On the Pond (Joel, Open)

[neriumoleander]

About a half mile from Grimhilde Manor, beyond the land and in a thicket of overgrown trees, there lies a deep pond. It teems with life. Shimmers with magic and the surface is particularly exquisite under the full moon. It has been Nerium's place, since she was a child. Lonely and wandering her woods, she found the fish and frogs there not to be potion ingredients, but charming companions. Today there is another world there. Ruled by a family of mischievous water nymphs borne of a spell of Nerium's long ago. Magic breeds magic and soon the pond was home to grindylows, ashrays, bunyip, and kappas - even miniature hippocamps. They regard Nerium as a goddess. For her, they are her closest friends - along with the ravens and other creatures of the manor. 



She often floats a canoe to the center to think or reflect on a new spell. Today she is there with a book in hand, and several others resting at the floor of the canoe. She is a bookseller now, during Rose's occasional stints at The Quill, and she must make her role believable. So she's gathered an assortment of books, those highly recommended and sought after. Others considered classics. 

Nerium is unsure how she feels about this boy wizard. He who survived a curse from the the great dark lord. 

"It is in poor taste to attack a child. But his wrong is seeking power for purely selfish gain. One will always be corrupted by the great dark forces if they are not dealt with accordingly. Sacrifice and worship." The water nymphs lean against the side of her boat, ever a captive audience. "Though this so-called hero is insufferable. Who cares of sport when there is magic to learn? Certainly all his brilliance comes from his female friend."

Perhaps Nerium likes the bushy-haired girl. Even if she was born of humans. Her power is the same.  

Comments

[neriumoleander]

"Yes, Crossroads." She raises her head up and down and the canoe starts to float again, slowly to the center. Dragonflies linger around the reeds as they depart, glowing as if crossed with lightning bugs. "I must commend you on the name."

Nerium pauses at his question. Perhaps it is just formality but few have ever greeted her with such an inquiry. Rose, yes, but not a Grimhilde. "I am well. I am learning, always. I give thanks to the dark so that the world may have its light." She smiles, softly.

There's a break in the surface of the water and a chittering sound. A small sickly green being with horns reaches out and wraps his fingers around Joel's arms, trying to tug him towards the water. Nerium acts quickly, sending a curse at the creature's hand, picking him up, and tossing him in the water. He lands with a splash and sad whimpers before backfloating away.

"Grindylows." Nerium rolls her eyes. "They're really just lonely creatures, but trying to steal friends away to the water typically brings them only corpses. This one's mostly harmless though. I named him Bob. He utterly despises it."

[just_another]

He's about to answer her, prepared to ask about what she's said -- giving thanks to the dark -- when there's the pressure of fingers on his arm and he yanks it back, that same unfamiliar darkness rising in him. His eyes go black, but before he can do anything, before he can gather that strength and fling it toward the creature as he'd done with Mark and with Eli, Nerium sends it back with a curse and it's gone.

It's not the grindylow that's the cause of his racing heart, but his own reaction. Something has felt strange lately, something inside him has been stronger and he doesn't like it very much. He blinks and his eyes return to normal, but he's embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Sorry," he says, although he doesn't know why he's apologizing. "How do you know he doesn't like the name?" It's such a stupid question, but he doesn't know what else to say.

[neriumoleander]

Nerium laughs, short and abrupt, but genuine. "Because it is Bob. Is there a name on earth more mundane? Besides, he hisses each time I say it. He prefers Gorgog the Great. So I use Bob when he acts out of line."

She stands in the canoe, holding out her arms, and it begins to pick up speed. The pond gives the illusion of growing - to a lake, to a bay, to an ocean, and they cruise along the waves with wind blowing about them.

His shift was notable. The rise inside him. Something dark. Something growing. It is why she meets it with such a display of power. Whatever it is, it must know she is a formidable force.

"You were going to ask about what I said. About the dark. Go ahead."

[just_another]

He's distracted again, watching the water rush by and he has no idea how she does it, but there's a part of him -- a small part, to be certain, but it's there all the same -- that wants to learn. All his life, he's been capable of things, but never anything like this and he's never wanted it. Until now. Some small part of him itches for it and he doesn't understand.

"Oh," he says, looking at her again. "I was going to ask what that means. How someone gives thanks to the dark." He thinks another person might ask if she really means if, if she really cares if the world has its light, but he thinks she does.

[neriumoleander]

Nerium feels his yearning. The lure of magic at such great power scratching at his skin. And perhaps something else along with it.

She waves her hands above them, and the sky goes pitch black, stars brighter and more plentiful than can typically be seen on even the clearest nights. It is a localized spell, but it is effective nonetheless.

"It is my worship. It is the power I - my family - has sworn our magic to since days of olde.

Before there was this world, before there was this universe, all of existence was darkness, and in the darkness there was a great chaos that is the source of all power. From that chaos came the universe, and the universe the world. The oldest powers of dark and chaos manifested themselves into gods and goddesses, demons and deities. They have long since been forgotten by most. Feared by those who have not. But it is to them that my family gives worship and sacrifice, in exchange for the secrets of their art. In knowing that without the chaos and dark so feared by most, all would be gone."

It is a story she has been told since she was a young girl. Which she has sworn her life to. Demons and goddesses and deities she has sown herself to, who have taken so much of her. It is the Grimhilde way.

[just_another]

It's not the answer Joel expects and he tips his head back, looking at the sky above them, marvelling at the brightness of the stars. That's not a sky one sees in Siren Cove on any regular night, he knows she's done it, but it's beautiful and bright and he watches it for a long moment as he listens to her speak. It's not the answer he expects because it doesn't really sound as dark as he'd imagined. That the world was -- and still is, he thinks -- made of chaos is no secret. Everything has to start somewhere, even the magic he has, and while he likes to believe the things he and his family are capable of come from something other than a demon, he still knows they come from something old. Something long forgotten by most people.

So it's not the answer he expects at all and he looks over at her, a faint smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"You're just aware of it," he says, then shakes his head, because it doesn't sound right. "I mean... it's there. For all of us. Most witches just don't think of where it comes from, but you know." He can feel it when his powers try to get the better of him, the crackle of energy in his fingers, the way it jumps toward Spencer when he's near. It's bigger than he'll ever be, bigger and older, and Joel is comfortable with that. He wonders how many witches are.

[neriumoleander]

"I am more than just aware. I know it. I touch it. I feel it on me at all times. Most witches have forgotten the roots of their power in favor of earth magic and simpler things. Less complicated. Rooted in the light."

She nods at Joel then, again noting the shadow upon him. The thing within that she cannot place a finger upon.

"And you. You have not yet told me why it is you sought me out. A locater spell is not done lightly, even without blood."

[just_another]

"No, that's what I mean. You know it and the rest of us... we take for granted what we're given. We don't think about where it comes from." Although he's been doing more of that lately, considering where his powers are from and why some of them are so unlike those of his parents. It shouldn't matter, but it does. Or maybe it should matter, maybe that's what Nerium is saying. If he understood it better, maybe it wouldn't so often surprise him.

At her question, though, he shakes his head, smiling. "Sometimes people in this town... well, they're not always very accepting of things they think of as different." He means her, but he means himself, too, an outsider, a Canadian, someone displaced from his home and sent here to hide. He means Spencer, the way people still treat him, the names some people call him, the vandalism. He means that he understands in a way.

"I thought maybe... I thought... It's a social call," he says, looking at her. "I don't agree with most of what you said the other night, but I like you all the same."