Impractical Magic [Closed] - Printable Version

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Impractical Magic [Closed] - megs - 11-18-2018

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RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - saronym - 11-18-2018

Nicholas Hart couldn’t believe he was making his first house call. His feelings on the milestone were a mixed bag. On the one hand, he felt a bit festive about his first house call. Something to celebrate. Something to commemorate. On the other hand, he felt a sting of anxiety, maybe a bit of that sinking feeling of guilt, as well.

Was he competent?

Should he have cleared it with someone first? One of his professors? His Aunt Darcias? His mother?

He wasn’t terribly worried about it. He wasn’t treating any serious ailments. He’d been called on to deal with what seemed to him to be a minor haunting in the beachside cottage used as a vacation rental on Air BnB. The owner had noticed a string of reviews describing creepy events in the house as well as vague constitutional symptoms from her renters. Nic had read some of the reviews. Creepy sounds, knocks, whispers, banging noises, headaches, nausea, vomiting, disorientation, sleep walking.

Rather run of the mill haunting. It was a housecall, because he was treating a house. He chuckled to himself. Clever.

He did wonder why in the world the woman had contacted him to take care of the problem. She had explained that a downturn in business from her poor reviews left her without enough cash to pay a solo practitioner so she sought the pro bono services of a student at the magical college. She said he of all people had been highly recommended. Nic wouldn’t argue with a boost to his ego.

Of course he could deal with a minor haunting.

He’d done it before at one of his own rental properties. Got the thing for a steal expressly because it was haunted. And now it wasn’t thanks to him and he enjoyed an influx of cash every month from his tenant.

Of course he could deal with a minor haunting, he reminded himself.

Nic parked some distance away from the home he’d been called to. He wanted the time to walk, smell the salt air, and think. It had rained recently. The ground was damp and the sea air felt cool but thick from humidity. Nic went through the things he had brought with him in the leather satchel that bumped against his hip. He wondered, briefly, if he’d overdressed in a full suit. He wanted to make a good impression.

Approaching the cottage, he pushed open the wooden gate that looked worse for wear and walked carefully along the dilapidated stone path that led to the house. The stones were mostly covered in a slimy green film from the near constant wet conditions by the beach. The yard was generally overgrown but someone had taken the care to keep the stone path clear. He wondered just how long it had been since she had a vacation renter.

It looked rather abandoned.

He raised his hand to knock on the door anyway but it was jerked open before he made even a sound. A tentative and very petite woman with grey hair and deep wrinkles opened the door. Nicholas tried to keep his surprise in check. He wasn’t expecting an elderly human.

“Hello, Ms. O’Hare.” He said pleasantly. “I’m Nicholas –”

“Hart. Yes,” she cut him off and waved him in with fingers so gnarled and twisted with age they made the young Nic stare. He hadn’t much experienced the ravages of age. Really, he had taken efforts to avoid encountering it. “I know who you are.” She said rather ominously. “Prince Nicholas Owen Hart, First of his Name, Echo of the King, Imperial Mage.”

Nicholas felt somewhat rattled and a little spooked by the recitation of his titles in the way she did it. Like it was delicious to say to her. “Yes ma’am. Please, feel free to call me Nicholas,” He said, trying to stay pleasant in the face of her odd way of being. “So… the house?”

She touched his forearm with her spindly fingers, guiding him to come inside.

Nic hesitated before allowing himself to be pulled into the room. He freed his arm from her grasp and turned to place his bag on the arm chair she had in the living room. “I brought some—” He gasped when he felt the spell hit him and whirled around in surprise. He raised his hands to defend himself but it was too late. She had bound him. He watched the silvery bindings wrapping around his arms trapping them to his sides. “What is–! Ms. O’Hare I need you to release me if you want me to help you with your house.” He said trying to remain calm.

“Pease, call me Auntie.” She said producing a very sharp looking knife from her stained moo moo. “I’m your Great Aunt, Nicholas. Your grandmother’s sister on your father’s side.”

Nic was not amused or interested in whatever claim she would make of him. “This is hardly any way to treat family.” He said channeling his haughty royal training.

“Tell that to your grandmother!” She snapped, voice shrieking.

“She’s dead!”

“Exactly. And I need your blood to break the curse she left me with when she died. Aging endlessly until the end of time.” She was advancing at him with the knife.

Nic squirmed against the magical bindings but she’d caught him completely off guard. “There are a lot of people who have the same blood as me.” He complained rather stupidly to stall before he yelled, “Teagan!” He knew his guard had followed him and kept her distance but she should have been near enough to hear him crying for help. She was probably lurking somewhere outside.

“Yes, but you were the easiest to trick.” She said wounding his pride. He watched her twisted fingers work, her mouth whispered something and he was knocked out cold mid-call for Teagan.

When Nic came to he was lying on wood floor in the living room. He could feel hot blood running down his forearm. He still couldn’t move. He glanced around and spied Teagan crumpled against the wall. His breath caught and he studied her for a moment deciding with relief she wasn’t dead. He could see her chest rise and fall with breath. There was nothing he could do but the one thing he had been practicing in self-study but was still shit at.

He closed his eyes and slipped into a meditative state probing for a mind to slip into. He’d only walked into his father’s dream once. Broke in, really. A little too violently. Had startled the fuck out of his dad. Had given poor dad night terrors for a week straight.

His mother’s mind was a mine field with a demon lurking in her subconscious. He’d probed at her once and felt the demonic presence and got the fuck right out again. He wasn’t sure she ever noticed but she had looked at him funny the next time she saw him.

His sibings were largely useless. He wouldn't even bother looking for them. Ethan would probably be the most useful in this situation, but he wasn't even on the island.

He'd never been even able to locate his Aunt Darcias' mind. He wondered if it even existed in a way that he could comprehend.

Once he'd gotten ra bold and tried to probe his uncle's mind. Elliot appeared to him and said "Nicholas, go to bed." His command had been a spell as it sent Nic right of meditation and made him sit up straight in his bed, so terrified that he never dared try again. He could perhaps reach out to Uncle Eli as a last resort. It was a long shot.

He expanded his search for a mind he could use. A friend. Teacher. Anyone.

Oh fuck. Not you.

Charity fucking Duquesne, the know-it-all thorn in his side at school was presently having a dream... about him! Her mind was already primed to welcome him. His presence was basically already there. All he had to do was slip in.

Fuck it, he thought as he probed into the world her sleeping mind painted. He was terrible at it even with a welcoming dream. He felt fuzzy and the world seemed blurry. The voices sounded like they were underwater. Try as he might to figure out the subject of his role in her dream, Nic couldn’t make anything any clearer. The storyline she painted with him would remain a mystery. Did she dream about him often? Maybe if he had more time he could have made a better connection. He felt as if they were at school. There were others around them. Maybe the library?

Focus Nicholas, he reminded himself. It was hard, he wasn't really even in his own head. Or was he? He didn't understand the theory of it all.

CHARITY. He screamed at her with his mind. CHARITY. HELP. ME.

With effort her figure went clear. The curvy blonde in a scandalously low cut polka dot wraptop cocked her head questioningly at him. Her red painted lips parted in confusion. Ears perked to attention. She seemed puzzled but attentive. The world around her blurred until it was just them. Nic wondered if the way she looked was his conjuration or hers. He had no idea what he was doing.

I’m bleeding out at the Driftwood Cottage, it’s on Google maps. Do you hear me? There’s a batshit crazy witch here. I --- he had enough ego to hesitate before saying ---need you to come help me.

She was giggling at him for some reason, biting one shiny pink nail and twisting back and forth rather child-like. He couldn’t imagine what could be so amusing. He wondered if he’d made her go cooky.

You really shouldn’t play around in people’s minds.


RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - megs - 11-21-2018


Charity woke with a start; whole body jerking as hazel eyes snapped open, searching wildly in the dark. She was drenched in a cold sweat and her was heart racing. Sitting up in bed, her ears pinned backwards as she recalled the dream she had been having. Trying to remember details left fuzzy by...well, by what she didn’t know. She usually had no problem remembering her dreams, but this one was all messed up. One moment she’d been in the library at school, enjoying a battle of wits with the handsome, but obnoxious, Nicholas Hart; her academic rival. The next moment, she felt like she was being pushed and pulled between the library, and a secondary location she didn’t recognize.

In this dream, Nic had started yelling at her. Which he never did. The stately prince was a master of keeping his cool in all situations. What had he been saying? Something about bleeding? Something about...a cottage?

Something Cottage…

Whatever! Did it really matter? Charity rolled over and pulled the covers up to her chin. Ears perked to attention as she glanced at the illuminated clock on her wall. It was the middle of the goddamn night, and all she had to go on was the fading details of a weird dream and the vague feeling of something bad happening. She still had a few more hours of sleep ahead of her. Nicholas’ request for help still echoed in her mind, but if anything, that only solidified that it was definitely a dream.

After twenty minutes of staring at the decorated wall across from her, she kicked her blankets off with a a huff and retrieved her phone from the bedside table. She searched locally for the closest match she could find with what little she remembered. Driftwood Cottage. Sure, that sounded good enough. Charity got out of bed. Mumbling to herself about how she was being stupid, and if she wasn’t she was going to kick Nicholas’ ass. She pulled on black lycra leggings and shrugged into an equally dark hoodie.

Fifteen minutes later, she was idling outside of the address where Nic supposedly was. She leaned against the steering wheel. She didn’t see Nic. She didn’t see that blonde woman that was always with him. She didn’t even see his car. What a waste of her night. Just as Charity was about to pull away, she noticed something. A shift in the sea breeze, pushed the front door wide as if it had been left open.

Well, then.

Turning off the car, freed up her hands to work a protection spell over herself before she got out of the car and looked around for signs of anything else suspicious as she trotted up to the supposed rental property. Stepping through the front door, feline eyes easily adjusted to the darkness. Catching reflections that bounced off street lights outside. “Nicholas?” she hiss quietly. Her blonde tail had fluffed up to about twice its normal size, as it twitched back and forth behind her knees. She tiptoed quietly from the foyer towards was seemed to be a sort of parlor. She could feel the magic in that direction. The fading energies of a spell that had been concluded, and one that was still in effect.

Charity held her breath as she peeked, timidly, around the corner and noticed two bodies. One figure was slumped against the wall, and the other was prone in the middle of the room, trapped in the remains of a casting circle. A few candles still flickered, casting light over some of Nichola’s more recognizable tattoos. Cursing in Veridian, Charity darted forward. She kicked at the ashes, scattering them and breaking the circle. There he was, just like he’d told her in her dream. Bound, and bleeding out in some dingy cottage. “You idiot!” She scolded, even though she wasn’t sure if he was conscious. Fingers danced in complicated patterns as she muttered another spell, this one would break the magical bindings he’d been saddled with, the silver rings seemed to slither off of him like snakes. With a snap of her fingers the lights in the room illuminated the space in full. Dropping to her knees, she leaned over him and shook his shoulders, with both hands.

“Wake up, you absolute dolt, before you bleed to death.”

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - saronym - 11-22-2018

Nicholas, having sought his uncle as a last ditch effort had found himself standing before a gleaming obsidian formation. Uncle? It was mesmerizing. When he reached out to touch it, it rippled and came away onto his fingers like oil. Well, everything was kind of billowing now. Nic looked down at himself as his body rippled like smooth water someone had thrown a stone into.

Somewhere, someone was calling him an idiot. He was pretty sure.

Nic's yes popped open and his whole upper body jerked upright with a gasp. It was so bright where he was. He felt like his eyes were nothing but pupils. He pushed away the hands that shook at him and shaded his eyes from the light. His head felt full of thick fog. He made a hard fist and a few bulbs in the room went out with delicate bursts.

A bit dramatic but that was better.

He dropped his hands as his eyes adjusted to the lower light and was met with the pretty face of one of his schoolmates bending over him.

“Charity.” He heard himself saying to the slightly worried looking and slightly annoying looking face. “You heard me.” It was a question more than a statement. Just what had he done anyway? He felt himself rubbing his fingers together. Slick with something like oil. He glanced down. Blood. A lot of it.

Reality clicking together, Nicholas made a motion over the deep cut on his arm like he was zipping up the wound. His skin bound together stopping the bleeding. “I suppose she got what she needed. Even left some for me. How generous.” He remarked to himself bitterly as he cleaned the wet blood from his arm with another spell. His clean hand hovered over the bloody one. The blood was sucked off gathering in a spinning sanguine orb until his arm was clean. He tossed the orb of blood away with a splatter on the rug. It was already ruined with ash and blood.

He tsked at his shirt. Sliced right up the sleeve. He turned his arm over to look at the wound he'd closed. A perfect thin surgical looking line interrupted the colorful tattoos on his arm. Like someone had taken a tiny eraser to his arm. He tsked again. Another fill job.

“Now for Teagan.” He glanced at Charity. “You're okay?” He gave her a once over with his eyes. Her blonde hair was tousled from sleep. She looked rather put out but altogether whole and unharmed. He could sense the residue of a protection ward over her. Smart.

He turned his attention to Teagan. He stood somewhat shakily and crossed the room. “Teagan!” He knelt down to pat her cheek to see if she'd rouse. She was still limp. He hovered his hand over her moving from her chest to her head sensing the source of her unconsciousness. Put under by the witch. Nic then went to work unwinding the spell that bound Teagan's consciousness. His hands worked as if untying an intricate knot.

While Teagan was coming to Nic fell back on his bottom with a sigh. He felt drained. His pride was mortally wounded. How could he be so stupid? So arrogant? "What a freak show.” He muttered then looked to Charity. “Thanks for coming. I owe ya’ one.”

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - megs - 11-23-2018

With a gasp of surprise, Charity sat back on her heels, as to not butt heads with Nicholas when he shot straight upwards. Her tail, still huge and fluffy, swayed to and fro behind her. Her ears were a flat plane off either side of her head, nestled in blonde curls. Something close to relief washed over her features. Not because she felt any particular affection for her classmate, but because it would be pretty awkward to explain how she’d discovered a dead prince.

The crackle of bursting bulbs didn’t rattle her, accustomed to the such casual uses of magic from her time at school. Relief gave way to the annoyance he was more familiar with. “I guess so.” Her gaze dropped to watch him work on his injuries, ears springing upwards in awe at the ease with which he demonstrated his skill in healing magic.

Ears twitched, barely registering what he was mumbling to himself. “Who did?” She questioned, pushing herself to standing and surveying the space of the room. Her brow pinched together as he didn’t immediately answer her, instead made motions to go to see his guardswoman. “She must have been pretty skilled to take you both out.” Charity pressed her palms together against her chest, before making a steeple with her fingertips and pushing her hands outward. Uttering a fairly common spell that granted truesight, her fingers wove to form a rectangular shape which she held over one eye. “That or she was pretty desperate.”

It was like looking at the room through a piece of colored glass. Or under a black light. The residual traces of magic hung in the air and cling to surfaces like detritus. With her enhanced vision, she could see the discarded bindings she’d broken off of Nicholas. Turning at the waist, she could see the knot Nicholas was fiddling with to rouse Teagan like it were truly a physical thing.

Teagan was recovering quickly, having been specially trained to handle magical attacks like the one she had suffered. Soon after regaining consciousness she was leaning over the weakened prince and taking inventory of his well being. With irritated confirmation that he was fine, the guard left to check the perimeter of the residence.

This place is just ruined with magical rubbish,” she complained. “Desperate and unkempt.” This time is was Charity who tsked. Separating her fingers broke the spell, her vision returned to normal and she crossed her arms. “No problem.” Her tone implied it had most certainly been an imposition, and it what he “owed” her would certainly be collected at some point.

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - saronym - 11-23-2018

After reviving his guard woman, Nicholas tolerated her fussing over him for a few moments before waving her off with a word that he was fine. Teagan soon excused herself eager to begin an investigation. Nic watched Charity finish her magic forensic evaluation of the scene, he could imagine what she was seeing.

“My great aunt apparently.” Nicholas said with an annoyed sigh as if what had happened to him was no more than an inconvenience. His pride had a vested interest in playing off the incident as nothing. “My grandmother was a firebrand, so I've heard. Apparently, she cursed her own sister.” He rolled his eyes and labored back to his feet. The effect of blood loss and magic use had left him feeling faint. He touched his temple and leaned against the wall for support while his vision cleared after standing up. The blood loss. He had something for that at home.

“And now she's uncursed. So I'm sure she's on her way back to Eskra.” He tried to lay a charming smile on Charity but felt too drained to make it believable.

“Since you're here, you could give me a lift home on your way back to town?" His question was less a question and more a demand or an expectation. How could she say no? "Your car will be fine. I'll have Teagan take mine back when she's finished here.”

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - megs - 11-27-2018

Blonde brows disappeared beneath fluffy bangs as Nicholas explained what he knew of the situation. She pursed her lips at him. "Wonder what you have to do to get cursed by your own sister," she mused, looking back down at the magic circle she had broken to free Nicholas. Charity, being an only child, truly was curious as to what kind of lines you would have to cross to find yourself on the opposite end of being cursed by a sibling.

Nicholas was standing. Instinctually, Charity moved closer to assist him. No doubt whatever ritual had been performed and his own use of magic had weakened him, but she stopped short of reaching, ears falling off of her head. He probably didn't want her help; prideful men like Nicholas rarely did.

If she was affected by that flash of teeth that was an attempt to be charming she didn't show it. "You think she went all the way back to Eskra already?" Her tail swayed behind her head. "Seems like an awful lot of effort to track you down. "Maybe you should tell your parents what happened."

Charity's ears popped upwards again when he asked her for a ride in such a way that it sounded like it would be a privilege for her to escort him all the way home. Or at least, that was how she heard it, and was how she judged most of her interactions with Nic, based on his princely status. "You live across town from me," she complained, tail twitching. "But fine. I want to go, these place is giving me the creeps."

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - saronym - 11-27-2018

“In my family, probably not much.” Nicholas breathed without much sarcasm in response to Charity's open ended musing as to how one could end up cursed by a sibling. Very easily, really. Didn't she know the pure rage of sibling rivalry?

Nic was quite aware of the rush Charity had been in to assist him when he stood up. She was right to back off. It would have bruised his already battered pride. As it stood, he had already accepted too much help from her in his estimation. He did his best to hide how weak he really felt putting on his usual haughty expression.

“My parents have enough to worry about.” He dismissed of her suggestion to inform them. Indeed, his parents seemed to play a cosmic game of whack-a-mole. As soon as one problem was solved, yet another always cropped up. Nic didn't want to tell his parents for other reasons. Namely, he did not want to gey into a discussion with his mother about his use of magic, his arrogance, his carelessness. He could hear her now. And his father's chorus of “mhmm” to his mother's lecture.

No, he didn't really want to tell them at all.

Nic had picked up on her bit of offense but chose to ignore it. He wasn't ordering her around. She could very well refuse if she didn't want to take him.

“You can stay at my place then. It's late. No point in driving back across town. I have a guest suite. I make pretty good french toast.” He crossed the room, carefully stepping over the ashes, to retrieve his bag. He wasn't sure why he was going to lengths to convince her that staying with him wouldn't be so bad. He didn't know if they could get along for any period of time without ending up dueling or something.

He rejoined Charity, coming to a stop next to her. He gestured with his hand for her to lead. “Let’s get out of here.” He agreed. The place was creepy. It grated on his already shot nerves. He was already doing his best to keep it together after a near death experience

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - megs - 12-03-2018

Charity opened her mouth as if she would protest, but it snapped closed again with an audible click of her teeth. He'd contradicted nearly everything she had said. Shooting down her suggestions, and coming up with his own solutions to any of her concerns. Nicholas seemed to think he had the whole matter figured out, inviting her to stay at his home with the enticing notion of French toast. Lips parted again, but the blonde only scoffed. She couldn't seem to think of anything else to say to him in that moment. She would blame it on the late hour and the venue, and the utter disbelief that Nicholas could try to be so in control of a situation he had had absolutely no control over mere minutes before.

Ears fell flat as she moved away from him. She still didn't offer to help him. According to his ego he was just fine, that was just fine with her.

When he joined her in her car, a silver Jetta, she still didn't say anything. Their ride would have been silent if she hadn't had Chopin drifting quietly from the radio.

Charity didn't need to ask where Nic lived. Almost everyone knew, from his hosting of many parties. Which didn't seem entirely safe for a prince, but who was she to tell a prince what to do. She could hardly rescue one with him getting sassy with her. "Here we are, your Highness," she announced in a teasing tone as she parked in his driveway. Hazel eyes rolled upwards to take in the home. Her eyes dropped again and she turned her head to where Nic was sitting next to her. "Are you sure you're okay? We don't really know what that witch did to you."

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - saronym - 12-04-2018

Nic was unperturbed by Charity's obvious displeasure with his arguments against her suggestions. What was curious to him was why she seemed to take it so personally.

He felt his fatigue more readily when he sunk into the passenger's seat. He was content to ride silently in the car listening to the dreamy song that played through the car's stereo. He watched the darkened streets pass by the window and may have briefly dozed. He wasn't sure. His mind drifted.

The cessation of the car's motion and Charity's sassy remark brought him back to himself. He gave her a quick glare for the mocking title she used. He noticed the line of her eyes evaluating his home.

Judging it.

Yes, he was a Prince. Yes, his modern coastal style home was a bit chic for a man his age.

“Yes, I'm alright.” He reassured her. Though, she did have a point. He pursed his lips as if considering it. Releasing the seatbelt, he popped open the passenger's door. “I know a way we could find out if you think you can stomach it.” He suggested with some mystery as he took the walk up to his home leaving her to follow him.

The entry was keyless. He typed a passcode into a keypad and pressed his index finger into a scanner. Modern security features. His father's touches to the royal lifestyle.

“You're not scared of dogs are you?” He asked as a concerned aside as the mechanical lock clicked and released. Nicholas pushed the double front doors open revealing the airy open floor plan. The inside of his home had an aromatic almost spicy scent reminiscent of sandalwood.

An alarm chirped and he typed yet another code to turn it off. Scampering footsteps on shining wood flooring and a wiggling furry body greeted them at the door. The little dog's barks were almost like chirps.

“Hey Beatrice.” Nicholas cooed at the dog as she jumped at his legs and gave him a thorough sniffing. “Do you smell that nasty old witch?” He picked the dog up and cradled her in his arms like a baby.

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - megs - 12-10-2018

As Nicholas got out of her vehicle with his vaguely ominous commentary, she made a face at the back of his head. Scrunching up her nose as her ears went limp. He was so cocky, and kind of a tease in a weird way. Obviously, whatever trick he had up his sleeve was magical, and he knew she would want to see it. So, she got out of the car as well, trailing behind him while trying to not look eager about whatever strange ritual he was going to rope her into.

"Dogs?" Her ears perked upwards, tail fluffing out slightly. Incongruous with her answers of, "no, not really." Her sneakers squeaked on the chic tile as she followed him inside the home. If he'd thought her bland observation of the outside was judgemental, her really wouldn't care for the way she looked around the interior. Her ears twitched as she craned her neck this way and that to take in what she could see from the foyer. It was the smallest of smirks that curled at one corner of her lips that gave her away. She'd never been inside the house of royalty before. Even if it wasn't exactly the Cheredon Estate, where his family lived while in Macrilan.

"I thought you said you had a dog," was her only commentary, hazel eyes tracking the small, cantering thing that joined them at the entrance. The creature went all but limp in Nic's arms, splaying her limbs and opening up her soft belly for generous attention. "That looks like a teddy bear you enchanted."

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - saronym - 12-10-2018

If Nicholas saw any judgment on her features as she gazed around the entrance of his home, Nic showed no sign that it affected him. He narrowed his eyes and scoffed at her through his nose in a way that was so feline. It seriously reminded him of some comment his father had made about his choice in dog many times.

“You've already made me regret inviting you in.” He retorted turning with his dog still in his arms. He rubbed at her warm, soft tummy as he led the way to the kitchen.

“I'm going to take something for my blood loss situation and then we'll get to your concerns." The word was extra heavy with sarcasm.

He bent down and let Beatrice roll out of his arms. Her claws clicked on the kitchen floor. He fetched a bone-shaped treat from a decorative container on his counter and shoved it into Charity's hands. “Here make friends.”

Nicholas delegated a small and hopefully amusing task to his guest while he saw to his remedy. "I appreciate your interest in my well-being.” He said while rummaging loudly around in his fridge. Glass and other wares clinking their protest. He retrieved a mason jar with a substance of questionable viscosity.

“I’m rather impressed you showed up tonight?” He continued, retrieving now a tablespoon to measure out a scoop of the leaky jelly like substance. “I mean I did dreamwalk to call on you.” A quick humble brag while he assessed his increasingly disgusting looking medicine with a child-like frown.

“But still - you were already dreaming of me.” His frown faded into a smirk with one eyebrow creeping towards his hairline. The spitting image of his father.

“I'm flattered. I just didn't know you -” he stopped mid sentence to down his serving and immediately cringed, dropping the spoon with a clatter into the sink.

“Okay - that's horrible.” He complained as he screwed the lid back on. “My crazy dead grandmother's recipe.” He explained as if that explained anything. The effect was immediate, sweeping away the feeling of fatigue and weakness.

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - megs - 01-06-2019

Charity's expression soured as Nicolas turned to face her, dog still in hand. It was not that she had any distaste for the creature, it was nothing to do with that at all. It was the way Nic kept making it seem like she was the only one worried about the situation, and like it was silly for her to do so. Perhaps, she should just leave him to his own devices, and whatever happened to him, happened to him.

What did it matter to her either way?

Unfortunately, curiosity always got the best of her and she wanted to stick around and see what happened. Not to mention she had been contemplating her options for too long, and her reverie was broken by something being pushed into her palm. She looked down at the treat, shaped like a cartoon bone and some sort of orange, maybe brown color. It was so impossibly tiny, that she almost laughed at it. Her amusement came only as a scoff of a noise, originating at the back of her throat; her tail swaying back and forth as she bent to give tiny Beatrice a tiny treat.

She was only half listening to Nicholas now as he spoke to her from the kitchen. His voice echoed through the open floor plan, but she was too busy now, petting Beatrice's surprisingly soft and coily fur to have any interest in what he was saying. Her ears twitched as they picked up the sound of his smug tone. He continued to talking, so Charity decided to join him in the kitchen.

"Well, I almost didn't," she admitted in the face of his surprise at her appearance. Hazel eyes rolled almost all the way back into her head as he mentioned his attempt at dream-walking. "I wasn't sure if it was just a strange part of my dreams or not. I couldn't shake the feeling of something being wrong so I decided to check it out."

Charity watched as his expression changed. The smirk and that brow. Confusion contorted her own features. The corners of her mouth curving slightly downward. Her brown pinched in the middle. "Yes, I dream of you," she revealed, rather matter-of-fact, and nonchalantly. Clearly unperturbed by the admittance. As if the idea of him appearing her dreams was more obvious, than anything else. Her cream colored ears had fallen off either side of her head, and her matching tail was still, following the line of her legs, curled upwards slightly as to not brush the ground.

"Just didn't know I...what?" She pressed him for more explanation, as he trailed off, downing the unappetizing concoction.

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - saronym - 01-10-2019

For a moment Nic was highly focused on Charity. Listening with obvious curiosity the way she described her experience of whatever he'd done in her mind, dream, wherever. He cocked his head to the side and stared as she spoke. For whatever reason his eyes were attracted to focusing on the bursts of gold color that radiated from the pupils of her eyes. Her account left him with only more questions. Had he dreamwalked proper? Was there some kind of connection between them? A pensive grunt was the only reply commentary he provided.

Besides he was more interested, at the moment, in teasing her for dreaming of him. Even though technically it was because of the content of her dreams that he wasn't currently dead. He stubbornly shoved that dark thought--the realization he'd had a brush with death--away.

Slowly, he lowered the jar to the counter and smirked at her. A couple of steps placed him in front of her. The advantage of height made it easy to loom over her. He lifted his hand and made the action of brushing a lock of her hair back. She often wore it pushed back or to one side in a carefully sculpted wave. Her hair was wild that evening, as he had dragged her out of bed. The action of pushing the wave of hair back brought his fingers to one cream-colored ear which he dared to touch. His fingers feathered over the soft feature and down to scrape lightly over her scalp behind it. As he effectively pet her, his eyes roamed over her features. “I didn’t know you found me interesting enough to dream about.” His tone could have easily been flirting or sarcastic. His eyebrow twitched displaying his obvious amusement in toying with her.

His hand moved down his chest as he unbuttoned his shirt. “So here's the thing.” He slid the shirt off his shoulders and balled it up in his hands. “For this ritual, you're going to have to touch me.” He delivered it like that was bad news for her.

Nic knew he could fall so easily. It wouldn't be hard to develop a crush on a classic beauty with a cute nose. He moved away from her to stomp on the pedal of his stainless steel lidded trash can. He tossed in his blood stained shirt and let the lid fall back with a minor crash.

RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - megs - 01-17-2019

Nicholas was watching her some sort of... way that she couldn't describe. With a sort of feline fascination that she had never seen him employ. She didn't let it faze her, continuing with what she was saying, but he was smirking at her now, so she frowned at him. Why did he look so smug about her dreams? "I dream about a lot of people," she defended. "It's how dreams work." Nicholas was moving towards her. It made her ears stand at attention and her tail to stop swaying.

"What are you..." she didn't finish. He was towering over her now, and when he lifted his hands it effectively cut her off. The way Charity looked up at him was almost defiant, but then his hand was in her hair, and brushing her ears and the expression softened, almost involuntarily. Her instinct was to lean into his hand and the sensation of being pet, but instead her gaze fell from his and her chin turned doward until she was staring at the hollow of his throat instead.

Charity was aware the Nicholas was talking, but she almost couldn't hear him. There was some other sound drowning out his voice. A rumbling like an idling engine. She was purring. A natural, if not embarrassing reaction to his affectionate patting. "I don't find you interesting," she snapped, turning away from him in a fluid motion and pulling her head away from his hand. "It was just a dream and you're reading too much into it."

Her back was still turned to him when he began undressing. Arms crossed beneath her breasts. She wasn't aware of what he was doing until she heard the clang of the trash can. She whirled around again. She looked him up and down, lips pursed as if she was assessing him. "And why would I have to do that?" she demanded, her pale cheeks were still tinged a rosy pink from his having already touched her.