Young Writers Society

Impeccable vibes!!!

But like... will there be a mobile library??

@Snoink I feel like there needs to be

In which we get a tiny peek into Margot's experience with rotting magic...

The smell of rotten magic is something she never gets used to.

For hours one night, she spends her time on bended knees, retching from the foulness that seemed to sneak beneath her skin and cling to her insides like a deadening, heavy sludge. After, while scrubbing, she watches the grey tinge leach from her skin as if a ghost that had possesed her was recceeding from her viens and disapating into the air. It leaves her empty. Her soul rattles in her chest and she takes a breath that catches before she can fully exhale and forces a gasp from between her pale lips.

Shaking, fumbling, she uses her numb fingers to scrabble on the tile beneath the toilet, searching for the ring she dropped from her middle finger when she dropped to the ground beside the tub. The ring is colder than she is, almost seering the tip of her already frozen fingers. Even still, she slips it back on, noticing for the second time how heavy and large the band it. She has to hold it in place to keep it on her finger, but even still she feels the pulsing of power in an iron clad grip around her finger bone. She falls back, leaning against the cold procelain of the sink base, her head craddled in her other hand. What the fuck is she going to do now?

~**~

It had shaken her - the first time she experienced the suffocating prescence of old, wasting sorcery. Chipping away at her brain until it was flakes, making it impossible for her to remember where she was or why she had come there. It had taken days for her to move past the pain and paranonia that haunted her thoughts in dreary, grey tinged hallunciantions. The next time, she tried to prepare herself better. Arm herself with protective charms and artifacts. She glistened like a beetle as she moved through the passageways, amulets dangling from her wrists, ears, neck, waist. Her armor against a demon she felt she didn't have any choice but to face.

That was when she learned what a poison dead magic is to living, breathing, well magic. When she felt the electric sparks zinging up her arms in angry, hot, welts that left her paralyzed deep into her bones. The charms clattered to the floor and skittered across the dark, smoky grey stone floor.