Name: Verbena
- Named by her father after the small purple flowers that would line the border between the shore and the forest during the summer.
- She dropped her family name after the death of her father.
Description:
-Abilities, Livelihood and Home-
Verbena is a "knot witch" who, as the name suggests, uses knots for the casting of magic and the performance of rituals. Her magical studies, and thus practices, are mainly focused on charms. She is relatively weak with hexes. Anything she sews she sews using thread soaked in Blood Orange oil (gives a warm feeling of safety, also good for soothing nervousness and anxiety) and knotted with charms.
However, she isn't inherently magical; that is, she cannot use magics on her own.
"But how does she cast stuffs then??"
She has a familiar! She is accompanied by Maria, a black cat. Maria usually manifests as just a cat-shaped shadow; in this form she usually stays within Verbena's shadow, sometimes causing others to see her shadow as that of a sitting cat. Sometimes she manifests as an actual cat, in which case she/it appears as a sleek cat: all black except for the ends of her legs and tail which have dark red fur, dark enough to be perceived as black from a distance.
She has no gender but Verbena fancies it to be female, it also hates light.
- Maria is a spanish name meaning "bitter sea" fun facts!
Verbena lives in a small wooden cabin built in a deserted stretch of shore. It has 3 rooms, the largest room being a combined living-room and kitchen with a stone fireplace, a dark room with thick curtains for rituals and witchcraft basically a study room, and a bedroom.
The main room has a comfy chair and table usually littered with books, bits of twine, and rope. Has no electricity but it's comfy.
The main room has a lot of pots suspended from ropes tied to the roof, they're used for growing herbs and flowers. It's nice.
There is a small shed a few steps away from the cabin for smoking fish.
"But how does she afford all these?"
Verbena is a fisherwoman by trade spring-to-fall and sells most of her catch to neighbouring villages. She is known in the local area as a good fisher for her excellent hauls but really it's just some charms tied around her fishing rod. She keeps some of the catch to eat and in the fall she smokes some for winter.
During the winter she travels to New Meridian (It's a skullgirls OC, surprise! Her familiar is also actually a parasite) to sell oils she made from the various herbs and flowers she grows. She spends some of this money to buy oils and other materials that she can't make/grow herself.
-Appearance-
Biologically, she is in her 20's. Chronologically she is in her 40's. Being with Maria makes her age slower.
She is 5"5' tall and has unkept black hair kept at shoulder-length. Warm dark-brown eyes with light skin tanned by days in the sea, her long slender fingers sport immaculately kept fingernails; seemingly the only part of her she tends to on a regular basis. Her skin returns to its regular paleness in winter when the sun shines weak.
At home her attire consists of a t-shirt made from thin coarse-textured cloth(white) with slightly baggy dark-brown pants of a thick-heavy cloth (treated with lanolin for water-proofing). In the summer she simply rolls her pants up to her knees.
She usually wears the same when she goes out to sea + a wool longshoreman's cap. When the weather gets cold she wears a
Barbour jacket on top of her coarse shirt, it's of a slightly lighter brown than her usual pants and it's made of raw wool (fun fact, raw wool which still has the fatty lanolins from the original animal can almost be waterproof!). It's slightly too large for her, the sleeves end about an inch after the wrist and it's slightly baggy. She rolls up the sleeves during labour-intensive work. She has a comfy scarf that's starting to unravel in a few places, she should really get a new one but it's the first thing she's knitted that she liked.
On trips to the city and surrounding villages she wears her usual jacket and pants with the white shirt beneath. Obviously she won't wear that during the summer, during summer she wears a men's long-sleeve (usually white) on trips to the city. The usual white t-shirt is fine for trips to neighbouring villages though.
All of her clothes are her father's, they are well-worn but also obviously well-cared for.
She's sewn a lot of pockets inside of the jacket where she keeps bits of twine and small rope for magics.
She wears boots of thick leather, the laces were doused in Patchouli oil for protecting against hexes.
All her clothes smell of herbs and sea-salt.
-Personality-
Quiet and reclusive, but not at all disagreeable. Often called kind, she is clumsy when it comes to interacting with others (mainly in-part due to living alone) so she doesn't bother trying to interact. Pleasant company if you don't mind long stretches of comfortable silence and taking the lead in conversations. She enjoys a dark-sense of humour but is also particularly fond of puns and word-play (her puns are known to kill men).
Likes conversation once she's warmed up to someone. (takes a long time)
Buys romance novels on trips to New Meridian, she enjoys these books but isn't particularly interested in having romance of her own. Is what she says, at least. She usually sandwiches the novel between the latest flower/herb/plant encyclopaedia and a recipe book (not just cooking, mind) as an attempt to get it by without notice. It doesn't work.
She likes rainy days when she gets to stay indoors, read with a cup of tea, and talk with Maria.
Speaking of tea, she usually enjoys black teas. She makes her own teas after realising how much money she could save if she just used the herbs she grows. Most of her own blends aren't very good, but she's had a few successes. Particularly likes her Lemon Verbena tea which is refreshingly sweet and lemony. Especially likes it after a long day at sea.
Also owns a camera which she bought on impulse (happens a lot) a few years ago. She likes to wander around and take pictures on her off-days when she's had enough of reading. She has the film developed whenever she goes to New Meridian.
The wall around the fireplace is covered with the pictures she's taken. She likes the way it looks.
Speaking of personality... Maria is her own person too, of course! Well, as much of a person a sentient shadow can be anyways.
Maria likes to laze around and sleep like an actual cat. Usually condescending during conversations, but her tail sways back-and-forth slowly when talking with Verbena; something she usually does when she enjoys herself.
Acts as Verbena's mother figure, gentle and caring.
Uncharacteristically snuggles with Verbena when it's cold. She also hates light so maybe she's just snuggling with her because it's better than staying by the fire? I think it's cuter if it was her way of showing her affection though. <3
She sometimes stays on one of the chair's armrests when Verbena is reading, she does this to make snide remarks about whatever the characters in Verbena's love stories are doing.
They won't admit it but this is both one of their favourite activities.
-History, and Current Life-
When Verbena was born her mother died, leaving only her and her father.
They had lived in a cabin on the shore, separated from the village which was built on a series of piers, but it was comfy.
As a child she didn't go to school; rather, there was no school in their village. Her father taught her everything she had to know. By her teens she was already a darn good fisher and she knew how to tie most every knot a sailor would ever need.
All the other kids often teased her, she was a "cursed child" they told her her mother's death was her fault. She was a bad omen, they said. She began to keep to herself.
Her father was frustrated... but he loved her.
Her father loved her... but he didn't know what to do.
Similarly,
She loved her father, but she felt alone.
She loved her father, but he couldn't help her.
She would stay at home all day while her father fished, tying all manners of sailor's knots, wishing that she could come with her father to fish. Unknowingly she began to channel all her frustrations into them.
It was at the height of this frustration that she met Maria.
Early in the morning she was walking along the beach when she found a body washed ashore. She was shocked but she crouched down to see the man closer. That was when his shadow shifted. A cat. Her father went ahead and told the village about the man, she stayed at home speaking in hushed whispers.
Maria taught her magics and Verbena channeled these teaching into her knots.
"Verbena... Child," it purred, "Would you mind being with me?"
"What do you mean," she asked, "I'm with you, aren't I?"
"Yes... yes. But I've grown very weak. I'm a parasite, I need a host."
"A parasite..." she remembers them vaguely from what her father told her as a child, hosts are hated, less... people, more... things for people to hate, things to be pushed away. But in her confused loneliness she remembered all they had told her: surely a parasite is nothing more? "For a parasite you sure are courteous." She smiled, how long had it been?
"No use for a host who hates you, I've had enough of those." Its tail swings back-and-forth as a monstrous shadow on the wall.
"Then, take me."
Once she had become a host, no one knew about it. She merely asked her father if she could keep the stray cat she had found.
But one night she overheard a conversation outside their door.
"[...] She's my daughter, what do you want me to do!?"
"Drive her out! You know how she is, she's an ill omen."
"But that's... that's not enough to just..."
"I know. I sympathise with the lot of you, but... Some kids said they were playing around 'ere and they overheard her talking to someone. D'you know who she could've been talking to?"
"I... The cat..."
"A cat can't talk back can'it?"
"I suppose..."
"Precisely. The kid's a witch. We don' want 'er killed in a public execution, now do we?"
"You're right..."
"I don't want 'er dead either, but the only choice we've got is to drive her out."
"You're right. We'll... we'll do it."
But when her father came in he didn't speak a word.
She knew it was a decision made for her benefit, but she felt betrayed. "Fight him! Talk back! Don't you love me enough to stay with me!?" She was yelling within herself.
The next day everyone had gone to fish.
In the early morn, when she woke up with her father's bed empty, she began to gather pieces of twine.
A low purr, "What are you doing, child?"
"Wind knots. There's a storm brewing on the horizon but it won't be here 'till nightfall."
"Shouldn't you be tying charms to protect your father then?" It brushed between her legs and looked at her, head cocked sideways as if in worry.
"He's a traitor... He betrayed me hadn't he?"
"But it was a choice made for your well-being."
"He could've fought for me, but he didn't." Teary eyed.
"I suppose." A resigned purr, it brushes against her leg again as it walks to somewhere behind her.
When she turned around there was nothing there but her shadow. She strung her wind knots on the window.
That night, the wind howled and the sky tore itself asunder as it began to melt into the earth.
Her wind knots had worked and they began to churn the sea.
She brew herself a cup of tea and went to bed.
When she woke up her father wasn't in his room.
In fact, when she woke up and went out the door the village wasn't there.
The sea had reclaimed everyone: everyone's lost at sea.
But she felt relieved... as if her worry, too, had slid into the depths of the ocean.
She went home, broke fast, and slept until the afternoon.
But when she woke she was drenched in cold sweat. She missed her father. Soft sobs and shaking shoulders. She desired someone's company... she longed so badly to simply... talk to someone. But there was no one there, not Maria, not no one.
Slowly, agonisingly, she began to offload this feeling on Maria. She felt tricked. Maria was a demon, who wished only the death of everyone, and she was used to this end, surely.
Evening fell and Maria finally came.
"You're eyes are swollen, dear... Have you been crying?" It purred so softly that it caught her off guard.
"You'd tricked me haven't you?" It cocked it's head sideways, "You tricked me into killing everyone!"
She was hysterical now, yelling at it. In response it merely jumped up onto the table and sat, listening patiently.
When she had finished she merely stood there, fists clenched,
angry.
It stooped low and opened its mouth. Rope fell to the table with a soft thud. She had been so angry that she hadn't even seen the rope in its mouth.
"What... what is this?"
"Rope, doused in Cypress oil. It was hard finding that around here, you know." Its tail swayed gently.
"And... to what end shall I use this? Who is it you want me to kill now?" She spoke calmly but her voice conveyed anger.
"Cypress oil, my dear, is to comfort those who grieve the dead and to help the dead to connect with the divine."
Her fists relaxed, "And... and why this oil?"
It jumped down from the table and brushed against her legs, "You hadn't done a thing, dear. I didn't impose any magic into those knots."
"I... I..." Her knees felt weak, she sat down and cried again.
"Now, now, child, let it all out. You'll feel better. Tomorrow you'll have a new life."
Left with nothing but her father's clothes and the small boat he kept when he wished to fish for leisure, she began her life alone.
The other villages thought her to be a witch, being the only survivor of her village, but she grew on them. She doesn't speak to anyone but they could see how hard she worked. Witch or not, they could at least respect her as a fisher.
With nothing to call her new companion she asked if it could be called "Maria"
"Maria? Not that I mind... but why this name in particular?"
"I have never seen my mother, but after a life with my father I'd like to spend the rest of it with my her."
In the present she wakes up early to tend to her boat, then goes back to eat.
Afterwards she would go out to sea to fish 'till the afternoon, Maria would stay in her shadow the entire time, annoyed at the harsh sun.
Late in the afternoon, after she'd stored the fish and tied down the boat, she would brew tea and read. Once the sun had set she would make dinner, always leaving something on the table for whenever Maria would wish to eat.
For the next few hours she would go into the study (her old room) to tinker with knots and oils, scribbling into a notebook by candle-light as Maria watched and made occasional, patient, remarks. Then, with a breath, the lights would go out and she'd sleep dreaming.
