always feed the fire

Oz. Twenty-four. Performer. Coven of Sol. "He's mad, but he's magic. There's no lie in his fire."

[bwboysgallery-deactivated202007]

What’s stopping you everyday from going out there and doing what you really want to do or giving 110 percent to things you really want to do?

[solely-oz]

The Ignorant Isle  //  Anton & Oz

[solely-oz]

antonhilmorsson:

If there was anything Anton was prepared for– it was war. 

It was something easy to overlook in him. Especially for what his pack had been known for. Their brand was the rune for Peace, and their people were open for all lupis wolves around the world to seek sanctuary– once upon a time. But peace is harder to keep than people realize and Anton, though sought lesser violent alternatives, he was an Alpha Born who battled an army until the ice turned red with his entire family and swallowed him up.

News from Wayward Harbor reached his attuned ears quickly being that he had just left Athoria in what was probably moments before anything felt suspicious. Anton picked apart the rumors, he saw the signs as if the Queen was writing them in the sky herself. There was a change in wind– the softest reminders that his mother whispered in his ears and alerted him to a feeling he hadn’t felt since Iceland and stood upon the edge of their home and watched the army appear out of the snow.

He needed to speak to the King. Not Jacob. No…the demon Anton and Lailah talked about between the sheets when he wanted to understand how this entire place worked. He knew of an ancient pack within the Forest of Dean being that he ran to Wayward Harbor so often. So well hidden even Anton hadn’t seen them from the edges but the line was there as scents stun his nose and made even his instincts tell him to walk away. Maybe it was time they had a leader. 

He turned. Head buzzing with concerns and losses. 

“I am heading to the castle– is that where you are going? Court should be happening soon,”

Oz was honestly pleasantly taken off-guard by the man’s admittance about where he was going. It wasn’t everyday that Oz came across someone who was heading in the direction of the castle, and the man said it in such a way that Oz doubted he would be turned away from seeing whoever he demanded to. It was exciting enough to cause his grin to spread just a little wider, and it seemed to make a stronger, warmer light exude from him than had even a moment before the chance to hop on board with this adventure that the man seemed to be heading on. Was it even an adventure for the man? Well, the adventure for Oz would lie within finding out the very answer to that question, it seemed.

“I was planning to go where the next location was that someone mentioned to me, and I am so glad to hear that it may be a place with some hearths to provide some warmth,” he replied, grin turning cheeky and knowing for a moment, as if there was ever a time where he would need to seek a hearth for fire to warm himself. “At the very least, I am just happy you did not say you were on your way to Hereford. That would hardly make my travels more enjoyable at all, and I do like to avoid boring and dismal traveling. It’s bad for one’s health, so someone supposedly of repute said once many years ago, I believe.”

He was talking almost too fast to keep up, but that was simply the way Oz was, and he was already moving to step alongside the other man. Reaching out, he patted a hand on the man’s shoulders and continued walking in the direction he seemed to have been heading. “My name is Oz, just so you know. One should never make a new companion without learning at least their name, even if it will be forgotten. You look like a Bronson or a Warrick or a Stewart, but I will allow you to actually tell me your name before I make any further assumptions. Am I heading in the right direction? I would say I hate to look the fool so early after meeting someone, but I should think it wouldn’t be hard to believe I do it very often.”

[president-verin-blog]

Tasks & Deals FB - Verin&Oz

[solely-oz]

president-verin:

Verin didn’t care for personal space usually. It wasn’t odd to notice the discomfort he gave to most people who found themselves on the receiving side of his touch without expecting it. Though there was something brilliant about this man. A beacon that burned hotly under his skin like he held the damn sun every morning. His words were filled with other meanings and yet weighted in non sense to the demon who found his explanation at the very least honest. The laugh wrapped the cold snake in a radiance, as if the joyous personality before him was demanding he too have a good time simply because he was. 

How strange. 

“I see,” came a proper set of words. Short and some how explaining all the racing thoughts through Verin’s head. Usually coin worked to allow him a chance to not have to work so hard at discovering what the humans were up too. His men were whispering in their hands about moving on, and letting the other go but Verin loved a challenge– he loved people who were different and sparked a curiousness that lead him to wanting to know more because of their rarity. 

“Than maybe I can have my men leave us be and we can attempt a stroll together? Is that appropriate to you? I’m finding their presence quite boring, look at them– mumbling about to themselves when you are here before me offering honesty most don’t dare to speak without concern of consequences,” the tall man turned gently to allow the other man to see his men better. The one was Sabnac, his lead guard, who was in a stunning vessel with tattoo’s and a mean eye. Which was naturally glaring his way now. 

“Norwich people, I am afraid are set on being stubborn and boring. Spare me your time then if you won’t take the coin?” he slithered out with a coy grin, and honeyed tone. 

Oz let his eyes drift over to the man accompanying Verin, trying not to appear to smug that he had captured the attention of a stranger more than his friends seemed to be able to. Letting out a boisterous laugh, he nodded quickly in agreement before the man was even finished speaking. Consequences? Oz had his way of dealing with consequences, and it often led to him not dealing with them at all. He was a man who preferred to create ash out of the things that should haunt him, not to let them make ash out of him. And if this man before him was intrigued, then Oz was willing to oblige and keep him company for a walk around the area. Besides, he seemed like the proper kind of person that some in the Coven preferred to keep in their company, and he may learn a thing or two about how to act in such a way. It might even help him with his acts.

Catching a better look of the men, Oz knew that it was all meant to be an intimidating display. He’d put on intimidating displays before, though, and been at the receiving end of them much more often. Did it make the back of his neck prickle slightly and his stomach contract quickly? Naturally, yes, he was only a man, but he was still able to retain his warm smile and friendly appearance even in the face of such glaring looks.

“Have you met the people from Chile Village? Just as bad,” Oz declared jovially, flashing a daring smile at the other men despite really meaning no harm and not intentionally trying to rile them up. It was simply too difficult to let opportunities for such remarks to get away from him. “I would be more than happy to spare you my time. I hardly have time for myself these days, it seems, but a day off and in such a nice place with so many things going on, how could I not indulge you? You seem like a very smart man, so I will let you lead the way, but do forgive me if I try to take over and lead instead.”

[solely-oz]

The Ignorant Isle  //  Anton & Oz

Oz had departed from Chile Village as if there was an angry mob hot on his heels once again, and this time he wasn’t going to let them or their duplicates or whatever those things were roaming around put him back on the pyre again. For all the cockiness he could possess naturally and by painting on a face, he knew not to test his luck with a burning stake again. Whether that creature he saw was a phoenix or not, he wasn’t going to go through burning alive again to figure it out. So he’d fled from the Village, breathless and nearly unable to walk as he arrived in the next nearest village he found and secured a horse to take him to the Ports. He used all the remaining coins on him to pay for the horse and for passage onto a ship that was departing from England within moments of him arriving on the docks to inquire. 

That had been weeks ago, and it was the first time since arriving at the School that he spent more time with his nose buried in a book than trying to get away with reading as little as possible. He wanted to call on Freya for guidance, for some kind of explanation, but he knew that there had to be too many others who were interested in talking with the woman. Young as she was in the eyes of some, her name was enough to convince people that she still must hold great wisdom beyond her years. Was that really the power of a last name? If it was, Oz was glad to not be burdened with one. Especially not when he was now burdened with more than he’d ever anticipated. 

To look into one’s own eyes is a chilling experience, and he still cannot entirely recall some of the things he did afterward. He remembers the two boys who looked alike, though. Remembers one getting struck with an arrow with precision that would have awed him if it didn’t split his heart in half to see something with so little life destroyed. As much as he wanted to seek out the advice of the older members of the Coven when he returned, he instead opted to simply find as many scrolls and books as he could, determined to get an answer for himself for once. There were so many things he needed answers. How could duplications of a person occur? He knew it was not simply someone who looked like him - it was him. How could he be certain he was the real Oz? And then there was the subject he always approached with reluctance: mental magic and how it feels when one is under the influence of it. He doesn’t remember what occurred before, but he remembers suddenly feeling as though he was not the only person in charge of his own mind. Freya would know, but... Freya was needed.

This was the first time he’d travelled out of Nottingham since returning home. He needed to perform more frequently than usual, rely on the good will of some of his friends to allow him to join them in a piece so he could get a cut of it. Too much of his money had been wasted on his trip to Athoria, and though there was little he ever saved for aside from costume and props, he didn’t like feeling so relieved at the sight of a flashing coin as it was flicked toward him. It made him feel too much like he was a child in Chile again, trying to cover up his begging by making it seem like a show with songs and stories. Now he had his fire, though, and it drew in more money. And it helped him to feel as though he did it all for more than just the coins and compliments tossed his way.

He was in desperate need of a break from the School and Nottingham as a whole, though, and decided it was perhaps time to take his show on the road for a few days. Finding himself in an unfamiliar location, however, he quickly wasted no time in approaching a man who he convinced himself looked both local and helpful and waved to get his attention. “Excuse me, I seem to have turned myself around too many times. I’m a little lost, could you help me?”

[president-verin-blog]

Tasks & Deals FB - Verin&Oz

[solely-oz]

president-verin:

His hand reached out instantly, coiling like a snake around the other’s wrists to pause his eccentric jumble of half-given apologizes. Verin could appear of higher status if one gazed at him without knowing his titles, dressed impeccably with dark leather pants and a hunter green vest sewn with silver threads. Jewels adorned many fingers, each one carved with perfecting runes and laced with metals to burn on contact to certain species. But nothing sparked in the necessary contact, luckily for this man. Too many times thieves have attempted this same scene, a bump into him ‘by mistake’ then his coin purse is missing. 

He released his cruelly tight hold. 

“Have a good day?” he inquired, there was something going on in the city today and he hadn’t been privy to what exactly that was. His gaze lingered about their immediate space, but a sneer was ever plastered on his lips in disapproval. Feeling the weight of all his goods on his person untouched he rather sighed in annoyance. “You seem a man who knows whats going on around here– and I’d rather not have more people running into me.” 

Verin reach out towards one of his guards who placed two silver in his upright palm. Darkness filled around his center iris’, Verin’s height tend to put him above everyone around him but he’s adapted to appearing like he was constantly looking down upon everyone around him. He held out the coin to the man– “Care to make some extra coins and show me around?”

Oz froze quite suddenly when the hand grabbed his wrist. He was hardly a man adverse to touch; in fact, there were many cases where he’d offered it unwanted and had to quickly retract his hand before another’s ended up striking his face. The way the man’s fingers curled around his wrist suddenly transported him back to when he was a young boy, caught trying to grab a ripe piece of fruit from someone’s cart. He used to be so small and frail, they could snatch his wrist and send him flying halfway across the marketplace in a second. Tears would well in his eyes when he hit the ground, but laughter would escape his lips and he’d go skittering off so the cruel merchants never saw him cry over their mistreatment.

When the man’s grip was released, Oz pulled his arm back a bit too quickly to give away how much the contact had affected him. His eyes scanned over the man, taking note of his attire and able to tell that it was no costume meant to just mimic a rich man’s clothes, but actually a rich man’s clothes. “I haven’t an idea what’s going on, aside from a wonderful time,” Oz stated, sounding more defensive than he intended. He took a deep breath and rocked back and for a little before bouncing suddenly on his toes, feeling as though he was a tired man getting a second wind. “But isn’t a wonderful time all that’s needed for a day to be remarkable? The best things happen on the best days, and the best days happen when the best things occur. A man doesn’t need to know what’s going on, only that something is and that’s it’s enjoyable.”

Oz let out a genuinely amused laugh as he looked down at the two silver coins, not because he found the amount eager, but because he knew how pointless it was to ask him such a thing. “Sir, if I may, you walk as if you know your way around these streets and paths more than I do. My accent is Athorian, but my heart is foreign, and my skills of navigation in unknown places completely absent. The only direction I could tell you is which way that man over there may spit next, but otherwise I would certainly lead you to no man’s land or no land meant for man.”

[solely-oz]

Definitions of Love For The Signs

(feel free to check Venus, secondly Mars or Moon)

aries: (n.) the condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.

taurus: (n.) an unconditional commitment to an imperfect person.

gemini: (v.) the act of knowing and accepting someone, flaws and all.

cancer: (v.) a feeling of home and familiarity.

leo: (n.) when someone sings a song only you two hear.

virgo: (v.) to give and seek nothing in return.

libra: (v.) to see someone as God intended him.

scorpio: (n.) the state of being oblivious to negative infinite romantic possibilities.

sagittarius: (n.) the foundation of Earth, what the world and society was intended to be structured upon.

capricorn: (v.) the act of building a heaven in hell, to ease.

aquarius: (n.) when someone's weirdness is compatible with yours.

pisces: (n.) a condition in which their is deeper season and not reason.

[president-verin-blog]

Tasks & Deals FB - Verin&Oz

[solely-oz]

president-verin:

@solely-oz

Verin and two of his closest friends and bodyguards moved through the packed streets of the city. There was a lot happening today it seemed. Cobblestones were being repaired around every corner, various houses were seeing new structural decorations or paints. Flowers littered every little nook and cranny in overflowing pots, and countless flower crowns laid upon every head– his own included much to Sabnac’s joyful laugh over it. The air was pungent in overwhelming scents. From shipments of spices, and fish from the Harbor. Market was always an invigorating way to wake up too.

“Is something happening today that I missed?” Verin humored to ask, amusement was surprisingly wrapped around the tall man. Children were playing with a swine stomach filled with air. The leather bounced down the street to be kicked into another direction.

“It forever amuses me the similarities Hell and Earth can have on days like today,” he mused greatly, folding his hands into his front pockets and continued to walk through the crowds. “Work, work, work. Those damaged souls will turn into hellish minions for us all to use– to work and fuel us in the end. Work until they completely don’t exist anymore. How boring am I right? I remember the day I rose from the sands. The day I devoured and defeated everything around me.”

Verin suddenly frowned. Thinking on Hell wasn’t ever a pleasantry. “Come, lets see what is around, maybe we can trick a few people to sell their souls today.”

It’d been some time since Oz was last in Athoria, but it wasn’t something he dreaded. He was running an errand for someone else in the Coven, just a minor courier trip, but he was doing it in exchange for them to pay for fabric for the new costumes he wished to create. On his daily wear, he spent so little it was almost laughable, especially next to what he spent on attire for his performances. All the world was certainly a stage in his mind, but some stages were more raised than others. Whether it was a street corner in Nottingham or a real stage, when he said the performance began, he wanted to look the part as much as act it. When he was traveling and going about daily life, his clothing was far less noticeable and attention-grabbing. His tunics and pants were still normally dyed a deep red or brown, and his boots normally fairly scuffed and flecked with dirty. He didn’t clean them too frequently on the grounds that they had just as many stories to tell as he did, so long as he didn’t wash those stories away.

After arriving in Brailston, Oz didn’t even stop to find an inn where he might rest for some food and pay for a room for the night. Instead he started to roam around the bustling city, a broad grin on his face. When someone ran by and tossed a flower crown onto his head rather haphazardly, he paused only to fix it so it felt more in place and then continued on his way. His feet would ache at the end of the day from so much walking, he knew that, but he honestly didn’t care. There was so much to see in the city, even more so than in Nottingham. It was different, though. In Nottingham, it was all about putting on a show. In Brailston, it was real life, and it was still just as exciting and unpredictable. 

As he walked along, he barely paid attention to where he was going, and nearly tripped over various misplaced flower pots, building stones, and children. He was so distracted by looking around him that he didn’t see what was right in front of him, and ended up walking straight into a man who had his back to Oz. “Sorry, sir,” Oz apologized only half-heartedly, too busy laughing over his own obliviousness to really put much thought into how genuine he should be. “Wasn’t watching where I was going. Have a good day.”

[tannerabbitt]

Oz / Tanner || Do You Smell Trouble? || SWP

[solely-oz]

solely-oz:

tannerabbitt:

If he had time later, Tanner would be more than happy to show Oz a thing or two about shooting arrows. After all, if there was at least one thing he had perfected during his time in Vargulf it was crafting for the warriors. He tried to make the arrows as precisely as he could, as well-made as he would want them for himself. But Oz pointing behind him caught his attention more, and Tanner swung around almost instantly in anticipation.

He wasn’t wrong; the boy who had exited the smith shop looked just like him.

“Whoa…”

Tanner had been a twin his whole mortal life, all fourteen years of it. He was used to seeing himself on a daily basis, though as a child his hair was longer and shaggier and Tucker’s had always been so finely cut, like he was a prince or something. But they had been the same size, had the same voice…it didn’t take him long to get used to seeing his reflection everywhere he went. But for the last thirty-five years, Tanner had been without his twin. He was taken aback only for a few seconds…staring more in awe than he did in confusion. Memories of Tucker swarmed him like a storm. The emotion that began to swell in his chest was unlike anything he had every felt before. Parts of him wanted to rush out and hug him, wrestle him to the ground and mess up that hair. Others want to throw that arrow right through his chest out of anger and spite, for pushing Tanner to run away in the first place.

The doppelganger had stopped too, his eyes switching back ad forth from Oz to Tanner. The collection of wood he was carrying dropped to his feet, and his mouth went agape.

“Tucker?!” he then hollered, a booming sound that surprised Tanner. The wolf child looked behind him, as if for some reason there would be yet another version of him standing somewhere else, because he couldn’t possibly be talking to him. He looked back at Oz and shrugged.

“I’m Tanner! Who are you?” he managed to shout in confusion to the boy who looked just like him.

“I’m Tanner!”

“What?”

“What?!”

Silence befell them as the shock settled in. Tanner gulped and took a few steps towards his brother, or himself…or this impostor…whoever he was. He put out his hands in friendly approach.

“Look, my name is Tanner. I heard that there was someone here who looked like me around here…I had a brother a long time ago, his name was Tucker too…are you…are you real?”

“Of course I’m real! Are you?!”

Tanner patted his arms and chest just to make sure.

“Yeah, yeah I’m real,”

Keep reading

Oz rocked back on his heels and watched as the boy he knew as Tanner approached the other who looked just like him. When he spoke a name, Oz’s immediate assumption was that it must be a twin or a sibling, but the response caused his jaw to drop with juvenile amazement and awe. They were both Tanner? How was that even possible? What could have caused this?

He knew the answer, deep down and far back in his mind, behind a locked door with a heavy, dark curtain covering it. Magic. Magic could make a person look like someone they weren’t, magic could make someone sound like someone they weren’t. A good enough potion, or spell, or even a special kind of gift, they could all make someone what they weren’t. But this wasn’t the Oz who knew about magic, who understood what stirred within him, who knew what could be done with a few special words muttered by gifted lips. This was a young, ignorant Oz, who bounced giddily on his toes as he watched the exchange between the look-a-likes with earnestness and excitement. 

It was just starting to get good when something happened. They were just starting to talk about the Tucker that Tanner the First thought Tanner the Second actually was, and Oz leaned forward as though he was watching the climax of a wonderful performance. All it took was one blink to make him stand up straight, his mind suddenly feeling as though something had lassoed around it. It was warm and familiar, like his own mind searching through itself. It tore the curtain down with a flash of light, it broke down the door with a fiery blast, and it sent something terrifying rushing forward to the front of his mind with such speed and vehemence it weakened his knees and caused a sharp gasp to escape him. 

He managed to catch himself with his hands in the dirt before he completely collapsed onto the ground, his vision going blurry for a few moments. He could barely process what the boys were saying anymore, the curious boys who looked alike and claimed to be the other but didn’t seem to know each other. They were young, probably barely into their adolescent years, and it occurred to Oz quite suddenly that they couldn’t possibly stop to think about the more dire consequences of what this might be. Looking around, he tried to catch sight of someone else, but all he saw was a brief flash in an otherwise shadowy alleyway and then nothing else. Sweat had formed on his brow, and his body was shaking slightly as his mind reeled with the fact he was forced to be the adult in this situation. He was meant to be mature, to have the answers, but he was coming up short, and this wasn’t something he could perform his way out of. 

The arrow shot by so fast Oz didn’t have time to think. Hands still shaking, he managed to push himself up onto his knees to use his hands to manipulate a ball of fire and send it flying after the arrow. It was too late, the flames trailing meters behind the arrow that invested itself so perfectly into its target. Oz waved his hands and made the flames dissolve, snapping his head to look at the Tanner nearest him to see what his reaction may be. All he really knew about archers was that their quivers rarely held only one arrow, and he wasn’t keen on staying around to figure out how true that may be for whoever shot the dark arrow for whatever reason. He could guess it wasn’t an accident, and that only made his heart beat at a pace so rapid it ignited the fear in him even more.

“We need to go,” Oz stated suddenly, pushing himself up onto his feet quickly. “If whoever shot that doesn’t kill us, the villagers will.”

He didn’t even stop to think that he’d shown his powers in front of this young boy. He didn’t care that he may have jeopardized himself once again in a place where villagers may have been looking nosily out their windows to see what these strangers might do. He’d spent six years in Nottingham, six years in the School and the Coven learning about the importance not of good and bad but the process of life and destruction. Once destruction was done, it could not be undone, but something new could be made of it. But destruction was meant to come to those things that had lived and had a history that made their destruction significant, so what could be the significance of the death of such a young boy? He barely had any life behind him. It was why children got scrapes and teenagers got deeper cuts and adults got broken bones and the elderly died. It was a more even exchange, not something so unbalanced. Then again, where was the balance in two of the same person in one place?

[solely-oz]

[bwboysgallery-deactivated202007]

[tannerabbitt]

Oz / Tanner || Do You Smell Trouble? || SWP

[solely-oz]

tannerabbitt:

“That’s strange,” Tanner shrugged in easy agreement, but noted that it was a little odd to be looking for similar people with similar faces at the same time. Tanner didn’t like to think himself simple and, after being around for over thirty years he managed to realize that anything off in the world was probably the result of something…or someone…playing with things they shouldn’t. And so what if he was the one that fell into that category sometimes. After all, it takes one to know one! Troublemakers never made it out easy. If something was going on in the village then maybe him ad Oz could figure it out together.

“I’m Tanner. I got a last name. It’s Abbitt. Tanner Abbitt,”

Tanner knew the stories of Chile Village quite well. It was good to hear that these rumors and tales were justified. He didn’t know where to go or where to start so he picked a direction and headed that way. The structures and homes were nothing special; maybe they had been put together by mud and dirt or something. Most of the boards were tilted and rotted. He bet that his pack down in Trinity Lakes could give them better wood to build more sturdy architecture. Maybe if they ventured out a little more they’d find some themselves…

Small talk was easy and Tanner could ramble. So he did.

“I ain’t ever been here. Doesn’t seem like there is a lot to do around here anyway. What is the point of going to sleep when the sun goes down? Sometimes the best adventures happen under the stars. I guess if you don’t know anything about the stars and the sky and the constellations and the sun and moons and the planets up there then it doesn’t seem interesting. I know a lot about that stuff. In fact, I bet I know more than you do. I’m sort of an expert…well, okay maybe an expert but I do know a lot of information about things that people only think they know about. I bet this village gets visited by all sorts of spooky things and they don’t even know it. All the cities do. Don’t you know any of those tales? You know, the ones about the changelings and the unicorns or lions as big as a mansion! I bet Chile Village could tell you a story or two. Maybe later we can find a fire to sit around. Do you think they sit around fires here? I guess not…not if they all get put away at night…how boring….”

Skipping over misplaces stones and kicking the ones he could, Tanner chatted and became distracted at small things and found little interest in the walk. People ignored them and kept their heads down, and if others were laughing and carrying on they stopped as soon as they came near.

Ahead, he saw a blacksmiths shop. On a rack hanging outside were several handcrafted arrows, clearly professionally done and that, out of everything, caught his attention the most. “Hey look!” He scurried over and picked one up, testing the weight and dimension of the weapon. “I make these all the time…don’t need a fancy smithing shop to do it, neither!” He snorted.

It was a rare occasion for Oz to manage to keep himself quiet, but he managed to do so as they walked and the boy rambled. It brought a wide amused smile to Oz’s lips, almost able to hear the words coming from his own mouth and in the voice he had in his youth. The stories the boy spoke about were the very tales that made all the people in the village so skittish and superstitious, and for that reason he had been burned by nothing shy of pure ignorance. He liked to think now that he always knew he wouldn’t ever actually die in the typical flames that they sent any other accused witches and supernaturals up in. Whether that was true, even he didn’t know. He doubted he’d ever thought he would be put on the pyre even up until the hour before it happened, when he was covered in his own blood and shackled to someone’s basement wall.

Despite the dark images that surfaced, the smile never faded, and a loud laugh that must have startled anyone nearby suddenly erupted from deep in his chest when the boy mused about fire. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find a fire somewhere,” he agreed, remembering to keep his pace slower than the usual long, rapid strides so he wouldn’t end up yards ahead of the boy. “And it’s very boring around here. They worship the gods of quiet voices and brown clothing.” He chuckled at his own criticism, hardly hushed enough to let it seem as though he cared if any passers-by may here him. With each step he took in his old village, the more empowered and brave he felt about his untouchability within the boundaries of the dismal place.

Just as the boy seemed to take notice of something that actually caught his interest - how difficult it could be to come across something like that in a place like Chile Village - Oz was distracted by someone who passed by. They were hooded, and moving at a rather quick pace, two things that would have set any typical Chile Villagers on high alert. At the very least the hood was made out of the same type of drab cloth that most of the villagers wore, but at this time with the sun starting to set, and not yet any particularly biting weather, it was highly suspect. Oz couldn’t help his own curiosity as he stepped toward the hooded figure, wondering if they might be an odd enough man out in this sea of similarity to be of some aide to the two others. 

No sooner had the dust settled after Oz’s first footfall than the hooded figure seemed to sense that someone was approaching them. The instinctive glance over his shoulder was such an innocent, peaceful gesture, but it might as well have been a spear that went straight through Oz’s chest and left him staring with his jaw dangling at the sight of his own eyes staring back at him. He’d never seen them so clearly as he did then, when they weren’t even his eyes. Despite the shadow of the hood, he could make out every feature, and could only guess that there must be all the same scars and marks on the man that was him but also wasn’t him. Before he could move again, a bright flash suddenly momentarily blinded Oz, as if a bright ray of sun had reflected off of a large metal plate, but neither the sun was that strong nor was there anything metal nearby for it to reflect off of. By the time he’d regained his sight properly, the hooded doppelganger was gone, and he was left speechless as his mind reeled and tried to figure out how to process what he’d just seen.

He’d put it off for later, he decided. He was in his home village, the place where he spent his youth, and what better time to act as if he was in his youth again? As a child he’d always put things off, always just pushed them aside until it was either almost too late to deal with them or they’d completely faded from his memory. Spinning suddenly to face Tanner again, his grin had become less amused and more childish as he walked forward less gracefully than he had for years. He looked more like a child just adjusting to a new pair of shoes that he’d never worn before. “Really?” he inquired, voice an octave higher than it had been moments before. “You should show me one day!” Turning his attention toward the shop, he watched as a boy who looked just like Tanner walked out, and the grin turned almost lop-sided at the sight of him. “He looks like you!” Oz exclaimed, pointing without hesitation toward the other boy. “Looks like he can do it, too! Or maybe he actually has to buy! Do you know him?”

[themadnessofmarco-blog]

Do I Know You? || Oz & Marco

[themadnessofmarco-blog]

Marco slowly relaxed as he realized no one had actually seen him. He was still safely cloaked in the darkness, and if he had any sense at all he would leave right then while the gathering group was distracted. The streets looked familiar, and he was fairly sure he knew exactly where he was. About twenty minutes west and Marco would be able to be reunited with the monsters that called themselves his parents. He was infamous in Nottingham, as evidenced by the crude depictions of his face plastered to the walls. All logic told him to leave. But curiosity got the better of him, and he stayed.

Marco leaned back and scowled at the man spouting blatant lies. Something about him was faintly familiar, that was true, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. They certainly hadn’t been friends. Marco had only had one person in his life he could confidently call his friend. Perhaps this man had been one of his many tormentors in his adolescence. Marco knew he couldn’t put a face to any of the things they did, their petty jibes had been nothing compared to what he had endured in the last decade.

As the man’s performance went on Marco let himself consider the possibility that it wasn’t actually a performance. What if all of what he was saying was entirely true? He spoke with such conviction and emotion, could someone really lie about all of this? And if they could, why the hell would they? Could what this man had been saying actually be true?

“You really are stark, raving mad, aren’t you?”

Marco nearly jumped out of his skin, thinking that someone had noticed him in the shadows. But when he looked to his right it was merely a young girl he faintly remembered seeing lying in a pool of her own blood, a gaping wound in her chest where her heart should have been. In fact, at that very moment the blood was dripping off the hem of her dress and staining the cobblestones below her. 

Marco narrowed his eyes and turned his attention back to the lies the man was spewing to an eager audience. He tried his best to ignore the girl’s following words. At first he felt much guilt for the murder of this poor young child, but the more their apparitions haunted him, the more he started hating his victims as much as he was sure they hated him.

Soon enough the voice faded away and Marco could focus more fully on the man. The scowl never left Marco’s face throughout the entire performance. Marco was starting to get genuinely angry. An audible scoff escaped his lips which garnered a few wary glances at the dark corner he was hiding in. He reached out once again with his magic and pulled the shadows tighter around him, not wanting to get spotted.

[solely-oz]

Oz waited rather impatiently to get some kind of verbal reaction from the audience after his demanding inquiry, but the impatience was never betrayed on his features. Instead it was almost as if his soul had completely torn itself from his physical body and was now standing behind him, arms crossed and foot tapping out a badly timed and relentless tempo. It was only him who could see it in his mind’s eye, unless he’d accidentally stumbled upon some mind readers. Could he even fool them? Not at the moment, no, but he was fairly certain there came a time where he could stump even the mind readers...not that now was the time to think on it, not in front of a crowd where it could cause him to lose his focus. He was fairly certain he never thought these things until he walked into the home of a woman from a long line of mental magic wielders.

Looking out toward the audience again (well, they didn’t know they were an audience, did they?), he was near ready to put on a show of being too overcome with emotion so he could depart and try a different character elsewhere. Apparently his impromptu choice of a prop wasn’t the best decision, as it just left the on-lookers staring at him, not actually trying to engage. He had more people reaching to touch him when he was performing with fire than now when he was despondent and hurt. Perhaps they were all putting on their own shows, too. Would it be such a surprise in Nottingham of all places? 

Before he could consider his exit much longer, he finally caught the sound of something nearby, but it didn’t seem to have slipped through the tightly pressed lips of anyone nearby. Oz’s brows arched curiously, allowing himself to break character now that something even more interesting than an improvised character had caught his attention. This wasn’t something he wanted an audience for... at least not yet, not until he figured out what little rascal or animal might be hiding in the shadows. Looking all around, he spotted a street performer nearby using ribbons as part of some kind of dance that admittedly few of the audience members seemed remotely impressed with. Sighing in a way that was very similar to when a mother found their child with food all over their chin yet again, Oz muttered a favored spell under his breath and watched as the flammable fabric started to come alight in flames from the ends. 

The crowd that had just surrounded him now surged to see the source of shouting commotion, and Oz slipped through them to start toward the darkened area where he’d heard a noise. Wrinkling his nose slightly when he found the spot empty, he couldn’t quite accept that no one had been there. Without much hesitation, he started down the dark alley, wondering where might be a good hiding place that he could search through.

[solely-oz]

Name

Oz Adustio

Age

Twenty-four

Species

Gifted Human (Sun/Light Harnessing | Fire | Mind Influence)

Occupation

Teacher at the Coven of Sol

History

Oz was raised by a couple from Brailston who were both gifted, though neither were one of Oz’s biological parents. Neither possessed the same magical gifts that Oz did, but they were still able to teach him the fundamental basics of control of power and also how to work with a wand, potions, and other well-known and universal aspects of magic. He grew up in a studious home, and thus became a studious warlock, asking to attend lessons at the famed Coven of Sol’s School of Magic in Nottingham when he was only twelve years old. Indulgent only ever when it came to academic pursuits, his adoptive parents and he moved to Nottingham and became deeply involved with the Montgomery’s and the School. Oz attended lessons daily, and often asked those skilled enough to teach for private lessons or aid outside of designated times for classes.

By the time Oz was eighteen, he’d spent more of his time practicing magic than not doing so, and with the help of his parents and mentors from the School, he prepared for his first pilgrimage. Born with sun/light harnessing abilities, he was eager to find out what other abilities he might possess. The trip to the Isles enlightened him in ways he is still unable fully articulate, though he does try his best when consulting with others on his experience. It was on his first pilgrimage that he discovered his gift for fire, and an ambitious second pilgrimage at twenty revealed a gift he never would have guessed he could possess - mind influence.

The outbreak of the war and it’s escalation is something Oz has admittedly wishes he could ignore far easier than he actually can. He has been forced to keep away from the School, at his parents’ request, and feigns a life as a normal human in an attempt to keep himself safe. It was his parents’ idea to move to Chile Village, and all three of them made the voyage together after the agreement that they would cease to use their magical abilities until the air had cleared. None of them have a desire to fight, only to learn in the peaceful confines of their home and expand their magical abilities without causing harm. It is hardly noble, but more selfish than anything, as much as Oz’s wishes it were not so. 

He awoke one day to find the Chile Village he knew was not the Chile Village he was in currently. His parents vanished, and there was no sign or news of any vast war being fought. There are none of his books in the home where he is staying, and no sign that the home even belongs to him, though thankfully no one else has entered to claim it as theirs. Yet. All he wants to do is figure out what has occurred, and he is not even particularly keen on figuring out how to reverse it. Just as long as he knows, he’ll be fine.

Personality

Oz is a fairly reserved person, preferring to stick his nose in a book than in someone else’s business. He’s incredibly knowledgable on all things relating to magic, especially within his own specialities, but remarkably awful at knowing what the local gossip might be. He doesn’t consider himself to have many friends, though he does have a number of peers that he has met at the School that he is rather fond of. It doesn’t bother him much that he has a very small social circle, and he is capable of acting accordingly and politely in various social situations, so long as they do not drag on very long. There is a fire within him where his gift spurs from, but it drives a passion for learning an perfection rather than anything loud and obnoxious and attention-grabbing. 

[solely-oz]

Halloween Asks

Bat: If you could transform into any kind of animal, what animal would you be?

Black Cat: Are you superstitious? If so, what are you superstitious about?

Broomstick: If you could travel anywhere in the world where would it be?

Candy Corn: What food disgusts you the most?

Cauldron: What is your favorite thing to cook?

Cobwebs: One place you would never want to get lost in in the dark?

Coffin: Are you claustrophobic?

Demon: What is your worst flaw?

Eerie: One thing that always creeps you out?

Fright: What is your biggest fear?

Ghost: If you could be reincarnated, would you come back as another human or an animal? If an animal, what kind?

Gravestone: Ideal way you'd like to die?

Haunted House: If you could be roommates with anyone of your choice, who would you pick?

Hocus Pocus: What is the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard?

Howel: Your favorite kind of dog?

Jack-o'-lantern: Do you have any scars? If so, how many?

Monster: What is your favorite scary movie to watch in the dark?

Mummy: Would you rather be buried or cremated when you die?

Potion: What is your favorite thing to drink? Alcoholic and non alcoholic?

Pumpkin: What is your favorite food around the holidays?

Scream: Easiest way to scare you?

Skeleton: Tell me one of your biggest secrets?

Spooky: What was your last nightmare about?

Trick or Treat: Tell me about the greatest prank you've ever pulled?

Vampire: Which one are you? Early bird or night owl?

Witch: If could have the power to cast any kind of spell, what kind of spell would you cast?

Zombie: What is one food you always overeat?

[tannerabbitt]

Oz / Tanner || Do You Smell Trouble? || SWP

[tannerabbitt]

Tanner caught the coins mid air with easy reflexes. “Thanks,” he mumbled with a grin, always excited to get some extra money, even if it was from some strange guy. Tanner wasn’t sure what to expect from being in Chile Village but if he was being offered some money right away then it couldn’t be too bad. 

The wolf took a moment to look around at the passers-by, wondering what they were up to and if any of them had recognized him yet. They walked with their heads down and scurried about is if something were chasing them at the heels. It made him laugh. What was there to be afraid of? Sure, Tanner had heard some stories of monster attacks and a few good burnings…but what city didn’t have that every now and again? If anything, Chile Village was probably more safe than anywhere else in Athoria…it didn’t really seem to make sense to be so afraid all the time. What did they do for fun?

“You live here, Mr? I’m looking for someone…someone that, well, looks just like me!” Tanner flipped the coin in the air and opened his pocket, and it fell perfectly inside. He smirked to himself at the neat little trick. Tanner was almost positive that he could circle the village at least ten times before the sun went down, but it might go faster if he had some guidance. Hopefully these rumors about him were just that, anyway.

[solely-oz]

Oz’s grin only widened when he saw the ease with which the young boy caught the coins, trying to assess if his clothes were a giveaway of whether he was from the village or not. It seemed unlikely he was from out of the village. After all, who came seeking adventure in Chile Village of all places? Even if Oz’s borderline obsessive need to know about why people were claiming to see him around this area could be considered ‘adventurous’ by some, he certainly had a feeling he was the most exciting thing for miles. Then again, perhaps that was all in his own head. Perhaps it all was just in his own head. 

“I used to,” Oz responded, coupling the words with a wistful sigh, as if he actually missed the place that had literally tried to burn him out. The boy was seeking someone who looked just like him. A twin, perhaps? Oh, it was always so fun to put on an act where he got to pretend to play twins who were seeking the other out. The quick costume changes were a drag, but then again, he did always have a bit of magic to aid him with that. “Is it a sibling of yours? I’m sure it shouldn’t be hard to find. Most parents around here like to lock their children away before the sun has fully set, anyway. Apologies if you are from here and your parents are like that, but then again, apologies mostly for the fact you live that way, with as little offense meant as possible. I happen to have a very good set of eyes inside this skull of mine if you need help, but I also will be in need of some help in exchange.”

Oz glanced around, partially to add to the suspense but also partially to make sure no one was looking at him too closely yet. A smile, no doubt, was an unusual sight to see among the Chile Villagers, but his smile had once been so well known it became hated, and even after six years, at least one person was bound to remember it. Satisfied, he crouched down more to Tanner’s eye level and motioned for him to come closer. “Now, before I ask for your help, I should tell you my name is Oz. No last name, just Oz, it makes life far simpler not to worry over such a silly thing as a last name. I’m quite happy I was born without the need for one. Now, there’s been a number of rumors that have reached all the way to England that I’ve been around this village for a fortnight at least...the problem is, young friend, I haven’t. So, I will help you find your second you, if you will help keep yours eyes and ears open for anyone talking of a man named Oz. Call me a sinful man, but I do love to hear the way people talk about me.” He patted Tanner’s shoulder, suddenly getting a bit excited about the prospect of getting to roam around his home village and solving not only his own mystery, but another’s. “And if we’re both successful, I’ll even buy you a pint.”

[solely-oz]

Dear Oz, 

My friend. I have left you. I’m so sorry. I wish I could say this letter holds good news, but if you are reading this I have perished in my attempts to right my families wrongs. I need you to know a few things. That there is no need to avenge me, or use that amazing fire of yours to hunt anyone down. Know that I have made all these choices under my own free will, and of course I am saddened to know you will feel this grief for my loss in your life. 

But I need you to know that I am okay. 

That I didn’t die with regrets. I am happy I did all I could to save someone who meant the world to me. Oz. I can’t explain how amazing it was to first meet you. How much I needed a friend like you after what happened to Marco. You were a rock in my life, and when I was putting on an act you followed suit. Making it all okay– reminding me that it could be okay to not entirely be yourself if that coping meant you made it through another day. 

I could make it through a thousand days by your side. 

I left something for you in a secure bank in Norwich. It’s magical energies wouldn’t have been safe anywhere else. The demon who runs it is tough to deal with, but surprisingly he’s honest when it comes to securing items so long as they are paid. Travel there and seek out a man named Balfour. He will know what you are there for. I hope you find it’s use beneficial. Above all, I hope you won’t forget me. 

Love you my dear friend. As we are taught in school this is but another passing season for me. As I fall into a permanent winter I can only pray to aid in the coming spring for another. Don’t ever let that fire die in you. 

You are so special. Cheers Oz, farewell, 

Ali

[tannerabbitt]

Oz / Tanner || Do You Smell Trouble? || SWP

Double Trouble – SWP Chile Village, Athoria @solely-oz

If it were more than thirty five years ago, Tanner wouldn’t be surprised to hear the confusion about being in two places at once. Back then he had a twin – Tucker – who took the fun out of everything, who his parents favored, who was supposed to be destined for some sort of prosperity and greatness even though their family wasn’t noble or important. Tucker was going to change all of that for them…he was going to start something new for their lineage. Their parents relied on Tucker more than anything in the world. They taught him how to read and write, sent him to the libraries to study and manipulated him to believe that the little Lords of the castle were his best friends. He fought with the squires and sang in the choirs, and aided the priests at the church and did all of those things that would make a country proud at his age

And Tanner did nothing of the sort.

So hearing that he was spotted in Chile Village when that was, in fact, extremely unlikely made the curious wolf eager to head north. Even in human years Tanner had never been to the superstitious village, there wasn’t ever a reason to go. The fun was always in the Hallowed Oak and Monir or Brailston, and as a wolf he cherished the markets in The Ports. Who wanted to go to some boring village that jumped at the smallest sound? Chile sounded stupid. 

The rumors, however, could not be ignored.

In wolf form he ran besides the northern path hidden in the trees until he smelt the humans, knowing he was close. He phased back to his human form and dressed himself from the clothing he had brought with him in a pack. Chile Village was known to be weary of outsiders; lucky for him, Tanner was good at sneaking in anywhere and fitting in just fine.

[solely-oz]

Oz was too self-aware of his own self-absorption and self-interest to ever try to play the part of a modest man when his name was brought up. To hear what others had to say about him - so long as it was good, or at least not bad - always made the corners of his lips rise up in such a genuine way that it sometimes caught him off-guard, and he knew those who knew him were suddenly starting to second guess just how true the other smiles they saw from him were. After a performance, he always loved to saunter into the nearest couple pubs over the course of the night and try to seek out the sound of someone praising him for his show, for the incredible way he manipulated fire almost as if he was magic. When they spoke about his characters, it made his heart skip with joy; when they spoke about his fire, it made his heart burst and he thought his chest might split open to reveal the raging flames within. To revel in the way others reveled in his spectacle could sometimes be the best part of the night, especially on a night when he felt he might have faltered.

To hear what was said about him in the daytime tended to not always be so flattering, or at least not so exciting, but he still couldn’t keep himself from listening. When a messenger arrived with a note from an Athorian friend that was emphasized to be about him, he quickly unraveled the parchment before the young boy’s heels were even out of sight. Rumors? About him? To see the first statement in the message was already drawing out a chuckle, well aware that some of his exploits and comments could lead to people assuming the wrong things, and the easiest way to deal with it was to act unaffected and laugh it off. More often than not, it was easy enough to find amusement in whatever was said about him. Two words in the note, however, were enough to make him go pale as though he’d seen a ghost, and his legs suddenly felt as though they were engulfed in flames. Chile Village.

How had he been spotted in Chile Village? Quietly walking through the streets...when was the last time he ever did anything quietly? Especially when he was in Chile? He used to barrel his way through the alleys and leap out into the fast-moving crowds on their way to church, waving around a broken bit of glass to catch whatever bit of sun there might be to shine lights in people’s eyes and spark flames or create smoke where he could. Had he been complacent when they tied him to the pyre? Had he been quiet when he broke free and left them staring gape-mouthed at the man who survived a burning at the stake? No, not for a second. He ran away screaming at the top of his lungs, but who on earth had dared to say they’d seen him again? 

Or was he a legend by now? That thought alone fed on his ego in ways that couldn’t be explained. A legend of the theater, that was something he always aimed for, but a legend in a village? Not a good legend, of course, but a cursed legend that was probably being used as a scary nighttime story that the Chile Villagers loved to tell their children so much. A warning tale. Oh, the looks on their faces if he actually did show up when they thought he was probably dead by now, that’d be enough to make him return. It was all he could think of as he packed a sack, all he could think of as he made his way to Norwich where Freya had arranged travels with a companion, all he dreamed about the nights on the sea. It was perhaps the first time he’d never been sick while traveling by sea, the unsteady rocking and irritating sound of water sloshing the sides of the boat easily drowned out as he imagined the gasping, screaming reactions to seeing him appear again.

He would need to be discrete though, something that didn’t come very naturally to him. After arriving in Athoria, he took a rather roundabout way of getting to Chile Village, sneaking in and changing into the drably colored clothes that were so common in those parts. Though he did tend to dress in the normal attire of a laborer while off-stage and on his own time, he did like to have at least some color in the fabrics. A hint of red or blue in a tunic, he was certain, would send a superstitious enough resident of the Village straight into their grave. Emerging onto the street, Oz quickly fell in step with a passing group of shoppers who seemed on their way to see a merchant. Their conversation about increase in prices of meat and what church hymns they hoped to hear that day tired him within seconds, and the only bit of excitement he’d had since sneaking into the village came when he spotted a young boy nearby. The children of the Village had always been the people he preferred to interact with as he’d grown older, as they weren’t yet so suspicious of everything around them, and they weren’t afraid to laugh when something creative or imaginative was mentioned. And they’d probably be least likely to recognize him now but most informed about any rumors that may be spreading about a man who’d escaped fire.

Trying to catch the boy’s eye, Oz shuffled slightly around the group of villagers and used a bit of magic to help him extract a few coins, barely enough to buy a small bag of apples, from their pockets and coin purses. Switching his direction after the coins were in his possession, he started toward the boy and tossed the coins toward him. “Don’t buy from Brawley if he’s still around with his stall, he slobbers like a dog all over his goods,” Oz warned, broad smile on his face. “Randall is who you want to visit if you want any fruit that’s remotely good.”