[Void] An End, To All Things

[Melancholies]

Oliver looked up when Jamie spoke, his own eyes sunken and shadowed and reddened with emotion. Seeing Jamie cry too just sent another wave of tears down his face. Unlike the ugly sobs before hand, these ones were silent in solidarity.

"Oh come on." Shiloh looked between the two, feeling his own throat choke up, "Don't start in on the cryin' s**t too Jamie!" it was a weak attempt at humor, but it was all Shiloh had to keep himself from tipping over the edge. Rather poetically, tiny little buds sprouted around his cheeks, clustering near the corner of his eyes. He rubbed them off pathetically, watching as the sprouts bloomed midair and then shriveled at the end of their fall. "I can't deal with both of you."

Ollie actually laughed, weak and sleepy and raw. Shiloh let go of his twin then—partially—to envelope Jamie into the fold. It was like falling through the void, having two of his most important people at either side of him. He gave them both a promising squeeze.

"C'mon. Let's do this and get the hell home." his own bed never sounded better than it did at this current moment. Letting go of both of them, he looked around the void again. There had been a knife that was being passed around, but...

He squinted. It would be easier to do it himself rather than wait their turn. Balling up his fist, he willed a nest of thorns into existence. The vines curled tightly around his fingers like makeshift knuckles, edges razor sharp. Shiloh took a deep breath.

Oliver was silent beside him, watching as Shiloh brought the thorns to his palm only to hesitate.

"I..." his gaze was indescribable, somewhat empty, a little perplexed, complex emotions running through his eyes. He exhaled before offering the barbed hand out to Jamie.

"Can you do it?" Shiloh's voice was actually a little soft as he gave a glance over to his brother, who only stared wordlessly back. "I don't... want to do it to myself"

"Shiloh..." Oliver was still sniffling, but he was quick to wipe the tears away. He didn't continue; he merely shook his head. "Never mind. I'll.... I'll go after you."

saedusk

 

[saedusk]

Jamie Delacroix

Okay, that made Jamie laugh, too. It was light and whispery, barely there, but it was a laugh that made his chest feel the slightest bit clearer. If there was one thing he had to admit, it was that Shiloh knew how to make him feel better doing nothing more than being himself. Jamie was eternally grateful for that.

Following Shiloh's lead, he wiped the tears away—even if flowers didn't quite count as tears—but that didn't change the feeling of solidarity between himself and Ollie. He held that close to his heart.

"Okay, let's do it." Eyes were intent and focused as he watched Shiloh will the thorns into existence. He shifted the stone back to one hand, awaiting his turn with the thorns, trying not to worry about the way it would probably sting. There was hesitation. There was a look in Shiloh's eyes that Jamie couldn't immediately place. And then-

"I don't... want to do it to myself."

Jamie's eyes widened, but in that moment he understood without question. He didn't want to do it to himself, he didn't want to hurt himself. It was nothing Jamie would ever ask him to do, either. He'd come so far.

"I can," he told him, free hand delicately taking hold of his wrist. Fingers slipped cautiously further up, stretching over his palm. "Okay, I'm gonna do it." And he did. It didn't feel great having to push hard enough to force the thorns through Shiloh's skin, but this is what they had to do.

His eyes didn't leave the thin line he'd created or the blood that began to seep through. "Would you... help me, too?"

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Shiloh Beaumont: up for being a principle!

Shiloh did not wince when Jamie brought the thorns down on his palm. He did the same in return. Trade for a trade. "Oliver?" he held the hand over, but his twin shook his head. Not yet.

Shiloh didn't have much time to act. Flowers were budding at his wound in a rush to heal the abrasion. Balling a fist to crush the buds out of the way, he turned to the sigil and smeared his palm down against it.

What exactly was there to think in a time like this? What was he even doing? Flying by the seat of his pants, he guessed, like always. He needed to will a purpose into effect. He needed to cast, needed to put his belief into something, needed to will his intent into reality. He thought for a moment what everyone else might be thinking about; were they the same simple goals that they had walked into here with? Fix the veil, patch the tear, heal Sunny, bring the world back to equilibrium... or did it go deeper than that? Were they constructing new rules out of the old? He thought to the description in Zac's book and looked to the tree, cold underneath his finger tips.

Magic was about belief. Magic was about intent. Magic was whatever you wanted it to be, so long as your willpower was strong enough. He wasn't the best at casting; he still struggled to focus it, like how he had learned with Heliodora to attach it to an icon. What did he want out of this? What did he want to bring to the table?

For as quickly as the seconds ticked, his mind felt like it was in slow motion. He didn't want to stifle the magic, but he didn't want to give it free reign either. He wanted something... something different with the world. He wanted a place where—his mind thought to Jamie, and then to the scene in the eighties with his counterparts—he wanted something softer. A softer world, a world that maybe wasn't as cruel. A world where people could grow and exist and—

Love, as corny as it ******** was, and it made him chuckle. Daisies bloomed at his wrists and his fingers. Dandelions crowned his temple. He looked happy in his fear and his exhaustion, because he was thinking about Jamie and he was thinking about Oliver and he was thinking about his other friends too—the very same ones that were here with him, trying to accomplish the same things, trying to fix their world. He didn't want to exist in fear anymore. He didn't want Jamie to exist in fear anymore. He knew it was impossible for them both now, but maybe it didn't have to be in the future. He wanted a place where magic could grow, could be a good thing, could help people—but that much was possible already, wasn't it? It was just that it could be abused.

Yeah, a world without boundaries was a dangerous one, but could you really restrain magic? Wasn't that what had led to the cage in the first place? He chewed on his lip, trying to ignore the hesitation. He couldn't hesitate with casting.

So he thought about Jamie again, and his warmth, and his smile. He thought about how nice it felt to have confidence in someone and trust in someone; trust, real, honest trust. He poured his heart out into the sigil like he wished he could to his friend, and hell, maybe he would after this was all said and done. He let that fluttery feeling culminate into his magic, let it flow out of his fingertips, let it become the center of his focus—and god it was so easy to focus on that and nothing else. He wanted this feeling to grow. He wanted magic to grow too, he wanted it to heal and bloom and love; he wanted it, in a completely naive sense, to be something good. He wanted those natural boundaries, but he didn't want those limitations. He wanted it to be free—or maybe he didn't, but his heart was free and light and that's what went into his image regardless.

He took all of this in the force of his will and he slammed it as hard as he could mentally manage into that glowing stone that Jamie held. Maybe that women had said it was evil, maybe Renard had said it was his life's work; either way it was powerful, and in the back of his head he knew he was doing this for Sunny too. She deserved to experience life like this. She deserved to grow.

For all his pessimism that led up to this point in his life, he wanted the world to mend. He wanted to fight for it. He would too, for himself and his friends and his brother. He wanted to make it worth fighting for.

saedusk

get gay

shibrogane

trying for principle role
4th principle: that Rock
mission statement: let magic exist with its own natural restraint, and work alongside it to make the world a better place

 

[saedusk]

Jamie Delacroix | up for principle role

Though Shiloh may not have winced, Jamie did, but only a bit. Physical pain was not something he enjoyed—who did, really—but he'd learned to endure it since they started this journey together. He'd felt more physical pain since becoming a moonwalker than he had in all his years, but he'd felt more joy since then, too. Emotionally, he was happy.

Pain, happiness, they were both things Jamie would channel into his thoughts as he prepared to cast. What exactly they were supposed to do, he didn't understand. He'd listened to Zac read instructions from the book, but it felt like something hard to fully grasp unless you were doing it.

Well, it was time to put himself out there.

From the cut across his palm, he let his blood drip onto the sigil in dainty droplets. It was like Jamie himself, outwardly delicate, but strong on the inside. In the same way, he hoped his blood would strengthen their magic.

It was the very same magic he hoped to save. Not to banish entirely when there were so many good things he was sure could come of it. When he'd first become a moonwalker, first dabbled in magic, he'd nearly labeled himself a monster. In reality, he'd started to feel that magic only strengthened his humanity and the shared humanity of each and every person here in this void. Magic was wonderment and creativity, it was learning and growing and experimenting. If that wasn't human, Jamie didn't know what was.

He pulled the stone close to his chest again, fingers splayed over its pulsing, glowing surface. Through it and into the sigil he attempted to channel his feelings. He wanted everyone to experience the humanity of growth and change and acceptance. He wanted Sunny, who he'd heard wished so intently to be human, to be able to experience those things, too.

Taking a deep breath, Jamie let those thoughts expand through his mind, empowered by the faces of family and friends, of those he well and truly cared about. Oliver, who was thrown without warning straight into the deep end, deserved to know a world where magic could be pure, where he could learn about himself without such great hardship. Shiloh, who'd been through so much more than anyone ever should, deserved to deal with the reality of his newfound role in a world where the corrupt few couldn't so easily step in to ruin the life of another.

Jamie wanted those things for them and more. Selfishly, he wanted them for himself, as well. He wanted a world where he could learn about what he'd become, learn about who he'd truly been all along. He wanted to learn to express himself and he thought, just maybe, he'd be able to do that through magic.

At some point, he'd closed his eyes, but beside him he could feel Shiloh. They were standing together as they always did. There were so many things he wanted to tell him, so many things he wanted to thank him for. He'd hold those feelings in his heart until they were done, until they were safe. For now, they stood as equals.

Melancholies

shibrogane

open to being a principle
4th - the glowing stone
mission statement - make magic a very human thing, creative and open to change and growth, but guided by humane principles

 

[prolixity]

Jordan Miller - not up for principle role

There were knots of quiet, serious discussion, and someone had come through the door and made himself part of the ritual, although it was clear that not everyone trusted him, and Jordan hung back still, troubled and uncertain. He didn't know enough about any of this to be part of this. He had fallen into it essentially by mistake, or had it been somehow purposeful, a role chosen for him that he had no awareness of? No way to tell, no signs to help him make a decision.

The sigil needed to be powered by blood, and the previous sigil had only had three participants, as he understood it. From what they'd learned in the past, the amount of power needed for this ritual was immense. Was it possible that the loop had been caused by not having enough power? He didn't know and he didn't know who would know. Maybe nobody. But it seemed logical, in the dreamlike kind of logic that seemed to work with this kind of thing.

Why was he here, why him? Surely there must be other people way more qualified to help with this. Helping with it ... he guessed he'd decided, half-consciously, to try to help, even if he didn't understand. That seemed dangerous, but it also seemed dangerous to stand back and do nothing. What if whatever small contribution he could make was the last bit of stretch necessary to reach the goal? What if his uncertainty was a problem? He couldn't be the only person struggling to be sure enough, he thought.

What did he want this to be? That was the question he had to think about. As recent as his introduction to magic had been, he didn't want the world to be without it and the possibilities it opened up, the fascinating and terrifying other places and things he was just starting to learn about. Growth and freedom, the symbols of the sigil contradicting the loop that the world was apparently stuck in. How many cycles -- it didn't really matter, not now. He was curious, but maybe he shouldn't be thinking of cycles at all right now.

Who or what should be the other focus of the sigil? The stone might be a choice that wouldn't require any person to be tied to the ritual, but maybe that was its own kind of dangerous. A person might behave erratically, but there was no guarantee that a magic stone wouldn't, and how did you even communicate with a rock? Besides, hadn't someone said that the stone was evil? It seemed like a bad idea to him, all things considered.

He moved up and offered his arm to Temperance's knife. Some people were cutting their hands, but that gesture had always seemed kind of stupid to Jordan when he'd seen it in movies or shows. What if you needed that injured hand right after you performed your blood ritual? He let his blood drip onto the sigil and did his best to concentrate on the intent behind the symbol.

shibrogane

Fourth: Sunny
Mission statement: Allow magic to grow and change, supporting and existing alongside the people who use it rather than forming or trapping them

 

[Melancholies]

Oliver Beaumont: not doing principle role x:

Oliver watched, forlornly, as his brother and Jamie went about their business with the sigil. He watched their blood pour into the veins of the earth, watched the indescribable expressions on their faces, wondered what was going through their heads. His body shivered, cold and afraid and lonesome. Where did he fit in with all of this? Did he actually?

The magic chose him.

He took a step onto the other side of Shiloh, frowning as he looked at the tree with keys for branches. "Hey," he didn't want to disturb his brother when he looked so entranced, but he did so anyway. Shiloh didn't speak, but he understood regardless, and he held his hand out for Oliver to use.

The thorns on his hand were indeed sharp. Oliver was far too thoughtful about his hands to have them hurt; instead he nicked the top of his arm, wincing, letting the blood drip into the sigil. This is what he was supposed to do right? He didn't know anything about casting. He didn't know anything about anything. He was only contributing because it felt right—necessary—like a duty he never wanted. The thought that he could have probably stayed back and had the same impact made him nervous.

Was he really so useless?

I just want to go home, he thought, thinking about the edges of his apartment with Elliot and his cat, his sweet darling Chai—and his new cat too, and even the stupid dog they had taken from that bizarre haunted out thing. He thought about the Raider Waite campus and the familiar streets of his neighborhood and he felt an immense longing. He wanted out of here.

And it channeled. It pooled into the mark above all else; he wanted safety, protection, solace, a refuge. He wanted out of this void, God grant his ******** wish.

shibrogane

4th: glowing stone
mission statement: I Want Off Mr. Bones Wild Ride

 

[AMItotic]

Lily

There was so much happening, and all at once: discussions of what Renard did or didn't do, whether or not Shun was the right to be so aggressive, and still that undertone of casting the sigil, of setting some kind of intent for the world. Was it really so simple as the power of intent? It couldn't be, not when the others were talking in circles and Lily's head was still pounding.

But if magic was willpower and willpower was what made everything work, then couldn't it be as simple as believing it so? Intention and willpower were a significant part of her own practice--much more of her work was done in getting her students to trick their minds into believing they could master the poses than any traditional conditioning. So could they just...trick themselves into making the whole world right again? Did the universe listen on that sort of scale? It was mind-boggling to even consider.

As the others talked among themselves, Lily shuffled up beside Temperance, who seemed to be the arbiter of all things blood-magic. "So I hear you're the one to go to if I wanna be part of the blood party," she said, half-smiling the pale of her arm to the armed nurse. She was no stranger to the sight of her blood, watching with mild fascination as it dripped to the sigil below. They were supposed to charge it with thoughts, like the opening of a practice, and so Lily closed her eyes and thought about all of the things that made Ashdown her home, the places and people that had occupied her life since she'd set out on her own.

She thought of Temperance first, sweet but tired Sailor V, who had been even more tired in the timeline she'd seen. And there was Shun, her parkour buddy, and the gym where she'd practiced firsthand with Officer Smiles. She had classes to finish, a degree to earn so that Zac and Nathaniel's efforts wouldn't have been wasted, and beyond that there were the things she'd yet to do, like practice in the rain with Juniper or run away with Preacher and start an action movie franchise like they were the Rock and Vin Diesel. (Preacher had to be Dwayne Johnson in this metaphor--Lily couldn't do that thing with her eyebrows.) She missed Nasir, and she missed Gloom, and then she imagined a scenario with her and Nasir and Gloom having a great time in the otherworld and promptly decided that this was the best idea ever, and put it away on her mental checklist of things to definitely make happen later.

And then Lily remembered the otherworld, Dee, the Faceless, and everything else she'd seen, and her expression melted to something uncomfortable and less certain. The only thought she spared for the place where it rained was that it needed to chill the ******** out.

Lily centered herself and focused, and when she felt for her sense of self she found Pack, her Jamie and Eve and everyone in Ashdown who had been touched by the call of the moon. She recited their names in her mind like a prayer, only to choke when she reached Ashton. They counted as pack, right? But were they...family? Were they even friends anymore? Lily wasn't sure of her footing on the subject, and her thoughts started to spiral away, her pulse rising as she began to fluster--

--and then she breathed in, forced herself to find stillness and peace of mind. There were other times to think about it. She was in the here and now and needed to focus.

Lily thought of the pillars of her world, what she needed it to be and do. For the Mind she thought of Zac, his inspiring wisdom and his depth of knowledge. For the Body she thought of Shun, quick reflexes and power and law and danger all in the same frowny officer. And for the Spirit, she ended where she began, with Temperance, the healer and guardian. And the magic was Sunny and Sunny was magic so she thought of her too, as unbroken as she cared to be, mysterious but benevolent so that whoever sought out the witch on the beach might come back with a good fortune in exchange for a couple of smokes.

She rubbed at her arm and opened her eyes, sealing her intent with a breath.

shibrotrain

Trying for principle because why not
Intent: What if we were all just really chill with our magic and got along
Principle Votes: Zac - Mind, Shun - Body, Temperance - Spirit
Fourth: Sunny

 

[shibrogane]

THE FINAL VOTES/PRINCIPAL ELIGIBILITIES

endejester

principal candidate
Growth, Control, and freedom, to constrain the magic lest it corrupt, but to let it grow, change, shelter and perhaps heal.

The Semblance of Unity

temperance: principal candidate
Fix the damages that were done and encourage healthy growth and the realization of possibilities.
Preacher: principal candidate
Repair the damage done and allow Sunny to live as she should.

quite uneventful

principal candidate

chiickadee

principal ******** you, Renard, not contributing my a**

prolixity

Allow magic to grow and change, supporting and existing alongside the people who use it rather than forming or trapping them

blade kuroda

principal candidate
To bring balance back to the world, to seal the tears in the very fabric of reality. To allow life and magic to grow, but hopefully not uncontrollably. Freedom and restraint in extremes wasn't good. Order and chaos both had their place in the world.

cibarium

Leila: principal candidate
Reconciliation and growth, then freedom: Allow magic to develop naturally and benignly alongside those who may use it.
Eve:
restricting her (and magic) the same way one would a developing teenager, with the expectation both could grow and develop into full autonomy after recovering from the damages of the past

lizbot

principal candidate
Growth, guidance, freedom : to allow magic to more naturally be part of this world.

daekie

alexis:
principal candidate
mission statement is: Growth, control, and freedom, to constrain the magic lest it corrupt, but to let it grow, change, shelter and perhaps heal.

kolina

Principal candidate

micillia

kitsuneaura

iStoleYurVamps

Allow all of Ashdown's residents independence and freedom from the controlling influences of others, to let the magic be as it should be and grant them the opportunities for change and progress

Melancholies

Shiloh: principal
let magic exist with its own natural restraint, and work alongside it to make the world a better place
Oliver: no
I Want Off Mr. Bones Wild Ride

saedusk

u has glowy powerstone
Jamie: principal candidate
make magic a very human thing, creative and open to change and growth, but guided by humane principles

Smerdle

Chester:
not really a mission statement but hey: the wish for a home to return to

AMItotic

Principal
What if we were all just really chill with our magic and got along