August Vignette

[Mordelain]

Vignette will be open until August 31st, midnight. Rules and guidelines available here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25691-Vignette-Rules-amp-Rewards).


You discover there's a witch in the family, past or present.

How does your character react?

[hoytti]

*AN: I have permission to use Korra in any thread.*
*Reference Porite*
http://www.magnetictimes.com.au/images/uploads/big-poritesW.jpg


"Wow, I wondered why I was so good with magic," Sorish said as he looked over his family tree. Him and Korra were sitting in the living room of their house for ten years. It was a beautiful Porite house that they had bought shortly after they hit one-hundred. The entire house was made out of a yellowish color that they both enjoy. They were sitting on Sun Coral Chairs that Sorish had bought five years ago. "Turns out that my great-great-grandmother was a witch."

"Really?" Korra asked as she looked over Sorish's shoulder. "She looks too beautiful to be a witch." It was true, the woman in the painting was beautiful. She had a shallow coral complexion, her crown was cut to be as smooth as possible, and she didn't have a single barnacle on her skin. She was the image of perfect Coralian beauty.

"I know right?" Sorish said as he back to the picture. "Says here that she enticed men into her home before turning them into mindless slaves as long as they stay alive.

"Harsh!" Korra said as she looked back at the picture. "Though, I wouldn't mind having you being my slave." Korra grabbed Sorish round his collar and pulled him away from the album toward the stairs. "I have the perfect outfit for you." She said as she dragged him upstairs.

Sorish chuckled before replying in a monotone voice, "Yes master, I shall obey." Then they disappeared into the bedroom and locked the door.

[Muir]

(I've wanted to write this scene for a while! Good excuse to get it down. For anyone who knows the characters, this is the first time they sit down together after The Wandering Isle.)



"Are you drinking that, or what?" Muir gestured toward the crystal tumbler sitting before his sister, yet untouched.

Luned shook her head and slid it across the polished tabletop toward him. "No." The clear, amber liquid sparkled in the lamplight, as beautiful as its contents bitter. She braced her chin in her hand, gaze cast unseeing at the stone wall behind him. The dungeon-like library rarely felt like an actual prison, but from her restraint, Muir couldn't help but wonder if that's what the place had become since she inherited it.

"I thought our reunion would be happier," he sighed before downing the scotch in one gluttonous draught. He cleared his throat. "In the end, we all made it back to Radasanth in one piece, albeit separately. Fucking miracle, that. It deserves celebration." His nose crinkled in playful dismay. "Don't tell me you're mopey over that man of yours––"

Luned's brow furrowed, energy returning to the conversation as her wide eyes snapped to his smug face. "No! What made you think that?"

Muir chortled, tipping precariously in his chair. "I know what it's like, being apart from someone you love. It's distracting at best, debilitating at worst. It's a fucking drag, that's what. But you've got to get on with your life, keep your shit together."

The girl rolled her eyes and rubbed facetiously at her temple. "Where on Althanas is this sudden heartfelt, brotherly advice coming from?"

In a rare moment of true affinity, the young man leaned forward to capture his sibling's gaze. Locked in eye contact, earthy green calmed stormy blue. "We all almost died out there, Lune. Some of us did, and maybe some of us should have stayed that way. But we're here, and we're alive, so wipe that pitiful fucking look off your miserable fucking face and get hammered with your favorite brother." With that, he slammed a full glass with a forceful crack onto the table before her.

"Fine." Luned lifted it to her lips, sipped, and grimaced. "Ugh, it's awful," she complained, then drained the rest in compliance. No sooner than the vessel met the table again, Muir refilled it, but she didn't protest.

"Now, tell me what the hell's wrong with you," Muir commanded, taking a sip of his own. He wiped his tan, freckled arm across his mouth and watched expectantly for her answer.

She frowned. "Well, it's not like we can't see each other… we're lucky for that. But why does it have to be Salvar?" The tone of her lament hinted at the profound depths of dread she had for that region, felt from the tips of her toes to the hair on her head.

Muir quirked a skeptical eyebrow. "What about Salvar?"

Luned pursed her lips for a long moment, deliberating, then polished off her beverage as if it might give her strength to speak. "It's not like I can just follow him there anyways," she reasoned. "He has his work. I'd get in the way." She glanced up from her empty glass as if seeking validation or sympathy. Instead, her brother tossed her an impatient glare, staring her down until the uncomfortable silence inspired her to elaborate further. "Fine," she finally relented, crossing her arms over her chest as she shrank back against her chair. "It's a harsh place, and it changed me into a person I still barely recognize sometimes. There are some good memories, some that make it all worth it." Her face pinched with disgust. "But still, in the end, they're just a handful of diamonds sparkling atop a massive heap of steaming… are you laughing? Oh, come on!"

"Sorry," Muir hid his smirk behind his hand. "It's just this irrational fear of an entire country for what, a spell of bad luck? Such hysterics don't become you, big sister."

Frowning, Luned tightened her arms around herself. "There are posters with my face on them, Muir, offering money for my life. I'm guilty of murder and witchcraft––"

"Oh no, it can't be true!" Muir shouted, raising his hands in feigned disbelief. "My very own blood, a witch? The horror of it all. Truly. Just awful." His theatrics petered out into a deadpan stare. "I'm so disappointed in you."

He'd worked his magic and, as reluctant as she was to do it, Luned laughed. "Why do you always have to do this? You get me to confide in you, and then you turn it all into a big joke."

The young man shrugged. "It's not a joke, Lune, it's your life. Don't waste it worrying about stupid shit. Now, drink."

[Morkotar]

The song was uplifting as it was heartbreaking, an endless swirl of perfect two-part harmony. The singers stood shoulder to shoulder on the dais, golden blonde hair cascading past pointed ears and down delicate backs, sapphire eyes shining in a trancelike state as their lips moved in perfect unison. They sang an Aria of wellness, the bright healing notes swelling throughout the cathedral, rising past rows of benches carved like the wings of angels, resounding off a canopy of celestial bodies. Two hundred or more elves of high Raiaeran lineage sat those long benches enjoyed the performance, some nodding and smiling, others listening with closed eyes and syncing lips, or weeping openly.

Aullos Morkotar knew his history well, particularly the subject of song magic. The twins on the platform below were expected to become two of the most powerful Singers Athanas had seen in thousands of years. Their voices would move mountains and heal nations, or so many said. To the rest of the nation, the identical girls were linditari - great prodigy singers. They represented hope and a resurgence of the Song Magic which had carved Raiaera out as Althanas' most powerful nation. To Aullos Morkotar they would always just be his baby sisters.

The song ended in a sustained harmony of thirds, the sound like a poultice for the mind. Tanatta and Tamuenna could have assuaged a jilted love with that note, or calmed a grieving parent. Applause washed the stadium as the young performers curtsied gracefully and joined hands, and then vanished in a puff of purple smoke. As the crowd shuffled and murmured, leafing through programmes and sipping crystalline flutes of wine, the brother of the linditari rose and ducked out the nearest exit.

Aullos knew the bowels of the building, and made his way down a sloped servants' corridor. He had performed here numerous times himself, but never before such an appreciative or noteworthy audience. It wasn't fair, truly, to think that after so many years of dedication to his art, his sisters would turn ten and instantly become better, more renowned singers than he.

"Curse their lungs, it isn't fair!" He swung his torso about suddenly, an involuntary spasm of rage, smashing a fine-boned fist into a drapery depicting ancient elves dealing with the lost Durklan tribes for land. "Arrgh!" Although the drape was thick and soft, the unyielding stone wall was not. Rubbing his knuckles, Aullos continued down the hall until he found a polished silver plaque which could serve as a looking glass.

Hunched over and gazing into his own reflection, the young elf forced himself to study his own deep blue eyes until they showed no sign of the envy and anger in his heart. He knew his parents would be backstage with the twins, congratulating them, waiting on him so they could go out and celebrate as a family. And I will not ruin it for them, he told himself as he squared narrow shoulders and paced down the hall, lucky little witches.

[Breaker]

"This tea smells of psilocybin," Joshua Cronen commented mildly. His nostrils flared and enveloped a floating tendril of steam. He licked his lips, and took a sip.

"I presume that is not a problem?" The psychic flexed long fingered hands over her glowing crystal ball. Her painted fingernails sparkled in the muted light from coal braziers, and she plucked a deck of cards from inside the long sleeve of her purple satin gown as if from nowehere.

Cronen noted the smooth sleight of hand and swallowed another mouthful of tea. She'd spiced it with a concoction of turmeric and nutmeg and others he couldn't name. But shrooms were shrooms. "Only problem is," he said, placing his teacup atop the first tarot card she dealt. The Warrior. "you'd need several pots of this stuff for it to work on me."

"Oh?" She dealt eleven more cards around the base of the crystal ball, forming a clock face with the warrior at midnight. "Were you raised on the Mother's Tea of Truth?" She bent over the thickly draped table, trails of incense smoke swatching her neck and face as she examined each card and then returned to the crystal ball. The way she gazed into it suggested she knew just how much gold Cronen carried around with him.

"No, I just run a little hotter than the rest of you." Josh found his gaze sliding from the endless mist in the ball to the sweat on the side of her neck. It was the only part of her skin visible behind layers of elegant clothing and artfully applied makeup. "Just wanted to let you know, in case getting your clients high is an integral part of conning them." He'd seen enough. Rumors that this particular woman could truly see the future were numerous, and he'd been a little lost for purpose of late. But this was ridiculous. "Thanks for the tea," he said as he began to rise.

"Sit." Her voice somehow pulled him back into place. Her face contorted through shock, denial, acceptance and thrill in the space of seconds. But her eyes never left whatever only she could see in the depths of swirling mist. "I have seen much of your future. A birthroom, a daughter who will bring the world to its knees." Still enraptured, she removed her headress and long fake eyelashes absentmindedly. "A psychic of unmatched power." She whispered a spell that scoured the makeup from her face.

Josh barely managed to keep his jaw from crashing through the table. She'd had a certain allure since he walked into the tent, but he'd not been able to see or smell her due to the theatrics. She was as attractive a woman as he'd ever seen, with a curve to her lips and a light in her eye.

"Are you saying my first child is going to be a witch?" He asked, trying to sound disbelieving. The tone broke slightly as she leaned forward, finally looking past the crystal at him. The more of her skin that showed, the more he felt pulled... she was tanned and supple and moist with sweat. Beneath those robes, it must be like a sauna.

"No..." She splayed both hands on the table and leaned further in. "I am saying our first child will be a witch."

Josh was feeling slightly foggy, and enamored with her. Then he realized his right hand had swept the table aside in a cacophony of breaking crystal, whilst his left seized the collar of her robes and pulled.

If her robes tear away from her body, PM me with the word "skin" in the title. If the robes hold and Josh pulls her into his arms, PM me with the word "solace" in the title. If you don't care, don't PM me :P

[Mordelain]

Muir receives 200 experience and 200 gold.

Use of topic: Clever background allusion to the vignette subject. Raised intrigue, because Luned seems so nice, too nice for murder.
Creativity: You avoided social stereotypes and conventional techniques, and the left field attempt paid off.
Mechanics: Near flawless observance of mechanics, though be wary of heavy dialogue; can make narrative off-tempo.
Sensible: No obscurities or madness.



Morkotar receives 100 experience and 150 gold for second.

Use of topic: Utilised the brief, though conventional plot in an unconventional setting.
Creativity: Interesting take on 'witch', and good drawing from canon and lexical terms.
Mechanics: Near flawless observance.
Sensible: Perfectly. And in keeping with the character's history and profile.


Numbers receives 650 experience.

Use of topic: Strong development in a small post, and drew on the more seductive and malefic aspects of literary witches.
Creativity: You turned stereotypes on their head, and channeled Morrigan of Dragon Age to boot.
Mechanics: Minor errors in and around dialogue, capitalisation issues mainly, but otherwise polished.
Sensible: Sensible, though do write on!


Hoytti receives 150 experience.

Use of topic: Conventional application of the brief, though the sexual allusion was unexpected and worked.
Creativity: Let down by the diver in the visual prompt. Though pictures are acceptable, avoid any overly familiar items that may disjoint the reader.
Mechanics: Hefty amount of proofreading required for basic formatting and punctuation, easily amended in time!
Sensible: No obscurities or madness.

Experience and gold added.