burn

imogen hayes. 28. watchman in the circle of nightfall. ''a warrior doesn't mourn the dead until the war is over.''

[imogenhayes-blog]

severin-ealing‌:

It was hard to debate some of what Immy said. Except finding anything else to do other than constantly be at war was his goal for the moment. Severin frowned. “What kind of curse?” Swiped at other covens seemed pointless now. But then his expression turned amused. “Who did you piss off in the Saints, Im? Thinking about a little revenge?” 

He wasn’t volunteering ideas, however he imagined she’d find a way to get back at whoever. And then he laughed with a duck of his head, biting down on his lip for a moment. “I wouldn’t have bet on it either. It’s not so bad. I’m learning. Doing something at least. Isn’t that what everyone wanted to begin with?” 

The last sentence coated his tongue heavy and bittersweet. It wasn’t a wish for him originally. His father had pushed Ethan harder, envisioned his other son to sit on the council one day. Severin’s brother would’ve be phenomenal as a council member. So far Sev wondered if he was only taking up space. A way to keep him occupied. “Do you know who I think could take them all? You. Go for the throat punch. Show ‘em who’s the real boss in town.” 

‘‘Sewage water.’‘ Imogen wrinkled her nose. ‘‘I think it’s starting to wear off. Either that, or I’m getting used to the taste. Kind of hoping it’s the former.’‘ Her lips twitched in a coy smile, and her head cocked ever so slightly. ‘‘Now why would you think I’m planning revenge? Do you take me for that kind of person?’‘ She definitely was. The next time she saw that little ferrety scumbag, Immy was going to turn him into a ferret himself.

Don’t we all want something to do? Immy asked herself that at his question. She wasn’t entirely sure. She wasn’t doing anything herself, yet to return to work. Imogen instead was avoiding everyone and everything. Keeping to herself to the disdain of her father, grandfather and uncles. 

‘’And risk being bitten by Nostradamus and contracting rabies? No thank you.’‘ Immy laughed. ‘‘I’d prefer to sit back and watch them take each other out before going in for the last kill. Why waste energy when you can have your enemies do it for you?’‘ 

[imogenhayes-blog]

minilocke‌:

Desperate times call for desperate measures. The words swirled around the witch’s head. There were moments when all rational thought was out the proverbial window and things one would have stayed away from had a way of suddenly seeming sensible. Those were always dangerous circumstances that others didn’t appear to catch soon enough in order to avert a crisis. Mini’s gaze was hard on the other woman. “Promise?” She requested. The war might have put a halt to their friendship, and Mini wasn’t the sort who would delude herself with the thought that they could pick up where they’d left off, but there were things one didn’t just forget.

Then, came the tricky question, something Mini had avoided considering or giving leeway to because no good ever stemmed from it. Yet, she couldn’t help but think happiness had a name and surname, and that’s where danger lived.

“Happiness is many things. My archives, my grimoires, and books, discovering something new that fills me with enthusiasm, having someone to share those with,” she stated, shoulders traveling with a shrug. She had only mildly skirted that question after all.

‘‘I promise.’‘ Imogen offered her another smile. She wouldn’t bring Carter back from the dead. He wouldn’t want that. And Imogen still wanted to live. She didn’t want to die yet. The act of bringing someone back from the dead -- it cost too much. Imogen was foolish, but she was also smart. Happiness was something that she didn’t want to think about anymore, because it always came down to the same questions: would she ever be happy again? How could she ever be happy again?

‘‘Don’t place too much faith in gaining happiness from another person, Mini.’‘ Her smile tightened. ‘‘You don’t want to end up like me.’‘ It was meant to sound like a joke, but it didn’t quite come out right. ‘‘I mean --, you know what I mean. Make your happiness yourself, Mini.’‘

[skaikru-100]

[imogenhayes-blog]

marieavgerosource‌:

[imogenhayes-blog]

Cold. It was cold and her back was wet. Her ears were ringing and Imogen struggled to open her eyes. She tried again, and again until they finally opened. Her eyes still felt heavy, and she felt dazed. As if someone had hit her over the head, hard. Where was she? 

The war.

Imogen’s hand grabbed hold of something wet, something hardening to ice in her hand. She shoved herself up, snow falling from her hair and shoulders as she looked around, trying to keep her panic at bay. How long had she been out for? Several more moments passed, ones in which she tried gripping at the fleeting memories of the past few hours that circled jumbled in her brain.

The war was over. It had been the poltergeist, a minor demon, Arlo. She had been in the town square, and now she... wasn’t. Imogen’s hand reached for the back of her head, it was pounding. She must have hit it when she was brought-- here. 

‘‘Where the hell am I?’‘ Imogen spoke out loud, a wince at how deafening her voice sounded to herself. A minor concussion maybe. She patted herself down, checking for any injuries, satisfied when she couldn’t feel any. The dark haired witch pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly in the snow before catching sight of someone else laying a few steps away in the snow.

‘‘Hey, hey you--’‘ Immy walked towards them, her eyes darting around her surroundings. She couldn’t hear Charlie, or see him. ‘‘Are you okay?’‘ Her first priority was anyone else she could see. Charlie was capable, he could handle himself. She would look for him afterwards. ‘‘Where the hell are we?’‘

@banavett @valko-rathmore @tempest-wood @severin-ealing @regan-oconnor (just grab this and shove it in a new post!)

[imogenhayes-blog]

tempest-wood‌:

Tempest squeezed between the bodies. She muttered an apology when she stepped on someone else’s foot. She was looking forward to going home after all this. A warm bath and a good book was exactly what she needed on a snowy evening such as this. Greengardens had been an adventurous little search, but she was glad someone else had found the culprit. She didn’t really want to think about the kind of trouble they would have been in if she and the two others she’d been with had found the thing on its own.

She looked over when she heard her name, thinking it would be her sister. Similar dark hair. The bouncing witch was not who she was expecting though. Tempest hurried the last couple steps, closing the distance between them anyway. If she hesitated, there was no telling who she might get stuck next to instead. She took Rowan’s hand with a shy smile, and picked up the nearest hand on her other side.

@imogenhayes​

They weren't the last ones there. But she definitely felt Hayes eyes on her. Imogen grimaced, joining the circle and grabbing Tempest's hand as Charlie squeezed his large black body in between them. "All this for a fucking poltergeist." Immy murmured, her eyebrows arched and hand reaching for the next person. "This better be one hell of a poltergeist, or I'll eat my shoe."

Her eyes flickered up to meet Ambrosia's and she stilled for a moment, realising who's hand she had taken. She hadn’t seen her since -- well, since the Circle of Nightfall had taken the woman prisoner. But then Imogen composed herself, teeth baring in the half hearty grin she gave the woman. "Fucking poltergeists, huh?"

@ambrosia-atwood

[imogenhayes-blog]

banavett‌:

Imogen nudged him and smiled, and Ban couldn’t help but smile back at her. He was certain they’d fought each other at some point during the long bloody five years. But all he remembered was the night they called a truce. Guarded against the night and the cold by each other’s mostly silent presence. They didn’t have a conversation except for a few words exchanged about setting up camp. It was a strange few hours thinking how easily Ban could settle in with the enemy. Unsettling, to say the least.

Ban nodded when Imogen explained that she wasn’t on duty. Being a watchman came dangerously close to being a soldier at times. But Ban hadn’t settled back into a routine, still catching himself worked up into an anxious fit wondering what was lurking in the shadows, who was out to get him. The answer was nothing and no one.

“Something’s going on in the woods.” The very woods they were walking through down a hardly used path leading toward his house. “The wind… Sometimes I hear voices.” Ban glanced sidelong at her with a pointed glare. “Not like that.” He knew what she’d say to that. “The dead are trying to tell us something.” Or maybe he really was going crazy.

Eventually they reached the house, and his familiar Sally popped into the front window with her paws on the back of the chair sitting by it. She started barking and howling at the newcomer and her familiar. “Sally, stop it,” Ban scolded her as he opened the door. Sally was running circles around the house as they stepped inside. “Have a seat. You want something to drink?”

‘‘You sure that’s the wind and not--’‘ She began, but fell silent, a grin on her lips as he beat her to it. He wasn’t crazy. Immy knew it, Ban knew it. Everyone knew it. He most likely wasn’t the first to hear things. ‘‘I’ve been having dreams. In the middle of the day.’‘ She admitted. Dreams, they weren’t blackouts, she remembered what happened during the blackouts. 

Almost everyday now Imogen had found herself walking back towards the battlefields. But waking up, just before she would cross one of the other Coven’s lines. Or being woken up. She wasn’t sure.Immy just knew that she was one of those who seemed to be an easy target recently for the dark ones. ‘’Something, or things, is trying to get me to cross the treaty. And I bet I’m not the only one it’s been happening to.’’

Sally’s barking sent Charlie’s hairs on end, he didn’t make a sound but Immy felt the growl bubbling up until her hand fell on the back of his neck to calm him. They entered the house, and Immy shifted her weight from one foot to the other before perching on the edge of a chair. ‘’Yeah, I’ll have something cold. Strong, preferably. Nice place.’’ The woman murmured, her eyes scanning around the room.

[imogenhayes-blog]

zadie-maclain‌:

“Nothin’.”

If Zadie knew how to do anything, she knew how to bide her time. Nice and slow, waiting for the right moment, the right millisecond to strike. There was nothing to be gained from an attack in broad daylight.

Her head lolled to the side, glancing at the other woman. “Go on, then.” Zadie’s chin jerked. “Get going. Don’t make a scene, Immy.”

A small smile – the smallest, barest flicker of amusement – crossed her lips.

“Like you do.”

Immy smiled. Don’t make a scene. She was that person after all. And maybe Zadie knew that better than others. Zadie knew what to look for in Imogen’s eyes, the brief split second glint before Immy would drop anything she was holding, draw herself up to full height -- which wasn’t much, and then make the scene.

‘‘Me? Make a scene? Zadie, I wouldn’t dream of it.’‘ Immy drawled. And maybe she wouldn’t dream of it. No, it would just happen. She wouldn’t give it much thought until after. Nine out of ten times the scenes usually worked in her favour. 

Immy didn’t have anything better to do. A moments of consideration and she settled against the lamppost, hands tucked away in the pockets of her leather jacket. ‘’We’ll keep you company.’’ Immy decided. ‘’And I vote we throw rocks at him.’’ She added as an afterthought.

[imogenhayes-blog]

lockedown-spencer‌:

Spencer shrugged as he glanced over at his childhood home, the barn that has seen better days. Dex had done a fine job of taking over the farm but with the Unholy Saints taking it over, letting it fall apart under their watch, there was quite a lot of work needed to get the farm fully functional again. 

“Alright,” He said with a nod. It was true, it was alright. His heart wasn’t in it. But he knew it was for the best for his siblings and that had to be his priority at the moment. “He’s alright. We barely know each other now. It’s all strange. All of this is just an adjustment period.” He said with a nod, taking a sip of his beer as he shrugged.

‘‘You should be proud of him.’‘ She swirled the contents of her beer around, her eyes on the bottle. ‘‘I helped take the farm back, he did good with what little he could.’‘ A dark subject, one that she was happy to skip over as soon as she could. Imogen drank, tilting the bottle up and then flicking her tongue along her lips. Alright he said. Everyone said alright. But no one was alright and everyone knew that. It just seemed to be a standard thing now. You had to ask someone how they were and they had to answer with alright. Because Gods forbid someone wasn’t okay. And no one wanted to talk about the war. What they might have seen there, or what they might have done.

‘‘We should take the horses out soon again. Go off trail like we used to. See what we can find.’’ A change of subject, a subject of before. When everyone was actually and truthfully alright. Before shit hit the fan.

[imogenhayes-blog]

wildmansoul‌:

Eli gave a light shrug, “Well, you’d get a tour guide out of me if you did decide to go scaling mountains,” he said with a lopsided smile.

He cast his eyes down and gave a small nod, “That’s a brave thing to do, I know a lot would have chosen to cling to those memories,” and let themselves remain as ghosts right alongside their loved ones. He shook his head, “I’ve still got the Vallair property to look after,” she gave her a small smile, then a resigned nod, “And I should fear the good Madame’s wrath from beyond the grave, there was quite a strong suggestion,” a threat, “In her testament of refraining from letting the house go,” perhaps truly it had been the Madame’s nagging spirit that had driven him back from the mountains, he sighed at the thought.

He canted his head to her, “Do you have a place to stay for the night? I’ve got a spare bed if you need one,” he offered.

"I wouldn't want to impose." Imogen was quick with a shake of her head. No, she couldn't bare staying anywhere but her cottage on the outskirts of town. She hated being there, there were too many memories. But at the same time, it was the only bit of home she had left. Immy hadn't seen Carter yet. And she knew that she wouldn't. He would have crossed over immediately, he wouldn't have risked getting stuck on earth as a malicious being. He was smarter than that.

But she knew it was just a matter of time before something else picked up on the darkness in her mind and appeared. Imogen had warded her property immediately, but the threat of something attaching itself to her and coming in that way was very possible.

[imogenhayes-blog]

minilocke‌:

A myriad of emotions, thoughts, seemed to cross through Imogen’s eyes while Mini waited for a response. A beat passed. Then, two. The silence that fell between the two women didn’t last for long, yet, while the brunette worked on taking everything in, those few seconds seemed like an eternity.

A cold breeze blew past the two of them, and Mini hugged herself, clinging closer to the warmth of her coat.

I want Carter back, the words echoed inside her head, and a few nods of acknowledgment came from the archivist. The war had taken a toll on all of them. They had all lost someone they knew, someone they cared about. Empathy, however, didn’t make things a whole lot easier. Not in times like that. Mini opened her mouth, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth with a sound. “That’s dangerous, Imogen,” she contended, aware that the other woman would already know of that. And, as the question came back to her, Mini found herself in a contemplative mood.

There were things she truly wanted in life, she could not deny that. Yet, there was one recurring thought inside her head, one that ended up making her snort, even though Imogen would probably not know the reason why. Mini shook her head slightly. “I guess it might sum up to happiness,” she eventually responded. The answer might have been evasive, though, in the end, everything she could ever want could be abridged by that single word.

"I know." Immy sighed, her shoulders falling as she seemed to just cave in on herself. Her lips pressed together, she could feel the heat of tears threatening in the back of her eyes but she had no more to cry, and so she didn't. "I know it's dangerous. Don't worry, I'm not going to pull a stunt like that."

Happiness.

"Everyone wants to be happy." Immy mused. "No one seems to think content is good enough for them." Her eyes fell on Mini. "And what is happiness for you?"

[imogenhayes-blog]

severin-ealing‌:

Listening to Immy joke, his brows jolted upwards with a laugh. He kidded right back. “Uhm, easy there tiger. Threatening violence on me? How unlike you, Im.” The warlock’s smile grew tighter after as he looked to a low wall where Lou had temporarily perched. “My life’s goal was not to sit around and talk, that’s for sure.” It was.. something. Something he didn’t ask for, the same as he didn’t ask for Immy to be impressed, however he imagined it to be more a personal remark on the appearance Severin had gotten his shit together. 

“But uh, we’ll see how it goes.” He didn’t like talking about hostilities however the image of three leaders and a bitter tea party was amusing. And not one he could contradict. “Maybe tea is code word for cage match. They are just gonna go at it. With the diseased overgrown rat as the referee.” A decidedly un-councilman like thing to say. 

We’ll be back at active war again finally. Finally. “You don’t really want that Immy.” But again, she was likely right. He wished she wasn’t and tried to be lighter. “Like the couple that keeps breaking up and getting back together, over and over, just without the make-up sex. This is the fate of the valley? Nothing but following the pattern of a bad relationship?”

"Don't I? At least the war gave us something to do, other than walking around each other on tiptoes. I'm pretty sure someone from the Unholy Saints put a curse on me this morning." Imogen wrinkled her nose. It was a small curse, nothing she couldn't deal with. Every time she tried drinking something it just tasted like sewer water. And face it, she probably deserved it.

Imogen peered at Sev, a crooked and wry smile on her face. "Why did you join the council if you don't want to be sat around doing nothing? You know, I don't think I would have put money on you joining the council."

"... my money in that cage fight is on Mama O'Connor."

[imogenhayes-blog]

stella-dawes‌:

Stella ducked, a red flash across the room as Cicero leapt toward her and narrowly dodged the barrier that fell down around them. It’s here, he clipped, his pointed features turned toward Stella. No shit.

One hand on the nape of his neck, Stella began to whisper a rhyme. An old one, taught to babies in the Community, rhythmic and light until it was invoked with force. And she used force. A gold thread shot out from under her feet, snaking around the perimeter of the room. Every surface, every exit, every window and door and vent in the floor, it wrapped around like ribbon, until the whole room was alight in a golden glow. A locking spell. Anything inside the room, anything there with them, would stay. It reached the front door, thrown open by the dog, and slammed it with a silent force.

Stella rose, raising an eyebrow at her companion.

“Well then.” A sniff.

They could surely lock up a poltergeist, right?

“You were saying?”

Her lips pursed, annoyance flashed through her. Imogen didn't like being wrong. She exhaled through her nose, her eyes closing briefly as she ran through tactical plans in her mind. "We keep it here." Obviously. "Trap it in--" her eyes opened, flickering around the room for anything that could be used to contain a poltergeist. "--something. One of the metal drawers perhaps. Of course it will be easier if any of these are laced with iron."

Then she paused. Stella had locked up the building anyway. With them in it. Hardly ideal but still. A toss of her hair and she pushed away from the wall, striding towards the vault. "Lets just open this and be done with it. All I'm asking for is one day without things breaking around me." Imogen grumbled.

[mikhaelthorson-deactivated20190]

imogenhayes‌:

He looked like he was about to vomit and Immy shifted back into her seat, just a precaution of course. In cause he was going to be sick. “Are you okay?” Immy asked cautiously, both her brows raising. They only raised more at his reply and her lips quirked upwards. Her lips parted and a laugh bubbled up from her throat.

“Declan.”

Her finger tapped on the pile of two books in front of her in answer to him and she smiled coyly at the younger Locke. The boy she had grown up around but who had always just been Spencer’s brother. From a young age he had witness the hurricane that was Imogen Hayes. Hurling through doors in his own house uninvited, being there one moment and gone the next. Onto the next room in search for Spencer.

Several encounters had been poorly timed, the poor boy witnessing his own bedroom door being thrown open by the impatient dark haired witch in the middle of changing. Imogen had never paid him any mind, until the day she came in with the rest of the soldiers to take back the Locke farm in full force. Something had changed that day, they had become partners in the war. And that was a bond that wasn’t easily broken by anything. Even his seemingly eagerness over buying erotica novels from her.

Declan didn’t blush, which was a godsend because it would have made him look far too cute for any boy or girl to ever consider him remotely attractive. But he could, and did, flush all over his chest with embarrassment. Self-conscious about it, he tugged his shirt collar up to hide the splashes of red. “I’m fine, it’s cool. Just … warm in here, that’s all.” His foot tapped out a staccato rhythm on the floor as he desperately tried to use up the ridiculous amounts of nervous energy he suddenly had. 

She tapped the books but at first he was distracted by her smile. She didn’t do that nearly enough, but he couldn’t exactly tell her to smile or anything. He just wished he was better at making her. Looking down, he saw the books, and realized what she was asking, flushing again. “Oh, right, uhhhhhh … I’m not sure they’re my kind of thing.” He was certain they weren’t. “Maybe you should just take them back? You have the receipt.” He supposed he could return them for her, if she didn’t feel so inclined. The humiliation of having to return smutty romance novels couldn’t be that bad if it made Imogen happy. “I can do it for you.” If only she knew that he would take on any quest for her if she only asked.

[imogenhayes-blog]

She smiled, a lopsided one. One that didn't quite meet her eyes but still, it was a smile. Immy drained the rest of her cold coffee, she had been sat here for quite a while. "It's okay, I'll bring them back. I'm after some gardening books myself anyway." Gods knew Immy needed them if she was going to actually do something with that thing she called a garden. Not that she was hopeful for it. Immy had been born with the exact opposite of a green thumb.

A curious glance, her eyes flickering to Charlie behind her chair to Declan opposite her. No donkey. No one could miss Grisha, everyone knew as soon as he entered the room. "Where's your better half?" She asked when standing up, grabbing her leather jacket from her chair and shrugging it on. The witch pulled her beanie on and picked up the books. "Wanna come?"

[imogenhayes-blog]

[imogenhayes-blog]

“When did this turn into an ugly sweater party?” (flashback meme? ~ six years ago)

'’When Nana Nina decided to come to town.’’ Imogen slipped into the chair besides Zadie, hastily smoothing out her hair while scratching at her side. These home knitted jumpers were so darn itchy, it had been an absolute relief to have it off for the whole twenty minutes she had snuck away with Carter for. 

‘’Reckon anyone noticed I was gone?’’ She caught the eye of Nana Nina, the old woman’s stare almost enough to turn Immy to stone. A shiver ran down her back. It had been noticed. Immy nudged Zadie in the side, leaning in to whisper in her ear. ‘’Remind me next year to fake my own death so I don’t have to come again’’

[imogenhayes-blog]

⚰️ = How would the loss of a family member affect them? Does it vary based on type of family member?

Imogen first witnessed loss when her mother died. It was devastating, the worst day of her life. Or so she thought, until her husband Carter died. She has now lost the two people in her life that she was closest to. A piece of her died along with her husband. 

Imogen is no stranger to grief, being a soldier she has seen grief often enough. But she is a stranger to her own grief. Immy doesn’t quite know how to deal with it, not willing to appear weak in front of others. So instead of coping with it healthily, Immy drowns in it.