OC #2 Drossel the elf

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OC #2 Drossel the elf
Basement Laboratories
Herbs filled the room as the brunette woman reached up to the shelves of one particular work table in the basement of the home she shared with Johannes. While she did keep an immaculate clean home, one would question the cleanliness compared to the basement where sensitive work happened. It was down below that he kept his more sensitive research, where Maeve dried out herbs and plants to be processed down by her own hand for tinctures, potions, and warding materials. Those wards- they were the very support system that kept their home and lives safe. Perhaps more so than the starved pixies who guarded the doors and kept unwanteds at bay. Funny how she offered to help them find their way through the veil, but they found too much joy in the mischief, and satiated their pallet with the visitor who didn’t want to say “Fine, I’ll just go home.” No, Maeve had learned that’s one of the fae she can’t just convince to join their kind away from the Mortal realm. She had been safe from the pair as Fae recognized other Fae once their known name was given. Her true name would never be available to them. Not even Johannes had it. But by the very Goddess who ruled her court did not love that man beyond all definitions of the word. Enough that she would relent to trying to convince those pixies to cause Chaos in a world better suited for them. No, the “Beware of criminally insane garden fairies with a taste for human blood. “ would have to do. It was a fair warning and Maeve even with all of her gentile nature and education over the years, was still a logical woman. If someone ignores a clear warning then clearly Sir. Charles Darwin had the right of it. Her attention soon returned to the task at hand. One by one, she plucked glass bottles from the shelves. Then, confirming to ensure that nothing was missed by way of her grimoire (number 82 in this case), she set to work. Fresh water from the night of the last new moon, paired with the melatonin and magnesium. Then, she took it a step further by adding something her dear little friend would never expect; a lock of Grace Moore’s hair. Sure, the woman had been passed on for several years now, but it would give her some comfort. Finally, came the clump of a dreamweaver spider’s web .So lost was she in her work that she wouldn’t even hear the door upstairs open. Of course that was all thanks to the ravenous fairies who occupied the garden. Finally, all of the reagents were added to a mortar so that she could grind them together with the pedestal while words from an old language carried from her lips. Oh how her arm ached from grinding the materials together. *The finer the better* she could hear her mentor calling out to her. As the spell laced song came to a close from her native land of Ireland, Maeve sprinkled one last ingredient into the mixture; she made a point to take red brick shavings from the building of her dear little friend- one more tool to keep the girl at peace and maybe find sleep again. @mortesadversarius
Quiet Contemplation
He sat in the dim lit room as the fire flickered back and forth over and over again- dancing with the wick to which it devoured while the shadows cast a scenery against the wall. As he sat there, a glass of whisky in his hand, Killian contemplated those life long friends of his. They aided him, soothed him, keep him company on the long quiet nights. The shadows need no speak to him and he need not speak to them. Leaning his head back against the chair to which he sat in, he closed his eyes. It had been such a long day and thus he’d been in that room to enjoy a moment’s peace- dressed down from the full suit he’d worn that day in exchange for his shirt to be untucked, his tie discarded and even his shoes kicked off. Hunting- he could get behind that. Serving in his father’s court where suits were expected? Perhaps his father should have had another child for such a thing. He signed quietly and took in another sip of the amber fire that would soon rest on his tongue for a moment. He held that glass up still, resting it there idly as he smile. The burn- he enjoyed that burn as the shadows moved from the wall, against the chair and soon, brushing against his skin. It was not like the touch of his sweet Sionnach, but rather the touch of a loved one; a sibling long beyond the need for words. Just their presence was a joy to the man. A smile was soon to be tugging on his lips. “You dinnae give up, do ya?” He asked of them with that lilt rolling the words off of his tongue. Again, no words, but he could feel them. He could feel the answer they gave him. Never in their long years of his life did they turn their back to him. If anything they were glad he was sharing his life again. Sharing it with his sweetest love. Suddenly, she filled his thoughts. Shifting slightly in his seat, he fished out his phone. Soon, Killian was taking a photo of the drink in his hand and then he opened his text chain with his wife. “Not the best thing my tongue has tasted, but since you’re not here it’s a close second.. I miss you.” Then, he hit send. Given the glow of the room, and then the area rug of his sitting room it would be easy for her to find him if she so much as chose to. Old was Killian, but damn if she didn’t make him feel young and foolish again. If she didn’t pull the chaos from his body only to dance a sensual tango with it- a dance filled with fire, passion, and desire. That old man did place his phone down face first on the arm of the chair. With the idea of just how she’d perceive that text, he grinned and returned to enjoying the quiet. @velvetnviolentviolets
sᴇᴀɴ sᴇᴛʜ ᴄᴀʟʟᴀʜᴀɴ ɢᴇᴄᴋᴏ.
» Nombre y apellidos. «
Sean Seth Callahan Gecko.