life_inshadow: ([neg] looking away)
Four days back in Fandom, and Tara had finally gathered her courage to call her father and explain where she was and, by the way, could he see about arranging transport for Mr. Moxy from one coast to the other?

It was one of the more excruciating conversations Tara had ever had, filled with Mr. Maclay's indignation about daughters who swanned off out of the blue to God-knows-where with God-knows-who and worried everyone and didn't do their duty, and what their mothers might think about it. But in the end, he grudgingly agreed Tara could have her cat back if she paid for the shipping. (Incidentally, he wanted to know, who ever shipped a cat? Was this some dirty witch thing?)

Whatever nice impulses he'd had right after Tara's mother died, it was safe to say they were long gone.

Once she finally got off the phone, Tara flopped onto her bed with her eyes closed and the door slightly open. Two classes down, one to go, plus a day at the Magic Box.

She could do this.

She had to.

[OOC: I worried far too much about what was happening to the dang imaginary cat while she traveled. Open post, either way.]
life_inshadow: ([spec] asleep)
After her amazing time at the dance the night before, Tara wanted nothing more than to sleep in, possibly for a decade or so.

Her body disagreed though, so it was still fairly early when she woke up and silently snagged a book from the floor next to her bed. She could read and wait for Kennedy; staying in bed gave her an excuse to keep grinning doofily at her girlfriend.

If she was waiting for anything beyond Kennedy waking up so they could maybe go get breakfast, she didn't know it yet.

[OOC: For ... three, please.]
life_inshadow: ([neg] bowed head)
Tara couldn't remember when or how, but she must have fallen asleep at some point after she got back to the dorms. She woke up in a sticky ball on top of her covers, still dressed in the clothes she'd yanked on Thursday night.

She felt filthy, as if she were covered in Raven's blood and -- more. She felt as if her mind was no longer her own, and never would be again.

The first order of business was a long, hot shower that didn't seem to do much beyond removing some obvious grime from her skin. She dressed quickly, and put her hair back.

More grateful than usual for her lack of a roommate, Tara then laid a double line of salt at her doorstep and, after a quick chant to Astraea for her own purity, started methodically going through her spellbooks. She'd never taken special precautions against possession in the past, but there had to be a way to ensure no one would ever use her that way again.

The way she'd been used was bad enough already.

[OOC: Closed door, open post. Player will be on and off today.]
life_inshadow: ([neu] a little jaded)
Tara never thought she'd regret putting all of her classes in the second half of the week, but today, she did. She would have welcomed an hour or so of something normal to get her back to thinking about something other than alternate dimensions and rips in the fabric of reality.

Their magic had worked; that was something. She just wished she could have done more, even if she didn't know what more would have been.

At least it was over. Sighing, she settled onto the floor cross-legged and held out a cat toy shaped like a fishing rod. Mr. Moxy was in for an extra-intense play session today. She needed to spoil something.

[OOC: Open door, yep!]
life_inshadow: ([neg] looking away)
Tara was thoughtful when she got back to her dorm room after Lieutenant Kerrigan's class. What did she want to do? What could she ask of life?

She'd been carried along by stronger people and stronger personalities most of her life. It had gotten her to age sixteen and a half ... could it really get her through the next fifty years? Or was she going to have to start making decisions and going after things?

Terrifying concept, that. But it kept going around and around her head. She rearranged her crystals, keeping her hands busy more than she was doing any specific spell, as Moxy twined about her feet.

[OOC: Door closed, post open.]
life_inshadow: ([spec] writing)
Curtains drawn so she wouldn't have to look at the grey, foggy landscape outside, Tara sat cross-legged on her floor, bedroom door cracked open and R.E.M. softly playing on her stereo. She occasionally munched a cookie from the batch she'd made last night as she read.

It was a casual pose, but the studying she was doing was anything but casual. After class and talking to Kennedy yesterday, she wanted to see if she could find anything in her books on magic about lifting a fog, or detecting demons, or fear spells or -- anything, really.

The problem wasn't that she wasn't finding anything; it was that she was finding too much, and a lot of it contradicted itself. Taking a brief break, she absently stroked Moxy as he wandered by. "Bet you miss your friend," she murmured, glancing to Fiona's empty side of the room. She'd gone home to take care of family business. While Tara missed her, she was almost grateful there was one fewer person to worry about on the island until the fog lifted.

[OOC: Cracked door, open post!]
life_inshadow: ([neg] all alone is all we are)
Tara had nowhere in particular to be until Wednesday, and that was a good thing. Dhe might be ready to leave her room again about then. For now, she was just frozen.

It wasn't enough that she'd almost solicited a prostitute or plotted with Karla to help their "darke master" Merlin. No, she'd helped kill someone, too.

Evil. Pure evil, and with no demon to blame such things on.

She left a message and contemplated calling Merlin and Karla, too, before she realized she couldn't just yet. Instead, she curled up under her afghan, lightly stroking Mr. Moxy's back as the kitten kneaded her legs. She was grateful he had stayed a normal cat.

[OOC: Closed door, open post.]
life_inshadow: ([pos] shyest smile)
Tara was, in her quiet was, bubbling over with happiness when she woke up Monday. Not only was the demon story she'd believed all her life banished like a bad dream, but she'd managed to get her mother on the phone last night before anyone could intercept the call.

Her mother hadn't entirely believed Tara's story; she'd had the demon thing in her head for too long. Still, she'd at least agreed to try to talk to someone outside the family about it. That was a start. Everything else would follow.

Door open, Tara sang softly to herself as she did some tidying. The room didn't entirely need it, but it felt good and right to clean.

Her eyes lingered on a spell she'd copied out a long time ago -- one that would hide all demons and, she thought, protect her if things went badly. She tossed it into the trash without a second look.

[OOC: Open door, open post.]
life_inshadow: ([boy] chilling)
Tara was trying not to freak out about waking up a boy.

This was why she was staring in the mirror, Ramones shirt jerked over her head, visibly but silently wibbling. She suspected that if she moved or said anything, she'd go into full panic attack mode and that would be Bad. (Dimly, she knew the same thing had happened to the boys not so long ago, but that was ... you know. Them.)

She hadn't been messing with her spell books the night before, so at least she could be fairly certain she hadn't done this to herself. In a second, she might be okay enough to move.

[OOC: For the roomie. Also, normally I wouldn't use the same PB as somebody else, but Elijah HAS THE SAME SHIRT AS AMBER. How could I not go with that?]
life_inshadow: ([neu] looking into the distance)
Tara was spending Sunday night the same way she had spent most of her weekend: sitting cross-legged on her bed, flipping through a book.

Because she'd been focused most of the last two days, though, she had switched from a book of demonology to a comic book about the children of superheroes. She was developing a crush on the alien girl who flew.

While she read, she absently flicked balls of paper around the room telekinetically for Mr. Moxy to chase down. This totally counted as practicing her powers.

The room door was open, and Tara's cat was growing into a fierce hunter.

[Open post, yep!]
life_inshadow: ([pos] sneaky smile)
With no classes and Fiona a cat, Tara's last few days had been quiet. She wished she could say she'd done something useful with them, but it had mostly been reading -- there was a new Juanita Drake, Werewolf Killer novel out -- and trying to drive the non-Fiona cats insane with string and catnip.

Finally done with the book, she turned on her computer and logged onto a Wiccan website. Most of it was henna-and-spice-rack stuff, but one or two of the people on it knew what they were talking about and could spell, which made it the least depressing message board she knew of.

Her room door was open even though she wasn't expecting company.

[OOC: Open post! I just realized she hasn't been around in a while.]
life_inshadow: ([spec] writing)
Content to be back in the room -- the cabins were fun, but a little chaotic for Tara's tastes -- she spent much of her day contentedly placing her possessions just so, in the way she hadn't taken the time to at the start of summer. Once she was done, the room felt much more like home, with crystals arrayed along the windowsill to catch the light, spellbooks in order of usefulness on her bookshelf, a potted philodendron on her desk, and a framed portrait of Tara as a baby with her mother and grandmother on the nightstand. The only thing the room lacked, she thought idly, was a kitten -- and that was something she'd have to ask Fiona about.

That done, she put Tori Amos on the stereo and settled at the desk and started on a note home. Fandom was almost impossible to explain, which was why she was writing it down; she knew that if she tried to call home, she'd stammer too much to get the words out even if she caught her mother when no one else was around.

The faintest whisper of a chill passed over her; it almost felt as if the island's psychic hum of background energy had ... flickered. Like something was going wrong, or could go wrong.

Or it was a draft, and Tara was imagining things. It wasn't enough to be certain either way. Frowning, she decided it didn't matter and returned to the note.

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