sunshincwitch

[sunshincwitch]

Chamomile was scrambling just a little bit, checking her phone as she tugged on the red dress Felicity had helped her pick out and insisted on paying for. It was a much lower cut than she was used to, but she felt confident and appreciated the gold accessories that tied them all together. Coordinating with Luke felt strange, like she was hiding something when she really just didn't know how to explain their connection and why she was bringing a defenseless human to one of the most important events of the year. She kept reminding herself that she wasn't doing anything wrong, just helping a friend like she was helping the wolves. 

She nearly ran into Arte in the hall as she tugged on her heels. She came to a less than graceful stop in front of them, and reached out to tug their collar into place, her fingers lingering a few extra moments as she took them in and the way they were matching. "Look at us," she smiles, her voice warm with affection, "The red suits you, with your hair especially." Her phone vibrates insistently in her pocket as the smile slips, not wanting to leave. "I'm sorry I have to run, but I will meet you all there and you are going to do an amazing, I have no doubt about that at all"

@huntedarte

[sunshincwitch]

Chamomile is not used to events of this caliber, going out and showing her face, so used to hiding. But her mother has found her already, and they are tentatively building a bridge between them. She hasn't had a chance to talk to Arte about it, but she has put that aside for the night to support Arte as they attend as the Alpha of EVENTIDE pack.

Chamomile Greensmith arrives early, slightly before the rest of her fuzzpile. She hadn't been totally sure how to explain the presence of the human man at her side, but had promised @gcllantt she would get him in as she helped him search for his missing wife. She doesn't plan to linger with him, but instead to move to support Arte and her wolves as they navigate this event. The presence of new covens are making her nervous, but she is grateful no other members of Ironwood are showing their face.

[sunshincwitch]

Chamomile hit play on her phone with the cranked the volume to the max as she sat down on her floor cushion, legs folded tightly underneath her as she flipped through her Grimoire. Her eyes did not stray from its pages, refusing to see anything outside her circle.

Out of sight in the second circle, Aoife’s blood ran together and pooled, welling up in puddles of viscous liquid before sinking into the concrete and the earth below. The witch took this time to breathe, and run through what she knew of Arte’s curse and the possible application of her research and wards. It had been a selfish part of her reasoning for agreeing to this ritual, it taught her so much that her own study and magic could not. She wondered if there were any applications that this ritual could offer, if she could find a way to bleed the curse off Arte, or transform it into something different. She stayed that way for some time, ideas germinating before growing too quickly and dying off before they can bear fruit. She feels so close, like the answer is at her fingertips if she could just reach out-

A leaf nudges against her hand, snapping hers out of her thoughts as tender shoots a licorice dark burgundy slip between her fingers. She puts her Grimoire aside, revealing crumbling stone as the plant born from Aoife’s blood forced its way above ground. Gently, she cupped the leaves, mindful of the wickedly sharp thorns hidden underneath. The plant felt like it was thrumming with power, radiating heat that scorched Chamomile’s skin, warming like she stood in the noonday sun but quickly surpassing comfort, her fingers blistering like she had spent hours directly in its rays with no relief.

Chanting and spellwork had never been part of her practice, she had her runes the sigils she carved in stone and root, and she grew plants into specific patterns, but there were no words to be recited or memorized. Instead, she poured her magic into the plant, her intent, the blood of a vampire and the heat of the sun twisted and running through patterns that built on each other and knotted into symbols of power. The plant grew hotter and hotter, as the tendrils grew longer and curled up her arm, forming a band of vines and leaves. Small flowers forming where the vines crossed, a crimson red gem at the blossoms' heart.

Once all the flowers bloomed the rest of the plant crumbled away into ash, and Chamomile was free to stand, no longer feathered to the earth. Stretching, she allowed the song that was playing to finish out, giving time for feeling to return to her feet as she slipped the arm cuff off. Once the song was over, she turned off her headphones and looked around her, pleased to note Aoife was alone with no mess to speak of. Scratching one foot through her circle, breaking its ward, she approached Aoife circlet in hand.

"The jewelry, as requested. I hope you don’t mind the nature theme, the benefit should outweigh any fashion concerns." She offered up the armband, the vines having cooled to a burnished silver, the flowers still glinting with those crimson gems. Even with the ritual completed, the metal felt warm to the touch, the power roiling just barely contained beneath the surface. "Now if you don't mind I'm going to go upstairs and pound some espresso, so I don't pass out on the bike ride home"

Aoife could see the shift in the young witch, the slight straightening of her shoulders, the steel behind her eyes as she flipped thought the notebook. A tingle of surprise ran through the vampires finger tips. Yet the surprise was not unwelcome. While before Chamomile had been useful but ultimately disposable, now she was something interesting. It seemed she was built of more steel than the vampire had been anticipating. Aoife collected rumors, and she had heard the traces of what was expected from the seventh daughter of the seventh daughter. She hadn't believed it when Chamomile had first appeared in her shop, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, but now? Now Aoife could see the potential boiling under the surface, just waiting to be unleashed, restrained by only the will of the witch herself.

Aoife waved her hand brushing off the demands Chamomile made, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at implication that Aoife would be unable to control herself. Something more akin to a feral animal than a person. The begrudging respect that was starting to build nearly collapsing under the weight of the implication. "My personal residence has a basement where we won't be disturbed. I have also read the ritual and understand enough of magic theory to know what the cost to myself is. Preparations will be made, no blood of yours will be split. You have my word. " Aoife would offer with a slight nod of her head, silently accepting the other terms the witch laid out. The rest of the logistics were worked out quickly each women having their own business to attend to.

Magic was fascinating to Aoife. She had only ever learned of its existence after she had been turned into a vampire, that particular power well out of her reach. She watched Chamomile work from safety of her private study well out of the way. The small camera and televison set up left over from the various hunters that had rotated through the basement gave the vampire the perfect viewpoint of Chamomile at work. The vampires hearing heard the small bell, biting her tongue at the idea of being summed like a mere servant. Swallowing her pride would be the first of many sacrifices she would have to give during this ritual.

Aoife slowly descended the stairs, barely registering the second pair of foot steps that echoed just out of time with her own. Aoife rose a hand, having the compelled women stop on the edge of the room. Aoife was careful not to touch the circle as she stepped gingerly over the first ring of salt, what she wouldn't give to be able to see the strings of magic that tangled around the basement now. She didn't bother to speak while Chamomile explained the details of each of their roles to play. Instead she listened, it was hard to admit that she was in Chamomiles hands, vulnerable in ways that sent chills down the vampires spine.

Aoife took the the blade feeling the weight of it in her hand, her curiosity piqued at what would have cursed a blade once dull. Cursed to draw blood, pull it from the victom to feed into the soil "Do not fret Chamomile. This would not be the first time I will have bled to this point." Aoife indulged herself a smile and a scoff, searching for something to make her feel a bit of power return to her hands. To keep her air of superiority. It was amusing the sudden attitude Chamomile took when she was in her inner circle. Yet if this ritual worked, the little witch would have earned it "You have made your preparations as have I. Once it is done I will wait for you to be done" motioning the shadow of a women that waited on the stairs.

Aoife sat across from the inner circle, patiently waiting for the witch to put on the headphones. Once Chamomile was secure in her deniability Aoife rose the blade. She closed her eyes picturing the warmth of the sun on her face, the new freedom that stood so close, only blood was left to be paid. Aoife extended her arm, pulling the ritual dagger along the vein, hissing at the pain flared under the familiar sting of vervane. Blood rushed from her arm, dripping slowly at first from the thin cut before more and more slid from her pale skin soaking into the floor of the basement once again. Aoife could feel the life draining out of her.

Panic slowly rose in Aoifes throat as memories surfaced with each drop of the blood that left her body. Exhaling slowly as she pulled on anything else to keep her mind occupied. Her mind found the pieces of poetry that left unfinished up on her desk. "Like Orpheus I am not strong enough to not look at what I want" She spoke slowly in her native Irish, eyes slowly opening to look at the blood that coated her arm. Centering herself even as she began to sway softly. The blood began to slow down as the reserves that had been built over time within the vessel of Aoife began to run low. Soon no more would emerge and all that was left was the hunger. The knife dropped to the ground, landing where the collection of blood had been seconds before.

Aoife snapped her fingers, the compelled women moving into the first circle and directly into Aoife's waiting teeth. It was then the compulsion broke, and the screams started. It was already too late. The vampire was typically sparing in her use of compulsion, but when they were lambs already dead just waiting for the world to find out it was a kindness, to let their last moment on earth be in the comforting haze of compulsion and not filled with terror.

Aoife was not typically a messy eater, and even pushed to the brink she refused to let the last vestiges of herself be stripped away from her. She drank greedily, not a single drop of liquid escape from her consumption. Not caring that to replenish the well of her own life she would have to strip another of theirs. The struggle soon left the women, and Aoife pushed the body off her lap a dull thud as it crashed to the stone floor. She wiped the blood away from her lips, a coppery smear across her porcelain skin. Aoife looked up to Chamomile who was still hard at work.

Might as well keep in line with the sprit of the witch's wishes. Aoife moved slowly, her body still foriegn to her after the ritual. A tarp was grabbed from a shelf and spread over the corpse covering any evidence of something that would weigh on the witchs mind. Aoife crossed her arms, and waited.

[sunshincwitch]

Chamomile gritted her teeth as Aoife laid out all the stupid mistakes and how fragile her little lie of a life was. She had been careful, she had, but Aoife was right, she was 14 when she ran and even though she tried to be smart there were things she hadn’t even known to be careful about. That didn’t mean she appreciated those mistakes being thrown in her face, especially as a tactic to make her do something for the Vampire. She had done so much, made so much progress in her life, and yet all it took apparently was a Vampire with abundance of resources to make all that work feel like it was for nothing. She didn’t dignify Aoife with a response to her comments about the young witch’s mistakes, there was no point in arguing or pointing out all of the ways in which she had succeeded.

Instead she picked up the the journal and began thumbing through it, skimming pages as she quickly took in the shape and purpose of the ritual. The notes were impeccable, Aoife clearly having done her homework, or stolen the notebook from someone who had. Whoever the witch who had put together the building blocks understood price and power, and how to siphon off energy from one form into another in a way that Chamomile rarely saw. But what was a ritual but a ward? a collection of runes used to channel magic into your chosen cage? It had been years since she had attempted something of this magnitude, but she had no doubt that she could complete the ritual, as long as she didn’t get eaten in the process.

“Yes, I can complete it. I’ll need about a week, my second comp is due in 2 days, and will probably sleep for 24 hours after that.” She barely looked up from the notebook, all the fear and discomfort melting from her body as she sank into the magic, already selecting the glyphs she will use, a running list building behind her minds eye. Her doctorate would take precident over this, but it wouldn’t take her long to complete once she is able to focus, to pour her attention into the ritual Aoife was requesting. “I’ll need to gather some supplies, and we will need a secure location to perform it in. You understand the personal cost you will be paying correct? I will channel the magic for you, carve the runes and speak the words but I will not be contributing a drop of my own blood, that is non negotiable.” She doesn’t question, doesn’t leave room for Aoife to argue. She is confident Aoife will agree to her terms, the ritual is complex and lengthy. Aoife had already made it abundantly clear the was used to a certain level of competence, and had the power and influence to get the information she needed and a witch capable of completing the ritual. Chamomile had no way of knowing if she was the first on a list of witches the vampire had gathered, or if she was merely the most convenient. If she didn’t agree to Chamomile’s terms she would walk away, the money would be nice, a functioning kitchen and hot water a luxury she longed for but she wasn’t willing to sacrifice herself for it.

They talked for some time, hashing out specifics and coming to agreements on when and where the ritual would take place. And Chamomile agreed, if successful, to discuss completing the ritual again for other members of Aoife’s family. —

It’s a little more than a week later, a particularly wet and miserable afternoon ruining her first batch of salt chalk that she had planned on using to mark out the ritual, but it isn’t much longer before she is kneeling down in the basement Aoife had assured her would be a safe location for her workings. Glyphs and hash marks covered the floor in two concentric circles, the inner 10 feet in diameter, and the outer one nearly kissing the walls. The chalk was white, but as she began to pour her magic into the inner circle it darkened to a verdent shade of green, leaves and stems raising weblike into the air from the symbols in a tangled weave of crawling tendrils before dissapearing. She could still feel them there, invisible to the eye but pulsating, a thousand live wires of xylem waiting for something to grasp on to and suck into the roots placed below. The outer circle fed into the heart, where two seperate rituals twined into one, only the outer one was necessary for what Aoife had asked but Chamomile was not about to risk personal safety even if the Vampire had assured her she was in no danger. Both rituals would feed into each other, offering strength and stability, but if one were to fail all energy would be thrown into the center as a failsafe. She had told Aoife not to disturb her while she worked, she was welcome to watch but she did not have the patience to be explaining what she was doing or field questions, and she was used to working alone. This wasn’t like the little workings she did at home where she could talk and laugh while she mapped things out, this was something new and while she had complete confidence in her own abilities she did not want to be distracted. It was only after she had checked her work twice, tugging at the roots of the magic that was now thrumming beneath her feet waiting for the nutrients and energy that would feed into the jewelry once blood was shed, that she went to the wall and tugged at the bellcord that would summon Aoife. The vampire did not leave her waiting, and she didn’t bother with pleasentries or greetings, they had dispensed with those hours ago when she had first arrived at the house.

“I have everything set, the next part is dependent on you and if you are able to go through with draining your blood to desiccation.” Reaching into the inner circle she pulled her old athame from her cambridge satchel that rested on top of a thick floor cushion embroidered with summer blossoms. It’s a simple blade, not forged to spill blood, its edge shouldn’t even be sharp. But history and desperation had turned the ritual tool into something more, something that would wound with cruel accuracy “This knife would be easiest, it’s cursed to spill blood already and I’ve coated the blade in verbena. If you would prefer a different method that is fine, however you prefer to bleed is your own business but if you are not able to produce enough blood then we will have to wait until I have my strength again to try a second time and I am not sure how much a failed ritual will take out of me.” Her instructions are delivered clearly, theres none of her earlier hesitation or fear, words rolling from her tongue with confident ease. She can feel the weight of her magic in every breath, every muscle in her body, all calling out for her to create to make something that others could only dream to attempt. She’s almost drunk with it, the feeling of complete ease, that this is what she was born for, great and terrible rituals that changed the tide of lives and would shake this city to its foundations.

“We have fifteen minutes until the sun reaches its peak. I will be sitting there” she points to the cushion, and her bag, “with noise cancelling headphones on and my grimoire. What you choose to do, how you react to your blood being drained and the hunger that follows is entirely up to you. I want no part in that. Once you have bled then I will be able to continue the ritual, but I agreed to the ritual only and will not be involved with any body dumping or clean up, and I will not be an option should your hunger prove more than you can handle” Wiping dust from the lenses of her glasses she stilled, allowing Aoife time to counter, to question, to voice any final thoughts before stepping into this magic with Chamomile. Magic that would change the trajectory of the vampires life she was sure, and she had a feeling deep in her gut that it would be changing hers as well.

Aoife could feel the wariness radiating off the witch as she settled into the chair across from the desk. Smart girl, this was the lions den after all. The Irish women ran a pale finger along the rim of her glass, considering how much she was willing to part with. A witch was a useful tool to have under ones thumb, and Chamomile was an incredibly powerful one at that. It wouldn't hurt to lift the curtain for the young one. The facade of trust was a valuable thing to present to the witch after all. Aoife had read through the explanation provided after the heist. She knew that she would need to exsanguinated of nearly all blood and that would leave her at the mercy of Chamomile. Aoife needed to be sure that the witch wouldn't take that moment to try and overstep her bounds and take advantage of a weakened Aoife.

"The first time we became acquainted, you asked for a rare edition of a book for your doctorate program studies" Aoife explained, a slight gleam in her eye. She didn't often feel the need to monologue, in fact she typically preferred to be a silent observer letting others talk themselves in circles before she struck. However the vampire wasn't above stroking her own ego when the time called for it. "It wasn't too challenging to find your program and trace your academic history back to NYU. After that it was just following the crumbs left behind, and a fourteen year-old leaves a lot of crumbs behind. " Aoife finished the explanation, sipping from her drink an easy smirk showing off the tips of her fangs.

"Now" The vampire tapped the cover of the journal, drawing attention back to the simple black leather. "I don't like to waste my time. Is this something that you can do or not?" Aoife pushed, not unkindly but straight to the point. "If so, how long will you need to prepare and study?"

[sunshincwitch]

“Well if you appreciate sun tea then we have to be friends,” the witch declared, leaning back on her arms to stare up to the cloudless sky. “I have lindon, and lemon, or orange, rose hip and clover blossom, or a simple mint” she lists off the three jars she had started early that morning, all herbs she had grown and harvested herself, and citrus from the farmers market the weekend before. A fully stocked pantry, and the ability to buy fresh citrus and new jars had totally changed what she was able to make, and share with her friends. She wanted to always have a drink or bite of food to share if someone came calling, to be the house that people wanted to spend time at and felt comfortable coming to.

“Say less friend, I have plenty of herb to share, the harvest this year was very generous.” Even without pouring too much of her magic into the individual plants, it had been like the land wanted to grow things, to be harvested and put to use. “Do you want just the natural stuff, or are you ok with a little magical interference?” not everyone enjoyed a spelled blunt, and she respected that, It's why she always kept a few basic pre-rolls tucked aside with her more animated girlblunts.

Codie watches Chamomile work, intensely interested in how gardening with magic works. There are days where she wholesale up and down wishes she wasn't born a wolf, that she instead had lived with her Ma her whole life, being taught the ins and outs about how to weave magic in teas and tinctures. There's a part of her that wonders if, maybe one day, there will be a cure in her lifetime. She'd even tried to ask, but no.

Her smile doesn't fade, though, despite where her thoughts have gone.

"Oh, gosh. I'd love some tea, but I don't think it's that serious." A slight, amused laugh with a shake of her head follows the question. "I haven't had suntea in ages, though." Codie's hands rub against the jean shorts on her thighs. "I was gonna come by just to chat, honestly, and maybe get a little of your fun herbs if you can stand to part with a few."

[sunshincwitch]

Chamomile raises an eyebrow at the request, but she nods, and shoots the other Barista a sign saying that she will be back in a few, before following the man outside. She shoved her hands in her pockets to hide the sigils she began tracing idly in the empty space there. Luke was a friend, and she trusted him, but she also didn’t want to be caught completely unawares. She doubted that he wanted to cause her harm, but she couldn’t be too cautious. She had been building small innocuous wards into the café since she started working there, it helped that it was witch run, so when she came in early to sketch out some workings in chalk nobody batted an eye. Now all she needed was to be touching the building, and to activate the wards, and she would have a fighting chance in a confrontation.

Stepping out into the sunshine, she moves away from the windows, allowing them some privacy while also putting a solid wall at her back. “What’s going on, is everything ok? We aren’t about to get raided or anything are we?” She asks, wracking her brain to try and think of why he would be asking for a private word.

Luke nods his head along and says something to keep the conversation going, "I hear you."

He wishes he could exist on the surface with Cham, but he doesn't come into Brewed Awakening today only for burn bagels and mochas. Since the night of the Khaos party, since he saw Eleanor, Luke has been doing some digging. It's so easy to chalk up his findings to rumours, to folklore, to bullshit, but when a familiar names comes up in his research, how can you tell what is lie and what is truth?

He's not proud of the snooping he's done on his friend, Cham, but Luke is willing to cross boundaries of friends in order to find his wife. Breaking ethical codes is worth it, when it comes to Eleanor.

"How about we chat outside?" The question is shot calmly, as collect as Luke can be. Here's the thing, he's a terrible liar, so much so, he can't show his face at a poker game.

The other thing is, he doesn't want to push Cham away, His friendship with the barista, as brief as it is, is important to Luke. Not many people in Port Leiry know his name, let alone, save any reservation of kindness towards him.

Regardless of his concerns, he's willing to pull out a blowtorch and set aflame his potential friendship with Cham if it got him even an inch closer to finding out what happened to his Eleanor.

[sunshincwitch]

Every fiber of her being wanted to run, to leave, to get out and as far away as possible. But despite her need to get out, she found herself rooted in place. It wasn’t even something magic, her wards would have warned her, it was pure paralyzing fear. She felt like she was outside her body, watching herself as she raised her hand to wave back, the other hand still tucked beneath the counter typing frantically. Her hand hung there in the air, holding her prisoner as her mind warred with her body, instinct fighting with memory. Fight, flight or freeze. She’s had over a decade to prepare for this moment, and yet now that it is here at her feet and she can’t make them move. Flight has ruled her life for as long as she has been making decisions on her own, and to have it abandon her so suddenly is unsettling.

Her staying is an open invitation, the spark of possibility, however stupid, to allow her mother an opportunity to prove herself. To show what role Proserpina wants to play, if she is still intends to wield her youngest daughter as a tool to cause pain or if she would view her as a person. She didn’t question how the older witch had found her, Aoife had made it more than clear that even if she thought she was being clever in how she hid given enough resources she was easy enough to find. And the PhD program didn’t help, they liked to publish articles and lectures that she had participated in. It was impossible to be totally hidden with no digital footprint at this day and age.

Finally, she put her hand down, and turned to grab a drink for herself. Proserpina would do whatever she was going to do, Chamomile just hoped that she would be smart enough to not attack her outright in public.

Port Leiry was a sweet little town. It was clear that if Ironwood truly put down roots here, they would grow ferocious and deep and choke out the foundations of this very strange, magical place. But Proserpina needs the fruit of her labors to regain that power she worked so hard to cultivate.

The witch has met the Ryan child. She unearthed the strange root of her bloodline. Daughter number six even followed her out west, but managed to elude her eagle-eyed watch. And really, it should not have been difficult to find Anathema among the throngs of lesser beings in Port Leiry, but there was a thrill to the hunt. In sprinkling the seeds of fear, waiting for something to sprout in her daughter's sphere. The family is powerful, and the prophecy is inevitable. This collision has been a long time coming.

And yet, Ros is not ready to burst that bubble. Anathema might yet be more powerful than her, even if she squanders her gifts out of fear. Curses and family magic have their signatures to them, and even if the girl tried to stop using her powers, they were always a part of her. And they wouldn't stay down long. And so, Proserpina has managed to trace those familiar threads and find her child of prophecy hard-won working at a coffee shop. As if she weren't the jewel of Ironwood Coven.

Proserpina has been watching Anathema through the window of the coffee shop for some time now -- there's something... amusing and heartbreaking in watching the child go through such a mundane routine. She contemplates going in to order a coffee just to watch her daughter confront the truth that Ironwood, and fate, could not be escaped. But this is just as satisfying. The hunt is still on.

Eyes make contact and Ros stands, though she gently raises a hand and waves her fingers at Anathema.

I see you. I found you. I have you.

And yet she waits outside to see what the girl will do next.

[sunshincwitch]

⊗ Flick

She’s a little loathe to admit it, but Chamomile really enjoys when she gets spoiled. She is so unused to it, gifts and attention without the expectation of reciprocation. Especially when she does go out of her way to get Chamomile vegan options to eat, it means so much to her.

Flick reminds her of home, not Boston, but New York, and the family she found there. That feeling is very nostalgic and makes her feel safe.

While Chamomile loves the rest of the fuzzpile, there’s a level of ease and independence with Flick. After Flick had recovered, and come back from New York, they had gotten the chance to spend time together outside the caregiver and grievously injured dynamic, and Chamomile admires the care Flick shows for the people that are important to her, the protectiveness and the confidence in her relationships.

[sunshincwitch]

⊗ Blair!

Blair is Cham’s closest witch friend, both in magic and temperment. Phial as a coven interests her as she feels like her Greenwitch talents, but shes not sure if she would ever join another coven.

Chamomile doesn’t have a greenhouse, so winter isn’t really a time when she gets to garden. She credits getting through the winter to Blair’s greenhouse, and the time they spent there together playing puff puff pass with her girlblunts.

Blair is the one person Chamomile feels like she can be honest with and she won’t get judgement. She hasn’t told Blair about the Ryans yet but she knows or at least really really hopes that Blair is someone she can drag her demons out and not be thrown out.

[sunshincwitch]

Send me ⊗ for 3+ headcanons about your muse and mine. - for the fuzzpile

I have the very clear picture of all the wolves coming home after running on the full moon, collapsing into a pile and Cham crawling over the piles of fur and falling asleep tucked in the center of them all.

Now that Cham has electricity and running water and has been working on the kitchen she loves cooking for everyone and eating together, even if it doesn’t happen all that often she loves having everyone together.

Cham hates being alone at night, but she is so connected to the house that she won’t move into the city. She’ll never say it outright, but the has nightmares that aren’t exactly easy to miss, so she is really grateful whenever someone stays the night. Even just having another body sleeping near her but in a different room helps calm her down

[sunshincwitch]

⚡️- do you plan on killing your mother like you did your father

Not in the same way, I don't think she would fall for the same trap that he did. Not to speak ill of the dead, but my mother would not be so easy to render defenseless. I don't have plans to kill her, but if she threatens the people I love? I won't roll over and let it happen

[sunshincwitch]

Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

The massacre of the Ryan pack fundamentally changed, and shattered her. That night she ran, she changed everything about herself and thought she would never look back. She didn’t use magic for over 5 years, and she only allowed herself to use magic after she killed her father. The only person Cham can say knows with confidence is Proserpina, she doesn’t know how much Tyche knows and is terrified for anyone in Port Liery to learn the truth about her.

[sunshincwitch]

How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

Chamomile spent her first 14 years with her head in books, studying glyphs and rituals without noticing anything else around her. She never really suspected or processed that they were working with hunters, cursing strangers while cursing their own lineage in search of strangth. Despite everything, she's still pretty trusting, she wants to assume the best of people, that there can be good out there. Because if other people can be good, why couldn't she?

[sunshincwitch]

⚡️Do you think you will ever atone for what you did to the Ryan pack?

There's no way to atone for the death of so many, for wiping out a pack, grandmother, father, son. Thanks to my magic so many lives were snuffed out, bedtime stories never told, birthdays never celebrated. That's not something that can simply be forgiven. But maybe if I can figure out how to lift the remnants of my mothers curse, that could be a start.

[sunshincwitch]

Chamomile had felt it the moment that Codie crossed into her little neck of the woods, but she wasn’t worried, she was so used to wolves in her territory that it felt natural. She kept going about her planting, elbow deep in loam as she buried a few special seeds deep into the earth, far deeper than would typically be expected. She could feel something coming, ironwoods showing up in Port Liery, storms that have no business in this climate, and was trying to buy herself some extra insurance.

She was just covering them up when Codie plopped down beside her, and she patted the earth 3 times before turning and looking at the wolf. “Sure, this a conversation I am going to want to have over tea? Because there’s some suntea on the porch.” She offered, brushing the dirt off her arms, a touch of magic helping the dirt fall away. “Or do I need to be grabbing my grimoire?”

closed starter for: @sunshincwitch

This was supposed to be a quick hop to town to gather herbs for her Ma, but.. She was curious, mostly, about the witch that's been hanging around Eventide territories more often than not. With her love of greenery and magic, Codie felt like it was only natural for her to try and barge into her life to make some sense of things. But she just really hadn't had a good enough excuse yet.

'Excuse me, why are you over here?' felt too rude, even though she definitely didn't mean it like that. And 'Do you wanna be a wolf, too?' felt even ruder. So she'd just waited until her brain could conjure up a reason.

And now it had - the perfect one, in fact. She'd heard tale of Cham's proclivities for, ahem, the good stuff -- and it'd been a while since she indulged. Like since Tennessee, really.

She plops down next to the witch, offering her a bright smile. "Hey! Mind if I pick your brain a bit?"

[sunshincwitch]

With a glance at the other baristas on shift, and the dwindling line, the witch judged they had the remainders in hand and signaled to them that she would be stepping away for a few minutes for a break. She appreciated her coworkers' support and flexibility, not being tied to strict schedules and being able to step away when needed. Grabbing her own iced coffee and a blueberry muffin, she stepped away from the main counter, settling against the wall where she could speak freely with the man without impeding service.

“It’s the sunshine finally breaking through all the gloom, you would think we would get more customers when its dark and dreary and people would need the extra pick me up. But really its once the sun comes out and its bright when people are leaving the house for work that people start flooding in” She doesn’t need to explain it in detail, she could have just agreed and moved on. But she had begrudginly come to enjoy her morning chats with Luke, and it was nice to make small talk with someone who wasn’t an asshole like too many of the morning customers. Pausing to scarf down half her muffin, washing it down with her coffee “I can never decide if the slow mornings or busy mornings are better. On one hand, tips, on the other hand, the concentration of assholes goes up.”

The key when moving to an entirely new city is finding a good coffee shop, it’s a quick way to establish familiarity in a foreign place. Even though he’s a cop, Officer Monroe isn’t one for doughnuts. Too sweet. It’s always been small, mom and pop coffee shops, that get Luke out of bed in the morning.

When Cham has his burnt bagel and mocha in hand, Luke lips widened in a smile. He’s grateful for her kindness. Some of the guys on the force have come to expect things for free from the locals around town, they put their palms open, free coffees and pastries would just fall into them. Just for wearing a uniform. It disgusts Luke. Lots of things about the force does.

“Thanks Cham,” he says, reaching his hand out to his crispy bagel, “You’re the best.” Now, he wouldn’t admit to the other employees at the Brewed Awakening, but Cham is his favorite barista in the shop. Maybe because, some how, he earned this pleasantry between them. When he first started coming around the shop, Luke’s kind and friendly nature was met with dismissiveness. He must’ve caught on her a bad day. Then it seemed to be, everyday was a bad day for Cham. When down and saw the uniform he was wearing, he began to put the pieces together.

Luke, as good as he tries to be, is not naive. Not everyone’s favorite public servants are police officers and for good reason. He’s seen the news. Witnessed the ACAB graffiti on the abandoned buildings amongst the city. If there could ever be such thing as a good cop, Luke wanted to be that. To be fair and just. Kind and helpful. Act with reason and care. To be someone this community could rely on. Even if it’s as small as helping a stranger change a tire.

Over the past month Luke’s been coming to this spot, his earnest nature must’ve shined through, because Cham’s coldness began to melt away. So much so, she’s saving bagels for him now.

“You guys ran out fast today,” Luke says to her. Just making friendly small talk. He takes a sip of his mocha. It’s damn good. “Must’ve been a busy morning, huh?”

[sunshincwitch]