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Literature
Allan - Inn and out - June prompt
Allan woke up that morning with a headache. He had bad dreams about his little brother, once again. Or maybe it was the excessive amount of ale he had drunk the night before. He got up, and Rainbow said, in his odd bird voice: « Mornin’, sunshine! ». Allan threw a malevolent glare at his familiar, who loved to tease him when he was in a bad mood, then he went to the tiny kitchen corner of his little own room in the London suburbs, near Regent’s park, and began brewing willow tree leaves and bark, with a bit of thyme, and some other plants he knew. He filtered the brew after cooking, and drank it all. In a few minutes, he would feel better.
The young man had to hurry, he had a shop to run, since he had made a living of selling his potions to people in the suburbs. He owned a cart with a marquee, in which he settled when he wanted to sell potions and charms to the clients. He also read their future in northern runes like Vera had taught him, except his run
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Literature
Vera - The ghost friend (june prompt)
For some time now, Vera had been keeping her ouija board under lock and key, in an iron box, to prevent the potential mixing of magics between it and her Woodwife stuff. She couldn’t stop thinking about her strange experience, her supernatural encounter, no less than a ghost, a real one. Asa Badner obsessed her, but she was too shaken by her latest encounter to go back right away. She had tried to do some researching on him, but so far, she had only found out that he was known to throw extravagant parties and be the favorite gossip of the high society, until he died quite suddenly. But the society was strangely quiet about the way he had died. Even seemed relieved to be rid of him at the time. Maybe he had been too exuberant for them? What could he possibly have done wrong? He seemed like a rich, literate man, who liked to spend his money with liberality. She could learn nothing more but strange speculations about him being a wizard of sorts, which made no sense unless he had bee
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Isabelle - With and without a cloak by Nefermeritaset Isabelle - With and without a cloak :iconnefermeritaset:Nefermeritaset 1 5
Literature
Vera (and Antef) - The Ghost House (prompt sequel)
A few weeks had passed since their visit to the deserted estate. Vera had been to every shop about occult she knew, searching for an ouija board with even a faint glow to it, indicating it could be genuine and useful to her. Finally, she had found something, in a tiny, dusty, dark shop in a dubious neighborhood. The shop was named « The Shimmering Crystal » and claimed to sell and buy things from otherworldly places and rare antics. The place itself was a huge mess of various objects of many different kinds, stored on shelves mostly. There was a forked twig next to a mummy foot, an Aztec idol (a fake, she was sure) sat next to an orb with some kind of myst within, rare books piled like they were worth nothing were assaulted by dust, an you could even buy an Indian blowpipe with allegedly poisoned darts.The shop owner’s eyes had shone in anticipation when Vera, in her very noticeable cloak, had entered the stocked room. He had come to her, not bothering hiding
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Literature
Vera (and Antef) - The Ghost Garden
April was blooming in the gardens of London. Vera liked the lighter weather, and so did Arion who had begun to stir in his cage. Vera had been to one of her favorite tea houses, which was the mansion of a rich lady who liked her divination as an attraction for tea-time. The circle of ladies had become quite addicted to their weekly predictions, and Vera was happy to have a regular income from Lady Harrington, the host, and an opportunity to have tea in one of the most delightful places for gossiping in all London. The ladies had even begun to treat her like a friend rather than an attraction, because, well, gossiping was a gift to Vera, so they couldn’t resist her. Plus, she always dressed up for those weekly encounters, trying not to embarrass the ladies by appearing in old rags. True, she couldn’t afford the services of the famous seamstresses they all liked, but she was quite good at sewing herself, and she knew how to bargain for fabric, in exchange for little potions o
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Literature
Antef 01 - A sting in your finger
Life in Alexandria had not been tender towards Antef, but he didn’t mind. He had a job, a full belly most of nights, and places to stay dry in the Rain Season. Sure, it wasn’t in his nature to be violent, so he had found a way to make himself useful to the Boss nonetheless. He couldn’t be a cutthroat, but he was tall and muscular for his young age, so he could be an enforcer, to intimidate people by his very presence. He could deliver packages, too. Mostly opium, from the docks where it came from, to the smoking houses, where the consumers came. Antef knew it was illegal, and bad for health. But he couldn’t decide for others, so, if they wanted to ruin their health, it was their responsibility, not his.
To be more impressive and look like a fighter, Antef had came with a brilliant trick, which made quite an impression on his fellow henchmen (or rather, boys, for most of them). He had discovered he had a knack at making up fake wounds and scars, with only a few t
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Literature
Antef - Spring prompt
It was spring again, and the fine weather and newly blossomed flowers reminded Antef of the first actual spring he had ever seen. In Alexandria, where he had spent is youth, spring was a moderate alteration of the weather. A transition between the rain season and the hot season. If you ventured into the desert, nothing changed just because it was spring. In the big merchant port of Alexandria, you knew it was spring because of the different kinds of goods the ship brought to sale or trade.
It was only when Antef was brought in the traveling circus by Wadjet that he began to discover new countries. There, spring really meant something. It was not just another word. Antef discovered the green grass of countryside Europe first, when the circus headed to France. Grass was already green in winter. Only, when spring came, something happened. First, gillyflowers bloomed in gardens and even in more savage parts of the land. They came in several colors. Some were yellow, some were pink, some we
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Literature
Antef Character Sheet
Name: Antef
Sex: Male
Age: (13 when he became an apprentice) 21
Background: Orphaned young, Antef lived of small thievery, beggary and other petty crimes in the port of Alexandria in Egypt when he met with the Fairy Circus.
Hair: Long black and thick.
Eyes: Grey
Stage: Woodwife
Familiar: Female Porcupine - Fluffy
Cloak: Purple with crossed knives, grape vines, and sinister red that could be either blood or wine.
Touched by The Wood: No.
Effect: N/A
Truth: When life gives you grapes, you can either make sour vinegar or good wine, but you have to defend your choice and live with it.
History: Antef was born in a poor Nubian family who had settled in the port of Alexandria, Egypt, because his father was a sailor. His father never returned from a trip when Antef was still quite young, and his mother tried to deal with her three kids the best she knew, but she had to work on the docks for a living, and one day, she just never returned. Antef never knew if she abandoned them or died, or was m
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Literature
Wadjet Character Sheet
Name: Wadjet
Sex: Female
Age: (11 when she became an apprentice, 24 when she took an apprentice) 32
Background: She was born in a traveling circus where her parents worked.
Hair: Taupe-ish brown, mid-long.
Eyes: Striking blue
Stage: Woodwife
Familiar:  Male Wolverine - Nigel
Cloak: Beige fringed coat trimmed with Ankh crosses and Horus eyes embroidery, ending with a swan-like symbol on the bottom.
Touched by The Wood: No.
Effect: N/A
Truth: When life follows what you’re good at, heart is lighter than the Maat.
History: Daughter of Apophet, a strongly Woodtouched Woodwife born in Egypt who talks to snakes, is partly covered in scales, and was hereby the snake handler of a traveling circus and the « Snake Woman », and her husband Thomas, a human knife-thrower, Wadjet inherited her mother’s character and hair, and her father’s blue eyes and passion for knives. Wadjet's mother being a Woodwife, it didn’t come as a surprise when Wadjet turned
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Literature
L'enfant de la montagne
La petite masure de pierres calcaires était perchée en haut d’un piton rocheux, après un détour du chemin. De la fumée sortait de la cheminée. Couchée sur un coussin, Maman tricotait un pull pour son fils, grâce à la laine qu’ils avaient échangée à un berger en échange d’une aide pour passer le col encore très enneigé malgré l’arrivée du printemps, qui rendait le risque d’avalanches encore plus grand. Ses poils de carcajou la protégeaient bien du froid en bas, mais elle-même portait, sur son torse et ses membres supérieurs, un gros châle de laine. Une quenouille et un fuseau étaient rangés dans un coin. Maman jeta un regard attendri sur son fils, petit bonhomme pas plus gros qu’une miche de pain, qui avait grimpé sur les genoux de son père. Il n’était pas encore bien gros, mais il grimpait déjà partout comm
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Literature
BabySydder
Dans le terrier, sous le grand chêne, la famille blaireau s’activait. C’était le printemps et il fallait profiter que la terre était meuble pour agrandir le terrier, mais aussi récolter des fruits tous neufs, comme les premières framboises, des insectes qui sortaient enfin de leur sommeil, et d’autres petits animaux comestibles comme des grenouilles ou de petits serpents. Le clan avait bien prospéré la saison précédente, et plusieurs jeunes vivaient leur premier printemps. Bien qu’elle soit plus âgée que les autres, la petite bizarre, comme la désignaient la plupart des membres du clan en langage de blaireau, grandissait plus lentement que les autres petits. C’est pourquoi, ce printemps encore, elle se retrouvait à jouer avec les petits, incapable de se rendre utile. Heureusement, elle savait creuser, et de ce côté-là, avait un rôle à jouer dans le clan. Cela permetta
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Literature
Spring prompt - Vera Vintersdotter
It was spring again. The time of the year Arion preferred, when he got to fly over blooming flowers in gardens and parks. Vera let him out more often on spring time. But he sensed that she was not too happy about spring herself.
Vera was, in fact, brooding. Spring always brought back dreadful memories to her mind, but this year was worse. She had met this stranger, a Mage who called himself Albertus. And the turn of event had quite vividly reminded her of the reason why she hated spring so much. Aïsha. The memory of her was still very clear in Vera’s mind. The sunkissed half-Egyptian half-English Woodwife had been more than a friend to her. But it was so long ago! She was young, then. So young she had just finished her stewardship. It was during this time in the Heart she had met Aïsha, a free-minded Woodwife with a tendency to think she could do anything she wanted without caring for the consequences. Vera and her had instantly been friends. They even where briefly lov
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MYO Woodwife - Vera Vintersdotter by Nefermeritaset MYO Woodwife - Vera Vintersdotter :iconnefermeritaset:Nefermeritaset 0 2 March MYO Woodwife - Allan Winter by Nefermeritaset March MYO Woodwife - Allan Winter :iconnefermeritaset:Nefermeritaset 2 6 Fur stock by Nefermeritaset Fur stock :iconnefermeritaset:Nefermeritaset 0 3
Literature
Victor - Yuletide feast with Arty part 1
It was time at last. Victor came to his appointment with Arty in a state of nerves, because he didn't know if she would like the gift nor if she would accept going to the Yule festival in the Heart with him. They were to meet at the Workshop, as usual. Victor wore his usual hat and gloves, and of course his coat, but he had sewn a special festive costume to go with them, one who had the shape of a tuxedo but the deep, rich green of pines and sequins on it to sparkle like he was on stage. He had also embroidered shapes of holly on the lapels, with red sequins on it to figure the fruits. He hoped she wouldn't laugh too hard, because he liked fancy costumes, and had spent time on this one.
He had the gift box ornate with a ribbon, and was ready to give it to her as soon as they had properly kissed. He had not seen her the last days, because both of them were crazy busy. So here he was, waiting impatiently inside, looking constantly at the door. Shamrock, sensing his nervousness, shifted u
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Activity


153 deviations
107 deviations
Allan woke up that morning with a headache. He had bad dreams about his little brother, once again. Or maybe it was the excessive amount of ale he had drunk the night before. He got up, and Rainbow said, in his odd bird voice: « Mornin’, sunshine! ». Allan threw a malevolent glare at his familiar, who loved to tease him when he was in a bad mood, then he went to the tiny kitchen corner of his little own room in the London suburbs, near Regent’s park, and began brewing willow tree leaves and bark, with a bit of thyme, and some other plants he knew. He filtered the brew after cooking, and drank it all. In a few minutes, he would feel better.

The young man had to hurry, he had a shop to run, since he had made a living of selling his potions to people in the suburbs. He owned a cart with a marquee, in which he settled when he wanted to sell potions and charms to the clients. He also read their future in northern runes like Vera had taught him, except his runes were carved into wood, because that worked better for him. He put on his coat and took his haversack, then left home. He put some fresh potions and charms in the cart, which was stored in a rented shed in front of his ground floor apartment. He was proud to have managed to buy himself a place, even a tiny one, with his hard work. Rainbow went to sit on his shoulder. Allan pushed the cart towards his spot on Albany Street, then displayed the potions to sale, from the headache potion to the « love potion » (as he liked to call it), including tonics, balms agains the sore muscles, and all.

He was very surprised when, instead of the usual clients he got, a man he only knew from sight came to him, and said he should move before people started to get angry. What, in the name of the Wood, was that? He tried to ignore the warning, but soon, Miss Coventry, a regular customer of his, came to him with a frown. « Well well, young man. You really shouldn’t be there, you know? Didn’t you hear? Woodwives are not welcome in London anymore. At least some people think so ». Allan was taken aback. « And why is that, please, Miss Coventry? » he asked, puzzled. « You know that pub, the Hind and Hound, where young Bill Mason used to go for a drink? It was destroyed last night. Some claim it has something to do with Woodwives. Old Ben Harlow – do you know him? He lives on the docks – says a kind of monster came to the pub and threatened them all, before sprouting antlers and leaving the place a mess. Of course, nobody believes a word of what old Ben says, because he’s a know drunk and irredeemable liar, but he’s not alone on this one, and even the constabulary came to the Hind and Hound on the morning. » She stopped, breathless from all the talking. Allan frowned. « Allrighty, Miss, thanks for the warning, I will close the store for the day. You need something before I go? » he asked, in case. As a matter of fact, yes, she needed some balm for her sore knees, and a tisane for a better sleep. He sold her the two flasks, put the rest of his goods back in the cart for the day, and headed home.

Rainbow couldn’t stop talking on their way back. He blabbered about the ungratefulness of people, the money they wouldn’t make because of this, and all. Allan told him to shut up, and when he arrived to the shed to secure his cart, he took all the the bottles and boxes off the cart, put them into his haversack, and headed to the nearest druggist. He knew the man, who sometimes bought some of his products to sell them to his clients. When Allan got inside the store, the old man looked at him above his glasses, and it was not a welcoming look. « Hum, hello Mister Twigg. Would you buy some potions and balms from me today? », Allan asked shyly. The man didn’t answer instantly. He kept staring instead. After a moment, he seemed to come to life, and replied: « I think so. Obviously you won’t sell any on your own for a while, so you’ll have to give me a discount, or all the stock will be lost. » Allan sighed. He had dreaded that. But it was better to sell them at a low price than not at all. He agreed to the ominous bargain Mr. Twigg offered, and took the money.

When he was home, out of a job for now, idle and confused, Allan thought about the strange story he heard, and decided Miss Coventry’s version of the story wasn’t enough. Obviously, he had to hear the tale from someone who had been there, or he would never understand what had happened. He decided to go undercover – which meant no Woodwife coat, and more risk – and try to find Old Ben Harlow. The man seemed to be a good start, since he babbled about the events, and he might point Allan to someone else who had been there. The young man decided he couldn’t take Rainbow with him either, for he might be recognized easily. He took a regular coat, a worn one he had accepted once in exchange of a potion, instead of the money the man obviously lacked. He had regretted for a long time to have accepted it, because he couldn’t help thinking that the man couldn’t afford another coat, and would probably catch a fever from the cold. But he had decided to let go, and to learn from this adventure: he now gave the medicine for free to the poor ones, only in another place and time, to avoid any jealousy from his usual customers. Every now and then, he went to the a poor suburb on foot, and distributed some potions to the people he had once been part of. The rejected ones, the left over. The poorest of all, discarded by society.

With the old coat on, no exotic parrot, and a few coopers in his pockets to help people remember things – the best truth potion he knew on the docks! –, he left home, closed the door on a very disappointed Rainbow, and tried to remember his old life. Headed to the docks, he couldn’t help but feel a dull pain, a remnant of the loss of his brother, so many years ago. He walked to the docks, watched the boats and barges on the Thames, and felt like he had never left. Dockers worked on the cargos, and the smell was a strange mixture of spices, mud, dirty water, and sweat. It reminded him of his childhood. Like he thought, nobody seemed to notice him in his old plain coat, and he began asking about Old Ben Harlow. Some people wouldn’t let him finish a sentence, even if he still had the accent of the docks in his voice. But with a few coins, as he knew he would, he got some answers, and finally located Old Ben’s place.

In a narrow street near the docks themselves, there was a house. A decrepit, tumbledown old brick house, two stories high, with water dripping from the rooftop into the street. Allan didn’t politely knock on the door, he knew it was useless. Old Ben was said to be sleeping it off, and he wouldn’t answer a regular knock, so Allan pounded the door with a clenched fist, like he was trying to wake up the dead. For a few minutes, nothing happened, and Allan kept pounding, but his hand began to hurt. At long last, he heard the creaking of a door bolt, and the door cracked open, just enough for the resident to have a sneak peek at the visitor. Allan put his strong hand on the door to keep it from closing on him, and said: « Old Ben, I’d pay to hear that story of yours! Let me in so we can talk », and saying that, he spun a coin around his fingers, taunting the old man’s greed.

The door opened. Allan resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose at the smell that came from the man and room. With an easy smile, he gently pushed his way in, throwing the coin at the man, who caught it swiftly despite his age and seemingly poor condition. When the door closed behind him, Old Ben asked : « Who the hell are you to wake up a man at such an ungodly hour? ». It was eleven in the morning. Allan took a conspiratorial look, and said, in a lower voice: « I heard you had quite an adventure last night. I want to hear it all. I’ll give you more money if it’s a good one ». Old Ben seemed to hesitate, but when he saw another copper shine in the dim light of the day coming through the only window, he surrendered, and came to sit on an old chair, which squeaked under his weight. He waved Allan to the only other chair on the room, and the Woodwife sat with caution, afraid he would break it. Old Ben took a dirty glass and poured himself something that had to contain some alcoholic beverage of dubious origin. He didn’t offer a drink to Allan, but then, there was no other glass in sight, and Allan wanted to keep a clear head to hear what the old man had to say.

« Y’know that Hound n’ Hind pub, just next door? » Old Ben began. « Well it’s no more. It been crushed to the ground by some sorta weird monster. » He looked at Allan, obviously thinking the boy wouldn’t believe him. « You’re some kinda paperman? From the news? » he asked. Allan shook his head. « Nah, just a local boy being bored » Allan answered vaguely. Old Ben looked disappointed, but continued his story, which was about a strange man with glowing eyes asking about Woodwives (« them strange people in fancy cloaks » were his words) in the pub, very pressing. The trouble had begun when Young Bill Mason, whose sister was with a Woodwife, had asked why the stranger was asking. Old Ben stopped in his storytelling abruptly. His face went white. Allan pressed him, but he didn’t want to say more. The young man picked a few more coins from his pockets, and kept asking what had happened next.

Old Ben pocketed the coins and, reluctantly, tried to described the scene. « I didn’t see much. Every damn thing turn’d dark. Like, real dark, kinda solid dark. The stranger, he grinned, and it made us all shiver like he was the Devil himself ». Old Ben crossed himself, turning pale. He mumbled: « Maybe was the Devil himself, God save us! ». He stopped talking again, and seemed to be really frightened, and lost in some dark daydream, his eyes vague, his lips moving but no sound coming from them. Allan patted him on the shoulder, and poured him another glass from the unlabelled bottle. Old Ben drank it to the bottom in a long gulp, then seemed to regain some capacity of speech. « I don’t remember well… » he began, and Allan obliged and gave him two more coppers. Old Ben’s eyes lit. He began to realize how many coins he just earned. Maybe it was wise not to cross his new friend, who seemed very liberal with his money. « One more copper and I tell ya the whole story. And its helluva story, I swear ». Allan sighed. « It’s my last coin, Old Man. Can’t give you no more after that. Will have to beg for a supper tonight », he said to Ben, who seemed to understand, but still wanted said last copper. « Better you than me, pal. Wanna hear the story or nah? » he shrugged.

Allan feigned a great reluctance while taking another coin from his pocket, and gave it to Old Ben with a look of deep regret. The old man smiled a toothless grin. « There ya go. The monster – for it was a monster, no doubt! – made us all uneasy and uncomfy. I wanted to go, but I was stuck on me chair! Ya know, sum’times you’re stuck on chairs at the Hind n’ Hound, but usually it’s only leftover ale clingin’ on yar bottom. This was different. Couldn’t move at all. And the beast, he sprouted some damn antlers on its devil head, and we got real scared, ya ‘now, stuck with the Devil in that damn pub!It was dark ‘nuff n’ we had to listen to him, couldn’t even cover our ears. Said sumthin’ bout them strange people in cloaks having to be warned, that their masters were comin’ or sumthin’ like that. Tried to not listen, ya know. But it stuck anyhoo. ’t was that: » and then, Old Ben’s voice seemed to change, he lost his accent, and his eyes went almost void. He quoted, as if from the Beast’s mouth itself, sending shivers of fear to Allan’s skin: « Tell them we are coming. Tell them their masters have a message for them, and that if they are wise, they will listen. ». He didn’t seem to notice at all he was telling that in a different voice than his, and he continued his tale without pausing: « Then comes the weirdest part. He changed. Turned into a freaking deer! Not only the antlers, the whole stuff! ’N jumped out the damn window, shatterin’ it to pieces. Stomped the tables too. Tore the whole room apart. Whatta misery. » Old Ben sighed, and shivered at the memory. « I for sure ain’t gonna put no foot in that pub for a while », he concluded.

Allan hid his fear under a fake smile. There were way too much details in that story for it to be made up by some drunkard. Plus, there was the fact that everyone in town seemed to want badly to avoid contact with Woodwives. He thanked the man, shook his wrinkled, dry hand, and showed himself out, leaving Old Ben Harlow with enough money to drink himself to death if he ever found a new pub. Allan had spent too much money, he knew that, but he thought it was worth it, because the warning had to be taken seriously. He would stay out of the Wood for a long time. He had to warn Victor and Vera to stay put too. Even if none of them was Woodtouched, they could be targeted by some Lords of the Woods anyway. And that, he didn’t want to happen. Like, ever.

When he headed home for a light meal, Allan decided that he would avoid getting out unless absolutely necessary. He paid a street boy to deliver a letter to Victor’s workshop and Vera’s house, explaining the whole thing to them and warning them to stay put. Then he went to the grocery store, bought as much canned food he could afford and some ale to go with it, then he locked himself inside his apartment, not knowing if he would dare to get out anytime soon.
Allan - Inn and out - June prompt
My entry for :iconwoodwives:'s June prompt about the big warning received by Woodwives indirectly. 
Allan, Victor and Vera are my characters from the group, Billy is from the prompt text, and Old Ben Harlow is a courtesy of :iconasmodeus-grims: when I was looking for witnesses' names. ;) 
I'm sorry if he seems to speak weirdly. I'm not very good at writing down accents. And he's drunk. :XD: 
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For some time now, Vera had been keeping her ouija board under lock and key, in an iron box, to prevent the potential mixing of magics between it and her Woodwife stuff. She couldn’t stop thinking about her strange experience, her supernatural encounter, no less than a ghost, a real one. Asa Badner obsessed her, but she was too shaken by her latest encounter to go back right away. She had tried to do some researching on him, but so far, she had only found out that he was known to throw extravagant parties and be the favorite gossip of the high society, until he died quite suddenly. But the society was strangely quiet about the way he had died. Even seemed relieved to be rid of him at the time. Maybe he had been too exuberant for them? What could he possibly have done wrong? He seemed like a rich, literate man, who liked to spend his money with liberality. She could learn nothing more but strange speculations about him being a wizard of sorts, which made no sense unless he had been a Woodwife, Mage or Sorcerer, which she wasn’t convinced of.

The thing was, Vera couldn’t let the box alone. She kept coming back at it, wanting to go back, and talk more with the ghost. She had kept him a secret, because she knew Woodwives didn’t like Aetheric Magic, and a Mage could be alarmed by the presence of a ghost. They didn’t seem to like untamed Aether. And that was what Vera thought of a ghost. Asa Badner. Now that they had exchanged names and a few words, he was more real than just any ghost. She couldn’t let him be exorcised or something. So she avoided the place for a while, all for the best, since the Circus was busy elsewhere, and Antef seemed to be unavailable.

One day, when she opened the closet where she stored the box, she noticed something was off. Somehow, an Aetheric glow that had not showed before emanated from the box, and kind of swirled. It was similar to what she saw around Mages, but not exactly. It was less defined and precise, messier maybe. Surprised at this sight, Vera took the box from the closet and opened it. Inside, the ouija board she had so much trouble to find was in a strange state. Magic was glittering around it, then gone in a flinch, then sparkling again, like it had a life of its own. It was when Vera decided to go back to the Badner estate and meet “her” ghost again. This time, she would go alone. She decided she needed to see inside the house, and considering the poor state of the garden, she decided to bring some dusters.

It was early afternoon when Vera reached the Badner estate. While the lawn had begun growing again, you could still see that the garden had been tended to. In the flowerbeds, wild flowers were still blooming, even though it was nearly summer. Vera went straight to the main door, the one that had been broken by some disrespectful fellows some time ago. She knocked, cracked the door open, and said aloud: “Mr. Badner? It’s Vera Vintersdotter, remember? I come in.” She couldn’t wait for an answer until she had displayed the ouija board, so she let herself in, and closed the door behind her. As she had expected, it was all dusty. She passed the hallway, and went to the nearest door. It was a kind of living room, with a sofa, some shelves with a few books, a table and a fireplace.

She began dusting the place as well as she could, taking her time. In order to do so, she had let the board on the main table. As she was cleaning up the place, she began to feel something. At first, she thought it was some static electricity from all her scrubbing, but soon enough, she began seeing sparkles of gold from the corner of her eyes, like before. She finished her dusting, opening a window to let some fresh air in, when she noticed the planchette of the board was suddenly on the mantle, when she was certain she had left it on the table. She took it and put it on the board again, then she bent over the window to shake most of the dust from her cloth, and when she turned back, she saw for certain a swirling of gold next to the couch. She looked at the board. The planchette was missing again. She found it laying, as casually as a self-moving planchette could, on the end table near the sofa. Her ghost host was definitely here, and playful.

Vera took the board and planchette, and went to seat on the couch. She noticed an Aetheric activity on her left as she did so. When the board was firmly set on her lap, she finally said: “Well, hello, Mr. Badner. How have you been?” For some time, nothing happened. But after a while, the planchette moved, and spelled “I’m here”. Well, she had guessed so. At least he was willing to talk. “Do you feel different from the last time we talked?” She asked, because she couldn’t help but think about the changes the ouija board had showed. Another pause, then the spelling began anew. « Busier » was Asa’s answer. Vera wasn’t surprised. He felt busier. Like some life had returned into his aetherical form. Which wasn’t possible, of course. Or was it? Vera wondered.

Excited about the talkative and playful mood of the ghost, Vera wanted to know more about him. She asked about his favorite room in the house. « The library » was the answer. She naturally asked about his favorite book in consequence. Two names were spelled : Austen and Byron. Vera knew about them. She was sure she had seen one of their books in that very room, while she dusted. She got up, placing the ouija board on the end table, and went to the shelves, where she found a miscellany of Lord Byron’s poems. She picked the book, blew the remaining dust off, and browsed the pages with care. She chose a poem she liked, and began reading it aloud, in a slow, deep voice. It was a text titled Prometheus she rather liked. « The wretched gift Eternity was thine », she read, and thought briefly of the irony, but she kept reading until the end of the poem. Okay, maybe Byron was not made to lighten the mood. But she had seen aetheric flickers calm down in the room while she read, and she was quite sure Asa had been reading from behind her shoulder. She flapped the book close, and put it back in its place on the shelf.

Vera returned to the couch, put the board back on her lap, and asked: « Mr. Badner, I forgot to ask you last time, and it was rude of me, but do you need me to carry a message to someone, or do something for you, when I leave your home? ». Answer came quickly, the planchette pointing to « No », then spelling « no one ». It made Vera feel sad, all the sudden. It was probably very lonely, here. No visits except for rude trespassers making fun of the « haunted house », and no one to care about. While she was dreamingly lost in her thoughts, the board sparkled gold, and the planchette began to move. She was surprised, for she had asked nothing. Slowly, but with decision, it spelled a question for her : « Where did you get this? »

« Do you mean the ouija board ? » Vera asked back, in a burst of surprise. Until now, the ghost had never questioned their mean of communication. The planchette moved to « yes ». But what Vera saw was so much more than that. She was sure - pretty sure! - she had seen the outline of a hand, pale gray and translucent, moving the planchette. She was speechless for a moment. She had seen the ghost’s hand! It was so very exciting! She had a strange feeling as the ghost began to pace in the room, at least as far as she could tell, since she only saw waves of golden aether moving to and fro. She suddenly remembered he had asked a question, and she answered aloud, giving the name of the place, The Shimmering Crystal, and describing it vaguely as a strange shop in a dark alley. Since the ghost, even after a while, didn’t seem to react to her words, and continuously paced, she insisted: « Is there a problem? ». For a moment, there was no answer. Then she sensed that the aetheric form stopped on its tracks, and the planchette began to move again. « I don’t know », the ghost spelled on the board. All the sudden, Vera was concerned. Had she done something wrong? Was Asa Badner in danger because of her? She immediately assured him that she had told no one about him or about the board, and she kept the board concealed. But there was no response to that. She felt him, knew he was still there, but it was like he was also elsewhere, in mind. After a short time, she guessed that he needed time to think. She announced her intention to leave him to his thoughts, said her goodbyes in the most polite manner she knew, and asked if she could come and visit again some time. She waited the usual suspended moment when the ghost was about to answer, but seemed to hesitate, every time she asked a question. Soon enough, Asa pointed the planchette to « Yes » and then spelled « goodbye ». Vera got up with a full smile. She was officially welcome into the house! She felt honored as she left the place, carefully closing the window, then the door on her way out.

If someone had seen Vera coming home that evening, they would have believed she was twenty years younger. She was so excited her eyes shone bright. She carefully placed the ouija board and planchette back in the box, locked them inside and hid the box in her secret closet. She decided to keep the key with her, and added it to the necklace she always wore, concealed under her clothes. There was absolutely no way she would risk her friendship with the ghost by sharing what she had seen and lived. Unable to sleep at all, she picked a French book in her own shelf, a worn copy of a collection from Théophile Gautier’s short stories, and began reading « La Cafetière » (The Coffee Pot), a fantastic story featuring the haunted room of a house. Maybe one day she would write her own short story about ghosts, now that she had first hand experience? On that thought, she fell asleep, dreaming of a tea party in the Badner Estate. Most of the attendants were ghosts.
Vera - The ghost friend (june prompt)
Vera Vintersdotter is my character from the :iconwoodwives: group. She's interacting with Asa Badner, the ghost, who is :iconxaotl:'s character, after a little RP we did for the June prompt of the group. 
It's only logical that Vera is the one jumping to the occasion to see what happens, when there is the slightest sign of change from the Badner Estate. 
All 3 prompts of June can be found here: fav.me/dcd51qh (this is for prompt 3). 
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All my characters from the :iconwoodwives:'s group with their related pics and text (made by me or someone else, follow the links) now ordered for an easier navigation. :) 


Brunehault Greywald:

- Character Sheet :
Lady of thorns concept entry - BrunehaultName: Brunehault
Sex: Female
Age: 13 (before her training) - 18 (after her training)
Background: Lady Brunehault Greywald was raised as a proper young noble girl, for she was the daughter of a baron. As such, she learned how to be a lady, how to drink her tea without spilling it, how to be always elegant and fashionable. But above all, as the eldest girl of the family, she was to do a proper mariage with a nobleman. Her two lovely younger sisters didn’t care as much as her. The heir to the title was some unbearably smug cousin of her, and her father wanted her to marry him as soon as possible, because he wanted the title and fortune to stay in the family. But she loathed the boy.
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Green
Stage: Woodwife
Familiar: Abyssinian (Lady Rose)
Truth: « A rose without its thorns is no longer a rose. » (= You have to accept every being as it is)
History:
Brunehault Greywald was a young girl when her family decided to marry her to her distant cousin Percy, heir of

- Early life :
Brunehault 01 - Wood TouchedShe had cried for hours, running until she couldn’t breathe at all. The forest had deepened, and, even if she knew where to go to get back home, for she had followed a track, she didn’t want to. She suffered a bad case of hysteria, her rational mind told her. But she couldn’t help it, it was unbearable to be engaged to that Percy boy. He was a pest, a spoiled brat who liked to hurt people and animals. She had seen him beat a horse to the blood not one year ago. She had to stop him or the horse would never have recovered. Even then, this particular mare didn’t let anyone approach her but Brune herself. She had a gift with horses. Her mother called her a « Centauride » whatever it meant.
But just now, she didn’t feel like riding. She needed a rest.
Noticing the great oak tree at her left, she leaned on it, thoughtful. Why would her father do that? Weren’t there other noblemen to marry her? Her father wanted the estate to stay within

Brunehault 02 - Cast outIt was several days now since Brunehault had returned from the Wood. Her father’s anger didn’t seem to diminish one bit. Her mother weeped all day about her « lost » daughter, and how she had condemned her sisters to eternal celibacy. She made her wear gloves all the time, didn’t want to see the « mark » on her hand. Her sisters were taken aback, but didn’t turn their backs on her. That was a relief. Radagund, 11, and Mahault, 8, were her sole joy left. That, and the long hours she spent riding the traumatized mare she had saved from Percy. Her sisters had asked a million questions about her « change », how it happened, how she felt, and did her hand hurt. She had answered trustfully, even if she had wanted badly to change the subject. No, it didn’t hurt. Yes, it felt weird. And she told them about talking bushes and the dangers of the Wood. Some servants, who knew about Wood magic from legends, h
Brunehault 03 - The ApprenticeshipBrunehault was working with Fredgund for weeks. She felt more like she was working -for- Fredgund, because she hadn’t learn many things and did only exhausting uninteresting tasks. Fredgund was only 23, but she sounded like an old hag when she gave Brune her orders. And there was this silly bird. The greenfinch was always watching when she was at work, like a spy. Did she stop working a minute to catch her breath, Fredgund always knew it and scolded her like she was a child. It was like she had become a slave.
Week after week, she weeded the parcels around the hut, letting only grow the weeds and herbs Fredgund wanted. She had made mistakes at the beginning, but now she had a sample of each useful plant dried for her to check when she was unsure. It was a good thing, for she had trouble remembering them at first. Ir became easier with time. She also had to do stupid things, like boil water for tea, always burning her soft skin on the metal handle of the kettle. Why would someone

Brunehault 04 - Woodwife to beOver the months, Brune had come to like Fredgund. She had a gift for teaching things. Brunehault now knew how to make potions to fix people with the flu, or some other small diseases. She was proud of it. She also knew how to weave, and was good at it. She had already learnt how to sew and embroider when she was… well, when she still had a family name. But the wool she had never tried before, and it was fun. Except for the dyeing part. That part was always smelly and disgusting. But when it was done, the wool had beautiful shiny colors. Brune had been able to make new dresses, and Fred granted her the right to be all feminine and ladylike with fancy clothes as long as she worked hard on the other tasks at hand. The girl had found out she had a talent against bugs, fleas, ticks and other noxious insects. She knew they were useful sometimes, but let them be useful somewhere else. She could brew powerful repellents. Now that she had Lady Rose to remind her to be patient and to cuddl
Brunehault 05 - The CloakBrune was 17 now. She was a pretty young woman, and her bound with Fredgund was stronger than ever. She was like a big sister, now that Brunehault had learnt most of the Woodwives’ tricks to cure and protect people. But Brune still couldn’t cope with her differences. She was like no other. Not a lady, not a real wood girl, not a farmer like the people she helped. What was she?
One night, she had a vivid dream. It was like she was looking at herself. Like really looking. She saw a beautiful woman with a dashing aura of kindness, watching pictures of her own past passing before her eyes and fading. She was so absorbed by the sight she didn’t even notice the good she was doing. Mourning her past was refusing to let it go, and as she gripped it tight, the past was keeping her away from her true self. In the dream, she saw her hand entwined with beautiful vines, full of thorns, that moved slowly, calmly around her arm, with a peace she had never felt. Her dream-self

Brunehault 06 - The StewardshipOver the months, Brune had not made many friends amongst the young Woodwives in the Heart. She felt different, for most of them were from low extraction and mocked her haughtiness and pride. They called her a « Rich girl playing to be a Woodwife » and, despite the seeming disdain she showed them, she felt bad. It hurt her to be the target of mockery. Were they not nearly adults? Should they not behave as such? Her comrades didn’t seem to think so, at least some of them. Yet she didn’t overdress, she had kept her fancy clothes into her trunk, and wore only the cheaper ones. But her manners she couldn’t disguise. She didn’t like the same things than the other girls, and spent most of her time off tending to the plants. At least they didn’t blame her for what she was. Not everyone had seen her Truth, it seemed, and it was a good thing she had accepted it before her stewardship, for she wouldn’t have survived in the Heart witho
- Present life:
Brunehault 00 - The Little Red Riding HoodNight was dark, absent moon to light it. Even the dim glow of stars didn’t go through the thick foliage of the forest. The creature lurked in the wood, looking for its next prey. Its abundant black fur crawled on its skin as a slight breeze washed over it. It was a wolf, one of the big ones. A lonely male wolf the size of a small pony, with a powerful jaw and cunning eye. Those hadn’t been seen this close to human houses for a very long time, when winters were harsh and shepherds died along the flocks they intended to protect. Nowadays, common wolves stayed deep into the Wood, far from humans and their guns, and the big old wolves had nearly disappeared. In the old times, The Hunt had taken most of them, and when the humans began to eat at the forest, The Hunt, the game and the old wolves had made themselves scarce. This one shouldn’t even be there at all. It was odd. Something was up. But the black lonely beast didn’t care, and it was hungry for blood. It had c
Brunehault - Prompt PendrygBrunehault had reached the Heart, and Snow was resting in the stables. She had taken time to drink a cup of tea from the kitchen before she tried to reach the Lords to tell them about the beast. But she didn't have time to do so, because she hadn't finished sipping her cup of tea when she heard noise outside. She got out to find a boy - a human boy! - had entered the Heart. And he was not alone. He was with Dragon. Dragon was Robert Pendryg’s familiar. She knew the young man from the time of her stewardship in the Heart. He was of noble extraction, and had came to her defense once in a while, when stupid boys had harassed her for being what she was: a well groomed girl with manners. She kind of like Robert. He was civilized enough, and that was refreshing. She hurried at the boy’s side and listened to his story. What? Children taken? Robert in a potentially mortal danger? She couldn't sit on her hands while this happened. She had heard of the Liam Quigley rumble, during her
Brunehault - The Rescue PartyAs she arrived to the camp, seeking help and looking for the blue-haired girl, Brunehault was interrupted by a young Woodwife with a dog. Without even introducing herself, she asked what she needed the blue-haired Woodwife for. Startled at the sudden voice addressing her, Brune didn’t answer right away. But she was in a hurry, and couldn’t afford to be picky. She tried to explain the whole problem, with Robert Pendryg missing and her thinking she could have found him. But she was still under the effects of an adrenaline rush, and she sounded hysterical. She breathed and calmed down. She introduced herself to the newcomer, who was, it appeared, quite a pretty young woman dressed in a bizarre fashion for a lady. Her clothes were very neat, though, and that was a good point. She hadn’t met a sloppy and messy Woodwife she couldn’t get along with.
She searched the Heart for blue hairs, gazing around, but she saw none. She heard a dog whuffing and saw that Lady Rose a

Brunehault - The Daring EscapeBrunehault and Artemisia were trapped into a house swarming with goblins. The worst thing was it was a stone house, so Brune was completely, utterly powerless. How could she have rushed into that trap? Clearly, her best judgment was not available at that time. But then, Robert…
She held the cloak tight with one hand, the other grasping her little knife. Lady Rose came to lean against her left leg, a tiny red ball of fury, as her hairs bristled and she hissed like a snake. Brune stood her ground, and felt Artemisia searching her pockets for something she didn’t seem to find. A first goblin jumped at Brune’s face. She slashed her knife the best she could, and missed the goblin, but gave it a good fright, as it fell down near her feet in a desperate attempt not to be stabbed. It squawked. Lady Rose clawed at a goblin which had tried to close on them. It bled nastily and retreated. Brune heard a howling, probably a canine, from outside. Orion replied. Then several other h

Brunehault - The meetingArty and Brune had made it to the Heart safely. They had settled on waiting for Diane in some comfy chairs that were outside the cottages for the use of Woodwives who didn't like being indoors. They had talked about the recent events: their escape from the trap the goblins had set on them, their meeting with Diane, and above all, the "star-tattoo" matter. Artemisia seemed very concerned that Brunehault got that little bright star on the palm of her hand all the sudden, and knew were Diane was and if she was well. But Brune felt good. She loved the new feeling she got from that. She didn't feel lonely anymore. Not that it had been a lonely evening, not with Arty at her side. She trusted Arty, who had saved her life. But the feeling inside her eased a pain she felt for years. A loss. She felt like she was belonging to something again. At last. She tried to explain that feeling to Arty, as she had began to call her, but the Woodwife didn't seem to like it. That saddened Brune a bit.
When

Brunehault - Flowery dreamsBrune had had trouble to find her sleep. She had turned a long time in her bed, not knowing what was bothering her. When she finally fell asleep, one could have assumed things were going to get better. They did not. When she only sought rest, she found terror and anguish. She was back to the forest near her father’s estate, where she had fled when her engagement to her hated cousin had been announced. She saw it, the Wood Woad, the hawthorn, with a piece of her skin covering one of its branches. She wanted to run away from it, from the bad memories and the awful consequences of that evening. But an unknown, powerful force dragged her nearer to the bush, slowly but inescapably. She was pulled toward it and fought to escape, but she finally got so close she could feel the leafs and thorns of the bush. She eventually got swallowed by it, surrounded by thorny twigs and white roses.
She panicked and screamed for help  but no one seemed to hear her supplications, not even Diane, w

Brunehault - Deadly dreamsBrunehault woke up suddenly. She was back in her cottage, all sweaty and breathless. What a vivid nightmare it had been! Lady Rose, who usually was sitting next to her when she slept, wasn't here. She had a moment of panic, but then she felt her beloved familiar. She was back in the Heart, probably because that was the exact place where Brune's body had been magically transported by a vicious creature who had weakened her and other Woodwives through nightmares for weeks. How did Lady Rose get to the Heart alone was a mystery. Maybe Moonlight, Diane's familiar, helped her? It was the most probable option. Brune realized she could feel Diane again too. That was a relief. But also, it was kind of annoying. During the nightmare, Brune had felt helpless a long time. People, like Robert, and even Diane, had talked about her like she hadn't been present. Robert had been quite rude, which wasn't his normal behavior, but then, the situation had been far from normal. They thought, at first, that
Diane and Brune - Christmas feastA morning of early December, Brune was brewing some potions when she heard Snow whine. She was about to get out and see what disturbed the stallion, when someone knocked at her door. Only then she felt Diane’s presence. She had been so buried in her work that she hadn’t noticed it before then. She went to the door and opened it, smiling at Diane.
“Hello, Diane, Moonlight. Please come in.”
She waved toward the inside of her tidy little cottage, and her guests came in. Diane took a chair, and looked around. Moonlight smelt the brew with curiosity.
“Please wait a moment, I have to take that potion off the fire, I think it’s ready”, Brunehault said. And so she did. When she was done, she came and sat on a chair, Lady Rose jumping on her lap. “So, Diane, what brings you to my home?” she asked in a soft tone. She didn’t need any babysitting, now that she was better at taking care of herself. Diane knew that, so she must have had a r

-Wardrobe:
WoodWife003-Lady Of Thorns- (Nefermeritaset) by xaotl
Brunehault-masquerade by Nefermeritaset
Brunehault - Yuletide event dress by Nefermeritaset



Diane Rosing:
- Character sheet:
Woodwife sheet - DianeName: Diane Rosing.
Sex: Female
Age: 12 (beginning) -22 (meeting Brune)
Background: Diane was the only daughter of the keeper of a lord’s castle. Her father, Jup Rosing, was a widower since she was 3, so they were everything to each other. He took her when he helped the Lord with his hunting parties, and she learnt early not to be afraid of death. But she was very shy and didn’t like to be around people, for she was not good at socializing. Only her father knew how to make her talk, and only when they were alone.
Then she got Wood Touched and the Lord of the Castle learnt about it and commanded her father to send her away, giving him money for his silence. Her father considered the option of running away with her, but he knew she was at risk to be hunted down for witchcraft, so he reluctantly gave her up, to the caring arms of the Woodwife who had helped her to see the light. She had to go, and only saw her daddy in secret from times to times. Th

- Early life:
Diane 01 - Wood TouchedDiane was hiding from the numerous people who had invaded the Lord’s Castle today. There was a hunting party scheduled on the next day, and she knew she wouldn’t escape this, because her father always insisted on her attending those events. But for now, she couldn’t cope with the sudden arrival of people, especially the servants who were temporarily staying with them, due to the lack of rooms for servants in the main house. Only the Lord’s servants lived here, and the Rosings had to shelter the guests’ crews. That was ominous. She hated it. So, as soon as she had managed, she had fled to the wood, where she was sure nobody would follow her. She would return at nightfall, or her father would worry, and she certainly didn’t want that. Her father was always concerned with her, since her mother died, 9 years ago. That’s when she stopped babbling and talking to anyone but her father. The servants and the Lord thought she was mute. Well, let them thi
Diane 02 - The Lost PuppyDiane was with Sybil for months. She had only seen her dad twice during this time, in secret, and missed him direly. Sybil was a nice woman, but she could never be her dad. She tried hard, though. She explained all the tasks to do with patience, corrected the wrong moves without yelling once. She was all sweet. But she insisted on Diane’s coming with her when she toured some of the villages where nobody knew the girl. And that made her very unhappy, for people around were staring and pointed their fingers at Sybil when she entered the village, and Diane was now « the Freak’s apprentice » too. When she hid her hair with a piece of clothes, though, nobody seemed to notice her physical abnormality. Her golden eyes were considered as « brown eyes in which the sun reflects beautifully » or something like that. But she still couldn’t manage to talk to strangers. Only Sybil and her dad. So she was regarded as mute by all the villagers.
Diane 03 - One o cloakSince she had found her familiar, Diane was more self-confident, and came more willingly with Sybil to help the local villagers. She even began to actually talk to them – when addressed to – with monosyllabic words like « yes » or « no ». As Sybil said, that was a beginning. Small victories were to be celebrated.
Diane was 14 when Sybil decided it was time for her to learn how to sew her own clothes. The girl had begun to show signs of womanhood, and her old rags didn’t fit anymore. Sybil showed Diane all the steps: how to collect the wool from the sheeps, how to prepare it, how to dye it, how to transform it into a piece of clothing. She also taught her how to embroider (tricky part, this one… Diane got her fingers pierced by needles many times, before she came to understand how it worked), and even how to use other materials, like linen they bought at the market, or wooden pearls she could carve herself. It w

Diane 04 - The Alfa StewardThe day Diane arrived in the Heart to begin her stewardship, she knew it would be a hard year. There were so many people. The camp was buzzing with activity. Several dogs were around. Moonlight was tense. He fought his instincts, for there was a doe just next to them. A damn doe! And it was not for eating. She was a girl’s familiar. Why would anyone need a doe as a familiar? This was crazy. No wonder the girl herself smelled like prey. She reeked of fear. All the sudden, she shrieked like a scared mouse. Diane sneered. Come on, it was just a boy staring. Was not even impressive. Well. He body wasn't. But he sure knew how to dress up. Diane had no time to ponder. A big guy spoke in the dandy’s ear, and then the boy forced a laugh and left in a hurry. Well. That looked kind of insecure. But then he did the right thing, for Diane hadn't like a bit what the big guy had said. He called her « Beauty and the Beast ». Apparently she was both. This was offensive.
- Present life:
Diane - Prompt PendrygDiane and Moonlight were strolling in the Wood under a bright moon. It was quite a quiet night, and all the small creatures with a nocturnal activity were very busy. The forest was full of small noises. Bats were flying around, following their preys. Diane liked to follow their erratic movements with her eyes, but it was a tiring hobby and she couldn't stay long in focus. She liked those walks, when they had no worries and were completely absorbed by the night activities. They surveyed their territory, as the Alfa couple of their own tiny pack. Moonlight enjoyed the mix of scents, and occasionally they both went running after a rabbit or a doe which ventured into their boundaries unknowingly. The chase was more playful than serious, for they were not in their hunting mode. They had fed before, from the delicious deer they had caught two days ago. Raw meat was their favorite, something they couldn't afford to eat when they were in society. Cooked meat was nice too, but it lacked the sav
Diane - Sequel Prompt Pendryg - Fee-fi-fo-fumFrom her observation point, Diane didn’t see the front door of the house. She saw the rear and the barn. She waited quite a long time when something finally happened. In the barn, horses began to whine, and there was a female voice calling from the inside. Something seemed unnatural about that voice, but Diane couldn’t nail it. A man, quite big judging by the sound of his steps, exited the house and went into the barn. The woman called him again, and then, the door was slammed shut and barred. How odd. But she had no business interfering with other people’s affairs. She smelled two women, a feline, a dog, and the man in the barn. Nothing abnormal here.
After a short while, though, there were moves all around the house, and even inside. Scuttling noises and muffled voices came to her ears, and even a cackling giggle from a non-human mouth. Goblins. Dozens of them. They seemed to converge to the house. What were they doing there? There were people in that house! Diane d

Diane - About goblin poetryDiane was in a cottage, surrounded by Moonlight and three other wolves who had answered her call. She sat in the only chair in the room, holding a goblin on her lap like it was a misbehaving boy she had to scowl. The goblin looked - and smelled - terrified. « Don't fret little guy. We’re not gonna eat you. Yet. » she said with a smile who showed too much teeth. « Just tell me what I want to know, for I don't like to be kept in the dark. » The goblin shivered and held some tears. He asked:
« What is it you need to know,
Pray, that I will gladly show? »
Now what? A goblin who spoke in rhymes? Diane had thought it was only legend. Maybe fear made him return to an old habit? She had no time to find out. She had to get answers.
« Who is this Mr. Quigley and why do you work for him? » she finally asked.
« Human is Mister Quigley.
But at heart like us ugly,
He works for the Goblins Queen,
His Conso

Diane - Trust issuesThe pack was following the lead of the goblin into the Misty Paths. It felt like a very long distance. Diane was getting angry. Surely this was - not - the shortest way to the prisoner Woodwife. Moonlight began to snarl at the goblin, who hastened his walk. He was almost running when they got out the Misty Paths, into a clearing Diane didn’t know. She didn’t even have a clue as to their current location. What was this place? It looked like it was no England anymore. She frowned. « Where did you lead us, you tricky little jerk? » she asked the goblin. The creature didn’t answer, only waved them to follow in the open. Diane and the pack were on his heels, not willing to let him escape. What trickery was that again? The ground looked odd. Like a marsh of some kind. It smelled bad, too. Clods of wild grass made the walking uneasy. And then, all the sudden, Diane felt the ground sink under her feet. She was going into the ground! « Stop him!
Diane - The Strange case of Mr. PendrygDiane had finished her traking charm in no time, but Brune had yet to complete her tonic potion, and Artemisia had not come back with the wake-up potion. Diane’s impatience grew, and she began pacing inside the building, unhappy to wait. When Brune completed her tonic, Arty arrived with her potion. Everyone took what they needed to go on, and left. Diane had placed a tracker on Robert’s coat when Brune still had it. She was not sure why, but she had a feeling it could be useful. But for now, using a tracker on Luna seemed more relevant. They headed to the girl’s cottage, and Diane knew she wasn’t going to be in it. She said so, and when she opened the door, she was proven right. The darn girl had left without waiting for them. She cursed, and began to track her by smell. It was not too difficult, for the girl hadn’t tried to conceal her tracks, and Diane could even read the ground to know where she had gone. For a while, it worked, and they travelled the M
Diane - Flowery Dreams part 2Diane was worried. Earlier this night, she had felt Brune’s distress, and had run to her. She sensed pain, anguish, panic, and a plea for help. She had feared the worst, and by the time she had reached the remote cottage of her friend, she stormed into the house, relieved that the door was unlocked. Only to find Brune asleep. Asleep, yes, but caught in some sort of evil nightmare she couldn’t escape from. Lady Rose was anxious to wake her, but didn’t manage to do it. She was sitting on Brune’s chest, and Moonlight joined her, resting his head and paws on the young Woodwife. Diane didn’t know what to do, Brune was struggling in her dream, sweating, moaning. But she suddenly woke up, and seemed to be really confused. The worst part was when she has screamed at the top of her lungs at the sight of a beautiful black rose that was on the floor, as if someone had tossed it here. It took Diane a long time to calm Brune down, and she had to put the rose in a box,
Diane - Venomous roses (prompt sequel)It had been days since Diane had seen Kiara, a fellow Woodwife, to try to solve the mystery of the nightmares and the velvet black roses. They had found out the roses were completely identical to each other, and one appeared every night they had a nightmare. Apart from that, they had both tried all the tricks, charms and spells they knew, all for nothing. It was infuriating. But Diane was feeling so bad that she felt the furor comforting in a way: it kept her alive and almost kicking, when all she could have felt otherwise would have been despair.
It had worsened. Every single time she had tried to sleep, even with a sleeping potion or some herb supposed to suppress dreams, she had ended up caught in that same atrocious nightmare, where she was helpless, surrounded by hostile people, threatened, and even beaten. She couldn't fight such a powerful force of untamed violence, that was engulfing her and trying to suffocate her. She felt a tight knot inside her chest, and sometimes wanted t

Diane - The nightmare before HalloweenDiane woke up with a start. She was in her hut. But Moonlight was missing. Was she still trapped in that nightmare? Were was the filthy creature that pretended they shifted the balance of things in favor of the Wood? She was darn sure she hadn’t. The creature had accused them of dealing with creatures of the Wood to gain more power. Well, sorry to point out the lie on your sweet tale, horrible bony creature, but Diane had never agreed to be Wood Touched. The whole thing had been an accident.
She looked around. No Luna. No cottage. No Moonlight, either, but she could feel him again! He was in the Heart! And he was so relieved to feel her too! She had to get dressed and go to him quickly. She wanted to feel his fur and his warmth. She missed him very much. She had to find him before he decided to come and find her. First, the clothes. She was tired of being naked. From now on, she swore she would only sleep on her cloak, and never again naked. People who messed with dreams were too

Diane and Brune - Christmas feastA morning of early December, Brune was brewing some potions when she heard Snow whine. She was about to get out and see what disturbed the stallion, when someone knocked at her door. Only then she felt Diane’s presence. She had been so buried in her work that she hadn’t noticed it before then. She went to the door and opened it, smiling at Diane.
“Hello, Diane, Moonlight. Please come in.”
She waved toward the inside of her tidy little cottage, and her guests came in. Diane took a chair, and looked around. Moonlight smelt the brew with curiosity.
“Please wait a moment, I have to take that potion off the fire, I think it’s ready”, Brunehault said. And so she did. When she was done, she came and sat on a chair, Lady Rose jumping on her lap. “So, Diane, what brings you to my home?” she asked in a soft tone. She didn’t need any babysitting, now that she was better at taking care of herself. Diane knew that, so she must have had a r

- Wardrobe:
Woodwife: The Lady and theWolf- (Nefermeritaset) by xaotl
Diane Masquerade by Nefermeritaset
Diane - Halloween Dress - Evil Queen by Nefermeritaset
Diane - 3 Dresses by Nefermeritaset
Diane - Yuletide festival dress by Nefermeritaset

Victor O'Finnegan:
- Character sheet:
Victor O Finnegan character sheetName: Victor O’Finnegan
Sex: Male
Age: 22 (same as Diane)
Background: Victor was born in an Irish family in a village near Cork, South Ireland. His father was a toy maker named Conall O’Finnegan, and his mother Kelly raised the 4 boys, Victor being the youngest. They didn’t exactly lack money but were never rich either. Victor envied the rich noble boys he saw when they travelled to Cork, and he always dreamed to live near the city.
He has the Sight since he was born, but it was only when he was 12 and still saw magic everywhere and continuously played tricks that his parents began to feel concerned about him. « Grow up », his bully brothers said. But he didn’t think fairies were a kid’s thing at all. One day he got sick, and his parents had to ask the local Woodwife for help because he was not getting better. It was then that the Woodwife acknowledged that Victor had the Sight and had to be trained as a Wood

-Early life:
Victor - 01 - A playful child« Victor? Where are you again? », his mother’s voice called from the house. Hiding behind a fountain, Victor didn’t answer. He was busy, dammit! He was crafting a new cool thing to play a trick on Bran, his elder brother, who had stolen his collection of wood chips again. Dad gave him those chips for a reason, didn’t he? He knew Victor was a craftsman at heart. And that made Bran, and all his brothers, jealous. So they played hard on him. Bullied him even. Victor had no choice but to retaliate with his own tools. He wrapped up the seemingly normal spoon and got back to the house, hiding the altered object behind his back. It was lunch time. Swiftly, he changed Bran’s spoon for this one. No one noticed, he had such fast hands after all.
His mother gave him a scowl. « Go wash your hands and hurry. Call your brothers, lunch is ready. It will get cold. » Victor didn’t wait too long before obeying his mother’s order

Victor 02 - The Lost BoyCork was quite a big city for a young boy from a small town. It was a fascinating place to be. Victor was all eyes, as he walked with his family in the crowded streets. It was shopping time. Once in a month, they all went to the city to get what you couldn’t have easily in their smaller town. Some things were for his father’s work, others for his mother. They also bought new clothes in there when their own became too old. At least Doug, the eldest, got new clothes. And then he passed them to Bran. Who in turn gave them to Luke. Who handled them to Victor when they were too small for him. Victor had never had new clothes on his life. That’s why he stopped in his tracks when he saw the frontage of a tailor, garnished with fantastic clothes whose like he had never seen before. How delightful! There were vivid colors, and rich garments, and canes with golden or silver knobs, and leather gloves, and shiny pins, and… where on hearth were his parents? Victor looked sur
Victor 03 - That which we call a violetVictor had trouble getting used to his new life. Sure, Marsha was nice to him, and he had no more bully brothers to think about, but the forest? He was not sure about that. It made him uncomfortable. He was a town boy, and happened to go to the wood sometimes to pick logs, but it was a different thing to spend some hours in the forest, and to actually live in it. The cottage was comfy, though. A large fireplace, two beds (Marsha’s and her old apprentice’s who was now a Woodwife herself), even armchairs! Victor had been relieved when he had discovered the cottage was no savage hut. He had feared something creepy near a marsh or a stinky pond, because of the toad, you know. But it wasn’t like that. Sure, there was water, because of the spring whose waters flowed into a small steam. The toad, whose name was Tony, enjoyed taking his bath in the current. It was convenient in fact, like having water at your doorstep. Almost like the plumbing he had heard about, that gave wa
Victor 04 - Autumn leavesVictor was sitting under an old oak tree, Shamrock perched on his right shoulder. He was knitting. This was just another kind of craft. He was good with his hands. Had always been. So, when Marsha had said he needed to learn how to make his own clothes, he was delighted. He had loved the whole process. No more stinky potions! Solid materials to work on. He admittedly had been a little disappointed when he had found out the dyes were some kind of potion too. But it was worth it. He had patiently learnt how to make woolen clothes, then he had asked Marsha if he could buy other fabrics in order to improve his skills. They often traveled to Cork, for Marsha bought and sold things in the city. She provided apothecaries with her remedies, and purchased goods she couldn’t obtain in the forest or nearby villages, like cooking tools, and some secret ingredients for her potions. Victor was allowed to buy candies and to try his new tricks in the streets. He liked it a lot. He had begun to b
Victor 05 - The Mad HatterStewardship was boring. The Lord of Fall, who had welcomed Victor into the Heart, was no fun. He frowned on Victor’s magic tricks, and wanted him to focus on « real magic ». What exactly was not « real » about his magic anyway? Victor sighed while tidying the cottage he had settled into. It was his turn to do the cleaning. His comrades were nice, though. They laughed when he made a prank. They even asked for more. During the last weeks, Victor had acquired quite a bunch of followers. He had never known he had it in him, to make people like him and want him around. He was no leader. But people didn’t follow him because he ordered them around. No. They did so because they wanted to know what he was up to. And Victor didn’t want to disappoint them. So, yeah… he had been grounded once or twice. A week. Apparently it wasn’t alright to sabotage kitchen tools, or to hide frogs in girl’s hoods. Victor had been thinking
- Present life:
Victor - Wood and the CityIt was another evening in London, and Victor was, as he often did, performing in some theater. This night, it was the Grand Theater near Charing Cross. Higher standards than his usual, but Victor's magic tricks could take many shapes, and fit almost every public. The show consisted on a big event, the parting of one of the attendants’ head. It was a simple variation of the traditional “sawing someone in half in a wooden box” trick, only it was more spectacular with the head, and Victor used no box. He simply made the innocent spectator lean on a board covered in silk, put a shawl on his/her neck, and feigned to saw the head, only the shawl was magically tempered with, and a spell made the public believe the head was detached when it was not. Simple illusion spell that made the head appear to be inches from the body. And the spectator felt nothing and was encouraged to talk to the public during the performance. It made things less frightening and more funny. The rest o
Victor - The Pumpkin QuestIt was September. Victor had been obsessed by a single thought for a moment: he wanted to grow pumpkins in his garden. He had seen some in London, at the peer, coming from American boats. He wanted to get some seeds and grow them himself, for he thought the color and the entwined vines were really beautiful. Plus he had heard they were delicious in a soup. He really wanted them, and had been traveling the Misty Paths for a while, searching for a way to America, especially one which would lead to pumpkin fields. At last, he found something interesting, a place where they grew corn and vegetables, and explored the area with raising excitement. There were so many plants he didn’t know very well, there. Shamrock was equally excited and smelled everything with a curious nose. Sometimes he even took a bite, for the taste, and expressed his approval or his disgust with his usual theatrics. After a long search involving a large amount of walking, Victor found what he sought. In the back
Victor - Roses for Arty (side prompt)One day, Victor had come to the workshop to find Arty, who he hadn't seen in days, completely exhausted. At first he thought it was her job at the theater that was too tiring and he was prepared to scowl her for working too hard. The. She told him about the dreams. The nightmares, the black rose, the lack of sleep. He comforted her as he could, and tried to help her find a solution. He brewed potions to suppress nightmares, he made dream suppressing charms, lucky charms, and all, but nothing seemed to work. He grew really worried as he saw her weaken more and more. They spent all their nights together at the workshop, and he tried to stand guard on her sleep. It didn't help, and the black roses popped up suddenly, in a blink, at a random time of the dream. He was unable to wake her up during the dreams, and could only offer the solace of his arms for her to sob inside when she woke up.
When he didn't have to stand guard, he studied the collection of roses. He wanted to know why they we

Victor - Heart and ClubsVictor headed to the Heart as fast as he could. Arty had disappeared in the middle of the night, and he was determined to learn more about this. He went straight to the Lord of Fall, explaining the dream thing, the progressive weakening of Arty, his fruitless researches, the black roses, and all. He tried to be clear and not to panic, but his stomach was clenching badly. He showed the roses he had brought on his hat, and the Lord examined them. He seemed worried. He told Victor about Diane who had come to him for a similar problem with a similar rose, and she had tried to investigate the matter, but hadn't come to the Lord with any answer.
It struck Victor with terror: the Lord was clueless. He was on his own to find Arty and rescue her from the evil creature who had taken her. He wandered in the Heart, taken aback, when he heard a strange cacophony coming from a distant cottage. He came closer, and found Orion and Shamrock, along with a curious amount of other familiars, surrounding a

Victor - Yule with ArtyIt was this moment of the year when Autumn turned into Winter. Soon, the Solstice would be there, and with it, the longest night of the year. Victor had put the last hand on his chestnut roaster, and was going to bring it to the Heart, along with a storage of chestnuts he had collected patiently during the last months. He had been quite shocked at Arty’s disappearance, when she had, apparently, been trapped by a dream fairy in a bloody nightmare. He couldn’t forgive himself for not having been able to help her back then, even with the help of a very large number of familiars of all sorts, and the unsuccessful tries of the Lords themselves. Since then, Victor had tried hard to make up for his absence at this crucial moment. He had taken Arty to various trips, had worked with her on powerful runes against nightmares, and had crafted things with her, to relax her and make her feel better, even if the work at the factory kept her quite busy.
Victor wanted to ask Arty to come wi

Victor - Yuletide feast with Arty part 1It was time at last. Victor came to his appointment with Arty in a state of nerves, because he didn't know if she would like the gift nor if she would accept going to the Yule festival in the Heart with him. They were to meet at the Workshop, as usual. Victor wore his usual hat and gloves, and of course his coat, but he had sewn a special festive costume to go with them, one who had the shape of a tuxedo but the deep, rich green of pines and sequins on it to sparkle like he was on stage. He had also embroidered shapes of holly on the lapels, with red sequins on it to figure the fruits. He hoped she wouldn't laugh too hard, because he liked fancy costumes, and had spent time on this one.
He had the gift box ornate with a ribbon, and was ready to give it to her as soon as they had properly kissed. He had not seen her the last days, because both of them were crazy busy. So here he was, waiting impatiently inside, looking constantly at the door. Shamrock, sensing his nervousness, shifted u

-Wardrobe:
Woodwife-The Dandy (Nefermeritaset) by xaotl
Victor - Yuletide festival tuxedo special by Nefermeritaset

Isabelle Boisseau:
- Character sheet:
Isabelle - Character SheetName: Isabelle Boisseau
Sex: Female
Age: 15 (contract) - 19 (After stewardship)
Background: Daughter of a metis Creole mother and her former owner, a white Cajun owner of a small planting in South Louisiana, she was born free and is very proud of it. Her father isn’t rich, but he provided to her needs as a child. She is his legitimate daughter since he married her mother after freeing her. Her nanny was well versed in tales of the Bayou, and she knew about the creatures in there well before a local Woodwife decided she had the Sight and had to be properly trained. It turned out to be not so good an idea, since it was during her apprenticeship that Isabelle found it funny to strike a deal with Compère Lapin. She really shouldn’t have thought she was smarter than the Great Trickster himself, contract or not…
She now has her own cottage and begins to have a good reputation as a potion and charm maker, but she doesn’t make much money

- Present life:
Isabelle - Solstice cock tailIt was almost Solstice. Isabelle was thinking hard. Her family, being of mixed origins, celebrated Christmas in the Christian way. But in Louisiana, it was hard to find snow, pine trees and holly. She loved the gathering, the lights, the tales, the food (except for oysters. Why did they have to make oysters?), and all, but she wanted to decorate her house properly. She could always make garlands, as she had done before, but she didn’t like to stich and sew, and it was tedious, so she would reuse the ones from the past years. She had not enough money to buy fancy Christmas’ balls, or other decorations. But she had made it a tradition to add a new Christmas shiny thing to her decor every year. After all, before she went to celebrate Christmas with her family in her father’s mansion, her mother always came to fetch her and made sure she had taken care of her home.
She had a tree. Yes, it was a small cypress growing in her garden. But she had grown it for that purpose, so

- Wardrobe:
Woodwife-Rabbits- Nefermeritaset by xaotl
Isabelle - With and without a cloak by Nefermeritaset

Allan Winter:
- Character sheet and looks:
March MYO Woodwife - Allan Winter by Nefermeritaset
Allan - Inn and out - June promptAllan woke up that morning with a headache. He had bad dreams about his little brother, once again. Or maybe it was the excessive amount of ale he had drunk the night before. He got up, and Rainbow said, in his odd bird voice: « Mornin’, sunshine! ». Allan threw a malevolent glare at his familiar, who loved to tease him when he was in a bad mood, then he went to the tiny kitchen corner of his little own room in the London suburbs, near Regent’s park, and began brewing willow tree leaves and bark, with a bit of thyme, and some other plants he knew. He filtered the brew after cooking, and drank it all. In a few minutes, he would feel better.
The young man had to hurry, he had a shop to run, since he had made a living of selling his potions to people in the suburbs. He owned a cart with a marquee, in which he settled when he wanted to sell potions and charms to the clients. He also read their future in northern runes like Vera had taught him, except his run


Vera Vintersdotter:
- Character sheet and looks:
MYO Woodwife - Vera Vintersdotter by Nefermeritaset
- Present life:
Sticks and Stones- Vera and JabirIt was spring. On this beautiful yet chilling night, Vera Vintersdotter was out as usual. Her blue and white cloak, dotted with snowflakes of every color and shape, didn’t go unnoticed. But people downtown had learnt to know her, and most of them didn’t pay much attention anymore. She decided to go for coffee, and stopped randomly on a street corner nearby. There was this Coffee shop where students often came to talk about philosophical matters. Sometimes it was interesting.
She decided to give them a chance to entertain her, and walked down the three steps that led to the door. She entered the shop, all conversations stopping for a short while at the sight of her cloak, which seemed so out of place. But she had been there before, and some of the customer even nodded to her, while she took a stool in a dark corner and ordered a Java. The waiter brought her a burning cup of black coffee and she began to listen to the conversations around her. A table was debating about plane

Spring prompt - Vera VintersdotterIt was spring again. The time of the year Arion preferred, when he got to fly over blooming flowers in gardens and parks. Vera let him out more often on spring time. But he sensed that she was not too happy about spring herself.
Vera was, in fact, brooding. Spring always brought back dreadful memories to her mind, but this year was worse. She had met this stranger, a Mage who called himself Albertus. And the turn of event had quite vividly reminded her of the reason why she hated spring so much. Aïsha. The memory of her was still very clear in Vera’s mind. The sunkissed half-Egyptian half-English Woodwife had been more than a friend to her. But it was so long ago! She was young, then. So young she had just finished her stewardship. It was during this time in the Heart she had met Aïsha, a free-minded Woodwife with a tendency to think she could do anything she wanted without caring for the consequences. Vera and her had instantly been friends. They even where briefly lov
 (memories)
Vera (and Antef) - The Ghost GardenApril was blooming in the gardens of London. Vera liked the lighter weather, and so did Arion who had begun to stir in his cage. Vera had been to one of her favorite tea houses, which was the mansion of a rich lady who liked her divination as an attraction for tea-time. The circle of ladies had become quite addicted to their weekly predictions, and Vera was happy to have a regular income from Lady Harrington, the host, and an opportunity to have tea in one of the most delightful places for gossiping in all London. The ladies had even begun to treat her like a friend rather than an attraction, because, well, gossiping was a gift to Vera, so they couldn’t resist her. Plus, she always dressed up for those weekly encounters, trying not to embarrass the ladies by appearing in old rags. True, she couldn’t afford the services of the famous seamstresses they all liked, but she was quite good at sewing herself, and she knew how to bargain for fabric, in exchange for little potions o
Vera (and Antef) - The Ghost House (prompt sequel)A few weeks had passed since their visit to the deserted estate. Vera had been to every shop about occult she knew, searching for an ouija board with even a faint glow to it, indicating it could be genuine and useful to her. Finally, she had found something, in a tiny, dusty, dark shop in a dubious neighborhood. The shop was named « The Shimmering Crystal » and claimed to sell and buy things from otherworldly places and rare antics. The place itself was a huge mess of various objects of many different kinds, stored on shelves mostly. There was a forked twig next to a mummy foot, an Aztec idol (a fake, she was sure) sat next to an orb with some kind of myst within, rare books piled like they were worth nothing were assaulted by dust, an you could even buy an Indian blowpipe with allegedly poisoned darts.The shop owner’s eyes had shone in anticipation when Vera, in her very noticeable cloak, had entered the stocked room. He had come to her, not bothering hiding
Vera - The ghost friend (june prompt)For some time now, Vera had been keeping her ouija board under lock and key, in an iron box, to prevent the potential mixing of magics between it and her Woodwife stuff. She couldn’t stop thinking about her strange experience, her supernatural encounter, no less than a ghost, a real one. Asa Badner obsessed her, but she was too shaken by her latest encounter to go back right away. She had tried to do some researching on him, but so far, she had only found out that he was known to throw extravagant parties and be the favorite gossip of the high society, until he died quite suddenly. But the society was strangely quiet about the way he had died. Even seemed relieved to be rid of him at the time. Maybe he had been too exuberant for them? What could he possibly have done wrong? He seemed like a rich, literate man, who liked to spend his money with liberality. She could learn nothing more but strange speculations about him being a wizard of sorts, which made no sense unless he had bee

Wadjet:
- Character sheet:
Wadjet Character SheetName: Wadjet
Sex: Female
Age: (11 when she became an apprentice, 24 when she took an apprentice) 32
Background: She was born in a traveling circus where her parents worked.
Hair: Taupe-ish brown, mid-long.
Eyes: Striking blue
Stage: Woodwife
Familiar:  Male Wolverine - Nigel
Cloak: Beige fringed coat trimmed with Ankh crosses and Horus eyes embroidery, ending with a swan-like symbol on the bottom.
Touched by The Wood: No.
Effect: N/A
Truth: When life follows what you’re good at, heart is lighter than the Maat.
History: Daughter of Apophet, a strongly Woodtouched Woodwife born in Egypt who talks to snakes, is partly covered in scales, and was hereby the snake handler of a traveling circus and the « Snake Woman », and her husband Thomas, a human knife-thrower, Wadjet inherited her mother’s character and hair, and her father’s blue eyes and passion for knives. Wadjet's mother being a Woodwife, it didn’t come as a surprise when Wadjet turned

- Wardrobe:
Woodwives- Fairy Circus-Knife Act (Closed) by xaotl

Antef:
- Character sheet: 
Antef Character SheetName: Antef
Sex: Male
Age: (13 when he became an apprentice) 21
Background: Orphaned young, Antef lived of small thievery, beggary and other petty crimes in the port of Alexandria in Egypt when he met with the Fairy Circus.
Hair: Long black and thick.
Eyes: Grey
Stage: Woodwife
Familiar: Female Porcupine - Fluffy
Cloak: Purple with crossed knives, grape vines, and sinister red that could be either blood or wine.
Touched by The Wood: No.
Effect: N/A
Truth: When life gives you grapes, you can either make sour vinegar or good wine, but you have to defend your choice and live with it.
History: Antef was born in a poor Nubian family who had settled in the port of Alexandria, Egypt, because his father was a sailor. His father never returned from a trip when Antef was still quite young, and his mother tried to deal with her three kids the best she knew, but she had to work on the docks for a living, and one day, she just never returned. Antef never knew if she abandoned them or died, or was m
`
- Early life:
Antef 01 - A sting in your fingerLife in Alexandria had not been tender towards Antef, but he didn’t mind. He had a job, a full belly most of nights, and places to stay dry in the Rain Season. Sure, it wasn’t in his nature to be violent, so he had found a way to make himself useful to the Boss nonetheless. He couldn’t be a cutthroat, but he was tall and muscular for his young age, so he could be an enforcer, to intimidate people by his very presence. He could deliver packages, too. Mostly opium, from the docks where it came from, to the smoking houses, where the consumers came. Antef knew it was illegal, and bad for health. But he couldn’t decide for others, so, if they wanted to ruin their health, it was their responsibility, not his.
To be more impressive and look like a fighter, Antef had came with a brilliant trick, which made quite an impression on his fellow henchmen (or rather, boys, for most of them). He had discovered he had a knack at making up fake wounds and scars, with only a few t

- Present life:
Antef - Spring promptIt was spring again, and the fine weather and newly blossomed flowers reminded Antef of the first actual spring he had ever seen. In Alexandria, where he had spent is youth, spring was a moderate alteration of the weather. A transition between the rain season and the hot season. If you ventured into the desert, nothing changed just because it was spring. In the big merchant port of Alexandria, you knew it was spring because of the different kinds of goods the ship brought to sale or trade.
It was only when Antef was brought in the traveling circus by Wadjet that he began to discover new countries. There, spring really meant something. It was not just another word. Antef discovered the green grass of countryside Europe first, when the circus headed to France. Grass was already green in winter. Only, when spring came, something happened. First, gillyflowers bloomed in gardens and even in more savage parts of the land. They came in several colors. Some were yellow, some were pink, some we
 (memories)
Vera (and Antef) - The Ghost GardenApril was blooming in the gardens of London. Vera liked the lighter weather, and so did Arion who had begun to stir in his cage. Vera had been to one of her favorite tea houses, which was the mansion of a rich lady who liked her divination as an attraction for tea-time. The circle of ladies had become quite addicted to their weekly predictions, and Vera was happy to have a regular income from Lady Harrington, the host, and an opportunity to have tea in one of the most delightful places for gossiping in all London. The ladies had even begun to treat her like a friend rather than an attraction, because, well, gossiping was a gift to Vera, so they couldn’t resist her. Plus, she always dressed up for those weekly encounters, trying not to embarrass the ladies by appearing in old rags. True, she couldn’t afford the services of the famous seamstresses they all liked, but she was quite good at sewing herself, and she knew how to bargain for fabric, in exchange for little potions o
Vera (and Antef) - The Ghost House (prompt sequel)A few weeks had passed since their visit to the deserted estate. Vera had been to every shop about occult she knew, searching for an ouija board with even a faint glow to it, indicating it could be genuine and useful to her. Finally, she had found something, in a tiny, dusty, dark shop in a dubious neighborhood. The shop was named « The Shimmering Crystal » and claimed to sell and buy things from otherworldly places and rare antics. The place itself was a huge mess of various objects of many different kinds, stored on shelves mostly. There was a forked twig next to a mummy foot, an Aztec idol (a fake, she was sure) sat next to an orb with some kind of myst within, rare books piled like they were worth nothing were assaulted by dust, an you could even buy an Indian blowpipe with allegedly poisoned darts.The shop owner’s eyes had shone in anticipation when Vera, in her very noticeable cloak, had entered the stocked room. He had come to her, not bothering hiding
- Wardrobe:
Woodwives- Fairy Circus-Knife Act (Closed) by xaotl

Others:
The Morrigan - Irish loreThe battlefield was so quiet at night, thought the British sentry who was to make sure the Aboriginal Tasmanians would not come to claim the dead bodies of their fallen warriors. He was alone in that foul place were you could smell death but you couldn't see it for it was dark. He was proud to be there. They defended the British settlers who wanted to protect their livestock from the savages. It was a noble cause. So was he thinking when he heard the noise.
At first, he thought he had imagined it. Then he knew he hadn't, for he heard the ruffle again. Maybe just a night predator drawn there by the scent of blood and rotten corpses, But it was the sentry’s duty to check. If Aboriginal warriors came to snatch the bodies on his watch, he would be in serious trouble. He unsheathed the lantern and got up. He stretched his leg and walked a bit on the battlefield, avoiding the corpses. Only Aboriginal corpses of course, for the British Army had removed their own bodies to give them a pr

The Morrigan - Lady of FateIt was dusk in Leinster, and everything was quiet. The sea was calm as ever in Bannow Bay. The fleet had managed to reach the land without awaking suspicion. The knights landed on the bay and began arming themselves with the help of their squires. They were to retake Leinster. Many battles were ahead. They had brought archers and men of arms to help them in that task. A war was beginning. Blood would be spilled and many would die. Duncan was a knight. He had a duty to fulfill, he had sworn an oath. He was full of dreams and hopes, for it was his first time in a real battle. His father would be so proud!
Next morning, the little army headed to Wexford, which was a port of strategic importance. There was a huge battle. The racket of arms hitting armors was deafening. Duncan didn't see the big picture for he was in the heart of battle, and his helm hid most of the battlefield from him. He had just ended the life of an opponent, when something caught his eye. Someone was on the battlefield

Solstice taleA Solstice tale.
It was a cold Solstice night, the longest night of the year, with a sharp winter breeze which made your breath look like mist. The village was all quiet, all people locked inside their homes, but the lights were burning bright. Since it was the longest night, you had to make sure the sun would return, and for that, you lit all the lights you could. Every fireplace, every candle, every lantern was burning bright in the darkest of the night.
On each window sill, something was disposed. Some had left the crust of their last bread, some had baked a special cake, some had only left a branch of hoe or a carved wooden toy.
Everyone was asleep. Everyone but one little girl. She had never been very obedient, her parents lamented for that, since she was otherwise quite a good girl, and she wanted to know if the old tales were true. People said that a Bearded Man gave presents to people who deserved it. That the little things on the window sills were for him to take. She

  • Listening to: Lila Downs
  • Reading: Janua Vera
  • Watching: Batman - the animated series
  • Playing: Final Fantasy Brave Exvius
  • Eating: Almonds. Lots of them.
  • Drinking: Tea. Always. Anywhere.

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Nefermeritaset
Marie
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
France
Boooo !
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:iconkervala:
Kervala Featured By Owner Mar 30, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Bon anniversaire Marie :hug: :party: :iconhappybirthdaysignplz:
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:iconnefermeritaset:
Nefermeritaset Featured By Owner Mar 30, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Merci beaucoup ! :D
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:iconcustomwaifus:
customwaifus Featured By Owner Feb 10, 2018   Digital Artist
Thank you for the watch and helping my profile grow! I really appreciate it!
I hope you'll continue enjoy and support my art! <3
Banner -Jinx/NightElf/Morrigan (Free to Use) by customwaifus
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:iconfayen-ri:
Fayen-ri Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Merci beaucoup pour le :+fav: ! :thanks:
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:iconnefermeritaset:
Nefermeritaset Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Mais de rien. :)
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:iconkrukof2:
krukof2 Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2017  Professional
:iconsparklesplz: T h a n k s  for the  W a t c h !!!! :iconsparklesplz: 
                   Drawing a Loop by krukof2  
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:iconnefermeritaset:
Nefermeritaset Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Mais de rien... ;)
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:icononi-neko:
Oni-Neko Featured By Owner Aug 8, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you for the favorite.
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:iconnefermeritaset:
Nefermeritaset Featured By Owner Aug 8, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome. :) Beautiful text.
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:icondaegann:
Daegann Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Yop !
Je crois que je n'ai pas eu l'occasion de te demander mais tu joues à quoi comme jdr en général ?
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