black velvet

Sable Montgomery 176 years young, Louisiana Swamp Witch Gifted with "The Motion", a special brand of telekinesis. Click here for basic info Click here for history Indie OC, fandomless FC: Reba McEntire Sideblog, follows from xxtorpedo

[black---velvet]

madamsofcaos‌:

Lilith felt her the moment she pulled into the parking lot, the way one feels electricity in the arm before a thunderstorm. She steels herself, pushing her back against the hard plastic of the booth seat and laces her fingers on the top of her small stomach.

Eye contact was made instantly. Her blues to hers, a silent acknowledgment spoken; dislike. The demoness’s blood red lips formed into an unpleasant smile.

The witch was one to revered. Red hair or fire, sapphire eyes that burned like the fire in Hell’s pit. Pretty, she thought, head tilting to the side.

“Do you claim this place?” She takes up the milkshake she had order and slowly formed her lips around the straw.

It was not so unusual to be told she wasn’t welcomed in any place and this hadn’t been her first stop in her escape. Did it hurt? Deep down inside, it stung worse than a snake’s bite, but she would never allow that emotion raise to her surface.

Neither would she be run out of some backwoods wasteland witch. Lilith, mother of demons, the dawn of doom, had faced worse. This witch was a mere pestering fly buzzing about.

“That is quite some Southern charm,” Lilith offers her a seat across from her. She doubts she will join her, but it was a statement. Kindness first, brutality later should it be needed.

“I’m a weary traveler, dear lady, allow me rest and recuperation before you chase me out,” she sighs dramatically while dropping her eyes with a head tilt; signaling temporary submission.

“Oui,” she says, “This area belongs to my family, s’far as magic goes. We are as much a part of this parish as the live oaks that grow all around you. This place ain’t for you if you are lookin’ to cause any trouble.”

The woman’s eyes are a pale blue that rubs Sable the wrong way. They are mirthless, hyperborean. Chill her to the bone. Is she a demon? Or another type of creature? She looks every bit the part of a witch, but she does not smell like a witch. Not the witches that Sable Montgomery knows, of course.

The seat is offered to her, but she does not take it. Will not let her guard down. She clenches her fist only as the woman requests sanctuary, more or less. Sable shows her teeth – white and straight and harmless as they are – to make a point as she speaks. Each syllable has a bite behind it, the strike of a rattler.  

“I do not trust you,” she says, her own blue eyes narrowing. “First of all, I don’t know what you are – second of all, I don’t know who you are.”

She folds her arms over her chest.

“Unless you be up front with me, I’ll throw you out here and now. Hogtie you and toss you into the back of my pickup, if I have to.”

Sable smirks – the image in her mind laughable.

“So fess up.”

[firstwiitch]

E S C A P E. F ROM. H E L L. || Sable and Lilith

@black---velvet

She had done it. Broken the chains of Hell and the grip of Lucifer Morningstar. It had taken weeks, months even, of good behavior and false kindness to be granted some freedom.

But where an inch is given, the demoness takes a mile.

While he was distracted with his daughter, newly crowned Queen of Hell, she takes her chance to escape. She returns through the portal at The Grey Room and leaves Greendale for good.

Damned for death.

Lilith could not allow the proverbial blade to hang over so closely. In his company, she was the plaything, the toy when bored. He only ever fawned over, as of late, when he needed to gloat about his future son. It was the only time he ever showed her some slight of kindness and it was a rarity. He was no longer the kind, fallen angel he used to be.

- - -

Louisiana, USA

Hot and humid and a hellhole in its right. Lilith arrived there in the swampland with no intention other than to find refuge and other witching communities. She wasn’t ignorant to the magic within the state. Vodou was rampant but not something she had an interest in.

No.

She arrived in the closest town to the source. She could feel it eminating all around her. Weak, but there nonetheless. And Lilith was quite sure her arrival would bring the witches out of the literal woodwork to gawk and wonder.

A wicked grin forms as she walks into the nearest eating establishment. It was time to hunt and feed. She needs a man, one willing to go with her. Someone simple minded, preferably, and only thinks with the head between his legs and not on his shoulders.

Lilith sits herself nearest to the door to wait for an arrival. She hoped her go-to prey item would come first before a witch shows up and spoils it.

[black---velvet]

The air had dimpled. Undulated. Like a jello mold being poked. Ah, it was hard to explain. She’d told Marietta immediately, felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Something wrong had entered their territory and it didn’t feel like no witch. Sable told her family to stay inside, keep within their borders, and she left. Dressed in an unassuming uniform consisting of a soft cotton blue-grey dress, grey cardigan, muted silver boots, and her flaming red hair covered by a grey straw hat, Sable slipped into her old truck and drove off to town.

An hour later, she reached the source of the ripple effect – where the proverbial rock had been plunked into the water. A regular diner. Inconsequential. A mom and pop place. The witch parked and got out of the car, checking her makeup in the side view mirror before making her way across the parking lot and through the door.

The bell jingled overhead and she spotted her immediately.

Didn’t know who she was – didn’t know what she was more like it. Tainted with the foul odor of evil that only a tracker could pick up, the witch was snarling soon as she laid eyes on her. Though, this place was full of simpler folk, and to make a scene would be detrimental. Squaring her shoulders, she marched up to where the being sat, keeping her voice low.

“Get out of here.”

It was an order – but there was a slight fear in her voice. She knew this woman was probably more powerful than she could ever hope to be – and older. Anything that smelled like this had usually crawled out of the depths of hell – or out of a screaming teenage girl. She kept her wherewithal, however, and steeled herself.

“This ain’t no place for you.”

[black---velvet]

The riverside was not a normal place to see another person. Not in this neck of the woods. Sable would venture down to it, boots left unlaced on her feet since they’d be coming off soon anyway. She held her dress up around the hems of her knickers as she trudged through the high grasses, a jar held by a ribbon dangling from her wrist.

The day was warm like late spring despite it being the dead of summer. It had rained the previous night, swelling the waters and quenching the thirst of the garden and the farm’s crops. Small, clear beads rolled off of every plant Sable passed, swiping her in the face like clammy hands.

Boots abandoned by the shore, Sable jumped down onto the nearest large rock and bent to her knees, the jar dipping down into the flow of the water. She stretched out onto her stomach, arm folded under her head, chin rested on it. The murmur of the water as it played over the smaller rocks on the riverbed was enough to instantly calm any turbulent soul, though while she was not in the slightest bit on guard, the snap of a twig down the way had her tense up immediately.

Across the way and down was a figure, indeterminate but the shape was male. Slowly she spread her fingers, twisted around the ribbon tied to her wrist, and began to slowly wind the tether around her palm. The jar was full of the natural spring water, and Sable, like a feral animal, crawled backwards until she was hidden by the brush around the rock.

The man, whoever he was, was too far away to make out a single feature, so hidden in the shadow of the trees he was. She could tell he at least was wearing clothing, but the way he stood made her hair stand on end. Still, silent, watchful. It wasn’t long before she realized he felt different. Daddy was a tracker and Sable could track a little bit: wolf people, skinwalkers, you name it.

This man was something alright. 

She stood, suddenly, jar held tight to her bosom, and she glared across the river, hand lifting to block the sunlight.

“Puis-je vous aider avec quelque chose, étranger?”

@tanto-nomini-nullum-par-elogium

[pamela-rabe]

[black---velvet]

An ooc moment: so glad @jean-clauderp uses this handsome man for Sable's eldest boy ❤️

[black---velvet]

almostxcaught‌:

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Stop sayin’ shit like that. You ain’t makin’ it easier to sort this all out,” she huffed. Said cucumber was chomped down on like it had caused her great pain to attack it.

Lyla didn’t want to think of her parents as deceptive. She didn’t want to endure having to figure out if everything she ever known was a lie…again. She had gone through this once before with Clint. Now her own parents?

Tommy peeked through the window back at Sable, frying pan still clutched in his hand, “Thank ya, bitch.”

She forced herself to not get emotional. The last thing she needed was to have a breakdown in the middle of her favorite bar over some strange woman’s words.

“Yeah, no, I’ve noticed. I’m just…I don’t know. I thought I had at least got some credit for that part. I work my ass off to be healthy.”

“Liza Menelli lies, girl.”

“Is my burger fixed yet?”

“Comin’ out the pan like I came out the closet,” he was too cheerful as he brought out the patty with cheese on top. Tommy purred, “Hot, sweaty, and ready to be devoured.”

Unimpressed, she shooed him away with a hand. Lyla took another sip of her beer and glanced at Sable, “You gotta admit it’s hard for me to believe you’re my mother. You don’t look old enough. Not even a little. I don’t get it. It’s hard to process. Even harder to think about with all that I’ve put up with in the past two years. An’ now this? ‘Scuse me if I ain’t in the mood for more curveballs.”

Sable narrowed her eyes at the ‘bitch’ response, but instead of reacting, blinked a few times, affronted, and silenced herself with another bite. And then there was the comment regarding Liza Minnelli, another name lost to Sable. She paused to watch the fascinating character that was this ‘Tommy’ and his trusty frying pan weapon as he flitted out with the burger Lyla had ordered.

When the woman next to her spoke again, she returned her attention to her.

“Not askin’ you to accept it at face value,” she told her, “if someone who looked like me came over to me and told me she was my momma, I would knock her into the middle of next week. But how else am I supposed to tell you?”

Sable finished the pie and gently pushed the plate aside.

“Consider it like this. What do I have to gain from walkin’ in here and tellin’ you any of this? You wanna look up my record? It’ll scare the shit outta you but you’ll maybe find it. My name is Sable Angelique Montgomery, and if you got one o’ them laptop computers on hand you might find the name in historical archives.”

She smiled at Tommy.

“I like you, so I’ll tell you somethin’ funny.”

Her smile turned into a grin that could have been described as wicked, were it not for the lively glint in her pale blue eyes. 

“I’m one hundred and seventy-one years old.”  

She raised her hand. “Hand to God. And I’ll pee in a cup or give you my blood or take a psyche evaluation to prove I am undrugged and sane if you don’t believe me.”

[black---velvet]

almostxcaught‌:

Lyla laughed. Saying it out loud like that did sound a bit pathetic. “My god, what do you want me to think? Excuse me for bein’ smart about it. I don’t want to cause a scene an’ I certainly don’t want him gettin’ into trouble but you comin’ in here demandin’ that im your kid ain’t a helpin’ factor. So no, I ain’t goin’ some place private with you. Do you have any idea how stupid that is for me to do? I don’t know you from Adam’s apple,” she brushed a stray hair out of her eyes with another chuckle.

What a day. This had to be one of those fever dreams where everything is wildly realistic and her subconscious was talking to her. There was no other explanation. She had fallen asleep at her desk and this was all a dream.

Lyla pinched the inside of her elbow and winced at the very real pain. Not a dream.

“I-what? Spittin’ image?”

“Goddamn spittin image!” Tommy echoed from the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes skyward with a silent cursing to God. It was hard to deny truth. It was hard to look at Sable and be honest about that.

Grabbing her beer, she guzzled half of it down and decided to turn back to her dinner. The fork was in hand, it shakily picking through the lettuce and cucumbers and tomatoes as she tried to rationalize all of this in her head. Her parents had never mentioned her being adopted and she never had any inclination to think she was. Her cousins had red hair. Her uncle was so Scottish it drove her crazy. Until now, Lyla never questioned anything.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I was workin’ in the narcotics deparment earlier. There’s a ridiculous amount of marijuana an’ it just stinks. Smells like a damn skunk house,” she muttered, angrily spearing a cucumber.

“I ain’t demanded nothin’,” she told her smoothly, eating calmly while Lyla massacred her salad like a machete-toting Australian hacking through the outback. She rose her brows at her innocently. “I’m just an old woman, Lyla Norcrosse,” she said, “You ain’t got a thing to fear unless I somehow manage to get that gun outta your holster.”

A pause.

“Which I could do, I wager.”

She grinned.

“Without touchin’ it.”

The witch gave a soft laugh and took another bite of her pie and vanilla ice cream, smiling charmingly as she leaned over to catch a glimpse of Tommy in the kitchen. “Wonderful pie, cher.”

Sable gave a shrug of her shoulders to the apology for the accusation. She was well within her right mind and she was damn sure the woman sitting next to her was her youngest child. Sable hadn’t bothered having another since Vivienne had gone missing – couldn’t replace her. And now, here she was, already sixty and this lovely.

“You never wondered why you look so damn young for sixty? You ain’t even noticed that I don’t look old enough to be your momma.”

[black---velvet]

almostxcaught‌:

“Don’t make threats against him. He’s just doin’ what he’s supposed to,” she clenched her jaw and hated to be looking back at a version of herself. It was too alarming.

But Lyla just couldn’t let go of being prepared for the worst. She always had been. Her luck had been the worst these past few years. Her husband had been having an affair for years, both parents had died, and of course, getting put into a position she didn’t want.

This just had to be the cake topper.

“Yeah, that looks like me. So you know my name, age, and birthdate. That’s public record,” Lyla cut her eyes up from the photograph to the woman. “But that don’t make me this child you concocted a story about.” Her tone softened a little as she shook her head, “I’m sorry, but I ain’t Vivienne. I wasn’t adopted. My mama and Deddy had me when they were just married an’ I’ve heard the story of my birth since the day I was ol’ enough to hear it.”

This woman was giving her weird vibes. The kind of vibes that made her feel odd. Like, maybe it wasn’t all a lie. But what was the deal with the hand thing? The threat?

“Have you been drinkin’ today, ma’am? Done any kind of drug?” Lyla straightened up on the stool with a slight frown. She couldn’t smell any alcohol on her breathe and her eyes weren’t dilated. Something was up, for sure.

“Doin’ what he’s supposed to? Threatening me with a frying pan just for askin’ if you’d talk with me in private? I’m not armed, am I? Do you even see a purse in my hand?”

The witch narrowed her eyes as the other came back at her with her believed origin story. “You been lied to for your own protection,” she told her, “course they don’t wanna tell you that your daddy dumped you when he realized he couldn’t handle you.”

Sable pointed to her face, then to her own. “You really gonna sit there and refuse to even consider what I tell you when you’re my damn spittin’ image? Funny little girl.”  

She gave a sigh and turned to her apple pie, cutting into it with a fork. “Ain’t had a bloody mary since this mornin’. I’m perfect sober and never done a drug in my life. You can think I’m crazy all you want, but if you would come down off your scared pedestal and talk to me without people around, I could show you that I got a nose for it.”

Sable placed a bite of pie in her mouth and squinted at the other.

“I can smell ya,” she said around the bite.

[black---velvet]

almostxcaught‌:

Oh.

Lyla cocked her head at her with her tongue pressing into her cheek. Her appetite was gone, stomach filled up with anxiety.

Tommy took her order, glaring daggers at her from his under his false eyelashes as he strutted back into the kitchen.

This couldn’t end well. This woman knew her, went on a search for her and found her there. That was suspicious behavior. All the signs and red flags were glaring right in her face.

Of course the day couldn’t end with some kind of bullshit.

Lyla blinked at, eyes squinting in a narrow gaze of frustration. “No, we can talk right here. Why would I isolate myself with you? That’s rule number one in law enforcement. Don’t engage with anyone without back up.” She threw her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, “That’s my back up. Whatever you need to say, you can say it here. So what business do you have with me, Sable?”

Her heart was pounding hard in her chest and the blood was rushing to her ears. That same rush of adrenaline she always got when she used to be in a sticky situation with a perp. It terrified Lyla and had her wishing she actually had back up.

“You got that right, baby! I’ll beat a bitch down,” Tommy came out the back with a cast iron frying pan. He put it to his shoulder, “So don’t act up.”

Lyla let out an annoyed sigh, “Get back in the kitchen, Tommy, before you catch a case.”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said. Get back in the kitchen before you burn my burger. Add cheese.”

He sucked his teeth and lowered the frying pan while pointing his finger at Sable and mouthing, “I see you.”

The witch rolled her eyes. “Oh, laisse-moi tranquille. I’m not packin’ like you are. But if you have your friend here come at me with his frying pan you’re gonna see something you ain’t never seen before in your life, I’m sure. Have it your way, though. Wanted to spare you.”

Sable tapped her fingernails along the surface of the counter, watching the woman with her teeth gritted before reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out a single photograph. It was of a baby, about half a year old. Despite the faded color of the picture, her red hair was unmistakable.

“This little girl was called Vivienne. Born in Louisiana on May the second, nineteen sixty, just a coupla years after her brother, Monet. His daddy was a musician, died of a cocaine overdose. Her daddy was the damn devil himself. Stole her from me and ran off in the night.”

She leaned her chin into her hand.

“I have been lookin’ for her ever since, but never could catch up to her. She’d be about sixty now, beautiful and not lookin’ a day over thirty or forty, I’m guessin’. Don’t know if she ever figured out what she could do if she used her hands in a just-right way.”

The witch smiled.

“Tracked her all the way to this city. Finally. The trail stopped here at this restaurant and when I opened the door and saw you I felt my soul ascend.”

She tapped the picture with her finger. 

“She look familiar?”

[black---velvet]

jean-clauderp‌:

A night’s rest would have done him well, if he’d gotten any But he didn’t. How could be sleep, knowing his mamàn was trapped in jail with those brutal witches??

When he saw her now, he felt such relief that he couldn’t think of a single thing to do except hug her back.

Soon, he pushed her back and looked her over, frowning.

“Maman, did they hurt you?” He asked. “I really will kill them if they did! Are you alright?” He looked at her, noting that she looked remarkably well for having spent the night in jail, after overusing her powers so much.

“Why did they let you go?”

Sable allowed herself to be looked over, as she did the same with Jean Claude. Who knew what kind of people those other magical folk were? They could have hurt her boy, despite what Syndra had said. She still could not fully trust them – not someone with a whole functioning government and what were the equivalent of magic shooting guns at their disposal.

“The woman who arrested me was kind,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sorry I did not come home. She took me to her place because she has never seen someone like us.”

The witch moved to go into the kitchen and make herself a much needed cup of Louisiana chicory. Thank heavens her mother put a pot on every morning and afternoon. The witch inhaled, eyes closing, and turned to look at her son as she nursed the coffee.

“I was too tired to travel, so I stayed the night.”  

[black---velvet]

almostxcaught‌:

Lyla couldn’t help but to feel a little wary with this woman coming there. The tension had heightened up and her hairs were standing straight up on her arms and the back of her neck.

It was the kind of tension that filled a room when things were about to go down. The same kind of feeling she had when the council called her in to tell her she had been elected as sheriff when Lyla had never run for the position at all. The town had wanted her and she obliged.

Tommy pushes through the swinging doors and set the plate of salad in front of Lyla before glancing up at the pair. He stopped, did a double take between them and waved a finger.

“Oh, shit. Sheriff, you didn’t tell me you were meetin’ your sister here…” he scrunched his face up with his head tilting to the side, “Hell, I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

“That’s because I don’t,” she answered frankly, her eyes still locked on the other woman. “Yeah, you can say that.”

This was confusing as hell. Lyla had seen pictures of people finding their ‘doppelgänger’ on the internet but it had never crossed her mind to ever see her own. This was weird. This was the strangest thing to experience. There were subtle differences but if no one second glanced them, there were none.

“You…you need something, ma’am?” She cleared her throat, back straightening.

Sable inhaled a shaky breath suddenly. It was surreal, seeing her in person. The witch glanced up when her food arrived and gestured towards it. “Eat your dinner,” she said in a tone that was saturated with a sort of command reserved only for women who children. She took up the menu and flipped through it idly, pointing to a dessert listed before directing her attention to the man behind the bar.

“I’ll take this, chérie. Hot apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Ça a l'air délicieux.”

Her hands folded over the bar surface and she waited for him to walk back into the kitchen before looking to Lyla once more.

“My name is Sable,” she told her with a thin smile, “And I came here specifically to meet you.”

The witch examined her fingernails idly. “Lyla, isn’t it? A pretty name. The town Sheriff? Très impressionnant.” She gave her an impish sort of smile. From the kitchen, she could hear a microwave ding! and realized that her time would be running out if the restaurant man kept talking to them.

But how to dump so much information on this woman without her freaking out?

“Could we talk somewhere private?”

[black---velvet]

almostxcaught‌:

@xxtorpedo

It was a slow day for the sheriff. She had gone out to the jail to check in with the deputies and officers after a busy intake weekend, but after that, it was back to her office for paper work.

Lyla couldn’t complain too much about that, but she certainly missed being out in the field and being ‘in on the action’. When she was elected as sheriff, she hadn’t expected there would be so much office work and political events she would have to do. It was more about socializing and being likeable than being an officer of the law.

It kind of sucked. And she missed the uniform.

But the only good part was getting to clock out at six and head home. Well, Lyla didn’t have to punch a time card being that she was now on salary. So her routine was to turn her computer off, lock her office door, say bye to the ladies working the desk, and go.

Instead of heading home she went to the local grill for supper. Wayside Bar and Grill was a local favorite and was often packed but it was a slow Monday so it was just her and two others in the restaurant when she walked in.

“Hey, Tommy,” she threw up a hand as she settled down at the bar. “Can I get a beer? An’ my usual except no fries this time. A side salad.”

Tommy, the cook, stuck his head up at the window and frowned, “Has hell frozen over?”

“Nah,” Lyla laughed with a shake of her head, “I’m just tryin’ to eat a lil’ healthier.”

“No bun either for the burger?” He cocked his head with sass.

“Yes, sir. No bun.”

“Girl, if you wanted a tossed salad and piece o’ meat you at the wrong bar,” Tommy cackled but gave her no more grief as he disappeared to whip up her dinner. A second later, he hollered, “Sheriff, go on an’ grab you that beer from the cooler. I had to let my help go.”

Lyla got up and walked around the counter, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“He got arrested in Lakeland county last night,” he appeared just long enough so she could see his scowl. “The dumbass was caught with an ounce of weed. Second time. He gonna be there for ninety days.”

She let out a soft sigh, grabbing the beer from the cooler and headed back to her seat, “M’sorry to hear that Tommy. You need some help? I can work a couple hours in the evenin’ when I get off.”

“You too sweet, Sheriff, but you don’t need to be caught workin’ a second job. People be runnin’ they mouths sayin’ you bored an’ you ain’t want tha’ now. I’m here to tell ya, baby.”

That was Tommy McCallister for you. Always giving out sound advice but couldn’t take it. Lyla appreciated it. He was a good man when he wasn’t prostituing himself out to men he didn’t know. But if it hadn’t been for Tommy, she never would have made it through her divorce after twenty years of marriage without him. He had been her best friend and rock through it all. A lot of people didn’t like her friendship with him, but that was of little consequence.

Her thoughts were interrupted with the diner door swung open and a blast of air care through. On instinct, Lyla turned quickly with her hand resting on her holster. She didn’t know what to expect but it certainly wasn’t some woman with similar hair standing in the door way.

“Evenin’,” she tilted her head to her in a welcoming fashion.

Blast of air, indeed.

The woman that stood in the doorway was the spitting image of the one at the bar, with only a few differences here and there. Preternatural blue eyes took on a sheen like a glow as she made eye contact with the woman whose hand was on her holster. She resisted the urge to prevent anything from happening with a simple flick of her hand, but the other redhead gave her no reason to do so.

So, she simply made her way across the floor, her eyes never leaving that of Lyla Norcross.

It had been years coming, but she’d know her damn reflection if she saw it. Granted, her own eyes were sharper, her fiery red hair had a few streaks of grey, and she was a tad ganglier. At her height she was typically unimpressive, armed with nothing but a secret brand of magic that was enough to make the papers.

Lyla was, though. That gun resting on her hip was enough to chill her. Guns were faster in the right hands.

Sable sat alongside the other woman and gave her a minute smile, her head tilting into a nod. “Evening, cher,” she greeted her. She’d tracked her for decades, never found her except traces of her. Always so far behind her, and with the rest of her coven and family to look out for, she hadn’t had all the time in the world to do so.

But God,

she was beautiful.

And for a second, that made Sable feel like a damn dirty narcissist. The witch swallowed, hoping she could control herself long enough to simply strike up an innocent conversation. Maybe Lyla would notice the resemblance. She’d have to be dumb not to.

Bright blue eyes flicked to the hand on the holster and she smiled.

“Did I spook ya?”

[jean-clauderp]

Jean Claude was pacing the drawing room quickly. Honestly, a little too quickly for how dizzy and ill he felt, but that had never stopped him before. He was frowning and gesticulating, and lit up a cigarette - indoors. He never smoked indoors.

But how was he going to get his mother back?? That idiót Benoit...! If not for his theft, they wouldn't have been arrested by those awful, strange magicians.

They'd released him, but kept his mamàn. That was not how it usually went! Jean Claude had half a mind to go back there and beg them to take him instead!

He collapsed into an old chair, his hands trembling slightly. God, he was dizzy! He'd bled a lot, having used his magic that much. But bleeding wasn't new to him either. He was old, and had been through all the great wars of the twentieth century. Being hurt was hardly unusual.

He was tempted to go to the Benoit coven and seek a bloody vengeance. But that wasn't the priority now. The priority was getting his mother back - she'd been in there with who seemed like the chief for a long, long time.

The witch had tried to blow the doors off their hinges with his magic, but it had resulted in nothing but a massive nose bleed, and a loud ringing in his ears.

To say he was worried about his mamàn, was a rather big understatement. She hadn't done anything to deserve being arrested!

And who even WERE the people with the sticks that hurt him with magic? They'd called themselves Macusa, whatever that was! If they were a powerful new coven he hadn't heard of, he needed to find a way to deal with them without making a fool of himself.

And he needed to break in, to rescue Sable.

@black---velvet

[black---velvet]

It had only been a day since she’d been carted into MACUSA with her son. After the whole fiasco, she’d spent the night at Syndra Grimshaw’s house, given a guest room to rest off the absolute depletion of her energy. She’d gone to bed after dinner and slept like an absolute corpse before the next morning when she’d been given the okay to go, if they could see each other again soon.

She’d accepted.

For some reason, she’d accepted.

Normally, Sable Montgomery would have said ‘yes’, given a bogus address, and left as soon as she could – but Syndra could track her down, probably, and honestly, she wanted the woman to teach her the magic of her kind of witch. So she gave her the right one and went on her way.

As she opened the gate to the long walk to her house, Sable could hear the screen door to the house bang loudly. “Nanna’s home!” she heard Marietta’s oldest daughter yell as she bolted across the yard to all but tackle her. The witch laughed weakly, taking her into a hug and kissing her forehead.

“I’m sorry if I worried you,” she said.

Once inside, she immediately found Jean Claude, her face pale upon catching sight of him standing there. In silence, she quickly rushed forward to wrap her arms around his neck in a hug, her breathing shaky.

“I’m so glad you’re in one piece.”

[kittengirlnextdoor-model]

A witch ought never be frightened in the darkest forest….because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her.

Terry Pratchett

[departmentofherbology]

@minervashogwarts

[jean-clauderp]

A Southern Witch...

Who loves women, wine, and song!

That's me, Jean Claude Montgomery.

I'm a good, old fashioned Louisiana gentleman.

A bit of a troublemaker, that is true, but never cruel.

You may know my mother already, @black---velvet Sable Montgomery, a formidable witch.

I've lived, I've loved, I've lost, I've learned.

Life is fleeting - even for one as near-immortal as me - so it is best to enjoy whatever you're given, take whatever blessings cross your path, have fun, make merry, and never look back.

OOC: This is a side blog. I will follow with my main blog, @adventuroussoul15.

[pamela-rabe]

Reba on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, telling the joke that once got her booed off stage in the 70s.  Stephen: Do you remember the joke that got you booed off stage? Reba: Oh yeah, yeah. You know the difference between unlawful and illegal?  Stephen: No. Reba: Unlawful means it’s against the law and illeagle is a sick bird.

Source

[midnight4ever]