Location: Spinner’s Trail
Open to: Everyone
Time: Early morning
The stereotypes came from some place, at least when it came to dear Ria, better known as Chalchiuhtlicue to those who are closest to her. The goddess of the river and the ocean and the lake and the stream liked to be near the water, and that wasn’t so much myth as it was based on experience and facts. An odd place to find her would be in the middle of a forest, walking like she was seeking an adventure further and further away from the shore. But the fact was that she liked to go alone and stay quiet, listening for the trickling sounds of a stream, trying to see if she could just sense it like she used to. With each step, she’d fall deeper and deeper into a focused trance, separating every sound to narrow it down. The sound of another’s voice startled her, causing her to nearly trip before she’d grabbed on to a nearby fallen tree branch. Looking up, a blush fell over her face. “You spooked me…” she said, nearly out of breath, “I didn’t think anyone came out here this early, what are you doing here?”
John chuckled when the person stumbled and looked back at him with a look of shock and mild embarrassment he could see creeping up her face. “I’m always up this early,” John replied as he approached and stopped to shrug. “Just askin’ if you’re all right? Most people who come out here aren’t all right.” He didn’t offer up more information on himself in that way, but he was having a rough day, too. Anniversary of losing his beloved human to the vampires. Always made him itchy to destroy something.
Stepping out of the Waffle Shop, Senan let out an exasperated sigh. The risk of going there and ended up someplace else was always a factor. Thankfully, it seemed the other customers were equally as confused. “Where do you think it dropped us off this time?”
John knew the perils of the Waffle Shop because he really liked the chocolate waffles with whipped topping and sought them out at least twice a week after a shift at the cemetery. He chuckled when someone asked where they were. He had no clue and that was usually how he found his way around. “Well, the sun rose there, so that’s East,” John offered with a shrug. He just needed to get home for some shut eye before his next shift. “If we walk back thata way,” he said in a drawl as he pointed up a street, “we should be able to find some landmarks to tell us where we are.”
It was late. All Abe wanted was to go home and wash the smell of booze and attitude out of his hair, smoke a cigarette or ten and go the fuck to sleep. But of course, he was never allowed a moment of peace or some time to himself, there always had to be something — or rather, someone — to ruin it.
“What do you want?” he asked with an annoyed sigh, turning around to face the person who had just walked in. “Can’t you read? The sign says closed.”
Yeah, the hour was late for the curfew and John was contently sloshed, but he figured he should come back into the bar after seeing a police car circling like they were just waiting for him to take a step for his truck or out of the parking lot to pick him up. So, he’d done the only thing he could think to do and come back inside with the delusional hope that he’d be allowed to stay the night. After all, he wasn’t the only one stuck in this bar.
“It’s half past ten,” John pointed out as he stood between the door and the bar top. “Figure you need to get home, too, but we’re here and the cops are out.” He shrugged. “So what are we going to do?”
amethyst: my muse calms yours down in whatever way is found suitable
“That’s not fair,” John said as a dog’s head brushed under the fingertips of his freehand after he’d just took a swig from a flask with the other. He had been yelling and Rowan the human-shaped being because Rowan was upset that John had nearly gotten himself killed trying to slay a group of vampires and their newest brethren who had risen at the cemetery. They were holed up in the church and John was mingling healing himself with drinking his sorrows, which wasn’t the best idea, something Rowan had pointed out. But now he was a dog and he was headbutting John who was sitting on the floor behind the pews and it just wasn’t fair.
“Fine,” John relented after a good thirty seconds of trying ignore the dog nudging him to take his attention off the liquor. “I won’t go back out there. Fine.” He was all huffy but he did appreciate that someone cared for him.
It wasn’t clear whether the man meant bourbon enrouged or halted the rash decisions, but watching the man next to him slump more than slide from his stool made Vili feel like the answer might just be more confusing. Instead he watched, amused, as the drunk leaned closer to him. He’d spent his entire life around people as addled, if not more so, so it only brought to a smile to his lips when the stranger proposed a game. Vili wasn’t the best at darts, but he was sure his sobriety would aid him well.
“I don’t know,” Vili said jokingly, “It seems a little unfair to steal the coin of a drunk, even if it is on his own terms.”
“The coin?” John repeated with another judging squint. “How old are ya anyway?” He shook his head and propped a cowboy hat on top of his curls. “Doesn’t matter, let’s play. And I ain’t handicapped, don’t ya worry.” John assured the other man with a sharp nod and headed toward the dart board.
Taking the three darts from the board, John held them out and winked up at the much taller man. “We’ll see who loses coin, darlin’” he added with an impish grin.
Upon realizing who it was, the church grim began to calm down and his tail began to wag. John was a nice witch and never tried to chase him out of the cemetery. When the other held out his hand, Rowan moved forwards and pressed his head into the other’s hand - his tail never ceasing its wagging.
John snorted a soft chuckle as the grim welcomed his hand. “You must be pretty damn busted up if you’re gonna let me give ya some head pats,” John replied. He gave the grim’s ears some loving rubs as he started to speak in Latin. The spells were much older than John, but he knew them well because he was regularly getting into tussles with the wrong types of creatures. He closed his eyes as his body gave into the magic and the wounds on his friend were healed.
JOHN MARTIN called into ORACLE FM. They were a little bit DRUNK & HOT-HEADED at first, but we kept them talking until they got a little TAMED & DILIGENT. They said they’ve been working as GROUNDSKEEPER AT THE CEMETERY, and thinking about aligning themselves with LILITH since they have been living in Nova Satus for EIGHT YEARS, and from what we can tell, they still give off huge FRENCH TUCKED SHIRTS AND BIG BELT BUCKLES, SLOW TALKING BUT NOT SLOW THINKING, THE SCENT OF GRAVE DIRT AND BOURBON vibes . [MICHAEL VLAMIS, WITCH, CIS-MAN, 30, HE/HIM] @revivalreblogs
Born to witches of a coven of a proverbial ghost town in West Texas, John knew a hard and sheltered life early on. He worked on the land and with the animals of the coven leader’s ranch since he could stay on the back of a horse. His mother was the town rainmaker, with a penchant for weather and natural magic. John’s father was the town animal whisperer and taught John a great deal about how to treat livestock with caring hands.
As an only child, John thought he was unstoppable as a witch and spent a good deal of time pushing boundaries with his parents. For this reason, by the time he was a teen, the coven supreme made him one of the town’s senteries. He excelled with defensive spells and glamoring abilities. Venturing out on his own led John to land himself in some hairy situations, and then he met a human. He’d always been told to avoid humans because they would cause war, but did young John listen? Of course not. The human was a lanky, tanned teen about John’s age who had gotten lost on a Boy Scout trip. John had no idea what a Boy Scout was but he was enamoured with the other boy after he conjured water for the boy to drink and was thanked.
Over the next few years, John and the other boy would meet in secret in the land between the coven and the humans. Naively, John showed the fellow teen more and more of what magic could accomplish and eventually, when they were young men, they confessed their love for each other, though it’s unsure who did so first because they were both the chatty types.
Unknown to John and his love, the land they were meeting upon was hunting grounds for a local enclave of vampires. John discovered this abruptly and violently when he was traveling at night to meet his beloved and found blood at their campground. In blind panic, John used the blood to scry the location of the other man. By the time John caught up with the vampire, he was ready to kill and the vampire gave him the the option of turning his lover or John could kill the vampire and seal his lover’s fate. Again naive, John made the terrible choice for his lover to be turned and waited as he was mourned and buried by the humans before the night he would return.
John waited in the cemetery with the ghosts and when his lover came out of the ground? He was not the same and John was devastated. The vampires arrived and took their new child of the night with them. John went to the supreme and relayed the entire story. He was struck down for his foolishness and told he could not return to the coven until he had proven himself trustworthy.
Wandering, John’s anguish came out of him as he hunted vampires. When he heard of Nova Satus, he couldn’t stay away. He came to be the cemetery grounds keeper of the city and now, waits, night after night to slay vampires as they come out of the ground, which is awful on his psyche and he drinks to compensate.
Sometimes Vili wondered whether leaving his life behind to move to Nova Status was a good idea. He’d only been here for a week, yet his dreams of reuniting with his family were already dwindling as it seemed none of the other gods had made it yet. He cursed himself, should probably have just stayed in England and watched from afar til he knew more, but it was too late now. He’d already broken into his savings to get here as soon as possible and there was no going back.
So drink it was to comfort him when his family wasn’t around. Maybe he if got drunk enough he could imagine he was back in the halls of Valhalla, drinking mead by the gallon and watching as the vikings waged war all day long.
“Y’know,” he said to the seat next to him, not really caring who it was or whether they listened, “I should really know better for a man of my age than to make rash decisions…. yet here I am.”
John was sitting at the bar, minding his business and his liquor when the giant of a man next to him spoke up. Taking a more incisive glance, John picked up on of his shots and held it up to the stranger next him and grinned. “That’s what bourbon’s for,” John said and knocked back the shot before thumping the shot glass on the bar’s counter. He couldn’t even feel the burn anymore and knew he was more than tipsy, but that didn’t stop him from sliding off his stool and squinting at the guy aside him. “You want to quit thinkin’ for awhile? Let’s play some darts, mountain man. How’s that sound?”
It had been an eventful night. Some hooligans had thought they could find some expensive things by digging graves. Apparently they hadn’t heard the rumors of the feeling of something always watching. During the chase, there’d been some fighting and they might have pulled a knife on him. He’d won, but he was currently resting and nursing his wounds. They would heal in a few hours, considering he wasn’t even technically alive, but they still gave him discomfort.
As someone approached the church grim, his eyes flashed red and he snarled - more out of annoyance than true anger.
John had been on the other end of the cemetery, walking the perimeter and had missed the grave robbers, but he surely found their mess when he came back. With a few stylistic waves of his hands, he cast spells to bless the grave and put the dirt back where it belonged. He then cast summoning charms to call back the spirits. When that was finished, he kept walking to see if he would find more vandalism and that’s when he came across the snarling grim.
“Hey now, Rowan,” John said in a slow drawl and lifted his hands in surrender. “You let me heal you up and then you won’t be so keen on bitin’, ya hear?” He said, never one to heal someone without permission, but he saw the wounds and held out a hand. “Just gonna heal ya, hold on,” he said, hoping that Rowan would calm down.
