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Instar DivinerPermalink Reply by ✓ Wyatt Brookes on May 18, 2023 at 2:00

Taking a few steps back, Wyatt flexed his fingers and worked out the now dull pain in his knuckles after punching Fred with a great deal of satisfaction. Seeing that he was the cause of Fred's split lip was the cherry on top. He took another sip from his bottle and waited while Penelope coaxed the truth potion down their prisoner's throat. Oddly enough, he didn't put up much of a fight which made Wyatt's brow lift. Normally, most people wouldn't be too thrilled with the idea of being forced to drink something unknown while being held against their will, but it was almost like Fred knew what it was in that vial and wanted to spill his guts when it came to what it was he and his co-conspirators were up to. He was so fucking smug that he probably would've folded in telling them whatever they asked eventually just because he was so proud of it all.

Wyatt waited as the first question was asked. It was one he was dying to know as well, but the answer that came their way made his jaw relax, his lips parting slightly from the surprise. His eyes cut over to Pen momentarily at this revelation before looking back to Fred who continued on. His words made Wyatt's fist clench again as anger blurred his vision. Normally, he was very good at covering his tracks when it came to finding any magical artifacts and bringing them back safely to the Archives. How would Fred even know Wyatt would be the one to watch when it came to finding Penelope?

Perhaps a client? His mind drifted away for moment while he tried to remember all the people who had hired him recently to find something or maybe whomever he might've procured an item from. Maybe it somehow tracked back to him and they knew the Archives would be a place diviners from the area would store their things which would in turn lead to possibly finding Pen. He internally cursed at himself. 

Though he'd been concentrating more on backtracking where he might've been found out, Wyatt's mind whipped back into full focus with Fred's last statement. The clenched fist had found its target again as he crossed the space, connecting with the human's nose, and knocking him sideways once more. Sure, there were plenty of magical offensive strikes he could use against Fred, but there was nothing like hitting someone with a closed fist who truly deserved it. "Keep it up, smart ass, and it won't be just my right hook marking up that pretty face of yours." 

Wyatt glanced over to Penelope who seemed at a loss just then. They wanted the truth and now they were getting it, however difficult it might be to hear. "So you were hired. By whom?" The diviner's eyes began to glow a dim and threatening bright blue as indication that all the colorful commentary wasn't necessary, lest Fred wanted to graduate from getting punched to creative magical attacks. 

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Instar DivinerPermalink Reply by ✓ Penelope Winston on February 12, 2024 at 0:08

✧ Artifact Rescue✧

Penelope wasn’t one for violence and yet there was a small twinge of satisfaction as Wyatt’s fist connected with the man that used her as a puppet, who had used her cravement of another to catch her so full off guard. If she couldn’t even go on a date with a stranger she was better off locking herself away in The Archives. Questions swirled in her mind, she felt some relief that she was a prude it meant some part of her under his control had her guard up. Enough to not break the chastity she had been under for some time now. Pen felt the cock of her smirk as Wyatt crossed the room to knock that smirk off of Fred’s face.

Fred spit out the blood that had pooled in his mouth as he gave a weak laugh at Wyatt. “Can’t help it, I was born to be a smartass.” Licking the split lip that Wyatt had caused he felt his eyes rest upon Penelope once more before looking back to Wyatt. “Abraxas Bradford.” He said the name then looked back at Penelope to watch her reaction to the name.

Penelope went rigid, she felt her blood run cold. Her face became unreadable as her mind searched. There was no way, his death had been somewhat of a celebration among the City. Her gaze went to Wyatt, she had known the affection he had for the female Bradford twin. Did he know the cruelty that Abraxas had? She knew she had drunkenly one night told him all about her coven, and how Bradford took control of her mothers coven so easily. How the scar on her back came from the dagger he tried to place in Alfred’s heart.

Yet he couldn’t be lying as the truth potion was still in effect. She let out a breath she had been holding before moving closer to the man, her finger touched his temple. “I think you are mistaken. Abraxas was decimated by his own children.” She said, “so whomever is running around using his name to strike fear into the hearts of those who once groveled to his will. Is just a copycat, a fake, and I will make sure to put his head on a pike next to yours.” She growled out as a small shock went from her finger into his brain. She watched as the pain crossed his face as she let the old darkness seep into her veins.

Fred's body stiffened in pain as he groaned out before whimpering out. “When he finds you, he will finish placing that blade through your heart.” He felt his eyes roll back as the pain of the electric shock caused him to fall backwards in the cell. Penelope took hold of Wyatt's arm and pulled him out before putting the box back around Fred. “He…can’t be alive.” Penelope said as she moved back towards the main hall away from the cells. “I could plant a tracker in Fred and let him lead us to the imposter.” She muttered as she felt that ball of magic twisting in her stomach wanting to lash out.

Her body trembling at the thought of Abraxas alive and roaming the streets. She hadn’t felt such pure anger in a long time. So much so she had an aura of red magic waving off her. The Hall seemed to be locking away the dangerous items the more Penelope moved. As if sensing that she was going to lose her hold on her magic. The pain of that night, of watching her mother die then her father even though she tried to save him. All because she was a little lonely. How stupid could she be?

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Instar DivinerPermalink Reply by ✓ Wyatt Brookes on March 2, 2024 at 14:58

Abraxos Bradford.

The color instantly drained from his face. Wyatt stilled completely and every bit of anger and annoyance at the asshole in front of him vanished as his mind went wholly blank. His gaze lowered to the floor, darting back and forth while he reeled himself back in and tried to work out what was just said. That bastard had destroyed more lives than he could count including two of the most important people in his world and killing another that was like a father to him. He was supposed to be dead. Unless... maybe a powerful artifact of resurrection or some deal with a dark diviner to bring him ba- No. No, Abraxos Bradford was dead and Wyatt wasn't going to put any weight into any other theory. Yet.

His widened eyes swung to Penelope the moment hers turned to find him. He could see she had been just as thrown as he was from the admission. Listening to her, he stayed firmly in place as she waved off what Fred had told them. She too apparently didn't believe what he was saying or at least didn't show that she did in front of their new guest. It was the hand to play, given the fact that the serum was still working its way through Fred's system. There must've been someone else out there using Abraxos's name, knowing it would strike horror into Penelope, given that he'd murdered her parents.   

Wyatt felt a swell of satisfaction watching Penny send a shock of searing pain through Fred. He could see the asshole's teeth chatter, his muscles seizing. Still, Fred pushed through the pain for a moment to send a death warning her way at the hands of this imposter. It was all the energy he could muster up as drool leaked from the corner of his mouth and he toppled over backward finally into unconsciousness. Wyatt hadn't realized he was clenching his fists tightly at his sides with the need to hit Fred again or hit anything in the general vicinity of where he stood until Penelope took his arm to usher them out of the cell.

He blinked to let the boiling anger vanish as they came into the hall and moved away from earshot. Wyatt let his head fall backward and pushed out a breath through his nose, his eyes closed to collect himself. He immediately shook his head in agreement of Penelope's first words to him. "He's not." The words were firm and final. They had to be in order for him to truly believe it and hopefully her as well. The alternative... "No, no, a tracker will be too obvious. I'm sure whoever he's working for would look."

Wyatt let his focus finally fall on her. He could see her shaking. The pulsing of magic around her danced chaotically. The Archives answered in turn, his head swiveling to watch as it began to go on the defensive, the audible sounds of locks clicking and turning in the distance while it worked to protect itself from its own keeper. 

"Hey," Wyatt calmly began, reaching out to squeeze her upper arms and then cupping her face with both hands. "Look at me." His hues searched hers, though the red tint that circled her normally soft green eyes seemed to be swirling. "We got this. Don't let whoever this is throw you off your game. Whatever they were up to, they failed in their first move, right?" He nodded over his shoulder toward the cells. "That asshat didn't get whatever it was he was sent after and we're a step closer to finding who has his leash." His thumbs stroked her cheeks softly. "We just have to keep our heads and figure out our next move, okay?" 

His face lifted slightly to glance absentmindedly towards the rest of the massive library behind them, his thoughts spinning. "Maybe we can find something else that could help," he commented quietly to himself mostly. An expansive collection of magical artifacts. If this person was after something specific here or Penelope or both, they could find something within these walls in retaliation too. Wyatt's attention moved back to her, his hands falling down to rest on her shoulders. "We good?"

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Instar DivinerPermalink Reply by ✓ Penelope Winston on April 28, 2024 at 12:37

✧ Artifact Rescue✧

The synchronicity between them was not uncommon, but Abraxas was dead. The weight of his demise, coupled with what the Bradford children had done and Isaiah's passing, cast a palpable fear that could shake the souls of many. She suspected Abraxas's associates would attempt to wield his name to feign power, yet for a fleeting moment, she entertained the thought of his survival, shocking her to her core. His visage still haunted her nightmares sporadically to this day.

The urgency of the situation was evident. "Yes, you're right. We need to be strategic in our approach, containing the situation and preventing it from escalating," Penelope acknowledged, feeling the tug of self-control teetering on the brink, threatening to plunge her into the chaos she could unleash. The Archives, a sentient being, safeguarded some of the most perilous artifacts, capable of unleashing havoc surpassing even a nuclear war. She struggled to recall a time when she had felt so shaken.

A surge of magic roared in her ears; she flinched at the squeeze on her arm, redirecting her focus to the warmth of his hands cupping her face. Drawing a deep breath, her instinctive response to his presence calmed her. Wyatt possessed an uncanny ability to provide solace in her darkest moments. The torrent of magic that had enveloped her gradually receded. "Yes, you're right," she murmured softly, the crimson hue fading from her eyes as his thumbs traced soothing patterns along her cheeks. Her hands found purchase on his wrist, and after several steadying breaths, she nodded. "Yes, of course. At least I'm not alone," she reassured him in her melodic tone. "Yes, we're good."

In response, The Archives began to reopen itself to its keeper and honorary guard. "The true challenge lies in discerning what might prove beneficial. We remain uncertain whether Imposobrax is of nephilim descent or something more sinister," she lamented, her sigh trailing off. As if in response to her musings, a pile of leather-bound books materialized on the study table, causing Penelope to startle at the sudden noise reverberating through the halls. "Couldn't you have alerted me to the attempted break-in?!" she exclaimed, directing her frustration toward The Archives. At times, it felt akin to dealing with a wayward sibling, dispensing knowledge only in moments of desperation.

Approaching the table, she gingerly picked up one of the leather-bound tomes, flipping it open to a random page. Her eyes widened in astonishment as she scanned the elegant cursive script. Returning to the beginning, she stumbled upon a name emblazoned in bold, sharing the revelation with Wyatt. "I believed Abraxas to be a friend, yet I've come to realize he is a demon masquerading as an angel. However, what he doesn't know is that I am not the end of my bloodline. I must buy time, keep my enemy close. So M is safe," she read aloud, her voice tinged with guilt as she acknowledged the reference to Monica, her deceased coven name.

"Did you know Alfred and Abraxas were acquainted? Not merely acquainted, but intimately so?" she inquired, sinking wearily into one of the chairs. The events of the day had left her feeling drained. Delving into her father's journals, unraveling his innermost thoughts, felt akin to trespassing, yet she pressed on, turning to the next page. There had to be a reason The Archives had led them to these revelations.

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Instar DivinerPermalink Reply by ✓ Wyatt Brookes on Thursday

Wyatt nodded as she confirmed she was alright, the tenseness that had seized her body slipping away slightly. The sound of the Archives releasing some of its lockdown echoed around them and his eyes lifted to glance around at the noises. He gave her a smirk and dropped his hands from her shoulders, but startled at the slamming of the books the Archives had deposited on the table. "Would be nice if it did that for me more often when I'm researching," he murmured and followed Penelope to see what they were being pushed to.  

Folding another slice of pizza, his eyes scanned the spines of the books. Journals. He recognized some of them belonging to Winston and smiled at the memory of the old man. For years it seemed he was training Wyatt to take over the Archives. He knew the ins and outs of this place. Or so he thought. Winston had quickly reminded him that even he didn't know everything. None of the keepers did and never would. The Archives were a marvel and an enigma.

So when it was revealed there was an heir in his family, Wyatt had felt a bit disappointed the title of keeper wouldn't be coming to him. He was a damn apprentice, after all. However, all of those feelings had quickly vanished when Pen came into the picture. Wyatt would've done anything Winston asked, even if that meant training her when he was gone. Be her friend, guide, and protector. It was like he knew his death was coming for years and wanted Wyatt to be the one to help his daughter take the mantle because he wouldn't be around to do it himself. The reason for teaching him everything. The one thing he could give her when he had been absent her whole life.

Wyatt practically shoved the whole slice into his mouth as he looked over her shoulder to see what she was reading. His hues quickly scanned the words, brow scrunching in confusion. He chewed and swallowed more than he should've in his rush to answer, clearing his throat and wishing for his beer again. "No, no he never mentioned him," he replied to Penelope, reading more of the entry on the pages. "There were so many people coming and going around here..." The words trailed off. The idea of Abraxos Bradford wandering these halls with all the powerful knowledge and items within its walls was not comforting.

He watched her move to the chair as his mind worked out what Winston had meant. "'End of my bloodline,'" he repeated the written words. "You think Abraxos was hoping to take the Archives once he passed? The reason to kill him?" What a bastard. He chewed the crust and then folded his arms over his chest. "It's a damn good motive. He must've been pissed when he found out you existed. Perhaps he told someone about it or someone found out from something he left behind after his death. Like we are now with Winston's journals."

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