#You need Soul Magic to detect a Liminal

[bet-on-me-13]

Metahumans are just Liminals

So! As far as I know, Metahumans get their powers because they have Nth Metal in their DNA (I think? It might be a single continuity thing).

But what if Nth Metal is just Solidified Ectoplasm?

Metahumans are just a different Brand of Liminal. They get their powers from Metalic Ectoplasm in their DNA rather than Pure Ectoplasm in their Soul. As such, their powers are much more based on their Genetics rather than their Obsessions.

A Metahuman is more likely to have children who share the same power. It is Passed On through their DNA, and as such it may not actually fit the users Personality. The upside is that the Power is usually stronger than normal.

A Liminal will get their powers from their Soul. Whatever fits their Obsession the best is what they will get. The downside is that their power is weaker than a Metahumans abilities.

A Ghost is the perfect combination of the Two.

They have a Core made of Metalic Ectoplasm, and a Soul made of Pure Ectoplasm. They have the Power of a Metahuman, and the Fitting Nature of Liminals.

Side Note: Halfas are kind of an even better version of that? They have the Metalic Core, the Pure Ecto Soul, and the Body of a Human to contain the Power.

Thoughts?

[agentqv]

“We Will Speak Again After”

A Binx/Andhera Fanfic

Part V: Knight and Weaver

After that cold night, dawn quietly arrived, and Andhera woke up. They were covered in bandages, with Grandpa Dog drooling on their lap. For a moment the prince thought they had detected worry in the old dog’s old face. But who can really say what was there? Binx had prepared breakfast, it’s some kind of sugary mortal concoction that went with mortal cow milk (unlike fey cow milk, which is a total other thing). It’s not bad. No cold breeze disrupted them.

They sat together in silence, enjoying the morning. For a moment Andhera wonders if last night was a dream, but his broken ribs painfully beg to differ. With his magic, the bones heal enough, but still require a little more time to fully settle. They’re still good to walk unfortunately.

Luckily, Lady Gwyndolin is a healer, and Binx feels they’ll come upon her soon. But that’s the least of their worries.

“So you met my mom.” Andhera says as Binx disposes of their dishes into a liminal space between their wings. “That must have been pretty interesting.” There was vaguely casual way to the way Andhera was speaking, perhaps last night’s chaos emphasized the need for some levity.

“Yeah, figured it was a little soon for that. Good to know we’re serious.” Binx awkwardly flirted. Andhera sat up with a sharp groan. “Can’t wait for you to meet my parents.”

“I know, first impressions are tricky. But what’d you think of her?” Binx doesn’t immediately respond, so Andhera continues. “I was thinking maybe we could invite her to Thanksgiving with Scratch and Gwyn? See if Rue and Hob want her at their wedding? Maybe an invitation to the Lord of the Wing’s upcoming orgy? I bet she’d have thoughts about Airry Pearry’s next best-selling page turner.”

Binx smirked just a little bit at their insolence, before eying the bandages on their stomach and the cuts on their face. They come closer and drop the façade, kneeling beside Andhera and straightening their robe. She looks them in the eyes.

“What I think is… I love you so much, and we need to kill her.” Andhera couldn’t help but smile at both the total admission of love and the sudden insinuation that they could kill the living embodiment of evil and darkness, but there was also an uncertainty in Andhera towards that consideration. What he saw in their mother, even just for a moment, had begun to twist his outlook. Binx perceived that uncertainty. “Or we find a way to contain her or whatever. I’m done with letting her hurt you-” Andhera sighed. A soft guilt followed Binx’s thoughts. “I should have been there, to stop it before it got bad-“

“You did nothing wrong, I shouldn’t have gone alone… that was stupid.” Andhera admitted, looking away. “She was following us and I let her get under my skin.” The Prince shivered. Their eyes return to Binx.

“But now, it has occurred to me, after the bout and what we did… she is never going to kill me, Binx.” The prince replied, honestly. “Or you, for that matter. After that night her sadism can no longer be quelled by killing the objects of her ire.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I was kind to her, and she knows it. I gave her hope when she had none… and she will not forget that.” Binx raised an eyebrow. “She knows that killing us will not prove her point. She thinks sentiment is my fatal flaw and it’ll do me in and she needs to prove it.” He looked away. Binx’s eyes remained on him, coaxing them to continue.

“She believes the Unseelie must forgo sentiment and be made of steel and shadow in equal measures because the uncaring nightmare world we live in will kill us otherwise.” Andhera eyed her. “Long before the days I hid behind pillars, she has drilled that lesson into my skull and only now do I fully understand why.”

It was a lot to come to terms with, discovering that their mother had some inkling of a soul inside inky interior. That maybe some part of her heart wasn’t a void. And perhaps by revealing that to her, she will become restless in proving its nonexistence.

And yet he didn’t regret pulling out that spike one bit.

“My mother loves her fucking lessons. She’ll simply wait for Suntar or another of my siblings to do it.”

“Then we’re not going to wait for Suntar or your other siblings.” Binx whispered. “Not when your people are suffering under the uncaring nightmare that is your mother.” Binx found themselves very capable of maintaining eye contact all of a sudden.

“Nobody should ever be forced to feel the way you felt. Like a tool meant to be used and thrown away.” As much as Binx knew they were preaching to the choir on this one, they needed to have this talk.

“Binx.” They uttered, “You do know what you’re saying.” His hand reached for her shoulder, “Saving your court is one thing. But you want to get involved in the literal minefield that is the Unseelie?” Andhera wasn’t even sure they deserved it, but he could feel that need to do it anyways. The weaver swallowed, looking into their eyes.

Binx was done being afraid, she knew what happened when she did nothing.

“You came out here to save my people, and I desperately want to do that… And we WILL do that.” Binx reiterated. “But what kind of Weaver of Fate would I be if I didn’t do the same for yours?” She grew closer, taking their hand into hers and squeezing gently. “We take your throne, and show them a better way. Together.”

Even if it took years, they needed to break this cycle.

Despite the pomp and circumstance of this decision, Andhera couldn’t help but blush a little bit at their insinuation, feeling a prickling at his neck. The thought of ruling together with Binx, to grow old with them, leading their people together...

It seems his mother was right about something, at least.

Andhera found himself desperately lost in her passionate eyes, but he recognized something else that snatched him away from that sentiment.

“But we can’t do it alone. We’ll need more friends, and I don’t mean just from restoring the Court of Craft.”

It occurred to them that what they were discussing may require equal parts diplomacy, warfare and chaos. Luckily for the couple, they were conveniently close associates of four individuals who were incredibly well suited to such disparate tasks. And one of them had even went to war with the Unseelie before.

And another loved using birds to spy on people.

“Grandpa Dog!” Andhera spoke abruptly. “I think I’ll soon have some letters for you to deliver old boy!”

The yeth hound ignored them, lazily resting under the shade of a tree. In the background an owl unnaturally began to fly away. Who knew where it flew off to? Who, knew?

A sense of wonderous but foreboding euphoria wasn’t lost on them. As afraid as this prospect made them, it occurred to both Binx and Andhera that after the Bloom and last night, it felt like they could do anything together. As Prince and Crafter, Knight and Weaver, they belonged together.

A new chapter of their lives had just been opened and they were running into it eyes open and hearts full.

“I love you too.” The prince admitted, Binx grinned a wonderful, dazzling smile, shining in the burgeoning sunlight. “I was so afraid that I would die and never get to tell you that.” Binx stroked their face.

“I was so afraid too, it almost swallowed me whole… but you pulled me back.” They stared deeply into each other, in their own ways changed by what they had gone through together. “You were my lifeline.” It was Andhera’s turn to smile.

Binx felt that arcane pull between them, that thread linking their hands once more.

Binx delved in to embrace Andhera, careful not to disrupt his binds. Their hand caressed her cheek, his thumb rubbing one of the golden branch markings that crept up Binx’s face, not covered by her usual glamour that morning. Her cheek was burning as he studied every detail of her face, committing it to memory with a smile.

Binx’s uncertainty evaporated and she kissed him tenderly, their own hand reached for his neck to pull closer. Andhera matched her passion, and held them close after the kiss ended. The Weaver pressed their foreheads together as the morning’s golden sunlight fell upon them. She held him for as long as he permitted, facing dawn together.

“We’re doing this… we’re really doing this.” Binx uttered, a hopeful excitement encompassed her. Andhera felt it too.

“Is this okay?” She asked, her partner didn’t miss a beat.

“More than okay.” He answered back, bathed in warm light.

And they never let go.

                                                Author’s Notes:

And that’s our ending folks! This has been an awesome story to write, with alot of unexpected discoveries on my end. 

For the ending I wanted to pull back into some more of the levity that we had in the first part, which meant bringing up fan service stuff. My favorite joke to come out of this is the insinuation that they have a friend who loved spying on people with birds, and quickly after we see an owl randomly flying away. Chirp spying on the two feels right. 

I can imagine an epilogue that begins with Chirp walking through an orgy that’s been going on for concurrently 18 hours.

Chirp: COUSIN! LADY BINX AND PILLAR BOY ARE IN LOVE AND WANT TO KILL THE PRINCE’S MOTHER!”

Squak: THAT SOUNDS MARVELOUS, COUSIN, BUT I’M QUITE BUSY!

(Squak continues sniffing powder out of Theodore’s ass, Advisor is also there.)

(I also belief their grandfather is dead and Gobble killed him and is doing a weekend at bernie’s thing)

If there was anything I found off about ACOFAF’s finale, it’s that Binxhera as a working partnership seemed a little oddly over-stacked towards serving the court of craft. Even though the Craft Court needs and deserves it, I liked the idea of Binx committing to helping the unseelie. It balances their partnership just a little more, even though the Court of Craft is (and should be) their first objective.

In the rewrites because of last chapter’s change, I included more bits here about Andhera being uncertain about their mother. Like he had just witnessed something he’d never seen before, so his perspective on the Queen has changed. I don’t think this would necessarily turn into a “Redemption story” for the Queen, because she she doesn’t want it, but I like this conflict for Andhera to grapple with. He might decide that he can’t save his mother, but perhaps there’s someone else he can save.

Anyways, while this fanfic has alot of “Sequel Set-Ups” it is not my intention to necessarily write a sequel to this. I might do the Grabalba Wedding fic I mentioned before, but I feel I have too many blind spots when it comes to ACOFAF’s lore, that I’m worried I’d have to make up too much material that wasn’t there. And also, I fell really hard for Binxhera, but I’m not that close to Ruehob or the Lords of the Wing, so I feel those relationships and characters would be difficult to pull off. Like how would someone continue the Green Hunter joke? It’s a perfect improv joke of Lou just adding on to his random detail, and that’s why it’s incredible.

Tell me what you think. Did you like the story? It really means alot that you took the time to read it.

[narcissawilted]

n a r c i s s a   l u c r e t i a   b l a c k

basics:

name: narcissa lucretia black. pronunciation: naar·si·suh  loo·kree·shuh   blak. meaning: narcissa- daffodil, narcissism, numb. lucretia- to succeed, wealth. birthday: october 3rd. age: eighteen. pronouns: she & her. sexuality: heterosexual. siblings: bellatrix black, andromeda black. parents: cygnus black, druella black nee rosier. other family: orion black (uncle), walburga black (aunt), alphard black (uncle), sirius black (cousin), regulus black (cousin), evan rosier (cousin). languages: english, french, spanish, greek, gaelic, russian. current residence: walden macnair’s home. hometown: norfolk.

wizard fun:

hogwarts house: slytherin. year of graduation: 1979. occupation: socialite. pet: two pet snakes named ophelia and desdemona. blood status: pureblood. species: witch. patronus: luna moth. luna moths represent rebirth, renewal of body and spirit, regeneration and may even symbolize the soul itself. luna moths, like many types of moths and butterflies, are quite beautiful in appearance and have docile personalities. their physical beauty and charm make these large moths symbols of reflection, nourishment and life. boggart: narcissa’s greatest fear is always feeling as powerless, controlled, and alone as she has been for the majority of her life. she sees so many people, even lowly mudbloods, with friends and love and warmth in their lives, but she doesn’t have it. she’s so afraid she never will. amortentia:   snow. the crisp, biting scent that hits your nose the second that you step foot outside the morning after a fresh snow is one of narcissa’s favorite things in the world. especially if it’s the first snow of the year. something about that is just so different and special. she couldn’t quite put into words the way winter made her feel. christmas garland. christmas was always exciting to narcissa because it meant that there would be more people in the household than just her sisters and parents. she loved seeing her aunts and uncles and grandparents and cousins, especially when they brought her presents. she also loved how much effort went into decorating their home for the holidays with garland, wreaths, candles, tinsel, and charms. narcissa was nothing if not a connoisseur of beauty. peppermint. narcissa, nor any of the Black sisters, were allowed sweets growing up. druella insisted that it would make them fat and lazy and completely undesirable. as a result, the closest thing they were allowed to have was peppermints, and narcissa went overboard on them. she almost always keeps a tin of them next to her bed. wand type: 12 1/3″, pine wood wand with a unicorn hair core, understandably delicate. pine is a quiet wood, not powerful, not weak. it is a softwood, and thus has a bit more yield, making it more inclined to a quick-learning but less powerful wands. it is, however, excellent for divination. pine wands choose independent, individual masters who may be perceived as loners, intriguing, and perhaps mysterious. pine wands enjoy being used creatively, and unlike some others, will adapt unprotestingly to new methods and spells. many wandmakers insist that pine wands are able to detect, and perform best for, owners who are destined for long lives, including garrick ollivander who had never personally known the master of a pine wand to die young. the pine wand is one of those that is most sensitive to non-verbal magic. delicate wands are a special case. it takes special care to learn spells with this wand, but it is rarely extremely powerful. they tend to choose witches and wizards with somewhat frail personalities, and once a spell is learned, although it is not as strong, it is extremely reliable. unicorn hair can be used in wandmaking; they produce the most consistent magic, least subject to fluctuations and blockages, most difficult to turn to the dark arts and the most faithful of wands. however, they do not make the most powerful of wands and are prone to melancholy if mishandled.  affiliation: narcissa is loyal only to her family.

appearance:

height: 5′6″. hair color: pale blonde. eye color: mint green. typical hair style: parted in the center and hangs straight to her shoulders. fashion style: narcissa wears only the color black unless it is a very special occasion. she only wears skirts and dresses, no pants. she prefers a short black dress with a high neckline and no sleeves with a late modern appearance. cissy wears boots with a heels most often. she has a love for jewelry that looks like bugs. [ fashion ] distinguishing features: narcissa is known for being pale and icy in appearance and demeanor, but strikingly beautiful especially against the darkness usually around her. her eyes are hawklike and intelligent, but the rest of her expression is almost always unreadable. she has no blemishes to speak of, but a scar on her thigh and one on her collarbone.

personality:

positive traits: maternal. thoughtful. observant. negative traits: icy. haughty. deceitful. theme song: behind blue eyes by the who

headcanons:

narcissa likes bugs and insects decidedly more than she likes most people. there has never been a time when she wasn’t completely enamored and fascinated by the often spurned creatures. in her opinion, they are by far the most beautiful and stunning creatures. she has extensive knowledge of them and has created a haven for all manner of insects in the greenhouse at black manor.

narcissa has always secretly dreamed of going to study dragons in romania. she’s always loved them and been fascinated by them. however, she knows that would never be allowed so she would never voice it out loud. in fact, only a handful of people even realize how much she loves the creatures. 

christmas is decidedly narcissa favorite time of the year. it is the one time that she allows herself to warm up and be totally enraptured by the holiday. her face will light up as bright as any tinseled tree. she will spend hours out in the snow and picks her presents meticulously for everyone she deems deserves one.

biography:

From the moment she entered this world, during that liminal time before the sun has risen, but the sky is still lighter than in the depths of the night, Narcissa was the antithesis to the traditional Blacks. Where her sisters, mother, father, cousins had dark hair, sharp features, cutting eyes, and venomous mouths, Narcissa was a ghost; soft, curved, delicate, haunting.

The third and final disappointment to Cygnus the Third who so desperately wanted a son, Narcissa was all but ignored by her father from the beginning. If he wasn’t presenting her with a lavishly expensive doll or gown, he didn’t care to talk to his youngest. Bellatrix was the apple of his eye.

Alternatively, Druella became enamoured with their fair daughter. Her features were unlike any others in the family, and Druella valued two things above all else; beauty and how that beauty can be useful to her. Before Narcissa was even capable of speech, she had a string of pearls too tight around her neck like a collar that her mother used to remind her that her grasp was inescapable. Her youth consisted of years of lessons, tutors, and strict schedules. Even by Fitzwilliam Darcy standards, Narcissa would be considered an accomplished young lady. The better she became at any given task, the more her mother demanded of her. There was no such thing as perfect to Druella, only more to improve upon. That was the beginning of Narcissa’s deceptions. She was certain to never show how talented she was, and let her family believe she was completely average.

She envied Andromeda, whose quiet nature and subdued appearance made her free of their parents tutelage. The middle child was left to her own devices and could go as she pleased throughout the day. If ever given a moment, Narcissa would soon enough steal away to a private corner of the attic, basement, or garden with an old tome from the Black’s personal library. Of course, her respites never lasted too long. The house elves, her sisters, or even her mother would find her and drag her back into the endless lessons. Narcissa never complained. She did all that her mother asked, biding her time.

The solitary light at the end of the tunnel was Hogwarts. Bellatrix had gone, Andromeda had gone, and Narcissa had been left solitary for a year, yearning for the day she’d be able to board the train at King’s Cross Station and disappear to a year away from her suffocating mother. It occurred to her a few months before she was meant to leave for school that perhaps her mother wouldn’t allow it. She even thought she’d overheard Druella begging Cygnus to let her homeschool Narcissa for the rest of her academic career, but thankfully, he’d sternly refuted his wife. Narcissa needed to be sociable and influential at school if the Black family was to continue its powerful grip on society.

Druella wept when Narcissa packed her trunk for her first year. She’d been distraught about her youngest daughter leaving for weeks. Their mother kept wringing her hands and proclaiming that she had no idea what she would do with her time now. Narcissa feigned regret for leaving and assured her mother that she’d find some way to fill her time. However, Narcissa had never been more excited to experience the freedom that came with school. From the moment she stepped on the train, it felt as if a world lifted from her shoulders. Even her pearl necklace didn’t feel quite so strangling.

Narcissa sat in a compartment with Andromeda and a few of her classmates instead of trying to find other first years to talk to. Frankly, she appreciated simply looking at the scenery as they went along. She enjoyed just sitting and being without having to do anything. Andromeda warned her that there would be people at Hogwarts who would have heard of her, and there would be plenty of rumors about her and her family, but Narcissa didn’t care. They could say that she was the devil incarnate, and she’d still be excited to hear a voice that wasn’t her mother’s saying it.

After the sorting ceremony, she began to realize the full implications of her sister’s warning. She unpacked her trunk in the Slytherin dormitory with the rest of the first year girls and attempted to make her first friends. They all smiled until names were exchanged. She heard the whispers when her back was turned. They only intensified when the eldest Black sister appeared to check on Narcissa her first day. After a quick greeting and good luck, Bellatrix told the rest of the Slytherin girls to be nice to her sister or else. As kind as the gesture had meant to be, it assured Narcissa a rather lonely first year. Even those who wanted to suck up to a Black sister didn’t bother to talk to Narcissa for fear of invoking Bellatrix’s wrath. Not to mention, Andromeda came off far more personable- an easier friend.

Narcissa threw herself into learning who she actually was. She had plenty of free time without friends to worry about and without her mother’s constant presence, though she did have to dedicate a portion of her week to responding to her mother’s letters. She decided to have average marks in her classes despite fully understanding the material and even studying further than what the classes required. It was to her advantage the world continued to see her as the beautiful sister. While the rumors about her spread even more, Narcissa became more and more lonely. She decided to play into the persona that everyone had created for her.

Her school life continued as such until the middle of her third year. Narcissa began to study legillimancies and occlumencies. She was very good at it. Disturbingly good at it. During the middle of the night, she began to explore the innermost thoughts of her schoolmates, professors, and anyone else she thought would be interesting to understand. The more accomplished she became, the more willing she was to do what was ethically questionable. The more ethically questionable her decisions became the more her curiosity for the darker arts and divination became. However, her studies no longer fill that space in her that craves connection.

Things changed when she agreed to an engagement with Lucius Malfoy prior to her graduation from Hogwarts. He was one of the few to ever see through her facades, and managed to melt away a bit of her ice over the years. However, it was soon revealed that he’d been promised to her by her father from the beginning making everything a lie. This enraged the girl who promptly called off the engagement and absconded from her parents home. While the Blacks are trying their best to keep this a secret, Narcissa has been well hidden from everyone looking to pull her back into the fold.

[hauntedblonde]

__________________________narcissa lucretia black.

age & birthday. fifteen, october 3rd.

sign. libra.

house & year. slytherin, fifth year.

blood status. purest blood.

character pronouns. she, her.

sexuality. heterosexual

siblings. bellatrix black, andromeda black.

other relations. cygnus black and druella black nee rosier - parents, orion black and walburga black - uncle and aunt, sirius black and regulus black - cousins, evan rosier - cousin, rodolphus lestrange - sister’s fiance.

clubs. slug club

favorite classes. herbology, divinations, astrology, potions.

least favorite classes. transfiguration, defense against the dark arts.

height. 5′6″

hair colour. pale blonde.

eye colour. pale green.

hair style. parted in the center and hangs straight to her shoulders.

fashion style. narcissa wears only the color black unless she is in her school uniform or it is a very special occasion. she only wears skirts and dresses, no pants. she prefers a short black dress with a high neckline and no sleeves with a late modern appearance. cissy wears boots with a heels most often. she has a love for jewelry that looks like bugs. [ fashion board ]

distinguishing features. narcissa is known for being pale and icy in appearance and demeanor, but strikingly beautiful especially against the darkness usually around her. her eyes are hawklike and intelligent, but the rest of her expression is almost always unreadable. she has no blemishes to speak of, but a scar on her thigh and one on her collarbone.

______________________________wand.

12 1/3″, pine wood wand with a unicorn hair core, understandably delicate.

Pine is a quiet wood, not powerful, not weak. It is a softwood, and thus has a bit more yield, making it more inclined to a quick-learning but less powerful wands. It is, however, excellent for Divination. Pine Wands choose independent, individual masters who may be perceived as loners, intriguing, and perhaps mysterious. Pine wands enjoy being used creatively, and unlike some others, will adapt unprotestingly to new methods and spells. Many wandmakers insist that pine wands are able to detect, and perform best for, owners who are destined for long lives, including Garrick Ollivander who had never personally known the master of a pine wand to die young. The pine wand is one of those that is most sensitive to non-verbal magic. Delicate wands are a special case. It takes special care to learn spells with this wand, but it is rarely extremely powerful. They tend to choose witches and wizards with somewhat frail personalities, and once a spell is learned, although it is not as strong, it is extremely reliable.

Unicorn hair can be used in wandmaking; they produce the most consistent magic, least subject to fluctuations and blockages, most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts and the most faithful of wands. However, they do not make the most powerful of wands and are prone to melancholy if mishandled.

______________________________pets.

Narcissa has two pet snakes named Ophelia and Desdemona.

______________________________amortentia.

Snow.

The crisp, biting scent that hits your nose the second that you step foot outside the morning after a fresh snow is one of Narcissa’s favorite things in the world. Especially if it’s the first snow of the year. Something about that is just so different and special. She couldn’t quite put into words the way winter made her feel.

Christmas Garland.

Christmas was always exciting to Narcissa because it meant that there would be more people in the household than just her sisters and parents. She loved seeing her Aunts and Uncles and Grandparents and Cousins, especially when they brought her presents. She also loved how much effort went into decorating their home for the holidays with garland, wreaths, candles, tinsel, and charms. Narcissa was nothing if not a connoisseur of beauty.

Peppermint.

Narcissa, nor any of the Black sisters, were allowed sweets growing up. Druella insisted that it would make them fat and lazy and completely undesirable. As a result, the closest thing they were allowed to have was peppermints, and Narcissa went overboard on them. She almost always keeps a tin of them next to her bed.

______________________________boggart.

Narcissa’s greatest fear is always feeling as powerless, controlled, and alone as she has been for the majority of her life. She sees so many people, even lowly mudbloods, with friends and love and warmth in their lives, but she doesn’t have it. She’s so afraid she never will.

______________________________patronus.

luna moth.

Luna moths represent rebirth, renewal of body and spirit, regeneration and may even symbolize the soul itself. Luna moths, like many types of moths and butterflies, are quite beautiful in appearance and have docile personalities. Their physical beauty and charm make these large moths symbols of reflection, nourishment and life.

______________________________biography.

From the moment she entered this world, during that liminal time before the sun has risen, but the sky is still lighter than in the depths of the night, Narcissa was the antithesis to the traditional Blacks. Where her sisters, mother, father, cousins had dark hair, sharp features, cutting eyes, and venomous mouths, Narcissa was a ghost; soft, curved, delicate, haunting. 

The third and final disappointment to Cygnus the Third who so desperately wanted a son, Narcissa was all but ignored by her father from the beginning. If he wasn’t presenting her with a lavishly expensive doll or gown, he didn’t care to talk to his youngest. Bellatrix was the apple of his eye.

Alternatively, Druella became enamoured with their fair daughter. Her features were unlike any others in the family, and Druella valued two things above all else; beauty and how that beauty can be useful to her. Before Narcissa was even capable of speech, she had a string of pearls too tight around her neck like a collar that her mother used to remind her that her grasp was inescapable. Her youth consisted of years of lessons, tutors, and strict schedules. Even by Fitzwilliam Darcy standards, Narcissa would be considered an accomplished young lady. The better she became at any given task, the more her mother demanded of her. There was no such thing as perfect to Druella, only more to improve upon. That was the beginning of Narcissa’s deceptions. She was certain to never show how talented she was, and let her family believe she was completely average.

She envied Andromeda, whose quiet nature and subdued appearance made her free of their parents tutelage. The middle child was left to her own devices and could go as she pleased throughout the day. If ever given a moment, Narcissa would soon enough steal away to a private corner of the attic, basement, or garden with an old tome from the Black’s personal library. Of course, her respites never lasted too long. The house elves, her sisters, or even her mother would find her and drag her back into the endless lessons. Narcissa never complained. She did all that her mother asked, biding her time.

The solitary light at the end of the tunnel was Hogwarts. Bellatrix had gone, Andromeda had gone, and Narcissa had been left solitary for a year, yearning for the day she’d be able to board the train at King’s Cross Station and disappear to a year away from her suffocating mother. It occurred to her a few months before she was meant to leave for school that perhaps her mother wouldn’t allow it. She even thought she’d overheard Druella begging Cygnus to let her homeschool Narcissa for the rest of her academic career, but thankfully, he’d sternly refuted his wife. Narcissa needed to be sociable and influential at school if the Black family was to continue its powerful grip on society.

Druella wept when Narcissa packed her trunk for her first year. She’d been distraught about her youngest daughter leaving for weeks. Their mother kept wringing her hands and proclaiming that she had no idea what she would do with her time now. Narcissa feigned regret for leaving and assured her mother that she’d find some way to fill her time. However, Narcissa had never been more excited to experience the freedom that came with school. From the moment she stepped on the train, it felt as if a world lifted from her shoulders. Even her pearl necklace didn’t feel quite so strangling. 

Narcissa sat in a compartment with Andromeda and a few of her classmates instead of trying to find other first years to talk to. Frankly, she appreciated simply looking at the scenery as they went along. She enjoyed just sitting and being without having to do anything. Andromeda warned her that there would be people at Hogwarts who would have heard of her, and there would be plenty of rumors about her and her family, but Narcissa didn’t care. They could say that she was the devil incarnate, and she’d still be excited to hear a voice that wasn’t her mother’s saying it.

After the sorting ceremony, she began to realize the full implications of her sister’s warning. She unpacked her trunk in the Slytherin dormitory with the rest of the first year girls and attempted to make her first friends. They all smiled until names were exchanged. She heard the whispers when her back was turned. They only intensified when the eldest Black sister appeared to check on Narcissa her first day. After a quick greeting and good luck, Bellatrix told the rest of the Slytherin girls to be nice to her sister or else. As kind as the gesture had meant to be, it assured Narcissa a rather lonely first year. Even those who wanted to suck up to a Black sister didn’t bother to talk to Narcissa for fear of invoking Bellatrix’s wrath. Not to mention, Andromeda came off far more personable- an easier friend.

Narcissa threw herself into learning who she actually was. She had plenty of free time without friends to worry about and without her mother’s constant presence, though she did have to dedicate a portion of her week to responding to her mother’s letters. She decided to have average marks in her classes despite fully understanding the material and even studying further than what the classes required. It was to her advantage the world continued to see her as the beautiful sister. While the rumors about her spread even more, Narcissa became more and more lonely. She decided to play into the persona that everyone had created for her. 

Her school life continued as such until the middle of her fourth year. Narcissa began to study legillimancies and occlumencies. She was very good at it. Disturbingly good at it. During the middle of the night, she began to explore the innermost thoughts of her schoolmates, sisters, and anyone else she thought would be interesting to understand. The more accomplished she became, the more willing she was to do what was ethically questionable. The more ethically questionable her decisions became the more her curiosity for the darker arts and divination became. However, her studies no longer fill that space in her that craves connection. Is this the year that she finally finds someone she can connect with or will she be the lone princess locked away in her castle forever?

[aerislunam]

Eastern Cottontail / Sylvilagus floridanus

Facts of Interest

Crepuscular feeders - most active during twilight.

Some crepuscular animals may be more active on a moonlit night or during an overcast day. 

Cottontails are active when visibility is limited, such as rainy or foggy nights. 

Way more similar to Brown Hare/European Hare than other rabbit species in that they

do not burrow; lay in “forms” - depressions in the ground

are solitary, yet also have some sense of community (will warn others of danger)

Aggressive, territorial - males fight other males for females, females will fight other females for control of territory.

They have 17,000 taste buds - can taste and enjoy more intense flavor and subtleties in their food than humans can ever image.

Used to inhabit only deserts, swamps and hardwood forests, as well as rainforests and boreal forests. In current times, it prefers edge environments between woody vegetation and open land.

Its range of habitats includes meadows, orchards, farmlands, hedgerows and areas with second growth shrubs, vines and low deciduous trees.

Their diet varies between seasons due to availability. In the summer, green plants are favored. About 50% of the cottontail's intake is grasses, including bluegrass and wild rye. Other summer favorites are wild strawberry, clover and garden vegetables.

In the winter, the cottontail subsists on woody plant parts, including the twigs, bark and buds of oak, dogwood, sumac, maple and birch. As the snow accumulates, cottontails have access to the higher trunk and branches. 

Folklore & Mythology (Rabbits and in some extension Hares, as well)

“In many mythic traditions these animals were archetypal symbols of femininity, associated with the lunar cycle, fertility, longevity and rebirth. But if we dig a little deeper into their stories we find that they are also contradictory, paradoxical creatures: symbols of both cleverness and foolishness, of femininity and androgyny, of cowardice and courage, of rampant sexuality and virginal purity. In some lands, Hare is the messenger of the Great Goddess; in other lands he is a god himself, wily deceiver and sacred world creator rolled into one.”

- Terri Winding in "The Symbolism of Rabbits and Hares" 

Brer Rabbit is a trickster character found in African, African-American, and Native American folktales. 

“The rabbit in Algonguian folklore was a trickster whose name was cognate with dawn and whose behavior reversed the order of nature as it was originally created, causing problems for those who followed. In the story of the Potawatomi Medicine Society the land of the dead was ruled by Chipiapoos, whose name translates as Corpse Rabbit. The Potomac Great Hare ruled the land of spirits and dwelled in the east where the sun rose.”

- “An Archaeology of the Soul: North American Indian Belief and Ritual” by Robert L. Hall

My Thoughts

When I first got the urge to look into rabbits and hares, I was expecting the typical “fertility,” “lunar,” “spring goddess” symbolism that most people think of when they think of these animals. After I started reading more about their biology, and their true natures, I was fascinated and intrigued at the amount of unassuming fierceness these guys have. 

Rabbits and Hares in the context of Trickster folklore of the Americas resemble very similar to Coyote. In biology/ecology, they are both edge animals living off the hedgerows, the liminal here and there, and also neither-nor. They are paradoxical. They are typically shapeshifters, and are associated with the spirit world and “reverse-order behavior.” Also like Coyote, they are very good at surviving and thriving in the world of humans. And have become known as pests, at the same time. 

To me, through reading into the existing Native lore and ecology of the two animals, I feel this very faint thread between them. Almost like two sides of the same similar spirit coin.

Rabbit seems to be way more connected to the Underworld than Coyote, however. Perhaps because most rabbit species burrow and live underground. Closer to the dead. Coyotes will use dens, but will often use found dens instead of tunnel systems like Rabbits. 

The Eastern Cottontail, however, do not burrow. They are more similar to their cousins the Hare and Jackrabbits in that they do not burrow to make dens. They will be more often found in depressions in grass, or under logs. In Illinois, we find their young a lot in our yards and people have to be very careful not to run over the poor little guys with the lawnmower! 

On to the magic...

Being Crepuscular animals, Eastern Cottontails (and Hares) are more active during the twilight hours, and bonus points if the evening has low visibility in general. This is good to stay off the radar of predators that may be looking for a high visibility night to go hunting wabbits. 

The fire flies, moths, and rabbits are coming out. Twilight is the liminal time between day and night, the blending of one world and the next, where the unexpected can happen, where magic is worked and woven, and where some spirits are said to tread easier (such as the fae) closer to work with us. The Eastern Cottontail is a natural in-betweener, living at the edge of their environments, and perhaps can teach a lesson or two on how to better tune in to this time of day-night. Of which, their large sensitive ears, whiskers, and big deep eyes are adept at aiding them.  

Another thing is their amazing trait to detect flavors between different plants, something we can’t even vaguely imagine. Calling upon this idea may allow you to think more carefully on herbal use, and also to be more aware of the plants in your local. What can you use in your backyard? What can you use, what can you learn about in a parking lot? Near a riverwalk? At a campground? You don’t need to ingest or apply plants to learn about them, get to know their spirits, what they’re all about. Most people gaze out into a community park or neighborhood and just see “green.” Trees, shrubs, maybe some pink and white flowers. Open your eyes wider. How much can you actually see? Use your senses to see just how diverse the plant population around you really is. 

Another point to bring to attention is that they will find food in any season, but are often left with more woody plants and bark to eat during the winter. This may be a “beggars can’t be choosers” lesson, or even a “take your opportunity and be grateful for it.” Cottontails do not hibernate, so they need to take every opportunity they can get to feed and house themselves through the colder months. 

As mentioned before, these animals are unassumingly fierce. They look innocent, even anxious, and they may be some of the time... but between each other, they fiercely fight. These are the true unexpected warriors.  They kick, spit, growl, scratch, “box”, chase off. They are extremely territorial and both males and females fight with each other. They are solitary most of the time, but are not too fierce against each other to warn of a predator or impending threat. 

Perhaps look to them for a time when you have to stand your ground against your own peers, and stand up for what you believe in. Or simply just to protect your territory, literally or figuratively. 

On the other hand, they know when to keep their energy close and save it for when they need it the most. Eastern Cottontails can lay still in a hiding place for up to 15 minutes at a time, especially during the day or while hiding from predators. They don’t know when they will need to activate their literal fight-or-flight, and often have a lot to lose if they are going up against something larger than themselves.  

When they do need to get up and go, they use their fur coloring to their advantage to blend into their environment.��And spring away fast in a zig-zag pattern, as to give a predator the least amount of chance to grab hold of them. Perhaps one could use these elements to their benefit in a protection sigil, or glamour spell to seem more unassuming. 

References & Credits

http://www.terriwindling.com/blog/2014/12/the-folklore-of-rabbits-hares.html

http://www.americanfolklore.net/folklore/brer-rabbit/

https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Folk-Lore_Journal/Volume_1/The_Hare_in_Folk-lore

https://books.google.com/books?id=yUvbvgFakkwC

http://animaldiversity.org/accounts/Sylvilagus_floridanus/

https://www.psu.edu/dept/nkbiology/naturetrail/speciespages/cottontail.htm

https://extension.psu.edu/managing-habitat-for-eastern-cottontails

https://www.massaudubon.org/learn/nature-wildlife/mammals/cottontail-rabbits/about

https://www.the-digital-picture.com

[shardclan]

The Sundial Brewery was different after Cassis left, but not half so much as it was after Shiraz had descended to take his place. While Cassis had been a jolly crooner that brightened the mood, Shiraz was an idol that could bring out a frenetic, edgy energy in the patrons of the Brewery. Both of them were natural born entertainers, but it was very obvious why Shiraz occasionally did concerts at Bramble Step while Cassis had been content to play soulful yet light-hearted music by the riverbend.

Carnelian and Arcanus sat with their backs to the bar, sipping thougtfully in the company of the equally bemused owners. Cloudwhyte and Alchemilla weren't used to this sort of energy. As far as they were concerned, they ran a quiet bar that happened to keep musicians on hand for mood music, but the vibe had suddenly become that of a concert hall. Shiraz was strutting and stomping and wailing all up and down a range that was bafflingly powerful at every note. Even considering he was a nocturne didn't make it less astonishing. Shiraz had taken his natural talent for mimicry and made something amazing out of it. The crowd around him seemed to lean back every time he released more of his voice, literally being blown away by it, and with every pause for breath they rushed back in for more.

And though Shiraz' performance was technically a Trickmurk event (for those who didn't have the fortitude for the kind of celebrations Bramble Step was having), right at the front was Stellaria, flushed, bright-eyed and dazzled in a way she usually only was after she'd gotten in a fight. Verbena and young Rebis were bouncing along to the music beside her on one side while on the other Xandina was showing a surprising lack of bodily coordination for a hunter. Eos had come with them, despite being totally out of their element. Shiraz' style was too much for their already high-strung and nervous baseline state and rather than join the thrashing crowd, they'd opted for a single glass of wine that had overpowered them in a very different way.

Carnelian leaned back and shouted over his shoulder to the owners. "Where's Merlot?"

"She's taken Cassis leaving pretty hard," Cloudwhyte answered with a shrug. "New partners are hard for skydancers. If she doesn't like what she feels from Shiraz or the energy he generates when they work together, she won't sing with him."

Carnelian glanced thoughtfully at Shiraz, and a moth-eaten memory of a very different musician arose. "How'd she get on with Rime?"

"Rime had nothing on Shiraz," Alchemilla balked. "Rime was a mad scientist hiding in a musician's body!"

"Doesn't answer my question."

"What? Oh, I dunno, they got on okay, I guess? Rime was a screamer and Merlot's voice sounds the way top shelf brandy tastes so it's not like they ever sang together."

Carnelian hummed into his glass and nudged Arcanus. "You'll bore a hole through her if you keep staring."

Arcanus ignored the jibe and kept his eyes on his niece. "I understand the two of you had a talk."

Carnelian pressed his lips together, and patiently reasoned to himself that Arcanus hadn't asked about Atsushi at all and that was behavior that should be rewarded. "We did. Ironed some things out."

"I gather. She looks happy." He smiled faintly. "You know Ashes is jealous."

"Of what?!" Carnelian snorted. "I'm not her dad!"

"When did I mention anything about her being your daughter?" Arcanus asked innocently, just barely hiding a smirk. "She knows who and where her dad is--it's not a hole that needs filling." He dipped his head over toward the snugly sleeping figure of Eos. "But she's been very fond you since the event with the pearlcatcher scroll."

"Fuck off, that girl doesn't love anybody as much as she loves her Uncle Arcanus."

"She relies on you," Arcanus pressed smoothly. "And that's something that Ashes can't say. He's great for an inquiry about magic, but no honest person would call him reliable."

Carnelian stared at his friend with a curled lip and a tight fist. He couldn't get a rise out of him tonight and it was starting to piss him off. Even though he smiled and talked and phrased his words in just the right way to pick at Carnelian's nerves, Arcanus was poorly concealing an unusual anxiety.

"You're killing my mood," he accused. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm not sure."

Carnelian drained the rest of his drink with a mutter curse before dragging Arcanus out of the bar onto the open streets of Noon Point. The crowds of celebrating shadow dragons were dying down for the day, migrating to Bramble Step where they could cut loose and cut throat if it came to that. The queen was likely around somewhere with Bestialcian in tow, but Trickmurk was the one elemental holiday she didn't offer any kind of official celebratory address. They didn't hatch shadow eggs either--the last one had been Ilkilides and that had been more than enough to let them know that Aphaster was on poor terms with the Binder. 

To keep out of the way of the milling crowd, Carnelian pulled them into the mouth of an alley where they could speak in private. "Did something happen between you and...?" 

"No."

Carnelian squinted at the way Arcanus very noticeably didn't turn red. "Holy shit, did you actually get over her--ah, wait, no, there it is, you're blushing. False alarm."

"There are other things I concern myself with!" Arcanus insisted with what remaining dignity he had.

Carnelian shrugged and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. "To me they don't exist until you tell me what they are."

Arcanus crossed his arms. "I don't know yet. I would express it to you if I could, Carnelian, as my confidante."

"Easy on the flattery,” he mumbled over the cigarette. “So you just got a bad feeling?"

"An uneasiness, yes. An agitation I cant soothe with will or distraction."

"Spring is coming." He held his hands up peaceably to fend off the weary glare Arcanus shot him. "I'm not joking. Spring gets weird when you care about someone."

Something about the way he said it left Arcanus faintly wondering when Ismene was born. He had never asked. He probably never would. "I don't think that's it," he murmured. "Lately everything seems..." His brow creased with the strain of finding the right word, but to no avail. "I'm unsure. All I know is that I feel relief seeing that both you and my family are settled."

"Okay, whats your best guess why that might be?"

Arcanus looked around while he thought, which was in itself a tell. Sure, he'd loosened up a lot since they became close, but he was still a knight. His day job was to be a menacing presence at the queen’s back while showing little to no sign of personal emotion about the politics.

Carnelian wondered, not for the first time, if Arcanus' emotional trouble wasn't just a side effect of boredom. The Isles were unpredictable, you could lose a charge permanently during a simple walk in the woods or forget entirely that you had one because of a bad storm near the Liminal Band. He probably never had the time to have a bad feeling over something that didn't make itself known within the next few hours.

"I dont want to say it," the guardian finally admitted. "I don’t want to speak it."

Carnelian bobbed his head. "Something that bad you don’t want to give the universe ideas? I get that."

"You should remember that the universe will get ideas whether you speak them or not."

Carnelian leaned out with a snarl on his lips and a curse on his tongue, and both fizzled when he saw the distinctive match of a water emblem over Arcane eyes. Kiele was perhaps the rarest seen of all the witches of the Starwood coven. Being water-touched and a choosing to live as a witch had left her in a similar position to Tungsten, but while Tungsten had to use carefully applied ice magic, Kiele had Faded. She could never know when a vision might suddenly strike, but she had eons worth of Faded's magic laced as delicate as frost over her mind. Neither of them had known much about her to begin with, but like all young dragons who became witches, she wasn't the same dragon she had been before. It was hard to miss the family resemblance she shared with Kea, but that was about all they had in common.

"I'm pretty sure eavesdropping during Trickmurk is considered sacrilege," Carnelian muttered, leaning back into the shadows.

"...I'm clairvoyant," she deadpanned. "I don't think I was ever gonna win any points with shadowlings." She tossed her chin at Arcanus. "Besides, the knight's right."

"Is he now." The flicker of a match momentarily lit Carnelian's dour expression. "Some more business with the spirits?"

"There is plenty on this plane to make a keen man wary. The boy agrees with me."

Carnelian and Arcanus both exchanged a look of confusion, and leaned out together to find Apokathisto idling in one of the charming little nooks in the cafe’s facade with a half-demolished slice of aggressively violet black woods cake. He had the look of someone who was deeply embarrassed but was trying to pretend otherwise--which, combined with the smear of blackberry preserves on his chin, only made him look more guilty.

"How long have you been there?"

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I was just trying to eat my cake..."

"How long. Have you been there."

"...The whole time."

Both men glared accusingly at each other in a furious but silent exchange. Carnelian was a detective, he stalked people all the time, he should have noticed a gawky adolescent  hanging around; and Arcanus was supposed to be aware of his surroundings, he was the queen's knight after all. But it was a holiday and they were both a little drunk, so they made peace with a sigh.

"I thought it was odd to not see you around with Rebis here," Arcanus admitted. "Why aren't you in there with them?"

Apokathisto wilted and pushed sullenly at his cake. "There's no boys my age and I don't like the music."

It was hard not to sympathize with an answer like that. Even when they lived in the Isles, the clan had always had an unusually high number of female hatchlings, and that hadn't changed. Phage, Foster, Katiyana, and Lamium were the closest Apokathisto had to same-sex peers and they were, in order, a terrible influence, infamously shy, disinterested in dragons that weren't Zo or his relatives, and friendly but troubled. It shed a very lonely light on the situation.

Arcanus cleared his throat as subtly as he could, and Carnelian took the hint with a raised brow but nothing else. There was a short shriek as he threw Kiele under his arm and stalked off with her as though she were a just an unruly bag of potatoes, but it was quickly muffled by Shiraz' performance and the natural noise of the thoroughfare.

Not long ago, Apokathisto would have held Arcanus' hand as they walked, but he was getting to be that age where he felt such a thing was childish. It was often forgotten but Arcanus had been the caretaker and protector of dozens of hatchlings and watched over several into their adulthood. The behaviors of fledglings were no mystery to him, and the basic ability to respect their turbulent, often contradictory feelings made him very popular among adolescents. It was just rare anyone got to see it. But sure enough, as soon as they had passed beyond Noon Point and were alone on the walkways through the Summerlands, Apokathisto began walking a lot closer to him.

"You've been uneasy too?" the boy asked.

"I have," Arcanus answered honestly. "But I'm old and I've seen a lot and I have to wrestle with that myself. Children shouldn't be so troubled. What's wrong?"

Apokathisto grabbed a dried out stalk and snapped pieces from it as they walked. "I don't want to speak it."

"Has anyone harmed you?"

Snap. "No."

"Has anyone made you feel threatened?"

Snap. "No."

"Do you feel that you're in danger in any way?"

Snap.

Snap.

Snap. "I don't know."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Apokathisto threw the last of the stalk away. "I don’t know."

Arcanus stopped them both, and knelt to look into Apokathisto's eyes. The boy always wore difficult expressions, but he usually wore them openly--now he seemed evasive, as if he didn't want it to show that something weighed on him. "I won't press you. But if you think of anything I can do, I hope you'll tell me."

At that, the boy did meet his eyes. They were striking as always--with their blue-white streaks like shooting stars, and the intensity of them was enough to catch even Arcanus off guard. There was anger in him; confusion and fear. "Is something going to happen to me?"

"Something like what?"

"I don't know...!" he cried pitifully.

The boy's face was going red. Again, Arcanus felt a poignant sympathy for the boy. If he was dealing with the same worrying unease that Arcanus was, it wasn't a wonder he was so upset. He was already so wary by nature, and he didn't seem to have anyone to confide in. He was frustrated and frightened, and in that moment Arcanus knew what it felt like to be Hart--to want nothing more than to be at Apokathisto's side and reassure him that he was safe. But to promise that would have been to lie in the boy's face in his moment of vulnerability.

"You know that my charge must come first," he said apologetically. "I cannot vow to protect you from all things at all times. But I can swear to you that I would never ignore it if I so much as suspected anything was going to happen to you."

It wasn't the most reassuring answer, but it was the truth. For a boy like Apokathisto, that was far more important. Though he wasn't crying, Arcanus turned his back and let the boy have a moment to collect himself and rebuild his idea of a mature demeanor before they continued along the quiet footpath.

At some point, Apokathisto quietly took Arcanus' hand and didn't let go.

[churchyardgrim]

what I’ve got so far for the worldbuilding doc!!! no organization, just stream-of-consciousness stuff and notetaking. it’s good! it’s really good!

“live” spells, spells that mutate and interact with each other in passive ways, but build up changes over time

gotta renew that shit, magic pressed into shape wears out over time and use, it’s got a finite shelf life

travel is a tricky thing; it counts as a liminal space, it’s “slippery” to magic. travel is unstable, by definition travel spells don’t stay put or behave properly, and it seems to be tied to the very act of moving from one place to another. distance kinda matters, the route you take sometimes does (the road often traveled develops its own weird flavor) so teleporting is… problematic

so protecting or bespelling cars or other means of transport is a tricky thing. you can do it if you’re rich enough to hire powerful mages on retainer, but ordinary people’ve gotta make do. it doesn’t usually cause paranoia about commuting to work or going to a friends house, but some people get weird about it, the same way some people get weird about their food touching anyone else’s

fortunately if you’re going fast enough it’s hard for most shit to catch up with you even if you’re not protected by wards; no one’s going to try to precise-aim a spell at you going 60mph on the highway

magic wants to do something, it wants to act, its a very active force. passive magic is usually more dangerous, unknown, kept contained by something. spells that aren’t allowed to do what they’re built to do can backfire in unexpected ways.

no one really knows how many magicians are in the higher levels of world society and government

certainly the government doesn’t officially know, but there’s always conspiracy theories. area 51, the area 51 for magic, etc

spells leave little trace-ghosts when they’re used up or burn out, faint imprints that fade over time but can be used to tell what was done here. that’s about all they’re good for though

magic needs energy to work. magicians and enchanters can install a kind of battery into their spells, a magical fat reserve to fuel it until it’s done what it needed to or it uses the reserve up and burns out. it is very very hard and impractical to get this reserve back after it’s been set, so most average spells have a set lifespan, and the size of the battery is calculated to burn out at a certain time.

more short lived, immediate spells also take a drain on the user; technically anyone has the capacity to do huge flashy world-shaking magic, but the drain would kill them pretty damn fast. any idiot can move a mountain, that’s how idiots end up dead.

being precise and deliberate is harder, especially when affecting the physical world without the structure of a set spell. you can build a circle sigil onto a handkerchief to cause whatever you drape it over to levitate; making objects float without the structure of a spell like that is a lot harder, because you’re building the structure on the fly with your brain.

magic tattoos are A Thing, and very common. spells attached physically to living things with special ink as the medium and binder work a lil bit differently than spells that rely just on their internal workings to stick to someone. tat spells draw on the energy of the wearer, not the caster (who is usually an artist/sorcerer in one, or a two-person team) and can be modified with shutoff switches so they don't accidentally kill the wearer

tat spells are often used for medical purposes, altering the flesh below them; Harker’s HRT is delivered through one such means, though the spell has to be checked and refreshed on the regular by a medimage. the potential for illicit use of these spell tats is something the magic scientists worry about; if you can alter hormones with them, you can use them to deliver recreational drugs on a constant supply, or turn all the water in someone’s body into hydrogen gas

that’s another thing, conservation of matter; you can’t turn one element into another. well you can, but you can only do it by physically ripping atoms apart and putting them back together different, and 1) the strain it would take to do so would instantly kill you, and probably set off a nuke in your general vicinity, and 2) you could only do maybe a handful of atoms at a time, which is the opposite of efficient.

only a few people have tried to do this, and it ended well for none of them. it’s Forbidden Research, which is not normally a thing that happens in the magic world. only things that are completely pointless and pointlessly destructive are Forbidden Research.

energy transference is waaaay easier, temperature is the first thing babby mages learn to regulate. mages would never get cold but doing constant temperature regulation via magic gets draining over time, and for most people it’s just easier to put on a damn sweater. there are a lot of charms to do it for you, but they tend to burn out fast and be kinda disposable.

light is a lil bit trickier but still entry-level; most adult mages of most stripes can make light happen, or dampen existing light. again, you’d think mages would have built-in sunglasses, but again, constantly doing the thing takes its toll and physical sunglasses are just easier.

life is… a difficult thing to alter. obviously there’s medical magicians, but it’s a very exact science and it’s very easy for things to go wrong. magic does weird things to life forces over time.

“soul” isn’t quite the right word, it’s more like momentum? the energy a living thing has that keeps it alive, the inertia of a beating heart and working organs. almost a perpetual motion machine. except that energy’s gotta run dry sometime. most spells won’t literally take years off your life, usually the effect is a lil tiredness like low blood-sugar, or a few days of lethargy after a magical workout. sometimes a very strong bit of spellwork will mimic bad illness and put someone out of commission for a month or three, but most people aren’t that reckless. it’s very much a matter of control; if you can’t control your magic well enough to keep it from killing you, you don’t have a very long life.

there’s very much the attitude of “well yes we could use magic for this, but honestly it’s more trouble than it’s worth so we’re not gonna bother” very practical-minded people.

magic affects living things whether they’re acted upon or not; even being in proximity to magic has its effects over time. so most people are comfortable with minor medical spells, it’s only a few weirdos that freak out over magical radiation effects. most life-mages specialize in humans, because it’s humans that most often need magical medical care. some specialize in plants, but it’s much harder because plants play by different rules. you have to have a knack for it, and a looooot of patience.

magic is also used by nonhuman things; some animals have rudimentary magical defense systems, or hunting methods. some plants use primitive spells to sting or make themselves poisonous. it’s not very sophisticated stuff, but it does the job and that’s all a plant cares about.

undead typically have very shit magical radars. most mages have some means of detecting magic being used around them, and can feel their own spells more keenly, but these senses are still easy to bamboozle and often aren’t more precise than “there’s magic eehhh nearish”

some types of nonhuman that are closer to fae have more refined magical senses, and can sometimes physically see spells in action, instead of just noticing the effects of what they’re doing.

fae themselves are Not To Be Trusted but aren’t exactly Kill On Sight either

very few things are classified as Kill On Sight tbh, and very few magic denominations are geared towards combat

magic militaries are a thing that teenagers dream up and are then quickly squashed because what the fuck johnny, who do you hate so much that you need firebomb spells? no, grounded, none of that here.

How Vampires Work: there’s an old old old Old spellthing that’s somehow still trucking along, and that’s very very tied into the element of blood. it’s transmitted through blood, uses blood as a host, and as a food/energy source. this is vampirism. it “infects” through transfer of blood (significant amounts, when the turnee is at the very edge of death) and unmoors the “soul” from the body and physical world, only to moor it right back in, tying the “soul” to itself and itself to the flesh body it’s inside. this is what keeps vamps “alive” and walking around even though they only exhibit two out of like five life signs. each spellthing inside each vamp is distinct from the others, and uses the individual vamp as a means to feed it; kind of a symbiosis? spellthing keeps vamp alive, vamp feeds spellthing, make a romcom about it? except the spellthing isn't really “alive”, it’s not sentient, it’s just there. it pulls some strings to altar the new vamp’s brain chemistry a wee bit, causes physical changes, and it’s the spellthing itself that’s weak to sunlight and heart-stabbing and all that jazz. burn out the spellthing, the vamp goes with it. there is no cure or treatment. the spellthing needs human blood bc human blood carries traces of “soul” in it, and to compensate for the sheer volume needed, the vamp’s innards are specialized to process with a lot of liquid very fast, so they don’t really get bloated up like ticks very often. it’s a very short digestive tract with lots of room, and it works very very quickly. spellthings do have regional variations and minor mutations, but they’re unexpectedly minor; it seems reluctant to change too much. powers and assets are more variable than weaknesses, vulnerabilities are often the same across groups. vamps really can’t use magic themselves, except what powers their spellthing gives them. no one knows where they came from or who made the first one, and some magical historians are very keen to find out; there’s evidence of vamps or vamp-like creatures going back way further than good ole vlad tepes, so he clearly wasn’t the first.

demons are also A Thing, but pacts are discouraged because they usually blow up explosively and have large fallouts. demons play dirty, you see. sometimes people get possessed without a pact, and that can be by a demon or a particularly strong ghost; results vary.

Harker technically counts as possessed.