dorian ♕’s Comments (group member since Nov 28, 2020)

dorian ♕’s comments from the Grimoire’s Return. group.

Marcus raised his brows. “Lovely to see you think so high and mighty of yourself, witch.” He leaned against the counter. “And why would we Venandi need witch magic if we have magic of our own? Non DEMONIC magic? No, we kill you simply because you witches deserve it. Someone needs to rid the earth of the plague you demons are.”

He bit into his strudel, making eye contact with the witch. He noticed a small little animal of sorts hounding by her legs. “What the hell is that?”

Marcus knew she was a witch, but he couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing.

“You-you have a little something right there.” He said, motioning to the corner of his lip. He smiled as Louise handed him his strudel on a napkin. He bit into it.

“You know, it is my JOB to assure you aren’t doing anything wrong. I would be in the right if I apprehended you right now… but your lucky I like a chase.”

Marcus blew through the doors, not paying attention. “Louise! Give me the normal, you kno—“

He paused.

In front of him was a short girl, with dark hair and blue eyes and golden skin.

The witch.

He immediately unsheathed his dagger, and placed it against it against his forearm. “What are you doing here, witch?”

Marcus Aloysius Carnam weaver through the crowds, on his way to get a pastry from his new favorite shop.

Ever.

He may have been in Aenia for a week, but god, he fucking loved it already. The food, the water, the women… everything was perfect. He motioned around a large family of four, his jade green Venandi jacket flaring wide. Most people tended to stay away from him when they saw the jacket in Badeaux, but here, jo one gave a fuck.

It was just another thing in their lives.

Marcus finally made at back to the town square, going into the inn he had been living in for the past week now. He threw a couple gold onto a bar counter, grabbed a beer, and made his way up to his room.

His leg wasn’t broken, it turned out, but instead sprained, so the Medlock recommended he used a cast , so here he was, cast on leg and all.

He locked himself in his room.

Marcus limped forward and watched as the girl disappeared around the bend of a corner.

He was supposed to kill her.

And he didn’t.

Fuck, Pastor Jean would be so mad.

Marcus rubbed at the blood dripping from his nose and turned around. First order of business? He needed to visit a medlock for this damn leg.

Marcus stared after her. His ebony hair was covered in plaster and ash, and his back hurt like a bitch.

He stared at the retreating girl before following her. “I saved your life, you know. Normally most people say thank you for that.”

He walked with a limp a bit. He probably broke something in the explosion. One half of the building remained, so everyone, who was likely in the front, didn’t see them as they casually made their way out of the rubble.

Marcus smiled even wider. He loved a challenge. “Are you threat—“

His words were cut off by the terrorist standing up behind him. The terrorist looked maniacal, with blood streaming from a cut on his eyebrow, and his mouth cut wife into a smile that didn’t suit his face. The terrorist lifted a hand.

Marcus saw what was going to happen before it did.

He looked between the witch and the terrorist before diving for the witch. They fell to the floor, Marcus covering her body, and then the world exploded.

Marcus stepped a bit closer. “Are you sure? Because I know enough to know that your a witch.”

Closer.

He held his dagger out in front of him. “What are you so afraid of, sweetheart? Are you scared? Worried I might HURT you?” Using his other hand, he began to unbutton his coat, as it hotter than he had thought it would be. He wore a simple light brown tunic underneath.

Then he stepped over the terrorist, and he was officially in the no point of return zone. Witches, assuming this girl was a average, normal witch, could normally shoot their power out at people spacing 3-5 feet.

Marcus was 2 feet away from her.

Marcus smiled at her. “I would love to see you try, sweetheart.”

The terrorist laid on the floor in the middle of them. It was a wonder he hadn’t decided to up and bomb the Theater right now, considering no one was in it, but he clearly taken up currently.

Then Marcus looked back at the girl. “Look. I don’t want to hurt you, so I will just take you and we will be on our way. The Venandi give fair trials, I can promise that.”

Marcus should know. He’s been on the jury for most of these trials as of recent.

The crowd around him was rumbling. Screams rent the air, bodies were running towards the exit, and Marcus was to follow, when he sensed it.

Magic.

Class lesson, ladies and gentlemen: Venandi, being witch hunters, were boosted with Angelic Magic. One of the perks of the magi is that they could SENSE others magic.

Which meant there was a witch here.

Marcus pulled a dagger from his side and started back into the theater. The theater was half dark, lights flickering. It actually created quite a creepy scene, though, the witch would be scarier.

Marcus hefted his dagger up, holding it to his forearm.

“Come out, come out, little witch…” He whispered, which echoed in the empty building.

*THE AESTHETIC 🤌🏾❤️*

Marcus looked between the okay and the man. Was the man apart of the play?

What the FUCK was going on??

He watched as the girl on the stage draped herself in the stage-floor and moaned about… witches.

Christ protect him. Marcus stood up and started to walk to the man. He caught a few words- “bomb” and “no” and “rebellion” and it worried him- as he murmured excuse Mrs to the people by him.

Then the man stood yelled suddenly. “In an act of rebellion, I will blow this theater apart.”

Marcus furrowed his brows. One, it wasn’t good to announce your REASONING for committing an act such as this. It just didn’t make sense. Two, the man was drifting a little too close to the stage.

Hmmmm.

The girl could act. That was for sure. Marcus held her stare, not willing to let go… until everyone starting to murmur in front of him. The theater was dark, with only a stage light on the girl on the stage for light.

So faintly, Marcus could see a man standing up closer to the stage, waving his hand around. Marcus tilted his head and sat straighter up.

What the hell…?

Marcus furrowed his brows and straightened in his seat as the theater darkened. What was going on? Why was—

He relaxed as a voice started to speak.

“𝑂𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒. 𝑆ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎 ℎ𝑢𝑠𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑, 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑛, 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑠ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑠𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒.”

Marcus grimaced. He knew where this story would go. It was the origin of Venandism, why the first Venandi became one. Her family was murdered by witches, and thus she made her life dedicated to getting rid of the plague witches were.

Marcus was so intent on the play, he didn’t notice what was going on.

Marcus attention immediately went on the girl on the stage. She seemed to steal the light, focus it all on her.

She was captivating.

Marcus listened to her sing, one eye on her, the other on the crowd to make sure nothing was amiss. Everyone in the Theater was calm for NOW, but for some reason, Marcus felt something was going to go bad somewhere.

You couldn’t just have a normal Theater experience, in Marcus’s case. EVERYTIME he went, something drastic or dramatic had happened. He once went to the Ballerian Theater in Badeux, and witnessed one of the actors break his neck trying to do a simple backflip.

Marcus Carnam sat in the stands. He watched the stage, waiting for the play to start. He was sent here by the head of Venandi, on reports that there was a powerful witch in Aenia.

All of his investigating led him to a Theater.

Why? He didn’t know, but he would figure out.

Marcus sat in simple clothings, all sights of him possibly being an Venandi gone. He wore a tight ivory shirt, that was embroiled with gold threading. His pants matched his shirt, and he pulled the look together with brown boots. His dark curly hair descended over his brow, showing his slitted brow. His brown eyes watched the stage intently.

🥳

IM WAITING ON YOU ITS IN THE THEATER

OKAY OKAY TIME FOR ACE’S STORY

AND SO: DANTE INFERNALIS AND CASPIAN LAMENDOLA DIDNT LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER….











but they did live.












And isn’t that the greatest gift of all?

Dante laughed too. “Of course there’s a good way to be insane. You’re looking right at it.”

Then he raised his brows. “Well, we will probably need food for the treehouse, so… wanna come with me to the town market?”