#RuinedLambToTheSlaughter

[blacksheepmikaelson]

Bothering By The Bayou || Kol & Hayley

When: The Time of Davina’s Death Where: The Bayou With: Hayley @lcstwxlf

Loitering around the Bayou was fast becoming one of Kol’s favourite pastimes because every evening he was almost guaranteed to have someone come about sooner or later and he would be treated to a little company that he could proceed to irritate until they ran away. He so enjoyed providing everyone and anyone with his particular brand of wit; it was also much safer not to look too much deeper into why he sought out people this way as often as he did. But given the chaos of the city his little proclivities were pushing already stressed people right up to the edge and that was wonderfully entertaining.

Speaking of, it seemed there was a wolf in the swamp, how delightful. Guessing he’d be noticed soon enough Kol remained seated on the thick tree branch quite high up like a darker version of Peter Pan and once the wolf came into view and her eyes met his a slow smirk crept onto his face. “A little wolf came wondering into the glade where Mr. Bat sat watching with care.” his voice taking on the rhythm of a storyteller before trailing off to a chuckle. “Hello there Darling; what’s a little cub like you doing in a big bad place like this?” 

[bennctwitch]

Bad News Bears | B&K

The scratch of a pen to a sales order slip competed with the crinkle of a paper bag being shaken into usefulness. Bonnie watched the customer sign their name on the bottom of the receipt as she placed the amethyst pendulum into the bag, as well as some fat, white candles, and an assortment of dried herbs. One of these days she was going to have to talk to someone about getting Ida Mae’s caught up with the times. A tablet and emailable receipts were not only more convenient for all parties, but environmentally conscious to boot. 

 Once the customer had signed their life away, Bonnie traded them their goods for the signed sales bill. The bottom copy went to the patron with a smile and a cheerful, “Have a great day.” Their wave was returned and she leaned over the counter to watch them leave. 

 Sleigh bells chimed from the hydraulic arm as the door opened and the customer stepped out into the thoroughfare outside Ida Mae’s. Once it shut again, Bonnie rounded the counter and scampered over to the table near the back of the occult shop. “How’re we doin’, Kiki?” she asked with a grin, dropping into the chair across from the raven haired beauty seated at the table.

 Though they’d bumped into each other plenty of times at NOU, the tie that connected them best was --surprisingly-- Scott McCall. As far as werewolves went, she was closer to either of the Hales, and maybe even Hayley, than she was with Scott. But he and Stiles were the Turk and J.D. of NOU, and she and Stiles were… talking? Add Kira being friendly with Scott to the mix and, vualá, squad goals hashtag trends once more.

 Kira was sweet. A little artless in some areas, but smart as heck and maybe a little too compassionate for her own good. Her presence in Ida Mae’s was at Bonnie’s invitation. Elena said she was going to drop in on Alaric after classes, Caroline was Spirits knew where doing Spirits knew what, and Bonnie had needed help rifling through historical records. That, and she genuinely enjoyed Kira’s company. So, two birds, one stone. Luckily, today was one of those days with not a lot of foot traffic through the occult shop slash bookstore. 

 Grabbing her own pile of papers, Bonnie scanned through the information, muttering the reminder, “So we’re looking for unexplained natural disasters over the last hundred years. Localized earthquakes, sudden electrical storms, wildfires, animal deaths by the dozen, that kind of thing. When the magic in an area is wonky your first and last warning sign is nature.” And the magic in New Orleans was the textbook definition of wonky. All its synonyms, too.

 Marcel had stated that this kind of thing had happened before. If Bonnie could figure out when she could also figure out why, and if she knew why she’d know how she’d be best able to protect her friends.

 Not finding anything interesting on the first page, Bonnie moved it to the back of her pile and started reading the fresh page. She didn’t make it far before a force so powerful crashed into her like a tsunami. It felt like she a hurricane in a bottle, overly full with cataclysmic power, unable to contain the energy that didn’t wash over her, but bulldozed through her; a stampeding herd of elephants bottlenecked with nothing but her to block their path. 

 A pained shout burst out of her. It blackened her vision and the world around her. Bonnie had a brief sense of falling out of her seat but was too caught up cradling her head to care that she’d collapsed. Curled into a ball, face hidden behind her hair, Bonnie cried out as unspeakable power crashed into her, flowed through her, then poured out of her again.

@kitsunexkira

[ruined-rp]

EVENT 002 // YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW

D, where are you? I’m worried. Text me back.

There was a pit in his gut as his thumb came down on the little arrow that would send one more text to go unanswered. He wouldn’t call that pit foreboding. Calling it that meant acknowledging the possibility that Davina was… 

She was fine. Agitated as hell, probably, but somewhere safe and ignoring his calls to make a point. He knew she was starting to get antsy being cooped up in the attic for so long, but she’d understood. It was for her safety. If the witches got their hands on her they’d try to complete The Harvest. They’d kill her. Keeping her hidden was how he protected her. She knew that. 

Yet when he’d gone to the church to check in on her she wasn’t there. Young witch like Davina, her sneaking out wasn’t entirely unexpected. Expecting her to come back, he’d taken a seat and prepared a speech on why she couldn’t be wandering out in the open. Someone would see her. Take her. Hurt her. When his first text didn’t get a reply he’d given her a call. When his call went to voicemail Marcel had started to sweat. 

The order to his guys went wide: find Davina; discreetly. If she’d snuck out he didn’t want word to spread that he didn’t know where she was. She was his responsibility, his to protect, he’d promised her and he had no intention of letting her down now. 

It was the compilation of unanswered texts and calls, of shrugged shoulders and muttered, ‘Sorry, Boss, no one’s seen her’ that brought him to the Bayou’s muggy heat. His BMW i8 was left on the dirt road behind him as Marcel stepped into the trees. If his feet were moving as fast as his metaphorical heartbeat he doubted even his vamp speed could keep up. Nerves coiled tight in his gut and dread wrapped cold fingers around his throat. Even hurtling at his ribs so hard he was half worried it’d break one, he knew in his heart that he’d find Davina out here. 

“Marcel.”

A familiar grated voice refocused him on the world around. Marcel looked up, nodding a greeting at the Alpha as Derek stepped out from behind the trees. His phone slid back into his jacket pocket, his texts unread, his calls unreturned. 

“Find anything?” he asked instead of wasting time with pleasantries. Derek knew why he was here. He’d sworn to help. It was time to make good on that promise. Lifting his arm as the wolf stopped in front of him, they bumped forearms and Marcel studied Derek’s face as he waited for an answer. 

A curt nod from Derek was followed by wary, “A scent. I tried to track it but I’ve been running in circles.” Before Marcel could process what that meant a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “If she’s still out here, we’ll find her.” 

Moving his gaze from Derek onto the trees surrounding them, the quiet of Marcel’s voice vibrated with confidence when he muttered, “She’s out here.” He glanced back at the Alpha beside him and nodded. “Take me to where you picked up her scent. We’ll start there.”

Derek’s hand dropped from his shoulder and they both strode through the Bayou. It was a short walk to their starting point and from there, the trek was silent. Tension smouldered in his chest the longer their search went on, burning like an ember at first but when minutes dragged on it was an inferno. It radiated off of him with a heat he knew that Derek could feel. Knew and didn’t give a damn because Davina was out here and he needed to find her. He needed to see her, hold her, look into those big round eyes and see for himself that she was safe. 

It had to be over an hour that they were out there, navigating the bayou by scent. How long exactly he didn’t know, couldn’t bear to take his mind from tracking Davina to check his phone. But, eventually, Derek perked up, his strides slowing as he angled his face up and breathed. 

“Tell me you’ve got something, D.”

He nodded sharply, eyes and expression hard, guarded as he grumbled, “This way,” with a motion for Marcel to follow him. 

Their pace was faster now. If Marcel didn’t need Derek to guide the way he would have left him between the trees and ran ahead, full speed toward Davina. Each second was torture, unforgivingly infinite. The handful that passed may as well have been hours of travel. His chest and lungs and gut felt like they’d run a marathon by the time they neared a clearing. He smelled her then, the flowery scent of her shampoo, of her charcoals and acrylics, and the smell of...

“Marcel…”

Blood. That was blood. Marcel left Derek in the trees and raced through the clearing. Once past the last row of trees his strides slowed, his breath hitched, his brow furrowed. Several blinks and his mind still couldn’t process the sight before him. It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. 

“Davina?”

At the center of the clearing was the stump of a once great tree, the diameter meters long, the roots more ancient than any other tree in the bayou. Laid across it was a tiny figure in a familiar sundress, the cotton soaked with blood. Her skin was pale, colorless. Her lips were blue. Dark hair spread around her head, a halo of mahogany that would have been soft as silk if it wasn’t clumped by the crimson seeping into the Nemeton. With her eyes shut, one hand draped over her middle, the other laying beside her, palm up, she almost looked like she was sleeping peacefully. Like she’d laid down for a nap and just lost track of the time.

Almost. 

If her throat wasn’t slashed wide he might have let himself believe it. “Davina.” Her name was grated rocksalt, it ground out of him, jagged and broken, before Marcel ran the yards between them and lifted a knee onto the Nemeton. 

A hand slipped under her neck to hold her by the nape. Hovering close, the sob he felt building in his chest broke loose. “D, I’m sorry.” There was a scream in his ribcage that he couldn’t let loose, that he pushed down as he hunched over Davina and tapped his forehead to hers. The congealed blood pooled around her was staining his clothes, his hands, her jaw and cheek as he pulled her closer. “I was figuring out another way, D. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

Tears fell from his lashes onto her face and he moved his brow from hers to hug her cold, stiff body to his chest. He’d made her a promise, and he’d failed her. The scream he’d been fighting exploded from his chest. Birds rustled from their branches and the breeze shifted. The world kept spinning even as it crashed down around him. 

He didn’t know how long they sat there like that, her hugged to his chest, arms hanging limp, body cold as ice now no matter how closely he held her. It was only when Derek spoke into his heartbreak that Marcel remembered the Alpha was still there. 

“We have to take her to Jennifer,” he said, snapping Marcel’s attention onto him with a spark of something too unstable to call hope. Blue eyes moving from the tiny witch in his arms, soaking his skin and his clothes with blood, onto Marcel, Derek explained, “She can tell us what happened. If there’s a way to bring her back maybe she’ll know.”

That unstable thing inside his chest screamed louder than logic or reason. It was desperation, and it was deafening. Marcel hooked his arm under Davina’s knees and scooped her up into his arms with ease. He marched toward the treeline, not sparing Derek a sideways glance as he passed him. “Let’s go,” grumbled Marcel, clutching Davina tight, refusing to let her go. 

He’d promised her he’d keep her safe, that he’d find another way to make this right. He’d failed in keeping the first half of that promise, but he’d be damned if he didn’t make this right...

[ofelenagilberts]

Coming and Going || Elena & Alaric

@venandi

Elena was exhausted. She was running on coffee and something like an hour and a half of sleep. The nightmares she had been having since her parents death had come back last night in a rush, drowning her even after they had woken her up. She thought that perhaps they had come back to haunt her after a few weeks of quiet because her thoughts had drifted back to the regret of dragging her friends here, of plunging them into this world that she didn’t understand and that scared her. Elena had been beating herself up and thinking about Mystic Falls and so it was probably no surprise that her dreams were going as backwards as her thoughts. Regardless, she pushed on with her day. She finished her shift and then found herself in the back of the library, with her nose stuck in her books.

Unable to concentrate, Elena eventually pulled herself upright, dropping her empty coffee cup in the bin as she passed, slinging her bag up onto her shoulder as she pushed her way through the door. Instead of doing what she planned and heading back home to try and pass out for a little longer, Elena found her feet taking her in the opposite direction, up the stairs and down the corridor. She dragged her feet and listened to her footsteps echoing through the empty hall, as she made her way towards Alaric Saltzman’s office.

[ruined-rp]

EVENT 002 // YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW

Jennifer hadn’t slept all evening. The weight of her actions that night lay upon her like a stone and she’d been sat at her sofa with her head in her hands too exhausted to do anything yet too tired to actually sleep. There was a sharp knock upon her door that jolted her from her thoughts and she slowly rose, opening the door to reveal Derek and Marcel… holding the dead girl in his arms she’d killed hours before. Old Instinct kicked in as though she’d never stopped, the fear of getting caught kicked her heart up enough to hide any lies, “Good God-” she’d barely breathed out, wide eyes resting on Davina’s limp form as Marcel quickly spoke.

“Fix her! You can do it! You have to, y-you killed alpha’s you can do it you have to!”

They may have been orders but were little more than broken pleas and Jennifer swallowed, her eyes darting over to Derek’s stoic form before stepping back, “Bring her inside.” The pair darted in and she closed the door behind her, pulling the curtains to hide the dawn light and looking back, “Clear the coffee table, lay her down.” She ordered, moving into the kitchen to grab some supplies. She didn’t look back and when Derek’s deep voice broke the silence of the room she jolted lightly.

“Can you?”

The simple question Marcel lacked the hope to ask. It was enough to give her pause and she looked back, candles held to her breast with one arm and a basket of herbs in another. She looked into his eyes, once so familiar now changed yet still looking to her to provide answers.

“Life was never something I gave.” She whispered back, taking care where she needn’t have bothered, Marcel too busy whispering sweet nothings to the corpse laid out on her table.

“Do it.”

Two words which held faith, however badly delivered, that this was something she could do… Something she should do. The Nemeton had called for her but the death had been pure, she’d ensured it. The Stump had feasted and if she returned now? It would be on Jennifer’s power alone; power the Darach knew she didn’t have. She’d chosen a path of death. Life was not hers to give in any way… not anymore.

“Wait in here. Both of you.”

She refused to meet Derek’s eyes as she moved back into her living room, pulling her sofa back for more space while Derek coerced and unwilling Marcel into the kitchen and closed the door behind them.

In a ritual eerily similar to her actions hours before Jennifer lay out candles and lit them before moving to the body of Davina and stripping her naked. She moved to her bathroom and filled a large bowl with water, gathering several more before returning, kneeling next to the corpse and with slow, deliberate motions she wet a cloth and brought it to the severed throat, pressing hard and pulling back she began to wipe the skin clean. It was hard work. Gruesome. The clear water ran an ugly pink in moments as she cleansed the wound till it sat grotesquely bare, sinew and veins empty and on display.

It was merely a beginning though. She emptied and refilled the bowl, putting a few drops of oils and some herbs into the mixture before using a new cloth to wipe down Davina’s body, rinsing out her hair, clumped thick with blood, down her body to her fingers and feet, leaving her pristine, blessed, new. She disposed of the water and mumbled archaic words under her breath she took a pair of small sowing scissors and cut loose ends of the young witches hair gathering the locks in her palm she set them in a small clay bowl with twigs, more herbs and set it alight; it burned unnaturally fast, a pinkish hue to the flame. It wasn’t enough. She continued in her cleansing, clipping nails, both hand and foot and sprinkling them into the flames. Jennifer lifted the clay bowl, uncaring of the heat and placed it beside her head.

A flame to guide.

She returned to her bedroom one last time and moved to her wardrobe, pulling an old, silk blanket of blood-red. There was magic in the cloth, it had belonged to a druid who died long ago, killed with her coven for a alpha’s greed. A connection to a people she’d long since forsaken. Her only hope to beg back what she’d cast out.

Jennifer placed the silken cloth reverently over Davina’s naked form, covering her from neck to foot, only her head and the small pinkish flame that burned beside it on displace. Jennifer swallowed and gazed down upon the body, the faintest of twitches to her lips as her words to Derek echoed in her mind:

‘Life was never something I gave.’        

Her hands reached forward, a fine tremble to them as they rested lightly upon Davina’s unmoving breast. The candles had burned down, the room black save for the pinkish flame from the clay bowl. Jennifer took in a shaky breath.

Gofynnaf i'r Hynafiaid ddisgleirio eu goleuni, ac arwain enaid allan o'r tywyllwch. Erfyniaf ar yr Hynafiaid i rannu eu tân, a chynnau cannwyll sydd wedi mynd allan. O dywyllwch, goleuni. O ludw, tân. O farwolaeth, bywyd.

The words of Ancient Welsh made the room heavy, just as in the bayou all seemed to pause, no hum from electical appliances, no sound from the outside world. Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Jennifer took another shaky breath.

Gofynnaf i'r Hynafiaid ddisgleirio eu goleuni, ac arwain enaid allan o'r tywyllwch. Erfyniaf ar yr Hynafiaid i rannu eu tân, a chynnau cannwyll sydd wedi mynd allan. O dywyllwch, goleuni. O ludw, tân. O farwolaeth, bywyd. 

No change. The body remained empty. The world remained still.

Jennifer’s lip trembled, her eyes misted slightly and she closed them, a single tear running down her cheek. A scarred, mutilated thing just like the rest of her. Jennifer’s eyes opened and there was no beautiful woman, merely a ripped apart body pulled together beyond what should be possible, taunt skin still pink and unhealed flickered garishly in the fire’s light.

“Please.” The word barely legible through a ripped apart mouth, spittle dripping down a skinless jaw, a single tear mixed within.

Gofynnaf i'r Hynafiaid ddisgleirio eu goleuni, ac arwain enaid allan o'r tywyllwch. Erfyniaf ar yr Hynafiaid i rannu eu tân, a chynnau cannwyll sydd wedi mynd allan. O dywyllwch, goleuni. O ludw, tân. O farwolaeth, bywyd. 

The flame blew out.

Darkness.

Jennifer was motionless.

Davina was the same.

The door to Jennifer’s kitchen opened and a once again beautiful woman stepped inside, her expression enough to denote her failure. Derek closed his eyes and Marcel’s head went into his hands. No one spoke, there were no words to say.

Then a fierce gasp for air sounded from the dark living room.

Jennifer remained frozen while the men’s eyes went wide. Marcel didn’t hesitate and ran into the room so swiftly he was but a blur. Derek ran moments after, flipping the lights on as he went. Jennifer took longer still but eventually turned and walked back into her living room.

Marcel clung to the reanimated Davina, saying all he’d been unable to since seeing her last while Derek hung back, not wanting to interfere. The young witches head turned back, her eyes finding Jennifer, the wide look in them enough to mean, ‘How?’

Jennifer’s expression of shock was much the same, she barely moved her head but the shake enough to answer. She didn’t know. But life had reigned. Life within her walls. She had given life.

Her first life.  

Written by: @jenniferblake for @ruined-rp

[ruined-rp]

EVENT 002 // YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW

She has known destruction and chaos, has lived through war and famine, has lived at the mercy of those who inhabit her and still- she has survived… but now, New Orleans is a town on the precipice of shattering. The Nemeton’s power has grown more unstable with each passing day and Davina Claire, the witch who bore the power of her fallen sisters, equally so. Her death was the only way to complete the ritual and appease the Ancestors, the powers that be who rule the land from afar.

Feeling a shift in the city, Marcel Gerard rushed to the church in search of his witch- only to find the attic empty and Davina, missing. He called Derek Hale, recruiting him in his search. Before long, the witch’s body was found, draped and bloodied across the Nemeton. The boys knew why she was there- what she had done… though not how she had gotten there. It requires an elder of extreme power to perform a ritual like that, all of which were long since slaughtered. It was Derek’s suggestion to seek out Jennifer Blake, the only one who could provide them with the answers they needed. Marcel carried her lifeless form to the Druid’s apartment, desperately hoping for any way to bring her back to him…

Bonnie Bennett was working a shift at Ida Mae’s when the change hit. A ripple of power tearing through the city, bringing the Bennett Witch to her knees. Kira Yukimura happened to be in the shop, hanging out with her newest friend when the witch fell. Rushing to her side, she stayed with her until the wave passed. Confused and isolated, the pair knuckle down on what the hell is going on, trying to get some answers out of the resources available in the shop. 

Cora Hale and Braeden Aldaine were having lunch at the time, Cafe Du Monde wasn’t their standard go-to but Braeden loved the architecture and Cora loved the company so it was a win-win situation. Stiles Stilinski happened to be walking past when he spotted the women, plonking unceremoniously into a spare chair at their table when Cora’s phone sounded off, a text message from her brother carrying the news.

Unfailingly buried up to his ears in work, Alaric Saltzman was in the middle of digging to the surface of his desk when Elena Gilbert sought him out, looking for advice on their current state of affairs. What should have been a pleasant exchange was darkened by the buzzing of both their phones. Texts and calls carrying the news. 

Kol Mikaelson was the unwanted visitor that no one seemed to be able to shake, especially not Hayley Labonair. She had found the vampire exploring the Bayou at the time of Davina’s death, though the news had not yet reached her. The alpha wolf hadn’t checked her phone whilst in conversation with the vampire, needing to learn more about the Original, his plans for her beloved town and why he was here. It’s not until the end that she feels the buzz, cutting their union short and leaving her in search of Derek.

A Missive From The Main

You are invited to post starters - located wherever your character may be. All threads must relate back to your prompt above. Characters are welcome to post threads beyond that of their tagged scenario so long as the priority the scene above. The Event will last for a week. Beginning Friday the 4th of October AEST and ending Friday the 11th AEST. All starters and posts around the event are to be tagged with #RuinedStarter, #RuinedEvent & #RuinedLambToTheSlaughter

[ruined-rp]

EVENT 002 // YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW

“You have one chance left to back out of this.”

Jennifer’s words hung heavy in the air as she stared down Davina, the young witch, the missing harvest girl, the weight tipping the balance towards chaos. If this girl had died when her coven decreed it she’d not have been called back. It all came down to that really… One vampire’s foolish actions put the city on the precipice of disaster; now, one witch’s brave decision could put it to rights.

She’d not sought her out, Davina had come to her. The witch told her plainly who she was, what she represented and rather than threaten her to keep away, as she’d expected, she’d been asked to participate in sacrifice, one last time.

Davina wished to die to complete the harvest.

No matter what anyone would say, Jennifer took no pleasure in sacrifice. It was a necessary evil to keep worse evils at bay; sacred rights to deities beyond their power of comprehension. Knowing the consequences of refusal, Jennifer had gazed at the girl forlornly for a few moments before quietly moving to her bedroom; hidden at the back of her closet were tools she’d hoped to never have need for again yet… Fate had decreed that not be so.

Their journey to the Nemeton had been quiet, neither needing to speak, nor guide the other, it was calling to them and Jennifer knew Davina would feel it as keenly as she did. It knew her, but it wanted Davina. It wasn’t until the two came upon the wizened stump that she spoke those words and a heaviness settled.

Davina was brave though, there was no hesitation before a quiet ‘No.’ was spoken and Jennifer nodded.

“Then no time to waste.”

With an almost detached, clinical efficiency Jennifer set up the space. She lit candles, muttered old arcane words around the space, and lay her hands upon the Nemeton. Her words soft, cooing, almost as though soothing a child while she gently rubbed the wood. There was not a sound around them, water held still, not a single cricket chirped, the silence of magic was all that could be felt, heard, and seen. This chanting continued for longer, almost an hour had passed before Jennifer slowly raised her head, eyes shining with an unnatural light as she fixed her gaze on Davina.

“It’s time.”

She held a hand out and the other witch came slowly forward, her hand only trembling slightly as she placed it in the older witch’s.

‘Will it hurt?’

A whispered question, an unspoken fear everyone from vampire to human would ask.

“No.” her voice just as soft, as she cupped Davina’s cheek, “It is just like falling asleep. Then you’ll be home.”

Davina smiled at her words.

“Thank-”

She never had time to finished as Jennifer’s blade sliced deep into her throat.

Blood gushed freely from the fatal cut and fell thick and warm upon the Nemeton. Jennifer gently caught the dying girl and soothed her with the same words spoken before, laying her down atop the stump and stroking her hair till feeble twitches ceased and she was still, eyes gazing up at the stars.

Jennifer bent at the knee and continued to quietly chant longer into the night. It wasn’t until the last candle burned down and the sun broke the horizon that life returned to the bayou.

Water lapped, crickets chirped and a raven cawed.

Rising to her feet, the burdened witch gently closed the glassy eyes of Davina Claire. The missing Harvest Girl returned. Balance was restored.

Jennifer gathered her things and walked to the edge of the clearing; nothing called her back. With a final look back she whispered-

“Be at peace. Be at balance. Reap all that you’ve sown.”  

A Missive From The Main

This is the first post in the lead up to our next event: Lamb To The Slaughter. The Main even post with further information will be coming soon. 

Written by: @jenniferblake for @ruined-rp

[ruined-rp]

EVENT 002 // YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW

Davina really thought Heaven would be better than this. She’d grown up with all the stories of her elders, the fables of the other side and the peace that overcame you the moment you crossed over. A witch's Heaven was meant to be so many things, a reflection of the person there, a greeting of the soul by the ones we loved and lost… this wasn’t it.

Here, there was nothing but black. A void that left her feeling neither here nor there, a kind of limbo that had Davina yearning for something else… anything else. Searching blindly, she called out… as if it would all change in a flash, as if the black would melt away and she’d finally get to see the pristine dimension she’d dreamt about… At least here, her insides was as silent and dark as the space around her. Davina could feel the loss, the powers of her sisters gone. Whether that meant the ritual had worked or not… she couldn’t tell you. Panic flared within her… if the ritual didn’t work, if her sacrifice was in vain… Oh God.

“Welcome, Witch, to the Void.”

Davina’s head jerked towards the sound- a fruitless endeavour. It didn’t stem from one singular place. It seemed to surround her, it seemed to originate from within her. A rich, powerful voice that consumed her mind until there was nothing else but the words being spoken. Her panic amplified tenfold, the sensory deprivation of the void, as the voice called it, becoming too much to bear.

“We’ve been watching you.”

Doe eyes widened as her body seemed to still, tensing of its own accord. She wasn’t in control here, of anything. It’s why she hadn’t moved from the spot in witch she stood the entire time her consciousness had arrived in this plane… what the hell was this place?

“Do not worry, Witch. You are safe in the Void.”

It was about there that something within her snapped. The panic breaking away, giving room to the anger that welled beneath the surface. “Then who are you? Why won’t you show yourself to me?” Every fibre of her being was urging her on, telling her she had to break free, to move, to do anything…

“We are more than one, we are many. A physical form is beneath us, Witch. We are The Ancestors and we’ve been watching you. Your Vampire allies broke our most sacred of vows and your sacrifice… Honorable as it may be, remains a sacrifice made in vain.”

Shaking her head, Davina closed her eyes. It was almost easier to picture the voice, a darkness of her own creation was safer than anything surrounding her in that moment. She didn’t know what they meant, “I finished the ritual. Isn’t that what you wanted? Bring them back… you need to bring them back.” The hot sting of tears pricked at her eyes, the realisation that it didn’t work beginning to weigh heavily on her.

“It is too late for them, too late for New Orleans. The Nemeton is awake and there is nothing you or we can do to stop it, she will continue to ravage the town until she is appeased. Your sisters… they’re gone. As their deaths were the trigger, they cannot be undone. Marcellus Gerard… he rushed a fools errand that night and the consequences are far greater than anyone can comprehend.”

Tears flowed freely down her face as she thought of Monique, Cassie and Abigail. This was all for them, to bring them back, to save the ones she loved and rectify a horrible mistake… and it hadn’t worked. Her heart ached at the loss, the loss of her sisters, of her Elders, of Marcel… the only man she’d ever truly loved. What had she done? “Yes, this mistake lies on your shoulders, young Witch… however, there is a way to maintain the balance, to fight the Nemeton and protect your home.” Davina’s head snapped up, towards absolutely nothing as the voice gave her the only sliver of hope she needed. “I’ll do anything…”

“Marcellus Gerard not only awoke the Nemeton… he killed our Elders and, in doing so, severed our tether to the land. You feed us with your power and, in doing so, we return the favour. Without that link, the Witches of the Nine Covens are flailing, their magic fades with every breath they take. We’ve been watching you, Davina Claire.” She tensed, though this time of her own accord, her breath caught in her lungs as the unspoken words hung in the air around her.

“Right now, your friends are trying to bring you back. They’ve entrusted the very woman who took your life to return it to you… It is a wish we can grant… under one condition.” Davina almost jumped out of her skin. “With the Elders slaughtered, we are in need of a new Regent. A Witch to re-link the Nine Covens. It is not an easy path, heavy is the head that wears the crown and this is the ultimate path. You will be our direct connection to the land, to the witches who walk upon it and tether their powers to us. Should you accept, we will send you back to your body. Do not make this decision lightly, Davina Claire. The fate of the world will lie within you…”

Davina squared her shoulders, her chin lifting as if physically preparing herself for the transition. “I accept.” She didn’t need to think twice about it. Anything to save her home… The voice spoke just as a large claw hooked around her navel, “Do not fail us, Witch.” Her body jerked back through the void, her soul reconnecting with her body on the physical plane.

Davina Claire woke with a gasp.

A Missive From The Main

This post marks the completion of our Event, Lamb To The Slaughter. You may begin wrapping up your threads and resume posting and plotting as normal. A few key points from this Event:

The three fallen Harvest Girls; Monique, Cassie & Abigail will not be coming back to life.

Davina Claire is no longer the Harvest Witch, she is now the Regent Witch of the Nine Covens.

Her death is not common knowledge, only those mentioned in the Main Event Post will know of her demise. The knowledge may trickle out organically over time, so long as it is plotted out correctly.

No one IC will ever know Jennifer is the one who performed the ritual for Davina, aside from Davina and Jennifer.

Written by: @recoltesorciere for @ruined-rp