Snow fell in a rampant flurry. The snowflakes clung to one another in chains and merry circles, moving in tandem to shroud the figure moving slowly through the storm. The figure was tall, bundled in fabrics against the harsh elements. The figure was Shuhei Kumagai.
Still to this day, the thoughts cross my mind. They come and go like koi fish in a pond, ever circling within the confines of a place they'll live and die in. Between the decisive steps of my familiar path home, my mind wandered aimlessly. The thoughts would not be banished.
How old was I now? I didn't take note of that sort of thing. I did when I was younger when years, numbers, and time all mattered. I cared about the number of candles on my birthday cake, figuratively of course. I preferred a bag of candy to a cake.
The years mattered then because I was growing out of something. I was waiting for the clock to release me; I was waiting for it to permit me to break free of my circumstances. When I did, then the years didn't matter so much. Especially during my travels, my birthday was more of an afterthought. The sun would be high in the sky and the marsh water high on my legs as I crossed a moor. My toes would sink down into the mud and I would remember suddenly that it was my birthday. Then the simple thought would linger faintly against the chaos it brought forward from my past.
And today, right now, as I walk through this storm I recall one of those years I spent finding what I thought was my purpose. The sun was now the moon, the mud was now snow and I am reminded it is once again my birthday. Years ago, I felt indifferent toward this day. My indifference bothered me. Now that I have grown a great deal and am a different version of myself, I am still indifferent. At least now I am not bothered by such indifference.
I look down at my gloved hands. Between my joint ailment, my profession, and the frigid temperatures, they ached. What a privilege it was to feel. To feel cold, to feel wet, to feel the yearning for warmth. To feel the security and certainty that warmth awaited me at home. What a privilege it is to feel indifferent about my own birthday.
The dead are restrained from such feelings.
I was not one of them yet, but I know many of the dead. I ushered them from this life to the next and there isn't a day that thought doesn't find me. It is especially poignant on my birthday. A celebration of my life.
The faint glow of a lantern in the distance called me out of my thoughts, and back into the storm. My home was not far. My wife lights the lantern in the evenings this time of year since our home in the woods is well-secluded. I have always found my way and the lantern I need not, but she lights it anyway. The gesture reminds me that she is home waiting. My wife, like the lantern, is the beacon I return to.
The paces remaining seemed swift, and I was to the front steps of our home before I found myself traversing back to the darkness of my mind. I found the door to be unlocked—a relief. My hands protested every small movement today, a reminder that many birthdays have passed, whether I joyfully acknowledged them or not.
"Welcome home, darling!"
My wife's light voice was carried on the wafting smell of her cooking. I hung my outer clothes on the coat rack. I watched the snow fall from them. I watched the crystals grow old and die; their graves were only small droplets on the wood floor. None of them had headstones.
I removed my shoes and one step after the other, I was being pulled toward the warmth. Toward the light. I found her standing at the stove, wearing pink slippers and a nightgown that's gradually grown in length since we've been married. By now, it hangs around her calves. I noticed the rip in the hem where our cat likes to play.
She didn't hear me approach, nor did I wait for her to hear. I simply wrapped my arms around her where I could, resting my chin atop her head. Her hair was wet. The sensation was adverse to my flesh, but comforting to my heart. The cold, wet of her hair was so insignificant when held to the warmth that this woman created within me.
"Shu, how was your day?"
She asked me this, turning down the fire. The pan she held was soon placed back onto the stovetop and both of her hands found mine in a tangle on her stomach. I remember a time when her stomach was full, a time when she was hard at work growing our family. I would lift her stomach to bear some of the weight. There wasn't anything to lift now, as that was long ago and our children were now grown.
Sleeping in their own beds, thinking with their own heads.
"It went well. Very busy. I wish I was home."
Her familiar laugh, mischievous and mirthful, stirred within me so much emotion. Often, little gestures such as these called me to willfully forget things that troubled me.
"Well, you are home. Aren't you?"
I smiled for the first time since beginning my journey home. I realized my thoughts had been dreary, as they tended to be on such days like today.
"I am," I answered her, crouching further to rest my face in the nook of her shoulder and neck. I never minded folding myself down to be closer to the woman I loved.
"Well... now that you're home we can have dinner together."
She must have known that was all I wanted. To fill my belly with the craft of her hands and the laughter that she spurred. I gave a pleased nod and took to the cabinets to gather dishes to set the table.
We talked small, about all things. About her things. About my things. About when our children would arrive home from their different places and we would all be together here. As indifferent I was about my own birthday, I always looked forward to the times our family would be in one place. My birthday, coincidentally was one of them.
As I set our places, out of the corner of my eye did I see a paper bag on the counter.
I smiled. I could feel the deep lines in my face crease like well-worn leather. How could I be surprised? Maybe not surprised, just pleased. My wife knew everything about me. I had no doubts she knew the thoughts in my head today. And her remedy was her company and her thoughtful gestures. She knew this would fill me with the contentedness she sought for me. She knew all it took was her love.
And she knew I preferred a bag of candy to a cake.
There will always be a light to guide you home and a bag of candy to enjoy together for the rest of our days while basking in the warmth of our home. Growing up and growing old with you has been the greatest adventure I've experienced.
Snow fell in a rampant flurry. The snowflakes clung to one another in chains and merry circles, moving in tandem to shroud the finger moving slowly through the storm. The figure was tall, bundled in fabrics against the harsh elements. The figure was Shuhei Kumagai.
Still to this day, the thoughts cross my mind. They come and go like koi fish in a pond, ever circling within the confines of a place they'll live and die in. Between the decisive steps of my familiar path home, my mind wandered aimlessly. The thoughts would not be banished.
How old was I now? I didn't take note of that sort of thing. I did when I was younger when years, numbers, and time all mattered. I cared about the number of candles on my birthday cake, figuratively of course. I preferred a bag of candy to a cake.
The years mattered then because I was growing out of something. I was waiting for the clock to release me; I was waiting for it to permit me to break free of my circumstances. When I did, then the years didn't matter so much. Especially during my travels, my birthday was more of an afterthought. The sun would be high in the sky and the marsh water high on my legs as I crossed a moor. My toes would sink down into the mud and I would remember suddenly that it was my birthday. Then the simple thought would linger faintly against the chaos it brought forward from my past.
And today, right now, as I walk through this storm I recall one of those years I spent finding what I thought was my purpose. The sun was now the moon, the mud was now snow and I am reminded it is once again my birthday. Years ago, I felt indifferent toward this day. My indifference bothered me. Now that I have grown a great deal and am a different version of myself, I am still indifferent. At least now I am not bothered by such indifference.
I look down at my gloved hands. Between my joint ailment, my profession, and the frigid temperatures, they ached. What a privilege it was to feel. To feel cold, to feel wet, to feel the yearning for warmth. To feel the security and certainty that warmth awaited me at home. What a privilege it is to feel indifferent about my own birthday.
The dead are restrained from such feelings.
I was not one of them yet, but I know many of the dead. I ushered them from this life to the next and there isn't a day that thought doesn't find me. It is especially poignant on my birthday. A celebration of my life.
The faint glow of a lantern in the distance called me out of my thoughts, and back into the storm. My home was not far. My wife lights the lantern in the evenings this time of year since our home in the woods is well-secluded. I have always found my way and the lantern I need not, but she lights it anyway. The gesture reminds me that she is home waiting. My wife, like the lantern, is the beacon I return to.
The paces remaining seemed swift, and I was to the front steps of our home before I found myself traversing back to the darkness of my mind. I found the door to be unlocked—a relief. My hands protested every small movement today, a reminder that many birthdays have passed, whether I joyfully acknowledged them or not.
"Welcome home, darling!"
My wife's light voice was carried on the wafting smell of her cooking. I hung my outer clothes on the coat rack. I watched the snow fall from them. I watched the crystals grow old and die; their graves were only small droplets on the wood floor. None of them had headstones.
I removed my shoes and one step after the other, I was being pulled toward the warmth. Toward the light. I found her standing at the stove, wearing pink slippers and a nightgown that's gradually grown in length since we've been married. By now, it hangs around her calves. I noticed the rip in the hem where our cat likes to play.
She didn't hear me approach, nor did I wait for her to hear. I simply wrapped my arms around her where I could, resting my chin atop her head. Her hair was wet. The sensation was adverse to my flesh, but comforting to my heart. The cold, wet of her hair was so insignificant when held to the warmth that this woman created within me.
"Shu, how was your day?"
She asked me this, turning down the fire. The pan she held was soon placed back onto the stovetop and both of her hands found mine in a tangle on her stomach. I remember a time when her stomach was full, a time when she was hard at work growing our family. I would lift her stomach to bear some of the weight. There wasn't anything to lift now, as that was long ago and our children were now grown.
Sleeping in their own beds, thinking with their own heads.
"It went well. Very busy. I wish I was home."
Her familiar laugh, mischievous and mirthful, stirred within me so much emotion. Often, little gestures such as these called me to willfully forget things that troubled me.
"Well, you are home. Aren't you?"
I smiled for the first time since beginning my journey home. I realized my thoughts had been dreary, as they tended to be on such days like today.
"I am," I answered her, crouching further to rest my face in the nook of her shoulder and neck. I never minded folding myself down to be closer to the woman I loved.
"Well... now that you're home we can have dinner together."
She must have known that was all I wanted. To fill my belly with the craft of her hands and the laughter that she spurred. I gave a pleased nod and took to the cabinets to gather dishes to set the table.
We talked small, about all things. About her things. About my things. About when our children would arrive home from their different places and we would all be together here. As indifferent I was about my own birthday, I always looked forward to the times our family would be in one place. My birthday, coincidentally was one of them.
As I set our places, out of the corner of my eye did I see a paper bag on the counter.
I smiled. I could feel the deep lines in my face crease like well-worn leather. How could I be surprised? Maybe not surprised, just pleased. My wife knew everything about me. I had no doubts she knew the thoughts in my head today. And her remedy was her company and her thoughtful gestures. She knew this would fill me with the contentedness she sought for me. She knew all it took was her love.
And she knew I preferred a bag of candy to a cake.
There will always be a light to guide you home and a bag of candy to enjoy together for the rest of our days while basking in the warmth of our home. Growing up and growing old with you has been the greatest adventure I've experienced.
Salice smiled in earnest, reaching slowly for Thomas's wringing hands. She was met with a slight resistance, like a thin film before she broke through the tension of his translucent skin and phased right through him. She tried again, this time moving slowly. She felt more. She felt him for longer. For a moment, he didn't seem so thin.
"We might just need to slow down, is all. Besides, there's more to do than just touching."
That was true. But what was also true: they longed to touch each other. Thomas couldn't help but make eyes at Salice's skin.
Itching to abide by it, be beside it, to be inside it.
Kissing every inch of the surface, sliding his hands along its bareness, seeing her without her clothes. Every action that he'd exacted upon her in his mind had an opposite, more devastating reaction to his own translucent body. Thomas wanted her so badly, it drove him to madness.
There were always two questions driving him to his second demise: Why would he be sent such a gorgeous angel if he could not touch her?
And.
How many desperate attempts and plotted schemes would it take for him to be able to?
Sometimes, he came around to philosophizing that the true eternal punishment was his ghostliness withholding from him, the woman of his dreams... not even the ghostly ghosthood itself.
The way she'd walk, her thighs well acquainted with one another, friction created between them, the fabric of her clothing tinder to the heat of her... Thomas never wished so much to be between something. Two somethings. That or his face between her two careful hands when she kissed his forehead with those pretty lips. Sometimes, when the moons were full and his body was as close to flesh as it would ever be, Thomas could feel her fangs scrape against his skin in the fainted whisper. He wished the moon to never shrink, for he longed for enough time to find those fangs elsewhere.
Sometimes, most times, Thomas would find himself pressed up against her soft, warm body. It would feel so much warmer to someone alive, but nevertheless, the action brought him comfort. Salice was like an anchor, and he was like a raft of driftwood: flimsy and weak and frail. Her radiance was disorienting. Thomas wanted to bask in her all day, all night, for the rest of his life. That skin of hers is so rich, so smooth, so deep. He coveted it. He wanted it for himself. And by that, he wanted to indulge in it. In her. To take a bite of her and lick the wound clean. That's what he wanted. The sensation of Salice's skin.
Part of that that was envy, itching for his own skin to feel things with. He could admit that. He could also admit the only thing he'd ever want to feel was her. And proudly so. However, Tom gave up that hope a long time ago. He knew he'd never have that again. His own body? His own skin? Laughable. So laughable, they put his picture on a joke book. But sharing her skin? Those are the attainable goals Thomas was in the habit of making.
What ghost needs their own body, Thomas thought. Not him.
He had hers.
"Of course there is, Salice. I didn't mean-"
Salice had seen his face fall when she mentioned the inability of the tactile nature. And even more so when he thought he was coming across as if that were all he wanted from her. She hated this worry. They had not a single one otherwise. They two seemed to be the perfect match... save for their circumstantial predicament. The lack of touching, it disappointed her too. Believe it, she was just as eager to partake in the more carnal of desires as he was... every sentiment shared. And she became equally frustrated and sad when things didn't go like they wanted, but she didn't want that to show. She wanted to focus on the positive things. There weren't many to share between a devil and a ghost. Their relationship was the one they often settled on.
"I always know exactly what you mean. There's no need to apologize. We've plenty of time to figure this out. Don't we?"
As in plenty of time, she meant forever. If forever is what she wanted, Thomas would give her one day more.
Reversed: Ignored trauma, going back to one’s old ways, difficult emotions.
Minor Arcana: Eight of Cups.
Upright: Departure, change, and emotional intelligence.
Reversed: Being abandoned, errors of judgement, clinging to the past.
Likes: Art nouveau architecture, vitraux, tiny jars for herbs and spices, having a specific order and place for things, white mushrooms growing from in between cobblestones all over Maeth, the way her curls look when she just wakes up, cutting her own hair, soft breeze in the summer, crunchy autumn leaves at her door, that magical shimmer water reflects due to the sun being right above it midday, sweet treats, dim lighting, walnut oak furniture, being a big sister, when Tack rests on her shoulders like a scarf, folk music at the tavern, cherry blush all over her cheeks, when Soleil asked for bedtime stories, doing laundry and sunday deep cleaning, cooking and storing food for the rest of the week, the way Esbat Capital lights up at night, surprising chemical reactions, riding the train, reading romance books.
Dislikes: Brushing her hair because it destroys her curls, rude costumers that doubt her knowledge and expertise, loud people, when the herbs she ordered are delayed so now she has to rush to make the new batches of oil and ointments, long trips on boats, losing her bookmarks, falling asleep on her couch and not her bed, when the shower water runs cold, not being able to find Tack easily.
Abilities: She’s not great at maths but she really does like the accounting aspect of the shop she runs so she’s great at it. Minerva learned how to play the guitar early on in her life so now she’s a decent player. She’s quick to remember recipes for both food and medicine. Can ride a bike without holding the handlebars and that’s her prefered way of moving around the big city, divination.
Favourite food: Cinnamon rolls.
Favourite drink: A latte, please. Or two. Or three… And it’s only 2 PM.
Favourite flower: Ghost flowers.
Magic: She wasn’t born into a family of witches, so she doesn’t have any nature’s element weilding powers but she is interested in witchcraft, so she studies in her free time about it. So far, the only thing she’s confident in is divination with tarot cards and participates in the pagan festivities but nothing else.
Appearance.
Height: 5’4 or 165 cm.
Weight: 119 lbs or 54 kg.
Hair: She’s got this chocolate brown, curly hair which ends go barely past covering her breasts and she can’t tame it most of the time, partially due to the fact that she washes it and goes to sleep without letting it dry properly first. Not that she cares, she likes the messy look her curls and frizz offer so she just lets it be. Though, you might run into her at Açu’s for some deep conditioner every month trying to force those curls to stay in place.
Eyes: Her eyes are brown, simple as that. It’s a deep, sparkly dark brown. Down turned almond shape that look so sleepy most of the time, you’d think she’s bored talking to you and she might be, but it’s not her intention to let you know that. Long lashes adoring her nostalgic stare only enhanced by a eyelash curler in the morning and not much else. Maybe some sparkly eyeshadow in the corner of her eyes if she’s feeling it.
General description: Overall, Minerva is not someone who stands out a lot. Even so, her beauty is something that might caught the eyes of one or two people while walking to work in the mornings. She’s not someone who wears a lot of jewelry but since her eyesight isn’t the best, she’s always wearing contacts or glasses and that’s something she really likes to play with, so you might see her with peculiar frames at the shop. She’s got veiny hands and most of the time you’ll see her wearing some kind of shimmery nail polish that chips way too easily. Minerva has a few beauty marks all over her body, she likes the one she’s got on her neck near her left ear a lot. Also, yes, that overwhelming scent you’re catching is her walking by. Her perfumes are very intense and sweet.
Fashion sense: She’s not the most confident person on the planet and tries to hide her figure a lot behind oversized shirts, sweaters and cardigans, though she’s trying to be more versatile. Trousers and comfortable shoes are her best friends but since she’s okay with her lower part, she’s not opposed to skirts (long or short). She likes clean lines, basic pieces that she can mix and match. Also, boots are her soft spot.
A brief look into her life.
Occupation: Minerva is an apothecary, just like her grandma used to be. When her and Soleil moved in with their father to Maeth from Embry, he decided to move in to his old home with his mother that passed away a few months before. This place is like a small building where the first floor is a shop, the apothecary shop where Minerva works and then, the second and third floor is where Soleil and their father live. Two years ago, Minerva moved just two blocks away from them to a small apartment with a gorgeous view, so she’s with her family most of the time.
Family and friends:
Federico Bianchi; step-father.
Reneé Berest; mother.
Simón Magloire; father.
Soleil Beallin Magloire; sister.
Natsu Dunaidh, best friend.
Benicio Melo Teixeira, best friend.
Amaru Ch’aska Noguera, friend and colleague.
Miscellaneous facts:
The love she has for the aphotecary profession comes from her grandma and all the books she left behind that she wrote about making remedies, herbology and holistic medicine.
She’s also incredibly interested in alchemy and psychology but had to study to be a pharmacist in university so she could continue with the aphotecary business and not have anyone doubting her medicine knowledge and recommend another options.
Even though you’ll mostly see her dressed with autumn colors, she’s also a sucker for cerulean, midnight blue, navy and cobalt. No, it’s not just blue.
Hums and talks to herself while working most of the time, since she’s the only one at the shop most of the time. Except for the times Soleil decides to keep her company for a while.
Loves conspiracy theories and is cryptic enthusiast.
Moths are fascinating to her.
Has a soft, breathy voice when she sings while playing the guitar.
Esbat Capital is Maeth’s big, cosmopolitan capital city. Its center is the Cortez Circle, lined with stately Curdic-style buildings and commemorative statues including the Vivarium Fountain of Fallen Soldiers and the VIT, the Vivarium Institute of Technology (third photo) as well as an elegant shopping area. Other major attractions include Sabbat Slendid (second photo), a grand opera house with nearly 2,500 seats, and the modern SAMA museum, displaying maethisse, saudade and atawallpan art.
The National Library of Maeth (first photo) is another focal point, where people from all around the world can get their affiliation card to the library and are welcomed seven days a week from 8 A.M to 8 P.M.
As for the rest of the capital city of Maeth, El Paseo de los Artesanos near the port is a exquisite attraction worth visiting at any time of the day for a magical experience given that it’s also one of the biggest outdoor shopping places as a proper feria consciente and almacenes during the week days.
The Puerto Iluminada amusement park is just next to it, where kids and adults alike can ride on the Fortune Wheel and lots of other wonderful games, enjoying the view at the ocean by being really close to the Prime Grand Port.
"The Esbat Capitol is one of the most elegant places I've ever seen. It still amazes me, even after all these years. I can recall when I first arrived in Maeth; Ella had shown me the Vivarium Fountain of Fallen Soldiers. What a beautiful and meaningful monument to greet and welcome me into this fairytale city. I still feel how vividly the magic courses through you when you near it. The feeling has never faded."
"Living here is a dream come true. I can't thank enough my sister who has shared her life with me and allowed me to create my own. This place is always a reminder."
"Maeth was meant to be your home someday, I'm so glad you decided to stay with me here, so glad we're now a big happy family. Hey Sisi, should we go on a talk tomorrow? We could go to our favorite cafeteríaaa."
Esbat Capital is Maeth’s big, cosmopolitan capital city. Its center is the Cortez Circle, lined with stately Curdic-style buildings and commemorative statues including the Vivarium Fountain of Fallen Soldiers and the VIT, the Vivarium Institute of Technology (third photo) as well as an elegant shopping area. Other major attractions include Sabbat Slendid (second photo), a grand opera house with nearly 2,500 seats, and the modern SAMA museum, displaying maethisse, saudade and atawallpan art.
The National Library of Maeth (first photo) is another focal point, where people from all around the world can get their affiliation card to the library and are welcomed seven days a week from 8 A.M to 8 P.M.
As for the rest of the capital city of Maeth, El Paseo de los Artesanos near the port is a exquisite attraction worth visiting at any time of the day for a magical experience given that it’s also one of the biggest outdoor shopping places as a proper feria consciente and almacenes during the week days.
The Puerto Iluminado amusement park is just next to it, where kids and adults alike can ride on the Fortune Wheel and lots of other wonderful games, enjoying the view at the ocean by being really close to the Prime Grand Port.
Likes: Sewing, reading romantic novels, playing her instruments, the smell of vanilla, colourful paintings, soft fabrics, embellished daggers, astrology and astronomy, herbology, having time for herself, pigments for her face, curling her hair, belly and hand kisses, getting her hands all muddy when she’s working in her garden, petting every single animal she encounters, absent-mindedly singing and dancing around the place while she’s occupied doing something else, camping so she can sleep under the stars, people who respond to her harmless sarcasm with the same level of wittiness, feeling how her eyes go from brown to bright pink when she sees someone she loves, walking through the forest to town and then come back, when her husband calls her butterfly.
Dislikes: Cutting her hair, waking up before 9 am, people who try to explain things to her that she already knows, when someone points out her back scar with disgust, dishonesty, being told what to do in a rude way, people who take things from nature without asking for permission first, humid weather because it makes her scoliosis’ surgery feel awkward and hurt a bit, people staring for a moment too long at her loves (oh no, she’s jealous!), being told to stop acting weird in public because it’s embarrassing, when someone underestimates magic, people who judge someone else’s appearence.
Abilities: Her love for music is reflected in how passionate she is when she's playing the harp, strings instruments are her thing so she can play the lute too. She's fairly good herbalist, a skilled seamstress and costume design, an astronomy and astrology enthusiast that really wants to learn, even if it gets difficult at times. She speaks two languages fluently (maethel and embrish) but she’s interested in learning other languages too like kyoh, orasan and girovrés.
Favourite food: Smoked salmon.
Favourite drink: Pineapple juice.
Favourite flower: Syringa Vulgaris, also known as Lilac and baby’s breath.
Magic: Her magic is guided and heavily influenced by four of the five elements: Earth, Fire, Air and Water. She can master them equally except for her lack of control over the Spirit element’s disciplines.
Appearance.
Height: 5'3 or 163 cm.
Weight: 132 lbs or 60 kgs.
Hair: Long, and I mean long, brown hair that falls straight down her back only to end in soft curls that tickle her waist. She started to grow it when Frederick, her father, stopped being in the family picture; he used to make her cut it shoulder length. By the time she was seventeen, her hair was reaching below her hips but she decided to keep it to her waist. Isabella is very fond of putting dried flowers in her hair as well as flower crows in celebrations like Ostara or Beltane.
Eyes: Her eyes are just a little lighter than the rest of her family, making them look like pools of brown sugar that mix really well with the pink of her eyes that only appears when she’s looking at the one person she loves the most. This phenomenon only occurs when she’s looking at a romantic partner, she believes this is a gift that she received from nature because she was born on a special date because it helps them to understand her feelings when she can’t express them properly given that the shade of pink changes according to her mood. Also, the look on those eyes reflect mischief at all times.
General description: She always had a slender figure and she stills does, except for the upper part of her legs; her thighs and hips really widened when she turned sixteen, meaning that she has stretch marks all over that specific place. Her fingers, which she adorns with multiple rings, are long as well as her neck. Her favourite body part on herself are her lips, very plump and pink-ish, except from when they’ve been kissed for a long time, which makes them turn a subtle shade of red.
Fashion sense: If you open up her (very stocked) wardrobe you would find an infinity of different fabrics, textures and deep colours. She likes to think that she’s got a very ethereal vibe going on so she dresses accordingly, that’s why she would describe her fashion sense as “whimsigothic”. Multiple accessories are a must and she’s a very big fan of scarfs and bandanas on her hair. She hates tight trousers and bras are against the Isabella Law but its not like she needs them anyways.
A brief look into her life.
Occupation: Once she returns to Maeth to be where her heart and magic belongs, she starts working in the same boutique where she was taught how to design, sketch and sew garments. She works alongside her mentor: Mrs. Peghleri for quite some time but once she decides to retire, Isabella is the one who inherits the place, rapidly making her way into the maethisse theatre scene becoming the costume designer for Maeth’s Royal Opera and working for a variety of theatres around the world. She turns down the offer of becoming the new High Priestess of her coven but still attends to their meetings and is an active member.
Love Interest.
Kumagai Shuhei. 💘
Family and friends.
Atlas Zieragh, sibling.
Thomas Zieragh, brother.
Galiere Zieragh, mother.
Anelisse Zieragh, aunt.
Federico Bianchi, father.
Fawn Dubhach, ex-girlfriend.
Draigh Tolmach, close friend.
Salice Gianna Halloway, sister-in-law and best friend.
Emilio Taylor, close childhood friend.
Anshelinah Circe, best friend.
Nazir Circe, childhood crush.
Miscellaneous facts.
She's always looking for something exciting, something that makes her happy and content.
Social battery runs out way too fast and need her own time and space to come back to society calm and collected.
Uses her love and connection to her hobbies as a way of coping with what’s stressing her at the moment. She will lock herself in the room dedicated to her craft and spend a few long hours there until she feels more relaxed.
It would be a lie to say that she knows how to manage her anger so don’t try to calm her down by touching her because it’ll get her even more mad, she needs some time to calm down. Luckily, she’s not prideful and will apologize once she understands her reaction to the situation wasn’t ideal.
Values bravery, honesty and staying true to yourself above all other traits.
Loves to be included in other people’s interest so she can learn more about them and bond in a more intimate way.
Her love languages are Physical Touch, Words of Affirmation and Quality Time.
She likes to sing and has a pretty decent voice, nothing too special but she’s okay.
The crickets sing along to the the low hum that come from that candle lit kitchen at 11:43 p.m while she busies herself with sweet preparations. The oven, turned off but still warm enough from being used exactly twenty-seven minutes ago, fights off the cold winter night and makes her wipe the windows with her way-too-big sweater sleeves so the fog wouldn’t hide the magical view she has through it while she decorates the small cake with his favourite cake toppings.
It has to be perfect, it needs to taste amazing, at least that what she first thought when she slipped out of his arms in the middle of their sleep and closed the bedroom door as quietly as humanly possible.
She tried the mix a couple of times, adding sugar and vanilla extract when she deemed necessary but nothing seemed quite right, after all, her baking skills aren’t the greatest. Isabella came to the conclusion that the cake tastes decent and rolled with it to not lose any more time.
Three blue candles sit on top of the wooden counter waiting to be placed on the spongy surface. “Three candles for three wishes”, or at least is what her mom always told her and her siblings on every birthday, a nice tradition to bring luck and happiness to your loved ones. And him… Well, he’s who she loves the most.
By the time she’s done with the decorations the clock marks 11:57 p.m. A sweet message in white cream and sloppy lettering adorns the birthday cake: Happy Birthday Shuhei. His full name, of course, she wanted to draw a heart over the I and she did.
Trembling hands grab the small plate and two spoons, one for each. She would’ve grabbed matches but she doesn’t have anything to hide, not anymore, not to him. He knows her, her abilities, her weaknesses, and he’s always been accepting of them.
Her hips push the bedroom door open slightly and her careful steps make their way to his side of the bed to kneel by his side on the floor, presenting the humble gift she made. Her voice interrupts the quiet of the night for the first time since they decided it was time to go to bed.
“Shu, Shu… Baby.” Not quite a whisper, not quite her normal talking voice, but enough to make him stir and shift under the sheets and covers. Still not a single light, except from the moon shining down on them from their bedroom window. Turning to where her voice was calling for him and rubbing his eyes to see better in the dark, that’s when she gently blows on the three candles and they light up in front of his eyes.
“Isa, wh-what happen- Oh…” A pleasant tone in his sleepy voice once he realises what is happening.
“お誕生日おめでとう, amor mío.” Her pronunciation is definitely a little off but it makes him smile so big. She spend the whole night rehearsing this exact same moment, mouthing the words in Kyoh language to herself while whipping and mixing. She knows saying happy birthday in one’s native language is always heart-warming, and all she wants to do now is make him feel surrounded by love. “Make three wishes before you blow out the candles but don’t say them out loud or they won’t come true.”
Their eyes meet for quite sometime, she can feel him staring straight into her soul, as if he is saying “you know what I’m wishing for” and part of her does, because she knows those three wishes are always the same for the both of them since they met two years ago. To be together, to love each other, to be always this happy.
His warm breath reaches her face and turns the fire into smoke that fills the space between them, letting the moon be the only one to illuminate their faces as they come closer together to seal the wishes with a kiss.
A sweet, short kiss before pulling away for her to crawl in bed on top of him as he fixes himself to rest his back on the headboard so they can be face to face.
“Did you like the surprise? I know it’s late and you wake up at the crack of dawn, and of course, this is not it, you have to open your other gifts but…” Her nervous chuckles get interrupted by one more kiss.
“I loved it, Isabella.” His usual stoic face show such tenderness towards her at all times but something about the way his sleepy eyes are looking at hers melts her heart even more than normal. He’s truly happy about the surprise. His heart beating hard but steady, showing how excited he is. She can feel it, she always does.
“Then I hope you like it even more once you taste it.” Isabella hands him a spoon as the cake sits in between their legs on the bed, and even though now he has his own cutlery, the first piece she takes it’s for him, bringing the spoon to his lips for him to try it. “Be harsh with me, any suggestions?”
He shakes his head and lowers her hand, his fingers intertwined with her long hair as he approaches her lips again, the cream on his lips making her taste the sweetness of it all, not just the cake, to then deepen the kiss more and more as seconds go by, leaving the sweet gift on the nightstand all forgotten about for one much more sweeter.
1:13 a.m finds them all tangled up in their bedsheets breathing slow but uneven, their hairs messy on the pillows and their bodies against each other to keep all warmth they just created in the most intimate and loving way. All the love they made has them thinking how magical is to know those three wishes they keep on bringing up on every birthday, on every fallen eyelash, every shooting star, on every talk to the moon came true, and will continue to be true.
"No tengo sugerencias para ti, sólo una promesa. Una promesa para amarte con todo de mi corazón. Mi Isabella, mi mariposa. A menudo, me pregunto cómo es que tengo tanta suerte, buena fortuna. Incluso hoy, no sé la respuesta. No necesito una respuesta, porque te tengo. Nuesto amor es una cosa imposible. Pero tu lo haces posible."
"Nuestro amor es todo lo que necesito. Eres toda mi vida."
The crickets sing along to the the low hum that come from that candle lit kitchen at 11:43 p.m while she busies herself with sweet preparations. The oven, turned off but still warm enough from being used exactly twenty-seven minutes ago, fights off the cold winter night and makes her wipe the windows with her way-too-big sweater sleeves so the fog wouldn’t hide the magical view she has through it while she decorates the small cake with his favourite cake toppings.
It has to be perfect, it needs to taste amazing, at least that what she first thought when she slipped out of his arms in the middle of their sleep and closed the bedroom door as quietly as humanly possible.
She tried the mix a couple of times, adding sugar and vanilla extract when she deemed necessary but nothing seemed quite right, after all, her baking skills aren’t the greatest. Isabella came to the conclusion that the cake tastes decent and rolled with it to not lose any more time.
Three blue candles sit on top of the wooden counter waiting to be placed on the spongy surface. “Three candles for three wishes”, or at least is what her mom always told her and her siblings on every birthday, a nice tradition to bring luck and happiness to your loved ones. And him… Well, he’s who she loves the most.
By the time she’s done with the decorations the clock marks 11:57 p.m. A sweet message in white cream and sloppy lettering adorns the birthday cake: Happy Birthday Shuhei. His full name, of course, she wanted to draw a heart over the I and she did.
Trembling hands grab the small plate and two spoons, one for each. She would’ve grabbed matches but she doesn’t have anything to hide, not anymore, not to him. He knows her, her abilities, her weaknesses, and he’s always been accepting of them.
Her hips push the bedroom door open slightly and her careful steps make their way to his side of the bed to kneel by his side on the floor, presenting the humble gift she made. Her voice interrupts the quiet of the night for the first time since they decided it was time to go to bed.
“Shu, Shu… Baby.” Not quite a whisper, not quite her normal talking voice, but enough to make him stir and shift under the sheets and covers. Still not a single light, except from the moon shining down on them from their bedroom window. Turning to where her voice was calling for him and rubbing his eyes to see better in the dark, that’s when she gently blows on the three candles and they light up in front of his eyes.
“Isa, wh-what happen- Oh…” A pleasant tone in his sleepy voice once he realises what is happening.
“お誕生日おめでとう, amor mío.” Her pronunciation is definitely a little off but it makes him smile so big. She spend the whole night rehearsing this exact same moment, mouthing the words in Kyoh language to herself while whipping and mixing. She knows saying happy birthday in one’s native language is always heart-warming, and all she wants to do now is make him feel surrounded by love. “Make three wishes before you blow out the candles but don’t say them out loud or they won’t come true.”
Their eyes meet for quite sometime, she can feel him staring straight into her soul, as if he is saying “you know what I’m wishing for” and part of her does, because she knows those three wishes are always the same for the both of them since they met two years ago. To be together, to love each other, to be always this happy.
His warm breath reaches her face and turns the fire into smoke that fills the space between them, letting the moon be the only one to illuminate their faces as they come closer together to seal the wishes with a kiss.
A sweet, short kiss before pulling away for her to crawl in bed on top of him as he fixes himself to rest his back on the headboard so they can be face to face.
“Did you like the surprise? I know it’s late and you wake up at the crack of dawn, and of course, this is not it, you have to open your other gifts but…” Her nervous chuckles get interrupted by one more kiss.
“I loved it, Isabella.” His usual stoic face show such tenderness towards her at all times but something about the way his sleepy eyes are looking at hers melts her heart even more than normal. He’s truly happy about the surprise. His heart beating hard but steady, showing how excited he is. She can feel it, she always does.
“Then I hope you like it even more once you taste it.” Isabella hands him a spoon as the cake sits in between their legs on the bed, and even though now he has his own cutlery, the first piece she takes it’s for him, bringing the spoon to his lips for him to try it. “Be harsh with me, any suggestions?”
He shakes his head and lowers her hand, his fingers intertwined with her long hair as he approaches her lips again, the cream on his lips making her taste the sweetness of it all, not just the cake, to then deepen the kiss more and more as seconds go by, leaving the sweet gift on the nightstand all forgotten about for one much more sweeter.
1:13 a.m finds them all tangled up in their bedsheets breathing slow but uneven, their hairs messy on the pillows and their bodies against each other to keep all warmth they just created in the most intimate and loving way. All the love they made has them thinking how magical is to know those three wishes they keep on bringing up on every birthday, on every fallen eyelash, every shooting star, on every talk to the moon came true, and will continue to be true.
"Cherry Red. That's what I think of when I see you, Josefina. Drives me mad. You know I like it when you frown at me and tell me to buzz off... it makes you smile when you tease me, huh? Maybe I could see that smile again tonight at dinner, if you'd let me take you? Indulge me one time, mi querida."
"Oh, you never give up Ray, do you? But you know what? I feel like this could be a perfect night for a first date, pick me up at seven. I'll make sure to look pretty for you."
Likes: The color orange, watching the wind kick up dust devils in the desert, fine jewelry, braiding other people's hair, when people make her laugh, roasting marshmallows, flowers of all kinds, putting new horseshoes on her horses, riding in the bed of trucks, cow print, going out dancing, square-toe boots, getting drunk off three shots of Jameson, equating strength with beauty, smiling, barbecues, the month of May, when people compliment her, the way her skin looks when kissed by the sun, shopping at the farmer's market, painting her nails, experimenting in the kitchen, the way her key ring jangles on her hip when she walks, wearing cute clothes that make her feel feminine, brushing her locs, Cole teasing her when she can't say his last name right, pound cake, Summer, playing cards, doing her makeup in natural light, when Cole takes off her cowgirl boots for her, watching the sun rise when she's rounding up her cattle, sleeping with the window open, when people request personal deliveries from her farm, the sounds of the desert at night, riddles that she won't guess, when dogs chase cars, fishing, holding hands in public, giving gifts, feeding her chickens, showing off how well she can whistle, hugs, do it yourself renovations on the house, evening rides with the love of her life.
Dislikes: Washing dishes, blood blisters, using spurs on her animals, baked beans, when people expect more out of her than she feels like she can give, the end of summer, eating the same thing every day, taking animals to the slaughterhouse, when people frown at her, waking up before the rooster, unwanted touch, standing at the market all day selling things from the farm, people who cheat during games, rope burn on her hands, dust storms that ruin the crops, people calling her ditzy even though she knows she's not that smart, the feeling of someone leaving her behind, herself without her locs, hauling water from the river, when people tell her she's lost weight, when she has to get feisty for her voice to be heard, replacing her favorite jeans because her thighs chafe too much, when her family yells at her for making a mistake, convincing others she's soft and deserving of love, the feeling of regret.
Abilities: Mara is a very skilled cowgirl. She can ride horses very well and knows a lot about the upkeep and care of farm animals. She can lasso and whistle and tie a lot of knots. She's pretty handy, able to fix little things around her house and farm. She's very in tune with nature and has a natural sense of direction. Mara also likes to garden and has a green thumb which helps a lot when you grow up on a farm. Mara is also really good at cooking and baking.
Favourite food: Tater Tot Casserole with Cheese and Sour Cream and Bacon
Favourite drink: Sweet Tea with a slice of Orange
Favourite flower: Somraldic Poppy
Favourite place: Under a Somraldic Sycamore in the arms of her love
Magic: Mara is a Prairie Maiden, one of the native witches of Somrald. The magic can be either hereditary, obtained if you complete a special ritual, or you are ordained before you're born. Although she's not as devout as other witches in practice, she often prays and gives offerings at her altar for the Maiden of the Valley, the feminine spirit that watches over Somraldic people, specifically women. Her magic is emotional, providing peace and comfort to the people around her through her touch and her words. She also has a lot of empathy for others as well as animals due to this gift. Mara was also born as one of the Maiden's Messengers, a woman blessed by the Maiden of the Valley with the power to change form into that of an animal. Mara's animal spirit is a Red-Tailed Hawk.
Appearance:
Height: 5'11 or 180 cm
Weight: 217 lbs or 98 kg
Hair: Mara has long black goddess locs that she's been growing since she was a young girl. They're waist-length now and she loves to put charms and weave prairie flowers in them. She often does different styles with her locs, wearing a bandana on her head or tying them in ponytails under her cowgirl hat. In her last few years of life, she cut them, revealing shoulder-length dark bouncy curls.
Eyes: Mara has black eyes, like most people in Murik Valley. They're some of the biggest, sweetest eyes you'll ever see. She has long lashes and always lines her eyes with makeup before leaving the house. She's very expressive and sweet and you'll often find yourself softening under her gaze. One bat of her eyelashes and you'll give her anything she wants.
General description: Mara is tall and curvy. She's strong from all the physical labor she does. She carries her weight in her arms, stomach, hips and legs. Her hourglass shape is accompanied by the cute pudge of her stomach that can be seen when she wears the low-rise jeans she loves. Her face is sweet with round cheeks and a soft jaw. Her lips are quite full and she has dimples when she smiles.
Mara is a free spirit. She loves adventure and feeling alive. She loves experiencing new things and going to new places. She's family-oriented, as Valley folk tend to be, however, she's got a wanderlust that can never be satisfied. If she loves you, she loves hard and you'll know it. She's loyal and dutiful to the people she loves. She's quite responsible when it comes to work, but she loves horsing around and having fun. Mara can be a little forgetful, but if it's important, she'll get it done.
Fashion Sense: Mara is always wearing Western clothing, but she still likes looking nice. A good pair of body-hugging bootcut or flare jeans are her go-to, with a nice belt, no matter the occasion. If she's working she'll wear a henley or collared shirt to protect herself from the elements. If it's cold she'll wear a denim jacket with a fleece interior. She's also got chaps and a few vests she'll wear depending on her work day and the weather. If it's a day of leisure, she'll opt for those jeans paired with a fashion top or a low-cut shirt that shows off her full figure. She loves ribbed tops or henleys, but it's always a scoop neck. Mara never leaves the house without her boots. She's got several pairs, some simple for work, some snazzy for going out. She's always wearing gold or turquoise jewelry and never leaves home without a few prairie charms.
Mara also likes dressing up sometimes. She'll wear a dress with a plunging neckline and some decorative boots. It's very rare you'll see Mara in a pair of heels, but she loves how pretty they make her feel.
A brief look into her life:
Occupation: Mara works with her father on their farm. Her duties include cattle wrangling, milking the cows, feeding the chickens and pigs, slaughtering livestock, tending to their farmland, and a world of other things. There's a lot that goes into having a farm. She does most of the intensive labor with the help of whoever they can afford to employ since Myvern is not able to handle most of that labor due to his illness. Mara also dedicates a portion of her life to the Maiden of the Valley as one of her Messengers. Whatever duties the Maiden calls her to do, she will see in a dream, a vision, or a sudden compulsion.
Love Interest:
Cole Berlusconi
Family and friends:
Myvern Gabris, father
Eleni Gabris, mother
Persephone Gabris, little sister
Tiana Samaras, aunt
Clio Mallas, aunt
Pollyanna Evander, best friend
Nazir Circe, close friend
Olympia Mathison, Castor Bedlam, Jason Karras, friends and colleagues
Tomás, Matías, Marcos, and Emilio, acquaintances she met in Maeth
Isabella Ziergah, friend
Hercules Argo, husband
Bree Argo, daughter
Miscellaneous facts.
Mara is insanely strong. She can't quite tear an addressbook in half but she can make a rip.
Mara never saw herself settling down with a man in a traditional sense, but adventuring and traveling all over the world doing new things with the man she loves, and only after that settling down.
She's always wanted a house with a whole wall made of windows.
Mara's love languages are gift-giving and acts of service.
Mara has a few tattoos, most of which she's gotten in honor of the love of her life. The tattoos include a spaceship, an 8 ball, and an oak tree. Her others include a horseshoe on her wrist, a feather on her forearm, and a bull on her shoulder.
Mara is a lively and adventurous girl, but she's almost always been held back by her family.
Mara can shotgun a beer in record time and its one of her favorite party tricks
Mara can drive both a manual and an automatic transmission vehicle and she teaches her friends how to drive. She taught Cole how to both drive a car and ride a horse.
Mara struggled with her self-esteem as a child, in large part because of her family.
Mara has a younger sister who ran away when she was fifteen and Mara was sixteen. This affected Mara in a lot of ways. She hardly likes to talk about it.
Mara has a complicated relationship with her family, but nobody seems to really ever see her side of the story.
Mara meets Cole one summer when they're 18 years old. They fall in a love so deep and intense the relationship sustains long distance for three years, until Mara's family pressures her into marrying someone else to save their farm and livelihood.
She has never loved anyone more than she's loved Cole Berlusconi.
"When you're here with me, I like to think everything's gonna work out. I love you."
The moment Nazir introduced us I knew you'd be it for me and I wasn't wrong. You'll always be part of me, my first love, the love of my life. You taught me what true love is, Marita.
I wish I could still take off your boots and rub your feet after a long day at the farm, I wish I could kiss your sweet lips and play with your fingers all night as we fall asleep after making love.
Upright: Soul-searching, introspection, being alone, inner guidance.
Reversed: Isolation, loneliness, withdrawal.
Minor Arcana: Six of Cups.
Upright: Revisiting the past, childhood memories, innocence, joy.
Reversed: Living in the past, forgiveness, lacking playfulness.
Likes: Tea enthusiast, patchwork quilts made by his grandma, salamander stoves, when books are well-lived (coffee stains, worn out pages, annotations), open windows in every space he is in, black and white checker tiles on his bathroom, when Juno sits on his chest and purrs, thunderstorms, mint chocolate in every single way it could be ordered, blue soft cotton shirts, reuniting with the guys for friendly football matches on Fridays, when schools have a Library day and all the little kids say hi to him, the private section of the library where he only has access, knuckle and jaw kisses, foot massages, ivy growing on the side of his building, sealing cards with fancy wax, cooking for his loved ones, sunbathing at the river, brown corduroy jackets.
Dislikes: The sound of the kettle when the water is boiling, having to make his bed in the morning, when Juno climbs the trees near his balcony to sleep and has to wait for her to come back home, abrupt change, being so swamped in work he doesn’t have time to see his loved ones, the fact that his grandma is way too old now, when people lose their library card and has to do all the paperwork again, being late to things, bad grammar, feeling like he’s losing a debate.
Abilities: He’s a great swimmer and knows how to knit even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he’s incredibly good at crosswords (maybe because he spend his whole life with his nose in books), knows how to recycle paper and turn it into beautiful notebooks where we lays down different play plots ideas he wants to full-on write but is too afraid to actually do it.
Favourite food: Milanesas a la napolitana.
Favourite drink: Mint Iced Tea.
Favourite flower: Calla lillies.
Appearance.
Height: 6’1 ft or 185 cm.
Weight: 163 lbs or 74 kg.
Hair: He’s got dark brown hair with truly defined curls that he styles with a bit of hair wax, only a little bit, just for his curls to hold on for the entirety of the day. It’s a lot of hair but it’s not long per se, just really shaggy all over.
Eyes: His kind, sleepy, black eyes are so soft letting everyone see how he spend all night reading instead of getting a good night’s sleep. He also has dark circles under his eyes but his smile always hides them. A few wrinkles appeared when he turned 30 but they’re not super noticiable.
General description: Even if he tries to hide his slender body with his clothes because he’s not that proud of his lack of muscles, his back is well defined and big, just a bit bony, but its decorated with a ton of little dark freckles that also appear in his chest, legs and arms. His most noticiable feature is his beautiful roman nose and that well-defined jawline. His eyebrows are kind of bushy but he combs them with a little spoolie brush his grandma gave him, and a few freckles appear all over his face when summer arrives and sun touches his face. He’s got veiny (cold) hands.
Fashion sense: Matías really likes layering. White or back cotton shirt, button up shirt, some dress grey or black slacks and Oxford shoes are his go-to outfit for work, depending on the weather he would usually wear a cardigan or a turtleneck sweater too. He would never leave without his watch on his left wrists and he isn’t that much of a fan of jewellery. Another outfit that’s pretty common for him is his soccer attire, jersey and sport shorts with his worn out cleats. In the privacy of his own home is very rare for him to wear a shirt and he prefers to walk around in his comfy blue square-pattern cotton pants.
A brief look into his life.
Occupation: The National Library of Maeth is gigantic to say the least and he’s been working at this place for the past ten years or so, he doesn’t even remember anymore. They have different sections and long, long corridors full of knowledge and fictional stories with space to sit down and read for hours. He’s the one to go for recommendations, to find an specific book or to check one out. Remember, you only have one month and it has to be returned in perfect conditions!
Love interest:
Yasue Kumagai.
Family and friends:
Elsa Torrente D’Angelis, grandmother.
Sergio D'Angelis, father.
Paz D’Angelis, half sibling.
Juan Cruz D’Angelis, half sibling.
Anshelinah Circe, best friend.
Tomás, Marcos, Cole, Shuhei, Emilio and Draigh, his friend group.
Fiorella, Josefina and Dario, co-workers.
Miscellaneous facts:
He baby-talks ridiculously to Juno. It’s super embarrassing.
He’s a tea connoisseur. Has a big box with different flavoured teas from all over the globe.
Surprisingly, he loves to go on outdoor adventures even more so if it means he’ll get to jump down big rocks to a body of water or zip line from mountain to mountain.
He likes to visit his grandma at least once a week, whenever he can at least to say hello and drink a cup of tea with the lady.
He wants tattoos but is afraid of needles and sharp things.
"Matías... that's a beautiful name. The name of an angel. All these wonderful things about you, I want to know like the back of my hand, like the words to my favorite poems. I want to write poems with you, on you, because of you. My Matías D'Angelis. My love from another life."
“I have the first poem you wrote for me in a frame up on my wall, I’ll show it to you once you come home again. I’m so happy I found you in this lifetime too, my sweet girl.”
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