[Center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/778ddf4a-0cb5-45f7-ab5a-53a9d8d32dae.png[/img]
Familiar/ 329 / Male
[B]Location:[/b] The great room [b]Tags:[/b] Open[/center]

The French door creaked open as the old hinges fought the abuse of time. Ismael made a mental note to spray them with some oil. Not everything in this place needed to be fixed by magic. 

He slunk into the shadows of the great room, casted by large bookcases and pillars, and a fire that perpetually burned in the stone fireplace. Among company, he was always personable. Everyone knew Ismael as being the glue that held them all together: he was the friendly and comfortable familiar that ensured the manor felt like home. He had broad and valuable connections across the magic community, to other covens and creatures. He had extensive knowledge of the inner workings and politics of the magical world. He was irreplaceable.

But alone, in his spare time, he was just a man with a forever broken heart; a wound that no spell or salve could heal. 

Her emerald green eyes stared down at him from above the mantel. Her long, curly brown hair was captured beautifully within the ornate frame. Her smile was that of mischief and hidden knowledge. Even after three hundred years, the sight of her took him. 

Agatha had been an extraordinary witch. No one would ever be able to replace her, and certainly not for Ismael. Oftentimes, he would sit on the leatherbound sofa in front of the fire and just stare at the embers, reminiscing.



[Center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/743b264c-e31f-479c-a78a-46fd18fa794b.png[/img]
Witch / 401 / Male
[b]Location[/b]: The South Field [b]Tags[/b]: Open[/center]
Ceobes nodded at the young man's response and looked over as another, meeker young member of the coven entered the kitchen. It was getting a bit too crowded for his taste, now. 

"Well, I'll best be going. I must prepare the south field for this class."

He finished off his mug of coffee and let go of it. It floated itself to the sink, glowing the same fuschia as before, and set down with a light tink. 

Ceobes raised a gloved hand and drew his pointer finger down through the air, dragging open what looked like a hole in the very fabric of space and time. The edges of the portal sparked and crackled with the characteristic pink energy that his magic possessed. Ceobes stepped through it, and both disappeared. He may have been showing off just a bit, but also the south field was a long walk and he was running low on time. 

The portal spat him out right where he wanted to be. The field was surrounded by a dense line of trees that would keep the prying eyes of the humans outside the grounds at bay. Ceobes opened another portal, but instead of going inside, he summoned several objects out. A dozen practice dummies floated from the hole, followed by their stakes. This hole lead directly to the educational supply room deep within the mansion. He withdrew several beginner and intermediate Magical Defense books, a few wands should any of the younger participants be unable to direct magic without a medium, and a couple emergency medical kits, just in case.

Ceobes stood, arms crossed and back straight, as he oversaw the supplies setting themselves up. The dummies staked themselves into the ground, the books stacked themselves neatly, and the medical kits sorted through the items inside each to ensure they weren't missing or expired. 

Finally, it appeared as though he were ready. Ceobes pulled an ornate and antique looking pocket watch from his slacks and checked the time. His students would be arriving soon.