feral musician, looking.

I had to choose between two covens. The witches of the world were gathering forces, to bring the magic back into the world.

The first was as a different world entirely. The colors more muted, the eyes I look into are older, deeper. They floated around, solemnly chatting with hyper-intelligent cats in an old abandoned house in the woods. There were cobwebs. There were rules. These followed an old code, written in stone at the beginning of time.

I am reverently terrified.

The second coven was located (oddly enough) in a garage off of the alley of my own neighborhood block. It was cheap. There were candles, and a pentagram painted on the floor. Some thrown around paperback copies of Necromancer &c, oily  rags and crusty beer cans. Flies. Hipsters. These witches sucked. I knew that I had diplomatic immunity until my decision, and a neutral guide to protect me, but these scared me in a much  different way than the first. They wanted me too much. Their methods were so careless and dangerous, like a fair-weather-wanton lovespell; cast upon and then cast away.

Then they tried to cut my hair. The leader came at me with a pair of shears.

“You have to let us, if you want to join”

“but I don’t think I…”

snip.

fuck.

and then i woke up.