Grimoire (RP) discussion

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A Park Bench

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message 1: by Liz (new)

Liz  | 5 comments Lounging on an unassuming park bench under an oppressive, overcast sky, a blond-haired, sea-eyed boy scribbles languidly in a notebook. Swirling, vaguely-symmetrical shapes in intricate mandalas trace from the pencil in runes and sigils, an ancient language of runes twisted into galdrastafir—interesting shapes, or powerful spells? The music he listens to attests to the latter: In his ears pulses a drum, like a heartbeat, a fiddle, and a low female voice singing in a long-dead language.
Earbuds lodged in his ears and eyes focused on his spell-art, wind ruffling his hair and storm building on the horizon, Arnhöfði Borrson calmly forms the runes, in a pencil made of ash, that tug at the intertwined strands of Fate….


message 2: by kylee (new)

kylee (don’t invite me to groups please i’m begging) | 0 comments Ophelia was walking along a dirty path, fidgeting with a key on the chain around her neck and clicking her tongue quietly. She was deep in thought, trying to figure out ways to change.... all of this, but Maurice had kept that secret when she died, and now it felt as if Ophelia would never change back.


message 3: by Liz (new)

Liz  | 5 comments From a nearby tree, a large raven takes flight and alights on Arn’s shoulder; in the sunlight, its feathers might appear as though tinted blue, but in the dim grayness, they’re as black as a obsidian. The bird’s sudden presence jolts Arn from his Fate-weaving, and shrugging his shoulder with a knowing smile, sends the bird flying again. Its feathers brush his cheek as it takes off, circling overhead twice, croaking harshly, and landing on the edge of the park bench back rest instead.
“Right on time,” says Arn, putting his pencil aside, but hardly taking the time to fix his eyes on the black-haired, gold-eyed stranger approaching. Her momentum suggests a mission—one that doesn’t include stopping to rest on a park bench with a random white-haired boy. But she will—the staves told him so.
And Munin too, of course, bobbing his head at the girl in a familiar greeting.


message 4: by kylee (new)

kylee (don’t invite me to groups please i’m begging) | 0 comments Ophelia moved her hand away from the key and into one of her pockets, clutching a big black button. Her eyes were focused on the sky, memories glittering behind her eyes.


message 5: by Liz (last edited May 27, 2020 05:44AM) (new)

Liz  | 5 comments Removing his earbuds, Arn watches the girl passively as she reaches into her pocket, eyes focused on the sky. It's a tumultuous sky, clouds swirling in a mass of gray, blue, and black; somewhere far away, the faint flickering glow of lightning illuminates the clouds, followed by a low rumble of thunder. If there are memories behind her eyes, Arn can't see them -- just a girl, tall and thin, in a jacket that nearly swallows her.


message 6: by kylee (new)

kylee (don’t invite me to groups please i’m begging) | 0 comments Ophelia didn’t notice the boy as she started mumbling to herself. “Oh, Maurice, what do I do? How could you leave me alone?” She whispered.


message 7: by Liz (new)

Liz  | 5 comments Arn continues to observe the girl, piercing eyes trained on her lips. His turn into a slight smile, amused, and a little condescending. Is she talking to herself? Regardless, he's curious about the stranger's odd behavior, as if sitting on a park bench underneath a stormcloud-laden sky drawing magical symbols from a long-dead civilization isn't odd.
Well, it isn't -- not if they carry power, not if he has the ability to make them work. So...what's her story, then?
Arn throws a knowing glance at Munin, along with an imperceptible nod of his head, and bird takes flight. With a flutter of its wings, it lands on the girls shoulder, squawking in her ear. Maybe that will catch her attention.


message 8: by kylee (new)

kylee (don’t invite me to groups please i’m begging) | 0 comments Ophelia jumped then smiled at the raven. “Hello!” She raised a hand to pet the top of its head. “Where’d you come from? I don’t recognize you, so you must be new. Or staying for vacation?” She asked the bird, tilting her head slightly. “I have some cool nails if you want one.”


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