PatientBean

Strange Academy: Journey into Mystery

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Location: Dorm Room -> Professor Mikail's Sitting Room
Grimoire: N/A
Skills: Memorization, Acrobatics
Current Outfit

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Cassie sat and waited as the others trickled in. Willow being first. Cassie's eyes lit up seeing her, but diminished just as qickly. She still liked Willow, still wanted to be her friend, but she was still sore from Willow's words. Cassie had wanted to help, sure, but part of it was also both of them being new. As much as Cassie wanted to meet others and explore and learn, she also wanted to ensure she had someone here that was in the same boat as her, albeit Willow was obviously more trained. Cassie thought Willow understood that, but she was wrong. If she wanted to be with others and not her, Cassie would not get in her way. Cassie nodded slightly, but kept silent.

Cassie's eyes drifted over to the other jorunals as Willow picked up hers. The two that remained were for Cal and Nick but....wait did Cassie see that? She looked again and saw the name on one of the journals. It wasn't a name she recognized. Did they have someone new in their coven now?

Paedrus? And the last name was the same. Did they have another brother?

Her answers were quickly given as Nick entered. He looked...different. Last night's events must have taken it out of him. His eyes scanned the jorunals too and he quickly went over to get his, covering it up quickly. Cassie looked at him, wondering why she was being so weird about it.

Before she could ask Cal entered and sat down next to her, grabbing his own jorunal. She felt heat in her face. Was it her imagination or did he seem especially happy to see her? But wasn't he comfortable with the twins? With Willow? Was it for real or for pleasure? Was that a possibility for her also?

As her mind wandered to interesting areas, Professor Mikail entered flamboyantly. Cassie smiled warmly as he went on to explain what they would be doing together. She was thankful to have Professor Mikail as her mentor. She had a feeling out of all of the ones here, he would be he one she was most comfortable with.

Discovering mysteries of the past sounded intriguing and Cassie watched intensely as Mikail wrote on the old-fashioned chalkboard. The words he wrote tickled Cassie a bit. She was sure she remembered something. She studied Latin at home with her teachers, something she thought would never apply in real life, but she knew those words. And she remembered reading how it applied in history.

But, her eyes drifted to Cal. Would he be impressed with her knowledge? Perhaps so, but if she wanted to have a chance with him, she needed to be bold. Since Mikail offered tea, then tea would have to do. "I know this one," she said as she picked up two tea cups and placed them in front of her and Cal. She started to pour some in her's as she spoke. "Loosely translated it means 'Witch's Hammer'"

As Cassie started to turn to pour some tea for Cal, she felt her foot slide a bit on seemingly nothing as she stumbled a bit, tea pot inching over and the lid slipped off, as she saw the amber traces of the liquid leave its home and land squarely on Cal's lap. Cassie's eyes widened in horror as she swiftly set the pot down. "Oh god, I am so sorry Cal! Let me clean that up." Cassie grabbed a towel and started patting Cal's lap as she slowly realized how close she was to him and his....well you know. Heat burned her cheeks and she tried to clean up, but realized she should stop patting him. She left the towel there. "Sorry about that! Umm where was I...right so back in the 15th century there was a man named Heinrich Krammer who wrote a document detailing ways to handle witches, demons, and spirits in illegal manners. Despite being condembed by the Inquisition at the time, the Pope supported it. This also coincided with the invention of the printing press which allowed it to spread qucikly. This was also a huge part of the Witch Hunts in Europe." Cassie sat back down, decidedly not looking at Cal. "I am so sorry Cal."

She wished the Earth would just swallow her whole.

Lamplight

I mean I have my moments, but I think I have definitely grown as a writer. Part of it is my love of reading from a young age, but I also learn a lot from others.

That's not to say I don't get in my own thoughts. Depression will do that.

Lamplight

CST

Lamplight

@Tally Dor You are correct, so all good

Lamplight

I'd be down to help

Strange Academy: Journey into Mystery

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Location: Dorm Room -> Professor Mikail's Sitting Room
Grimoire: N/A
Skills: N/A
Current Outfit

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Blood.

It was the first thing she noticed, running down her finger and dripping onto the floor. Whose, she wasn't quite sure, but the ringing in her ears didn't help her focus. Her vision faded in and out and even standing hurt. Every part of her screamed in exhaustion, her muscles burning and her throat raw and the violent shake in her hands more and more apparent. The runic circle, carved in brown-reddish brick between the marble pavers, shattered ages ago and barely anything could be read on them. Centuries of enhancements failed beneath…

A long dragon's talon, the meat of the hand it was torn from still clinging to it, rolled into her view.

Her magic was spent. Every drop of red powered this hell. She couldn't muster any more energy - the easiest thing was to let go.

A butterfly, runes glowing on its wings, landed softly in Cassie's bloodied hand and its proboscis dipped into her blood. Every beat of its wings echoed, whispers following in its wake, and the exhaustion, and the scene fade as slumber reached up and claimed Cassie once again.

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Cassie's first sleep in her new home was...not ideal. She was used to nightmares. She got them often, some she remembered and some she wanted to forget. She woke up with a start, looking around her room, curious if she woke Rohan or Call. It seemed her worries were for naught as neither man was there with her. She took a few calming breaths before she sank back into her pillows. Herm mind racing over the meaning. Dreams meant something, didn't they? She thought she read about that in the myriad of books her parents expected her to read for her studies. But this dream, this was different. It felt like it was calling out to her. She also felt like there was something on the edge. Did one of the butterflies....speak to her? She closed her eyes and tried to recall.

`Healthy and hale they'd have you believe. Illusions belie what changes and lifts, in dire need a friend shall end.`

Those words meant little, but she knew she heard them. Another mystery in the ever growing assortment of them she was beginning to find here at this school.

She finally rolled out of bed and started making it up when she remembered. Magic. Would the room object because of laziness or reward for her ingenuity of magic, something she had not gotten used to? What harm did it do to try? Cassie did the same thing she did before, visualizing what she wanted her bed to look like. Same decorations, same adornments. Within a whisper of a moment her bed had shifted to how it was before she crawled in the night prior. All made up, no wrinkles, no creases. Cassie bounced on her feet and applauded herself. The dream slowly edging out of her mind, but never truly disappearing.

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Cassie got dressed (butterflies seemingly becoming a theme for her) as she made her way to Professor Mikail's sitting room. She was both anxious and excited to see what they would be doing. Would they be learning new spells? Exploring the grounds? Doing ice breakers that revealed deeply rooted secrets that would forever change their dynamic and relationships with each other going forward? It was unclear. But it was so thrilling!

Cassie entered and was amazed by everything she saw. There were wonders in every nook and cranny in his sitting room and she wanted to explore, but stopped herself. She was new here and this was her first day. She wanted to impress Professor Mikail, not scare him away by her nosiness. Instead, her eyes focused on the table and the four journals resting on it. She saw that one bore her name along with the cute symbol that was on her pin. She picked it up and sat down on the couch, eager to open it and see if it was filled with text or if she would be the one to do so. She held it close to her chest, hugging it, bouncing slightly in the chair as she waited for the others and for the day to start.

She knew it was going to be magical.

Avengers Academy: X of Swords ⚔️

Hulkling

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Location: Contest of Champions
Gear: N/A
Skills: N/A

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He still didn't quite know what was going on. Perhaps it was one of the Excelsior team members that messed with his head? Wasn't one of them a telepath of some sort? Or maybe the ghost boy possessed him and made him forget himself. Either way, he needed to collect his thoughts. His team was relying on him.

He heard someone call out to Amnesia. That was the telepath. He looked around briefly, but didn't see her. She probably moved away to start messing with their heads again. But...wouldn't she be within her force field?

He still stood within the force field as he began to move towards his intended target. He felt the momentum shift as the force field around him shatter. "Good, one less thing in our way," he thought to himself. He noticed some movement in his peripheral and looked to see America flying towards him. Wonderful, some back-up would not go unwarranted and he knew from experience that America was a force to be reckoned with. He held his hand up in welcome as America landed but....wait, what was she doing? America had landed very close to him, leg outstretched as if she was trying to hit him, but that couldn't be right. A misunderstanding, surely. His head was still foggy. He began to speak when he saw America, grin on her face, knuckles cracked, lean her arm back and...

What was the feeling of having all of the air in your lungs leave en masse? It was unlike anything he had felt before and it had come from someone he considered a friend. He laid on the ground, feeling the depth of the punch on his body. Any movement was met with a cry of pain and every breath taken after the fact was horror. America looked dejected and upset, which yeah she should, but she flew off before he could even begin to formulate some words to ask why the fuck she did that to him?

He didn't notice everyone else for a minute. Not Cassie turning into a literal giant. Not the other team running around to help each other. Instead, weirdly enough, he saw red. He was pissed! He stood up gradually, catching his breath, before he looked up and saw her. One of the Excelsior team members. He remembered Patriot's words to focus on 'the mermaid'. Either way, he was not in a good mood. Taking it one step at a time, he increased speed as he ran at the girl and, knocking back his fist, he sent his momentum forward, launching a punch at her directly in her face. He felt the girl's nose crack. Anger still winning out over any other emotion, he reeled back and hit her again, albeit not in her face but on her side. If he could take her out it would be one less problem to deal with.

And then.....

Sabine Bassard

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Location: Contest of Champions
Gear: N/A
Skills: N/A

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Sabine felt as if she blacked out. When she came to she looked around. The scene had changed drastically from when she last remembered. She recalled trying to get into Hulkling's mind and then....nothing. Emptiness. But she had to have done something.

She felt something on her hand and looked down to see blood. Was she hurt? She felt sore and bruised, especially on her chest, but she didn't feel like she was bleeding anywhere. She looked up and her eyes focused on someone in front of her.

April. Beaten. Bruised. And Sabine standing on top.

No. No that wasn't what happened. She would never hurt April. It wasn't possible. But...she looked at her hand again. Felt the pain as if she had just hit something.

What the hell was happening? Did the Young Avengers mess with her? Was it Wiccan's doing? Did one of them somehow have powers to alter her own mind? None of this happened until she tried to get into Hulkling's head.

And it clicked. Somehow it was his fault.

Sabine clenched her hurt fist and grabbed her sword, swinging it around to face the other team. Her eyes locked on Hulkling as she strode forward, sword behind her, anger in her features. As she neared, she unleashed the sword and swung it. Clearly never having done that before, it swiped at Hulkling, slicing him a bit, enough to get his attention. "I don't know what you did or how but I will never forgive you for it. You and your team are finished!

Lamplight

@Raqueltrper As I mentioned in my own post, Tiffany's mother was killed in a fire and her father hated her. He basically put her in the foster care system and wanted nothing to do with her. It is a very real possibility the two of them are related through some uncle or aunt or cousin or whatever. I am cool with deciding how that looks.

Lamplight

Tiffany Graves
Tiffany Graves

The Spooky
Harm: 0
Luck: 0

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^{Carry-On Motel: Room 149}

The motel room felt claustrophobic, as if the walls themselves ebbed and flowed based on an internal heartbeat deep within its crevices. For all anyone knew, the motel itself was a living, breathing organism that fed on the unwashed masses that entered the front door with the jingling bell that promised some sort of mirth despite all evidence to the contrary. The man at the front desk, the one who had one hand on the desk to sign guests in and the other hidden not-so-discreetly underneath the counter towards his lap that fed the imagination of anyone who dared look him in the eye. The keys behind him, moving ever so slightly in the wind that smelled of discarded dreams and a lit cinnamon candle as if that would hide the motel's sins.

Tiffany had slept in much worse conditions (when she slept at all, which, admittedly, was few and far between evenings). She didn't like the way the motel clerk looked at her and ensured both locks on her door were engaged, as well as a chair placed under the knob (since she didn't trust the locks that looked like they wouldn't stop a whisper, let alone an intruder).

As she sat on the bed as the words overtook her brain, she wondered why she had come here. It wasn't as if she held roots anywhere else. It wasn't like she would be missed if the ever-present shadows that haunted her peripheral finally took her to its home. Any semblance of connection she held was either obliterated or damaged beyond recognition. And any that did hold was only hanging on by the slimmest of threads. She was sure she had an aunt somewhere or a cousin thereabouts who, during the middle of dinner when they weren't cursing their fucking rotten luck to be living in "dead end" nowhere while they worked their 9 to 5 and patted their back they didn't take the paper cutter on their desk to Rebecca in reception's arteries whenever she popped her bubble gum would ask "hey, I wonder what happened to Tiffany. You know, Tiffany? Used to be cute as a button until her mother was killed in that fire and her father took her to some priest or other because he believed his daughter was.....what did he say....oh right 'Satan incarnate'".

As if on cue, whenever Lucifer was brought up, the slow buzz in her head was silenced as she heard the whispers creeping around the corner. The words played around with tone and intonation as if it was presenting in front of a college class and needed to add drama to ensure they at least received a B for their efforts (participation counts for 20% of your grade, fucking monsters).

And then, the vision.

Not the first she had ever received, though they never got less disruptive. She felt herself rattle and shake as she saw the images vividly. The destruction. The carnage. The blood (always blood). A girl, perhaps the core of what the voices were talking about. Could be the missing girl she saw on one of the posters that was hung up haphazardly as if the barest of efforts to ensure she was found safely and, if not, at least intact could not be met by the man at the gas station and rang her up for the stale coffee she wanted while he stared at her chest.

As the vision ended, she paused to calm down (or at least stop rattling the bed lest her neighbors assume she is carrying on with more than she intended). Tiffany finally opened her eyes and regretted it as the color of the motel room's walls would make anyone contemplate taking their own life, as it would only improve the decor to find a rotting corpse on the stained carpet.

She swore inwardly, knowing that the vision she saw was to happen unless she stepped in to put a stop to it. Just another apocalyptic event that required her services. It was almost comical how much 'cosmic good' she did, and yet she never felt she earned her place in heaven because what sort of god or god-like entity would put her through all of this shit?

Tiffany walked towards the dresser, which held few possessions that any would-be thief would second-guess taking because dear Christ what person lived like this, and why weren't they the ones doing petty crime, and grabbed the small bottle of whiskey she bought with her coffee and took a swig. It would be empty by the day's end, but at least it burned in her throat by her own hand.

Grabbing her supplies, she went to the bathroom mirror and checked herself. Soulless eyes, dark circles, hair that she was proud of on a good day, and wanted to shave off on all of the bad. She could feel the pulse in her temples as she wanted to smash the mirror to break up the image of a woman who maybe had her life together, if only to show the cracks she felt inwardly.

Once she was satisfied she would not take a broken shard to her wrists, she left and entered the motel hallway. Tonight was going to be a fucking horrible night.

Why break tradition?

Lamplight

@Antarctica I would like to post today, so is there something with my premonition roll?