Halcyon Halls

Who: Leecee and Miklos
Where: Miklos' Office
When: Sunday, just about noon
What: Their kittens have been very naughty.

While those who might have had private dealings with Miss Errona were aware there was so much more to her than could be seen, most of the students were not aware. There were such a large number who were from the human world and, despite their experience at the school, magic was still a complete mystery. They just saw the buxom woman in dresses and heels smiling and greeting others in that pleasant Southern drawl.

Not that wasn't part of the real her, but there was a very hard edge to a seemingly soft woman. Her entire attitude was like an edge cutting through the hallways as she strutted through on black pumps and a black and white chiffon knee-length dress and empire waist. It had lots of dramatic flowing going on that went well with her steady gait. The straightness in her hair was slowly going out, giving it more body in soft waves down near the ends. She was ready to cut it again; having waist-length hair was high maintenance in brushing.

But perhaps others had already heard --thanks to Venizelos-- that there had already been a perpetration. There were already glances in her direction, and at her stern face, before people were turning and whispering. Yes, it was pretty clear whose Guide one or both of the students had. She had only agreed to meet Miklos at his office because she thought it would make him more open.

The video had certainly implicated Cecelia, but his student had manhandled her. Just as he complained before. Just the idea of a student walking around who might, at any point, feel free to manhandle her made her mouth sneer. Did he have any idea what a satyr of Wes' age could do to him? Satyrs had no strong magic, but they usually came in packs and Wes was certainly no exception with all his children.

Give the woman a plastic hoop and a whip, because she was gunning to be a regular lion tamer.

"Miklos." She said as way of greeting as she swept into his office, all seriousness and flowing fabric. "Ah apologize that we must meet under such circumstances." Leecee sighed, she often took things of this nature too seriously, but if a century and a half hadn't changed her from that, it was doubtful another century and a half would.

Who: Errona and Cissy
Where: Errona's office; smell the plants, admire the fine needlepoint
When: Tuesday afternoon
What: Cissy, meet the new woman in your life.

Oh Guide Students. Errona was one of those guides who was usually on top of them. She hated when they acted out of line and required discipline. In fact, she was known for being pretty strict with them when they were out of line. It was not uncommon for her to place a hex or binding upon them. Misuse your powers and you'd learn what it was to live like without them.

It was a positive that her disciplinary actions rarely required her to follow up much. However, she had to keep them elementary or risk exposing her own abilities. Bindings and simple quilts to affect dreams had been all that she doled out, but proved sufficient. No one had done anything to go above and beyond that, and good for them. If you crossed her more than twice, she was bound to take it personally. Then she might consider removing whatever noxious quality that caused such errant behavior.

Call it a bad day, but she'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. It wasn't as if she was completely cranky, just that Monday had been a relatively exciting and motivating day that Tuesday was failing to live up to. A bit of fallout from feeling underprepared (as in, not overprepared) for the upcoming semester. Leecee dove into expanding her class syllabus into a detailed outline including color-coordination and advanced warnings for preparation. After hours of work (and many distractions from passing students), she had only moved ahead three weeks for a single course. It would be days before she had moved ahead a single month in both and while cutting into quilting time.

The entire reason for this failure was due to her Quilting. She resisted the urge to open her drawer and pour some frustrated energy into one of her needles, but she did not need that kind of energy for the quilt, nor did it seem worthy of conveting. So she held it inside. "Come in!" She called, lacking that usual cheery lilt she had. Her simple silver neck-clasp was decorated with some inlaid semi-precious stones that matched the earrings hardly able to be seen from the cascade of waist-length hair she was working the beginning of this semester.

Who: Miss Errona and Charlie
Where: One of the safest places she knows: Her Office.
When: Monday afternoon, about twenty minutes after classes end.
What: Charlie requests help from Halcyon's premiere mystical retailer.


Miss Errona was running a little late, but showed no signs of trying to hurry. The man she was meeting, one Charles lastnameunknown was meeting her to discuss a certain matter of threats and protection. While it might seem uncouth to let such a subject drag, this certainly was not a new matter for him. It had taken her a moment, but she had remembered that he was the one whom she had spoken to before.

Imagine, he'd accused her of being a dealer. While she'd had no intentions of making him wait, her business in her classroom had not been completed until after the time. Rest assured, the entrance to her office, a small alcove and some space outside of it, was one of the safer places to be in the school. She showed no particular signs of hurrying as she gracefully strutted down the hallways of Halcyon in her high heels and fitted black, satin dress. White blazer folded over her arm, the dress gathered in a not too showful manner. Of course, with a figure like her own, not being too conservative still showed a certain amount of decoletage.

Her handbag dangled around her wrist under the blazer and she waved at a few certain persons with a flexing of her fingers from her upheld hand. Very ladylike, very indicative of her area of origin. Pin straight hair floating around her body to her waist. She just did not know how the women of the world got by without a Witch's bag of vanity tricks. It was hard to think you had to live with just one texture hair in life.

"Charles, Ah presume?" She asked, sidling up besides him. My, but he was very tall. Even in her tall heels he quite towered above her. Leecee was not a tall woman in any regards. A bit handsome in that rugged way. It was yet to be seen how deep his strength yet. He would find Miss Errona very soft on the inside, but hard as steel the deeper he got.

Who: Miss Errona and Vinnie Vincenzo
Where: The Potions and Charms Use classroom/Lab/Abstract Sciences classroom
When: Monday afternoon
What: You think she has those long nails for no reason? The future Lady Szczyk does not do menial labor in her classroom.

For an award winning Witch such as Aqzlece Szczyk, her classroom appeared surprisingly normal. Some of the people who had taught here before had the room look a little more arcane, but not her. With the racks of dried flowers and other assorted goods, her lab looked more like a crafts area than any sort of scary bubbling cauldron hollywood set. Before she came to Halcyon, she'd held a conversation with some other very respected magic users about what they thought about the institutional teachings of their magics. Their conclusions was resoundingly practical; removing the fear and increasing the wonder of their magics would only increase their rankings within supernatural society and allow them more freedom of economy.

Of course, her course was based around commonly known magics and explaining and having them demonstrate the real applications and preparation. This way she appealed to their commonality without betraying any true secrets. Also, the students had no idea how much basic power many of them had. Some of those projects would actually be useful for her. Especially the section about weaveworking.

But what was pleasing her most was sitting in the middle of her classroom. Once a little dusty and now shining. Once covered in old chalk now wiped clean. A desk was covered in four different cleaning products and a small grocery bag of used paper towels. Taking off her plastic gloves, Leecee was rather proud of herself. It sparkled and was exactly what she needed.

Despite the change in name of her academic course, which had certainly seemed to boost its popularity, it was every bit as intensive as her Ancient Runes and Numerology courses. She'd encouraged her students who had been in both to take this course. This way she could weave in and out of different subjects without needing to tiptoe around them. The students were every bit as perplexed half of the time, but some of them she could see their minds opening up.

It was in honor of her ancestors and the Universe itself that she felt compelled to teach them this. No longer would they walk with their eyes closed to the true meanings of the universe. Religion was a hard thing to walk into that classroom with. Unlike many pundits in the mundane world, Leecee had very real explanations for 'miracles' that not only did not lean on Science, but defied it. Most importantly, she could also display how it worked. With a smile she'd asked when they planned on cannonizing her. In fact, some saints had been Witches, but dedicated to that specific kind of magic. Humans sometimes called them "white witches" and they were often more hated than women like herself.

"Oh, excuse me. Sir, could I bother you for a minute?" Leecee was in one of her myriad tailored black dresses. This one actually fell below the knees with a slit up above the knee. little stretchy but not too clingy with a gather around a circle of semi-precious stones by the bust. Not very conservative, but hardly scandalous. Her white jacket was over her desk chair. She smiled sweetly, knowing she was still young enough in appearance to not look like some snooty, older teacher. It also helped that she breathed and respirated like any other teacher. Unlike the demons and weres, there was nothing physically about her to differentiate her from a human.

It was just when you moved beyond the veil that things got a little strange.

Who: Errona and Jake
Where: Gun Smoke Tattoo
When: just before noon
What: Errona's curious and wants a better ear piercing. Amongst other things. (like a new watch. what were you thinking?)

Now this was what the weather ought to be like. It was warmer and getting a little muggy. Nothing like she'd grown up with. The sweltering heat and moisture in the air, it made you want to run wild after the sun set. That was how life ought to be lived. But here wasn't nearly so bad. This was just a precursor to the real heat waves in Louisiana. Although the sky was dark, she was confident it would rain out and give them sunshine before the daylight was out.

Complaining, she certainly wasn't. Her pin straight hair had remained so, but for a slight waviness taking it over. She was pleased to turn a few heads through the school. When out of her teacher's garb, she could easily pass for a student she thought (if not one just out of high school. Maybe a graduate student). Perhaps it was her complicated rockabilly 'do, which she didn't really understand. Errona had been alive and gone out when those hairstyles were actually popular. A little wave in the front pinned back to a complicated wave of hair sweeping it around over one shoulder. It was flourished with a gorgeous costume pin with a wheel of silver points sprouting thin, black feathers.

Her dress was also 'vintage' and white and black. A sailor's collar modestly cut for her brassiege with the back a half foot lower. The black struck down in an angle from the right strap to skirt across her left thigh. Slit up the back cut enough to let her considerable legs move freely enough to walk, but low enough to retain her Lady-like modesty. The white and black shoes, gloves, and purse might have been a bit much for most, but in the 40's and 50's, men would trip over themselves and ask if she were a movie star.

She certainly turned heads when she walked into Gun Smoke Tattoos, sailing past some surly looking children covered in brightly colored drawings with silver dotting their flesh. Leecee walked past them like she was a movie star, even stopping to allow someone to hold the door open for her. With a flourish and a confident step, for the second time, she entered and stopped in the center of the room, holding her purse between her waist and elbow while she removed her gloves daintily. "Excuse me, is Jake available?" To someone who looked like they were slightly less surly and, therefore, working. She winked at a girl staring at her hair. No one said she couldn't have herself a great time for no reason at all. It couldn't be the weather, but she was in a fabulous mood!

Who: Jesse and Miss Errona
Where: Her office
When: 3:14PM
What: What do you think?


These days her door was closed more often than not during her office hours. It was unusual for her as she was usually very forthcoming with invitations to her office, but she'd found her personal work overpowering her professional work. Luckily, she was the type to be prepared ahead of time and, besides grading the final papers for her classes, she had finished her lesson plans.

Now she could devote more of her time to her true passion. It wasn't as if she couldn't do magic with the door open, but these were private moments for her, these latest stitches. The whitework had been laid down and now it was the grounding lines. Her eyes were only half-open, the lids fluttering as her mouth moved, mumbling while she stitched. The needle entered and looped, pulling, and she could feel it snap into place like a metal piece. It would be at least three hours more before she stopped, wiping sweat off of her forehead.

She was getting so much closer. Just a little more time. Pending her Uncle's death, and she doubted he had the power to stave that off much longer, she would be ready. Her cousins and their children were laughably no match for her, but she knew her display would have to be strong enough to cow them when she took the mantle of the family. Her grandmother's collection would once again be hers to peruse.

The knock at her door shook her out of her reverie. Frowning, she set the needle in the material and placed her hoop inside a basket which she pushed with her foot behind her desk. Straightening her blazer, she opened her door. Her first reacton was to frown; after all, she wasn't expecting him and she had better things to do. If it had been anyone except Anastasya she probably would never have bothered with the hex. Now this was causing her more time.

Of course, maybe she could turn this to her advantage. She smiled. "Ah think Ah can venture a guess at what you are here for." Leecee put a hand on his shoulder and led him in, shutting the door behind him. "Why don't you have a sit, honey." Someone had once told her that studies showed that female, southern voices were interpreted as being the least threatening to American males.

How lucky for her.

Who: Anastasiya and Aqzlece
Where: Aqzlece's office
When: During office hours when Aqzlece has free time
What: Anastasiya has a score to settle


Human children were always such a nuisance. Of course, weres were no more human than vampires, but they certainly seemed to be most days of the month. And they were short-lived enough to seem human still. Regardless, that was not currently the point. The point was, a were boy who, through his oafish attempts to gain her attention, had mortified Rebecca at a time when she was feeling most vulnerable.

Times had indeed changed for the vampiress. In years past she would have punished him in ways he'd not soon recover from, if ever. But Diarmad would not appreciate that, and Asya understood as well that it was unneeded really. Overkill. A word she had for many years not understood. Now it did make sense.

Not Anastasiya's first use of a witch. In fact, the first part of her life had been filled with witches and mages. In those days they were more common, and certainly more trusted, than doctors or scientists. Anastasiya still turned to them when the need arose. Though this would be her first time turning to this particular witch.

Aqzlece Errona Szczyk. The name on the door. Anastasiya raised her hand and knocked, a tight rap against the heavy oak. In silence she waited for an invitation to enter.

Who: Aqzlece and Wes
Where: That tattoo shop
When: Early Evening, Thursday
What: Leecee has always had this interest in tattooing...other people.

"Thank you." Men were so polite. Even the ones with all the metal and tattoos. A man in a ripped denim vest and faded cargo pants held one of the double doors open for her and smiled wide. His head was shaved and his ears pulled in whatever way gravity warranted. Leecee felt his pain, she too loved large earrings.

Today, however, he might not want to get too close. A day out on the town meant she stocked up as she was out of the school wards. Silver earrings dripped from either ear in a gorgeous spiral with different, small semi-precious stones following the path downards with a single, silver pole resting on its side. Her necklace was a silver chain with a myriad of small charms in different shapes and of different materials. It looked very posh, but anyone with mentally or other invasive powers would know to pull their hands back. Ms. Szczyk's mind was no book to be read openly.

She sailed into the store on black peep-toe heels. Her dress was black satin and, while generally modest, it hugged her hourglass figure in all the right ways. Cleavage-first, she stepped onto the white star in the middle of the floor and openly took in her surroundings. Some people turned, she definitely looked out of place amongst the students and various riff-raff. Still, she was interested and it was much cleaner and well-lit than she thought it might be.

Perhaps it would have been better to make an appointment, but she was in the city already. And had just happened to have some fresh baked goods in a basket. It was an old Southern way of getting to be nosy. Basket held in the crook of one arm and her clutch purse held underneath well-manicured red nails, she sailed up to the counter. "Excuse me, I'm just here to see Professor Venizelos. I don't suppose he's available for a tic?" She asked, laying on the accent thick and standing with one hip jutted. Smiling with glossed lips and fluttering mascara'd lashes, he was probably busy.

But probably not busy enough to refuse her muffins.