@willowxwispxrp
August had found humans strange for as long as he’d known that he wasn’t one of them. It had all added up when he’d learned the truth; witch wasn’t such a scary thing. It was only the mundane that seemed capable of torturing him. He had paid little mind to the differences that separated them prior to his arrival to Ashborne, however, it was when he’d come to town that he had almost pitied them. He’d assumed the lives they lead would be fragile, frightful, and wrought with even more perils than he himself would need to contend with.
Then he’d met Willow, someone who through persistence became an unexpected ally - and maybe even a friend. Whatever she was, she was suffering now because her brother was missing in the Forest of Eyes. Which, as far as most people were concerned, basically meant that her brother wasn’t ever going to be seen again. When he’d come to Ashbourne he thought his life had ended, that this was some hell where he’d have to serve penance, but meeting a human with the misfortune of being born here was a cross he couldn’t imagine baring.
He’d gathered a few materials for an invocation and had hoped that she’d join him, he didn’t need the help, but August suspected that she could use the pick-me-up. Sat in the foyer of the funeral home, August was grinding down shards of a broken vase he’d collected from the graveyard. At one time the vase had contained flowers addressed to a loved one, and, through some intervention of spirit, that vessel had been destroyed. While the vase could not be repaired, the shards were now a powerful totem to those who knew how to work with such things.
“In here,” August called out when he heard the front door open, “hey, I was hoping you’d come by.” He offered the human woman a smile as he set the mortal and pestle down, the ground class within reflecting with a fine, porcelain shimmer. A variety of materials sat on the table in front of him, the least of which was his grimoire.
