(no subject)
Back home, Tersa had grown used to people who would, without realizing it, literally never sit with their backs to her.
Good instincts, she would have said, if she'd been able to get the words out--and remember why she wanted to do so.
Dealings with Black Widows, even those who were clearminded, were like holding a handful of glass shards. One could easily find themselves bleeding unexpectedly, and might or might not ever understand what they'd done wrong. For Tersa, it wasn't that bad anymore. Years spent among people who weren't users, liars, had eased some of the fearfulness and tangled memories.
The dark-Jeweled, more powerful Blood, aristocracy such as Saetan and the Dark Court, took that sort of thing for granted. It wasn't meant as an insult to her, only simple honesty as to who and what she was. Not as strong in their magic as most Blood were, but the Widows' sort of craft was more subtle, devious, than about outpowering one's enemies.
She had found a balance of sorts over the years. Both sides of her had reached an...understanding? Neither pushed out the other.
Craft or artwork, simple but creative things such as her current project, were soothing. She looked down at the little table in her room at the Bar.
A necklace that could be worn by either a man or woman,
silver worked in the shape of a dragon. She smiled to herself. Lorn's wings... The eyes were green stones. The wings spread outward to rest against a wearer's neck.
Back to basics. This was a lesson she'd learned among the Arachnians. How to attract, englamour someone, and then spring the trap. Young witches were taught something akin to this while learning to defend themselves.
Two spells forged into the metal. One would draw someone's eye, if they were the sort to feel greed or jealousy, the emotion would be magnified. The other would be activated by touching the necklace. A spell of compulsion. The person holding the necklace would be bound to speak the truth so long as it was in his or her possession at all. They could refuse to speak, but if they opened their mouths, whatever they said could not be a deliberate lie. On any subject.
The spell would fade, once the piece was no longer in their grasp, to be gone within perhaps a day.
She regarded the necklace, and nodded. Tucking it away,
forgotten already, as she hadn't meant it for use, only for a practice session.
She left her room and walked downstairs in search of hot food, and perhaps company.
ooc: was thinking that while this isn't as inspired an idea as some posts I've read, it might be casual fun for people to play around with if the talisman aka hot potato changes hands. Tersa will lose the necklace--and
if someone wants to find it, what they do afterward is up to them. *g*
She'll look for it, once she realizes it's lost, but this is Tersa: she wouldn't necessarily notice that for a while.
Good instincts, she would have said, if she'd been able to get the words out--and remember why she wanted to do so.
Dealings with Black Widows, even those who were clearminded, were like holding a handful of glass shards. One could easily find themselves bleeding unexpectedly, and might or might not ever understand what they'd done wrong. For Tersa, it wasn't that bad anymore. Years spent among people who weren't users, liars, had eased some of the fearfulness and tangled memories.
The dark-Jeweled, more powerful Blood, aristocracy such as Saetan and the Dark Court, took that sort of thing for granted. It wasn't meant as an insult to her, only simple honesty as to who and what she was. Not as strong in their magic as most Blood were, but the Widows' sort of craft was more subtle, devious, than about outpowering one's enemies.
She had found a balance of sorts over the years. Both sides of her had reached an...understanding? Neither pushed out the other.
Craft or artwork, simple but creative things such as her current project, were soothing. She looked down at the little table in her room at the Bar.
A necklace that could be worn by either a man or woman,
silver worked in the shape of a dragon. She smiled to herself. Lorn's wings... The eyes were green stones. The wings spread outward to rest against a wearer's neck.
Back to basics. This was a lesson she'd learned among the Arachnians. How to attract, englamour someone, and then spring the trap. Young witches were taught something akin to this while learning to defend themselves.
Two spells forged into the metal. One would draw someone's eye, if they were the sort to feel greed or jealousy, the emotion would be magnified. The other would be activated by touching the necklace. A spell of compulsion. The person holding the necklace would be bound to speak the truth so long as it was in his or her possession at all. They could refuse to speak, but if they opened their mouths, whatever they said could not be a deliberate lie. On any subject.
The spell would fade, once the piece was no longer in their grasp, to be gone within perhaps a day.
She regarded the necklace, and nodded. Tucking it away,
forgotten already, as she hadn't meant it for use, only for a practice session.
She left her room and walked downstairs in search of hot food, and perhaps company.
ooc: was thinking that while this isn't as inspired an idea as some posts I've read, it might be casual fun for people to play around with if the talisman aka hot potato changes hands. Tersa will lose the necklace--and
if someone wants to find it, what they do afterward is up to them. *g*
She'll look for it, once she realizes it's lost, but this is Tersa: she wouldn't necessarily notice that for a while.