Happy Halloween Everyone!

[threehundredyears]

I don't think I need to make a reminder for virgins not to light any black flame candles.

I would hope they'd all know better by now.









...Then again...

Comments

apparently so

[threehundredyears]

[He contently nudges his head against her hand.]

It's been done already. My mundane just enjoys messing around with timelines.

...What is a squib?

[eviscerated]

Sounds like mine.

[She has a fine lap, if he would like to be held. He would be welcome. She offers more affection to the nudging, stroking all the way down his back to start again.]

Someone born without magic, to magical parents. Perhaps we come from different universes, if the word is unfamiliar?

[threehundredyears]

[Well if she insists...

He'll settle down in her lap nicely.]

I've never heard of a witch with a child of their own. They aren't overly fond of them...save for use in their spells.

[eviscerated]

Hm. Definitely a different universe. Hello, Thackery.

[The last bit in response to the settling. She keeps stroking him. Cats are quite tactile, even if they were once human. Perhaps especially? Hm.]

Well. I'm certain some of them would have no qualms about such things. But it is thankfully not universal. Oh, dear. I believe I've punned. Terrible habit; my apologies. [With a wink, apparently looking to make him laugh.]

[threehundredyears]

[He does in fact chuckle softly. It's a rarity for him.]

It's quite alright.

So witches...are not all bad where you are from?

[eviscerated]

[Smiles at him again. A little conspiratorial lean in, as though sharing the joke.]

No. I cannot call myself a fan, but there are good ones. Bad ones. Human ones, like any other group of people in the world. Magic provides a new set of problems, but no new sets of corruption.

What makes them all nefarious in your world? Is magic not in-born?

[threehundredyears]

No. [His voice grows more serious.]

Witches make a deal with the devil for their unholy powers.

[eviscerated]

[She wants to make a joke about that explaining a great deal about her great-aunt, but the tone stops her. She strokes him slowly.]

Legend on our world. Reality on yours.

I am sorry they hurt you. [At the very least, she might sound like she can understand.]

[threehundredyears]

Don't be sorry for me. It was my sister whose life they stole.

[eviscerated]

Then I regret for you. And for her.

[Offering a reverent pet, this time. Indeed, motherly hands and manner, even though she looks very young.]

Did you find justice, dear?

[threehundredyears]

I did, after many years. Thanks to some friends the witches were finally defeated.

[eviscerated]

I'm very glad.

[Down to a whisper, that. And then she falls to simply petting him, slowly, rhythmically.]

[threehundredyears]

[He's quiet for a while as he sits still in her lap.]

...Thank you, Myra.

[eviscerated]

The pleasure is mine, Thackery.

[Still soft. She moves to give him a tiny stroke of the chin, if she's permitted. Affection, purely.]

Affection for a brother, from a sister, hm?

[threehundredyears]

[He does not object.]

You have a sibling?

[eviscerated]

My brother. Renfield. I had elder brothers, but.

[A small shrug, before she's back to stroking him again.]

What was your sister's name, if I may?