[ti]6[/ti][ ☾✧` ] t r i a l s .

                                                                 1692; salem, massachusetts                                                                     

I HEARD A                                             S C R E A M                          in the                          WOODS  S  O  M  E  W  H  E  R  E     i. hepzibah melody tumbledown         ii. 24  iii. candle maker/seamstress         iv. kaos ; sparrow v. eris vi. earth

╔══════════════════╗ Hepzibah is a muggleborn witch native to Salem. Her mother was the first to realize the strange powers of her daughter and panicked. She was sure Hepzibah knew to keep them controlled and well-hidden for fear of what her violent daughter may do. Since then, Hepzibah obeyed, keeping sure not to get close to any one person. She blends in and is well known in her town as a skilled seamstress and devout Christian. When she was a teenager, a group of settlers wandered into her quiet town. This was not unusual, but the young girl happened to stumble upon an interesting conversation. Most would have thought it jibberish, but she knew the magic they spoke of was very real. Still, she kept quiet. With no education or proper tools, her magic is very raw and primitive. ╚══════════════════╝

A R I S T A S I they knew something was wrong with her when she was born. cold and distant, but terribly curious of her world, aristasi is a mystery to most. she walks the earth a stranger, cloaked in odd clothing that draws attention of every muggle she passes. she cares not for their useless qualms, but aristasi sees her gifts of witchcraft as a way to kill the horrid boredom that plagues her. she could have been on the seat of the ministry of magic - but that would require far too much from her. she has no compassion for much of anything, aside from concocting potions with no relent. she works tirelessly, hoarding every kind of spell and curse there is. some wizards question her sanity. aristasi doesn't blame them. void, blank - she feels nothing. it takes more than what is necessary for most to drive this strange woman to have an emotional reaction. even then, she is thoroughly confused by them. she has little value for life and cares not to sustain it - she merely does it for the muggles in order to receive coin, so she can trade it in for what she needs to make her brews. once upon a time a young man tried to woo her. he was a ravenclaw, a very intelligent young fellow - it was only when a girl - a feisty hufflepuff by the name of Elizabeth - gave her a peck on the lips, did she realize that she was utterly and exceptionally gay.

• ┌──────────────────────┐ coyote patronus parents: lilah & dante  pet cat, brown tabby  barn own passed away  not long ago due to a cruel visitor  quiet, null, coarse, uses her skills in rational and calculated manner, without much heartfelt feeling. └──────────────────────┘ •

┌────────────────────────────────────────┐ aristasi arabel littlemoon female / homosex. 24 years old dark hair, hazel eyes graduated hogwarts student ex-slytherin middle of her class was expelled once for putting a mouse in the headmaster's soup - he ate it without even looking. no known siblings or kin, she lives by her lonesome in a cabin deep in the woods. works for the town as a nurse and is called to houses for emergencies/births/etc now an herbalist/nurse  └────────────────────────────────────────┘

reserved

❝ Hepzibah Melody Tumbledown

Oh what a calm, dreary day. Though the sun shone in the milky sky, the air was cold. There was no wind and silence stretched through the small, empty workshop. Sunrise had not been long ago, but the young woman had been up even longer. Dim light streamed through the dingy windows. Dust motes danced within the beams. The only sound was the rustle of ashy pink colored skirts and the soft click and creak of heeled boots on the wooden floors.     Hepzibah swept through the room with grace, dancing around each loose nail and rotten board as if she knew it better than her own name. With mere waves of her hands this way and that, dust flew from the shelves and displays only to settle on the floor. She was in constant moving with the same practiced steps she repeated each day. For a moment, she paused and took a step back, narrowing her blue eyes at a pin cushion that was slightly out of place. With a flick of her fingers, it rotated and she was back to her routine once more.     Once she was satisfied, she stopped beside the desk within the store, fists on her hips as she examined her work. She stood still as the intricate yet gloomily dressed wooden mannequins that were scattered around her. Suddenly, a fluttering and muffled chirp caught her attention. She looked up at one of the small, high windows to see the silhouette of a sparrow bouncing along the edge. The latch unhooked and it burrowed it's way under the popped window, flitting down to perch on a hat adorning a wooden figure.     "It's nearly opening time, Kaos," she murmured. She pulled a pin from her perfectly twisted tawny hair and walked around the desk to the shelf behind it. With a swift motion, she stuck a small, plush figurine in the eye with the needle. A smirk played on her lips. "Good news, though," she chirped, walking back around to pat the bird on the head. "I have a feeling Missus Gates will be too busy with an unfortunate eye injury to make her fifth waist-measuring appointment this month."     A tweet escaped the sparrow.     "Oh. It is seven, isn't it?"

There was no possible way she could make it in this town.
London, such a different animal than the Americas. Her comrades had promised her sunshine and endless rays of warmth - beaches and uncanny treats purchased from men struggling to support the hungry mouths back in their homes. Yes, she'd been promised many things, some far more inviting than others, but upon her arrival to this haphazard wasteland, Aristasi found it far less than impressive. Certainly, the blithering village in which she'd originated was no brighter than this town, but something wreaked of distaste, no matter where she happened to look. It was rather inconvenient, really, that there was no one other than she not of Muggle blood. She'd scoured the town for secret doorways - even used her wand to help her search! Nothing. She supposed she could return to London, but what would there be when she plucked her way back aside from the obvious failure that her peers would utilize without so much as an apology.
Ari, head down and lips turned into a scowl, marched down the dreary roads. Not many sleepy eyes had yet to grace the day, as it was hardly seven in the morning, but she proffered this time. There was no one to bother her. Her dark eyes swept across the cluster of shops that she'd made certain to avoid for as long as possible. She tended to her own gardens, having nothing to do with the meat slaughtered by the townsmen. She rather disliked the taste anyway. Her own fruits and vegetables grew in her garden - along with the help of her wand, of course. She often felt sad for the Muggles. They'd never know how magic could twist a simple orange into something purely phantasmal.
She drew to a slow stop, her dress flipping around her ankles as she did a small pivot, trying to decide which shop might hold the item she was in desperate need of. It was probably a definite no -- what Muggle would keep slugs on hand? -- but nonetheless, Ari had no choice but to try. She hadn't seen a single slug marching along anywhere and there was no hope of using her magic where a Muggle might see it.
Yes, London was sounding very nice.
A deep sigh rattled her chest as she centered on a rather lonely looking shop in the corner, her eyes narrowed as she approached. It was dim inside, still looking rather unoccupied. She supposed if the door was locked, she'd just turn around and go back home. Nonetheless, she guessed it was worth a try. Reaching the tiny shop, she clasped the handle and yanked it open with a bit more force than necessary, flinching when a set of bells announced her entry. She furrowed her brows. She hated that sound. It reminded her too much of Headless Nick.
She swept her gaze across the room until they skewered a young woman, her head craning back. How odd. A sparrow was hopping along a perch. Who knew Muggles kept birds as pets. Snorting, she wondered to herself what she might've thought of her late owl - the memory melted into a frown.
"Hello," She greeted emotionless. "Are you open?"

❝ Hepzibah Melody Tumbledown

Hepzibah's murmurs to her bird were halted as the bells on the door jingled. She paused and folded her bony hands in front of her, eyes narrowing as she examined the woman that entered. In a town where the young woman knew everyone, she was a stranger, and there was something undoubtedly off about her. "Yes," she responded flatly, then pretended to shoo the sparrow off the mannequin and fiddle with different pieces of its outfit. "Do you have an appointment?" She asked in a cold tone, glancing over at the black-haired woman. An air of distrust shrouded her, though she couldn't be exactly sure from where it stemmed. Either way, she kept on her toes, hyper-aware of the woman's every movement.

Appointment?
Her eyes moved around the shop swiftly, catching every small detail of the place. She'd stumbled into the wrong place it seemed. She needn't a seamstress too ignorant of any other skill to stitch her spells together for her. She cast her gaze back to the woman without moving her head. Even so, standing here like a fool would not be a suitable exit for her. She craned her head, curious, when the sparrow fluttered away, seemingly none too bothered by the hand that shooed it.
Odd.
"Ah," she said, drawing a smooth breath. "No, I do not." She folded her arms over herself. "Though I don't see you waltzing around - or none too busy."

❝ Hepzibah Melody Tumbledown

Hepzibah pressed her lips together into a fine line, eyes narrowed. She brushed her hands upon her apron and wandered towards the shelves with wide strides, heels tapping against the hollow wood. "As it turns out, I have an opening," she stated sharply, shuffling some candles into a more aesthetically pleasing setup inside their wooden square of a cubby.     She turned and folded her skeletal fingers before her, tipping her head with mock innocence at the stranger. "I don't think I've seen you around," she cooed. "We don't get very many new people in town." She looked the brunette up and down before turning and striding once more towards the mannequin.     "What is it that you need? Something tailored? Custom? More candles to brighten your home during these overcast days, perhaps?" She fiddled with pins as she waited for an answer, feeling the power the tiny silver needles carried for only her buzz through the cold metal. She pulled them out only to replace them somewhere else, perfecting the seams along the half-finished display.

A wry twist of her lip reached her lightless eyes - for a moment they actually seemed, simply put, afire. She clasped her hands together with a deep draw of breath. She needed supplies for her spellwork - not a woman to make her dresses. She wondered if she’d ever tailored for a wizard or witch. Had she questioned the need for their robes? Did Hogwarfs orderly exclusively from Diagon Alley?
So many questions.
“Actually,” She began, working on a fib to escape. “I was hoping you had, ah, herbs. Apparently I have wandered in the wrong place.” She slapped one hand to her side in a manner of shrugging.
Turning, the witch eyeballed the works on display. “Tell me - is this your establishment? Do you work for a man?” She looked over her shoulder with an arch of thin brows. “Someone has a steady hand, whoever they might be.”