Protector

To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

[the-noble-golden-dragon]

Heads Up! || Open

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

the-noble-golden-dragon‌:

When things were getting stressful in her life, Mulan’s escape had always been football. With finals looming, getting up to speed in her new job, and the wholly unwanted feelings of missing home, she needed to put her mind somewhere else. 

That somewhere happened to be the football pitch at Swynlake Secondary. After she had finished cleaning up all of the cones and balls from her gym class drills, she stayed alone to practice in peace. Not like anyone was hanging around the school anyway. 

Or so she thought.

An aggressive kick sent her ball soaring past the goal and straight into a passerby. 

Mulan froze, unable to do anything, not even shout, before the poor person was struck by her ball. 

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit!

She sprinted over to them, her face stretched with concern. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!”

The most humiliating thing about being struck without forewarning was the aftermath. Especially when it came with an audience. 

Before it occurred was fine, ignorance was bliss and some such. During was not the best but it was also not the worst as there was nothing to be done when the hit was happening, one simply had to ride it out and wait for the pain to set in. It was after everything was said and done that came the worst. See Martin and this football for example. 

Before: He had been on a path back toward to University after having met with one of the instructors at the Secondary school for a point of reference on a student, thinking about what to do for dinner that night. During: getting smacked in the back of the head with something had him wavering forward, the folder he had been given with previous work flying from his grip as his weight pitched forward. It had been more of a surprise rather than painful, so he was able to keep his feet, eyes tracking the ball as he dismissed it to be any sort of threat.

Which brought him to the Aftermath: a young citizen running over to witness as the Autumn pushed the papers of the folder out and into the world. Martin frowned, glancing down at them like the after thought they were to him. 

“What?” Then, “Oh! Yes, I’m fine. ‘s just rubber and air...Though I do feel as though I’ve just committed a crime by littering. You don’t see any officers around, do you?” 

[thesorceress-hera]

Potion Make/Breaking || Martera

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

thesorceress-hera‌:

Well, he did make a point there. Pain was difficult to come by, and it wasn’t very often someone offered to hand it to you. But still, it felt like a strange offer, and Hera wasn’t sure how it was going to look — a woman, out on the street, seemingly punching someone out of nowhere.

But like she said — when would she get that again?

She shifted her weight from one foot to another. “I'll— I’m not going to kick you.” She muttered, reaching into her basket for her wand. “I’ll slap you.” She decided. She had more experience of slapping than she did punching — knowing her luck, she’d break a knuckle. “It’ll sting, but it’s better than breaking your nose.”

Hera sighed, decided not to bother casting a quick glance around in case it attracted even more attention, and then brought her hand back and slapped her new acquaintance right across the face.

“Stay still.” She warned, her palm smarting but her hand steady as she reached for her wand and drew out the pain that hazed around the side of his face, bright red and pulsing. “Hold the wallet open for me?”

Well that was rather disappointing. He doubted very much that she would break his nose if she simply aimed for the cheek bone but he shrugged, knowing it was her call to make as she was the one performing the act. 

Martin prepared himself once more, clearing his throat and bending forward slightly to allow her vantage to his face. He even tilted his head, eyes clenched shut as he waited once more. But, again, she seemed to be hesitating for one reason or another. 

He opened his eyes, about to ask what the problem was now, only to be met with the palm of her hand. A small breath left him as he worked his jaw against the pain. Martin turned back to face her, sniffing as he held open the pocket of the wallet with both of his hands. 

“See? Wasn’t so difficult, now was it?” Despite himself, he smiled at her, eyebrows ticking up briefly, “You’ve a very firm hand, I’d be fortunate to never meet it this manner again.”

[thesorceress-hera]

Potion Make/Breaking || Martera

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

thesorceress-hera‌:

Hera was quite prepared to pick everything up and take it all back to her kitchen, where she could work on it herself for a time until she had moulded it into what she wanted. She was used to working alone, you see, as most sorcerers were —  she wasn’t expecting the offer of the wallet, and she looked at it curiously for a moment.

What came after it was a little more surprising.

She waited for him to say just kidding!, but it never came. Now, Hera had nothing against punching men, but she usually did wait for them to earn it first. “You must be joking.” She said, shaking her head.

Martin waited. And waited, aaaaand- he pried open an eye from where he had squeezed them both shut in preparation. He frowned, lower lip sticking out slightly as he opened his arms in confusion. 

“What would lead you to believe that?” he countered, tilting his head.“We all know its much better fresh. Time only allows it to heal until, next thing you know, it’s gone or dulled.

“And I’ve always found it rather awkward collecting that one, don’t you? Oh, look at that, little Johnny’s just skinned his knee on the pavement and there’s a sorcerer trying to collect it into their bag. ‘s got a law suit written all over it,” Martin cringed, looking off to the side as if picturing the scene just there. He blinked and returned back to her. 

“Would you rather a kick?” he offered. “Or, erm, you could throw something at me, I suppose.” 

[thesorceress-hera]

Potion Make/Breaking || Martera

[thesorceress-hera]

blastthisinfernalbeard‌:

One by one, the jars became filled, capped, and set aside until there was nothing left of the goo to be trapped away. All the while he listened to Ms. Alexander’s lost plans.

They sounded ordinary. Simple. But he had learned that the universe tended to speak in a low volume when addressing humanity. In the small silences. In the shape of clouds. In moments of solitude. In the steam rolling off a mug.

In assisting a stranger.

Martin picked up one of the jars, tossing it back and forth between his hands as he considered it, humming all the way. Yes, how did one get rid of that with which has created itself. Answer: one did not. One simply turned it into something else.

“I suppose that depends on you,” he said. “Are you looking to be rid of it altogether or are you looking to salvage anything from this?”

That was a very good question. Hera narrowed her eyes, looking at the jar in his hand, and she considered it for a moment. She wouldn’t be able to get the reagents out of it, that was for sure; they were too far intermingled now, all a part of each other, linked by whatever sentience that creature had managed to garner.

But it did seem like it would be a shame to waste everything. Make the best of a bad situation, her grandmother had always said, and the same had always went for mistakes too. Although, this wasn’t exactly her mistake. Just an unfortunate accident. “I suppose I could find some use for it.” She said, her head tilting. “I need something to keep the pests out of the greenhouse; the mice have been stealing the Faeberries lately.”

And surely that thing would make a good little guard dog. Hathor might not like it, but then again, maybe keeping the cat out of the greenhouse was a good thing. “I’ve been trying to enchant the thing for weeks, but they’re very determined. If I could make sure it didn’t get out of the greenhouse, it might work.”

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

“Well then that makes this all quite simple then!” he smiled, cheerful. Yes, he very much approved of her decision. Magic was a blessed thing. It could create something as hideous as the sludge in the jar he was holding, but it could also give purpose to the accidents made along the way.

“A simple containment spell aught to do you. Let’s see.” Martin looked around them, squinting. “You’ll need salt, of course, but what else did...? Oh! Pain, isn’t it?”

He leaned over, setting the jar down next to the others that still sat on the ground. His hands patted over his pockets, starting with his trousers and then his jacket where- ah!, he found his wallet. Emptying the contents and shoving that all back into the pocket, he pressed the empty leather wallet into her hands and took a step back.

“There you are, the leather will preserve it for you before you get back to your garden. So here,” he turned his head, and then pointed to his cheek, “give us a punch.”

[asouthernvampire]

Shameless Promotion | Open

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

asouthernvampire‌:

Now that Hera was running for the board, it was only right for her campaign manager to step it up a little. Support her cause and maybe also tarnish some of the other politicians while he was at it. What? It was a political campaign, not an exercise in kindness. 

So he went out to do something he ordinarily would never do: have flyers and campaign buttons and stickers to hand out while also making Hera shine more than others. How whimsical that he’d do this work on his own. The woman better be grateful.

“Support the finest candidate for the board, Miss Cheralynne Alexander. A fresh face that y’all need to see fighting for your needs. Be free of the liars who say that this time they’ll do better. You wouldn’t want that with a relationship, and you sure as hell shouldn’t want it for your board.” Anthony was shameless, and he held out a button supporting Hera to the next person he saw. “Here…take this to support the right candidate.”

How odd it was to be surrounded by politics. At his day job he was constantly talking about it as it was what he taught! Half of the time, but law went hand and hand anyways, so it felt as if it was the whole. And now it was apparently this small town’s time to decide upon who would make up their governing body. He found it all rather fascinating, if not a tad amusing. 

Such dramatics! Oh, the irony he could see just waiting to be picked up and sorted out for that warming spell he’d be needing for the upcoming winter. It had become the main discussion among the staff in his department at the university, so it had been hard not to know what was going on. 

So when the man singing the song of praise of the woman he’d encountered some time ago offered him a button Martin took it with a grin, as if he had just been presented with the greatest gift he’d ever received. 

“And what, if I may ask, are my needs that she’s so gung ho on fighting for, exactly?” he asked, looking up from the button, eyebrows raised.

[thesorceress-hera]

Potion Make/Breaking || Martera

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

thesorceress-hera‌:

Hera was going to need to come up with a proper plan to get rid of this. She might have to ask her gradmother, in fact, because she wasn’t quite sure where she would start. Maybe if she wrote down everything she thought was in it, she could start thinking about anti-reagents to try and take some of the life out of it, but…

“Well, I was planning a little work, a few potions, see a few clients—” She turned over the basket, looking at the inside. She expected it to be coated in goo, but it seemed alright, actually. The slime had held together surprisingly well. She moved over to her bike, setting it back in place. “And then read a book, maybe. Do some gardening. Eat those olives.”

She really was upset about those olives. Hera sighed, beginning to collect the rest of the jars and set them back in her basket. “I suppose now I’ll have to make sure my house is still standing. And get rid of… that. Unless you have any ideas?”

One by one, the jars became filled, capped, and set aside until there was nothing left of the goo to be trapped away. All the while he listened to Ms. Alexander’s lost plans.

They sounded ordinary. Simple. But he had learned that the universe tended to speak in a low volume when addressing humanity. In the small silences. In the shape of clouds. In moments of solitude. In the steam rolling off a mug.

In assisting a stranger.

Martin picked up one of the jars, tossing it back and forth between his hands as he considered it, humming all the way. Yes, how did one get rid of that with which has created itself. Answer: one did not. One simply turned it into something else.

“I suppose that depends on you,” he said. “Are you looking to be rid of it altogether or are you looking to salvage anything from this?”

[thesorceress-hera]

Potion Make/Breaking || Martera

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

thesorceress-hera‌:

Hera lifted the basket up and the slime lurched forward, looking for the light or the fresh air or maybe for Martin, in fact, maybe it was some kind of life-form seeking creature, Hera didn’t know. But either way it began to ooze out of the basket, but before it could all escape she slammed the basket back down, cutting a little bit off from the rest.

“At least it doesn’t move too quickly.” She commented, watching it writhe before it was collected up in its jar. “I have no idea how I’ll get rid of it— let’s keep going.” She sighed, waiting until he was ready before she lifted the basket again.

It wasn’t exactly fast-paced work, and she was starting to get something of a sore back, but as the last bit of slime scooted out, she straightened up and huffed softly. “This isn’t how I expected to be spending my afternoon.”

As soon as the slimy form of life came wriggling out from under the basket, trying to make its great escape, he was on it. Into the opening of the far it went, thinking the world was its to conquer. Only when it hit the bottom of the jar and the lid to be screwed closed behind it did the realization that they had fallen into a trap come to mind. If it had any mind at all. 

Martin placed the jar down, picking up an empty one to replace it with as he returned back to his ready stance beside the basket. Out came the next portion of the concoction, almost slipping by him, but he nabbed it before it could get away. He glanced up when she spoke, one corner of his mouth pulling up as he set the two full jars next to one another. The slime slapped against the jar’s side, as if waving to itself from their glass cages. 

“Oh?” he glanced up at her. “And what was it you had planned instead?” 

[thesorceress-hera]

Potion Make/Breaking || Martera

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

thesorceress-hera‌:

Hera inclined her head, eyebrows twitching in a way that translated to “eh yeah me too, but we do have a problem here, so let’s crack on, shall we?”. Scooping the goop up into individual jars probably wasn’t her best idea, but apart from sit on this box for the rest of her life (or until the sludge ate through the box, which was also a possibility), she didn’t exactly know what she was going to do. All of her jars had been carefully washed in moon water, too, so they should be able to hold the damn thing at bay.

“That’s about it, yes,” She nodded, glad he’d understood — they would both need to be on the same page if they were to pull this off. “It isn’t the grandest plan in the world, but it is a plan; any bits that escape in the mean time, scoop them up as well. Once we’re done I can take the jars home and… find out a way to get rid of it, I suppose.”

What on earth she was going to do with that thing Hera had no idea, but she would figure something out. Pay someone to take it out and dump it in the middle of the ocean, perhaps. Let Cthulhu deal with it. Either way, they needed to move fast, so Hera looked at Martin, and asked, “Ready?” before taking her knee from the top of the basket and lifting it a few inches for them to begin.

He winced at the visual she had given him, but she was right. A plan was better than no plan at all. They needed to get going before this concoction started to figure out how to lift the box and continue on its way down the street. There was no telling what it would do. If it would grow, multiply, demolish, and several other verbs that could be located in the nearest local dictionary. 

Or it could have simply sat in the same spot to live out a long, or short, life.  

Martin supposed she wasn’t willing to take that chance seeing as she would be liable for any damage it caused, to property or persons or otherwise. 

“Right!” he agreed cheerfully, settling himself down onto the ground. He placed the empty jars next to him, but kept one in his possession. With the cap unscrewed and in one hand while he held the jar firmly in the other he leaned in close to the basket, and glanced up at her. 

“On you,” Martin told her, casting a brief smile before focusing up on the task at hand. 

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

Fork In The Road || Jake and Martin

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

american-dragon‌:

All of this made Jake feel both empowered and kinda guilty. He felt a rush of assuredness in his decision – this was a good ideal it would take a lot of hard work, but he was gonna grit his teeth and do it. He was going to make the world a better place, regardless of whether he ended up being the American Dragon or not.

And then he felt guilty. Because he was in school. Because the world sucked a lot now and he could be doing more. He could always be doing more. Every time he sat alone at home and played video games, every time he goofed off with his friends, every time he had a quiet moment before class started, he felt the pressure to be doing more.

He had to save the world.

He knew that saving the world was something that one person couldn’t do.

But man, he had to try his best.

Professor Ambrosius had a thoughtful kind of voice. It made Jake think. Surely, Professor Ambrosius was making the world a better place in his own way. Seeing it for what it could be. He seemed to have it figured out, but then again, Jake was of that young age where everyone older looked like they had it figured out (even if Jake didn’t recognize this – why, just a few years ago, he thought he had it all figured out).

“D’you mind if I ask just one more question?” Jake asked, and then asked it anyway. “Do you ever feel like you’re not doing enough? I mean, like, in terms of making the world a better place. That totally wasn’t suppose to be accusatory, I just – I dunno. I always feel like I could be doing more.”

Goodness, this young man really knew how to interrogate a man, didn’t he? Perhaps that was a good thing, though. What with going to be the American Dragon and all that, he needed to be able ask what was on his mind. 

His knee jerk reaction was to say, No, of course not. Due to the Order of the Bear always doing something. New charges were always being found and monitored, people going out to see if they were who they were looking for or if they were just simply men who did not fit the bill. They looked for activities that may suggest the King would be returning, preserved history, kept very good and detailed records of history, and helped where they could in regards to their mission. 

But, upon further inspection, he found himself thinking the opposite.

“Yes,” he replied. Simple, the word turning out prim as it sat in the silence. Martin nodded slowly, a hand touching his beard as he began to understand the honesty in that one word. 

Some days he felt as though he was not where he was supposed to be, deep in his bones he could almost be certain that the weight of another life was resting there. He had been told to ignore it. Those memories had been locked away for a reason, to keep him focused on the mission, and he always did as he was told.

“But I believe that is the result of thinking too much,” he continued, and it was Martin speaking now. Not his superiors or the Order. Just Martin. “I find that question to already be answered, don’t you think? Am I doing enough?  Am I something? Will I ever be something? Well, yes. Of course of you are. You are something because you always were something to someone. And, yes, Mr. Long, you still have time to be something and to do something. Remember, you are still quite young, there is still time. The only way you can fail, in my opinion, is by not doing anything at all.” 

[thesorceress-hera]

Potion Make/Breaking || Martera

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

thesorceress-hera‌:

Hera gave a soft sigh as she watched her reagents disappear, off into the world she had procured them from. She had worked so hard for them, too, and there were some reagents there that she had collected for specific clients— never mind. She would get everything back, in the end, and if she wanted to not be chased out of town with pitchforks and torches, she would need to contain the quickly evolving slime that she had created in the first place.

She watched the other as he returned with an arm full of jars, her knee still placed firmly on the box, though it rattled ominously beneath her, jerking every so often. Was it getting stronger?

“You know, I never asked your name.” She realised, almost falling as the box jerked to the right. She caught herself, blowing away a lock of hair that had fallen into her face. “Cheralynne Alexander.” She introduced herself. “I’d shake your hand, but… maybe after. Should we both make it out with our hands intact.”

Martin’s eyes widened in alarm when the box under her gave a sudden jolt, fear making his stomach tighten for the split second that it looked as if she were going to fall. He breathed again, happy that he hadn’t dropped the jars in favor of trying to catch her or to take her place on the box to keep it atop the forming being trapped underneath. 

“Ah..., yes. Let us hope for the best possible outcome then,” he nodded, nose scrunching up as he glanced down at his hands. “But! It is my pleasure to meet you Ms. Alexander, though I’m sorry for the circumstances under which it had to occur.” 

He began to offer her two of the jars then blinked at himself as he tried to pin down the feeling that he had missed something there. When it hit him he gasped, “Oh! Yes! So, sorry! Yes, I’m Martin Ambrosius!” 

Blowing out an amused and slightly embarrassed breath, he stepped to the other side of the box, “So, how’d you say we do this? You lift it in intervals and I attempt to capture it within one jar at a time?” 

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

Fork In The Road || Jake and Martin

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

american-dragon‌:

Y’know back in high school Jake wouldn’t even really think about academics or graduate school or whatever. Not that he was thinking about doing graduate school now – hell no, he was gonna give back to the world in some way shape or form. Not that graduate school was a bad thing; he just wasn’t super great at the school part.

But he was curious now. He did like school. He liked subjects that interested him even though he was bad at writing papers. But there were people out there – people like Professor Ambrosius! – who were good at writing papers. Who wrote and graded papers their whole lives. It was pretty admirable, actually.

“Whoa, I was thinking of doing Magic and Politics next-next term, so I’ll keep an eye out if you have an opening,” he said brightly. “Hey – if you don’t mind me asking? Why’d you chose this field of study? I mean, like also specifically going into professor-ing.” He gave a little shrug. “Just from a few of my classes, it looks like this major attracts a wide variety of people, so I’m curious to hear how you came to it.”

Martin smiled, nodding as Mr. Long said that he may look into taking one of his classes. How terribly kind! He found himself hoping that he was still here to see that through, followed by an immense sense of guilt for thinking that way. The point of being here was not for these people, it was for a mission. One he should be grateful to be a part of, not longing for some other life that was not his to have.

This part was always difficult because while they had given him the facts of a past, such as where he was from, who is family was, where he got his degrees, and so on, they didn’t include feelings or emotions to tell people. Martin sighed, folding his hands together.

“Well, I think like anyone else in this field, at least the ones that truly want to be here, I’m here because of people. As of right now the world is a bit of...well, it’s a bit of a mess, really, but there is still good in it. This field touches on hard topics, but they are a very important part of the society we have created around us, allowing us to function, and in an effort in wanting to help people, I wanted to learn more about the system in order to know how to work it to help people,” he said, which was not a lie. It was the reason he was in the Order. To help the world, when the King would return it would be restored. 

“And, as for becoming a professor, the ability to be paid to think and write is very appealing,” he smiled, then shook his head. “No. Well, I mean yes, but, not only to I get to help people through the field, I get to help the future of said field. Or not even, they could be in another one altogether. Because while I like to think I’m helping you, it’s really you that is helping me with your want and drive to participate in these parts of the world. Working with people who see the world for what it could be rather than what it is has been my privilege.”  

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

Learning Curve || Azalea and Martin

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

azalea-aphrodite‌:

“Not at all,” Azalea commented. “One can never be far too old to travel and you hardly look old at all.” 

If anything, Martin looked around the same age as herself, give or take a couple of years.  

“I’m afraid that I have never been to Wales in my previous travels. Most of my travels centered towards the South American countries and a few Middle Eastern ones.” 

Anywhere outside of South America was mainly her late husband’s doing. He was not a sorcerer that remained still and though he also originated from Peru like Azalea, he often left his home country to explore the rest of the world. His interests were mainly on magic-friendly communities, but nowhere was too little for Isac to see. 

In fact, Isaac hardly returned back home at all and had only done so this once because he had heard rumors of a shapeshifter’s magic that lingered within the Peruvian borders. It was something Isaac knew he had to see for himself. He met the shapeshifter and was soon married to her taking her along on his adventures. 

“I’m from Peru.” 

Azalea wondered if her accent had given that away as her words were laced with a Spanish lilt to them, not heavy in the slightest, but still noticeable to the listening ear.  

A touch of embarrassment had him ducking his head to hide it away. In truth he had no idea how old he really was so the comment should have have been as flattering as he was making it out to be. And it wasn’t, not really, but...well, a woman as beautiful as the one before him gifting him with a compliment? It made him a tad flustered. 

Thankfully, before he made a larger fool of himself, she moved the conversation right along. Talking about herself, as it should be. He paid close attention, making sure to take mental notes. It was to his advantage that she had never been to Wales, then, seeing as he wasn’t really from there. (Or maybe he was, he didn’t know.) And he had never been to the places she frequented, so he would not have to worry about the crossing of paths previous to this meeting that he may have lost. 

“Oh! Well then that would make sense that you haven’t been that far North,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Not that I don’t take pride in Wales, but it’s not exactly everyone’s first choice of destinations to see. If people want to see sheep they’d sooner be off to New Zealand.” 

He gave a small shrug, because it was true. While Wales was beautiful and had kind people and a terribly frustrating language and a rich history, it was often overlooked in comparison to Britain. Or Scotland and Ireland. “Were you able to return home after every trip? Or was it more of a where the wind takes me sort of venture?”

[thesorceress-hera]

Potion Make/Breaking || Martera

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

thesorceress-hera‌:

Hera could argue about the shoe later, and she would, in fact be arguing about the shoe, because was certainly going to replace it seeing as it was she who had created the sentient goo, and she would had thus destroyed his shoe.

But no time for that now; the box beneath her was squirming as the creature tried to move, and so Hera leaned one knee on it carefully, using her body weight to keep it contained… for now. They were going to need something to keep it in, but unless she sent him running around town looking for something the goo wouldn’t just eat through, they were out of options. Unless….

“There are some jars there,” She said, nodding to the reagents in the jars that hadn’t smashed. “If you let the contents go — carefully — we can use the jars to scoop up the… thing.”

Martin followed her gesture, eyes having to search the area for a moment before they locked on to the jars to which she was referring. There was slight hesitance to move for them as he was unsure that wasting ingredients was the wise move but judging by how much movement the basket was exhibiting they didn’t have much time to brain storm. 

Plus, it was smart to divide it up among the other containers. He was beginning to wonder if he should just leave her to it seeing as all he had contributed to the problem was allowing the form to consume his shoe. And to think he was the one that was supposed to be trained to help in any situation. Then again, there had been reasons he had been assigned to the archives for so long. 

“Of course,” he amended, smiling and giving a shallow bow before jaunting over to where the jars lay askew. It was a physical pain for him to unscrew the lids and shooing the regents and other such ingredients back out into the natural world. When they had all scurried, rolled, flown, or slunk off he returned to her with his arms full of empty vessels. 

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

Learning Curve || Azalea and Martin

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

azalea-aphrodite‌:

“That’s a delight to hear!” 

And truly it was. One of Azalea’s fear was that Swynlake wouldn’t captivate her quite like Peru did. Sure, she has traveled around South America, primarily, but nowhere felt like the pull of home did. Now, she was in another part of the world so unlike home in many different ways.

However, beauty never remained confined in the borders of one area. There was beauty immersed around the entire world and Azalea wanting to experience all of it. 

Swynlake was a stop, mostly in memory of her late husband and because it offered some of the… unique qualities Peru did. She was a potion maker as well, after all, she needed a home that would oblige to that side of her. 

“It’s a fear of mine that I may become far too homesick, however, there is so much to see in the world, it would be a shame to remain in one area for an entire life-span.”

It will also be boring, and Azalea dreaded boredom.

With a delicate shrug of her shoulder and delightful smile, Azalea continued on. “May I ask where home was for you?”  

Martin didn’t even bat an eye at the question, having seen it coming for some time now. This was always how these endeavors went. When he asked questions the other person always felt it necessary to do the same, as if he was expecting it. That was just how conversations went. 

They had not sent him there without a cover to rely on. They were not the kind of organization that allowed their people to simply step out into a mission without having all their ducks in a row. 

He was Doctor Martin Ambrosius. He had studied at several universities, had been teaching in several others, and had come to Swynlake in order to focus on Magic within law. His history was not extensive, but fleshed out enough to where it looked as if he were a real person. They were thorough with their work, getting the paperwork where it should and giving him all the documents he needed in order to pass under the radar undetected. 

So when she asked, he had an answer.

“Newport in Wales,” he replied instantly, then pointed to his mouth to indicate to his accent. He didn’t know where he was from, that portion of his life having been erased for his own benefit to be able to focus on the mission. But his accent had given it away, so that is what they stuck to. “Originally, anyways. After I was able to attend uni I bounced here and there within the UK, so I understand what you mean. Though, I fear I’m becoming far too old to keep up with that lifestyle anymore.” 

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

Fork In The Road || Jake and Martin

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

american-dragon‌:

Jake was going to do this. He felt like it was the proper thing to do to get everyone opinions and blah-blah-blah, but at the end of the day, in the depth of his heart, he knew he was going to do this. Because having a political science major in the back of his pocket meant that he could do something with his life – even if he didn’t get the dragon position.

The dragon position, the American Dragon position. It was Jake’s constant shadow. Literally everything he’d done in his life since he was 13 years old would lead to that day when he was 21 and he took that test. Maybe when he was 16, he felt cocky enough that he would absolutely definitely get it. Now at 19, he hesitated. Not that he didn’t think he was capable; he felt pretty good about his Dragon skills and as far as humanitarian aid went, Swynlake had about a disaster a month and the VFD always had its hands full. But as good as he could be, there was always the possibility that the others were better.

If he couldn’t help make the world a better place as a Dragon, he was going to help make the world a better place as Jake Long.

It would be hard work. He looked at the course list and knew that there wouldn’t be an easy way around this. The only way to the other side would be to grit his teeth and work hard.

“Thank you so much,” said Jake, glancing at the list more intently. “I’m super interested in international relations stuff.” He paused, scanning at the classes, the flicked his eyes back up to Professor Ambrosius. “So, out of curiosity…what classes are you teaching next term?”

Martin lit up at Mr. Long’s thanks and suddenly everything felt very surreal. His office felt less like it was some sort of projection around him, like a simulation he had been sitting in going through the motions in order to keep up appearances, and more like an actual space. The highlighters in his hand were real. The desk was real. As was the chair, the paper, and everything else. 

Especially the young man across from him trying to make his future brighter, which already looked like it was brimming with potential from that glimpse he had been able to see. And Martin was there to help him. Though it was small, as he was only feeding him information, it had him realizing that this job was more than the front he had expected it to be.

He found himself happy to see that Mr. Long might double major. Excited to see if he would become the next American Dragon. Even though, in the end, should he and his people achieve their mission, none of that would matter, would it? 

But why not? he wondered. Why wouldn’t it matter? Then the stock answer of his CO answered for him in his brain, her voice cutting through his doubts and worries. They had a mission, he couldn’t get side tracked by trivial things like people’s academic careers. 

“Me?” he asked, then smiled, “Well! I’ll have Magic and Politics, Introduction to Peace Studies,Comparative Equality Law, and...oh, Commercial Remedies. Two of those fall within the Criminology and Law major, but the former two are under Political Science!” 

[thesorceress-hera]

Potion Make/Breaking || Martera

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

thesorceress-hera‌:

Hera smelled it about the same time that the other mentioned it - her brow furrowed, and she sniffed a little warily, and then she looked down. She didn’t want to be an alarmist, but she was rather worried that he was about to lose a foot to some toxic sludge, and she didn’t want to be responsible for a lengthy stint in hospital and lots of rehabilitation.

“Ah - take off your shoe! I’m going to…” What was she going to do? Hera wasn’t entirely sure. She took off the cardigan she had been wearing so as not to get it in the way (if it was burning through his shoe she could only imagine what it would do to a bit of wool), and then she reached for the bike basket. Tipping out its contents, she moved to cover the sludge with the basket, trapping it not unlike she would a spider scurrying across her floor. 

“Are you alright?” She asked him, trying not to get too close to the sludge - she was pretty sure it was trying to push against the inside of the box. “I can replace those - your shoes.”

Martin slipped out of his shoe, hopping back on his other foot until he was out of the range so he could place his other foot back down. He felt rather indignant standing there in his sock, but he did not place such heavy value on material objects. A shoe was just that, a shoe. He wiggled his toes, turned his foot up to check the bottom just to make sure it hadn’t eaten through to his sock before he could get the shoe off. 

“Yes, thank you for asking,” he replied, setting his foot back down on the ground to look up at her with a smile. Though it turned down quickly, his expression turning shocked and apologetic.

“Oh, no! No, no, that’s quite alright! There’s no need for that. It was my blunder after all,” Martin shook his head, then cleared his throat as he turned his attention back to the, now covered, concoction. “I’m afraid I haven’t got anything on me besides a spark of surprise...maybe we can somehow contain it? Shall we look for a bucket or large canister of some sort?” 

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

About A (Head) Boy || Martin and Lou | BHP

[blastthisinfernalbeard]

lou-bonfightme‌:

Toulouse scoffed. “Yes, because I take classes based on their dinner party conversation value.”

Not to mention, the circles he ran in–no one cared about how a car worked or how cell phones carried signal. Lou didn’t quite understand these things himself, but he was nothing if not a diligent student in all of his classes. So, no matter how stupid he thought Muggle Studies was (and certainly the term “No-Maj”–it didn’t even make sense linguistically), he was going to do his damndest to get an Outstanding, or at the very least, an Exceeds Expectations.

“Which, I suppose,” he continued, “is probably how Americans decide their classes. I swear, they think of nothing else but food half of the time. It’s pathetic.”

“Ah yes, the Yanks and their food,” he sighed, frowning. It was a problem, wasn’t it? But Martin couldn’t see what insulting them about the problem would do for it besides pushing them down farther into the dirt. 

Although, considering who he was having this conversation with, that was probably the point, yes? He needed to get away from the subject before Bonfamille continued to unload those unwanted opinions to him. 

“Surely there must be something of use to take away from the course?” he asked, tone hopeful. “Or, at least, if you know the curriculum you could do other tasks within the block of time? Homework, studying, catching up on a novel?”