starsmisalign (starsmisalign) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-12-11 22:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | celeste henry |
No Turning Back
Who: Celeste
What: Magic
Where: Las Vegas, Curiosities
When: December 3rd
Ratings/Warnings: Death
After the bell rang, signalling that the last customer of the day had exited Curiosities, Celeste began locking up the store. She shut the front door, put up the ‘Closed’ sign, lowered the drapes on the windows, and dimmed the lights. The brunette shut off the playlist that had been playing ‘Black Dog’ by Led Zeppelin.
After finishing all that, Celeste began gathering the supplies that she would need. One plus of working in a magic shop was having said supplies readily available for her. She took a deep breath and began drawing in a circle with salt. Set in the middle was a photograph of Caleb, with the transition symbol drawn upon it. It was a spiral design with what looked like a small bird in the center.
Along with the photograph were black pillar candles which Celeste carefully lit, a couple of small crystals placed strategically, and a bundle of dry herbs wrapped in twine. Most important of all, there was her intent, which was strong and unwavering after the meeting with Caleb and Roman. There was a part of her, dark and deep and small, that almost wanted to add a photo of Roman to the assortment of items. But swiping Caleb’s phone during the meeting and sneaking it into the lawyer’s jacket pocket would have to suffice.
She took a deep, steadying breath and sat carefully, cross-legged, in the center of the circle. This was not a spell she was going to undertake lightly. It was a heady thing, being responsible, truly responsible for a sibling’s death. Celeste knew in her heart that it was what she had to do. The brunette might not have agreed with the rest of her family and the others that followed her late father’s words, but that didn’t mean they all deserved to die, either. Caleb, however, was an entirely different story.
As Celeste recited the words of the ritual, her focus strong, she didn’t notice the scent from the candles warping and changing into something almost fetid. Nor did she notice the soft light flickering, gaining intensity, or the vibration running through her limbs like a current. As the spell reached its end, another sensation began to grow. At first, it was almost like her body became lighter, a burden lifted, as if she could float away if she really put her mind to it.
That quickly changed to something else. The brunette took in a sharp breath of air. It felt like something was being ripped away from her. The candles flickered out completely, leaving small tendril-like trails of smoke that smelled of decay. Celese stood slowly, clutching her abdomen protectively. The photograph of Caleb was empty save for the spiral symbol. There was no evidence of her brother left to be seen.
Celeste stood there for what felt like an eternity, breathing in and breathing out as the pain began to slowly subside. She closed her eyes, and against the lids she could see that spiral as if it were moving, a recriminating galaxy. She somehow felt guilty and vindicated at the same time. Then, carefully, she began to clean up the area. The brunette worked methodically. Just another night of closing up the shop.
The blank photograph was carefully burned, the remnants snuffed out. She washed her hands and didn’t bother looking up at the mirror.
_______
The next morning, around 8 AM, Celeste sat parked across from Caleb’s hotel. Her dark sunglasses reflected the morning light, her brown hair pulled up into a long ponytail. She sat patiently and watched. The radio in the truck was on, the volume turned low, just enough to make out the lyrics and melodies of a song. A cup of coffee in the cupholder was emitting trails of steam. The windows were rolled up and the doors were locked.
At 8:23, two police cars and an ambulance drove up and parked in front of the hotel. Celeste sat up a little straighter in her seat and switched off the radio altogether. And she waited, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles were white and the stitching imprinted onto her palms. The time seemed to fly by in a surreal haze after that, like everything had been recorded on tape and fast-forwarded.
It wasn’t until she saw the white-sheet covered gurney that everything felt stunningly, startlingly real. Celeste could see an outline of a body, the roundness of a head rounding out into a valley, and the peak of two feet at the end. She watched as they transported it into the ambulance, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s. Once she had calmed herself down enough to speak, the brunette took out her phone and began to dial, a number that she had needed to mentally dust off.
The phone rang, and Celeste tried to make her pulse match the cadence of the tone. After four rings, someone with a feminine voice picked up. “Hello?”
“Caleb is gone. He isn’t coming home.” Celeste ended the call.