Thread: 1920's Voodoo.(HaloHeroWolf118 & Leviathan)

A dark brow arched at the question, followed by a faintly humouring smile as she entered the room. Charlie was well aware of her brothers subtle attempt to change the subject and curb her temper but she allowed for the decrease in tension nevertheless. Sighing and relaxing her shoulders, she released the scolding stiffness that had overtaken her features. In truth, it was a rather welcome change in topic the mysterious book and MacFarlanes bizarre behaviour had been rattling in her mind until the sight of Erics condition had momentary paused all other concerns. With her passion for foreign oddities and witchcraft-like eccentricities, the events of tonight would doubtlessly keep her up until dawn. She knew her brother didnt quite share her faith in the supernatural but a second opinion would be welcome all the same. Discussing the existence of demonic entities with a Fenian gentleman, surprisingly enough. Not nearly as exciting as fighting and gambling, I suppose, she offered him a sharp side-glace at that, but it was a novel evening nonetheless. Charlie took a seat beside him on the sofa, hitching her skirt up and to the side so that she could face him. While fetching her medical supplies she had pulled her hair up into a messy bun, the wild waves kept at bay from her eyes by several bobby pins to allow her a clear view. In her hands she held a small woven basket overflowing with various bottles and dried herbs. Voodoo may have been considered supernatural hooey by most but anyone who was familiar with the practice also knew that the medicinal knowledge involved was certainly more than effective in cases of healing. It was an art that Charlie had learned very wellin part due to her and her brothers more wilful habits. Soaking a large cotton ball in a round vial smelling strongly of peppermint, alcohol, and rosemary, she leaned forward so that her chest was parallel to his shoulder and placed her weight on her knees so that she sat just a little higher than him. Her left hand ran upwards through Erics hair, pushing the stray locks of ebony away from his forehead to allow a better view of the injury. Charlie kept her touch gentle and soothing, trying not to irritate the area further. Dabbing the cool substance along the split flesh, she didnt bother to warn him about the slight sting that would followhe knew the process of disinfecting wounds as well as she did. Her own concoction certainly burned less than the usual haphazard use of vodka that most brawling men were used to, and the willow bark within helped a fair bit with numbing as well. Braden MacFarlaneone of our smugglerscalled me near twilight asking for an emergency meeting at the Black Goat speakeasy. At first I thought something had gone wrong with one of our shipments but it turned out that he had wanted to speak to me especially. Apparently Im known for my career in witchcraft as well as my business talents. Charlie chuckled breathily at that, pulling away from her brother and searching through the small basket once more. She began swabbing a thin, curved suture needle and surgical thread with the same disinfectant before resuming her position at his side. She took his hand in hers, placing it where her left had been near his hairline to keep the locks from falling forward while she worked. Dsol, cher . She mumbled the small apology out of habit, beginning to work on reconnecting the damaged skin and closing the wound. She continued to speak for the sake of distracting him, her words slower now that she was focused on keeping her touch as delicate and precise as possible. He was concerned about a coming of demons, to be specific. Or, at least what he believed were demons. Diabhail-Faolch was the term he used Irish for Devil-Hound or Demon-Wolf or something or other. He was utterly inconsolable, I couldnt tell whether he was trying to warn me or ask for my assistance or if he was simply in need of someone to talk to in all his desperation. He kept switching between English and Irish, but there was another word he kept using... Banron-Cailleach . A Witch-Queen, I believe? He referred to me as a cailleach a couple times, too. Im not certain whether I should have taken offence to that. It was the oddest thing... He walked out before I could really make any sense of it all, and he also managed to leave behind an equally mysterious grimoire of sorts. I tried to read through it but it was all in runicsome sort of Celtic variation. Honestly, I havent been bombarded with so much of the arcane since Nanan passed.