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What the hell is she even doing now.
There, Malva could be seen wrecking her entire room, searching for god knows what. Surrounding her was a few crumpled sheets of paper that had been previously scribbled on. Her books were lying on the carpeted floor not so neatly and so was her pillows and blanket. Even her clothes were lying just about the door. She was even pulling out stuff from under her bed, which was boxes of her enchanted stuff that she didn't find the need to decorate her room with. Not long after, she peeked her head out from underneath the bed as she leaned against the wall of her room with both her hands over her face. "I must've misplaced it.. Where did I put it.." That was the same question she has been asking herself for the past 3 hours.
Yes, she has been doing that for over 3 hours ago.
Whatever she was searching for, it was important or at least significant enough to the Aspect of Magic, especially seeing as how distressed she was upon finding out that she could not pinpoint the location of it. Fluttering her eyes open once again, her sapphire hues scanned her entire room, which was a bit spacious when given, and got up from her seating position. Mumbling a few words, it was no doubt that she was casting a tracking spell. Well, she was desperate to find it and what's the harm in casting a small tracking spell to find the very thing she sought out for, in the first place?
A few seconds later, a wind blew towards one direction, her other extended room where she kept all her potions and enchanted items in. She walked as fast as her legs could carry her and unlocked the door, stepping inside as her right hand made a swift movement to take the thing she has been searching for the entire 3 hours. It was a small trinket. Her red ruby pendant. The pendant that glowed so malevolently as the energy that was contained in it. Since it was a given that the Russian born Aspect was not a fan of dark magic, she made sure she never needed to summon the energy to cast it whenever she was called to do so. In return, after she had created such a powerful vessel to hold in the dark energy, she would only need to tap in it as her source. She knew witches and wizards liked to be unique and creative, and she was not excluded from the lot.
Malva has been busy, and thought it was only possible for her to clear her head if she had went somewhere that offers her tranquility and serenity. The closest place that offers her all of that would be near the river bank, which holds as the residency of the diviners. She couldn't remember the last time she had went there. It's been a while. Truly. Shoving her spell journal and a few papers in her bag, she wrapped herself in a scarf and made a swift movement for the room to be tidied up. What's the use of having magic under your sleeves if you can't make use of it to your advantage at times? Closing the door as she locked in, she made her way downstairs and passed the guards that were coming in and out from the entrance door. By now, she was sure everyone knew their preferences and being one of the most temperamental sibling from the lot aside from her elder brother, Erythreus, they know not to dwell within her company if she does not ask for one.
After a while of not getting used to her dragon transformation, she decided to retest it out, just for the sake of rekindling the fires that needed to be rekindled. In an instance, the slightly flaxen haired Aspect had transformed into her purple dragon form as she soared through the skies and found the river bank not far off from where she was at. Taking her place to land in between the trees, she was grateful their dragon forms were invisible to the eyes, since it would've been weird to see a dragon flying around. Even for supernaturals. Slowly reverting back to her human form, she made sure to trace her amethyst pendant that gave her the ability to transform into one. She missed the times where she would just fly around for the sake of peace in her own mind. Coming out from the trees, she took a seat by the boulders near the river stream and placed her bag next to her.
Malva took out her spell journal and skimmed through a few pages until she stopped at one that was half way written, undoubtedly unfinished. She grabbed a quill and began writing something down, probably finishing it. The wind blew through her long locks, those she only bothered to braid half way. It was weird that she was using a quill and not a pen, but despite living in the modern days, she wasn't accustomed to it as easily her younger sister, Cora, did. Besides, she had enchanted it.
Wyatt sighed and put a hand through his hair in frustration. The words on the pages were starting to blur and he could feel himself being drained of energy. The diviner wanted to push forward. He had to...
It had been three weeks since his return from Ireland where he'd gathered some intel that a lost necromancer coven had been wiped out after the long wars between their kind and the fae. The war between the two were devastating throughout history. Countless lives were lost and with it, much of the magical artifacts, amulets, spellbooks, and other history the two species had to offer. That was where Wyatt stepped in.
The new passion he'd taken was finding as much as he could from their lost histories throughout the world. If he wasn't working his normal job as a photographer in Evermore, flying different clients globally, or documenting the many places around the world he would be sent to photograph, Wyatt was researching as much as he could about the lost covens of the fae and necromancers. He'd been asking Aaliyah, the ambassador to the diviners, as many questions about their species as he could. Within a few days, he'd had a handful of notebooks stuffed with possible leads to discovering new tribes that had been lost to time.
So here he was now... Sitting on the floor of the forest and staring down at the notebook that belonged to an Irish necromancer coven member from centuries ago. It had been buried on a remote island amongst the rubble of a lost town which was destroyed by the fighting. It had taken him days to correctly translate the spellwork. There was only one problem remaining; Wyatt was no dark diviner. The magic was rather advanced and was meant for necromancers. He being of the fae, made it much harder to master.
His green hues looked at the language on the pages again and he shut the book in frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as the sun beamed through the trees, hitting his face. It was like the burning star knew it needed to replenish him as he sat there drained with an incoming migraine. Wyatt stood up and packed the crystals, candles, and blanket he'd laid out to perform the spells. Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he tucked the small book into his jacket pocket before setting out towards the river.
The diviner broke through the tree line and had finally reached the water where the sunbeams danced on the top of the river. The warmth of the sun made him feel instantly better. It was like a battery being recharged. He would try again. Dark magic or not, Wyatt wanted to learn more of diviner magic whether it was for light or dark members of the coven. It would only help him be stronger which could lead to the others becoming stronger in turn.
His thoughts had been so distracting that the sudden movement of someone sitting against the rocks nearby took him by surprise. Wyatt could see the person hadn't noticed him, but he could tell she was deep into whatever she had been writing. The diviner walked through the trees until he came upon her somewhat cautiously in hopes of not surprising her. Wyatt did not recognize the brunette as he got a closer look, but gave her a reassuring smile to not seem like a threat. "Hey, there," he said with a short wave. His gaze had fallen on the notes she had been writing and he could tell they were some type of spellwork, but for what, he did not know. Wyatt casually dismissed it as if he hadn't seen what she was doing and put his hands in his pockets with a small smile. "Name's Wyatt. Haven't seen you around before."
Malva was always shutting everything else that surrounds her from her head, whenever she's immersed in something. In this case, she was busy occupying her time trying to finish what was left to pick up from last night. Her muse always tend to come at the weirdest of times, she never had a time to actually question its credibility. Humming to herself, her right hand almost swiped the ink against the parchment on her spell journal when she heard a voice interrupting her own train of thoughts. She didn't bother turning her head around to face the stranger because he came into her peripheral view soon enough. Looking up to the male, she stopped her writing and gave him a tight lipped smile.
Her spell journal was still within her grasp and she had sensed the aura he emitted. A diviner. Perfect. Just the person she needed. Ish. "Hi, Wyatt. Well, that's either due to you not venturing deep enough in the city, which could mean you're new. Or it's because I don't go out much other than to lounge around at my place's backyard or garden. So there's that." She shrugged and placed her spell journal and quill on the ground next to her. She might have forgotten to introduce herself, as always. "I'm Malva." Right now, she wasn't sure if everyone was supposed to know each and every one of her family member or not. But better to keep it safe and hidden until she actually needed to use that card to divulge into her family 'matters'. "So Wyatt, what are you doing about here? Searching for peace and serenity? Tranquility?" It sounded far than absurd in her vocabulary and dictionary, but then again Malva was a natural born pessimist who sometimes sees the good and positive in others. Occasionally.
Wyatt smirked at her question and shrugged a bit in response. "I suppose you could say that," he responded. He had a bit of a busy lifestyle when it came to all the traveling and work he did whether it was the photography business or the flying people around the world. Jet lag was just something he learned to live with, but it still kicked him in the ass sometimes. The one thing that always did center him was magic. The time he spent in the woods of his own backyard was what calmed him after the craziness of his work. However, it was becoming more and more apparent to him that his frustrations with learning dark diviner magic was having the exact opposite affect on his mood. It was almost an obsession. An itch that he couldn't scratch.
The diviner went with his gut and assumed the young woman was some sort of supernatural, he just couldn't put his finger on what. She was someone he'd never seen among the coven, but it was clear she was aware of magic from the quick glance at the journal he saw her scribbling in. "Was doing a bit of practicing out here...Malva." His green hues moved about the trees and back over to the river. "And I've been to every corner of this city or so I like to think. These woods included, so not so new." He leaned against the rock next to her and let his eyes drift to the small book in her hands that she had been writing in. "Do you come out here a lot for your own tranquility?" he joked lightly. His eyes squinted and he let his gaze look her up and down as if he was sizing her up. "I'm going to say.. you're an author who writes those steamy novels women seem to drool over and bash men in real life after reading." He lifted his feet up as if there was possibly something under them. "Either that or you're a serial killer who comes out here to bury her victims and then writes down a map of all the body sites. How am I doing?" Despite Wyatt's joking, he was wondering if perhaps she had a sense that he was a supernatural and would maybe become more open about her own lineage. Sometimes it was just easier for some supernaturals to tell that they were in the presence of someone else who was also not human.
Malva had always been comfortable with magic. So when she sensed the aura shrouding over the male, she felt a small sense of relief. It was refreshing. Much like a breath for new and fresh air. Even before she was resurrected and thrown back to the living world, and embraced into becoming who she was today; the Aspect of Magic. She was a Fae, or what they would call light diviner, these days. Magic was never a foreign concept towards her. But the fact that she was too used and too close to it, she grew worried on the side effects that was slowly beginning to show as of lately.
"An author? Well, I guess I could pass off as one. But for a steamy novel? No, sir. I don't think I'm equipped for such genre." She chuckled, bringing about the slight antiquity in her own tone. Despite being around the modern days since the beginning, the brunette was not used to it. She was a fast learner and managed to adapt to her situations, most of the time. But the way she talks, still needed improvement. Old habits die hard, except this one is not exactly a bad one. "If I was one, I'm more to thriller or horror. Even fantasy, where all the witches and supernatural creatures roam around the ends of the earth. It's quite fascinating and interesting to see a different adaptation to it. Most of the current ones are still half way correct."
"But then again, no one is perfect." Shrugging casually, she placed her hands on her knees, hugging them briefly before training her bright blue hues on his green ones. "The second option is also doable. I don't think I look much like your typical serial killer, but what was it that you people call, ah, don't judge a book by its cover." A small smile tugged on her lips as a look of bemusement masked her features. "But unfortunately, I don't bury dead bodies. Too much work. And my younger sister would kill me if I get any dirt on my clothes." With that being said, Cora would actually attempt to try and kill the eldest sister that was her. She knew better than to test the fires within her siblings. It's the part where you never want to kindle anywhere near. Their temper would suit any volcano, truthfully. It was only a miracle that they stayed so collected and calm all these years. Mostly. But they haven't destroyed anything, so that was a rarity.
However, the Russian noticed him glancing and taking a look briefly on her spell journal that now lies on the grass. "It's my spell journal." She exclaimed, knowing what he might have in mind to ask. "So I'm like you. A witch. Your local city witch. Well- not exactly local.. Since I'm not originally from here." As she was filled with the exactly element he channelled from, it was easy to see it through, especially given her sight; a sight they were given to watch over the status of their elements in the world visibly. She wasn't dark. She wasn't light. She was both. Malva was the epitome of Magic itself coming into the form of a person; a representative. Much like how she is also a servant to it. Magic was an ancient force, derived directly from the nature itself. "But you were close. I'm an author for my spell journal. And I also wrote down a chronological map in correlation of every occurrences."
Wyatt's eyes studied the woman's face as she responded in her more than curious explanation. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as she thoroughly explained to him all the problems with his playful theory on who she was. Malva seemed much older than she appeared with the way she chose her words. That of course was taboo in the world of the supernatural. No one could ever really be sure of anyone's age when some of the beings that walked the world were immortal.
When she finally mentioned the small book she was holding was in fact a spell journal, Wyatt couldn't help but become more intrigued. It was only a few more words and Malva was admitting to also being a witch. Furrowing his brow, the diviner's mouth parted slightly to try and come up with one of the many questions he had, but nothing came out. Wyatt knew every one of the diviners in the coven and to meet a stray was just unheard of.
Bending over, he picked up the journal from the ground and looked to her. "May I?" he asked before opening the first few pages to look inside. There were symbols, ingredients, and spells that came naturally to him as breathing as his eyes scanned the full pages of ink, but then there were others that could have been a completely foreign language to him. This was advanced and powerful magic that he had never really seen before except in the research he had done on the covens of old who were slaughtered by the wars in which they fought amongst themselves. Light against dark. Fae against necromancers. It was the smear on their kind's legacy.
Wyatt's hues came back to hers which were no doubt filled with a slight wonder. Was she from that age so long ago? After a moment, he realized he was staring at her and dropped his gaze with a smirk. He handed the book to her and put his hands back in his pocket, clearing his throat. "That's an incredible collection of magic you have there. Forgive me for being so forward, but you said you weren't originally from around here. Where are you from? I have never seen such an intricate treasure of knowledge; even among the coven spellbooks here in Evermore."
Admitting to being a witch was not weird for her, since it wasn't exactly the first time she's done so, but again, it has been a while. Whilst she doesn't like being called a witch, it's only fine if it comes out from her. Double standards, really. Technically, they were basically witches and warlocks, so there was nothing foreign about the word in any of their contexts. Malva saw the look masking the diviner before her, as he threaded through the journal with his green hues. "You can take a look, it's okay. It's harmless-ish. Unless you stumble across a quite specific harmful spell and accidentally conjure them." She mused lightly, the ranks of mischief twinkling in her blue hues as her eyes traveled from both sides to see the reaction coming from him.
Now, Malva was not at all stingy. She loves spreading knowledge. Hence, the grimoires and all those witch cook books across the world landing in every once in a while. She made it her duty to spread them as she documented it. However, there were some arts in magic itself that she would prefer keeping to herself, mostly due to the fact that she didn't want any sudden and inconspicuous events coming around any time soon. The pessimistic Aspect of Magic has enough on her platter and didn't need more for the time being. That was precisely the reason why she made sure to eradicate and keep the books about connective magic and whatnot. Dark arts would befit some dark diviners and sometimes, a little bit too much on each scale that weighs the other is not something she would be looking forward to. After all, every thing has to have balance.
When he handed the book back to her, she took it in her grasps and placed it aside, on the boulder. "From your looks, yes, I'm a bit older than I look. Kind of. That's why it's usually a mixture of Old Latin in there. Until I had to transcribe it. Our ancestry travels back so deep in the root when the civil wars took our own kind's lives." Obviously she wasn't going to reveal so early that she was so much older than any of diviners existing this day. Witches aren't immortal, after all. Unless they were using somesort of an immortality charm to any jewelry they were adorning themselves with. A slight error because the Ailwards made sure such spell would be erased from the books since it gave one too much power. And one was never supposed to have too much.
"No worries. Yes, I'm not from here. I recently moved here permanently close to about 2 years ago, if my memory serves me right. I hail from the Eastlands, Russia. My coven was a part of the local ones there, until we eventually moved to America when I was young. They like to practice traditional and ancestral magic." If he was smart to catch on her words, he would remember that almost no coven today practiced such form of magic for it being quite old and ancient, not to mention quite difficult to master since all the tether comes back to their legacy. She was sure the last time she saw a coven still maintaining their ancestry roots by practicing the two forms were back in the late 16th century. And that was over close to five hundred years ago.
Maybe she would admit, letting them string up on the cheese placed before them was fun. Sometimes, you needed entertainment and other than Gabriel, who was also over 1000 years old and was apart of their guard, she hasn't had the chance to train another apprentice to carry on the old teachings. So what's the harm of a little test to go by around?