BIO. CONNECTIONS.
Peter Solarz
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@thenecrcmancer
BIO. CONNECTIONS.
where: the acheron, shortly before closing. who: @slumberlcss
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------THE TINKLING CHIME above the door to his shop let him know of the final entrance ... one last customer before he closed up for the evening. a younger rider would have found frustrations in these moments, but there was truly nothing better for him to do than work ... and his hours catered to all walks of life through skull. recognition lit his eyes and he offered a soft ‘ ah! ’ as he disappeared into one of the back rooms to snatch the package he knew lay aside from the customer in question: ophelia.
fingers brushed her item - neatly wrapped with her name scrawled across it in his chicken scratch, before he reappeared with it in tow. “ i was starting to think you forgot about this. i don’t like chasing people down in town. after a few months, i toss them on the shelves for special stock ... or keep them. ” perhaps his explanation should have been sheepish, but the honesty in his tone kept him from feeling any echo of shame. he set the package atop his counter ( accompanied by the soft thud of luna leaping up beside it ) and offered the vampire a sincere grin. “ so thank you for saving me that trouble. ”
chronicxwanderlust:
It’d only been in jest, a reaction to the surprise that the cat’s presence had delivered her, but Rider’s words brought on a certain bout of guilt in Marley, as if she had quite physically put a bell around her neck. She watched as the tuff of white fur suddenly appeared atop the counter, nestling into her owner’s arm; a silent demand for attention, and one that he met with a simple raise of his fingers. Marley had never had a pet growing up–she’d had a hard enough time taking care of herself and her mother, but she’d had a penchant for feeding the stray cats that wandered the Waterhole from time to time. As the owner’s cat’s eye turned towards Marley once more, she met it with her own gaze. Sorry, it silently said.
She wasn’t the only one apologizing. Marley returned her attention to the man she’d really come here to see, the rasp of his apology bringing her back to herself. She wanted to laugh, to ask if he’d truly been sorry to hear of her mother’s death, but having already made it awkward with her comment about the bell, she refrained. She’d heard plenty of condolences the last few weeks. What was one more to grin and bear? A small “thank you” and a nod of her head was offered instead.
His question had her second guessing herself, brows furrowing together as Marley peered into the open box. Part of her irrationally feared that today, its contents would be different. That she’d just imagined the crystals and the foreign languages, the business card entirely. She had been a few glasses of wine deep when she’d finally had the chance to go through it… “I didn’t understand half of it.” She admitted, though now was beginning to wonder if that had simply been due to the wine. But as the familiar unfamiliar objects became visible within the shoebox, she felt more confident in her initial inspection, and stood by that whatever it was Helen had been hoarding, none of it would be any use to her dead.
She hadn’t meant to laugh. A knee jerk reaction. Truly, it wasn’t funny, except that maybe it was. He was speaking of objects. Inanimate objects. Junk she’d found in a box underneath her mother’s bed. What allegiances could they possibly have? “Look, I’m…I’m sorry, okay?” She tried to wipe the grin from her lips, slightly delirious from the sleep she wasn’t getting and the water she wasn’t drinking and the constant feeling of suffocation she felt even when her lungs practically burned with the deep breaths she forced through them. She attempted a play at serious, to mask how ridiculous she found this to be, but it fell short. “My mom, as you probably know, was crazy. Batshit. I don’t even know what she was doing with half this shit–stuff.” She corrected. “I mean, she didn’t even–” Believe in it, she wanted to say, but it wasn’t so much believing that Helen Callahan never expressed. It was hard to deny something that was right there in front of you. But if Marley thought about it, she’d never heard her mother so much breathe a word about the supernatural residents in town, or how the two of them had ended up amongst them. She’d never thought to ask.
With a sigh, Marley shook her head. “You said you can just dispose of ‘em, right?” Even if Marley had wanted any of her mother’s things bequeathed to her, the Callahan bloodline was bound to die when Marley did, and she didn’t want whoever it was who was going to have to handle her things to have to worry about objects and their allegiances. “ They’re probably better off that way, trust me. And I could pay you, for the trouble.”
-
------FINGERS GRAZED OVER the contents of the box. he could feel the magic thrumming in them: strong where the grimoire was tucked at the bottom, weaker for crystals used only once before their owner had passed. the varying objects within had values all their own ---aforementioned tomes of magic and experiences were priceless if only because it was tasteless to sell something so personal. though rider did have a few grimoires tucked on safe shelves in the back room, peered through once to ensure the contents were safe before he bound them with cord and put them away. to think helen callahan’s would join them. it was in marley’s incredulous tone, the denial, the accusation of CRAZINESS.
“ your mother wasn’t crazy. ” rider’s tone was soft, lips pressing briefly into a thin line before he sighed and gently pulled the box of belongings closer to him. “ at least, not crazy for what she owned, in here. ” and as if the accusation marley had barked was broad, he gestured to the shop around them. if helen was insane for owning those items, rider surely had to be beyond help for running a shop dedicated to it. how bad did it look that his business card had been tucked among those things? but with his gesture he wafted away those thoughts, offered only a shrug in their stead. “ people have many facets. just because she never shared a piece of herself with you doesn’t mean that she didn’t hold personal belief or spirituality in it. ”
but he didn’t know the relationship this woman had with her mother, and while helen had been a customer rider was slow to call anyone ‘ friend ’ in town. perhaps there was damage between them that would go unrepaired forever. perhaps not ---it wasn’t his place to know, especially now. still, he shrugged and shook his head. between his palms rest the weight of an anchoring responsibility, and he was all too familiar with the unfinished business of the dead. “ i can get rid of them. ” the confirmation was silent, punctuated by a curt nod.
“ you don’t need to pay me anything. i can handle it from here. ” but ... it wasn’t his place to convince her of the worth of the items within. a family legacy gone with disinterest. it was sad, surely. and later on in the evening when he bound up helen callahan’s grimoire he would say his piece for her everlasting soul, then make a home for the tome among the others, forgotten except for rider’s memory of them.
chronicxwanderlust:
Graham hadn’t been back to the Acheron since the time with Rhine and his sun catcher. He was almost taken aback upon entering and not immediately seeing the trinkets that’d once been precisely set up in their specific spots, done just so in order to amplify the light caught in their perimeter. The memory did the moment no justice, Graham’s mind unable to truly capture what a sight it had been, though he held onto it anyways. The awe it’d awoken in him; a feeling he hadn’t had in quite some time.
That feeling lingered despite the shop’s return to normalcy–at least, as normal as Rider’s shop could be considered. Though he didn’t know what half of the products on display were (nor could he even begin to imagine what was not on display), he found a sort of peace in the simple act of browsing, a sort of calm that he wouldn’t have felt in either the isolation of his trailer, or company in the likes of Mel’s or The Drunken Cactus.
His gaze lifted to Rider at the sound of the man’s voice, before quickly jumping to the aforementioned third shelf, body shifting away from the display as if he’d been the one to break the glass there. “Oh.” Graham tried to note what it was that’d broken from the remaining figures, but his mind drew a blank, unable to connect the dots. “I, uh, hope it wasn’t anything too valuable?” His initial instinct was that perhaps the cat had knocked into the shelf. His attention dropped to Luna, who was staring back at him from her place on the counter. A sense of guilt, and a bit of unease, was quick to wash over Graham under her stare, as if she had somehow heard his thoughts. Sorry, Luna, he rushed to amend.
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------“ JUST A WITCH ball, for plants in the window. ” his words were thoughtless in delivery, though luna stared at graham with her one good eye. large, golden, judging, as if she knew that graham had intruded that it was she who had broken it ( and today she had merely chased a grasshopper outside of the mobile home, thank you ). it took a long moment before she blinked, and an even longer one for her to look back to rider and edge herself just that much closer to him.
rider’s own interactions with graham had been limited in his three years here. his knowledge of the wolf was on a need-to-know basis ... the minimal requirements for dirty work done for the eldest brother, instead. it wasn’t his place to mention that night nor was rider inclined to bring it up ... but his presence now did strike curiosity. he pressed his elbow into the counter, chin into his palm, and his eyes narrowed while it was his turn to consider graham for a long moment.
“ are you interested in a journey of spell craft, today? or were you looking for rhine? or ... something else entirely? ” which was to say ---HOW CAN I HELP YOU? he wasn’t terribly fond of people looking over his shoulder while he worked, even if it was just going over stock lists and inventory. springtime was the worst for it ... cleaning, followed by sage-ing out the shop to usher out the negative energies that might have wafted in with his customers. the first step, this one, was not the busiest but surely one of the most important ones.
inadaptadocris:
Cris allowed his eyes to wander about while the man moved– trying to not appear as awkward as he was feeling. He hadn’t asked for many things, even after all his years in this town– but he’d found himself wanting something to remind him of his past and the things he struggled with. It was a strange desire, one he wasn’t sure to think about.
When the man spoke, his eyes snapped back to his face. “Yeah… yeah– that’s just fine.” He took in a deep breath. “Um not much… Maybe like… an ounce?”
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------“ AN OUNCE. I can do that. ” he offered a nod before jotting down the note for the request, then peered back up at cris. “ contact number? i don’t want to have to chase you all over skull when it comes in. ” he wondered why he was so nervous. surely there wasn’t anything that DREADFUL about being in the shop. though rider had a notion that his reputation might have preceded him in some instances. it wasn’t enough that his family had attempted to chase him out of new orleans for his magic, he was sure their word-of-mouth had spread here, too. BUT SKULL WAS DIFFERENT, for so many reasons.
“ i’m not going to bite, you know. you can relax a little. people come in here all the time, some for way crazier reasons than herbs. ”
medixinal:
The dust that filtered through the sun glowed, dancing around without a care in the world. Her fingers silently slid across the glass shelves as she browsed the newer items in the shop. She didn’t come in often (by human standards), but every time she did there was something new to see. Her hair caught in the sun, a live fire floating about her shoulders as she turned to the owner of that familiar voice.
“What did you break this time?” Slowly making her way around the store she came to stop in front of the counter, leaning down she grinned at Luna, that cat that never left Riders side. “I heard you had a new tea in, and thought we could share a pot?”
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------“ I DIDN’T BREAK anything, and i’d resent that you thought i did, if i cared enough. ” perhaps it sounded a bit harsh on his behalf, but rider’s tone suggested the true intention of his words ---emotionless, busied by the chore of running his shop in the down time. he wasn’t so careless as to break his own stock. accidents happened sure, but he was always gentle around the delicate objects he sold ... HE’D BE A POOR SHOPKEEP IF HALF OF HIS STOCK BROKE BEFORE IT WAS DISPLAYED. perhaps he painted the image of himself a clutz ---incapable of carrying gentle things in his shredded palms. if that’s how they chose to see him ...
“ i have a few. ” hazel eyes peered through curled strands of hair, fallen before his gaze. they shone more grey today - matching the dim setting of the acheron in truth. “ spiced pear, rose petal, and a ginger that’s supposedly been blessed by someone. preference? ”
inadaptadocris:
–Cris wasn’t sure if he was even in the correct place; but he wasn’t sure where else he’d go to look. He cleared his throat slightly before finding himself shifting a little awkwardly on his feet.
Eventually, he opened his mouth to speak, “You import stuff… right? Like… plants and herbal shit.” He made a face, unsure of what to say. He was probably completely wrong about the shop. “I was looking for a shop that could see me either live or dried Pineapple Sage.”
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------EYES LIFTED FROM his stock list to peer at the customer ... even luna gazed at him with her one large, golden orb. he recognized him from the hellhounds ... while rider mostly dealt with arden directly he made an appoint to at least know the other members BY FACE. they were welcome here, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d run favors for a member. “ i do, yeah. ” the request had him lifting a finger --- one moment --- and briefly rider disappeared into the back room. when he returned it was with a small black book, well-written in and old enough that the pages he flipped through had begun to yellow a bit.
“ yeah, i can get it. take about four days? ” returning to his perch he reached for a pen, underlining a number once he reached one ( batted away by luna at some point, almost ready to tip onto the floor before he rescued it ). “ how much do you need? ”
as fragmented, imperfect beings, yours is a never-ending quest: a quest to find your purpose, knowing your end is assured, to find the strength to continue, when all strength has left you, to find joy, even as darkness descends, and amidst deepest despair light, everlasting.
venat, final fantasy xiv: endwalker.
moonshncs:
riley wasn’t really a cat person, she blamed the wolf instincts, but she didn’t dislike felines. while she could never see herself owning one, she certainly didn’t mind offering the stray pet or bits of salmon when she stumbled across a furry friend. the blonde offered a half smile when she heard the cat make a noise, she seemed so proud of herself and riley was thankful. “perfect, give me a sec.” she replied, grip toying with the bag, “the dumpster is full, i was just gonna drop it here anyway, but thank you.” added she, setting the bag gently on the ground nearby. “meet me out front?” because alleys were creepy. riley quickly ducked inside without waiting for an answer. she’d invite them, but health code sure wouldn’t like miss luna visiting the kitchen. so riley was quick, grabbed the tupperware and popped back outside through the front, eyes scanning for the owner and his fur baby.
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------HE GESTURED SLIGHTLY at the request, three eyes ( his two hazel, luna’s one gold ) watched her disappear from the alley’s mouth before six legs ( two human, four feline ) moved around to the front of the diner. as if she knew she would be getting some sort of treat luna weaved as she trotted, offering a quiet chirrup as she and rider made their way. they appeared at the entrance shortly after riley did, and rider ( like a father with a child ) notioned for luna. “ say thank you. she didn’t have to go back inside to get you her salmon.”
and luna gave another meow, perky and pleased. perhaps if she were truly a cat she might have been wary of riley. not that her status made her less-than, but her affinities simply seemed more sided toward what rider thought of a person as opposed to that luna might perceive herself. the wolves did not bother her, because they did not bother rider. ( now the reapers ... they were another story ). “ i am sorry for scaring you in the alley. i didn’t mean it. and thank you ... for the treat for her. ”
chronicxwanderlust:
The yard sale had fulfilled its purpose in hollowing out the trailer. What didn’t sell had been either trashed or dropped off at Goodwill: nearly everything, except for the shoebox tucked underneath Marley’s arm. It’d been an accidental find, having been looking for an earring she’d dropped (the set had sold for a whopping $2) in her mother’s bedroom, when she’d noticed the box stashed underneath. She’d tried to make sense of its contents: a polaroid picture of a man she didn’t recognize, some crystals, writings in a language she couldn’t read, and…a business card for some place called The Acheron. It wasn’t a business she’d recalled being in town before, but a look at the address on the back told her it was located right on Main. Her return to town had been nothing more than a blur, so Marley must’ve blown right past it without giving it a second thought.
The bell above her head chimed with her entrance into the shop, free hand moving to push her sunglasses from her nose to the top of her head. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, what business her mother possibly could have with a place like this, but when nobody immediately came to meet her, curious eyes turned to roam over the displays freely, body gravitating towards the shelves.
Her fingers had gotten ahead of her, just having reached out to touch the leaves of a plant she’d never seen before, when a soft presence at her feet startled her, nearly dropping the box on what was quickly recognized to be a cat–and who she assumed to be it’s owner, several feet ahead of her. She hadn’t even heard him come out, but she recognized him from The Waterhole. He’d been at the yard sale.
“Might need’a put a bell on that one.” Marley’s voice came out more breathless than she’d intended, clearing her throat as she made her way to the front counter. Her box was set atop of it, raising her eyes to the man’s face, as if just the sight of it would spark some remembrance. “So, I found…this, with some of my mother’s things in it. Or…I think, they’re my mother’s things?” She was quick to shake her head. “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t really got much use for them anymore, as you can imagine, so I just figured maybe you’d be able to do somethin’ with them.” Even if doing something with them was merely getting them off Marley’s hands.
@thenecrcmancer
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------“ THE GREATEST TRAGEDY in life is putting a collar on something that’s meant to be free. ” and he’d never hamper the nosy prodding of luna lorne. she was allowed to go as far as her heart desired - nothing physical tethered her to rider’s side, and yet she stayed ( with preference ). her lone golden orb stared at the woman for a moment before luna offered a chirrup, waddled her way over to the counter where she leapt up onto its surface and proudly sat beside rider’s forearm, waiting for a stroke or two in recognition for her efforts. without a thought he complied, let his fingers stroke through the impossibly soft white at her head, the back of her neck, all while keeping his attention on his customer - and the box she set down before him.
rider was, for the most part, a silent observer ---a huginn, muninn ---within skull. when his presence was needed he was there to provide it, but otherwise he much preferred to linger back and watch or listen. his voice was not so silent on the inner workings of a possible war that was not his to fight, but that was neither here nor there. for this moment he could claim that observation had recognized the woman before him ( she was dwelling in the same living space as him, after all ) and while he’d passed through the yard sale she had it was a brief accord ... for the interest of the recently deceased ( and because luna was much nosier than he was ).
“ i was sorry for helen’s passing. my condolences. ” beneath the soft rasp of his own tone came the light purring of luna, an accentuation to the statement, as if she were offering her own in turn. and he need not peer through the box to know what a good chunk of the contents were ( though he would, anyway ) ... or that what the woman had brought him was an array of things either traded here or in the same vein of. so rider simply nodded, ceased his petting of luna enough to slowly reach for the box and lift the lid off. “ did you look through this, at all? really look? ”
magic was a passed-on sort of thing. witches couldn’t be made, only born, and rider was so-well acquainted with the intricacies of it in every form that he basically breathed this culture, now. of course, like any other genetic thing it could skip generations whole ( magic was a picky thing like that ), but that wasn’t always the case. some witches lived their whole lives without knowing what they were ( a sad thing, to have a connection and never use it ), while some turned away willingly. and some, like rider, embraced it and made it their whole lives. “ i could easily take the whole thing off your hands and at the very least dispose of them properly. unfortunately, a lot of the items in here are personal ... in that they cannot simply be passed onto another person unless the owner bequeaths them verbally. they have allegiances like that. alternatively, they can be passed down securely to another member of the former owner’s bloodline ... that’s you, in this case. ”
ofchemicalgardens:
“Leaf water is a lot better than that. It’s for the elders— elderly,” He corrected himself in his small quip, smirk still wrinkling at the edges of his mouth despite the small stammer. “You might need to make the switch soon, Rider. It’s your calling.”
Of course, Rider was significantly younger than anyone Rhine had grown up with. Fae lived on for years, even if they were weak. It was the realm that kept them alive, that created them to endure. As long as nature still carried on, they would too. There were ways to strengthen their magic and their survival, and that had been where Rhine came in. He’d seen the realm’s power first hand, roaming every beaten path as a work of its manipulation over a human body.
As a changeling, he had been part of a dealing. It was an ancient practice, one that seemed to be lesser known than the fae’s actual existence. A human child would be replaced with a sickly fae, where both parties agreed upon having a healthy offspring. The fae would have its abilities dormant in its separation from the realm during such important milestones, and the human child would live in the realm in it’s place where it would strengthen the line. At least, that had been their intention until Rhine fleed. They had yet to track him down this time around, and considering he still looked mostly human, they’d struggle to find him so easily.
He fumbled with his hands, nearly forgetting his manners. “Thanks. I don’t know how many anyone drinks it without it. It’s brutal.”
Rhine moved with a soft clinking echo, vases put back together and crystals finding their places between shelves. He moved to the boxes Rider had discussed before with an ache, and he turned with a curiosity he didn’t have time to answer for himself, “So what are these for, anyways— like really for?”
-
------“ YOU’LL GET NO argument from me ... i prefer tea to coffee, i just don’t always want to be slapped in the face with the leaf readings when i finish. ” and perhaps he could have had bagged tea, but rider turned his nose up to the notion of it. he’d been raised in a family of witches, after all, to do anything less than witchy things felt highly disrespectful. UNTIL, OF COURSE, THEY DISCOVERED RIDER’S MAGICAL AFFINITY. then all bets were off and he was left to thrive on his own ( which he very much did ). that didn’t matter ---habits were long since drilled into him. “ i’ll have you know, i’ll be the hottest old necromancer in this state when it does happen. ” he hummed, a slight smirk taking the corners of his lips.
“ some people are built different. instead of having souls they have a drive to meet their daily goal and a little black demon running on a hamster wheel inside. ” he teased, but he was guilty of drinking just black coffee when the time called for it. still, he was more than happy for the slap of sweetness that slicked his tongue whenever he sipped at his coffee ... and more than happy to share it with someone who seemed to appreciate it. HE LIKED HAVING RHINE AROUND. he was quiet and dutiful, and while he had his quirks rider never quite minded the towers of light-catchers or other odd projects that might have taken rhine’s interests. things were always put back where they belonged, handled with care.
eyes flicked to the indicated boxes, head tilting slightly, hair falling into his eyes. there was always a wildness to rider’s features like that. as if the time he spent without a home or family had made him partially feral - as if he’d learned how to comb it back just enough to mesh in with the people of skull. with wolves, vampires, killers ... nobody really paid mind to notice a stray witch, did they? quietly he took stock of the boxes before clearing his throat and answering. luna, for her part, leapt from the counter and made her way down the aisle toward rhine for investigations. and she brushed her cheek against a box just as rider mentioned its innards, as if gesturing - as if she knew. “ there’s some altar cloths in one of the boxes ... yes, that one. witches have spaces to practice their concentrated magicks ... and you’re meant to put yourself into those spaces, but they’re also meant to be treated respectfully. altar cloths are a good way to dress them up, to make the space somewhere for spiritual focus, to personalize it. we might sell cloths with the same design or pattern, but once you own it, you put your energy into it ... it’s yours, uniquely. ”
he could go on for hours about the items he sold. passionate, to a fault, with magic ... despite being told how bastardized his own was considered. it never stopped rider. it was the INTENTION behind magic that dictated if it was light or dark, and nothing else.
location: the acheron, 4pm. who: open to everyone.
------THE SOFT LIGHT of a shifting sun flooded into the large windows of his shop, and beside him luna dozed with her head in her paws. slow afternoons like these were a blessing and a curse where he both favored the time to let his brain rest and detested how slow it passed. only when his familiar perked her head up and gazed her one golden eye at the door did rider peer over, licking the tips of his fingers to turn the page of the distributor’s magazine ( browsing for items to stock he’d likely never get ).
“ careful near the third shelf. glass broke before, i swept it all but there might still be a piece lingering. ” it was better than a welcome! in a cheery tone that didn’t suit him. hazel eyes finally glanced up at his company, and now both rider and luna stared.
the path you have chosen is paved with the dead. walk it with your eyes open, or not at all.
matoya, final fantasy xiv.
Michiel Huisman in ‘The Ottoman Lieutenant’