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3 yrs ago
Current I hate waiting...
4 yrs ago
5 yrs ago
Feeling flaccid
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5 yrs ago
Responsibility belongs not to the name stenciled on the mantel, but to the one who carries the mantle.
5 yrs ago
"Strike me down, and I'll not fight back; Threaten my brothers, and even death will not protect you from my wrath." -- Blackswordkirito I couldn't have said it any better myself.
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I average 1-3 posts per week, usually per RP, but sometimes total.

Most Recent Posts

Hey everyone, so between the COVID craziness, royally missunderstanding the projected plot, and other RL stuff I'd rather not share here I am dropping out. Apologies fore most to Canaryrose, for shoddy character design on my part. And to the other writers for the sudden notice. I hope you all enjoy the rest of the story and the drama it causes.

Ret'urcye mhi.
Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar

Uaithne watched the fight unfold with annoyance. Dakota picked a fight over jewelry Astro had picked up... Didn't even try to verify the claim, just picked a fight. Summer took the punch, responded with a surprisingly cool head. A simple illusion spell most likely, her speciality. Uaithne doubted even Calypso would realize just how lucky Dakota was to be fighting the illusionist and not someone else. Calypso decided to join the fight... Pity, she had seemed an intelligent child.

Summer stumbled off, shit that's a bad night waiting to happen. Uaithne slipped his pack back on and slipped silently into the woods after Summer, pausing just long enough to string his bow. He moved with the shadows, in practiced silent ease. He'd been hunting these lands since Dad had died. He knew these trees, and the paths between them. Not that he needed to with the noise Summer was making stumbling through he woods probably partially blinded by tears.

He noticed others following Summer, less quietly, and hoped she wouldn't react by just running blindly farther into the night. There wasn't anything to worry about yet, nothing big enough to hurt Summer or the others nearby; but she was making good time, and was headed for big animal territory. Uaithne would have to keep alert, but that was a simple task. He easily heard Jean-Luc's shout... And his pathetic speech.

Uaithne paused in his hunting; a sharp cracking, as thick glass was broken, and the spell within spilled over him. Uaithne persuaded an owl to take the bracelet, that was apparently Summer's after all, to Summer. Uaithne gave Jean-Luc a parting snear, and resumed his silent stalking through the night moving with the shadows to ward of any local predators Summer might stumble into. Thankfully there weren't any wolf packs this close to the Coven. So a bear or wildcat would be the most likely to protest Summer's presence though foxes and cougars also roamed the mountains they usually stayed farther from the coven house, like the wolves.

He kept his bow ready, an arrow which had been dipped in a fast acting numbing agent resting on the string. The poison would last only a few minutes for a bear, that was more than enough time to follow up with something designed for bear. Uaithne stayed about 30-50meters from Summer, always moving silently in the shadows, but close enough to keep her in his peripheral awareness while watching for trouble. He heard people talking to Summer, and saw the owl silently deliver her bracelet like the Hogwarts post. The owl kept flying, it had paused it's hunt for an evening snack to deliver the bracelet.

It seemed as if the days ahead would be full of immaturity, stupidity, and half baked plans. Uaithne decided to make the most of it. He might even manage a friend or two... though he doubted it. Plenty of others had lost parents, but it didn't effect them the same. Maybe they had siblings, or their remaining friends filled the gaps somewhat. He never could quite connect with anyone. But that could wait, the wind rustling through the trees brought Uaithne back to the present and he scanned his soundings on high alert. For now, he focussed on just keeping the local predators at bay...

Speaks to: N/A

Mentions: Summer @Danvers, Jean-Luc, Cal, Kota, Kate, Jeremy.
Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar

Pockets filled, Uaithne took a deep breath to help the last of the anger evaporate into the cool night air. He left the porch, and stopped just long enough for a plate of food to top him off before continuing to the campfire. He almost got away clean... almost avoided Aunt Brigid and mother.

"Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar, what ever is the matter with you?"

Stopping in his tracks, he sighed turning slightly to get it over with. Wasn't any point in trying to run away, Aunt Brigid would burn the whole forest just to find him, and then he'd still have to answer her incessant queries... He shrugged a shoulder and stared into the darkness, to ashamed to meet her gaze.

"I... not only failed to be even remotely useful but also snapped at Sister Deborah. She's probably going to give me an ear full later. Now... All I can hear is the father I don't have. I don't think I will be able to sleep tonight."

Uaithne was surprised to be enveloped by both mother and Aunt Brigid. He couldn't remember the last time mother had hugged him. Probably not since dad had died. He was too surprised to hide the tears that suddenly spilled down his cheeks. He barely heard mother whispering just how much like his father he was, and how proud both were of him. With a final squeeze, they stepped back. aunt Brigid making sure he didn't drop his plate, while mother dried his face. He should feel embarrassed... But it was more emotion than he could remember her ever expressing. She'd only barely survived herself, the day dad died... And much of her emotions were simply gone. But tonight... She now, she was Mom. And it filled him with wonder and joy. He collected himself, and thanked them both. And asked Aunt Brigid to tell Sister Deborah he hadn't meant what he'd said if she happened to see her. Then he went for a walk.

He ate as he went, slowly circling the house and campsite. He realized that every family was now a part of his family... They were all a coven now. That and the walk helped him get back to his usual self and he dumped his now empty plate in a trashcan as Sister Lark began corralling the new witches out towards the campsite. He made sure the latrine was clearly marked. And then set a small kettle of water on the fire to boil. He'd brought tea, and had enough for everyone if they wanted a cup before bed. He nodded to Rowan as she declared that she was fetching more firewood. There was plenty, but maybe she wanted a walk after the party. And he was always looking for more tea, so anything she found would be useful.

Kate asked about ghost stories, as Dakota tried to console Calypso. Uaithne wouldn't mind a few scary tales, but he didn't really have any stories to share himself. So he simply gestured for Kate to tell the first story, as the water came to a boil and he began pouring water into a cup for himself and anyone else who wanted one. He was drinking a honey camomile himself, but he had other flavors and local herbs for the campers to pick from. Some of the selections were mildly stimulating in various ways, and he would offer a soft warning if one such stimulant was selected. Nothing available would cause discomfort or debilitate the consumer. Aside from the warning, Uaithne sat in silence tending the fire and keeping hot water in the kettle as needed.

Interacts with: Kate; Rowan

Mentions: Anyone that wants a cup of hot tea.
Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar

Uaithne dimly heard voices around him, he noticed one had belonged to Sister Deborah. Frowning slightly he tried to piece together what she had said... The words came to him with a bit of effort. If we're up for it? And what about those who weren't up to it? What about the people who would never be up to it?

It would be anger that burned away the fog, some cynical piece of his mind noted. The fog and the perceived chill faded. He scowled at Sister Deborah, she hadn't precisely said to abandon the people who couldn't make their own way back... But it was a plausible deduction. And that hit awfully close to the emptiness Dad's death had caused. It hadn't helped that Mom had never been the same either, always ... Somewhere far away. His tone was caustic, the words dripping venom. And his glare held an intensity not often seen in the eyes of the young, an intent to cause harm.

"I suppose the ones that aren't up for trip back can rot where they lay? It's not like there's a shortage of candidates or anything... "

Uaithne prowled past Sister Deborah barely holding back the sudden fountain of rage, that was probably fueled by the slowly fading effects of the wellspring. He focussed on the path ahead, failing to register anything said to him as his blood pounded in his ears and dim shadows of memories danced through his head.

He would cool down elsewhere, and probably apologize later, but for now he all but ran up the path. Trusting his feet to find sure footing in the dim light. Normally he would be using a simple charm for enhanced low-light vision, but all his tools were back at the house and he was too angry to focus on such a delicate spell properly. Sensory enhancement done wrong... Well, it could leave permanent side effects. He simply moved at brisk walk, a slow enough pace to adjust each step before shifting weight to it for him, thanks to his love of walking through the woods and the well maintained path he walked upon.

His hands clenched and unclenched as he stormed away, breathing deeply more to gain some semblance of control than because of his pace. He stepped around anyone ahead of him, passing in the span of two or three strides, due to his small stature. He made his back to the porch, ditched the robe unceremoniously on the threshold, and began filling his pockets. The familiar motions and weight calming him significantly. And he figured he was going to be in trouble... First night, and he'd already pissed the coven leadership off. Fantastic. Brigid would be cackling as soon as she found out...

Speaks to: Sister Deborah

Mentions: N/A
Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar

Uaithne grumbled at being told to ditch his pack, but he complied. Emptying his pockets took some time... Pocket knives, paracord, lighters, flashlight, extra batteries, hatchet, lamp oil, etc... He had a lot of pockets, and they all held something useful. Finally finished unloading his pockets, he was one of the last to grab a robe from Sister Lark; which he hurriedly tossed over his head. It was ... Reasonably functional.

The trip to the well went smoothly enough, when he saw the blades and cups he swore in Gaelic under his breath. 'A cup of lively tea' Aunt Brigid had cackled... Well she hadn't been wrong. Nor had the information been useful, much to her delight. Uaithne took an end pillow, and watched carefully as Sister Deborah demonstrated the motions required and explained the surprisingly simple ritual. When instructed to being, he quickly dipped his cup and then efficiently slit his wrist, old words mumbled under his breath as he poured his blood into the pool and then mixed it into his cup, using the knife to stir the contents.

"By my blood here spilled; mine flesh and will are thus bound. By life, by death, my gift will serve this well. Spring of life, well forth eternal, and remember my service given gladly."

The words sprang forth unbidden, and Uaithne drank as he finished his whispered oath. The tea was bitter, bloody, and full of power. It hit upon Uaithne as waves upon the shore, he stared unseeing into the depths of the pool... He felt ... Hot with rage boiling over, into bubbling giddiness, falling into weeping sadness, then groaning grief, hope sparked and love blossomed, pain seared... Every wave a new sensation. Some pleasant, some not, all of it was quite disorienting. He was eventually able to get his wits back, and realized that his left wrist was still bleeding. A quick spell, subtle and efficient, stopped the bleeding. He washed his wrist in the wellspring, as his mind slowly recovered from the overwhelming emotions that were merely a side effect of the wellspring's power.

Clearly there was much to learn still. And Uaithne was eager to learn it... His throat felt raw... Had he screamed? He couldn't remember... His cheeks were damp, so he had cried openly... Interesting, that the well should have such a powerful effect ... As a mere symptom. Belatedly, he looked about intending to help anyone he could. He was a coven healer now, these witches were now his responsibility. Not his alone, thank goodness, the weight of it all pressed tangibly on his shoulders and helped finish grounding his emotional imbalance. There were witches to care for. Some had treated themselves and those around them, so he ignored them.

Calypso would need help... Poor girl, the blood alone probably put her in shock nevermind the power of the wellspring. Ah, but she had been seen too... Everyone had been seen to... Even Summer. That realization put a heavy damper on Uaithne's curiosity. He turned back to the dagger and cup, washing them in the wellspring. He set both back on the pillow as he had found them as he rose and turned to wait near one of the elders for the return trip. Perhaps mother was right, it didn't matter how skilled he was if he couldn't react in time. And it was clear that besides Calypso and Summer... He was the only one still feeling the effects of the wellspring. Every wave another little mocking laugh, their slow and steady rhythm making it clear what they were mocking.

Everything he had prepared for tonight... Worthless, time and effort both wasted. All his study and practiced skill... unused and worthless. So much for being prepared, for having an answer ready for any problem that might arise... Can't even pull himself together after a successful binding... He'd probably be dead the first serious fight he fell into. Uaithne kept quiet, but his eyes stared beyond the present. He only dimly heard the world around him, faint murmurs and whispers. He felt cold, and lost, like his world had been enveloped by thick fog.

Speaks to: N/A

Mentions: All
Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar

Thankfully Great Aunt Brigid was quickly distracted by Sister Deborah, though Uaithne payed her opening statements little heed. He moved quickly, quietly, with a feral grin on his face. He found his bag, right where he'd left it. He tuned into Deborah's speech as she mentioned the witches lost. He thought of his dad, though it had been years now. He wondered if dad was watching, as he paused with the coven in a quiet moment of rememberance... Tonight Uaithne would be adding his name to a list, and every night there after... It might join his father's name, and so many others.

Uaithne slipped his pack on, as Sister Deborah continued her speech. He clipping the belt and chest binders and adjusting them until they sat snug. His bag contained mostly medical supplies, including a folding canvas stretcher. It also held the quick release holster for his modern replica production of the Gewehr 98, chambered in the popular 9.3x62 mm. The heavy rifle, nearly ten pounds, was just over 4ft in length which was comically oversized for Uaithne. His pack also held three quivers of twenty arrows for the bow Uaithne held, unstrung. He strapped a fourth quiver, that had been laying next to his pack, to his right thigh for easy access. Satisfied that he was ready, Uaithne moved to the designated starting point. He didn't say anything to anyone, and barely responded if anyone bothered... He was focused on the night ahead now.

The pack was heavy, but Uaithne had been training to carry twice the weight during his recent weekend adventures. He adjusted to the extra weight easily, and moved with confidence as Sister Deborah finished up her speech. He found a comfortable shadow to wait in, and listened to everything and nothing. Not bothering to pick out words, he instead caught tones and inflections... The group seemed to be in good spirits. Uaithne waited, his eyes closed, though smile played at the corners of his mouth still.

Speaks to: N/A

Mentions: N/A
Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar

Uaithne frowned when Maggie said he'd gotten the page wrong. He was sure he'd checked the page numbers before scaring her... Unless he had turned the book to the page he was on in Rothfuss' Wise Man's Fear... He might have done that on accident. Oops. Oh well, it was done now. He hoped down lightly, making remarkably little sound.

"Well, maybe not in so many words. But actions always speak louder than words, and you have been avoiding us since you arrived. Though I do understand preferring books to chatter. But it's initiation day, tonight we're going to be real witches! Doesn't that make you at least a little excited?"

Uaithne walked beside Maggie back towards the tables, he figured he could at least keep the adults from nagging her, or him, by lending the flimsy appearance of having an interesting conversation with another initiate. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do... He gulped as the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up.

That meant Great Aunt Brigid was watching... He hoped she would be enjoying the stronger drinks and wouldn't have extra tasks for him to do during initiation. She was a great aunt, or so the pun went, but her training was... Intense. She was very much a believer in trial by fire... which usually meant a literal magical inferno... Thankfully they were nearing the tables of food and initiates. Hopefully close enough to be safe from sudden conflagration...

Speaks to: Maggie@melissa

Mentions: N/A
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