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[abbr=info && info && info]☾[/abbr]
[abbr=info && info && info]☁
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I HAVE KILLED A MAN AND ALL I KNOW
[I]"You'll be the one to save us."
He really wishes the words didn't ring in his ears so prominently. He doesn't want to be the one with such a big responsibility, although it's clear he has no choice. He was the grandson of his great grandmother from far back, who'd been a Supreme during the Erie witch trails, thus honing an ability as strong as his brothers, and nearly as strong as any living witch in his day and age. Before that knowledge, he'd barely been a whisper of anyone's thoughts. Not in his coven, and before he'd even discovered even half of his potential, not in school. Now, he was admirable to his brothers, a threat to the witches, some sort of savior of them all. Again, this happened within a three week time span.
Apparently he has to go back in time to sought out someone; the power in which she possess is quite rare in this day in modern day and during the trails in which his grandmother lived, so did she, but she'd also been one of the eight executed. "You do this, and you have proved that you are in fact the future Supreme whether me or my girls like it or not." Ophelia, the current Supreme, said. To do this, was going against his brothers' word as they wanted nothing to do with the witches. He didn't sought out the approval of Ophelia, quite frankly she terrified the piss out of him, and yet as he runs the bath water he's inquisitive. He closes the door, locking it behind him.
[b]"Where is it?" He's surprised he'd gotten his backpack into the bathroom without rising questions. It's hard to do anything when you're bombarded with ten others in your household. And no, this wasn't the Coven. This was his home. "There!" Ophelia gave it to them during their little 'brunch.' A spell and a picture of her. At the bottom was a signature. "Marcy." He murmurs, scanning it over as he approaches the running bath water.
"Why does it have to be in bath water?" He mumbles. He immerses one foot in, shuttering at the sensation of wet sweatpants against clothes. "Why does my clothes have to be on- Jesus." He had to use the 'Ripping off a bandaid'. technique. Immerse his body in the water completely before settling, into the tub. He closes his eyes, endeavoring himself in the state of mind the spell demands. He's never been good at this, as his mind wanders ubiquitously, but after a few attempts he's there. He loses all sense of his surroundings. Lights flicker and he immerses himself in the water.
He's now there, wedged between an old barn and cottage. He looks around, dumbfounded, mouth gaping as he circles the area in which Ophelia had described. "I did it..." he whispered to himself, fist pumping the air. "I did it!" Little did he know that someone would approach him in the process further proving that he needed to pay more attention of his surroundings.
He really wishes the words didn't ring in his ears so prominently. He doesn't want to be the one with such a big responsibility, although it's clear he has no choice. He was the grandson of his great grandmother from far back, who'd been a Supreme during the Erie witch trails, thus honing an ability as strong as his brothers, and nearly as strong as any living witch in his day and age. Before that knowledge, he'd barely been a whisper of anyone's thoughts. Not in his coven, and before he'd even discovered even half of his potential, not in school. Now, he was admirable to his brothers, a threat to the witches, some sort of savior of them all. Again, this happened within a three week time span.
Apparently he has to go back in time to sought out someone; the power in which she possess is quite rare in this day in modern day and during the trails in which his grandmother lived, so did she, but she'd also been one of the eight executed. "You do this, and you have proved that you are in fact the future Supreme whether me or my girls like it or not." Ophelia, the current Supreme, said. To do this, was going against his brothers' word as they wanted nothing to do with the witches. He didn't sought out the approval of Ophelia, quite frankly she terrified the piss out of him, and yet as he runs the bath water he's inquisitive. He closes the door, locking it behind him.
[b]"Where is it?" He's surprised he'd gotten his backpack into the bathroom without rising questions. It's hard to do anything when you're bombarded with ten others in your household. And no, this wasn't the Coven. This was his home. "There!" Ophelia gave it to them during their little 'brunch.' A spell and a picture of her. At the bottom was a signature. "Marcy." He murmurs, scanning it over as he approaches the running bath water.
"Why does it have to be in bath water?" He mumbles. He immerses one foot in, shuttering at the sensation of wet sweatpants against clothes. "Why does my clothes have to be on- Jesus." He had to use the 'Ripping off a bandaid'. technique. Immerse his body in the water completely before settling, into the tub. He closes his eyes, endeavoring himself in the state of mind the spell demands. He's never been good at this, as his mind wanders ubiquitously, but after a few attempts he's there. He loses all sense of his surroundings. Lights flicker and he immerses himself in the water.
He's now there, wedged between an old barn and cottage. He looks around, dumbfounded, mouth gaping as he circles the area in which Ophelia had described. "I did it..." he whispered to himself, fist pumping the air. "I did it!" Little did he know that someone would approach him in the process further proving that he needed to pay more attention of his surroundings.
[b][I](IS I AM ON THE RUN AND GO)
[align=center][font=arial][I]so, i heard the world doesn't revolve around me /:
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