A New Game

It is November 4th, 1876 when everything changes. The air seems somewhat chilled today, as if there is going to be a storm coming. Things are strange, and no one knows why, they just go about their daily lives with the hairs on the back of their necks standing up, eyes darting around from time to time as shadows seemed to move in the corners of their minds. However, it is not simply a normal day in London, England. Even if it was raining heavily enough for the men’s bowler hats to catch water within their curve, and the women’s skirts could never be dry even if they had walked under the largest umbrella in the world.
Today was the start of a new game.

If you could really call it that, more of a challenge between old friends, and magicians nonetheless. Each sorcerer would acquire a student, the younger the better, for such tricks cannot be taught to older, more tainted minds. Each would start with a small child, and train them for years, all the while being very vague to what this challenge was really about. For one cannot simply explain this challenge without giving away how the…winner, of sorts, is announced.
The two children would be kept apart, until deemed mature and skilled enough for the game to truly be set into motion. Until then, they would learn.

The two magicians who started this game, have a bit of a secret system. You see, this game is set in stone, signed with blood and sealed with scars. Each mage would take a personal item off themselves, and give it to the other man, in a polite trade. However, when each sorcerer chose their student, they would simply place the object on their skin, and the shape would be branded into them. A seal. A scar that would never fade away, binding each child to their new opponent.
Keeping up, are you?
Good, because this game is not meant for the faint of heart, or the simple of wits. It is a deadly match, and the rules are simple.

Each time a student shows a large display of power, it is called a ‘move’.
You may not meddle, or in any way tamper with your opponent’s move before they have displayed it.
You may add to their move once it is played, in any way you like.
The moves are not judged, nor are they either good, nor bad. They simply are.
Do not give yourselves away to mere humans, unless directly confronted with suspicions. Then the choice is up to you whether you want to mislead them or not.
The playing field is all around you, may you choose your venue wisely.
And finally.
The last student left standing, is the winner…however, neither of the students are to know this fatal rule, that is, until the end.

The students meet on October 12th 1895, At the girl’s 19th birthday, and it is a strange turn of events, however the feeling in the room is the same as when this all started. Chilled, but with an edge of fire.



Note: In this RP, magicians have few boundaries to what their magic cannot alter, however there are a few simple rules to follow...be careful not to go overboard, as it will become very easy to do that with this form of ‘power’. I’ll cover some simple things, like….
Can I kill someone with magic? Yeah…but isn’t that a little impolite? At least give the poor guy a chance.
Can I fabricate objects out of thin air? Yes, but not for a long time. Basically, you may create any object you like, however it would take your constant concentration for it to keep its form as long as you needed it.
Can I make people fall in love with me? Simple minds, yes. You can affect anyone’s mind if they allowed you to, or if they simply didn’t care. Same goes for removing a memory, or similar actions. People who resist this power cannot be effected, however they can have their perception on events altered to make you more appealing, or unappealing, depending on what mood you were going for.

If any other questions come to mind, I will gladly answer them! Until then, would anyone care to join me? Preferably a male, please.

Ill join, if i got any questions ill pm. Off to the bio sheet tho

Okay, I'm posting my bio on here just to make it easier for reference.

Name: Fern Isobel Hollow (Formally goes by Isobel, friends may call her Fern)
Time Era: 1800-1900’s
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Straight
Height: 5,7”
Build: Soft curves fall upon long legs, and delicately graceful arms. She is slightly taller than average, however it adds to her odd, wistful demeanor. She is thin, however not in a frail kind of way, not whatsoever. In the way that, beneath all her skirts and corset lies a small, curved waist and other features that show she is properly matured, if only anyone would take their time to notice her. Fern holds herself in a graceful stride, appearing as if she may be either drifting or dancing when she walks.
Eyes: Dark blue, nearly black like a midnight sky, along with its supernova stars appearing as flecks of pearl white in her eyes. On a bright day, they may appear a more navy blue, however they always seem to catch people off guard when they spark in that strange way, as they have since she was a small girl.
Skin Colour: Cream with sugar, except for her lips, which have a faint colouring of rose, making them look as if she had just bitten into a lush strawberry.
Hair: Long, with flowing elflock curls that always find themselves catching in the breeze. Fern’s hair is the color of rich coffee, standing out on her porcelain skin with hints of honey and auburn. It is rather wavy, in a romantic fashion that only falls out of its elegant braids when she is reading, or in her bed chambers. In public, she has it always in a long braid, or multiple, pinning it back so those mischievous little baby curls don’t fall over her cheeks.
General Appearance: Enchanting, in the way that goes unnoticed by so many, including herself. She holds an unconventional beauty, with her pouting upper lip falling slightly larger her bottom one, her long coy eyelashes framing intelligently wide eyes, below soft delicate brows. She is a strange girl, one that looks as if she should be in a mermaid lagoon instead of a library, although that is where one can usually find her.

Clothes: Fern is usually in white, or cream. Each dress in her wardrobe is made of expensive silks, or delicate lace, with flowing skirts folding around her, and a tight corset making her small, curved waist prominent. Many outfits can be seen accompanied by white umbrellas, or soft pastel shawls. Mostly in slightly pointed brown ankle boots, laced up tight on her tiny feet.
Scars: A small, hardly noticeable white scar, a burn from when she was a child on the inner left side of her right wrist. It is in the shape of a pocket watch.

Personality: Highly intelligent, and always looking for a way to bend the rules, and somehow get around the mundane and get in touch with the spectacular. She is very odd, in the way that some do not understand, however she finds it easy to make friends with her intellect. She is very good at figuring people out, even on a first impression…although, it is kind of strange that she does not know anything about herself, and what lies inside her own mind. She does not notice the small nervous habits and physical tendency’s she shows, like constantly looking around a room, as if waiting for someone even when her chaperone has already arrived. Other habits include twirling her hair, creating imaginary circles on any surface her fingers meet, and hardly ever making eye contact with anyone.
Hobbies: Fern is constantly pouring over books, and scribbling things down in her own journal, and on the sides of the novel or article she has come across, adding her own notes to the story. However she is also very intuitive when it comes to animals, and enjoys the theater.
Backround: Many say that her mother died in child birth, but few know the real story. Madly depressed, Fern’s mother took her own life when she was pregnant. However, out of the ashes arose a flame, when Fern survived and her mother did not. Then she was sent off to live with her father, a man who couldn’t have cared less if he had a daughter, or if a woman bearing his child had died or not. Only weeks old, Fern grew up with this man, learning the art of enchanting and manipulating with a natural gift.

*Preferred Weapon(s): Since she became a young woman, she has been told by her father to keep a small knife along her thigh, hidden in a band on her stockings and under layers of skirts.
*Preferred Power(s): * Manipulating/Enchanting (it’s kind of hard to explain, but bear with me, it’ll make sense)




Appearance:

Spoiler:

Spoiler:

Name: Ethan Barisov
Age: 21
Sex: Male
Species: Human
Ethnic: caucasian
Skin color: light tan
Distinguishing features: a scar of a circle with a line creating a cresent shape within it
Height: 5'10"
Build: lean
Weight: 145lbs
Hair (color:style): brown three inch length top with tapered sides
Eyes: coal gray
Hat: n/a
Shades/glasses: rectangle wire framed glasses
Jewerly/peircings: n/a
Coat/Jacket: black sailcloth trench coat
Top: blue velvet vest with silver buttons over a white cotton long sleeve shirt and a black tie
Bottom: black slacks
Shoes: dull black thick soled penny loafers
Personality: withdrawn and perceptive
Hobbie: reading spell tomes, study, practice, and meditation
Background/secret: on my 21st 'birthday' the man i grew up calling father told me something i had always suspected. He kidnapped me at the age of 4 and removed all the memories he could of that past life leaving me knocked out for a few days. When i awoke he proclaimed it was my birthday. 17 years of seclusion and study later resulted in the young man i am today.
Powers: conjuration/alteration and spellcasting
Prefered weapon: a slender dagger with wolves etched into the bone handle
Medical disorder: anxiety

Ooc: Brilliant! Alright, well I'm ready to start.

bic:


November 4th 1876, London.
Lysander Hollow’s Study.

Two men sit across from each other in a dark, dusty old study. The sun barely leaks through the cracked and rotting shutters, and a soft rustle of feathers can be heard from behind a dressing curtain, where a large black crow sits, his eyes shimmering with a strangely human quality.
The two men are here for means of business, although they’ve been friends for countless years. These meetings happen once every few decades, the men remaining ageless through a magic that is only spoken about in fairy tales and legends. A magic that they know well, for it courses through their veins like thick blood, sustaining their life and causing them to appear as middle aged men forever…if that is what they want.
“Why have you called me here, Lysander?” One man says to the other.
The response is matched with what appears to be a slightly bored, however, amused smile. “I believe you know why, Terrance.”
They stare at each other for another few minutes, before Terrance nods. Lysander continues to look as if he would rather be anywhere but where he was.

“A new game, then? I hope this time you find a pupil whom you can bear parting with.” Terrance grins across the table at the other man, and Lysander humors him with a small chuckle.
“I believe I have already found my student.” He says, and no more than a blink later, they both heard the gentle coo of a baby awakening from slumber.

Lysander stood, walking over to the cradle, which was nearly unnoticeable in the dark room, covered by a burgundy curtain. Without touching the curtain, Lysander moved his fingers slightly and the fabric pulled itself to the floor, revealing a small, baby girl. No more than a few weeks old, with eyes that glowed like the night sky. Her mother’s eyes.
Lysander picked up the child, looking down at it with a look that held all of the emotion one would look at a cup of tea with.

Terrance was still sitting at the table, however, he was much more amused now then he had been moments ago. “Well, that makes things interesting.”
As Lysander opened his mouth to respond, the baby girl began to cry. Buttons of tears welled up along her eyes and dropped heavily onto Lysander’s vest. In response, he frowned lightly, not quite knowing what to do.
Her crying picked up after a second, and as one of her tears slowly fell down her cheek and dripped onto the floor, the porcelain cup of tea sitting in front of Terrance suddenly shattered.
The two men exchanged a look, and as quickly as it had broken, the tea cup quickly put itself back together, the hot creamy liquid falling back to its place within the cup, with no more than a small ripple remaining as any doubt that the cup had been shattered only moments before.

Terrance stirred his tea with a chuckle as the girl’s crying slowly subsided into a soft coo once more. Lysander put the child back into her crib, and returned to his seat.
“She has a natural gift. Only an infant, and already breaking things.” Terrance said with a shake of his head, “But no control, I would have thought better of your decision, Lysander.”
Lysander’s bored look returned to his face as he brushed off a button on his vest, “I didn’t pick her, she was given to me. Mother was some whore in Dublin, killed herself.”

A moment of silence, before Terrance blinked.
“Your own daughter?” He said as he glanced over at the cradle, noticing how the curtain had pulled itself back over the crib.
“I have no doubt that she will win this game.” Lysander said, leaning back in his chair. “I will not have my student lose again.”
Then, the two men smiled at each other like old friends, and dipped their hands into their pockets, fishing out whatever small object they had on their person at the time.
Terrance removed a small pocket watch and placed it on the table, and Lysander removed a charm, around the same size. It had fallen off some unnamable piece of his wardrobe some days ago, and it was in the shape of a little, perfectly round crescent moon.
The two men exchanged objects, folding them into their breast pockets as they stood, clasping hands to seal the deal. The air seemed to shake for a moment, and swiftly, Terrance turned on his heel and exited the room.

Lysander was left alone in his study, with the child in the corner and the crow still rustling and cawing softly behind the dressing curtain.
As he gazed at the tea cup that had been broken only minutes before, he felt an amused grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. This game would be an interesting one, if Terrance’s student was as good as his last.


October 12th 1895, London.
The Hollow Manor.

Fern did not recognize herself. The dress she wore was much too expensive, and her hair was down with only a few braids here and there framing her porcelain face. It wasn’t her usual self, it was a form of her that was dressed up by her governess and maids. However, it was what her father wanted.
A tap on her door made her look up from the silk embroidery of her dress, and her father stood in the doorway with a small box in his hand.
Fern stood, politely nodding her head to him. “Father.”
“You look lovely, darling. But stop slouching, you’re a young woman now.” He walked over to her, tapping her chin twice to make her look up.

Lysander Hollow appraised his daughter with a slight frown, shaking his head lightly. “No, no the color makes you look too young. I want you looking your best tonight.” And as he touched the gown, color started seeping from his fingers, making its way over the fabric of the dress until it was all a pale pink. He nodded, satisfied with his work.
Fern sighed lightly, raising an eyebrow at him as he turned to walk away. “You still haven’t told me why tonight has to be so…so grand.” She shook her head as she sat back down on her bed, folding her hands in her lap.
Her father turned as he stood in the doorway once more, looking at her with a faintly bored look crossing his face. “Tonight, my dear, you will meet your opponent. And the game will truly begin.”

The door closed behind him and she sat alone on her bed, eyes wide with curiosity. Tonight? Why tonight? Everything she had been studying, what she had been training for…it would all begin tonight. She was hardly sure she was ready, however she didn’t have much of a choice.
A soft thump gave her a start, and she looked over to her vanity mirror, where the small box that had been in her father’s hand was sitting on the desk.
In elegant scrawl, Happy Birthday, was written along the top in blood red ink. Carefully, she removed the lid and a faint noise escaped her lips as she gasped.
Looking back at her with wide, crystal blue eyes was a kitten. It was white, with tufts of hair rising along it’s back and tail.
“Hello…” Fern murmured, picking up the kitten with a small smile, her soft laugh echoing around the room as the kitten rose up to brush itself along her neck, tickling her lightly. She placed it on her bed a moment later, with a quizzical look along her face.

“Father’s never given me a pet before.” She said to the kitten, as it stared back at her. What was it about tonight that had so much weighing on it? A chill passed her spine as she sighed, shaking her head lightly as soft curls fell over her shoulders.
“Well, you need a name.” She said, absentmindedly gazing down to her wrist, where the pearly white scar of a pocket watch stood out faintly against her pale skin. “Milo.” The name fell past her lips before she could really think about it, but it sounded fitting.

Shortly, one of the chamber maids called for her, telling her that it was time to make her appearance. With her hands shaking nervously, but her jaw set, she walked down the hall toward the ballroom, her corset digging into her chest and making it hard to breathe. Perhaps if I faint, I won’t have to make an appearance at my own party, she thought to herself, however it was too late, and the doors were already opening for her.


Dress:

Spoiler:

My adoptive father and i stand at the base of an average height of steps leading to a seemingly unremarkable landing with a half dozen pillars supporting the sweeping roof. Upon entering the double doors however the unremarkable town house is anything but ordinary. A reception parlor the size of the illusion outside greets my sight. What the room lacks in furnishings it makes up for with paintings of many long lost times along either side wall and a grand staircase leading to a second floor. Standing in the middle of the room is a man of roughly similar age to my father dressed in a dark red waistcoat and a pair of dark brown slacks who greets my father and i.
"Welcome Terrance! You look just the same as when last we met. And this must be your 'son'?"
"Well met old friend. This is Ethan, as you quickly assumed this is my 'son'. If i may ask when will we be introduced to your, no doubt charming, daughter?"
"Fern should be down shortly, she is probably just not acting herself on account of this being her birthday and the party i have planned for her. If you two will follow me to the ball room you may refresh yourselves from the journey of the road. I assure you that when my daughter gets over her fear and joins our guests i will personally introduce you both."
"We would appreciate it very much Lysander, and thankyou for your hospitality." My father nods slightly, as if the two of them have a secret nobody else knows of, and leads me away as Lysander starts making his rounds socializing with his guests. Steering me through the crowd my father speaks quietly to me. "Ethan, tonight is a special night for both you and Fern though neither of you know why. Be warned though, if this young lady looks anything like the woman i suspect is her mother then she is a stunner, however she is your enemy. Tonight there will be no troubles though, this is merely to introduce you to one another. Enjoy yourself tonight, come tomorrow you must guard yourself. Now go and mingle, Lysander and i will find you once his daughter comes down."
"Yes father." I nod slightly and search out a quiet corner from which to watch everyone assembled here. While i wait for my father and his friend i tap my foot softly and rapidly.

Lightheaded, Fern pulled at her soft white gloves, until they covered the scar on her wrist properly. Then, with one last breath, she walked into the ballroom. At first, she only noticed how many people there were scattered around. She didn't know all of them, most likely most were friends of her father. Slowly, she stood at the top of the steps, putting one hand delicately on the railing to keep from swaying as she walked.
Her father's voice cut through the sound of blood pumping in her ears. "My daughter, looking as lovely as ever." He called with a tone of amusement, as he met her at the bottom of the stairs. Fern felt a soft pink hue enter her cheeks as she gazed around the room dreamily, feeling something strange in the air. Her opponent was in the room, she could feel the power that bound both of them together in this strange challenge. It made it hard for her to concentrate properly, as she let her father take her arm and guide her around the room.

As he introduced her to his social circle, she couldn't help but try to read each of them as she walked away. Each person could have been her opponent, they could just have been good at hiding it.
"Are you going to tell me now?" Fern whispered in her father's ear as he handed her a glass of champagne.
His eyes narrowed slightly, "How many times must I tell you, it doesn't matter who he is. It doesn't matter if you two know each other, the game will play out."
Annoyed, Fern felt her frown form into more of a pout. "Then why must you tease me? Tell me my opponent is going to be here, but not who he is? Perhaps you're taking this game too seriously, father." She set her champagne back on the tray, eyes dropping to the floor as her father's voice got dark, the kind of tone that used to frighten her as a child.
"This game is more serious than you can imagine." He hissed down to her, as she brushed her hair over one shoulder like a dark curtain, shielding herself from his narrowed gaze.

His voice returned to its amused lit after a moment, and he proceeded with showing her around like his prized little doll. Fern sighed, looking down at her much-too-beautiful dress and causing the silk-embroidered vines along the hem to move slightly, as if they were alive. After a second, she stopped and looked up from underneath her long eyelashes.
"Terrance, this is my daughter, Isobel." Lysander Hollow approached his old friend with a knowing look, the kind of look they shared many years ago in a small study, speaking over glasses of tea.

Fern gave the man a graceful curtsey, nodding her head politely and painting her soft red lips with a gentle smile. "Please, call me Fern. My father is quite taken with introducing me with a more formal name."
Terrance chuckled as he took one of her gloved hands and bowed, "You are a vision, young lady. And this is my...son, Ethan." he stepped to the side, so Fern could peek past him at a figure that stood with his back against the wall. The feeling of stepping into a bath of ice surrounded her, and she felt her gaze drift around the room, wondering for the hundredth time where her opponent could possibly be, and if she would know him when she saw him.

While scanning the assembled group for anyone around my age i notice my father once again speaking with our host this evening. This time however he is accompanied by a young woman who seems to share similar features. "This must be his daughter.." i catch my fathers mention of me, as well as the not so subtle shifting to the side. With no option left to me i walk over slowly.
"So today is your birthday? How quaint, the last time i saw you was when you were an infant. If im not mistaken it was your birthday then too." My father smiles and waves me over as he finishes his thoughts. "Ethan, this is Lysander's daughter Isobel. As i have no doubt you over heard me today is her birthday."
"Nice to meet you, and happy birthday." I smile and extend my hand alittle towards her. "Im Ethan, though im sure my fathers already told you my name."
"Come Terrance, theres a few friends here tonight. Let the kids get to know one another while we go and see what is going on in the world."
"A splendid idea! I should very much like to see Mordaci and learn of his last trip. Ethan, this is not our home. Lysander would not appreciate it much if you cause a big scene at his daughters birthday party. Once again Fern it is a pleasure to see you all grown up now." My father smiles before turning on his heels and following Lysander out of the room.

Distracted, Fern gazed around the large ballroom, the sound of the band flowing around the people who seemed to squish together in small groups, chatting over champagne about the weather and such.
It took Fern a moment to realize Ethan had extended his hand, and a faint scarlet blush crept up toward her cheeks as she took it lightly, bowing her head lightly again.
Only moments after, her father and Terrance decided to take their leave. Fern felt the shock on her face as she stared after the figure of her father, mixing into the crowd. Why was he so quick to leave her with someone she had just met? Biting her lower lip, she found it easier to look at her hands, which were folded together under her white gloves.

“Perhaps, you might call me Fern?” She said, phrasing it more like a question, a soft smile finding her lips as she tucked a stray curl behind one ear. “I’m more familiar with my informal name, it sounds less…” She shrugged lightly as she finally looked up at the boy. The word was lost on her lips as she looked away quickly. In the light, he was rather handsome.

More people came up and wished her a happy birthday, and Fern simply smiled at all of them, repeating the same ‘thank you’ each time with a curt nod, until her cheeks began to hurt from holding her face in the same expression.
With a faint sigh, she turned to Ethan as her smile dropped, her face returning to its usual pout as she found her words once more. “Would you like some air? I’m finding this room more and more suffocating by the minute.” She laughed breathlessly, walking over to one of the long, glass doors that led to a stone balcony. As she touched the door, she looked over her shoulder, trying to sift through all of the faces she had met tonight, and attempting to figure out who her opponent was. Cold, night air hit her as she left the ballroom, and she breathed it in as the breeze caught on her hair, looking up at the cloudy sky and trying to find the moon, although it seemed like a more difficult task than finding her opponent in the crowd of bodies just moments ago.

With nothing better to do i follow Fern outside and silently wonder what she is thinking. If the hints my father dropped today are to be believed then this young woman is my opponent in some game our fathers have designed. Shrugging the thouht off i follow behind the birthday girl. "A fine night, if alittle nippy. This isnt your type of event is it?" I turn back towards the doorway and lean against the railing. I ponder showing off so Fern can gaze at the stars which she seems to be rixed on finding. Quickly i dismiss that heeding my fathers request and shift to watching the other guests. Every once in a while my eyes wander to Fern trying to figure out if my conclusion is is correct or not.

Fern let her head drop slightly, eyes closing in embarrassment as he noticed how she was hardly entertained by the party. "Am I that obvious?" She sighed with a small smile, shaking her head at herself as she leaned against the balcony, facing the trees and sky, her gloved fingers meeting the cool stone as they traced invisible circles.
"I'm not one for parties, but my father is." She lifted one shoulder in a kind of shrug, looking over at Ethan, who stood facing toward the party. "However, it does not seem like your kind of event either." She noted with a faint, playful lit entering her voice, eyes twinkling brighter than the stars could have, if they were out that night.

Fern was better at noticing things about people than going up and talking to them, however, this man seemed a little more harmless than all of the smiling, powder-faced puppets in the ballroom. The way he had closed himself off to the shadows, standing in the corner when she had first seen him. Much unlike his father, who held little resemblance, if any to his...son. Terrance had seemed like quite an outgoing man, a friend of her fathers.

Placing her elbow on the balcony, and her palm on her cheek, Fern blew a stray lock of hair off of her face, the trees seeming to tremble in the distance from her breath, although it was just the breeze. Her eyebrow raised slightly, amused, she sighed. The closest tree to the balcony quivered gently, a few of its amber leaves drifting to the ground. She watched them, forcing herself not to play with her magic in the company of a guest.
"Perhaps we should return inside, yes?" She turned after a moment, facing him and rubbing her upper arms slightly. Without a jacket, her fingers were getting colder, cheeks getting rosy pink from the breeze tickling them. "It was lovely to meet you, Ethan. Hope to see you again before the night ends."

And with that, she bowed her head delicately and turned toward the glass door, the warmth of the room hitting her as she returned to the ballroom. Shyly, she looked over her shoulder at Ethan through the glass, wondering if he could be her opponent. Bodies blocked her gaze as she walked around, taking a glass of champagne and finding her father amongst a small group of men and ladies.
"A word, father?" She tapped his shoulder gently, and he turned, the look on his face quizzical, as he clearly expected to see her on the arm of someone who was not there.

He leaned down to her, and she frowned up at him, wanting to knock his brandy glass out of his hand. "You're drunk." Her expression turned slightly shocked, "Father, please, this is torture." She shook her head, putting a hand on her cheek lightly.
Lysander gazed down at his daughter, features twisting into a slightly annoyed smirk. "Fern, enjoy yourself. Stop worrying about the game for one second, you prune." He scoffed at himself.
"If you would just tell me-"
"Enjoy yourself, it's your birthday after all." He cut her off, plucking the arm of a young man that was walking by. Fern recognized him from one of her many introductions earlier, but quickly her father pushed her closer to him.

"Dance." He raised his drink for a moment before he returned back to his circle of friends. Fern frowned, biting down on her lower lip as the boy was already taking her to the dance floor. She put her hand on his shoulder, eyes wandering around the room as she danced. If she hadn't been so annoyed, she probably would have enjoyed herself. But this little act was starting to become childish. Her father had hardly even told her the rules to this 'challenge', keeping things simple and vague.

Faintly, the chandelier above her and her partner began to tingle as Fern become more annoyed, the crystals tinkling together so lightly that it would have gone unnoticed by the party guests, however, across the room in opposite corners, both Lysander and Terrance had their eyes locked on the glittering crystals.

Ethan stands outside leaning against the rail with a slight smile across his face. Keeping his eyes on the doorway he notices a slight movement from a chandlier. Looking down ethan sees only his father and Lysander seem to be noticing this quite unnatural event unfold. Without thinking he starts turning the support into a more dense material to prevent anymore movement. Keeping the chandler steady Ethan looks to the people assembled on the dance floor. 'Perhaps i am right after all..' at the end of the peice being played by the band he releases the chandlier and quickly fade into the crowd.
Terrance spots the boy weaving through everyone and silently approaches. "Ethan, how are you enjoying yourself?" Behind the joyful tone there is a darker meaning which is quickly revealed. "I thought i tod you not to show off? Why did you stop the chandlier?"
"I thought it would be knocked loose by whoever was controling it, therefore i restrained it." Ethan is careful to keep his voice down just in case anyone is listening in. "Why didnt you or Lysander do anything about it?"
"Dont question your elders boy. Lysander and i would have taken care of it if anything were to happen. You were right of course to take action but next time trust in us to prevent any misfortune that could befall anyone other then yourself. Now go talk to the guests, and perhaps dance alittle. Who knows you may come out of your shell yet." Terrance leaves ethan on the fringe of the crowd with a laugh and absent wave.

The music stopped, and Fern bowed her head politely to her partner before stepping toward the crowd and off the dance floor, sighing lightly to herself. Over the years, her father had told her about this challenge, and trained her in magic. Years of writing down ancient runes, whispering incantations under her breath and waving her wrist in order to control a nearby object. It came naturally to her, however, so did a temper. She was not the type to throw tantrums as a child, or scream for something she wanted...no, her temper was much more tame. However, also much more dangerous.

Absentmindedly, she looked up at the crystal chandelier, rubbing her upper arms as she hugged herself slightly. That had been close, her emotions had slipped away from her. It had apparently been happening since she was a small child, which was curious. Whenever she brought the subject up to her father, he would never really answer her. It was not common for magicians to be able to control things in that way, through direct emotions. One would usually cast a spell or wave their fingers in a physical enchantment.

"Your control is slipping." A whisper in her ear made her jump, turning around swiftly to gaze up at the black eyes of her father. "And you should really keep your guard up, my dear. Your competition is close now."
Frowning, Fern looked down at her father's brandy glass and gracefully twisted one of her fingers around it in a quick motion. The brandy turned to water, and her father's amused look turned annoyed. "And you, dear father, should return to your lovely guests. I'm sure they must be missing you." She said in a quiet voice, looking away from him as she found she could no longer stand to be around the man.

When she looked back up, he was gone. She shook her head faintly, and walked toward a long marble pillar, pressing her back against it to watch all of the people who had arrived to attend her birthday party.
A man approached her, and it took her a moment to recognize the man as Terrance. "Good evening, Miss Hollow." He smiled at her, a smile that reminded her much of her fathers.
Forgetting about her frustration, she returned his smile, worry fading out of her clouded eyes, clearing them of annoyance and making them a brilliant deep blue. "Good evening, Terrance." She let him take her hand for a moment as they nodded to each other.
She followed his gaze toward the chandelier, and her heart nearly stopped for a second at the way he was gazing at it, knowingly. "Lovely party, yes?" He murmured as he brushed past her, leaving her with a quizzical look across her face, and wondering if the man who was much like her father could perhaps be her opponent, if he had noticed such a small detail.

Ethan walks slowly trying to clear his mind when Terrance taps his shoulder. "You shouldn't have interfered. Lysander and i were enjoying the show after all."

"I did it for safety only, otherwise i would not have paid attention." Ethan looks back towards the chandelier puzzled still. "What caused it to start rocking?"

"Honestly i dont know all the factors but one thing is for sure, they were rather annoyed when it happened."

"How is it possible to influence anything through sheer emotion? Or is it the lack of control that caused it?"

"Alittle of both, but that doesnt concern you. Lighten up and enjoy yourself. Talk to people, dance with someone.. whatever you do i suggest you quit walking around here like you have been. People may start wondering what you are up to. If you arent enjoying yourself though and just want to sit quietly with company doing the same i believe Fern would like to go back outside. You can find her on the other side of the room against a pillar."

"Why do you seem to want us around eachother?"

"No reason, now go try and find her or something." Terrance walks off briskly and fades into the crowd a few feet. Ethan watches silently knowing its no good to follow the man. After a moment he starts walking around the edge of the room avoiding everyone's sight.

One glass of champagne later, Fern was no longer concerned with the frivolous game she was involved in. If her opponent was somewhere in the crowd, he hadn’t made himself known, and her father was stubborn enough not to tell her, no matter how hard she tried to get it out of him. It was getting rather late, and Fern tried to remember the boy she had met earlier. The one with the deep gray eyes and something strange about him. He had been with Terrance, however they didn’t look much alike. They shared the brown hair, and a similar skin tone, but the features were all wrong. How curious.

Humming softly along to the music that flowed through the ballroom, Fern gazed down at her feet, hair falling into her eyes as she hugged her arms, thinking about slipping away from the party and heading to her chambers. No one would even notice she was gone, the way most of the guests were drinking. Her father, especially.
Curling a stray lock of hair, she pushed her back off of the marble pillar, walking toward the glass double doors once more. The way she walked along with the music was strange, like it was some kind of graceful dance until her fingers touched the door. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled softly to herself when no one had even noticed her. That was one thing Fern was good at, going unnoticed. However, she did not see the pair of coal grey eyes that had followed her across the room. The boy who she had been introduced to hours ago, along with Terrance. Although, his name was a mystery to her at the moment.

The balcony was welcoming, along with the cold breeze that had only grown since she had been outside earlier. A wistful sigh escaped her lips as they parted to take in a brisk breath of cool air, her feet stepping before she could even think about it, bringing her to the edge of the stone balcony. As she gazed upward, the sky was black with murky grey clouds.
Tilting her head to the side slightly, she bit her lower lip as she focused on the clouds. One of her hands raised up above her head, and slowly she pretended to brush away the clouds, revealing a full moon and bright stars. She left one of the smaller clouds drifting lazily with the breeze, grinning to herself, she let her hang drop, winding her arms around her waist as she blinked her wide diamond eyes, gazing upward and leaning dangerously forward, daring herself to fall into the endless sea of the night.

Having just been outside moments before Ethan creates a long medium weight coat and follows Fern out just as she parts the clouds. After a moment or two he coughs alittle to let her know hse is there and slowly walks over. "I saw you come out and figured you'd like a coat or something since its gotten alittle more chilly out here."

Rather then wait for a reply he sets the coat alittle off to Fern's side and walks back towards the door.

It wasn’t so bad, Fern thought to herself about the party. The music was nice, and seeing such lovely men and women in such beautiful attire couldn’t be as awful as she was making it out to be. It was just this challenge that had been hanging over her head for nineteen years now, and as the clock chimed midnight she couldn’t help but feel a little silly for letting the night slip away so quickly without doing much other than being a pain in the neck to her father.
A voice made her jump, and she turned with a quick intake of breath. A relieved sigh followed as one of her delicate hands raised to lay itself on her chest as she smiled faintly. His name sprung to her lips, and she was kind of glad that she had not forgotten it.
“Ethan, has anyone told you not to sneak up on people. Gosh, you’re like a ghost.” She gazed down to the coat at her side, and gently folded it in her arms, looking down at the fabric for a few moments before she put it on, hands falling low into the deep pockets.

He was already walking away, and she chewed on her lip for a moment before taking a small step forward. He was not the worst company to have on her birthday, hardly. In fact, he seemed like a rather nice young man.
“Forgive me for being so bold, but your father is a very…mysterious man.” Fern paused, tilting her head to the side slightly as if her own words had tasted strange in her mouth. She was not one for gossip, but she loved to hear people’s stories. Many times, her questions had gotten her into a bit more trouble than she could afford.

Carefully, she took a step back to return to leaning against the balcony, wind tickling her nose. She grinned at the breeze, looking outward past the trees to where the sky touched the earth. Perhaps it was meaningless for her to try to get Ethan to keep her company once more, but she had not seen him dancing during the evening. Or sipping champagne with the other younger guests. In fact, she hadn’t seen him for a few hours, since he was outside with her earlier.
She brought her wandering eyes back to him after a moment, studying him closely now with an insightful look, like a cat gazing at its prey.

Ethan turns around slowly unsure if he heard Fern speak or not. Seeing her turned around he moves back to a respectable distance for conversation. "You mean Terrance? He's not my real father. He adopted me when i was young though and is the closest thing i have to one. As far as being mysterious.." Ethan shrugs not quite sure how to go on with his thoughts. "So, if you don't mind my asking, why arent you inside? This is the party your father is throwing for your birthday after all and you dont seem to be enjoying it at all."

Fern nodded politely when he said he was adopted, a sudden realization creeping into her eyes, along with a bit of annoyance at herself that she hadn’t figured it out quicker. As he spoke, a clever grin appeared on her lips and she parted them just so a soft laugh could escape.
“You notice things other people do not,” She noted as she avoided the question slightly, looking away from him as a slight embarrassed flush crept its way past her collar bone, toward her cheeks. She hoped it was too dark for him to see the red blush, and casually turned her face toward the ground, looking at the hem of her dress, and the silk-embroidered vines creeping their way up to her waist.

After a moment, she sighed. “Honestly, my father enjoys showing off. His home, his taste in music and even his daughter.” She shook her head faintly, turning her back to Ethan and facing the moon once more, although her voice carried on wistfully. “And his unhealthy obsession with games…” She noted, blinking after a moment as she turned slightly to look past her shoulder at him.

“G-games…like cricket, or chess. Of course.” She caught herself. Even if Ethan was not her opponent, she wasn’t supposed to let things like that slip so easily. People were not to know about magic, even if they were polite young men who were rather dashing.
She hugged the coat closer to herself, the sleeves dangling a little past her fingertips in the way she used to love as a girl, although young ladies weren’t supposed to enjoy such childish things. Even so, she placed a hand on her throat thoughtfully as she tilted her head to the side, curls falling past her shoulder. Another coy smile caught on one corner of her lips, and she turned to look at Ethan once more. “And I do not know where it is written that a girl has to enjoy a party.” She raised an eyebrow at him, teasing him slightly in the way that old friends do, even if tonight was her first night meeting him, and there was no guarantee that she would ever see him again after tonight.

"Other people just choose to ignore what they see. Theres a joy i pride myself on, being unjudgemental that is." Ethan looks towards the moon that the clouds are starting to cover again slowly. "Well, i dont know much about showing off but if he does then so be it. He has a marvelous home he has earned. As far as games well.. everyone does have at least one fatal flaw usually."

Ethan notices Fern holding herself. Assuming shes cold he takes his jacket off and taps her shoulder. "It looks like you are still cold? As far as your father showing off his daughter well, why shouldnt he? You are young, attractive, and have the whole world and you life to do with what you will." Ethan bites his tounge softly and starts mentally beating himself up. 'Stupid! Quit distracting yourself! You dont know her, she could be you opponent. And what are you doing? Trying to sweet talk her! Stupid, stupid, stupid!'

"You are right though there is no rule, law, or otherwise that says a young woman has to enjoy being at a party. It is uncommon though."

As the soft grey clouds began to fall over what she had made a crystal clear night, Fern pouted lightly at the sky. However, before she could do anything about it she felt a gentle tap.
Eyes finding Ethan standing a little closer than before, out of habit, Fern pressed her back against the stone balcony, trapping herself. He was offering her his jacket, along with the one he had brought her. Her playful smile turned into something softer, but instead of taking it, she touched the fabric gently as he held it out.
“As you may come to notice, I do not play within the lines that most girls do.” And with that comment, she placed her hand over his and folded his fingers tightly around the fabric, pushing it back to his chest. “Besides, I kind of like this weather.” However, although she had not mentioned it, she felt almost guilty for him removing his jacket. That thin dress shirt didn’t seem like it held up very well against the wind, and she was truly more comfortable in the later months of the year, when the leaves turned amber and then frosted over.

As he complimented her, she raised one eyebrow with a growing grin. That look entered his eyes, and her eyes seemed to twinkle as she watched his expression turn to something more controlled.
That look was something she was starting to notice more with young men, whenever they would catch themselves saying something that perhaps they should not. However, in this case, Fern did not mind one bit. In fact, it made him seem much more human, the growing suspicion of him being her opponent fading to the back of her mind.
“Well, aren’t you lovely.” She raised one of her pale white, gloved hands to her mouth to stifle a girlish laugh, teasing him in a friendly way once more.

With a curtsey, she brushed past him, stopping at the door to look over her shoulder at him curiously. He was a rather curious fellow, Ethan. She did not know much about him, although she got the sense that this would not be the last time she would see him. Hardly.
“And I hope you know, sir, I pride myself on being uncommon.” She grinned elfishly, before she opened the glass door and disappeared to her party. Fern was a strange girl, and although many of her guests tried to think of a reason for her smiling the way she did when she walked across the ballroom, they simply could not place what had been responsible.

Shortly, Fern had returned to her bedroom, unlacing her corset and dressing in her innocently white lace night dress. As she walked to her bed, she couldn’t stop gazing at the scar on her wrist shaped as a pocket watch. It had been covered by her gloves all evening, her wandering eyes unsatisfied until now. As she sat on her bed, she was greeted with a soft ‘mew’.
It came from the small white kitten on her pillow, and she smiled as she remembered the gift she had gotten from her father. Gently, Fern scooped up the kitten and walked toward her window sill, sitting in front of it as she gazed outward for what felt like the hundredth time this evening.

“I wonder who it could be, Milo.” She murmured softly to the kitten, before she closed her eyes for a few moments. When she opened them, she had her hand balled into a fist, knuckles white as she concentrated on the sky, eyes turning black as coals, with embers of blue flickering in their depths.
And then it started, the first move of the game. Enchanting lights began to flicker across the sky in streaks and blooming stars, colours painting themselves along the tree tops. To any guest that remained in the Manor at this time, it would simply appear to be a very elaborate display of fireworks. But wherever her opponent was, he would feel it. The electricity sparking through the air as her move echoed like the aftershock of a bomb. She felt it, her first large display of magic beginning to settle as the challenge truly began.

Noaticing the display outside both Lysander and Terrance slip away from the party without drawing attention. A few moments later Terrance joins Lysander already sitting cozily in his own office. "It seems the game has begun and my daughter has made the first move. Truly I must say i didnt expect something this brilliant. Perhaps you want to back out before the challenge is met?"

"While i must agree Fern's display is impressive, i dont hardly believe that i should forfeit. Nor is the challenge not met. My son is patient. If i am right tomorrow morning we will see his display which will be no less impressive."

"We shall see then. Should he fail to meet the challenge in a weeks time however his life is forfeit as is our usual agreement?" Lysander extends his hand to his friend.

"A week then." Terrance shakes to the terms. After that the mens discussion moves to bets on what Ethan's move will be.

------

Ethan watches Fern go inside again leaving him to his contemplations. While me sits at the base of the rail he tries to figure out if he did anything wrong to upset her, but the way she smiled while she left.. just then colors flare on the ground and Ethan looks up from the patch of ground he had been staring at. 'The game has begun..' Ethan looks back down continuing his thoughts while he absently traces a rune on the pavement. Upon completion it disappears and Ethan stands. Adjusting his eyes with a simple spell he marvels over his handy work. 'Anyone looking out tomorrow will be in for a shock. After stretching himself he moves inside, smiling to himself, to find Terrance and see when they are supposed to be going home.

Fern awoke the next morning with her face pressed against the cold glass of her window, eyes fluttering open delicately as she looked down at the ball of soft white fur in her lap, gently petting the kitten as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. Slightly stiff, she stood from her windowsill where she had fallen asleep watching the sky, and scooped Milo, her new kitten, up under one shoulder.
Just as she was walking away, she paused, turning back to the window as she gazed down to the vines that climbed along the edges of the walls, and the bushes that seemed to have small blossoms budding along their edges although all the flowers in her garden had died long ago from the seasons changing. These plants were different.

With a growing smile, she opened her window, poking her head out as she set the kitten down on the ground. All the foliage that surrounded the pathways below seemed to be lush and healthy, however they had not been there last night. Fern laughed in the breeze that tangled her elflock curls, closing her window as she put a hand on her cheek. The second move had been made, and it was her turn next. Like a game of chess, but…a little more complicated perhaps.

Fern dressed in a lovely, thin white cotton dress, managing to toss her tangled curls into a loose braid that fell over one shoulder. With Milo trailing on her heels, she ran barefoot down the halls of the manor until she found the large dining room, where her father sat alone, drinking a cup of tea and reading.
“Did you see it?” She called to him at the doorway, breathlessly.
Her father looked up with one eyebrow raised as he appraised her. “Where are your corsets, girl? And your stockings, come on, you aren’t a wolf-child.” He turned back to his book with a flick of his fingers, the spoon in his tea turning on its own.
She sighed, blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes as she hugged her arms. “Did you look outside this morning, father?” She tilted her head to the side as she stepped toward the grand table, taking a seat nowhere close to him.

As if only speaking to humor his daughter, Lysander didn’t even look up. “Yes, and I really expected better of you last night. I thought you would have figured it out by now.”
Placing her face in her palms, Fern frowned lightly. “It’s difficult. My opponent was there, I felt him, but I couldn’t place my finger on the person.”
Lysander took a moment to respond. “Like I said, it hardly matters who it is. Just concentrate on your studies and your moves from now on, my dear.”

The day passed slowly, Fern’s lesson that day involving transfiguration, in which she had to change her sweet little kitten into a silk glove, and many other things. The cat didn’t seem to like that, and dashed off to the halls to roam aimlessly.
Evening approached, and so did the night. However, when the next morning came, Fern was already up when her governess game to wake her. She turned away from the window where she had been gazing down at the foliage, and gave the woman a questioning look.
“Your father would like to go out for brunch, Miss.” She said with a polite smile. Fern returned the smile, and minutes later she was standing at the door in a light cream dress, with pearl buttons tracing a line down her back. White gloves covered the pocket watch scar on her wrist, and her familiar braid fell past one shoulder.

Lysander appeared as if out of the shadows, putting a hand gently on his daughter’s thin waist as he guided her to the coach.
“Now, please be on your best behaviour, my dear.” He murmured into her ear as they walked, and she raised an eyebrow faintly in questioning. “My old friend and his son will be joining us, I believe you met them at your party.” He tossed her a pointed look, before they left the large manor. Fern gazed out the window thoughtfully, the green vines and bushes vanishing slowly as they went into town. Nervously, she found herself tucking her hair behind one ear and straightening her skirts, in an attempt to look presentable for Ethan and Terrance.

Terrance and Ethan sit on opposite sides of the table in the fair morning weather. As customary Terrance has the mornings paper in front of him with a cup of tea which he occassionally sips at. In all the years hes been to this resturant none of the waitresses or waiters have caught on to how his tea never gets cold. Of course it could simply be that they change so often too.

Preoccupied with his own thoughts Ethan is tracing random meaningless patterns on the table cloth. So quietly only he can hear his stomach grumbles. Rather then complain he ignores its protests and continues waiting with the man across from him.

"They are here. Quit slouching and look presentable." Terrance slowly folds his paper and the pair stand as Lysander and Fern join them. "Goodmorning. Im so glad you both could make it. We've only just been seated a few moments ago. The waitress should be back shortly though to take orders."

"Thank you for inviting us. It gets boring with no company around, doesn't it Isobel?" Moving on quickly Lysander turns back to Terrance. "Perhaps you and you son would like to come visit more often? We have plenty of rooms for guests and neither of us would be inconvienced to meet."While they are talking Ethan takes his seat and continues tracing a finger over the cloth.

It was a dreary day in London, something that was not uncommon to Fern, and she found that she quite liked the weather in town when it was like this, how the clouds seemed to cast everything in black and white monotones.
As Lysander and Fern walked toward a small café, secluded in the streets to the common eye, she found herself unable to avoid stepping through some of the puddles that had formed through the rain that had probably been falling earlier that morning. However, no matter how deep the puddle, her skirts always stayed dry.

Lysander greeted his friend with a warm smile when he saw him, and the two proceeded to converse as Fern took a seat beside Ethan, watching her father speak across the table to Terrance. When he brought up the topic of the two men staying as guests in the Manor, Fern felt her teeth click together faintly. What was he talking about? Her father never allowed guests to stay with them, no matter how many rooms were unoccupied.
“Yes father.” She answered simply, chewing on her lower lip in thought. What was so special about her father’s friend and his son? She had to admit that they did seem like a rather interesting pair, if not a bit…distracting.
Catching herself peeking up at Ethan beside her, she looked toward her silverware with a small smile. Yes, quite distracting indeed.

Moments later, the table was filled with plates of food and a fresh pot of tea. Fern raised a bright red raspberry to her lips, popping it in her mouth as she added a cube of sugar to her tea.
“Aren’t you a quiet one, Miss Hollow.” Terrance grinned at her from across the table, and in response, she felt her eyes brighten slightly.
“I find it quite dull when people speak when they do not have something meaningful to say, so I try not to bore others around me with little…frivolous thoughts.” Fern replied to the man, tilting her head to the side faintly as if she were playing a little game with him. “Unless you might find it interesting to listen to me ramble like a fool for countless minutes.”
Lysander grinned at his daughter, “Good thing I did not raise a fool.”
After a pause, Terrance let out a loud, whole-hearted laugh, “I think I might have to take you up on your offer, Lysander. Your daughter seems quite entertaining. What do you say, Ethan?” He looked toward the young man across from him with one eyebrow raised, daring him to refuse. Meanwhile, Fern simply gazed across the café out the window, where the sun seemed to be breaking through the clouds in beams of light, ears perking up as she listened closely for a response.