izarding
izarding
Realm
Realm
It's summertime in Scotland; the weather has begun to clear, and the flowers are in full bloom! Now is a time for bonfires, stargazing and long nights spent with friends and family! Welcome to Wizarding Realm- an AU Harry Potter role play set in current day hogwarts!
WR
 
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll

 O Death, Hermelin (Tine)
Hotaru Myeong
· · · · ·
0
0
Awards:
Mar 15 2018, 01:09 PM   Link Quote
In the dimness of the dungeon there was a flash of pale alabaster fingers twining black cloth strings around an equally pale neck. Her skin shone like radiant moonlight, a ghostly aura casting a halo around the curves of her petite body hidden beneath the dull colors of night and smoke sky. Curled at her feet, its tail swishing lazily around the heels of black boots was an equally black cat. The witch’s familiar opened its laser green eyes, its maw parting to reveal a pink tongue and glistening porcelain teeth-bones as it meowed quietly into the silence. Void like eyes lifted to the corner as the witch’s head listed and then turned downward, her chin pulled by the call of the creature. Her eyes glittered like oil in lamplight, so deep was their color that it was impossible to tell the pupil from the iris. “When one goes to visit death it’s important to look presentable,” she said in her soft-spoken voice. There was urgency and a lone note of lingering pain in her words yet her pleasantly pale face betrayed nothing of the depths of her emotions.

Hotaru knew that Salem had been privy to her agony, that it had seared the shores of her peaceful lake and burned like molten lava rupturing through the deepest parts of the seas. Her pain was a volcano erupting again and again beneath the surface. She had not been able to save the Moon Calf, it had died, albeit peacefully, still trapped in pain. There had been only the option of allowing it unconsciousness, yet its body had twitched and spasmed with each shot of pain searing through its nerves. The creature’s death had been on a molecular level and Hotaru had not been able to stop it. She had tried, Ningal had tried and neither of them had managed to save the purest of creatures. The image of its bloodied body in the Forbidden Forest flashed before her eyes, the drying red of the blood matching the shade of her lipstick. Her fingers twitched as they tied the bow at the nape of her neck then fluffed the razor tips of her ebony hair into place. For a long moment the witch stared at her appearance, death would be pleased to see her taking time to look presentable. The aunts had told her never to rush to its doorstep but never to shy away.

“Come along,” she said, pulling a studded purse from a coat rack and slinging it across her body. The skirts of her dress bounced with each step and she could sense the pull and slack of her tether to Salem, the cat padding quietly beside her. Seasons were changing, her mood had not improved and she had missed quite a few of the festivities the winter term had brought, but her heart had been in mourning and she was just now staggering to life in its aftermath. Spring blossoms defied the cool temperatures, winter was hesitant to give way to spring and clung tenaciously to the darker corners of the world. To the shade provided by trees and stubborn clouds still set on making days grey and gloomy. They paused only to look at a single Dandelion which had budded early for the season, her body dropping into a crouch as her pointed nail caressed the underside of the petal. A faint smile gave her face expression, joy rupturing beneath the surface. Then they were off again, the witch chatting quietly to the cat who trailed along beside her; their mood improving with the energy flowing from them.

The Mortician’s building appeared as welcoming to the living as it did to the dead. Hotaru’s back arched a bit as she looked up at the sign, fingers fiddling with the strap of her bag. Don’t rush to its doorstep they had cautioned, but she felt a sense of belonging in this quiet world and the magic called her forward. Inside there would be no blood and no noise, she knew that she could find some sort of peace just by lingering within the building’s four walls. Yet her call was not to this place, she was coming to lay a soul to rest; not to dance and live among them. A breath’s span later and the bone witch pushed inside, the door shutting quietly behind her. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the change in light and she watched the little dust particles dancing in the diminished beams filtering through the window panes. Her head canted to the side like a bird studying its prey. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting but it hadn’t been this.

“Hello?” she called to the expanding silence, eyes seeking shadows within the darkness.

Tine · 32 · Mortician · Neutral · Pureblood · 6'1
Banned
Offline
2799
48
Awards:
Awards: 16

Mar 15 2018, 02:17 PM   Link Quote
The windowsill in Hermelin’s living room was full of candles in intricately designed holders, some merely meant to hold a tea light, others to hold those long candles one would expect during a romantic dinner date - or during a funeral service. They were of different colours, yet black and white dominated, with a few exceptions of a burgundy red and a royal purple. A single one was smaller and almost shaped like an egg, tinted in a shade of willowy green. It was placed beside the red one, the outsides of both candles touching and the molten wax meddled so it was impossible the candles apart without using physical force. Those stood for his wife and his deceased child, and he lit them every day, replacing them once they were burned down with the very same designs and making sure they would never be placed in a different way. A Gemino charm had done the trick, offering him an almost endless supply of these candles. Yet the most striking ones were the white ones in silver holders, thin and large and not showing the same signs of having been burned one too many times. Hermes and Jean Grimm had passed away recently, and in order to honour their deaths, Hermelin had placed those two new candles in the middle of the windowsill.

Views might not have been a prior point of former inhabitants of this house, yet the windows of the living room did not lead towards the cemetery. Instead, one could see the open fields that had yet to turn golden again, and the edges of the forest. He liked sitting here in the mornings, watching deer appear in the fog and sometimes coming close enough to stand by the fence of his back garden, before a sound chased them away again. His office was located by the cemetery, as well as some of the bedrooms upstairs. It was a view he had never been scared of, yet recently it had become a reminder again. All life ended, and still he wondered why his own continued while those of the ones he loved ended with ease. It was not the only change, as he had to get used to living with two teenage girls - girls who, at times, left their things lying around and occupied the same bathroom as him, adding products he had never seen before to the rather spartan collection of shaving foam, shower gel and toothpaste he owned. These moments of the day when he lit a candle were holy, and no one disturbed him then - not even his black cat which was most likely out hunting mice and rats right now, while Heidi the possum was asleep in the wicker basket he used for buying groceries down in the center of the village.

With Isabelle and Isolde at school, he took his dear time, scratching the match over the side of the box to light it before holding it onto the blackened wick of the white candles. It felt wrong to light the flame with magic, as if the motions of lighting a match with his hands were a tribute to the dead. For a long moment, Hermelin closed his eyes. Prayers had never been practised in his family, as death did not discriminate either. He needed no beliefs in the world beyond, not even after he had lost so many to the void of death. The scent of the burned match spread quickly, even after he had blown on the small flame. Caught in the motions, he had not heard someone opening the door he never locked, leaving his house as a safe harbour for those who experienced shipwreck all too often. He did not know when he had started to collect all the broken and abandoned ones, yet he was set on making a home for them - for an hour, or a day, or maybe even longer, depending on how long they needed it.

Death was not always the end - sometimes it was just a gate to another world, no matter how that might look for the person in question. He wanted his house to be a gateway like this. But he had not expected a visitor, flinching and dropping the extinguished match as someone called out a questioning Hello. Hermelin cleared his throat and ran a hand through his tousled hair before he left the living room, walking into the main hallway just to meet the gaze of a young lady with exceptionally large eyes. “Hello? Can I help you?” he gave back, shoving his hands awkwardly in the pockets of his pants. Maybe she was a friend of his nieces, as he had not seen her here before. Maybe it was something else. But whatever it was, Hermelin was sure she would reveal her intentions within the next minutes.

@Hotaru Myeong
(clothes)

--------------------
user posted image
user posted image
Signature made for me by Sammeh <3
Hotaru Myeong
· · · · ·
0
0
Awards:
Mar 29 2018, 09:41 PM   Link Quote
There were no words to describe the creature before her. He who was crafted from the dust of bones and ripe flesh of plump pomegranate interwoven delicately beneath the surface of the pale, translucent sheet of his skin. Hotaru was certain that before her stood the appropriate vessel for the death god, a shinigami hiding in plain sight, wearing mortal flesh. Yet when her void eyes blinked the image distorted and became mundane, muted by the drab and dark colors of his clothing. Shining only when the light hit his skin. The bone witch noted that at the right angle his eyes could turn to nothing more than sockets and his mouth could pry itself open. A shiver slithered down her arms and her burns ached at an image overlaying itself atop the keeper of the dead. His mouth grew stitched, sometimes bleeding very lightly against the thick string that marred his lips in the grotesque shape of the letter X.

Her familiar meowed and Hotaru's gaze wandered in the silence towards the feline at her feet. She bent down, gave her arm to him and allowed his laser green eyes to focus on her own. The breath came easier now that he was close, his heartbeat falling into sync with her heartbeat and the breath shared in the space between him. His small puffs of air were exhaled and Hotaru inhaled, taking in parts of him gradually expelled and always shared between them. She licked at her ruby lips, returned that omniscient stare back towards him. "Hello, I was wondering.." she halted in her speech and instead of shouting across feet, began to walk towards him.

She moved with a quiet ebb and flow, like mist stretching out along dead decayed leaves and hallowed ground. The razor sharp ink of her hair swaying with the motion and yet everything about her was completely still for all the movement that possessed her body. The bone witch's feet brought her to a halt before him, head tipping back to stare into his eyes so that she may see the truth of what lurked beneath his outer shell for herself. So that she may know if deception was the mood of the day. For even the daylight lied. "I'm sorry to intrude. I was wondering if you did embalming? For... for creatures and not just humans?" Her voice caught on the word "creatures", the phantom blood that had stained her clothes that night making its presence known against her skin.

She's been soiled by life blood, molded into this being by the fingerprints of Ningal and the shadow boy. The fire had left its mark as well, her shoulders sometimes aching, her scars sometimes burning in the twilight hours. And now she was here, ready to be sculpted into a different sort of existence where she might now know the peace of death but rather the noise it made as it snuffed out life. Some nights Hotaru could still hear the bleating of the Mooncalf, and it would trigger memories of dying sheep in a flood. She could feel her heartbeat stirring to life, swallowing back the violence so that it would contain itself to her. "Or do you offer cremation services? Could you make an exception if you don't? I can pay you."

Tine · 32 · Mortician · Neutral · Pureblood · 6'1
Banned
Offline
2799
48
Awards:
Awards: 16

Mar 30 2018, 12:21 PM   Link Quote
When one dealt with death for too long, losing contact to the living was easy - and in the end, maybe it had been a sign from celestial forces Hermelin did not even believe in when his nieces had moved in with him. He had started to begin losing contact with the living already, rather spending time among those who were dead and taking care of the graves in the small cemetery he called his own although it was a patch of land that belonged to Hogsmeade, if anyone wanted to claim it. The walls around it were rather low, as if the villagers had never been scared of the dead. In Germany, things had always been different, as he had travelled the country and saw a variety of graveyards and cemetery. In Bavaria where he had been born, elaborate metal crosses were almost more common than gravestones carved by stonemasons, leaving those without work. New burial practices were the latest trend, cremations the prior choice as they were cheaper and whole burial grounds extinguished because there was no need for so much space any more. An urn took up less room than a coffin, and gravestones were recycled - sometimes for art, sometimes for worse things. It was a sad development he tried to ignore.

It was one of the reasons why he had stayed in Hogsmeade rather than returning home, even though the one who had kept him here was no longer alive. Here, he had buried his wife and his child, a child that had never received a name for it had died too soon. Back home, these children were called Sternenkinder - star children; babies born before, during or after birth. An oddly poetic way to describe something so painful, while children up to a certain age or weight did not even receive a funeral. Hermelin remembered when he had placed his wife’s body in the coffin, muscles having loosened again once the rigor mortis had left her body again. The child had been placed in her arms, a tiny woolen hat he found in the many things Ygritte had bought for their baby covering its head.

The meowing of a cat that was not the sound emerging from Ludwig’s throat distracted him, pulling him out of those all-consuming thoughts he sometimes allowed to graze his mind. Hermelin stared at the cat, then back at the girl who had walked so freely in his house that it spoke of someone who was not afraid of encounter death. The mortician did not move as the girl approached him, calmly standing in his hallway as if he was a visitor himself, and not the owner of everything that surrounded them: the pictures on the wall that moved, the books, the abandoned pair of shoes beside the door. Her question almost made him huff, as it was an odd one - was embalming not one of the things someone like him did for a living? Practically, it was not, as to embalm, one needed a special branch of the art of being a mortician, a diploma assigning the profession of a Thanatopraktiker to them - a word so complicated and typically German that there was not even an appropriate English translation, diminishing all that was done to the word embalmer.

“I offer both, depending on what you would rather have - and what kind of creature it is. I assume we are not talking about dragons and hippogriffs here?” Hermelin asked, raising a brow at the girl who had not stated her name yet. In a business like his, names admittedly did not matter quite as much, as in death, everyone was the same - no matter what their blood status or their origin had been. The man did not care about the girl’s money in that moment, pointing at the open door to his right and her left. “Would you like to discuss this over a cup of tea? Or coffee, if you prefer that.” I certainly do, Hermelin added mentally before taking the lead and walking into the kitchen that was decorated with a round table in the middle, four chairs with cushions on the seats surrounding it.

@Hotaru Myeong

--------------------
user posted image
user posted image
Signature made for me by Sammeh <3
0 User(s) are reading this topic (0 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

Topic Options
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll


 


 



ADMIN MOD