[center][hider=Witch Hunt Cast][center][img]http://i.imgur.com/M7SP0oU.png[/img][/center] [center] [img]http://i.imgur.com/50eMiVQ.jpg?1[/img][/center][/hider][/center] [center][i][h1]The Calm Before the Storm[/h1][/i] [i][h3]Part 2[/h3][/i][/center] [center][b]Lachance Stronghold – Henderson, Nevada Time: Late Evening, Present Day[/b][/center] [hr] Marie and Benjamin were taken to adjacent rooms down a long and winding corridor. The walls were etched at the top and bottom with intricate vines that seemed to twist around one another in the corner of one’s eye. The decor was rustic, almost medieval, with grandiose furnishings and wall hangings, many of which sported rich banners and clothes dyed royal purples or deep greens; Faerie colors, Marie noticed. The two of them were given as much comfort as was available; Marie was taken to a spare bedroom constructed for witches seeking asylum, one of a few that dotted the whole of the sanctuary, while Ben was carefully placed on a large bench in one of the work rooms so as not to get blood or fur on the good linens. Genevieve came to Marie’s room first, two women in tow, one carrying a censure and a pewter bowl, the other a black book and short dagger. They positioned themselves in a triangle, Genevieve at the foot of the bed, the two witches on either side of Marie. “It is a most insidious poison that courses through your veins,” Genevieve cautioned Marie, taking the book in her hands. “Designed to sap our kind of our strength, deplete our will and weaken the cunning flame. It is imparted on silver objects via a ‘blessing,’ though few who have felt its sting would think it so.” She leaned down with a smile. “Fortunately, the rite to purge your body of this curse is a simple one, if not a little time consuming. We will need to bleed you, however, just a little. The herbs in the censure should dull your senses. Close your eyes now.” Marie did as asked, letting herself drift away, taking in the bitter scent of the burning herbs. It was familiar, traces of belladonna, mandragora, ergot, trance inducing herbs used in works of physical and spiritual flight. A wave of euphoria came over Marie. Her muscles relaxed, her mind was at ease, and slowly she fell into a deep sleep, no, something more than sleep. Her eyes fluttered open once more, but as her vision cleared, she saw herself lying in bed, the witches hard at work. It had been too long since Marie had undergone the spirit flight, releasing her spirit from her body in the traditional way. She smiled as she watched them work, Genevieve reciting an incantation in some old French dialect, one witch wafting the smoke from the censure over Marie’s body, the other bringing the bowl and blade to her outstretched arm. Marie’s spirit flinched as she watched herself be cut, though she could feel nothing. A stream of black bile poured from her veins into the waiting vessel, a result of the enchantment, Marie thought. The dark fluid continued to fill the pewter bowl. So much fled her body that Marie wondered if they meant to bleed her dry. After a few more moments, however, her arm began to bleed red once more, prompting the witches to cover it to stop the bleeding. Genevieve took the filled container into both hands, incanting over it until its contents burst into flames. Marie’s spirit felt invigorated, stronger, though not at peak strength. Her body was covered and left to rest, Genevieve brushing a stray hair from Marie’s face as she whispered into her ear. “Rest now, and do not exert yourself unnecessarily. We’re off to help the wolf. He should be fine when you wake.” They filed into the other room where Ben lay motionless on the bench, a second pair of witches, one man and one woman, strapping his limbs to the legs of the bench in case he became violent. It seemed harsh, but Genevieve couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t rip his way through the sanctuary if given a chance. Marie followed in silence, noting Ben’s nostrils opening slightly upon her arrival. Could he sense her spirit? Holt hopped around on a nearby table as a shadowy raven, motioning with his beak to an opened manuscript detailing the procedure the witches were to perform. Genevieve ran her finger over the page, ensuring she understand the finer details before turning to Ben. “I don’t know if you can hear me,” she spoke plainly, her voice firm with little sign of any other emotion. “Or if you can even understand me as you are. Regardless, the illness which plagues you is twofold. The silver in your system paralyzes you, as I understand, but the blessing applied to the bullets is also working against you. Now,” Genevieve spoke louder, circling around Ben to a large bowl filled with dried purple flowers. “If the rantings of an eighteenth century Swedish alchemist are to be believed, a fumigation of dried aconite petals will stimulate the muscles and upset your system enough to cause a violent reaction similar to nausea. The common name for aconite is wolfsbane, quite deadly to your kind as I hear. Fear not, the fumes won’t kill you, though I cannot speak to any side effects you may experience after your system has been purged.” Marie moved closer to Ben, running an invisible hand over his head. She hoped it might be enough to calm him. This was undoubtedly a highly stressful situation for him and the wolf. Had he not already been turned, he would surely have done so by now. Genevieve placed the smoking herbs near to Ben’s face, wafting the smoke into his nostrils. At the same time, a woman knelt down and carefully cupped his snout, gently pouring a cool, bitter liquid into his mouth. “We’ve prepared a tincture for the nausea. There are a few muscle relaxers in there as well. I’m afraid that is all we can do for now. According to Marie’s notes, you should regain feeling and mobility soon, though the nausea might make you a little rowdy. Apologies for the restraints, but I must keep the coven’s best interests in mind. Try to rest. We’ll alert your friends to signs of improvement.” Genevieve led her witches from the room, locking the door behind her and ordering a few of them to check in regularly. She passed by the room holding Kat, Yeong, and Ji, looking them over to make sure they hadn’t gotten themselves into trouble, then turned a corner and returned to the tree at the center of the stronghold. Some time later. . . Marie felt the pull of her body stirring. She’d sat at the foot of her bed, glancing back to Ben’s room now and again to look for signs of movement. Her awareness faded, her senses dampening as she returned to her awakening form. As she sat up in her bed, Marie could feel the sting of the cut used in the rite, though it had healed remarkably in the time since Genevieve’s purification. She scanned the room, catching Holt pacing the room as a hare in her periphery. [color=90ee90][i]Awake at last,[/i][/color] Holt sounded satisfied, pleased even. He hopped up onto the bed and sat next to Marie. [color=90ee90][i]I can feel your strength returning as we speak. How do you feel?[/i][/color] [color=ffe4b5]”Better,”[/color] Marie let out in a single breath, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. [color=ffe4b5]”It’s been a long day.”[/color] [color=90ee90][i]Indeed, but now that we’ve had a chance to rest, will you tell me what you saw? It was a memory, wasn’t it?[/i][/color] Marie shook her head. [color=ffe4b5]”Not now, I need a bit of fresh air. I’ll tell you outside.”[/color]