[CURRENT] Renewal

[iloveyouDIE]

The wash of magic seemed to also wash the anxiety. The confidence instead set in, that they were doing what was right in the way they all had chosen. Odal himself was impressive and he wished to know more about the fetch, but now (of course) was not the time.

Algie stepped forward when called, plucking his own hair in example. Only a strand would be needed, a piece of one's self to put forward in good faith. A piece of your body, a mark of yourself, pledging your agreement to the process of what they were doing. With a moment of concentration he put a bit of his magic into it before it settled in his palm.

He walked the path instructed, each hair collected silently from those gathered and to be woven in and embedded into the binding of the new charter. It was fitting that the binding would be a thread, perfect for what they'd chosen, and much less questionable then smears of blood. Most were given a quiet calm smile from him, whether they wanted it or not.

When the professor finished he stopped and presented the consent where the lines in the floor led him. His husband was given a look, a small smile, and he was glad they had been able to do it together. This had been a group effort, every one of them putting themselves forward to contribute. Somehow it made it all the more meaningful that through the frustration, the danger, and in-fighting they had been able to accomplish so much.  

[Smerdle]

There was a reason Theodore Penny didn't like roller coasters. No matter how modern and smooth they were reported to be, there was something about them that shook his organs and left him numb. He rode on them because other people wanted him to, and though he saw the merit in going through with the whole Charter thing, he mostly felt the same about all of this. Other people wanted him to do it, so he did. Still, he did trust those around him as far as magical things were concerned, even the people he didn't know. They had fought a monster together, after all, and most of them seemed terribly concerned about the fate of the world, as if they could truly change anything when there were beings as powerful as the Burning Man lurking in the shadows.

It was difficult not to grit his teeth as his magic was leached away but he managed, maintaining his customary outward indifference even as the power in the bracelet collapsed around him. His hearing went padded, momentarily muffled as if the earth that protected them had packed his ears. The walls were rebuilt with an odd, flowering stone. It wasn't his magic, but it would do.

He plucked a few more hairs than just one, to be safe, then concentrated on the casting, going over the things he was sure of and leaving out what he wasn't. Safety for his familiar, even if he could no longer be there. More time with him than a skunk's lifespan would allow. Maybe even a little of that weird spirit-bound business they had been writing on the whiteboard yesterday. Theo closed his eyes and hoped he wasn't ******** anything up.

I offer my power to bind this creation. And if some burning a*****e comes to collect from some future me because of this, I'm going to be pissed.  

[Melancholies]

The entire world felt like it was split apart, and yet Odal looked calm, and despite the initial wave of oh s**t what ********> panic, Shiloh steadied himself back out quickly. There was a brief moment where he entertained the thought of leaving; he hadn't been on the first Charter, did he want to commit to being placed on the second? But he was a principal, and his magic would undoubtedly make the product stronger in the end. Did Temperance and America feel this way too?

He gave them curious looks. Maybe Meri didn't—she was pretty gung-ho about 'stuff and things'—but in the end they were only curious what-ifs, and they really had no place in his magic right now.

Hair though, that was weird. He watched Algie pluck a hair off like it was no big deal, but Shiloh only gave Jamie a weary glance You ever heard of the phrase 'if it ain't broken then don't fix it'? followed by a snort. Okay, okay, he had to be serious. He reached up and hesitantly plucked a hair off of his own head. What did he want to imbue this with? Oh the choices, the choices, the concerns and the consent...

I'll give my consent, he thought quietly, in a private space where only him and Jamie could hear. The fiber of hair curled and moved in the presence of an invisible wind. And my magic to this charter. I put my goddamn soul into this universe, my goddamn blood into this sigil, my ******** sweat and tears into this piece of magic in front of me— it was by no means a soft deceleration, a gentle imbue of magical force. This was anger and retribution. So that nothing else in the halls of this Court has to ******** suffer, so that no one else's magic is torn from them for someone else's gain. This is a charter that helps people. This is a symbol of magic that does not ******** hurt, that does not ******** hinder, but lets us ******** grow.

There was an overwhelming sadness to his mental words right then, something soft and undoubtedly raw. Even with the new code of conduct in place, he would live past the cycles, he would watch his loved ones die, he would meet them again anew in different places as different people. He gave Jamie a look out of the corner of his eye. Without hesitation he reached out to hold his hand.

I don't want to be separated. I don't want to be alone. If this binds us in magic, I want to be bound in heart 'n soul too. I'm not going to allow the magic to separate us. Use my magic for god ******** whatever the hell else, but I'm keeping this. He thought too, about the Madame. Was the Spinel Lady still listening? Or had she faded into obscurity from the destruction of the arm? Would he still see her ghost when he closed his eyes at night? Are you angry? Can you see me? Nothing like you ever needs to happen again. If it does, I'll ******** stop it. He sighed, I'll stop it. I'll make sure I stop it. In his mind, such a destruction of the Charter was hardly absolute. Maybe in terms of magic and nuances, but he'd still see her face in the crowd. As long as Shiloh lived, so too would the Spinel Lady. The difference now was the fact he had a choice. He had a choice to turn that into either a consequence or something good, something healthy. He could morph turmoil into peace. History existed so that mistakes couldn't be repeated. He'd become living proof of that.

He handed the hair off in turn.

 

[Grey Dragon]

Perhaps it was his earlier practices, consciously lending his magical strength to someone else's manipulations, but the feeling of channeling even that amount of magic didn't bother him. Kaleb simply let it happen, letting the river run it's course.

What really tested his composure were the magical tremors, but he took some strength from the number of familiar faces in the circle, the magic he felt all around him, and Odal's kind voice. Again the four-pointed ritual soothed his worries, the magic offering comfort, safety, refreshment and invigoration in turn. Even the realization that consent would be gathered by locks of hair, rather than blood, was a pleasant surprise.

He was still afraid, but there was no wavering in his intent, and his determination to do as much as he could. This was how they would change things. He wanted to help create a place that did more good than harm, where survival didn't come at the cost of someone else's life or limb. He wanted a framework in which everyone could thrive and not be afraid of what would have to be sacrificed in blood and flesh and friendship just to make it through the day. He wanted the people he cared about to be safe, able to shed the pain and suffering that the old charter had wrought, and he wanted the people who came after him to be able to move forward without the threat of darkness over their heads... Every ounce of his gentle soul wished for kindness and empathy to guide their future, and that was why he had to be strong, at least for this much.

Kaleb swallowed nervously as he plucked a lock of pale hair, but there was no hesitation as he gave it up. It was his kind spirit that had to define him now, not his fear.

Once all the consent had been gathered, he followed the lines to where he would join Leila and America in the center of the circle.  

[Daekie]

Alexis did it so easily. They reached up and yanked a few strands of their bangs out, hair that'd gone untouched by the fire, and handed it over to Jeremiah with unshaking hands -- not that their fingers didn't wish to tremble, to shake, with exertion. But this was no time to shake, to tremble in the wind, there was no wind, no wind --

They opened their eyes (when had they closed them?) and Jeremiah was already four people onwards.

i want, i want - i want this to be good, i want us to be good, i know we can be good. i can't be good, i wasn't born good, i can't, but someone ******** somewhere knows how to be. i want - i want nobody more to be hurt in their ******** tithing, no fingers broken over and over, no shattered bones -

i don't want anyone to die unless they want to, not because they feel like they deserve to, except for me. i want us to be free. i want my life back.

i want my life back. i don't want to live the last four months of my life knowing the universe is going to break and the last thing i'm ever going to experience is the fact i still can't leave this ******** city on my own or be out after dusk or carry a weapon. i want my life back. i want to remember what it was like to bite down on something and not think about my own throat tearing to pieces.

i want to be a good person so i can fit in with all these other good people. i want us all to be good. in some goddamn far-off iteration of the world i hope all these dumb assholes get to be happy. when we made the sigil i would have died for this and i still would, because they deserve a better world.

They focused, and imagined they could feel their magic far-off battering against some metaphysical floodgate. It was still there, they knew it was still there, but - the ocean hadn't pulsed in their blood for so long, maybe, maybe -

And I never want anyone to lose their powers because of some ******** twisted sense of manners or etiquette ever again. Not without a ******** trial. Never again. I'd give my flesh and blood and bone to know that nobody will ever have to lose their magic.  

[cibarium]

Odal's activating the second set of elemental items really did wonders. Leila closed her eyes and opened the rest of her senses to the gentle blooms of power, and for a moment it was as if she were safe at home with Eve, without any wants or worries besides what to put on the shopping list. There was some nostalgia of childhood church gatherings with her parents and extended family mixed in as well, and it allowed the lingering anxieties and regrets still occupying her mind to melt away. Now she was fully present and ready for what would come next.

Her hair was a little singed and jagged from the previous day, but she still had plenty to spare. She plucked a couple of long strawberry-blonde strands off the side of her head and coaxed them to wind up into a more compact coil before handing it off -- an easy feat after the practice with magical threads she'd been doing with America and Kaleb.

The more difficult task was to begin recalling and solidifying her thoughts on what she wanted out of the new Charter. It felt like the debate on the specifics and underlying principles had happened ages ago, the memory dark and hazy compared to the bright and frantic nature of the events that transpired afterward. All she knew for certain is that she never wanted something like Lord Ezra's scheme, or the cycle of abuse that had warped him so, to ever happen again. Magic had been turned into a cause of suffering with the old Charter and the old sigil. After today there was still so much more they needed to do to correct that.

Freedom, trust, healing, self-actualization... that's all she really wanted. No more abuse or paranoia. End what suffering we can end here and make it possible for everyone to live out the rest of their lives. To see the sun rise next year. That's what I'm here for. That's what I'm giving my power to.

She handed off her consent, eyes forward, and moved along the lines to the center as instructed. Kaleb and America got a small nod and a gentle psychic greeting.  

[The Semblance of Unity]

Temperance watched as Odal once again stepped from object to object, coaxing forth magic from the heart of each one. His title 'the vitner' almost seemed like a misnomer at this point - he was so much more. She had not moved when the place shook, holding herself as still as a tree, although she swallowed down some apprehension. Odal circled the pine cone - it smelled sharp, like antiseptic spilled down a clean hallway, comforting, in a strange way. She wondered if the others thought so, as well. The flowers bloomed, the water poured out in sparkling, never-ending waves. The first half was complete and the second was only beginning. She wished she'd been to help more, but the preparation had taken place predominantly during her tithing, and the restriction had chafed worse than the scar burned into her wrist.

She watched as the Mercers approached person by person, collected their hair. Hair, she supposed, was enough of a dna marker to count. If magic was tied to dna. She could surmise it was - or some uniqueness of body. The thumbprint and blood seemed to speak of that. Temperance did not look around to see who had left; she would take note, later, of who was there. Wordlessly, she offered a single strand of blond hair.

This charter I give to it my will to be a force for good in this world and any world. Like my blood before and my magic, and my desire that this place change. It felt as though it were taking a piece of her.


That the magic be a guiding force instead of something to be caged. That no abuse should be perpetrated, that unnatural death be writ out and no longer required. She took a deep breath. She thought of the changes she wanted within the nobles system - for the fetches, another chance. The weres, the wargs, those who were undifferentiated but had limitless potential.  

[The Semblance of Unity]

Now that everything had gone and shuddered like someone had stabbed a ********' knife in it (she glanced first at Chester, then at Kuroda), Preacher guessed it was time for the big old 'part deux'. She'd kind of hoped she'd get some of the cool things she'd created back. As the old fetch moved from piece to piece, she squinted, trying to note down all the details. Never knew when she'd have to dismantle a ********' ******** of a magic spell. Like the sigil - she needed to work on that and it made her a little antsy to be performing such a large magic within the confines of that. The scent of... shampoo washed over her, familiar and not. Not hers, but whose was it? She stared at the pine cone. That was weird.

As her boss came around, she quickly drew a sigil for sharpness in the air before her. They could do anything here with magic, right? Reaching up, she grasped it and used it to slice through some of her hair: the non-burnt strands. Then she grinned and passed him the hair before swiping the sign of sharpness away. Right, Preacher was supposed to think about giving her damnned consent to this magic. No ********' forced coercion, she decided. Her fingers tapped against her thigh. Ya can take m'magic n' use it, but y'ain't use it against me or m'will. I'm gonna ********' do this and ******** all y'all and ******** tha burnin' man - he can lick cunts in hell. We're gon' use all this magic for good s**t and makin' magic knives n' yeah. She looked around at the people she knew, each one of them pledging something similar.

No emotions pilin' in m'head that ain't mine. Sonny to be let out n' about. Like, they should live normally. Choice. In everythin'. ******** pack touch with a ********' splintery broomhandle. For nobles ta not be enforcers, but a resource. Like a person library. For weres n' wargs ta know what tha hell we supposed ta be doin'. Police force or whatever. I guess for old corpsey fetch folks to go 'bout n' get another go. Did I say '******** pack touch'? Tap tap tap went her fingers. Don't ********' manipulate me.  

[saedusk]

No doubt that Shiloh wasn't the only one to question whether he wanted to take part in this new charter or not. It was impossible for Jamie to forget what it felt like to learn his past life had blooded something that not only hurt an innocent girl, transforming her into a monster, but also hurt people close to him, people he cared deeply for. The charter his past life had consented had led to the kidnapping, the torture, the near emotional death of his boyfriend, his absolute favorite person. To remember that still hurt, even when he tried to remind himself it wasn't his fault directly.

But this... this would be his in its entirety. If Jamie chose to turn over his magic to the creation of the new charter, he'd have to take responsibility. No more running, no more hiding behind excuses. It was something that scared him, but something he felt strongly he had to do.

Almost everyone here had "many lives" they'd lived, but at the same time only one. Aside from those who'd live through the cycles with their positions in the magic, no one else would remember what they'd done. If they wanted to make a difference, now was the time.

For the people here he truly cared for and even those he didn't, and for everyone who came after them whether they succeeded in ending the cycles or not, Jamie would believe in the new charter and offer it his power.

Plucking a few strands of two-toned hair, he handed them over when prompted. In his head, in the space he shared only with Shiloh, he thought, I don't want to be separated, either. Absolutely not. There were other times and other places for them to explore their possibilities in that department, but it wasn't wholly unrelated. I want the world we live in together to be good and kind, I want it to be a place that helps people succeed, not tear them down. I want it to be a place where everyone has a choice and no one is forced into something that hurts them. Let everyone have multiple options in their lives. Everyone—visitors, differentiated, fetches, everyone...

Jamie's hand was in Shiloh's and he held it tight as he focused forward. I'm consenting this charter and lending it my magic so we can live together as equals. So no one has to hurt anymore. So everyone can learn and grow with their magic in an environment that supports them. Here was the gentleness to Shiloh's anger. His thoughts were soft yet firm. I believe we can do this. We can make the court something to be proud of.  

[cibarium]

Eve, not unlike America, was a bit enraptured by the ceremony of it all. If it weren't for the seriousness of the work being done she would have brought along her chronomancy journal to take all sorts of notes on top of admiring the work done by Odal, Silk and the other fetches. As it were, she instinctively turned to the patient and mindful state she took on with her own work and let herself enjoy the experience. It was like everyone -- including herself -- was a moving piece on a giant altar, along with it being not unlike a proper witches' ceremony. For the first time in weeks, Eve was able rise fully over her undercurrent of bitterness and anger. It was nice to feel calm and reverent and clear-headed again. She'd just about lost the capacity.

A strand of her hair, dark grey and slightly springy, was added to the growing collection the Mercer husbands were in charge of. She was a little amused by the method they had chosen. Hair was just so benign and innocuous compared to the theater of blood sacrifice everyone was accustomed to. And because of that, it was exactly the sort of avenue Jeremiah and Algernon would pursue. Gentle, innocent, underwhelming, but still personal.

Eve tried not to think much about how Ezra had inherited her other selves' hair. That would lead to the anger and the guilt coming back. Even though the separation spell had worked, it still felt like a failure to her. She should have guessed that there was still his own mind in that stolen body sooner. Should have-

No. Not now.

An end to needless violence, an end to consent violations... that had been an obvious baseline everyone could agree upon, thankfully. She was grateful for that. She trusted it would be a strong foundation for whatever would come next. Let this piece of myself, given of my own free will, become a part of something greater, she thought. Something better.  

[azuredreams]

Nasir was caught in the flow of the magic, listening as Odal spoke and caught in a moment of wonder. This was the kind of magic he expected. The kind where they worked together. A lock of his hair was passed off, carefully take, as he twisted it around his fingers with a bit of magic to give away.

I give my consent, my magic, he thought, and my trust. That our magic together will do something good - become something good. This was easy for him to do, especially with the feelings that were flowing around. The complexity of them was not easy but there was trust all around, a willingness to have hope.

Nasir wanted nothing more than to hope that this new Charter would bring about changes, good ones. The Nobles would be more like guides and not overseers, the wargs would find their places and so would the moonwalkers. It was all he wanted, aside from everyone to be a family.

That was possible with magic, wasn't it? Anything truly was, especially since they were apparently using hair and not blood and fingerprints to do this. Nasir wanted to be able to grow, to learn more and understand this world they were part of. This was a new beginning, a new path opened to them that if these cycles continued they'd be able to operate without fear or worry.

I will do what is in my power to be worthy of these powers I have and to protect those that are part of this world.  

[iloveyouDIE]

WIl was a bit in awe of what was going on. After his blood had fallen, Odal's magic work had him positively gaping. The feelings were new and interesting not good or bad just.. new. And magical.

Since they'd arrived here he'd seen more magic than he had before, more than he'd ever experienced, and he'd seen both the good and the bad. He'd felt it as well, the dichotomy of it's nature. But still, more than anything, Wil was amazed. He may not have yet found his certain magical niche but he'd found Bud and Nasir had Trouble. They had Alexis and everyone else. That was pretty amazing in itself.

Wil scrunched his nose as he pulled a couple curly blonde strands from his head. He seemed to whisper to them, holding them to his lips and mouthing his consent because it felt more real that way. He put them into the Professor's hand as he stepped around, giving the man a small agreeing smile.

Wil may not have been deeply entrenched in the events leading to this place, but he'd already had his word taken twice (once he didn't remember and once he'd been misled). He was doing it right this time. The nobles helping people, the wargs and moonwalkers reaching their ideal selves.. Even the weird zombies getting a piece of the pie. He wanted more than anything for them all to be happy and find their place. He gave his consent wholly and fully to the changes that would shape the new world.  

[Melancholies]

Oliver had left his spot after the destruction of the charter, the influx of magic having been immense and almost overwhelming. His strange... ability to taste everyone's magic, feel it, observe it in his own special way made it incomprehensible, especially when it was all focused through himself. Still, he was alive and standing, and so was Elliot, and so was Horace.

The world trembled around them, the whiplash made him flinch, but he tried to hold steady. We did it he told them, We destroyed it.

Now... to remake it.

He took his spot with everyone else along the outer ring. When it came time for him to pull a hair from his head he did so without much hesitation. Again, I give my magic to this, but only mine. What I pledge I only pledge knowingly with my own consent, not some other me, not some future me or some past me. He sighed, Is that a differentiation I can make? Will you listen to me, magic?

He smiled a little bit.

I want a world where things are clear cut. There's no more room for deceit or trickery, but I understand this is impossible to attain, isn't it? So give me a world where my magic can be used for justice. I want a world of retribution. I want to trust the people around me. I want to stand strongly with the people I care about. I want a safer world. No one needs to die unjustly. No one needs to suffer for the gain of others. Something was glittering in his eyes, There doesn't have to be anymore unjust torture. There doesn't have to be any individuals thrust into positions of power they don't want. The madness that rules moonwalkers doesn't need to define us. The inevitability of death that controls wargs doesn't need to stifle them. The pressure of service doesn't need to crush the nobility. This is our chance to work together for something more. This is how it should be. This is how it's going to be moving forward.

And the smile widened, Or so help me God.

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

'We do not run.' Odal's voice seemed to echo in his head like a prayer; he swallowed. They'd done it. He'd held hands with Oliver and Elliot and they'd done it. Maybe, somehow, Melany could feel it. Maybe she wouldn't regret it. Horace watched as Odal moved from item to item, drawing forth more magic than he thought they could have held. The pine cone, with it's scent - like freshly baked strawberry cake, the druid's stone with a riotous unfurling of lowers, the water that poured and poured, and the censer that hummed as though it were full of bees... Maybe if the fetch didn't actually hate him, he'd talk to him later. It would be interesting to know how he knew which aspects to call forth. Horace gave Odal as tentative smile as the fetch looked at him. Him and Ellie and Ollie. Both of their hands got another squeeze before he let go.

We did it; we're doing it. Together. He moved carefully back to his space, damn his enchanted glasses. To Algernon (he thought - everyone was blurry), he handed a few strands of his hard-earned silky hair. I consent to allow this new thing, this new construct we are making, to use my magic as long as it is within my intent. That sounded good, right? This had to work because there was no other option. Little hair, he thought, carry my intent with you. I... I don't want to be alone, not again. Not even alone in a crowd. I can't do it again. Use my magic for good, and for this... this selfish request.