Post by Mordecai Finn on Oct 29, 2015 4:32:08 GMT -6
mordecai finn
samuel larsen
CREATED BY fish
MORDECAI FINN
HAG
34 years old
PERSONALITY
+ KINDHEARTED ; while his students may think otherwise, while his neighbors are wary of his presence, mordecai is a man who is guided by treating those around him as pleasantly as possible. he doesn't exactly live by the golden rule, exactly, but his heart is in the right place.
+ HONEST ; one will not find lies on mordecai's tongue. he realized long ago that there was no point in lying to people, as it will only get thrown back in his face; or worse, hurt somebody else. he avoids replying if he's cornered about something he doesn't want to admit.
+ EMOTIVE ; while he's jaded to a fault, he wears his expressions on his sleeve. if he doesn't like something, people will know it, and if he's very much interested, it'll be written across his face. he talks with his hands, he smiles with his eyes.
+ ADVENTUROUS ; born in the fog of the swamp, by decaying bogs that enveloped his home, there wasn't much to experience unless he went and found it himself. the love for nature, for dirt and mud, still fuels his beating heart. a chance for exploration, whether it be a forest or a decaying building, still stirs his sense of adventure.
+ CONTROLLED ; in the sense of his ~magic~ and abilities, mordecai uses it for rather lackluster things. he may levitate a book or grow some pretty begonias with a flick of his wrist, but he does not curse or paralyze his neighbors like hags are wont to do.
- HOPELESS ROMANTIC ; in no way, shape, or form does mordecai see himself living happily in a relationship, but he pines for that opportunity to live a happy, normal life like the ones he reads in his books. in a way, he wants a fairytale relationship, where he's the one looking to be saved. the biggest issue being, of course, that he doesn't have the energy or willpower to see it through. relationships fail and he let's them and then he cries about it.
- APATHETIC / LETHARGIC ; while mordecai's heart is in the right place, the man doesn't do much in terms of helping people past the bare necessities. perhaps it was the years of his mother, the years taking care of his grandmother, the years of students who wore him down past his breaking point. in any case, he'd prefer to sleep in the teacher's lounge in his off time than deal with anybody.
- ANXIOUS & GIVES UP EASILY ; doesn't deal well with sudden attention, doesn't like being around older folk, constantly needs a cigarette. if he loses control of a classroom, he sits his ass back down and plays solitaire, because that's their fault not his. though, students tend not to provoke the likes of him (thankfully).
- BLEEDING HEART ; sob stories, people who can't quite get on their feet, stray cats, when someone eats by themselves at lunch. little things tug at his heartstrings, to the point where it's a bit embarrassing at times.
- PUNNY ; coworkers hate this man, 5 simple jokes to ruin your career!
- BLOODTHIRSTY ; despite how much he fights it, there's an underlying need for flesh. worst, it can be his younger students that spark his hunger. however, he is completely clean from eating humans (aside from the occasional brown bag package, but that's his secret to keep). most supernaturals don't seem to affect him, which is perhaps the main reason he found himself in hollow falls.
- CRYPTIC ; not much can truly be said about mordecai and his origins, and he prefers it that way. to those who have a keen eye for the supernatural, his existence is obvious. however, what he does or who he is is a mystery and this leads to a lot of misconceptions (such as, parents wanting nothing to do with him, people assuming he eats children-- he doesn't!)
OTHER NOTABLE ASPECTS
• EMETOPHOBIC ; one time a child vomited in his classroom and he climbed out the window.
• HOARDS CATS ; he has at least twelve now, his grandmother doesn't seem to notice.
• DOODLES OFTEN ; but only eyes, hundreds of eyes. often unconscious of what he's doing, normally when he's preoccupied by something else.
• DOESN'T WEAR SHOES WHENEVER POSSIBLE ; he feels as though he is better on his feet without them.
• FEELS TEXTURES OFTEN, PREFERABLY ON HIS TONGUE ; he is aware is this a bizarre habit, but he likes the feeling, and he often does it in secret. it's also best to note that his tongue is exceptionally long and pointed, a bit like a lizard's. he can completely cover the tip of his nose with it.
textures he likes: frozen things like ice or popsicles, those fake rocks they put in planters, mints (especially the chalky kind)
textures he dislikes: puddings and gelatin, anything within that consistency, that wish they were ice cream but they're not, they're lies; broccoli and celery and most plant matter, honestly.
• SUPER BAD LUCK ; mordecai is a broken mirror, and almost anything bad that can happen to him, will happen to him. this sometimes may rub off on other people, where they will dislike him for no reason or will have to endear their own bad luck as long as they're near him. is it an actual curse? mordecai believes so.
HISTORY
Mordecai was born to a hag in a coven, which in itself had a gathered cult following. Whether they were charmed or simply swayed by promises, they were an unflinching commune even as their women and children disappeared, even as there was little to eat but the hags were never starved. They were tucked away in the Atchafalaya Basin, covered in wetlands and long, climbing trees that blanketed them from the view of common folk who might want to disrupt their so-called peace.
But Mordecai wasn't simply born to live a normal life, nor did he experience one. It wasn't unheard of for a hag to give birth to a boy, especially not to those who knew better. His father was a warlock, feeble and weak compared to that of the coven, but still possessing abilities they could not match. He presented a proposal, a plea. It was a deal to save his family at the sacrifice of his first child. Admittedly, hags often found themselves drawn to magical children. They tasted like humans, but possessed so much potential.
A hag ate for power, for youth, for immortality. So what would happen if they ate a child bearing a curse between its teeth?
In the 19th century, the Finn family built their estate in a thick English forest, tucked in the overgrowth of oak trees that shadowed the presence of a horned spirit they hadn't quite noticed. It was their hubris that blinded them from the danger, waving off hauntings as superstition and the loneliness of their "humble" home. Scratch marks began to surface on the doors, like an animal trying to get in. Trees grew closer, their branches forming antlers and they creaked against the windows and the chimney and the porch. Something wanted in, and something wanted them out.
As it was, no matter where the family went, they were plagued by these aberrations. Perhaps cursed by their greed, for having the audacity to not adhere to the spirit's warnings prior, they were no longer the same. Children were born with tails, with horns. Mothers died, sometimes for no explicable reason. The family's numbers began to dwindle, each branch haunted by what seemed to be nature itself. Worse yet, they often found herds of deer taking over their yards, and often grew pushy if the family tried to slip through. Some claim the spirit was a demon, while others claim it was a guardian of the forest. Others believed it was a horned hag, wishing for them to go away.
What was left of the Finn family fled to the Americas. Some found themselves in the southern United States, others went further south to Mexico. It was then, though there was no confirmation, that magic began to weave its way into Finn blood. Perhaps they were desperate to solve their own puzzles, or maybe it began to fester in their blood. Little was documented of the Finns as they grew away from each other.
But Abran Finn was desperate. He could not heal his family's wounds, he could not save them from the decades of suffering. He could conjure and charm all he wanted, but his future was as a bleak as his present and he was weak, so very weak. It was clear to him, although not the rest of his family, that it was the work of a hag that caused their terrible curse. And it would be a hag that would save them, whether he had to sacrifice himself or anyone else to achieve this goal.
Agatha was unsure the curse was a hag's doing (seemed more beast born, she told her sisters, but who was she to tell that to a man offering her a child). She would birth the child, her matron decided. With their combined effort, he would be born like a warlock and raised with his curse like a marinate to ripen his flesh. His peak would be at age ten, and he would empower Brunhilde more than just any child. This magic would be enough to keep her ageless and plump with darkened sorcery for centuries. After all, when would she ever find a chance to eat the first born of such a scenario again? In the next millennium?
Mordecai never knew he was a sacrificial lamb, at least not initially. He grew and learned to crawl the bogs and took an interest in what vast amount of books his mother and aunts gathered in their years. Agatha was the nicest, in his mind at least, as she let him read her special books that she normally locked away from the commune members. Namely, she let him read fairy tales and fantastical fiction. His favorite was Rapunzel, as he felt himself ache for her. He could run around, be free, while she was confined to a cell. His irony escaped him until he was much older, and it remained a lump in his throat not much unlike other childhood memories.
His days were filled with imagination. If he wasn't reading, he was making up stories and dancing through the swamps and through the mores. In his fantasies, he was a Lost Boy without a Peter Pan, and he would live forever like his family. He had hopes, however, that he would one day be swept from his bog and into the world where streets and buildings were commonplace. Witches baking pies with batwings alongside pound cakes, men to fawn over how interesting he was (like Belle, he loved Belle), with stray cats arching their backs and drinking milk from bowls on his front porch. It was this that woke him up each day, and he would wander back into the ramshackle village before the fog settled.
It's a little known fact that hags were one of the many causes of sleep paralysis, though theirs was a particular kind of paralysis. Like tiny imps sitting on one's chest, but instead there cooed a woman who wished to harm you more than she wished to scare you. This was something Mordecai had witnessed before, as Agatha and her sisters plundered the huts of their followers'. Looking for betrayals or things they wouldn't mind taking, but normally to take a child or a wife when they were running low on meat. They would nearly drown the sleeper in a black potion that trickled down their cheeks. It paralyzed them, but they normally woke up. They'd watch, in horror, but they would never talk about it. They'd go about their day as any other, though it was obvious they were wary and they noticed what was missing. This sense of mistrust would fade away with time.
When Mordecai turned ten, the coven became agitated. He wasn't allowed in their gatherings anymore, he could no longer leave the village. He'd sit beneath the cypress that stabbed itself into their home, and he'd wait the days away with a book, but he knew in his heart something was wrong.
One night, she took him into his room with his supper. It began with a simple talk. If he liked the things she taught him, if he was happy there with her. He answered that he was happy, but he was uneasy. He assumed he was in trouble. And he assumed he was being punished.
He awoke in the middle of the night,
Black bile dripped down his throat, thick and oozing from his lips as Agatha held his shoulders. She spoke to him softly, as if this was what mothers did, and it would be okay. His limbs grew weak, his energy depleted. It soon became apparent that he could no longer fight against her, that the potion was making his limbs tender and his mind damped. Silhouettes of caring hands, brushing his hair softly as he lost his focus on the world. He only saw her face so close to his because the black bile was not suffocating his lungs. He saw her, but did not feel a thing, not physically or emotionally. But he felt horror, like cracks through the emptiness. He knew what sleep paralysis was, he told himself. He knew what it was, but that did not help him fight it.
It was a group of hunters that found him. Apparently one of the followers had broken away a few nights prior and everyone had assumed it was a regular disappearance. The coven themselves did not notice due to their planning, of how they would sacrifice Mordecai, of what ritual they would want to practice, of what attire Brunhilde should wear. Trivial things to some, but important things in terms of preparation. The woman had escaped due to her second child going missing, and she knew very well that the vision she had the night prior to its disappearance was no coincidence. Charmed, she was not. Ignorant, perhaps, but no longer falling for the coven's lies. She knew she could find shelter elsewhere, and it was through this burst of confidence that she found herself in the arms of hunters.
Abran Finn was dead by then, some say they saw him disappear into the bogs to never return, but his mother Lucinda was not. Upon learning a child was found in the nearby swamps, raised by a group of "cannibalistic" sisters for a purpose the saved cultists did not quite know, she grew aware that the child was Finn (though, she wasn't certain). The coven had escaped, but a few believers were sacrificed to see to it; after all, it's very easy to kill a hag. People who didn't believe in the supernatural saw it as just that: a simple cult, sacrificing children for whatever deity they followed. The hunters knew better, of course, but there wasn't much reason to spook small towns over matters that they need not worry about anymore.
Lucinda took the child in, certain that he was her blood, but she did not tell tales of her family's past. She was a mere maid at the time, though with secret magic beneath her finger tips, and she did not need more speculation of her innocence. In that day and age, there was little talk of witches and wizards, but Louisiana had its fair share of believers in spite of this. She took the lamb in and raised her son's mistakes. Even if he wasn't her flesh and blood, she wanted to right that wrong that her family began.
After all, what were the odds? In almost felt like the supposed curse was lifted.
Hags were not so commonly ruthless as the coven Mordecai lived in, he would learn. As he aged and moved around from town to town, hags lived merrily within communities without the need to hunt around for flesh, though they were typically mischievous and prone to trickery. And it was these kind strangers that gave him the willpower to live properly, as well as his grandmother's guidance. And it was through these old witches in their bakeries and bookstores that he heard the name Hollow Falls.
By the time Mordecai finished schooling, his grandmother was slowly losing a good sense of herself. Dementia rattled her bones, though he felt he had every mean to take care of her. Lucinda had taken in a skittish, traumatized child and pulled him from the horror he experienced in that cottage. He did not shake those scars, but he continued to heal over time. He would help her, like she were a child to him, and he took her to Hollow Falls where they would never have to worry about humans again.
There, at age 23, Mordecai took up teaching literature at the local high school. He would teach children important lessons, to dream and to embrace imagination. Albeit he lost control of both his grandmother and his patience for children rather quickly, both remained contained and he continued to survive.
HOW DID YOU FIND US?
a tiny critter told me about it
MORDECAI FINN
HAG
34 years old
PERSONALITY
+ KINDHEARTED ; while his students may think otherwise, while his neighbors are wary of his presence, mordecai is a man who is guided by treating those around him as pleasantly as possible. he doesn't exactly live by the golden rule, exactly, but his heart is in the right place.
+ HONEST ; one will not find lies on mordecai's tongue. he realized long ago that there was no point in lying to people, as it will only get thrown back in his face; or worse, hurt somebody else. he avoids replying if he's cornered about something he doesn't want to admit.
+ EMOTIVE ; while he's jaded to a fault, he wears his expressions on his sleeve. if he doesn't like something, people will know it, and if he's very much interested, it'll be written across his face. he talks with his hands, he smiles with his eyes.
+ ADVENTUROUS ; born in the fog of the swamp, by decaying bogs that enveloped his home, there wasn't much to experience unless he went and found it himself. the love for nature, for dirt and mud, still fuels his beating heart. a chance for exploration, whether it be a forest or a decaying building, still stirs his sense of adventure.
+ CONTROLLED ; in the sense of his ~magic~ and abilities, mordecai uses it for rather lackluster things. he may levitate a book or grow some pretty begonias with a flick of his wrist, but he does not curse or paralyze his neighbors like hags are wont to do.
- HOPELESS ROMANTIC ; in no way, shape, or form does mordecai see himself living happily in a relationship, but he pines for that opportunity to live a happy, normal life like the ones he reads in his books. in a way, he wants a fairytale relationship, where he's the one looking to be saved. the biggest issue being, of course, that he doesn't have the energy or willpower to see it through. relationships fail and he let's them and then he cries about it.
- APATHETIC / LETHARGIC ; while mordecai's heart is in the right place, the man doesn't do much in terms of helping people past the bare necessities. perhaps it was the years of his mother, the years taking care of his grandmother, the years of students who wore him down past his breaking point. in any case, he'd prefer to sleep in the teacher's lounge in his off time than deal with anybody.
- ANXIOUS & GIVES UP EASILY ; doesn't deal well with sudden attention, doesn't like being around older folk, constantly needs a cigarette. if he loses control of a classroom, he sits his ass back down and plays solitaire, because that's their fault not his. though, students tend not to provoke the likes of him (thankfully).
- BLEEDING HEART ; sob stories, people who can't quite get on their feet, stray cats, when someone eats by themselves at lunch. little things tug at his heartstrings, to the point where it's a bit embarrassing at times.
- PUNNY ; coworkers hate this man, 5 simple jokes to ruin your career!
- BLOODTHIRSTY ; despite how much he fights it, there's an underlying need for flesh. worst, it can be his younger students that spark his hunger. however, he is completely clean from eating humans (aside from the occasional brown bag package, but that's his secret to keep). most supernaturals don't seem to affect him, which is perhaps the main reason he found himself in hollow falls.
- CRYPTIC ; not much can truly be said about mordecai and his origins, and he prefers it that way. to those who have a keen eye for the supernatural, his existence is obvious. however, what he does or who he is is a mystery and this leads to a lot of misconceptions (such as, parents wanting nothing to do with him, people assuming he eats children-- he doesn't!)
OTHER NOTABLE ASPECTS
• EMETOPHOBIC ; one time a child vomited in his classroom and he climbed out the window.
• HOARDS CATS ; he has at least twelve now, his grandmother doesn't seem to notice.
• DOODLES OFTEN ; but only eyes, hundreds of eyes. often unconscious of what he's doing, normally when he's preoccupied by something else.
• DOESN'T WEAR SHOES WHENEVER POSSIBLE ; he feels as though he is better on his feet without them.
• FEELS TEXTURES OFTEN, PREFERABLY ON HIS TONGUE ; he is aware is this a bizarre habit, but he likes the feeling, and he often does it in secret. it's also best to note that his tongue is exceptionally long and pointed, a bit like a lizard's. he can completely cover the tip of his nose with it.
textures he likes: frozen things like ice or popsicles, those fake rocks they put in planters, mints (especially the chalky kind)
textures he dislikes: puddings and gelatin, anything within that consistency, that wish they were ice cream but they're not, they're lies; broccoli and celery and most plant matter, honestly.
• SUPER BAD LUCK ; mordecai is a broken mirror, and almost anything bad that can happen to him, will happen to him. this sometimes may rub off on other people, where they will dislike him for no reason or will have to endear their own bad luck as long as they're near him. is it an actual curse? mordecai believes so.
HISTORY
blood / child abuse / human eating tw
The last time Mordecai saw his mother, he was clutching his neck and staring at the ceiling, at the exposed beams of their humble cottage. Tucked away in the roots of a twisting cypress that reached farther than he could ever reach, much higher than Mother allowed. He pulled a lone hand to grasp at the beams, even if he knew it was impossible to touch. Crimson pools dripped from his palm, tracing the indent of his thin forearm in the shape of a slit, and the roof did not reveal the endless sky above, and he could not find peace in those moments of choking on his own blood. He wanted to see the sky, at least one more time, but his body was waning weak and his mother had locked the door behind her. And there were voices. Many voices. He wasn't sure if they were real. She had left him there, though he wasn't sure for how long. But as his eyes drooped, beckoning him to succumb, he heard the door open with a hesitant creak. His hand dropped then, an empty thunk echoing through the floorboards, and he heard a soft voice, startled and caring, whisper, "There's a child in here."Mordecai was born to a hag in a coven, which in itself had a gathered cult following. Whether they were charmed or simply swayed by promises, they were an unflinching commune even as their women and children disappeared, even as there was little to eat but the hags were never starved. They were tucked away in the Atchafalaya Basin, covered in wetlands and long, climbing trees that blanketed them from the view of common folk who might want to disrupt their so-called peace.
But Mordecai wasn't simply born to live a normal life, nor did he experience one. It wasn't unheard of for a hag to give birth to a boy, especially not to those who knew better. His father was a warlock, feeble and weak compared to that of the coven, but still possessing abilities they could not match. He presented a proposal, a plea. It was a deal to save his family at the sacrifice of his first child. Admittedly, hags often found themselves drawn to magical children. They tasted like humans, but possessed so much potential.
A hag ate for power, for youth, for immortality. So what would happen if they ate a child bearing a curse between its teeth?
In the 19th century, the Finn family built their estate in a thick English forest, tucked in the overgrowth of oak trees that shadowed the presence of a horned spirit they hadn't quite noticed. It was their hubris that blinded them from the danger, waving off hauntings as superstition and the loneliness of their "humble" home. Scratch marks began to surface on the doors, like an animal trying to get in. Trees grew closer, their branches forming antlers and they creaked against the windows and the chimney and the porch. Something wanted in, and something wanted them out.
As it was, no matter where the family went, they were plagued by these aberrations. Perhaps cursed by their greed, for having the audacity to not adhere to the spirit's warnings prior, they were no longer the same. Children were born with tails, with horns. Mothers died, sometimes for no explicable reason. The family's numbers began to dwindle, each branch haunted by what seemed to be nature itself. Worse yet, they often found herds of deer taking over their yards, and often grew pushy if the family tried to slip through. Some claim the spirit was a demon, while others claim it was a guardian of the forest. Others believed it was a horned hag, wishing for them to go away.
What was left of the Finn family fled to the Americas. Some found themselves in the southern United States, others went further south to Mexico. It was then, though there was no confirmation, that magic began to weave its way into Finn blood. Perhaps they were desperate to solve their own puzzles, or maybe it began to fester in their blood. Little was documented of the Finns as they grew away from each other.
But Abran Finn was desperate. He could not heal his family's wounds, he could not save them from the decades of suffering. He could conjure and charm all he wanted, but his future was as a bleak as his present and he was weak, so very weak. It was clear to him, although not the rest of his family, that it was the work of a hag that caused their terrible curse. And it would be a hag that would save them, whether he had to sacrifice himself or anyone else to achieve this goal.
Agatha was unsure the curse was a hag's doing (seemed more beast born, she told her sisters, but who was she to tell that to a man offering her a child). She would birth the child, her matron decided. With their combined effort, he would be born like a warlock and raised with his curse like a marinate to ripen his flesh. His peak would be at age ten, and he would empower Brunhilde more than just any child. This magic would be enough to keep her ageless and plump with darkened sorcery for centuries. After all, when would she ever find a chance to eat the first born of such a scenario again? In the next millennium?
Mordecai never knew he was a sacrificial lamb, at least not initially. He grew and learned to crawl the bogs and took an interest in what vast amount of books his mother and aunts gathered in their years. Agatha was the nicest, in his mind at least, as she let him read her special books that she normally locked away from the commune members. Namely, she let him read fairy tales and fantastical fiction. His favorite was Rapunzel, as he felt himself ache for her. He could run around, be free, while she was confined to a cell. His irony escaped him until he was much older, and it remained a lump in his throat not much unlike other childhood memories.
His days were filled with imagination. If he wasn't reading, he was making up stories and dancing through the swamps and through the mores. In his fantasies, he was a Lost Boy without a Peter Pan, and he would live forever like his family. He had hopes, however, that he would one day be swept from his bog and into the world where streets and buildings were commonplace. Witches baking pies with batwings alongside pound cakes, men to fawn over how interesting he was (like Belle, he loved Belle), with stray cats arching their backs and drinking milk from bowls on his front porch. It was this that woke him up each day, and he would wander back into the ramshackle village before the fog settled.
It's a little known fact that hags were one of the many causes of sleep paralysis, though theirs was a particular kind of paralysis. Like tiny imps sitting on one's chest, but instead there cooed a woman who wished to harm you more than she wished to scare you. This was something Mordecai had witnessed before, as Agatha and her sisters plundered the huts of their followers'. Looking for betrayals or things they wouldn't mind taking, but normally to take a child or a wife when they were running low on meat. They would nearly drown the sleeper in a black potion that trickled down their cheeks. It paralyzed them, but they normally woke up. They'd watch, in horror, but they would never talk about it. They'd go about their day as any other, though it was obvious they were wary and they noticed what was missing. This sense of mistrust would fade away with time.
When Mordecai turned ten, the coven became agitated. He wasn't allowed in their gatherings anymore, he could no longer leave the village. He'd sit beneath the cypress that stabbed itself into their home, and he'd wait the days away with a book, but he knew in his heart something was wrong.
One night, she took him into his room with his supper. It began with a simple talk. If he liked the things she taught him, if he was happy there with her. He answered that he was happy, but he was uneasy. He assumed he was in trouble. And he assumed he was being punished.
He awoke in the middle of the night,
Black bile dripped down his throat, thick and oozing from his lips as Agatha held his shoulders. She spoke to him softly, as if this was what mothers did, and it would be okay. His limbs grew weak, his energy depleted. It soon became apparent that he could no longer fight against her, that the potion was making his limbs tender and his mind damped. Silhouettes of caring hands, brushing his hair softly as he lost his focus on the world. He only saw her face so close to his because the black bile was not suffocating his lungs. He saw her, but did not feel a thing, not physically or emotionally. But he felt horror, like cracks through the emptiness. He knew what sleep paralysis was, he told himself. He knew what it was, but that did not help him fight it.
It was a group of hunters that found him. Apparently one of the followers had broken away a few nights prior and everyone had assumed it was a regular disappearance. The coven themselves did not notice due to their planning, of how they would sacrifice Mordecai, of what ritual they would want to practice, of what attire Brunhilde should wear. Trivial things to some, but important things in terms of preparation. The woman had escaped due to her second child going missing, and she knew very well that the vision she had the night prior to its disappearance was no coincidence. Charmed, she was not. Ignorant, perhaps, but no longer falling for the coven's lies. She knew she could find shelter elsewhere, and it was through this burst of confidence that she found herself in the arms of hunters.
Abran Finn was dead by then, some say they saw him disappear into the bogs to never return, but his mother Lucinda was not. Upon learning a child was found in the nearby swamps, raised by a group of "cannibalistic" sisters for a purpose the saved cultists did not quite know, she grew aware that the child was Finn (though, she wasn't certain). The coven had escaped, but a few believers were sacrificed to see to it; after all, it's very easy to kill a hag. People who didn't believe in the supernatural saw it as just that: a simple cult, sacrificing children for whatever deity they followed. The hunters knew better, of course, but there wasn't much reason to spook small towns over matters that they need not worry about anymore.
Lucinda took the child in, certain that he was her blood, but she did not tell tales of her family's past. She was a mere maid at the time, though with secret magic beneath her finger tips, and she did not need more speculation of her innocence. In that day and age, there was little talk of witches and wizards, but Louisiana had its fair share of believers in spite of this. She took the lamb in and raised her son's mistakes. Even if he wasn't her flesh and blood, she wanted to right that wrong that her family began.
After all, what were the odds? In almost felt like the supposed curse was lifted.
Hags were not so commonly ruthless as the coven Mordecai lived in, he would learn. As he aged and moved around from town to town, hags lived merrily within communities without the need to hunt around for flesh, though they were typically mischievous and prone to trickery. And it was these kind strangers that gave him the willpower to live properly, as well as his grandmother's guidance. And it was through these old witches in their bakeries and bookstores that he heard the name Hollow Falls.
By the time Mordecai finished schooling, his grandmother was slowly losing a good sense of herself. Dementia rattled her bones, though he felt he had every mean to take care of her. Lucinda had taken in a skittish, traumatized child and pulled him from the horror he experienced in that cottage. He did not shake those scars, but he continued to heal over time. He would help her, like she were a child to him, and he took her to Hollow Falls where they would never have to worry about humans again.
There, at age 23, Mordecai took up teaching literature at the local high school. He would teach children important lessons, to dream and to embrace imagination. Albeit he lost control of both his grandmother and his patience for children rather quickly, both remained contained and he continued to survive.
HOW DID YOU FIND US?
a tiny critter told me about it
