Deer Country Logs

Character Name: Tara Maclay

Who: Tara and OTA
What: Catch-All, Dealing with
When: July
Where: Around

Gimmie that Old School Magic

[Corruption wasn't exactly good to have if someone was trying to heal others of corruption. Her ambivalence to her state, the voice in the back of her mind telling Tara to stay as she was, was enough of a sign that she should do something. Between the lack of sleep, the dizziness, and the need to feed from the energy of others, it was hard to get much done but remain stuck in the constant state of corruption.

So basic methods that she used on others was the best option.

Meditation and sharing energy would only encourage her to feed, so that was out. The herbs didn't really have an effect, that left crystals.

Being in front of the sapling left Tara uncomfortable, but given what was needed, she had little choice. Meditating beside it, she did her best to create roots for herself through energy, feeding on the earth and channeling it into the crystal. For a time, it seemed to work, but just as the quartz turned from white to gray to near black, it shattered in her hands, almost hitting her face and eyes.]

Oh no.

Who: Waver Velvet + CR. HMU if you want to plot!
What: Study Sessions!
When: Throughout August
Where: Primarily at the apartment in Cellar Door, but other locations included
Content Warnings: ...Mercymorn mentions inside.

"I'm only human after all..."

--He was late getting home.

Even between the flooding in the streets and the repeated trials of the Pthumerians, Waver Velvet-- Lord El Melloi II-- was rarely actually late. He had surmounted that fear a decade ago. And yet--

There he stumbled in, his clothes a sodden mess, his long hair in tangles, and a look of utter disgust darkening his green eyes as he clicked the door closed behind him and his Omen. His shirt sleeves were cuffed around the elbows, but the wrinkled expanse of the cloth was untucked and partly unbuttoned... clearly for no pleasurable reason.

Gray the cat intertwined herself around his ankles and sat on his feet, fur bristling while he grumbled and dug out a cigarette. No lighter was found, but a quick burst of mana from his fingertips cleared that problem in what was a small blessing. The smoke stung his nostrils and lungs as he took a drag, but that itself was an odd comfort-- a familiarity.

He didn't like smoking in the house, but Desperate Times...

"Sorry for not checking in, Iskandar." He called quickly, heedless of even the possibility of guests.

"I got held up with something personal--"

--It was only then that he took in the interior of the living room... and the people inside.