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Rowan
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PostSubject: Witchcraft   March 10th 2017, 5:33 pm

Rowan Shayne was not your average Witch. Hell, she wasn't even your average woman. áLong, jet black hair fell past the smooth curve of her ivory shoulders in wild layers. Piercing jade green eyes glittered ethereally, the only tell-tale sign that she wasn't fully Human. Smoke curled up thickly from the small, fireproof bowl in front of her. It's sweet and earthy scent both cleansing and relaxing at the herbs slowly burned to ashes. With a single black raven feather, she expertly wafted the smoke around, forming a large circle. There was no need for ritual words. She was a Natural Witch, not a Made one. What she knew had been passed down through the generations and her abilities had been passed down through birth. The bell to her little shop jingled, but she neither broke concentration, nor her focus as she addressed the newcomer.


"Give me but a wee moment, love and I will be right with ye." The song of Ireland danced in her methodical voice as she spoke. It wasn't thick and overbaring, just enough to draw attention. Using the feather, she pressed the smoke back down into the bowl, grounding her power. Immediatelty the burning embers of herbs snuffed out as if they had been doused with water. Snapping out of her semi-trance, her jade green eyes shifted up, taking in the figure who had just walked in her door. Her gaze immediately was drawn to the glowing white eyes. She had seen her fair share of Vampires, Shifters and Demons, but the eyes of this man walking towards her had her breath hitch in her chest to where it was almost painful.

"Take your time, beautiful." He replied, his own voice husky and laced with the barest accent that for the life of her, Rowan couldn't place. Where ever he hailed from, it sounded sexy. There seemed to be an innuendo behind his words. Did he mean for her to take her time with her little cleansing. or was he speaking of her blantant staring? How could she not? He was; for lack of a better term, beautiful. It was a downright masculine beauty, though he was more along the slim side. Lean, taunt muscle packed into a thin build. He almost reminded her of some famous actor that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"It's alright. I am already finished." She replied, pushing the bowl and feather aside.

"A pity." He mumbled beneath his breath, knowing by the faint arch of one of those perfect brows of hers that she had heard him. A cheeky grin flashed across his sinful mouth, showcasing just a small hint of fang. "I have been sent here by-"

"The Montriarch." Rowan finished for him. She tapped her right temple with a well French manicured nail. "She sent word ye were coming, though she didn't say who she was sendin'."

"Good, then I get the chance to introduce myself." The Vampire stepped fully into the glowing candle light, revealing rich black hair that fell past his shoulders, shimmering like a dark waterfall of silk against his pale skin. The near snow white of his eyes made him appear blind, though she knew very well that he was not.

Roawn smiled faintly. "I already know who ye are, Kenyon; Vitae o' the Aluka."

The gothic Vampire snorted faintly. "It's the eyes, isn't it? Tends to give it away."

She shook her head slightly. "No. It's yer power, love. Ye keep a lot of it hidden, locked away from the pryin' eyes of yer Brethren. Draven is the only one who knows what ye are capable o', and it is much more than what Dasani knew." She paused for a moment before continuing. "A shame, his Death. She takes it hard, his loss, though she tries to deny it. Though I fear she mourns Radraven more. She was a lovely woman."

Kenyon felt a painful constriction in his chest at the mention of his former love. He looked away from the Witch. She saw too much. Would she see his pain as well?

"I am sorry for ye loss as well, Kenyon." Though she saw what he tried to hide from others, Rowan wasn't one to over-indulge on the emotions of others, especially when they were suffering. "Now for the Montriarch's request. 'Twill not be an easy task. However, if my assumptions are correct, Trine is bound to his Shifter companion. As long as she lives, she carries a piece o' him with her. Consider it his insurance policy, if ye will. She dies, he will nae be able to return from the Ether."
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