SACRIFICE.

gaspar louvat. thirty three. male witch. ipswich. innkeeper. burdened with purpose.

[gasparlouvat]

Witch 

Character Name: Gaspar Louvat Age: 33 Ascension Date: 1956 If Ascended What 3 Abilities Did They Gain?: Pyrokinesis, aerokinesis, teleportation Current Location: Ipswich Occupation: Owner of Hope Farm Inn (an inn on a farm between Ipswich and Salem) (Males Only): Currently using magic only when necessary, he is feeding (witches and humans alike) What ties them to Salem?: He plans on taking it back! Good traits: Meticulous, determined, forthright Bad traits: Selfish, manipulative, callous Anything else: N/a Background:

A cursed house births a cursed bloodline. The Louvats were one of the original families to be exiled from Salem in the 1700s. They fought back, and lost a lot of their own, including Valerian Louvat's wife. This turned him mad.

During the move, the other Warlocks blamed them for the bloodshed that could've been avoided. And so, once they settled in Ipswich, the Louvats isolated themselves.

Valerian, stricken with grief and fury, planned for vengeance. He had many bastard children, only stopping until he had twelve sons. The eldest, Roul, would be trained to take back Salem, and the rest existed so he could drain them of their powers after their ascension. The other sons were made aware of this, taught to believe it was an honour to have a purpose. The boys were mostly kept indoors, on the farm, so Valerian could keep them under his strict rule. Only the eldest son was allowed to have children in order to continue the lineage.

However, as the story goes, Roul, after taking his brothers' and father's lives, wasn't able to stop using magic and died before making a true impact on Salem. The youngest Louvat son lived, then again had twelve sons. Valerian's madness and desire for revenge were passed down the generations, maintaining the same traditions and discipline.

Failure after failure, not a single Louvat was able to resist the seduction of magic and all met their demise, and the thirst for retribution was carried on by the next generation.

They now believe that the strongest witches are made from draining the power from those of your own blood.

Gaspar, the current generation's eldest, whose father had told him that his ascension had been like no other, and like those before him, were raised to believe he was the most powerful and thus most capable to take back Salem.

He mostly raised his brothers himself as his father is basically on his death bed from overly using magic. He loves them, but he knows when the time comes he will have to kill them. This has something he has grown to accept as his duty and no longer feels guilt over it; they all have roles to play.

Disciplined when it comes to his magic use, unlike his predecessors, at least for now, he has been waiting patiently for the right time to attack Salem. It is with a clear conscience that he approaches his purpose, wholly believes in it and is willing to whatever it takes. Will not allow anything to stand in his way so that his brothers will not die in vain.

Has not been attending ascensions in Salem to hide their keep their identities from the witches. Instead they've been going to New Orleans.

[ventimigrillo]

“ There’s something else I never told you. “

[antondevlaux]

The curtain shifted, someone else entering into the already too-crowded space. Anton took a moment to look around the room, false mirrors had been placed to give the illusion that magic was at work here: it wasn't.

When he noticed that familiar voice, calling his name, Anton barely glanced at Gaspar, the new tension only adding fuel to the smoldering fire in his gut. He was still focused on Rainer, trying to make sense of his words. "Stay inside? Excuse my French, but what the fuck are you talking about?" Anton's voice was low, gravelly, but not as harsh as it had been towards Madame Zara. No where near, he attempted to soften it further -- even if he hadn't exactly been succsessful.

Anton shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. "What are you even talking about? Seen what? You're not making any sense." He was trying to stay calm, but the mixture of anger and confusion made it difficult. He glanced back at Madame Zara, who remained silent, her eyes wide and fearful.

"Gaspar," Anton said in the way of greeting, his head dipping into a nod -- it was the only thing he could muster right now when he was looking at Rainer. He'd truly rather be in Jo's company right now, and that was saying something. "Do you have any idea what your brother's talking about?" confusion tugging brows into a deep V, as he attempted to make sense of the situation. He was so obviously distressed.

And the one thing he didn't need...and then, of course, she opened her mouth.

Madame Zara slowly, with her croaky old woman's voice said " Maybe I can do a group reading for you all...figure out the tensions."

"...Ma'am, kindly shut the fuck up." turning his gaze back to Rainer. "Alright, Rainer," he said finally, throwing his hands up in the air -- he just wanted to go now. So much for trying to help someone, aye. "I'll bite. What do we do now? Why don't you tell me about it outside with Gaspar? I'm sure the crackpot needs to bleed few more people dry before she can sleep peacefully at night."

[gasparlouvat]

It was clear, from Anton's question, that whatever tension Gaspar had walked into was Rainer's doing. His features darkened with a hint of sharpness, clear that he was restraining the irritation from showing. "Ignore him," Gaspar says. "He hasn't been feeling well lately."

A steely gaze lands on Rainer, who quickly tears his gaze away from Anton and looks down at his hands, picking at the skin around his nails. It was one thing to tell Zara whatever worries had plagued his mind, but to preach them to Anton, who so infamously rejected their kind, was crossing the line. Unsettled, all Rainer can bring himself to do is look apologetic, to everyone involved. He was not mentally prepared for the earful he'd receive later.

When Zara speaks, Gaspar shoots her an unimpressed look. Funny how she could never read the room, considering what she does for a living. But Anton's reaction is telling. He figured the anger he'd heard from outside the tent had been directed at her, not Rainer. "That won't be necessary," Gaspar interjects, stepping away from the curtain and further into the tent. "Rainer and I will be leaving now." Then, he turns to Anton. "Was that really needed?" All the shouting, the rudeness... He can't help but feel the animosity is misdirected. "You cannot help every fool that walks this Earth." Gaspar walks towards to Zara, the fool in question, who remains seated behind her makeshift desk, and pulls out his wallet.

"I apologise for my brother," he tells Zara, placing forty dollars on her table. Then, a few more bills, "For the inconvenience." And with that, he takes Rainer and leads them out of the tent.

[gasparlouvat]

Summary: Gaspar and his brothers attend the first dual Ascension. The youngest, Criou, is injured. The Louvat matriarch convinces Gaspar to offer Criou to Kieran.

The Louvat brothers enter the temple, positioned at the back of the Ipswich Coven. Donned in thick black robes and a sharp dark mask, worn by those who'd successfully ascended before them, together they appear as nothing more than an ominous shadow. Leading them is Gaspar, whose eyes remain on Kieran walking ahead. To his side is Criou, the youngest, and the last of them to ascend. Not even his robes could conceal his jittering, and it is felt by those behind him.

"Gaspar," Rainer whispers fretfully, appearing from behind with a sense of urgency. "Gaspar, I have a bad feeling about this." Taken aback by his brother's thoughtlessness, Gaspar places a hand on Criou's shoulder first, silently telling him to ignore Rainer. "No, you don't." Their eyes meet and the look he gives Rainer is unmissable: Do you think this is helping? "What did I tell you?" Given what had happened at the Carnival, Gaspar had allowed Rainer to join them in their support of Criou under one condition: to keep his damn mouth shut. "Another word and you'll be waiting in the car." Rainer hesitates. His gaze dots around, flickering more and more to the side, though it fails to reach Criou. Eventually, he timidly mutters, "Understood."

Three knocks signal the start of the ceremony. Each brother takes it in turns to wish their youngest good luck, offering last-minute advice in surviving the ascension, and on the off-chance he might not, their final words disguised as a well-meant joke.

"I'm scared," Criou finally admits. "I don't want to die." "Criou," Gaspar says, placing his hands encouragingly on either side of Criou and lowering himself so they're stood at the same eye level. "You have been preparing for this. This will be the most powerful ascension in history. It is a blessing to be a part of it. And you," He smiles beneath his mask and it could be heard in his voice, "You will be remembered as one who survived it." "What if I don't?" "You will." "But what if--" "Look around you," Gaspar's tone takes a sharper edge. "Every witch in Salem is here. They will all be watching. The Supremes will be watching. Do you want them to think you're weak? Do you want to give them something to laugh about?" In New Orleans, Gaspar had more patience for his brothers' nerves. This time, here, in Salem, he could not afford them to be in fear. "You are not a boy anymore, Criou. Remember why we are here." After a beat, Criou asks, "Will it hurt?" Gaspar merely tilts his head at the question. Whilst Criou had never attended an ascension before, its toll on one's body was not a secret. "I mean, after..." "After what?" "After the ascension," Criou casts his gaze to his feet. "When I will my powers to Kieran." "No," Gaspar lies. "That won't hurt."

Criou strides towards the witches around the pentagram, his posture exuding newfound confidence and hope. The candlelights flare in sync as they hold hands with one another. The brothers wait with bated breath, each glance filled with unspoken tension. All remain solemn and focused, except for Jehan, who entertains the attention coming from female witches with a mischievous wolf whistle.

Gaspar's eyes narrow with resentment as The Supremes make their entrance. Their regal bearing commands the silence of every witch in attendance as they glide along the dais. The air grows thick with a mix of reverence, envy, and anticipation, every eye in the woods fixed on the powerful figures now seated before them. One day, it will be Kieran sitting there. And, if Gaspar plays his cards right, he'll be sitting right beside him. Patience, patience...

[...]

"Rainer! Take Criou and go home." A deep voice roars over the screams and Rainer acts immediately at Gaspar's command. Criou lays on the floor, cries of agony tearing from his throat as he'd been struck by the flames that'd exploded from Lilith McGabe. "The rest of you, stay with me." If the witches decided to turn on them, then they'd stand by Kieran and fight alongside their Coven. A part of Gaspar even welcomed it.

[...]

Back in Ipswich, the night sky hovers over the farm and envelopes the landscape into an unnervingly eerie darkness. A cold, biting wind whistles through the trees, their branches casting distorted shadows that dance across the ground, like open arms of their ancestors welcoming the brothers home.

The wooden floorboards of their old house creak under heavy and hurried steps as the boys run through its aged halls. The thin walls leave little to the imagination. Their disorder echoes through the house and reaches the tea room, where their mother, Clementine, spends most of her evenings.

"Are the boys fighting again?" She asks coolly, sitting in a floral-patterned armchair, its fabric worn and torn, in lieu of a greeting. In one hand, she nurses a glass of wine as she stares into the fireplace.

"Unfortunately," Gaspar replies, closing the door behind him. From here, they can hear the horses, stomping their hooves against the hard ground and letting out shrill whines that seem to cut across the night.

"So we lost Criou." A fair assumption, considering what happened last time with Yidier and the disarray it left them in. Arguments over who should take his place made it clear that they all wanted to live just a little bit longer.

"No, he's just injured," Gaspar explains what happened at the Ascension, as he often did. This time, however, she looks away from the fireplace. It might be the first time he has ever seen her look surprised. "A McCabe?" She gasps in part disbelief, part fascination. "Is Octavia dead?" "Not sure." Clementine hums idly and turns back to the fireplace as she takes another sip of her wine. "And Kieran was happy with Criou?" A beat of strained silence. "I made Rainer bring him back so he could heal him. I didn't--" Her head snaps back up, a piercing gaze landing on Gaspar's. "Why didn't you take him to Kieran?"

"He's injured. He could've died on the way." From a single look alone, she demands further explanation. "When he was hurt, he was calling out for you. He was scared. He didn't want to die." Around his brothers, Gaspar is everything the eldest brother should be. In front of his mother, he turns into a young boy. He can't hide how this pains him, even if he struggles to admit the truth, "And I had to lie to him. I told him it wouldn't hurt, when Kieran takes his powers. Maybe I didn't want his last thought to be that his own brother lied to him." No one had asked him that question before and he hadn't been prepared for it. "And?" She says pointedly. "And I thought you could maybe talk to him." "Who does that help? Certainly not me. Certainly not him. Just you, it seems. Do you see how cruel it is to bring Criou home, only to take him away again? We have said our goodbyes once and we will have to say them again."

Somewhere in Gaspar's silence he wonders whether they can keep Criou and replace him with another witch to offer to Kieran. If his powers had manifested in the way they should've, he'd be more powerful out of all of them. Surely there was some value in that.

"Don't be tempted by greed, Gaspar." Her words cut straight through him. "You'll end up like your father. He was much too soft. You have to be better than that."

No longer stunned in her ability to read him, he simply lowers his head and sighs. "I understand. It was just hard, that's all."

"My darling boy," Clementine says, setting her wine glass aside and standing up to place a warm hand on Gaspar's cheek. "You've done well so far. I'm so proud of you." She smiles at him in a way that settles all of his worries and puts him back on the right path. "Criou will be the last, and then you can focus on Salem." A beat. Everything about her turns cold again. "Now go. Get Criou ready and take him to Kieran. And bring me another bottle, will you?"

[julesbishop]

"The best titles usually are." From his enunciation to the commentary, it was rather obvious that he didn't believe her one iota. Wise man. A rarity in the blonde's experience. Not that it mattered much, she fully planned to don her fake accolades with pride.

The kinds she actually wanted.

Right on cue, as if by quiet habit, she adjusted the headphones draped casually around her neck–– merely an accessory tonight, but her lifeline in duller situations. At least now if Jules unwillingly overheard the cosmos, she could blame any jumpiness on the sudden ringing of prize bells along the strip.

She plucks the ball from his grasp with a slow blooming grin, "Oh, you're so on."

In her years of roadtripping with Lilou, they'd spent more than enough time haunting various arcades, so any bravado wasn't entirely unearned. Skee-ball and claw machines became two secret talents that were utterly useless in everyday life. Great for winning prizes though, or a free drink... within ten minutes she's rolled a two-eighty out of three hundred. Not too shabby.

[gasparlouvat]

The best titles, in his humble opinion, are those that don't have to be uttered but are nonetheless remembered. The son who reclaimed Salem, that rolled right off your tongue. But she doesn't need to know that. So, he'll nod, simply in agreement.

Gaspar watches her with interest. Curiosity grows with her every throw around the existence of this Skeeball Queen of the Eastern Seaboard. This skill, clearly honed over time, brought her what benefit, exactly? He sensed no magic being used either. Sure, he thinks, looking at her again, there was something very human about her.

"You're really after this free drink," he says, grabbing the ball that'd rolled back towards them. He'll act impressed, though he finds nothing special about redundant specialities. Both hands rise up to his neck, imitating the way she'd adjusted her headphones, though all he grabs is air. Three rolls and he scores a one-ten. Oh, how tempting it was to waft the balls to get a solid three hundred. But alas. "And so, she continues to reign. Long live the Queen."

As they leave the game stalls and walk towards the food and drinks stands, he points to the headphones around her neck. "Quite the unusual accessory to bring to a carnival." A beat. "Unless they're magical headphones to cheat at Skeeball." That, he says for his own amusement.

[antondevlaux]

If Anton was pissed off before, he was furious now.

That fire, a raging inferno, twisted inside his gut. He was shifting from a man trying to save a customer from utter devastation from the look on his face: a lion defending its pride, locked onto the so-called witch. This was all for show, fake, and it only wound that rope tighter with each passing moment. He didn't know the man, but the fear etched on his face fueled Anton's anger. One step, two steps closer, fists clenched at his sides.

She was ripping him off, and causing distress. He hated witches, but he hated this more.

"What did you say to him?" a low growl filled barely restrained fury. "What do you gain from scaring young men with your lies? Everyone you see, you place false theories in their heads. Get a grip" The faux-purple-wearing-witch flinched but didn't respond. She knew best not too, Anton's glare could've cut through steel. Every muscle in his body tensed, but he held himself in check. Cricking his neck as he turned to the man once more.

"Dude...are you okay? You look like you're about to pass the fuck out" he asked, voice softening. Even as he felt the need to get him out of here, there was something he'd said to the woman that had him thinking, just for a moment, before he shook it from his mind. It wasn't his business what false stories she'd been feeding him, what mattered was getting him away before those lies began to feel real. They had a way of getting into people's heads. Tricks. They read people for a living.

"Whatever she said, it's bull."

[gasparlouvat]

Oh no, this has gone terribly wrong. A knot tightens in his stomach as he watches Anton get angrier and angrier. His heart pounds in his chest as a crippling sense of unease straps him in place. He could only sit with his nerves swirling around his guts and stare at the vein in Anton's neck protruding, jaw becoming tighter, eyes ablaze with a wildlike fire. The tent seems to shrink, only holding the space for Anton's anger as the heavy tension in the air continues to press down on him, making it harder to breathe.

He wants to say something. He wants to bravely stand up and put himself between Anton and Madame Zara. He wants to calmly explain to Anton that he was the one telling Madame Zara what to tell people. That the fear he feels is not because of Madame Zara's scams, but from the flashes of the future that have been plaguing him recently. He had to warn people to stay inside, but it couldn't come from him.

All he manages to do, however, is quietly stand up from his seat and take a step towards Anton so he's stood behind him. When Anton turns to address him, Rainer swallows thickly. For a beat or two, he simply stares. Then, meekly, he repeats himself: "You need to tell people to stay inside."

One of the heavy velvet curtains flanking the entrance of the tent is pinched between two fingers as Gaspar holds it open. "Rainer." A stern and sharp voice, cutting through the thick air that has amassed between the group. Immediately, Rainer grabs his bag and starts putting on his jacket.

"Do we have a problem here?" Gaspar's gaze glides from Rainer, to Zara, to Anton, then back to Rainer, knowing that his younger brother tends to cause problems for himself. "N-no. I'm ready to go," Rainer replies.

Then, his gaze shifts to the older man, partly looking for some clarification and partly to see if he was the cause of Rainer's upset. "Anton?"

[julesbishop]

Who: @thecursed-starters When: 31st of May, 1989 Where: The Carnival, Game Stalls

"It's not rigged, you're just not in the right mindset."

If there was one thing that Juliet Bishop loved, it was a damn good carnival game. Whether they were of chance, skill, or strength, the category hardly mattered when she could indulge in some truly mindless entertainment for a few hours. Juvenile? Maybe, but there happened to be a little girl she'd promised a giant unicorn to and like hell was the witch going back on her word. Kid tears were the worst kind.

Besides, all of the random sounds and music of the evening meant wearing her headphones a little less and gave her overused walkman a temporary reprieve. Win-win. "Look, watch and learn, okay? They don't call me the Skeeball Queen of the Eastern Seaboard for nothing." Nobody called her that.

[gasparlouvat]

"The Skeeball Queen of the Eastern Seaboard," Gaspar repeats slowly so that every syllable could have its moment. "It's quite the mouthful." No matter how lowly he thought of people, he did not believe anyone would deign to call her that.

Perhaps it was not rigged, but it had nothing to do with his mindset. In New Orleans, even when all the odds were stacked against his favour, he could stun those around him the impossible. Here, however, he had to mask his powers. Hide, patiently, in hopes that it'd draw others out of their shadows.

Gaspar tosses the ball in the air and catches it in his hand. "Well, then. Let's see what you've got." A challenge is held in his gaze when he turns to face her. "But the loser--" which would undoubtedly be him, "--has to buy the other a drink."

[gasparlouvat]

who: Gaspar & @luciancluna when: 31st May 1989 where: The Carnival, Ferris Wheel.

A harsh gush of wind passes through the trees like a scandalous whisper, drowning out the sound of children's screams and the screeching cackles of those undeserving. Gaspar sweeps his gaze across the crowd, silently confirming that he will keep true to his promise, even if that means the skies would bleed red. It both amused and disgusted him equally, to see how freely the witches were enjoying themselves, not knowing they were specks of dust beneath his nails and their world sat in the palm of his hand. Like a snow globe, all he has to do is flick his wrist for their world to turn upside down.

For now, however, Gaspar is here to hold up his end of the deal. So, when he spots Luciana Luna in the queue for the ferris wheel, he approaches her like someone with all the time in the world, like someone who has stumbled upon her incidentally.

The group of people in front step inside the passenger car, giggling away, though he couldn't quite possibly understand what they had to be so happy about. Then, the next car starts to come around and Gaspar promptly appears beside Luciana. "Do you mind if I jump in with you?" An apologetic smile. "I'm trying to hide from my brother."

[antondevlaux]

WHO: @thecursed-starters WHERE: The Carnival — Seer of Truths. WHEN: 31st of May, 2024.

Having been born a witch, there were a few things that he'd come to know: one...fortune tellers were just crack pots who liked to wear purple clothes, preaching spirituality while pretending that they could be one s...he didn't want to say it. How could anyone wish to be something so monstrously inhumane? For power they could rarely use. A carnival was meant to be a happy place, but Anton had never been the type. He detested everything about that "gift" that lived inside of him. What most believed from the TV or fiction books was a lie to turn the human's blind eyes from the truth: Because they couldn't handle it. Society was such a fragile thing, always on the cusp of greatness or crumbling down.

The entrance, with its false sense of cryptic symbols, flickering candles and a sign which proclaimed, "Madame Zara - Seer of Truths." With a snort of derision, shaking his head, hands dipped into his pockets with a heavy sigh. He would've usually avoided it all together, but maybe it was the sight of Jo elsewhere or the fact that his eyes kept finding it. Why the fuck not?

However, when he burst through the curtain, he realised his mistake: someone was getting a reading, hands raising in apology as that haggard old voice from the so-called mystic spoke.

“Welcome, Anton,” she said, her voice smooth, which was oddly out of place against the leathery look of skin, folded and creased in ways he'd never seen before.. “I’ve been expecting you.” Madame Zara beckoned, her finger bony and thin.

She could fuck right off, and shove that bony finger up her ass.

Anton’s eyes narrowed. “I doubt that,” and still her words unsettled him. Distrust immediately setting in like the ugly doubt that had been with him since he found his gifts, or...exploded with them. "Sorry for disturbing," he said to the other seated person as he turned to look at Madame Zara. "They seem like good, normal people —don't feed them this fuckin' nonsense."

"You wanna get out of here?"

[gasparlouvat]

"Please," Rainer begged quietly, desperate for someone, anyone, to believe him for once in his life. "You have to tell them."

Flashes of a full moon, a ravenous uncontrollable beast, frantic cries that chilled the night sky -- it'd plagued him for months without end. It had nothing to do with him. It had nothing to do with Gaspar. So why? He tried everything to make it stop because this wasn't like the other times. The dark, sinking feeling bore roots in his bones and made a home out of him. He felt sick. So, Gaspar allowed them a trip to Salem for the carnival, where Rainer could tell Madame Zelda to tell the people of Salem not to leave their homes in three weeks time. Even if it meant intruding on someone else's palm reading.

She didn't believe him, though. They never did. And why would she? His own brothers didn't take him seriously. But at least he could try.

When Anton suddenly appears in the tent, Rainer keeps his head down. A hand reaches up to cover the side of his face and fingers press against his temple. The Louvats were raised isolated from the rest of the covens in Ipswich, distrusting of everyone besides themselves. They kept their true identities hidden, even to those of the same ilk. But everyone knew of Anton, the witch turned hunter. And, whilst Rainer knew he'd stuck to the rule -- never use magic in Salem -- he grew paranoid if Anton had sensed the use of magic in the air.

Then, he hears Anton addressing him, and he supposes he couldn't avoid the guy forever. "It's--... It's not nonsense," he says timidly, softly clearing his throat as he finally lifts his head up to barely make eye-contact with Anton. Then, back to the human: "Stay inside. Don't leave your house."

[gasparlouvat]

Witch (NPC)

Character Name: Rainer Louvat Age: 24 Ascension Date: 1965 If Ascended What 3 Abilities Did They Gain?: Healing, clairvoyance, astral projection Current Location: Ipswich Occupation: Stable Boy at Hope Farm (Males Only): Never uses magic/feeds What ties them to Salem?: Following his brother's lead in his attempts to take back Salem Good traits: Empathetic, pacifist, gentle Bad traits: Sensitive, moody, spineless Background:

The seventh son and complete opposite of Gaspar.

Has a tremendous amount of love for him, so believes whatever he says more than he believes their dad. Which is silly, because Gaspar echoes whatever their dad had told them.

Their father thought Rainer was too weak, even before he even got his powers, and for the first time in their family had more sons to make up for it.

Everyone was surprised when Rainer survived the ascension, but his powers were deemed too soft. Never really taken seriously after that. Even as he warned Gaspar of the dreams he was having.

Mostly grew up on the farm, preferring to talk to animals over people.

Too sensitive, still grieving the two brothers that never made the ascension. Hates knowing the youngest two brothers will be offered to the warlock, feels like it's his fault.

Believes in their purpose, as they all do, but is noticing a change in Gaspar he doesn't like. He also doesn't want to die because he's scared.

Beginning to wonder whether he should warn the witches or reach out to green witches. But he loves his brother and doesn't want to disappoint him.

[charmedslayer]

MILO VENTIMIGLIA as Peter Petrelli HEROES (2006–2010) | 4.05 – “Tabula Rasa”