<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Courier;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 16pt;"><strong>S T O R Y T E L L E R</strong></span></span><hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/45/fd/83/45fd837de75c9249a1eafcd08bc314f0.jpg) </div><div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1a/4a/45/1a4a4505137f26bf4be77e9845d13ced.jpg)</div><strong>Dramatis Personae:</strong>Alethea, Alice<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>As Pictured (All)<br/><br/><br/><strong>Time:</strong><em>3:00 PM XST</em><br/><strong>Location:</strong><em></em>Triumvirat Villa, Echeveau<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Prospective Crystelia Coven Members |<br/><strong>Notes:</strong>Feel free to post the events leading up to your character’s sudden teleportation from their old lives.<br/><strong>Mood Music:</strong>Mind Conductor (https://youtu.be/ffmj8Odjgf8?t=25)<br/><hr/>One moment, their lives are going (more or less) as they intended. The young women have no clue that today will be different; no one, in the history of the multiverse, has ever suspected that any one day in particular will be different.<br/><br/>As they find their old lives displaced by something new, the women all collectively find themselves standing on soft grass growing from hard soil. It is pleasantly warm (approximately 23 celsius/ 73 fahrenheit), with a gentle western wind playing with their hair.<br/><br/>Before the women can even fully process their new surroundings, their gaze is collectively drawn to the two figures standing before them. The most obvious, front and center, of the duo is clad in dark, flowing robes, the winds seeming particularly to enjoy tangling her red-brown hair. Her eyes are occluded by a blindfold, upon which is stitched the emblem of an All-Seeing Eye; an emblem which softly shimmers with inner light and warmth. In her hands, a bundle of wands, which she cradles and holds carefully, as if this collection was more like a newborn child.<br/>“Welcome,” her words are as soft as a down-filled pillow, and as sweet as honey, “young Potentiates, and pray, be calm. I swear to you, all shall be revealed.”<br/><br/>As the blind seer gives a moment to the gathered to assess the situation, the second, still figure stirs to life, to action. As pale as fresh fallen snow, her face is adorned with dark blue paint, in spiraling patterns that feel oddly difficult to focus on; the more any one person tries to follow the spirals, the more difficult it becomes to do so. Flashes of skin, an exposed wrist here, a bit of thigh there, indicate similar tattoos; and these, too, are nigh impossible to discern; perhaps reshaping themselves in constant flux.<br/><br/>Her face is partially obscured by a veil of cloth and bones, the least impressive part of headgear that must surely be ceremonial in nature. Animal bone charms, large horns, and grim feathers adorn the headgear. The staff she wields, a dark hardwood, has various trinkets of bone, feather, clay & glass beads hanging off of it. As she moves, rhythmically tapping the staff against the ground, the various charms jingle and jangle. Her movements are surreal, like smoke in the wind.<br/><br/>Beneath the veil, a grin of too-many sharp-teeth, flashes for a mere fraction of a second. Occluded eyes sparkle and shine with mirth and mischief, as the nigh-spectral figure moves around the girls, assessing–but what, they can not tell.<br/><br/>“My name is Alice, and there are some who call me the Seer of Sagas,” The blind woman states in her soft-sweet, melodic voice, even as the specter maneuvers around. “And we have summoned you here, to our world. A world which teeters on the verge of destruction. A world in need… of heroes.”<br/><br/>“My sisters and I are no longer enough to hold back the tides of entropy and decay, the forces which would sunder our realm, and render it devoid of light, love, life, and laughter. We have summoned you here, for our magic–yes, my fledglings, magic–has found in each and every one of you the potential to shift the balance, to be the heroes our world will need. Each, and every one of you, is uniquely gifted and blessed with strong souls; souls capable of harnessing the magic that your universe no longer possesses. Under our tutelage, we will teach you to tap into the fathomless wells of inner power that reside in you.”<br/><br/>The spirit-bound woman leans in closely to Mugi’s ear, and whispers, “What sweet songs does your soul sing, precious?” in a voice that feels uncannily like spiders crawling over her.<br/><br/>“Now–” Alice begins to speak again, but she is rather rudely interrupted by a small explosion from elsewhere in the villa. A frown mars her angelic visage, “Alethea, would you please handle the rest?” Gone is the soft-sweetness, replaced by the tones of an exasperated matriarch.<br/><br/>The pallid woman moves forward, accepting the bundle of wands from Alice, as she stomps off to go deal with whatever nonsense has just ruined an otherwise beautiful introduction to their world.<br/><br/>“...I much prefer spirits to the living. Fewer words, more feeling.” Alethea exhales the words in a sigh. Off in the distance, shouting cuts off the shaman, “How did you get the labels mixed up! Again!? Aurelia…” A third voice, youthful and vibrant, vibrating with energy, shouts back “But the labels fell ooooffff!”. There is a sense that this is not the first time these two have exchanged words; nor will it be the last.<br/><br/>“...she makes the best bread. The dead love it.” Alethea remarks, to seemingly no one in particular. Then, her attention returns–more or less–to the girls. “I don’t speechify. I’ll be blunt. Who wants to do magic? Pick a wand. Let’s start with… you.” At which point, Alethea’s gaze settles onto Fennu.<br/><br/>“Do not think too much. In this, and this alone, there is no wrong choice.” Nor is there much of a choice at all. Though each wand seems more or less the same, the girl will find that one in particular just feels right. It is inexplicable; a feeling that words alone can not ever truly convey. It feels a lot like destiny.<br/><br/>And as each of the girls is called to make the choice, they find themselves subjected to the same feeling. No, not just a feeling; it’s more like knowing. They know which wand was meant for them, and as they first touch these wood-wrapped crystals, it is a lot like embracing a long lost friend for the first time in forever.<br/>