forum Secret Circle | CLOSED | Witchy Stuffs

Started March 22, 2021 by @EternallyEris

tune

Thought I’d do the same as Elly and get some feedback before I color it https://s3.amazonaws.com/notebook-content-uploads/content/uploads/original/af484b4e-f3ef-4fe0-8ad8-ea5b58855a34.jpeg?1617240613

Ahh I like how Bas actually looks haunted and Judas' body language already says that he is everybody's Sempai.

@EternallyEris noted on the clothes, and @Tired-but-passionate noted on the hair.

Added a sketch of Anjali and Bas to the original link (scroll down) though haven't changed anything about the first pic yet: https://www.notion.so/The-Secret-Circle-RP-21a242303e2b489994ad4962c536a9e5

Awww thank you haha. Anjali and Bas look super cool!

HELL YEAH!!!
I NEED TO DRAW A refrence for Bas, but you've p much got it :)

Rowan looks great too!

The morning was foggy, making the already spooky looking campus look like something out of a Stephen King novel. Amelia shivered within the folds of her overlarge black sweater, glaring up at the imposing buildings and trees that were blocking out the sun. She caught a glimpse of the Blue Lady and paused, wondering what the specter could be up to on the spired roof of Willington Hall. When the female ghost didn't do anything out of the ordinary, just kept looking longingly towards the sea where her once lover had drowned in a rather gruesome freak accident, Amelia shrugged and began walking out the the building once more.

As she turned towards the library building, a strange feeling came over her. The same feeling that had been bugging her incessantly since the beginning of semester a week ago. Like a buzzing underneath Amelia's skin. It wasn't uncomfortable, but warm rather. As if she had taken a shot of scotch and it was sailing through her blood. Honestly, Amelia had never felt this way before and relying on her minuscule seer talent had provided no answers. Sighing into the fog around her, Amelia wondered if she should call her grandmother and ask her about it, as the old woman was the true seer of their family. A chuckle escaped Amelia's black painted lips. There was no way. Her grandmother would talk her ear off for hours before finally getting to the point. Since she didn't sense any immediate danger, the young witch figured that she would be ready for whatever was coming her way.

The massive oak doors of the library eased open on well greased hinges as Amelia walked through, nodding to the front desk student that looked high out of his mind. She made her way up to the third floor and the comfortable nook that she had claimed as her own three years ago when she had first come to the university. It was quiet and cozy. The big leather chairs soft from many years of use. Amelia had spent many hours here and many, many sleepless nights cramming before exams.

Amelia peeked over her shoulder to check if the cost was clear, then removed one of her tight gloves. Popping a free finger into her mouth, she dropped her bag on the table where it jangled suspiciously for a history major. Then using her spit, Amelia quickly drew a glamour rune on each of the bookshelves that framed the seating area, whispering the spell that went along with it in a well practiced rush. Satisfied that the slightly glowing rune would keep out any mortals, Amelia plopped down onto one of the chairs. Out of her bag came her Book of Shadows, a large star chart that was absolutely covered in notes, a few tonic bottles, a small cauldron, a rack of spare herbs and poultices, and a rather normal looking notebook from Target. It was ingenious, her spell to make her bag much bigger on the inside. Amelia could carry a large child in there if she wanted too.

Amelia didn't currently have any actual homework to do, but there was never enough time in the day to study the craft. Opening her Book of Shadows to where she had left off the night before, the young witch took one last look out the window and into the fog, and got to work.

Outside the back of the proscenium theater, the umbrellas blossomed as a light drizzle wafted onto the brick pathways. Anjali called goodbye and waved to the lights technician and the two assistant stage managers before ducking back into the squalid exit hall. There, she unwrapped her hooded mini-trenchcoat from her waist. Within the pocket, she found her phone, pressed the on button, and found three messages from Aunt Matildea—not really her aunt, more like second cousin once removed on the Sassoon side.

Anjali knew that Aunt Tildea was only paying attention to anybody else after a breakup with the latest flame, who was half Aunt Tildea's age at that. She sent a text message of "sorry missed your calls, rough rehearsal today went overtime" which was true, followed by "omw to library, can't talk; dirq hopes u like the show, super talented sophomores, 1 compli tckt 4u" which was also true. Anjali pulled the faux fur lined hood over her head, deliberating between ending on a " :) " and ending on a " <3 ". She went with the former.

With the library on the other side of the vast and sparsely-sheltered campus, the misty drizzle threatening to turn into proper rain, and her coat meant more for warmth than waterproofing, Anjali would usually push for what she'd grown up calling her tee 'n' aitch: short for 'turtle and hare' trick. She'd called it that before they taught her in freshman year that it was 226 on the Perry Index of Aesop's Fables: the hare was so sure to win a footrace with the lowly turtle that they rested right before the finish line, waking only at the moment that the turtle stepped past the resting competitor…

She felt burnt out on it today. That burnt-out feeling would usually go away once things evened out, around the waxing gibbous moon at most. She'd only gotten hiccups during the waning moon twice before, and the anticipation was awful.

Fortunately, she'd taken the route through the forested park on the campus when Aunt Tildea properly called her, and while she tried to move and talk as quickly as possible in case it happened—well, that's when it happened.

The leaves and branches twitched like jumping spiders, the rain splashed right on her head like an ocean wave, the early afternoon light behind the clouds paled and darkened like a window curtain in a storm…

And when it all passed, Aunt Tildea had hung up. Anjali also received a text message, probably ten minutes after it being sent despite Aunt Tildea living in the same city and using the same service provider: "Is slurred speech a symptom of association? Please see a doctor about it, dear. Thoughts and prayers </3 "

So Aunt Tildea wasn't too offended, then.

And the hiccup had happened. It was like a fog had lifted, not literally, but in Anjali's mind. No more pending hiccups.

Clean slate. I can TNH as much as I want to now, she thought, as she continued walking through the misty woods to the library. As much as I please…and so, I won't at all. I won't need to. She told herself this every time she balanced out.

At the library, Anjali shook her jacket dry and wrapped it around her waist again before entering. The librarian at the counter gave her a quiet talk about how she didn't want umbrellas and jackets dripping on the marble floor and especially not the carpet, so Anjali left it on the coat hanger (taking her phone out of the pocket and shutting it off before taking it with her). The librarian, maybe taking pity on Anjali who was rubbing her own arms for warmth, mentioned that there would be some blankets in the cubby-hole shelf near the reading nook on the third floor: very thin, but soft and warm rayon or perhaps even cashmere, and really put there more for display but they were due to be laundered anyway. Anjali could just leave the blanket at the counter before she left the library.

Anjali nodded appreciatively, but also asked to first find out where she could find a copy of the book Search for Authenticity by Regina Bendix, about folklore analysis. Fortunately that, too, would also be in a shelf section on the third floor.

Basalt shut a book they had just finished, setting it off to the side as they used one hand to rub their eyes. They were nestled up in a corner on the third floor of the library, sitting as an old desk in probably the least visited section. The library had an honestly obscene amount of books about golf. It was odd, but as long as it gave Bas a quiet place to study it was fine.

They had an essay on music theory that they had just fact checked, but other than that, they just had some more reading to do and then they were set for the rest of the week. They were-

Oh god, there was another spirit.

It's like Bas was the lantern to the spirit's moths, they kept attracting the ghostly things and the spirits kept attaching themselves to Bas.

Basalt could get rid of them, they had banishing spells that were powerful enough to give them at least a few days of peace… But to be honest, they couldn't bring themselves to. It was a mixture of being tired as fuck and just not having the heart to take away the spirit's main method of conversation.

Rowan had beaten most of the other students being already settled at a quiet table on the third floor. She should be studying for her communications test at the moment, but all the books splayed around her were Latin textbooks. After the mysterious book from her childhood had finally opened up for her, or at least miraculously showed her the text inside, it was all she could focus on. The text inside was latin, and she was now dead set on translating it even garnering an untinetional minor to help with her efforts.

Either way, she was now working feverishly to translate the old book into English using one of her spare notebooks, a nicer one albiet, but a spare none the less. All she could get from the book thus far was the table of contents, listen translating a language she had no idea how to read was difficult.

At the front desk of the library, Judas was returning a couple of books he had taken out as part of his course. Nothing like having to read about the how effects of PTSD can impact every day life, not that he minded though as that was why he had chosen the Psychology course.

As he waited for the front desk student to get a move on with scanning the books’ barcodes, his foot tapped impatiently while he tugged on the sleeve of his macaroon cream blazer, and his eyes wandered around the area with an air of disinterest. Of course there were others around him, it was a library after all, but the general atmosphere caused more than a ticking noise inside his brain. It sounded more like the echoing pendulum of the grandfather clock at the end hallway of his housing establishment. He hadn’t heard such a noise since discovering his magick, and it wasn’t a migraine he had ever wanted to experience again.

The student at the desk cleared their throat, looking up at Judas as if they had been trying to talk to him for the past ten minutes, before Judas finally acknowledged him with a nervous smile. The scanning was done, which meant Judas now just had to find the book he had been meaning to take out last time and leave the library before either the migraine worsened or his hair dried and completely frizzed out.