into the woods

[do_what_thou_wilt]

Auryn takes a few days to settle in. To get a roof, however fleeting, over his head; unpack, cast some basic wards over the space he's claimed as his own. To soak up the feel and the history in even the timber and architecture of this town. But it's been an intent road that led him here, unlike some of the other places he's visited in his life.

It doesn't take him a long time to start hearing names he recognizes, to start hearing the way they're said by one or another person. It doesn't take much effort to inquire -- tourist-like and all naivete and wide eyes -- as to the rumors about this town, to drop names he's had pressed into his mind by witches that sent him on his way here. Names like Coombs and Grimhilde, to say things like "curses" and "evil" and to see what people say when they're asked about the truth. It takes even less effort to let them talk, wind stories and tales and histories that build on each other. A question here, an encouragement there. There isn't a trick to it except saying very little about himself.

Some tense at the question, or blow the whole thing off, and he notes that too.

The truth is, as usual, what you make of it. But there are overlaps, and directions that repeat themselves. And it's that, and needing some solitude, that finds Auryn wandering purposefully into the woods north by northeast.

It's been unseasonably warm, grey and damp these last few days, and the gabardine jacket he's wearing over a hoodie, dark jeans tucked into boots is almost too warm as he carefully traces his way up following the trace of trees. He lets himself adjust as the lack of town noise gives in to dense, more subtle cues: birds taking off from trees, the whisper of bare branches against a gray sky, or the shuffle of evergreen: the subtle presence of a fox or stray dog alerting itself in the back of his mind and the dense feel of the magic in the air around here.

He's wandering without thinking, intentionally putting thought out of his head, so much so that when he realizes it's gotten colder, darker, he can't tell how quickly that happened. He raises his head at the sudden distinct silence and stills himself for a moment. A murder of crows -- or ravens? -- takes off from a far off tree and circles, and he turns toward their watching place, holding his right hand open and passive to them before following curiously.

[Open! Auryn's in search of Grimhilde Manor, but choose your own adventure. Does he find it? Does someone else find him first? Feel free to bump into him in the woods, or maybe he get s turned around in a giant circle by the ravens and ends up back in town. A great time to meet him.]

Comments

[neriumoleander]

Siren Cove has been quiet for some time now. Since the great power and disturbance of the cave, the winds have been relatively tranquil. Nothing of great significance or great power, and ever approaching the humans' time of festivities, she has entered a sort of hibernation typical of Winter creatures. She spends her days toiling over the most complex of potions - some of which require the newly decayed fallen fauna of winter, others merely necessitate the time to spend days of focus on nothing but the swirling concoction and subtly brewing powers - and studying thick and dusty tomes.

But that all changed a few days before. It was her ravens who first brought to Nerium the crackling energy carried in the wind, sign of a new power - one that is far less restrained than most here. Nerium summons a new vision orb, and it takes only a matter of moments and a few locator spells to find Auryn within it. She keeps a close eye on him in the days following, particularly amused as she hears hints of 'Grimhilde' upon his lips.

It takes only a matter of days for him to venture into her woods, but she is unwilling to simply let him come to her. If his interest lies in powers, in great witches, let him demonstrate his own.

She summons her ravens to keep watch of him, to lead him in the right direction. When he arrives on the lands on the manor, if he finds it in the maze of trails, he will need cross a thicket of brambles and thorns, high as the manor itself and enchanted to fight back. She is particularly proud of the spell as they grow and twist before her. It was a favorite of her great great great grandmother's and she has no doubt its power. If he makes it through, perhaps then she will be willing to speak.

[do_what_thou_wilt]

Following the ravens leads him, steadily: he's wary, and keeps his eyes open and his defenses at the ready but for now, they seem to be taking him further toward his goal. He coaxes the underbrush and tree limbs away from him with gentle intent as he pieces his way through the woods.

He feels the hedge before he sees it, a vast magical force, and when he does come up to it, he takes a moment to just stand, absorbing high twisting barbed-wire-like brambles and winding vines, eyes following.

It's not fear that makes him pause. It's respect. There's an audacity to it, throwing some fairy-tale barrier around yourself in the middle of a nominally open woods. The blatant control and power necessary to manage it. And a little bit of a sense of humor that makes him grin. He hopes the last scion of the Grimhildes isn't expecting a prince or she'll be disappointed with what she gets.

He's been around wards that block spellwork, cast so thick it's nearly painful. This barrier to him isn't friendly in the slightest, but it still feels better.

He knows there's a very real chance there's nothing friendly behind this wall, but he has to try.

Auryn doesn't have any tools except a knife, any charmed objects or the space and relative safety to cast something large. He crouches, instead, and finds the nearest evergreen he can persuade to give up one of its branches, stripping its extra growth swiftly to bare the wick wood underneath. There: a wand and a staff if he needs one. Then, he thinks.

The wall expects attack. If this is a fairy tale, or a satire of one, the obvious next step would be to start slashing away. He suspects that arrogance will get his face ripped open.

He lets down his guard, and lets himself out of his head, and calls on wisdom and strength. A light in the darkness, a map to find the way safely: he smiles when a little light illuminates an almost invisible gap in the hedge a few yards down. He puts up his hood around his face and steps in quietly, unafraid, but aware.

He makes it a little ways in in unassuming patient steps, winding and avoiding large thorns, sweet-talking the briars to let down their guard, when the whole thing shifts, snuffing his guiding little ball. It's like it's trying to shake an itch, vines writhing at his face, and he throws the staff forward to give himself room, blasting the attacking thorns into frozen char. Respect he might have for this, but not stupidity. If this place wants to fight him, Auryn is perfectly capable of giving no quarter.

He lifts the staff and this time it's fire he calls ahead of him.

[neriumoleander]

The locator spell is not difficult. Though he approaches the brambles not in attack, but with a level of appreciation. Clearly he is a friend of magic. His treatment of the branch is another thing entirely, coaxing magic from the mundane. She has never been one for wand magic, hers coming from more innate powers within, but she respects his quick work nonetheless. When he calls forth fire from the makeshift staff she nearly calls down the walls. But she wants to see more.

The burns away a clearing, unfolding a labyrinth before him. Depending on the path he takes, he will find a sphinx, a unicorn, or a fair maiden. All illusions, of course, but his choices upon finding him will reveal all Nerium wishes to know. The maiden she draws up looks quite a bit like Rose, but in a sheer blue gown, flowers in her hair. It amuses Nerium greatly. The Unicorn and Sphinx are tried and true illusions she often summons to keep her own self company, the sphinx often riddling her to revelations and epiphanies, the unicorn a fierce but haughty friend.

Nerium makes her way to the front of the manor to get a better look of the labyrinth which has unfurled before her. The orb which reflects Auryn levitates behind her, flaring with his fire.

[do_what_thou_wilt]

The fire consumes, and when it's gone there's a clearing, the path leading into a labyrinth. He can see the tall peaks of the manor beyond, but he's starting to think that distance here is an illusion -- he's been walking for a while now.

"I think I know this one," he says dryly, but he can't help smiling a little, tilting his head at it.

There's something so fantastic about this all. For a long time, his magic has been about survival, and when he's in a good place, about personal growth, about learning to connect himself to something larger. But the hedge of thorns, the labyrinth. It's magic in a different sense, like the feeling the first few times, snuck away from his aunt's house, that he'd created fire -- back then, just little sparks. It had been so incredible, and new, and so defiant. Another world to exist in, as if proving that he was right that he didn't belong in theirs.

He heads down into it, almost immediately confronted with a juncture. He leans down both ways, reaches out -- though divination isn't his strong point -- touches the path for any sense he might pick up. All things being equal, he amuses himself by taking the left-hand path and heads further into the maze, drawing along the wall with his staff.

[neriumoleander]

Auryn is ten steps into the left path. Ten steps and the beating of wings fills the air. A great shape blocks all light from the tall labyrinth walls and when it lands, he is faced with a lion-like creature. Great haunches and wild mane, but with great wings it folds over itself and a humanoid face nestled within the mane.

Its voice is a growl, and it cranes its neck to peer at the trespasser, nearly pressing its nose against his.

"It cannot be seen Cannot be felt Cannot be heard Cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after Ends life and kills laughter."

The creature lets out a growling laugh. "Answer my riddle true or become my feast you do."

[do_what_thou_wilt]

Auryn stops and looks up at the sound of wings, the sudden blotting of light, breath catching at the shape of lion's body, eagle-like wings, a human-like face but much larger. A sphinx. It can't be real, but then what defines that, anyway?
Even if it's not, the purity of the illusion, the solidity of its presence is amazing.

He can feel his father's dogtags strangely cold against his neck as he looks back into its eyes steadily.

The words are familiar, resonate somewhere that he knows, some sense memory of turning pages. but he can't focus right now on anything but the riddle itself. "Comes first and follows after," he repeats to himself, the sphinx a breath away, but he knows this. Kills laughter. It's nothing. No, not nothing -- "Darkness," he says abruptly, looking back up, and repeats himself certainly. "It's the dark."

[neriumoleander]

The Sphinx takes a few steps back, emitting a low growl. "And who are you?"

[do_what_thou_wilt]

"My name is Auryn Connor," he answers, honestly, proud of the name he bears. But, because that doesn't explain anything -- the Connors have been witches for generations but he certainly doesn't have the line to point to -- he adds, "I'm a witch. I'm looking for Nerium Grimhilde."

That should get a reaction, one way or the other, and he looks back at the sphinx curiously, waiting for its reaction.

[neriumoleander]

The creature snarls, stretching on its haunches into pouncing position. It steps forward eyeing the intruder with annoyance and ferocity.

"I did not ask your name, your mission, nor breed. Who are you?"

[do_what_thou_wilt]

The question takes him aback a little, more even than the giant lion-creature that could make a meal of him. It's not that he hasn't contemplated the question, ever, although it's a difficult question to give a good answer to.

It's that his name, his mission, and his breed are who he is, aren't they? They're all he's embraced for so long, shedding away extraneous aesthetics and learning to define against what he is not.

Who am I. He takes a long breath and lets it out, trying to stop finding his boundaries and surpass them instead.

He answers with another question, a habit he's picked up almost by accident. "Are you not asking my name and my mission then, really?" He raises an eyebrow at this beast in his path. It's rhetorical, though, and he looks back up more openly.

"You should like me, then, master of Riddles. I am a man, and not a man. I want peace, and I will fight for it; I would die to live as I please."

He tries to form words for what he thinks of when he thinks of himself. Instead, he finds himself calling forward fire again from his hands because, who knows, maybe it's the easiest to call because it he relates to it so well. "I am a spark waiting for tinder. Revolution. Rage." The flames burst and flare high under his gaze and he focuses on them until they turn into a flutter of white petals that fall to the ground. "Maybe love, sometimes. Maybe too much of it."

He looks up again. "I'm made of pieces, like you. You ask who I am, I'm a Connor, and I'm a witch, and that's the truth."

[neriumoleander]

The Sphinx purrs, bowing it's head.

"You may pass then, Conner, Witch, of determined contradictions." And the it disappears, the labyrinth merging to one straight path and, and it's end, Nerium Grimhilde.

She waits there, arms crossed, a face flat and unreadable but with the faintest hint of a glimmer in her eye.

"And for what do you seek me, Auryn Conner?"

[do_what_thou_wilt]

He's answered with more honesty than he grants most people but it's still surprising when the Sphinx purrs, earth-rumbling and comforting. If only because he's not used to who he is being taken without a fight.

Auryn greets Nerium with a respectful incline of his head and a curious look. She's beautiful, in a sort of pre-raphaelite way, and younger than he'd expected, though that isn't necessarily real. "The truth. Your reputation precedes you. But humans like their stories."

"Do you test all your visitors?"

[neriumoleander]

"Mm." A considered tone hums from her lips as she looks him over. The man carries himself with command, he clearly has great power within him. His words are intriguing, but his aim remains unknown. Some who seek revolution seek to undo all the Grimhildes hold dear.

"I believed it my family with the reputation. If you seek them, I fear I am the last remaining. But I ensure you, I carry the way of the Grimhildes with all of my being."

She smiles, a slow uptick of the corners of her mouth, and turns towards the mansion for him to follow her.

"Most, yes. Those who trespass. Those who I do not know. Others come bearing gifts of great sacrifice for safe passage. You may follow."

As Nerium makes her way back to the manor, great stone stairs rise up from the ground itself, leading to a great door that had not been seen before. "And what do you bring me, Auryn Conner?"

[do_what_thou_wilt]

"Is that something to fear?" he asks with a small smile and a teasing tilt of his head. He doesn't doubt what she says about upholding her family way. Her words belie her demeanor -- proud and a little cold. She has the skills to back it up. He doesn't know, yet, who she really is, which parts of the reputation of her family are actually the way of the Grimhildes, which part of that way is actually her way -- that's what he's interested in, her opinions and emotions, what impassions her -- not the beliefs she's supposed to hold.

"Thank you." Auryn follows, watching the stone stairs appear elegantly. He thinks, but doesn't say, that her policy of demanding prowess or payment speaks of fear, a little bit. But he understands that fear. His just takes the form of aggressively demanding recognition. "Just myself," he says. "My abilities." He opens his hand to reveal a dogbane stem he'd plucked while first entering the woods, pulled from his pocket, and coaxes a bloom out of the winter-withered bud. After a moment of concentration it transforms into its cousin: her namesake, a slightly wider whiter flower.

"And hopefully, interesting conversation," he adds as she reaches the door. "As I think you might have all the material goods you can stand in this place all by yourself, but maybe a lack of questions."

[neriumoleander]

"It is something to know. You make your own assessment of the rest."

He is cocky, but not with the same egotistical ignorance as most. His seems to come more from a place of interest, of readiness to face what's ahead. Of knowing. It is something she can respect. Or at the very least tolerate.

"Though you should know, my ravens are those who failed to assess their situations properly."

The stairs continue to rise, nearly as high as the manor itself, and as they climb, the manor too grows. The first entrance was an illusion. They approach and it fades, and the stairs continue to climb. Finally they reach a stone archway, and a great green door beneath.

"I should like to see more of your abilities. You should quite promising work in the labyrinth. I-" She stops short as he brings the flower to creation from the wood. It is not the magic that makes her pause, and her eyes flicker a shade softer as it blooms - but the clear personal touch. The gifts she's given typically contain great sacrifice or power. But this is one of delicacy and beauty. Nerium has never been given a flower before.

"The flower is beautiful." Her momentary softness is lulled by his assertion, as the door pushes open to a great stone hall, lit of levitating candles. She responds with the coldness of winter instead. "But I assure you, there is nothing here I lack. You may enter, if you wish."

[do_what_thou_wilt]

He glances up. "Duly noted," he says, and muses, lightly, "If I was going to be turned into anything, a raven wouldn't be the worst option I suppose. Beautiful birds and amazingly intelligent."

Auryn catches the momentary soft surprise in her eyes at the oleander flower, the slight drop in the facade, and he can't help but feel a little pleased. It intrigues him and he'd like to prompt that again. The gap in the wall of thorns, so to speak. "I'd be glad to have the opportunity," he tells her, honestly.

She goes very cold very quickly at the suggestion that she might be missing out on conversation, which makes him think he's right. "Thank you," he says, taking in the great hall. It's more lavish than anywhere he's ever been, the floating candles eerily lovely and a bit fantastical even to him. The whole place faintly vibrates of power. "This place is beautiful," he says. He's not particularly impressed by wealth, but he can't deny the aesthetics.

"I've been looking, for a long time, for a place that I could practice my magic openly, and for others like me who believe I should be able to." he begins as way of introduction as they walk. "That search brought me to Siren Cove. I don't know if it lives up to the hype, but I can see why the stories about this place and its families exist."

[neriumoleander]

"Your assessment there is fair. Perhaps more beautiful and intelligent than many humans."

Nerium leads a few steps in front of him, so that he cannot see the flicker of smile at his compliment. The hall is a place of magnificence, speaking of ancient beauty, and stained glass mosaics at its top depict scenes of great deities and demons and fantasy realms. In the dancing candle light, they appear alive, in motion.

She veers off to the right, leading him through a small stone archway and into the kitchen. It is much homier than the great hallway, filled with herbs and hanging carcasses of freshly prepared meats, fermenting cheeses, and musty books. In great contrast, she has lined several canisters of different hot chocolates, and a box of holiday peppermint bark. It is ill-fitting and she places an obscurement charm in hopes that he has not seen it.

"May I get you something? Chicken and figs, perhaps? Some tea?" Her demeanor has softened, and there's an air of lightness in her steps and movements around the kitchen now. Perhaps this visitor has been long sought. One who shares her views. Sees magic for what it truly is.

"The witches of this town are all too pleased to assimilate. As if magic is to be hidden and kept behind closed doors. Siren Cove was once a place of great power and protection for magic kind. My great great aunt herself led it into a golden era."

She calls forth china cups and levitates a kettle to pour tea for the both of them without waiting for him to accept. It is of dried rose petals, wild oranges, and hybrid herbs of her own design.

"If what you say is true, you will be granted safe passage here. And of what is your personal magic?"

[do_what_thou_wilt]

Auryn follows her, studying the mosaics, the architecture, with interest; there's splendor and history and darkness there and he'd like to have some time to look at them more in depth. It's the feel of the smaller kitchen, though, that really catches him.

His mother wasn't a witch like he is one, but she was devoted to a kind of magic nonetheless, and though his memories of his childhood with his parents seem dreamlike, there are things he remembers. Books everywhere; herbs always hanging in the kitchen and by the doors, mason jars high on a shelf he couldn't reach. There's something of that to this, albeit more castle-like kitchen.

Some tin bright with holiday colors catches his eye, but when he looks back for it it's gone, as though it was never there, and he eyes the place he thought it was with some suspicion and slight amusement, glancing at Nerium and watching her settle in. She's at home here, and her cold demeanor has lessened, just a little, and he finds himself relaxing a little.

He nods at her words, frowning. "That's what I was afraid of." That's exactly the feeling he'd gotten from this place. From every place he's been, but here he'd expected something different. And perhaps once upon a time it would have been something different, if it's true that her great-great aunt had as much effect as she says.

Auryn doesn't have a chance to decline tea or make an effort at it; she's already pouring some from a teapot. It smells wonderful and he says as much, nodding in thanks.

"If anything, you'll find I'm usually too honest," he tells her with a small smile. "My magic is -- mostly self-discovered," he decides. He looks into the tea for a moment. "I was taken from my parents when I was young," he admits. It's slightly more than he'd admit to most strangers this early, but it's important in knowing why he feels as strongly as he does, and he thinks Nerium is on his side, here. "It was called -- I was told -- that they weren't proper caregivers. I wasn't a stupid child. Our community was conservative and afraid and they needed a way to punish transgression." His voice goes hard, and he pulls himself back into control, taking a sip of tea. "Anything formal I know, I know from them. I learned the rest when it came to me, from practicing on my own, trying new things in darkness and hidden away where no one could stop me. I'm just about done with hiding."

He holds open his hand. "As near as I can tell, what I can do is affect structure. Fire's easy. Creating heat, persuading molecules to move faster and carbon to burn." He finds the dust motes in the air, pulls them together, lights them up in a small flicker that bursts from his palm. "But I've gotten good at persuasion." He asks the fire to freeze, and it stops and hardens before he disintegrates it. "And at sensing the forces I'm reaching for. It's something that I'm part of, and I want to learn how to channel that."

He realizes he's rambling -- it's been so long since he had someone who understood these things, who agreed with his standpoint. "You'll regret asking me to talk about it," he jokes, and takes another sip of tea.

[neriumoleander]

His pleasure, his interest with the manor pleases Nerium. The way his eyes hungrily take in the stained glass and murals. Most turn in horror at some of the images depicted. Dark beings and sacrifices. But they are things of beauty and it seems he sees it too.

There are not many who take Nerium by surprise. Admittedly, they have not much opportunity, her orbs are windows into the very souls of Siren Cove - and it is her gift to read them and to transcribe the winds of change and energies that surround this town. She knows most here better than they know themselves, she would wager. But Auryn is new. She knows a name, she can feel the crackle of energy and deep wells of magic he carries with him. But who he is is a story she has yet to crack the spine of.

The more he tells the more she wishes to know. And she finds his words luring her own. Speaking words she rarely reveals. Once the tea is poured she leads him from the kitchen down a long and narrow stone corridor. It is not so ornate as the main foyer, but it too is lit by levitating candles dancing shadows along the walls.

"My mother was taken from me when I was young. By the great and wicked deities of chaos, perhaps. But she was a strong swimmer and as I grow older I find it difficult to believe she of such power was lost by a drowning."

At the end of the corridor is the central-most seating room, perfectly round at the base of a tower, ceiling several stories high, deep green sofas with mahogany legs carved into gargoyles sit in the center. With the raise of her arms, Nerium ignites a fireplace set into the backwall.

"What was done to you is an irredeemable atrocity. These are the horrors witches are faced with today. We are the great powers. We were the first, children of the moon, long before the mundanes were even conceived. And now the humans seek to undo us. Condemn us and chain us with their fear. Most in this town no nothing of their true natures and do not wish to hear it. And it is a town far more kind to powered-beings here than most.

"Your honesty is most valued here. I assure you, deception will not pass freely." She takes a seat in a highbacked chair, the wood frame carved into snakeheads above her, and gestures for him to sit himself.

His flame reflects in her dark eyes, and as he disintegrates it, they go large, twinkling with excitement. She's not seen power like this. So effortless. To do so self-taught. He is clearly a force to know.

"Much power is borne in the darkness." Her lips flicker to a smile. "If you wish to learn more, to discover and learn the great magics beyond just yourself, perhaps the great goddesses have brought you to me."

[do_what_thou_wilt]

Auryn can tell that she's not just humoring his speech and it soothes the impulse to keep his secrets safe. He follows her down to the corridor, darker and plainer but all lit by the floating candles.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he says, looking at her with more understanding, knowing all too well how earth-shattering that loss can feel when you're young. Or later, maybe, but he's never had the opportunity to find that out. "Anyone to do that intentionally would have to have great power themselves, to contend with someone that powerful." Before he finishes saying it, he realizes that's a possibility -- from what has been said about the Grimhildes in town, from what Nerium has said. Witch communities are so small now that the idea of warring within one seems nonsensical to him, but there are many reasons to vie for power, and he can imagine not everyone shares their beliefs.

Her words as she ignites the fire in front of him bolster him, but he turns to her with a raised eyebrow as she finishes. "My mother was what you call a mundane," he reminds her, his voice going very slightly hard with defense. If she presses him, Auryn has to admit that his mother is the exception, rather than the rule to humans. Those that he's socialized with or been forced to have called him a freak, been afraid of him and his parents, or prized, fetishized him only for the novelty and the chance at rebellion. He's certainly not going to make generalizations about the kindness of humans. But he remembers their house. His mother loved him and his father and was in no way subservient to their needs. And his father respected and honored her beliefs, though he could have mocked them or handwaved them for his own tangible power. They worked together as a family. Auryn doesn't remember much of them, but he remembers that.

"You're right," he concedes, sitting down, "humans are guided by fear. They chain themselves with it as much as they do us. We could all live freely --" he shakes his head and looks up at her. "You value my honesty," he says. "Then believe, in honesty, I want our freedom. I don't think that requires we dismiss anyone else. I don't think it would be wise. But they've dismissed us for too long."

He shows her his powers and watches her eyes fix on the flame, go wide with uncontrolled excitement, and it makes him smile a little, relaxing as he prompts a good response. "Perhaps," he agrees. He doesn't believe in great deities as much as some others, but who can say what fate has in store. "Is that something you can teach me?" he raises an eyebrow.

[OOC: SO MUCH OVERLAP, hope this made sense to you!]

[lesparker]

Les literally escapes into the woods that night after that evening's developments between himself and Caden and April, he finds himself tossing a bag over his shoulder and heading to outskirts of town. There has never been anything to drive him away from Siren Cove, but he is tempted. Definitely tempted. In the end, what he needs is simply to find a way to be himself again, to be whole. That drama and complicated relationship stuff had run its course, it had chewed him up and spit him back out again, confused and floundering, but he's determined to move past it.

Magic is the only way he knows how to do that. It's what he loves. It's the only thing that truly brings a balance to his life. He knows magic. He understands it. It's simple and beautiful and awesome and it brings him the connections he seeks to his mother and his place in the world. He has never had to question it, and he finds himself wandering for over an hour deep into the dark, mystical woods out near Old Attwater Chapel. It's past midnight. It's stupid to be out here, but he doesn't care.

He stands there looking at the deserted chapel for a long time, staring at the tattered, corroded wood. The building looks ready to collapse in on itself, and yet it's stood in these woods for over a hundred years, even after that Thornton witch torched the place. From certain angles, the fog makes it look like there's still smoke rising from the rafters. He turns the door handle and creeps inside. During that episode with the evil mist, he and Riley had come to this chapel. There's a tunnel system that runs beneath it, and Les has a wild hair to go exploring its secrets.

Hell, what else is he doing tonight? Why not have a little adventure?

[do_what_thou_wilt]

It's well and truly night now, and what had started out an afternoon adventure to seek out the truths of the Grimhildes has turned into turning around and around in the woods.

Auryn never feels truly lost, though, especially not in the woods -- he's more likely to find himself a little overwhelmed in a dense city full of people busy judging each other. He's got a little light called to him and he's exploring at this point, more interested in what might be here, what these woods hold than how cold it might be getting or if he should really be home.

It's possible he's lacking a self-preservation instinct that most other people have.

He's brought up short by the chapel. He'd been told about this place in his casual questions about witch legends but he bypassed it before, and he looks at it curiously, wandering closer and quieting himself to listen to the sounds and the energy, to take it all in.

Then he hears a creak that's distinctly man-made, a door or a handle, and he rounds the corner, brightening his light to see who might be there.

[lesparker]

Well shit.

There's a man inside the chapel when Les enters it, and that's all he thinks to himself. Riley would be so proud of him tonight. In the bag he had brought with him, he had remembered a flashlight and a rope. He didn't know where he was going when he left the house, but he realized he had been coming here the moment he stepped out the door. There was no true reason why except that there are mysteries locked in this place, and he needs something to take his mind off of his life. He has the flashlight pointed directly in the man's face when he rounds the corner and finds him standing there. It is probably the absolute last thing Les expects, and he is momentarily surprised.

Les isn't supposed to be here. The man isn't either. He drops his light when it's obvious the man is real because where Les is blinding him with the flashlight he sees him squinting against it. "If this is a secret cult meeting, there better be snacks," Les tells him, checking out the man what little he can in such dark conditions. He's never seen him before which makes his presence here all the more strange.

[do_what_thou_wilt]

When Auryn rounds the corner, he walks directly into a flashlight beam, and startled, his own light blinks out and he squints for a second until the other man drops it, apparently as confused as he is to find someone else here.

He laughs, though, at the comment. "Just me, no cult. Though I can start one right now if you're really desperate for one to join." He summons back the little ball of illumination to be able to see him better. "I'm afraid I'm low on snacks, though."

[lesparker]

"Who's me?" Les asks, eyebrows raised, standing his ground a couple paces away. Though now he feels silly standing there with his cheap plastic flashlight while the man has his glowing orb of magical light flowing. His eyes flick to the illuminated ball hanging in the air between them, and the presence of magic is always enough to get his interests peeked. Especially because this dude doesn't know anything about Les for him to just use his magic in front of him so freely.

[do_what_thou_wilt]

"Auryn," he says, "Connor." He offers a hand across the no man's land between them. The man across from him looks intrigued, maybe a little bemused by the glow, but not afraid or upset. It's a little unnecessary use of energy with a flashlight, though, and he pulls it back.

"I'd ask what you're doing here this time of night, but. Well."

[lesparker]

Bad break-up, Les thinks. That's what he's doing here. It's only been a few hours since everything exploded in his face. He's lost people he's cared about. It's his own doing, but there was no way he could keep April and Caden. So, they hate him now, and he's here trying to actually forget about it. Or maybe he's trying to get lost down in those tunnels. Who the fuck knows? He didn't expect to run into this dude Auryn to have to explain it, and he is actually ticked off about it.

This is the last place in the world he thought he'd see anyone, and that's what he'd wanted. Stupid and melodramatic as it is. He'd wanted to be alone.

He holds out his hand anyway to shake Auryn's. "I'm Les," he says. "You're new to town. Just stopping through or setting up shop?" he asks, finding himself curious about this man despite himself.

[do_what_thou_wilt]

A flicker of mixed feelings leaning toward annoyance crosses the other's face, which only really makes Auryn more determined to stay here if he wants to. He hasn't done anything but get misled by a bunch of ravens. Or led differently.

But when the man - Les - speaks, it's with no disrespect. "Good to meet you, Les," Auryn says. "And you say that certainly. I'm not sure, to tell you the truth. I was set in this direction by a friend and it'd be nice to find a place to stay. But who knows what the future holds."

[lesparker]

"It's easy to spot the newbies. They wander out in these woods. Late at night. Alone," he says, smirking. There were enough things hanging around in town where one didn't need to go looking for more. Out in the woods, out near this old church and not too far off from Grimhilde Manor, there were secrets you didn't want to dig up. He isn't sure what that says about him since he too is out here alone.

Les can take care of himself though. Or, he's dumb enough to think he can. He has always lacked that instinct that tells him to turn back. He's also never been one to beat around the bush.

"So you're a witch? I can see why you were set in this direction then. Interesting trick you had going there," he says, meaning the ball of light from before.

[do_what_thou_wilt]

"Does that make you a newbie?" Auryn asks, though the question lacks malice, just humor. He wasn't actively looking for this place, but now that he's here, he'll let it pull him in.

"I am," he answers honestly. "But this wasn't the place I was looking for, exactly. And yourself?" He raises an eyebrow.

"It's handy. I have an ease with luminescence and fire," he says, and asks gently, carefully to summon light back. The easiest way to do it is to change the speed of the atoms around him: it produces harmless radiation and it's that that hovers, glowing. It's easiest for Auryn to control things he can understand, though if he let go and trusted the result he's sure it would be the same. The little light, starting slowly from the tips of his fingers, coalesces into a ball, and he tosses it forward.

[lesparker]

"No," Les answers in an honest tone and a shrug of shoulders. "Just bored." But he watches carefully as Auryn summons back the light between his hands. It really is brilliant, and on the inside, Les is more than a little delighted by the ease at which the man allows the light to grow between his fingers. He may be a witch himself, but maybe that's why he can appreciate a good display when he sees one.

It's why he reaches his hand out and lets his powers flow outward to catch the light when Auryn tosses it into the space between them. He can't control the light nearly as well as Auryn can, but the energy is already there and it's a simple twist and a spark of magic to mold the light into a ball of flames.

He smirks when he's finished as he holds the spell in his hand. "Well, that makes two of us. I'm calling it meant to be," he says, letting the flame burn even brighter before flinging it back to Auryn. "What place were you looking for exactly?"

[do_what_thou_wilt]

Auryn shrugs in an easy that's-fair sort of movement. He might have been looking for the Grimhilde place, but he likes that Les' idea of solving boredom is wandering into a creepy chapel just about soaked with power in the middle of the woods in pitch blackness.

His eyes light up, though, when Les not only catches the ball with a tangible extension of powers, but the whole thing goes up into flames: it's a twist of excitement to find someone who knows. "Apparently so," he says with a raised eyebrow, and takes a step closer to reach for it when Les flings it in his direction: he catches it, suspending the ball of flames over both their heads and casting weird shadows over both of them.

"Since I've gotten to Siren Cove I've heard nothing but rumors about the old witch families," he admits. "The Coombs curse, the Grimhildes trying to take over. I wanted to see what the truth of it was." He looks around. "Not at midnight, but I got off track, thanks to a bunch of ravens." He raises an eyebrow and brings the fire back in, forms it into the shape of a flock of birds and flies it over toward Les, circling in firey wingspans. "This place --" He looks around. "It's dripping in energy. What is it?"

[lesparker]

"A flock of ravens, huh?" Les just snorts. He imagines Nerium Grimhilde huddled over her wall of stalking fun watching Auryn wandering through the woods as she led him on a merry chase to nowhere. She had a weird way of making friends. Though how many times had Les himself gone pillaging through these woods looking for a way into Grimhilde Manor. Half the reason was the effort it took.

He glances up at the flock of birds Auryn creates from the flames. He's impressed. "This---" Les raises an eyebrow back. "---is cursed land. Legend goes that at Jonatan Thornton's wedding his jilted ex lover showed up and torched the place. Never date a witch I guess. But it makes for a good story."

[do_what_thou_wilt]

Auryn grins and shrugs. "Makes a more interesting story than some other times I've gotten lost in the woods," he says, and leans on the wall casually. He's hard to dissuade: ending up here seems like it must have almost been intended, and if not, he'll try again later.

He looks around as Les explains. The other has a bit of a knack for "More like, never betray one," he points out thoughtfully -- not too serious. "This is where the wedding was? I've heard the story, a bit, but it doesn't exactly come with a tourist map. Siren Cove tourism board should get on that, it'd make a fortune." But he's more curious than anything else, runs his hand over the wall and presses it to the wood. "Do you believe the story as it's told?"

[lesparker]

"Do I believe this town is cursed because of some wedding a hundred years ago?" Les rephrases the question because if this chapel was on some tourist map that would be the explanation given by the tour guides. They'd tell people that Viviana Coomb's broken heart brought chaos to this town, and it just never left. It's a romantic thing to want to believe. Like Les said, it makes for a good story.

However, he shakes his head watching Auryn press his hands to the burned out walls. "No, I don't," he says. "I mean she probably cursed this church. But as for the town, weird things happen but mainly because there are a lot people around here that do a lot of dumb shit." He doesn't elaborate. If this guy decides to stay, it won't be long before he understands.

Things happen here. Bad things. But it's not because of some dumb curse.

[do_what_thou_wilt]

Auryn nods with a wry smile. There's something about Les' cynicism that he relates to instinctively, though there's a part of him that keeps a candle lit for romantic stories. About magic, anyway.

"Fair enough," he says. "It's human nature, isn't it? Doing a lot of dumb stuff?"

He looks up at him. "What about you? What brings you to a cursed chapel in the middle of the night?"

[lesparker]

"Yeah....." He draws out because then Auryn asks him what he's doing here, and he knows the answer is going to make him sound like one of those dumb shit people. The difference is he doesn't care, and his dumb shit usually just hurts him (all issues with his romantic life aside). He looks Auryn down with a smirk.

"There's a tunnel system under the church. I was just gonna poke around," he says. "Or you know...I can stay up here with you and we can summon an evil spirit."

[do_what_thou_wilt]

That smirk's a little cocky, a little mischievous in a way that has always appealed to Auryn's rebellious side, and he meets it.

"Admittedly, I missed out a little on the Bloody Mary part of childhood," he deadpans, "but I have to say, those tunnels sound a lot more interesting and less likely to end us up as the backstory for a horror movie."

[lesparker]

"Possibly. I've been down there before, and there's a dead body," Les says, holding the flashlight up to his face as if he's telling a scary story. He chuckles after pulling the light back away. "Hey, what better way to kill an hour though right?" He heads over to the area of the main room where he and Riley had found the entrance.