rowanmaclain
rowan maclain
Rowan MacLain | 31 | Bard of the Circle of Nightfall
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“Aw, geez.”
The ground squished beneath her feet, cold and damp. The moment Rowan woke up, she knew something was wrong. The ritual had built up around the gathering of witches and warlocks in such a way that it was unbelievable to think they’d been killing each other for the past five years. It was almost--hopeful. But the feeling was replaced with a sense of emptiness, a different kind of company. Because Rowan realized she was at the cemetery.
She shivered and fumbled with the zipper of her leather jacket to finally zip it up, stuffing her grey scarf under the layers to guard from the cold. The temperature continued to drop. Regaining her sense of direction, she started walking, figuring she needed to make good time back to the village to make herself useful.
The first person she saw was a witch she knew had been at the circle. So maybe she wasn’t the only one that had been flung out of the ritual? “Hey, uh, Minerva, is it?” Rowe asked her. She chuckled weakly. “Weren’t we just at the square, or am I having a weird dream?”
@minilocke
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samuel.
His hands nimly undid his jacket, a smile on his lips as he draped it over her shoulders and made sure it would stay there. He had been standing by a blazing fire for hours waiting out the poltergeist, so warmth wasn’t something he lacked right now. Samuel glanced over his shoulder, but his partner had joined the circle on the other side so he took Regan O'Connors hand.
He felt a heavy gaze on him, his eyes flickering up to meet that of one of the council members. Almost accusingly. As if Samuel wouldn’t have joined the circle. His lips pressed together, his eyes continued on in the circle, lingering on his ex fiancée before he heard the flap of wings nearby. Lucy swooped down from the air, landing on the leather cuff on his wrist just as another hand reached for his empty one.
“Ah, Lucy!” Samuel scolded the falcon, an apologetic look thrown at Rowan. Lucy’s wings flapped harshly and then she tucked them in, hopping along his arm and settling away from his wrist so the witch could take his hand. “I’m so sorry, ma'am, it’s been a tense night. She isn’t usually this protective.” Samuel apologised again to Rowan and offered her his hand, this time free from the threat of being blinded by a feathery wing.
@rowanmaclain
The stupid truck didn’t want to start, at first. Maybe this place was cursed. It was running just fine before! she’d complained to her cousin. Finally, they got it going. There was no way they’d make it in time to join the others at the town from the north outpost without the truck, so Rowan was thankful they didn’t have to miss anything. Maybe she shouldn’t have been as excited as she was for something to happen.
Zadie was gone in a flash and with the crowds of people, Rowan found herself stuck just trying to find her place in the circle. She was short enough that she couldn’t see over most people, so she scrambled to find a free hand. When she did, she barely had a moment to notice the flap of wings as a falcon landed on the warlock’s arm. Rowan jerked her hands away in surprise and looked up at Samuel with a breathless grin. “It’s fine. My Penelope--” Eats birds that size? “She’s like that, too, just--bigger.” Rowan couldn’t waste any more time being flustered, finally taking Samuel’s hand.
“Oh--Tempest! Over here!” Rowan jumped and waved at the witch with her free hand.
@tempest-wood
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severin.
Location: Circle of Nightfall coven house
January 2, 2018
@rowanmaclain
The main hall where the coven congregated was relaxed. A homey space lacking formality and encouraging all members to contribute. Politely pushing Ro to take the job of creating a mural inside wasn’t all about simple participation. She could make a little cash and have her art displayed permanently. “Mocha Latte, double shot.” He called out, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the mostly empty hall. His gaze fell upon the wide and high wall and Severin stopped, lips parting but no words coming out immediately. A confused brow, hand holding the coffee lowering along with his voice. “Oh, uhm. Hmm.”
Hot. It was so goddamn stuffy in here. Rowan started off the painting session blasting rock music from the record player and singing along. This part was easy enough, just painting the background colors. Big sweeps with the brush and constant mixing to get the right colors, climbing up and down from the step ladder to reach higher and higher on the wall got Rowan moving around the room hunting down paint colors and switching brushes.
Eventually the flurry of activity and running around got Rowan working up a sweat and she tossed off her jacket. Then eventually came her shirt. She was wearing a sports bra, and anyway, the Reverend closed the coven house for the evening to give her time to work, so she wouldn’t have to worry about looking decent.
She didn’t notice Severin right away, not over her singing and the fact that her back was turned to the room. She turned to step down from the ladder and nearly tripped over herself. “Shiiiit--”
Rowan very ungracefully half stumbled, half climbed off the ladder and landed on the floor after a couple of steps. She looked at Sev with a lift of her hands. “I bet that looked rad. Is that coffee for me?”
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end.
rowanmaclain:
Rowan swiped the cards across the surface of the table and gathered them up, not willing to put them away in favor of idly shuffling. A load of crap. Rowe had trusted the cards to answer so many questions over the course of her lifetime. She liked to think of herself as decent at the craft of divination. But maybe the answers she gave were gilded, explained away by her need for positivity, and when she was faced with answers that conflicted with what she wanted, she ignored the bad and focused on the good.
Dark eyes lifted to focus on her cousin as she spoke. It was the loudest she’d been in weeks. And she wasn’t even loud. A small frown turned on Rowe’s face, unwilling to believe that the valley was cursed. She just couldn’t live like that.
“I’m not.” Rowan kept shuffling the deck of cards. “I’m not moving past it, I’m just living with it. Because there’s no other choice.” She lost friends. Her family would never be the same. Some days the thoughts made her freeze up, made it hard to get out of bed. But Rowe couldn’t stay still for long. Even if all she could do was pace in her room and want to scream.
“We’ve got to. Or what was it all for?”
Zadie shrugged off her words. They weren’t helpful to her, as much as she wanted them to be. There was no moving past the war, no finding peace among their differences. She’d sacrificed and sacrificed and sacrificed — there was nothing left.
Standing, she went over to the window and looked out. The curtains were old, and filled with dust, but orange gingham underneath. She parted them with the tips of her fingers, light green eyes scanning the landscape. A fog had rolled down from the mountains, leaving her view obstructed by puffs of white.
“Storm’s coming.”
The wind picked up, almost on cue, howling against the rough-hewn rock of the fireplace. Zadie looked at Rowan.
“Truck won’t run in the cold.”
There was more to it, more she could’ve said. That she had a bad feeling, or that the outpost reminded her of things she’d rather forget. But she didn’t, instead crossing the room to her bag and fishing out a packet of crackers.
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🎉 to kiss my muse at midnight on New Year’s Eve
The clock struck midnight. For being the first New Year on the other side of the war, the celebrations were muted at best. A few people kissed and at the very least, there were smiles. Rowan turned to the taller man next to her and furrowed her brow when he looked down at her. She kissed her fingers and pressed her hand into his chest with a little shove before walking away.
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🎉(boop.)
Rowan looked up at the sharp crescent moon in the night sky and folded her arms loosely over her chest. It was cold--but not too cold, more wet than anything. She found Zadie outside of the party and didn’t ask why she left or why she lingered, instead standing silently nearby. She looked down at her watch and squinted. Close enough. Leaning over, she rose onto her toes and kissed Zadie on the cheek. “Happy New Year, Zade.”
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declan.
Declan shook his head. “I don’t know how you manage it, whenever I try, I just end up looking like a stripper sneezed on me.” Glitter was the bane of his existence. He still remembered his brother gifting him with a box full of it one Christmas. That was the sort of thing you didn’t forget. It had gone everywhere. He’d sparkled for months after.
She was probably right. They probably would shut down the school. He just wasn’t sure which side of the snow he wanted to be on. If he was back on the farm, he could keep an eye on things and make sure everything was running smoothly. If he stayed in town, he could get a jump on his studies. He trusted Spencer and Jeremiah to keep the place running … well, not really, but there wasn’t much they could do to the place in winter, except burn it down. “I don’t know, boring sounds refreshing. I haven’t been bored in a long time. I bet it’s nice.”
“Being bored is overrated. Who needs a full night’s sleep and free time? Not me.” Rowan glanced around at the quiet street. An old warlock was writing an advertisement on a chalkboard sign. None of the shops were open and she could almost envision a tumbleweed rolling down the street.
“All right, if it’s bored you want, then you should stay at the Academy. You could go to the library and grab a study room. Make the poor Meece’s delivery person bring you sandwiches mid-storm.” She folded her arms and arched a brow at him almost as a challenge to do just that. “Me, I’m gonna ride out the storm working on a project for Reverend Burroughs. It’ll get me out of doing chores and keep me busy. As long as there’s no power outages, might be kinda hard to paint in the dark,” she said, the latter bit mostly to herself.
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zadie.
A storm brewed deep in her chest, nearly as ominous as the one that caused heavy, dark clouds to settle over the mountaintops. But unlike the storm outside, this one never brooked her appearance. Zadie stared, never touching the cards, not looking at Rowan. She stared, and then she blinked.
“Think it’s a load of crap,” Zadie returned with arched brows. She didn’t like the answer. She wouldn’t like any answer that wasn’t Ollie himself, arriving at the door and apologizing for being so late to things.
She leaned back, drawing her knees to the chest, nodding for Rowe to take the cards away.
“This place is full of bad,” she muttered. “No wonder a poltergeist showed up. Nothing’s the same. Nothing’s ever going to be the same. Nothing–”
It was more than she’d said in years, really. More than she’d said since her escape, and she hadn’t exactly been talkative in captivity.
“You’re moving past it.” Light green eyes locked on her cousin. “How?”
Rowan swiped the cards across the surface of the table and gathered them up, not willing to put them away in favor of idly shuffling. A load of crap. Rowe had trusted the cards to answer so many questions over the course of her lifetime. She liked to think of herself as decent at the craft of divination. But maybe the answers she gave were gilded, explained away by her need for positivity, and when she was faced with answers that conflicted with what she wanted, she ignored the bad and focused on the good.
Dark eyes lifted to focus on her cousin as she spoke. It was the loudest she’d been in weeks. And she wasn’t even loud. A small frown turned on Rowe’s face, unwilling to believe that the valley was cursed. She just couldn’t live like that.
“I’m not.” Rowan kept shuffling the deck of cards. “I’m not moving past it, I’m just living with it. Because there’s no other choice.” She lost friends. Her family would never be the same. Some days the thoughts made her freeze up, made it hard to get out of bed. But Rowe couldn’t stay still for long. Even if all she could do was pace in her room and want to scream.
“We’ve got to. Or what was it all for?”
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severin.
“More than that even.” Said with a feigned weariness which didn’t exist for Rowan. With the distance of time Ro’s hard pushing and drive was now remembered vibrant and not as harsh as he’d felt it to be originally. A need to get things done and not waste a second, that was the way in which she moved through the world. Severin wished he could’ve heard her back then over the din of his own selfish desires. He’d realized it late, too late, especially after his brother’s death. Which made him squirm at the thought he had been given a chance to correct it, squirm over the idea of fucking it up somehow.
And so it was his turn to motivate and give her a friendly shove off a cliff. Sev recalled the mural on the old Thomas barn, painted in the light of summer and even lighter laughter. Actual fun, something in short supply nowadays. He shook his head. “No, it’s a real offer. The Reverend would like you to take a look at the space and submit an idea. And then provide him with an estimate for supplies and labor. As well as how long you might need. Then you’ll have full access to the space. I’d be happy to build you scaffolding too to reach the ceiling if needed.”
A smile appeared lined with more than a little mischief. “Full disclosure: I told him you’d do it already. Now, you don’t want to make me look bad, do you?” Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. If knew the answer it would be her. “See, I have good ideas sometimes, don’t I? Say yes to that too and I’ll bring you coffee on your first official day of painting.”
Rowan let all of Severin’s words sink in. He’d already recommended her. The job seemed like it was made for her, anyway. Maybe it was, being the coven’s Bard and all, but she wasn’t the only painter in town, either. She drank more coffee and looked straight ahead, away from Severin. The man sitting beside her was the first person she’d met who seemed changed for the better and it was an odd thought to have considering the toll the war took on everyone. He was the same amount of charming, sure, but this business with the council hardly fit the description for the Severin she dumped after The Academy.
She stood up and put her bags over her shoulders one at a time, finally looking back down at Sev with a smile that disappeared under teeth raking over her lower lip. “Yes. I want a double shot mocha latte on my first day. It’s the least you can do for volunteering me for free labor without my permission, Mr. Councilman Ealing.” She meant to leave. She really did. Instead, she lingered. This dose of Severin was proving to be a bit more than she wanted to think about. Maybe it was a trick--he’d switched on his best act to get her on board with the mural and then he’d be back to his old ways, skating through life aimlessly. Or maybe not. Rowan had a feeling she was going to find out.
Why couldn’t she have spilled coffee on somebody else’s shoes? “Do you... think we can get in the building so I can look at the space right now?”
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declan.
Declan grinned. “You should see me on the dance floor. I’m a regular Fred Flinstone.” Going up on tip toes, he pirouetted, or tried to anyway. He wasn’t a natural dancer by even the most kind definitions, but he was capable of being a clown. At least, he had been. Now that the war was over, he wasn’t entirely sure who he was anymore. “I’m honoured. Is the baton lime green and glowing, or does it just shoot glitter and play Lady Gaga albums?”
He suspected that was the answer to most questions these days. I don’t know. What did any of them know? They’d lost so many people that they were all filling in for someone, and now they had to figure out being grown ups when they hadn’t even finished being adolescents. It was bizarre. “Yeah, I moved everything important into the barn. I’m not sure if I should stay in town or at home. If I get snowed in, I won’t be able to go to classes.” Chewing his lip, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s weird, right? That things just keep happening? You’d think, after … everything, stuff would pause while we get used to it.”
Rowan rolled her eyes at Declan’s little show of his ballet skills, taking a half step toward him in case he tripped over himself and bit it. Luckily, he didn’t. “Both, of course. It’s a bitch trying to load up the baton with glitter, but you gotta do what you gotta do.”
Considering Declan’s dilemma, Rowan tilted her head and looked up in thought. “You think they’re still gonna hold classes with all the snow? Maybe you should stick around at home in case you’re needed. Take some books with you. Or...” Rowan leaned in and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You could stay at the academy and avoid all the hassle. Up to you,” she said with a grin. “I’m not sure I want to get stuck at home with just my parents. Sounds kinda boring.”
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spencer.
Spencer glanced up, watching the golden eagle in slight awe before focusing back on Rowan with a nod. “When have I ever made you pay for anything?” He asked before giving her a small smirk, “Maybe don’t answer that.” He joked, “And I’m not going to put you to work. It’s Sunday, day of rest. But if you’re up for it. I’m going to drop off these pastries and head up to Nox Livery. I need a new horse. When uh, the farm was taken over. The took most of our animals. We only have two left and we need a few more to take on the work load. You interested?”
Moving to grab the chocolate glazed doughnut, he took a bite, “Nope. I’m only your errand boy.” He said with a slight wink, “Climb on in.”
Rowan looked from the warlock to the truck and the big dog sitting in it. She really couldn’t say no to a trip to the Livery, a place she rarely needed to visit but enjoyed all the same. “I have never bought a horse before in my life and I do feel the need to jump at the opportunity.” Rowan flashed a grin at him, doing as he said and climbing into the truck.
She knew a bit about what happened to the Locke farm, only that it was taken over by Unholy Saints while Spencer was away fighting. Rowan couldn’t imagine all that needed to be done on such a large property. Her own estate was managed by a few faithful family friends while Rowan and her parents left to fight, but the house was broken into and robbed and trashed a few times. Nothing precious was stolen and windows could be fixed. Others were not so lucky with their homes while away.
“I’ve never had an errand boy before,” Rowe mused with a teasing grin. “Just drive me around where you need to go for now, how’s that?”
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zadie.
Rowan was the exception, and she didn’t really follow any rules. Zadie hated people, now, most all of them. Found them suspicious, or annoying, or just too simple-minded for the world that they now inhabited. She walked around like a ghost, most of the time, unable to keep up with their subtleties and nuances, unable to quiet the shrieking storm in her head to hold a conversation.
But Rowan was different. Maybe it was that they’d lived their whole lives together, moving in lock step around the valley. Maybe it was that Rowan never seemed to ask what had happened in the war, where she’d been, who she’d seen, how she’d survived. Maybe it was that the brunette didn’t look at her with pity.
Zadie sat on the edge of the armchair, oddly at ease with the threadbare fabric, the springs digging into her legs. For awhile, pain had meant that she was still alive. She still felt positive connotations to it.
“Yeah.”
I want a reading.
Obediently, she waited for the cards to come out and placed her hands on them. Almost lovingly, her fingers ran over the weathered backs, the time-smoothed edges. She swallowed and shut her eyes.
“Will I–” She stopped. Hesitance. It wasn’t like her; every move she’d made during captivity had been intentional. Calculated. Hellbent on keeping her alive for the next day. Zadie shivered as the wind picked up. “What happened to Ollie?”
Rowan set the deck out for Zadie to touch, to reflect on the question. Her cousin settled on the arm rest of the chair, Rowe watching with a quiet deference. She knew Zadie almost as well as she knew herself. They grew up together, told each other secrets, cried and laughed the whole way. Rowe knew very little about what happened to her cousin in the war. Everything was secondhand. Captured. And there was Rowe, after the brief trauma of her failed leadership as a squad leader, sent to the back lines to train new recruits. A relatively comfortable post, considering.
What happened to Ollie?
Taking the cards into her hands, Rowan shuffled the deck. Then she placed three cards in front of them on the table, aiming with intent as each card was selected.
King of Cups. Ten of Swords. Six of Swords.
Rowan stared at the cards, speechless. Past, present, future. She could try and maneuver around the meaning, but there wouldn’t be any use. Zadie knew just as well as she did what it meant.
Past. “Balance, even in trying times.” Present. “Painful wounds.” Future. “Resistance to change.”
Her face fell, wilted. “What do you think?” she whispered.
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zadie-maclain:
the watch. → @rowanmaclain
“Figures.”
The outpost was barely that; just a shack on the north end of the valley. Up there, the mountains towered over them, high peaks visible when there wasn’t much fog. Not like then. Cold and damp had settled over the northern side like a blanket, bringing heavy must along with it.
She bent, lit the oil lamp. It sputtered a bit, and the inside of the hurricane lamp was splattered with black soot, but it lit. Zadie moved to the fireplace, throwing some logs in there. “That they’d put us together up here.”
Halfway to the northernmost point of the valley, there weren’t many farms up that way. But there were caves, caves where soldiers hid during the war, where children played before that. Caves that might hide a poltergeist, should it want respite. She struck the match against the flint stone along the hearth, set the kindling to light. Zadie looked up, over at her cousin.
“Did you bring your cards?”
A thermos of orange spiced tea in one hand, and the other stuffed in the pocket of her black denim jacket, Rowe had just come in from the blistering cold. Running late, as usual. But she came with a backpack hanging over a shoulder filled with whatever she could think of that would help them survive a stakeout.
“What? You should be more thrilled to spend time with me, your only cousin.” A lie. They had so many cousins.
Rowan had already taken a spot at the small table just outside the kitchen where she began to unload some things from her bag. A lift of a brow as she placed the box of tarot cards on the table, along with a music box she had enchanted herself in case things got too quiet.
“I think this is a problem for the Saints, personally. They’re the ones always kicking up spirits.” Rowan didn’t like the idea of leaving her parents behind at their house. Maybe it should have bothered her how easily she obeyed orders. It was too late to go back now, and there was no way she’d leave Zadie up here alone. “You want a reading to kill some time, Zade?”
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sev.
He smiled gently. It was all anyone could do with the fractured post-war stories. Because everyone had been affected in some way and yet they were all supposed to go on as if nothing had changed. Rowan should know him well enough to lean a little on him if needed. She’d been there when his brother died. Been there through all the good and bad since the Academy. But he reminded the witch silently, lifting a finger on the hand rested between them on the bench to tap Rowan’s. “At least he doesn’t have to look out for you, then I’d feel sorry for him.”
“No need for pamphlets, the book club is full. Hate to be the one to break it since you’re clearly dying to be in it.” Mr. Councilman Ealing. An unfamiliar sound, a foreign language a part of him wanted desperately to be fluent in. And then another side of Sev wanted to shut his ears to it altogether.
“Reverend Burroughs mentioned a change to the inside of the main building. Something in which to.. liven up the place. Welcome returning members. Uhm.” Yeah, all that stuff. “He asked if I knew an artist who might be interested in a paying gig to paint a mural. I said I personally knew the best artist in town.” A beat for timing. “But they’re busy, which is why I decided to ask you.”
Another pause with a grin. He’d instantly thought of Rowan for the job, it was a no-brainer. “Kidding of course– so what do you think? Actually, no. Don’t think, just say yes.”
“Are you saying I’m a handful? I’m insulted.” Severin probably knew better than most. Rowan knew how she could be difficult. Demanding, a perfectionist that liked checking things off her to do list and accomplishing things at a rapid fire pace. It had been what separated them, she realized. The warlock was content to drift about like a leaf in the wind while Rowan took her life by the reins and ran. Now things were different. The things that mattered to her before were scattered like a broken vase shattered on the floor.
Just say yes. It was easy, suddenly, sitting beside Sev with hot coffee on a cold day. Laughing, when there weren’t many things to laugh about. Even a bad joke was a welcome reprieve from the dour mood in the valley. “Yes,” she said, putting the coffee cup to her lips to conceal a smile.
“I did that mural on the side of the Thomas’s barn right after we graduated. It got burned to the ground. So, I guess I’m in the market to do another one.” Rowan was already thinking about what it would entail. It couldn’t just be anything if it was going inside the Circle of Dark’s headquarters. “Are you pulling my leg though? Is that really what the Reverend wants, a mural?” Rowe fixed a suspicious glare paired with a grin at Sev. He could be making it all up just to get her hopes up and she was a bit too fragile for any tricks at the moment.
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spencer.
Spencer raised an eyebrow, “I wouldn’t be feeding a stray like you if I wasn’t ready to accept you in my home. My mama always taught me to offer tea with my scones.” He teased, giving her another charming smile. “Although I may put your to work. That is a risk you might need to take.”
Holding out his bag, he gave her a good look of all the pastries and sweets he had in the bag. “Well, close. My two brother eat me out of a house at home. Might as well feed an army.” He joked, “What are you doing in town so early?”
A rustle of leaves signaled the arrival of her familiar Penelope, landing in a nearby tree with a fresh catch in her talons. Yellow eyes settled on the two. Rowan glanced over Spencer at the golden eagle in the tree and shrugged a shoulder, and her familiar went on with breakfast.
“Hmm, everything comes with a price,” Rowan said with a smirk. Rowe peered inside the offered bag and took out what she thought was a lemon poppy seed scone. She wouldn’t mind working, she thought. Feeling useful was important to her, now more than ever. “Thanks, Spencer. I don’t know how useful I’d be at the farm, but I can pay you back for this.” She shook her head at his question, taking a bite out of the pastry. “I came out for some air. To get out of the house, that kinda thing. Are you someone’s errand boy today then?”
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