you crossing weres off. It was definitely too silky to be one, they always felt gruffer to you, wilder. Possibly a demon, they had that shade of sensuality and always liked to follow you around in new territory. A quick flash of tightly-wound sharp control coated in a mischievous air finally spit out the answer; Vampire.

Satisfied, you dropped the pursuit and turned your attention back to the sea. Subtle brushes returning, but this time not trying to hide itself or their interest. So one of the new overlords had decided to drop in on their new subject? That was just fine as long as they stayed watching and didn’t interfere.

You’d give it to whichever vamp this was. They had wicked nice energy. Like, once you got a read on that was. Playful, cheeky almost to a fae’s degree, brimming with an elusive danger, while still having a quiet peace underneath. That quiet calm resonated inside your own field and was exactly what you needed to settle back into your space. You didn’t hate the idea of their company so much.

You’d expected a run-in at some point, but right away? They were some go-getters to the max.

Nothing came of it though, the watcher had just been that. A watcher. When three am came, went, and passed, you’d decided to pack things up. You felt their vigilant gaze the entire time. Even after you got in your car and motored on home, it was still with you. It was only after you entered your home did their light press on your awareness leave.

The rest of your week played out much the same. Feeling that attentive gaze in every outside ritual from start to well after the finish. Even while you were working the shop they’d pop in and out of your awareness only to settle when you were locking up for the night.

You’d tried to catch a glimpse of who your designated monitor was, but it proved an impossible task. Stealth was a vampire’s friend and this one was incredibly apt. They stayed just far enough away during ritual and on the boardwalk you were too busy entertaining space cadet humans or dealing with an actual client to seek them out.

On that note, there was a surprising number of shapeshifters in the area, changelings especially had been a nice treat. They weren’t exactly common in Louisiana and working with them was always interesting. They required a delicate eye and full attention when diagnosing their condition.

A shapeshifter’s physicality was entirely based on energy manipulation, so one wrong push or pull and you could injure them more than help. Pinpointing where your attentive observer was out in the crowd became annoyingly out of the question.

They’d turn up eventually. Until then, however, you’d just have to sit tight. Lucky for you changelings had a penchant for gossiping. They’d been kind enough to give you a rundown on the pack and their opinion of them. Changelings weren’t known to have easily won loyalty, so the popular opinion on them being pretty rad, was surprising.

They were apparently chill on the authority, which was shocking enough, but they said the pack leader, David, could be hella genial. Vampires weren’t usually described that way. Not outside of the anyone they were glamouring anyway. Maybe the coven weren’t such spazes to reside here.

Friday saw your week coming to a close. You’d woken up ready to put your first week behind you and spend the weekend really exploring the area. There was a nice hiking trail not too far away that you’d really wanted to spend some time at. A few brownies had spirited into the shop and mentioned it as a great area for herbs and ritual during conversation.

Brewing a second cup of tea, calming herbs this time- regular humans really did get on your nerves with their incessant brainless questions and barf bag attitude. There were a few mediums that'd dropped in who you didn't mind, actually really liked, but the rest of the human race made you want to gag. Lumping witches and poor mediums into the same category didn’t seem fair.

The night was steadily cruising along. The humans came in bursts, sporadic, but manageable. Client-wise, nothing too dramatic either, the most interesting case was a few sprites suffering a nasty goblin hex. It was an easy enough fix, orders on how to use the herbs, and a cautionary chastising to leave the gobbies alone unless invited. They giggled their departure as you shook your head, sprites never learned.

The night's energy had you listless. Only a few hours left before you could close down shop and you were antsy. No pressing ceremonies to perform tonight for the coven either, so heading straight home to open that bottle of wine you'd acquired before your arrival was on the top of the to-do list.

Curiously, your nightly specter hadn't visited once. It was surprising how fast you'd gotten used to a vampire’s energy body. If you were honest with yourself, you'd even come to look forward to having it- him, the changelings had listed only male vampires, being a steady sensation on the outer edges of your senses.

The absence of the strange new routine left you with an unsettled itch. Something was off, you could tell, your antsiness screamed of something about to happen, you just weren't sure what.

The answer came not too long after that. With a lull of what you assumed to be the last customers of the night, you’d busied yourself restocking and starting to close down. High on the shelf ladder reorganizing the herb wall. It got so messy with the daily run-through of customers’ grubby hands all over it. Turning a jar forward as the bell above the door sounded.

"Welcome! I'll be-" the energy that zapped your senses had you cut off the greeting with a sharp inhale. Thank the gods you hadn't been holding one of the glass jars, it'd be smithereens otherwise.

The shift had hit you instantly, an electric buzz that lapped against your mental self. Giving you a clear idea of what just walked in. Four of them. They'd all come. Shifting through the sensation, trying to grasp each of their unique patterns had you stopping short when you felt your chaperone's energy reach out to you.

It wasn't just a soft prodding like usual, instead, it was like a full-body caress. More like a lick if you were honest.

Skin tingling, electric sparks sent down your spine settling somewhere you'd rather not question right now, and if your nipples had tightened from it? Well, that was nobody's business. Beneath the shameless lick was an urge of reassurance.

The unspoken highly nuanced language assuring you of safety. Thank the goddess you were fluent. It was odd, really, a vampire reassuring a witch of their safety? You weren't prey, not if they wanted the coven to stay placid. Even if they’d decided to attack you weren’t helpless. The kiddie gloves would come off quicker than lightning and then they’d see what was up.

They’d definitely break you, but you’d do some damage. So there wasn't any rhyme or reason to make you feel safe or calmed. Nothing you could think of except for your own peace of mind. It had a giggle bubbling up, but you clamped down before it could escape.

You appreciate the sentiment regardless and dragged your energy against his in return, showing your mirth, and if he was apt enough to recognize the instant anxiety their entrance caused, he'd feel the praise underneath.

Taking a deep inhale before steeling yourself. You'd anticipated that it was only a matter of time before a meeting. The high priestess had said it’d come at some point when they felt ready, so you were decidedly not going to freak out and treat them like any other customer. Even if one of them had already made your nipples pebble.

You were also so ready to end the mystery of what your babysitter looked like. Putting a face to, well not a name, but an energetic signature rather. Stepping down from the ladder you made your way towards the front counter.

They were milling about between aisle shelving so getting a clear look wasn’t working. You could see bits of hair, flashes of leather, and hear their banter- typical dudes messing with each other. You were right, hearing how affable they were with each other solidified that they def have a legit bond.

Waiting another minute behind that counter still hadn’t made them come to you. Sighing before you decided to speak up, "What can I help you with tonight?" That had the laughter in the back trickle off before a rumbling voice spoke out, "Many things, maybe nothing. Depends on what you're offering." He hadn’t needed to emerge from the aisle for you to feel the leer paired with that statement. Ah, so David was the edgy type. You could work with that.

What you might stumble over though, was just how pretty they all were.

Don't get it wrong, Vampires were supposed to be attractive, it was part of their thing. A magnetic and alluring shift happened to them all when they were turned, but this? This was on another level.

The vague memory of lessons from your old covens compendium on vampiric lore came to mind. It’d stated the first vampire came into existence born by way of an incubus mingling in a maenads rites with a medium. Their resulting child the first vampire.

Who knew how accurate those stories were, the compendium was specific to each coven; an enduring collection of their line of knowledge, but authenticity was always questionable.

Looking at them all as they emerged- really made you believe there was some weighted truth to the legend. Incubus certainly seemed like it was mingled up in them. You’d been gifted by a few incubi once upon a time and the similarities between them and these boys? Striking. Between their movements, their magnetic presences, and the brazen way they gazed at you.

The vampires in Louisiana were all charming, but it was all a subtle compulsion. It didn’t help that they typically had a bad attitude mixed with antiquated style. They just never appealed to you.

This pack, however, seems like they’d had no problem keeping up with pop culture. Embracing it wholeheartedly, one of them looked like he moonlighted in poison for crying out loud. Maybe they were young, but you got a vibe that hinted otherwise. More like they were adaptable.

Trying to keep a straight face, professionalism and all that, was difficult, but doable. At least you thought it was, but once you locked eyes with a pair of soulful hazel- there was no doubt that they all felt the psychic warble you let slip accidentally.

He’d been the elusive watcher this week. There wasn’t a question about it, a perfect face to match his auric self. The breath you’d been holding choked out when he broke into an impish grin followed by what was essentially another playful full-body kiss.

You swore you could hear a purr resound in your mind. The three subordinates chuckled when you drew in a sharp intake.

“Marko.” David's tenor was soft, but firm. Marko? Cute. Without breaking eye contact, his smile widened mischievously while he raised both hands in surrender. The undivided attention was unsettling in all the right ways.

Sparking a heat that undulated throughout you. Tabling that information to the back of your mind, you broke the gaze. Needed to if you were going to have any kind of brain function for conversation.

Turning to the de facto leader you sized him up. Or tried to. Definitely threatening, actively making it hard to read him. On the surface he felt like a cold blade; sharp, decisive, piercing.

Good qualities for a leader you supposed, but like, damn, that didn’t sate your curiosity. If he wasn’t going to work with you then that only left the boring way, “David, I presume?”

He raised a brow with a pleased look, “Good. The little crone knows who matters around here.” Bo-guuus, edgy with an attitude. Those changelings either lied or were talking about someone different because genial? You weren’t seeing it. Aiming an unimpressed look paired with a, “Mmhmm” brought a chuckle of his own.

Waiting for him to speak again seemed like the best option, you weren’t very good at small talk, and Marko was still so very distracting. After David’s chiding, he really hadn’t let up much. He might not be doing that lick thing with the delightful heat, but what he was doing wasn’t far off.

Going out of his way to make sure a large portion of your attention was still focused on him by continually baiting you; almost like energetic petting. If you weren’t trying to have a serious conversation you’d bask in the new attention. You weren’t a cat, but you imagined this is what they must have felt like. Psychic flirting was always fun, but his attention had it quickly becoming your favorite.

With him doing it in front of his pack though? Any sensible person, witch especially should be uncomfortable. Totally pissed if not outraged- it was definitely a claim, unnervingly possessive, and you shouldn’t like the blatant territorial display, but for some reason, it stroked something deep in your harebrain that majorly worked for you.

Before you could drop down that rabbit hole further David brought you back, “You’ve been a busy little witch this past week.” Annoyance fluttered in, what’d he expect? There hadn’t been a night ritualist for over a year. There was a lot of work to do, some things just couldn’t be done during the day.

You shrugged “Ha, massive understatement. New coven, new clients, way too many neglected things to catch up on. Seems like you should thank me for taking over.”

The look he gave you was piercing and indiscernible. You weren’t really sure where you stood with him. You hadn’t done anything to step out of the bounds they’d placed on you, but somehow with the look he was leveling at you begged the question, had you?

Mentally retracing your week yielded nothing. Hadn’t even tried to hex anyone, even that human who’d cut you off on your drive in Wednesday night, now that’d been difficult. Was this why you’d had such heavy surveillance? Not that you’d minded, but here you thought it was just your shining personality.

“Keep it up. The community needs a witch with some spine.” Maybe you’d spoke too soon, he might not be so bad.

“I wasn’t so sure about you. Word on the street and all.” That had you freeze. Not even Marko’s continued attention phased you. There was no way he knew anything. That was impossible. Your new coven didn’t know, your old coven wouldn't dare let anything slip- it wouldn’t just be you who lost face.

There was no way anyone knew anything about you or why you’d moved. It had to be a bluff, a well aimed taunt. It was common knowledge that witches rarely transferred covens, it happened for a multitude of reasons- good, bad, ugly. He was just being a dickhead, a nosy dickhead.

Forcing a calm mask even though you were sure they could all hear your rapid heartbeat, trying not to play into his bait, “Oh? Word on the street? I have a rep already? Bitchin’.”

Anxiety was a mega issue for you, so not having a cow and playing it as chill as you did? A total moment for you. clammy hands, rapid heartbeat, clenched jaw and all. That pulled a laugh out of Marko and the hair band look-alike while David and the clydesdale in the back wore smirks.

“Word is the new witch isn’t from the clique. Never can tell what you little hags are planning, bringing in new blood?” He leaned forward across the counter catching you with his piercing blues, “That has trouble written all over it.”

You were slow to process what he’d actually said, too caught up in how the light glinted off his pretty eyes. There was no denying it, so you didn’t try, “For sure,” but on second thought you didn’t want to make it sound like you were here to start shit, “but change isn’t always bad.”

He tapped the glass of the counter before he pushed off, “We’ll see about that, little hag”. That must have been the signal to leave because he’d started walking towards the door with the silent type in his shadow.

Marko hadn’t moved, hadn’t dropped his attention and you were nervous to return it. Too likely to get caught up in something now that they were all leaving. You liked it, but it was still like mega nerve-racking.

Before you could work up the confidence to engage with whatever that was, the taller blonde slapped his shoulder, “I like this chick! She’s got some spunk!”

He made to push away from the vampire still comfortably leaning against the counter, but something had caught your eye. Without thinking, your hand shot out like a viper to grip his wrist before he could walk any further away, “Wait up!” Marko’s purr, or whatever that buzz he was coating you in suddenly sputtered out.

With everyone’s attention returning, you dropped the skin contact and made your way around the counter. Standing in front of him while quickly giving him a psychic once over. His tallness made it very inconvenient to look for the physical indicator of what you suspected. With a yank to his shoulder you spoke before you really thought how it’d be taken, “Bend down and show me your teeth.”

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omg-kat · 6 years

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♥A lot has happened since I hit 300 followers and posted the first draft of chapter one of my WIP, Stars and Mirrors project. I had a lot excellent feedback and I love you all so so much... SO since I’m now at nearly 500 followers, I figured I’d do another thing and post part one of Chapter Two (VERY RAW!!) Please don’t ask how many parts there will be because I have no idea lol

For more information about my main WIP, themes, characters, and worldbuilding, click HERE!

Now to tag people! @kittensartsbooks, @aeryn-writes @forlornraven @alongftride @starlightswitch@silverlakeforest @el-norawrites @incandescent-creativity @bonewrites@icechimaera @woahwhatislife @feathered-quill @allthelovelyghosts@morriganwrites-0124 @adorhauer @lady-redshield-writes @cog-writes@willowandsnow @homesteadhorner @firewritten @stirredhearts @adorhauer@toboldlywrite @eternalwritingstudent @greenhousewriting @woahwhatislife @alizans @novelistcore @mazstories @theclichestories @whoufflezlegz @bymeganwithmeraki @goforwardgreenwriter @marydreamy @lumina-rhiver

⚡️Stars and Mirrors - Raw first draft - Chapter Two - part one - The Many Faces of Tsid 🌙

Every question that rolled through her mind threatened to send Mica over the edge. She silently followed Tsid through the nondescript hallways, trying to focus on anything else. Unfortunately, the blinding white walls, glossy white flooring, and fluorescent lights behind white frosted screens, offered little to no distraction.

Where am I? Who are these people? What are they doing with my body? My body? How am I here if my body is there?

She looked down at her hands and stopped dead in her tracks. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, leaving her gasping and lightheaded.

These are not my hands. These are not my hands!

She trembled violently. Her eyes burned with tears.

“Come child, everything will be alright,” Tsid’s thin fingers gently covered Mica’s, and she gave them a reassuring squeeze. Sobbing silently, Mica ambled through the plain white corridors. There were doors now, but they were all white too, with no way to tell them apart. She tried to keep track of their route, but the pure white had a disorienting effect. She felt herself getting lost, in more ways than one.

Tsid finally stopped at a plain door, completely indistinguishable from the others that they’d passed through the empty hallways. The interior offered a similar austere decor, with one bed, a small table, two chairs, and a doorway that led to a very small bathroom.

At least they changed up the color. Shit, I hate yellow but I’ll take anything over white at this point.

Tsid invited Mica inside, motioning for her to take a seat on the bed, and closed the door behind them.

“I’m sure you have many questions.” Tsid took a seat, sighing. Mica could only nod, fearing her own unfamiliar voice. “I promise you that we will answer every question you have. For now, though, you need to get some rest. Pulling your soul from an entirely different world must have been exhausting.”

The question bubbled out of Mica before she could stop herself, “Excuse me, my what? My-- my soul? A different world?” The words felt foreign in her mouth, and Tsid’s statement left her feeling even more distraught.

Why does it feel like I have to translate everything she’s saying?

“Tomorrow, my child. I promise.” Tsid smiled and leaned in, bringing the smell of mint and pipe tobacco. The smell should have been comforting for Mica, but it repulsed her for some reason. She pulled the sheets back, and Mica reluctantly slid underneath. Standing, Tsid stared down at Mica one last time before turning away.

“Sleep now, and Tsid will wake you with breakfast and some answers. The door will be locked tonight, for your own safety.”

Mica bolted out of bed as soon as the door shut, pressing her ear against it, and listened to the sound of Tsid’s fading footsteps. She waited for several moments after and then tried the knob. Locked. She stood, looking around. The sparse furniture, lack of windows, and featureless decor left her without hope to escape. Her head buzzed and throbbed, and she suddenly felt exhausted.

Wait, I haven’t seen a single window since I got here. Am I underground?

She suddenly remembered the strange sound the door made when it shut, sighing as if it sealed completely.

What is this place?

She lowered herself back down into the bed, and studied the strange holes on the yellow cream colored ceiling. Sleep felt so far away but her body had no energy to offer. I want to go home, she thought desperately. Tears rolled down her temples and the bed shook with her sobbing. Sleep eventually came, but her dreams would leave her feeling unrested come morning.

The door stands open slightly. Mica approaches and pushes it open. A mountain meadow lies before her. The door disappears behind her, but she barely notices. She inhales, smelling the wildflowers, listening to the twittering birds and chirping insects.

She notices a different door nearby. It looks like a cellar door, old and full of character with deep, red-brown wood and moss covered stone. A single white rose grows near the door. She leans down to smell it, caressing the velvety soft petals under her thumb.Clouds move and the sun drenches warmth upon her face. She closes her eyes, savoring the feeling.

The peaceful moment ends too soon, though. Cold dread grips her heart as her thoughts drift to Tsid and the memory of her dead body being carried away. She can feel that familiar pressure behind her eyes, a threat of tears and a lump in her throat. It seems so cruel to see such beauty right now.

“Wake now, my child, you are safe.” Her eyes fluttered open, gasping for air. She could smell the woman already. Mica wanted to trust the smile that Tsid directed towards her, but that minty tobacco scent warned her like a vague old memory, too ancient and out of reach to actually remember clearly.

Tsid held out a glass of water, reaching up to touch Mica’s forehead with cold hands. “You were dreaming when I came in, do you remember?” Mica shook her head, reluctant to share the dream. “Oh. You were sobbing, are you alright now?” Mica silently nodded, accepting the glass and taking a sip.

Sighing, Tsid moved to take her place at the small table. Mica followed, stomach growling at the sight of food. For one terrible second she was afraid she’d find the food as unfamiliar as everything else she’d seen in the last twelve hours. Fortunately, the plate was filled with steaming sausages and potatoes, or something so similar it may as well be bangers and mash.

Feeling oddly comforted after shoveling a good portion of her food down her throat, Mica leaned back and studied Tsid once more.

“I’m ready to ask my questions,” she said, taking a smaller bite this time.

Tsid smiled, “Ask away.”

Mica was quiet for a moment as she tried to organize her questions. This failed so she picked one that was gnawing at her the most. “These,” she said, waving her hands in front of her, “are not my hands.” Her mouth was still full, but she didn’t care about being polite at the moment.

“That’s not exactly a question, my child,” Tsid said, her smile never faltering.

“Yeah but it’s a statement that begs clarification, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Alright, you are correct. Those are not your hands.”

“Whose hands do they belong to?”

“They belonged to Cyra, but they belong to you now.”

Cyra, that name… It was another memory, an idea, something vague but comforting. A dream that Mica couldn’t remember. “Who is Cyra?” she asked.

Tsid’s smile remained as she rose to pace the room, “Cyra was supposed to be our friend. She betrayed us,” she said, “and she chose to leave, rather than to help us.” She stopped and turned away, “We had no choice, don’t you see? You now possess a body with such enormous potential. We need you.” She turned around again, facing Mica. Her eyes were wide and wild.

My body? “My body? Where is my body?” Mica asked, trying to take control of the conversation once again. Derailed, Tsid withdrew slightly.

“Your body didn’t make it, unfortunately. We’d hoped to keep it around for you, but the trip between worlds had quite a negative effect. Actually, you’re lucky Cyra’s body was here, otherwise you would have died along with your own body.”

It was all too much to take in, but Mica managed to move on to another impossible question, “So, I’m not even on earth anymore?”

“Earth? That’s what you called your world? Not very creative, is it?” She sat down, across from Mica once again. “No, my dear. This is Amaran. More specifically, we’re near the mountains of Kavria at the moment.” Tsid said, studying Mica’s face.

Kavria. Another familiar yet foreign word, offering sense memories, like the ones Mica felt when someone mentioned her own home, Sweetwater, Wyoming. Or even her second home in Chicago. She’d do anything to see the mountains in Wyoming one more time. It was all so much to take in. She sat there, quietly thinking for probably too long. Tsid was patient, though, watching Mica in her introspection.

Mica’s unfamiliar voice sounded raw as a terrible thought hit her, “I can’t go home anymore, can I? I mean, even if you could send me home… Shit. I don’t even have my own body to go back in.”

Tsid did not respond. The truth, the answer, was in the question itself. “Finish your food and rest more. You’ll have plenty of time to ask more questions later, and I’ll need much from you in return.”

The door closed before Mica could respond. She sat in silence, reeling from the information she’d just learned.

I can’t go home. Ever. My body is dead.

She looked down at her hands once again.

These hands. They’re not mine. This body will never be mine and I’ll never have my body back.

She didn’t even have a chance to fight the terror that overcame her. She buried her face in her pillow, sobbing loudly. It wasn’t fair. At least she got to say goodbye to her roommate, Amber, but she left so many things unsaid. And her parents...

Oh god, my parents. They’re going to look for me. Forever. They’re going to grow old looking for me.

♥ OK that’s it, party people. Sorry, that was a long one... and I haven’t done much proofreading on this yet, so mistakes are definitely expected XD ♥

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #amwriting #fantasy writing #fantasy fiction #moodboard #oc moodboard #original content #my writing #stars and mirrors project #chapter two part one #mica #tsid

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