- Invitation Status
- Look for groups
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- Online Availability
- WFH so I'm flexible and around!
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
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- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Fantasy (any era; just about any style - dark, soft, low, high, etc), Supernatural, Post-Apocalyptic, Space Opera, a blend of genres
Location: Berwyn Harbor docks. | Tag: @TerraBooma 's Chance.
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The Emberstone Publishing House was familiar to magi children and their parents, even if the name quickly slipped in and out of conscious awareness. It was printed on many of the primary-level textbooks that guided young magi through the basics of magic. It wasn't an exceptionally famous publishing company, nor did it have memorable titles on its roster. It was, however, very enduring, operated by four generations of Emberstone magi and counting.
If public recollection ever briefly sparked toward which company produced the bulk of the youth magi educational materials, Emberstone might be affiliated with the west coast and maybe Hollowstead. Not Berwyn Harbor. Yet, there was an inconspicuous satellite office there on the east coast. It had unremarkable signage marking its location near the generally colorful boardwalk; blending in just enough so that that branch could go even more unnoticed than the publishing house's name tended to be on countless educational books.
It was intended to be that way, in part, for the sake of socially concealing the redhead who scuttled the sea-side of the Berwyn Harbor boardwalk that evening. She had an air of both being determined and of being lost. Looking for something.
Earlier in the day, a fellow clerk in the office had leaned toward another coworker to lazily gossip about that shady boat docked in harbor. Enough breadcrumbs of the conversation had fallen for anyone nearby to piece together the picture of a strange magic dealer passing through. Winnie had been intrigued. Maybe the answer she secretly (and desperately) needed just might be found this time. With this shady dealer.
Winifred Maelstrom Emberstone. One might expect the person to fill the shoes of such a name to be imposing in some manner, if not in size, then in magical might. Winnie almost never wore the entirety of her full name, and by all observations, she and her family were confident she had no access to magic. It was a grotesque and horrifying thing to consider - a magi without magical talent. Normal humans had gone extinct, long ago, wiped out by war and weakness. It was also an exceptionally dangerous concept.
Thus, for her safety, she'd been raised to never shed even a shimmer of light on that fact. She should also subdue her extroversion to a degree to draw less attention, just in case. Oh, and perhaps she shouldn't use the Emberstone name, just so no one would pressure her with high, magical expectations. It had nothing, nothing to do with familial shame.
At last - her gaze homed in on a boat that paled beside the more stylish yachts and sailboats docked ahead. Well, 'paled' had a sense of 'light' to it. The questionable vessel definitely screamed 'shady' - like the gossips had described! Perfect. Her nervous excitement tangibly manifested by the quickened clip of her beige ankle boots across the wooden planks.
Was she even acceptably dressed for a shady magic dealer boat shop? Or... whatever this was? It'd been such a last minute decision to investigate. Until very recently, she hadn't ever considered the possible ins and outs of the magi underworld - she was still utterly illiterate, which felt both ironic and uncomfortable.
Winnie glanced down and took a quick survey of her presentation.
Ehhhh, it'd have to be acceptable. Besides, Shady Underworld Boatman would accept her two coins, right? Or however many were required. So a cheery red skirt just beyond the knees and a cozy white cashmere sweater would JUST have to do. She tousled her fingers through the loose length of her dark auburn hair about her shoulders just the same; it'd been both out of nerves and a rationalizing thought that she should still aim to look orderly. Somehow, that'd make her look serious and professional. Or... something. She really didn't have a compass to follow for this sort of situation.
So march onward!
Winnie drew up beside the length of the dubious boat, finding her throat tighten a little at the nearing prospect to interact with whoever Shady Underworld Boatman proved to be. Be courageous. YOU'RE the customer, they should aim to please YOU! she played at the idea of confidence in her head, rounding now toward a way aboard.
She wasn't confident. She was a cat in their first pair of socks (and probably looked as out of place). But, if she was anything, Winnie was determined. This endeavor offered some slim hope to lift the blemish her very existence put upon the prestigious Emberstone name. She might get to go home one day and know a proud smile her way without the shadow of concern pulling at the corners. These final thoughts bolstered the seemingly magic-less magi onto that boat - shoulders back, jaw tight, stride proud.
"Hellooo, I'm here to make a purchase!!" She called out, dauntless! Assured! Obviously oblivious.
She barged her way in like a confident dealer in the Underworld should (right?) and searched about for whatever devil she had to make deals with. But her eyes pulled astray. She noticed little signs indicating danger this or incredibly cursed - do not touch that. A little weird, highly intriguing - easily distracting while abuzz with uncertain anxiety.
Would a cursed magical relic affected a normie? She genuinely wondered. Could there have been a singular positive element to an otherwise disastrous existence? She heard a creak - and she didn't know if it was just the shift of the lulling tide or someone approaching. Winnie straightened suddenly and tossed a blind hand to the right to catch an awkward shift in her balance.
Her palm felt something cool form beneath it. Then hot. She panicked and reeled her hand back in toward her torso, but whatever thing she'd accidentally caught to was stuck while a sickly green halo of runes slowly swirled in the air around her hand and what proved to be some sort of ugly little statue.
"Ugh...!" she garbled alarm, shaking her hand around in a futile effort to break free.
Until the luminous runes suddenly rushed inward and vanished into her skin. The statue fell free, thudding to the floorboards nearby. Not having actually expected freedom, Winnie's counterbalancing lean away from the thing now sent her toppling into a pile of other relics to the left.
Everything was fine. Perfect introduction - she surely wasn't alone now, though she lay in a dazed pile. She was just another cursed relic collected into a mess of other like objects. Completely smooth. Goddammit.
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