 Witch Lamia |
Born: | September 07, 2020 | Forum Topics Started: | 1 (House only: 0) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Race: | Witch | Forum Posts / Replies: | 8 (House only: 0) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Affiliation: | No Affiliation | Mail Replies Sent: | 47 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Home City: | New Orleans | Mail Sent: | 6 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| In Union With: | Not in Union | Last Login: Currently Online: |
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| Current Mood: | Uneasy | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| Hawthorne House Rules:
1) No Lives should be taken within the property lines. Remember a vengeful spirit is worse than termites. 2) Birds are absolutely prohibited from entering the dining room and kitchen following the 1933 Fall Feast fiasco. 3) All spiders must keep to their corners. Violation of this rule will result in immediate removal. By any means necessary. 4) Please do not store Spirit Wine in the cellar next to regular wine. We cannot afford to clean up after another “Aunt Loo” incident. 5) Full grown alligators are not permitted inside the house. Ever. For any reason. 6) Do NOT, under any circumstances, say the word Ş̵͖̤̩̳̮̀̾̇́̋̊͝͝ü̵͔͚͎̭̫͔̱̅͒͛̂͗̌͜͜b̴̡͈̗̗͙͍͇͇̋t̷̠̬̯̬̲͙̹̼̓̽̈̐̽e̸̥̗̭͕͂͗͠r̵̡͉̪̗̻̱̹̤͑̈́̐͘͜͝r̵̡̞̳̦̫̝͖̈́͌͑̊̓̍͑͗̕a̸͕̳̟͚͍̻͙̾̀͌̓̅͜. They are listening. They are always listening. Do not let them hear you cal- 7) Crepe Sundays will continue as per normal. However, we will no longer be accepting filling requests of the unusual or “exotic” variety. No. Not even if you bring your own ingredients. 8) DO NOT FEED the man-eating crickets. 9) Waking the dead in the family graveyard just because you “wanted to chat” is not an acceptable excuse to use necromantic magics. There is no need to raise the body when their spectral existence can talk just fine. Necromancy is NOT a game Nathaniel. 10) Do not reap what was sown on the premises if it was not planted for you as the consequences can be quite dire. 11) Uninvited guests should not be left waiting at the front door. You know why. 12) Do not greet the Doorman! He is a figment of your imagination. And he bites! These rules and regulations are in place for your safety during your visit or extended stay. Hawthorne House is not liable for any injury, possession, or enigmatic phenomenon that might occur should you not follow these guidelines. |
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| My Minion Raiding Party can beat up your Minion Raiding Party Midnight Garden Member Skull dripping blood commemorating the Bloodletting 14th Anniversary Murder Mystery 2020 - Murder They Wrote Murder Mystery 2020 - Peeping Tom Murder Mystery 2020 - Participant | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Jude Hawthorne's Biography |
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(ooc: Will get this made pretty maybe. Later. Jude is unaware of the supernatural world outside of witches.) “You know, you're not my usual type.” The nervous laughter following those words sounded strained even to my own ears. She was a professional though. No mocking laughter. No rolling her pretty, pale eyes. Instead she pressed her lithe body closer, touched her lips to the lobe of my ear. “What?” I felt her mouth shift against my skin but didn't hear what she said, even though she was so close, hovering above me. “What did you say? Hey-” Suddenly I couldn't move. I couldn't even blink. My fingers were numb, lips clumsy as I tried to speak. “Wha-?” “Ugh. Finally.” She slid off of me. My body was heavy, like I was too drunk to move. It felt like I was tied to the bed but there was nothing there and my heart begin to race. Though any traces of anticipation were lost when she spoke. “Professional indeed.” She snorted softly and wandered over to the minibar, sifting through the contents. “Why-?” She came back, a small bottle of jack hanging between her lips. Tossing her head back she downed the contents and was already opening the second bottle when she released the first to fall from the floor. Second bottle caught between her teeth, she dug through the pockets of my pants. “I brought enough.” Desperation forced the words out. Maybe I had been misunderstood and she thought I wasn't going to pay her. “I wasn't going to cheat you.” But those eyes, still warm and amused even though her actions said she was anything but, only glanced up at me briefly. Pulling the cash out and leaving the cards, she wiped the wallet clean before tossing it back on my discarded clothes and climbing over me. Settling on my chest, she tucked the bills into her bra, finished the contents of the second bottle, and threw it on the floor with the first. I was paralyzed. This wasn't going at all how it should have been. Something was very, very wrong. “It's fine.” She was saying, mouth forming a cocky smile. “This is just a bonus. I've already been paid.” There was no time to think. No time to react. No time to scream. There was only the knife, digging into my chest, and the strange feeling of blood being siphoned out of my body. It didn't hurt. Everything was numb. And it was fascinating to watch as glob after red glob rose up, defying gravity, and fell with a wet splat into a jar I didn't realize she was holding. I don't know when she picked it up or where she got it from, but it was quickly filling to the brim. When it was full, two pints at least, she screwed the lid on tight and leaned to set it on the nightstand. And as she pulled the knife free, all of the feeling in my body came back, but I was already too weak to do more than whimper. She licked the blade clean and smiled, watching me a while as what was left of my life continued leaking out to stain the white sheets. Eventually, the crushing pain became apathy, became a peaceful sort of half sleeping, and she left my side. Began tidying up like it was the most natural thing to do, wiping down anything she had touched, even going so far as to collect the discarded bottles and slip them in her purse. Along with the jar of blood. She pulled on her jacket, checked the room one last time and then patted me on my cheek. There were a rush of static from her touch that seemed to spread out through the whole hotel room. “It'd have been nice to play with you a bit longer. But if I don't deliver this on time, Gran tends to get a bit testy.” She leaned down, giggling voice in my ear, bidding me farewell it appeared. “It's alright. You can die now.” As if her words unlocked something, let something free, the sensation, the realization of death, finally took hold and I gasped. Once. Gurgling. As she slipped out the room. Jude strode down the New Orleans avenue, hands in her pockets. Wove her way through the back alleys and places frequented by the fringe society until she was able to hail a taxi. An hour later she was at her childhood home, out in the boonies of the alligator infested swamp. The old plantation house bought by her grandfather when he was alive, was dilapidated now at best, though she'd spent a small fortune already trying to fix it up. Through the crooked wood door and into the dark foyer, she slipped to the left of the staircase and headed into the kitchen. “Grandmarie! I'm home! And I've brought you a gift!” |
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