Mod Journal for St. Margaret's. (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} saintly_mods) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} st_margarets,@ 2015-11-07 14:34:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Thread: Parasites
WHO: Cressida possessed by Hecate, then EVERYONE!
WHEN: Saturday evening, right after dinner time
WHERE: The hunter’s lair, the school, the graveyard, the woods
NPCs: Ms. Menides, hunters
| Hecate was known by a number of names, depending on the civilization. The word "goddess" was simply a label placed upon her, though whether she was a goddess or not was arbitrary. Especially now that the whole world hung in a dangerous balance. Beings like Hecate no longer made themselves known and many of them existed as entities now that the rest of the world, and their chief believers, relied more on science than they did on faith. So for Hecate to come into this world, it would take a great deal of magic, and a figure of great faith. Faith did a funny thing to a person. Made them susceptible to serving as a host because he or she would be willing to do it. And in Cressida Hallowfen, Hecate found an extremely willing host. She'd kept an eye on the witch since she was just a girl. Hecate bestowed Cressida with her first familiar. A Cretan hound that Cressida would affectionately called Argos. Never once had Cressida's faith wavered, even when it lost her a future with the man she loved and perhaps still loved in a way. Such willingness to bend to Hecate's need and her position at the school, so close in proximity to an old friend of Hecate's, made Cressida not just a willing host, but a perfect host. So when Cressida finally laid down to rest from her long labours spent with other witches to track down the intruders, Hecate acted. Cressida was there still, somewhere in the recesses of this mind, but the psyche was dominated by Hecate, goddess of magic. Wearing a robe over the night gown, she walked barefoot with not only Lord Byron at her heels, but other members of the canidae family that felt the strong influence of Hecate. Foxes primarily and even a wolf that wandered into the area. They surrounded her as sentinels until the possessed form of Cressida saw the Fury. "Tisiphone," she stated in a voice that was Cressida's but layered with another voice. Like two people speaking simultaneously. Cressida's appearance itself looked different too. In some lights she looked like Cressida and in others her hair was darker, like a moonless night, and her eyes a midnight blue flecked with stars. Even her nose at certain angles appeared different. Grecian, much like the dress that shimmered violet over the dark blue of Cressida's robe. *** Ms. Menides balled her right hand into a fist. It was done. Before her lay the smoldering remains of the hunters that had dared trespass her school, had dared take the life of one of hers. The ones that had dared, somehow, to bind her in this mortal body and deprive her of her visionary qualities. Her eyes reverted from an intense, furious white to their normal dark shade as her fury abated. For now. It had been all thanks to Ms. Jordan. She had been able to track the hunters, pinpoint their location. Then Cressida had taken over, gathering the witches among the faculty and calling in help at Nazar. They’d done a powerful scrying ritual, finding the hunters right there, in Camden. At her door. When Cressida had given Ms. Menides the information, the fury had said very little. Possessed by an eerie, unnatural calm, Ms. Menides had risen from her chair and had said but one word, in fact. “Come.” You cannot stop the Fury. Ms. Menides had walked into their lair, as easy as if their magic and their locks weren’t even there. She had surprised them, talking at their kitchen table, and Ms. Menides had narrowed her eyes. They began talking, shouting, but Ms. Menides hadn’t listened. The time for talking was done. She had simply shown her true self to them, and then she had let them burn. “Tisiphone.” Ms. Menides blinked, feeling a quaint feeling she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Surprise. Huh. She turned around, tipping her head to the side. “Lady Hecate,” she said, giving a sage nod to the woman who was more than Ms. Hallowfen. “It has been a while since I let myself go like that.” *** It had been some time since Hecate spoke with the Fury. Centuries. Millennia, actually. Years passing to others as an eternity but for Hecate it was an instant. Old didn't even been to describe the ages of the Fury and the Witch Goddess. There was a glimmer of a smile there before her eyes rested upon the destruction left behind. Hell has no Fury. St. Margaret's did. Did the students there even have a passing idea of what sort of woman their headmistress was? Likely not. The smile on Hecate's fast didn't last though and faded as quickly as it arrived. "There has not been reason to," Hecate said, stepping forward and drawing closer to where Ms. Menides stood, "But it is not over. I come bearing a warning." Magic was a very broad term and words like sorcery and witchcraft also attached themselves to Hecate. The face shifted a little to another, the same dark blue of the eyes but white like the burning of a dying star shimmered, "Something is coming." It was so vague but Hecate could only see so much. Whatever it was, it was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. As much as people wished and desired for gods to know all, they unfortunately did not. For even "gods" were limited and Hecate found herself frustratingly so. *** In the graveyard, something stirred. Something not from this world. It had waited for this, waited for the fury to fuel their plan. And now she had. The time had come. This was their chance. It looked alien. A quadrupled being with a long, forked tail, with sharp claws and teeth. It looked like it was made of skin, bones and muscle, barely any meat on its frame, bones sticking out at every angle. Spindly and thin, but it moved like a predator, more determined than even a cat. And, what was worse, there was intelligence in its amber eyes. Its tailed flicked. A fissure in the air appeared, seeming to spring up from the broken headstone. It started out small, a tiny tear, but it ripped itself open. Soon, it was large enough. The one on this end let out a little keen as the first of the host jumped through. And then another. And another. Soon, an army had formed. Not just small ones, as large as a human, but some were bigger and bulkier, the size of minivan. They gathered quietly, looking at the castle as they did. And soon, they had determined there were enough. In the light of the setting sun, they took off: towards the castle. Towards the dorms. This is where they would start. And through the portal, more kept coming… *** Bethany and Martin were casualties. However, before their fiery end, their signal had been reached by the other hunters of their Order and those individuals were moving in fast. They had been waiting for this, sign of the Otherworldly ones to try again to break through to this realm. Martin had taken a risk with the vampire to lure them out, and it had worked, but he’d paid for it with his life. They were clever, the beings from the other dimension. The chameleon scout had successfully coaxed the rage from the fury to power their portal. Hunters from all over were closing in. They knew what was coming. They’d seen it happen in other worlds. Their Order was made up of witches who were in tune with the earth, sensitive to its changes, and the earth itself powered their travels so that most of them arrived just as the portal was tearing wide open. This wasn’t just a threat to St. Margaret’s. Their whole world was at risk of invasion if they couldn’t stop the flood. The hunters would set aside old grudges and join forces with the Academy to face this greater threat. The enemy of your enemy is your friend. *** Ms. Menides blinked her eyes. She Knew. Her sense was back, but it didn’t make her feel relieved. She now knew what she had unleashed. “I have been a fool,” she whispered. “We have to get back to the school. Immediately.” She reached for her phone and, as she strode off, she began calling her faculty. Micah. Micah was most likely to be in the dining room. |