Ari <font face=Trebuchet MS size=2 color=#000000>arianna lissette deburgh
<p align=justify>The darkened skyline of the city was barely visible from the house she had purchased so many months ago. The only hint that she was near civilization was the faint orange-ish glow on the horizon that was produced by the neon lights of the Quarter. Here, the only sounds to disturb the pristine night were the chirps of cicadas, and the occasional hoot of an owl. The night seemed to have procured another source of light, it seemed. Candles, forming a complete circle around the figure in the midst of them, flickered and struggled to maintain their grasp on life as the wind tried to assassinate them. Little did Nature know that though She may try, the flames would not be extinguished until she said they were to be, and not a moment before.

<p align=justify>Tucking the fabric of the bleached linen skirt around her knees as she knelt, something was set to the ground before she tilted her face heavenwards-- arms lifting in the same direction as if giving some sort of unseen offering. The wind suddenly flared to life, though oddly enough, those candles didn't even give the hint of flickering this time. Hair was whipped wildly across her face as she kept it averted towards the stars, and a faint smile curved the corners of her mouth. It had been so long since she had even tried this, she wasn't sure it'd even work.

<p align=justify>As her arms lowered, so did the gust of wind, until there was nothing left but a rather small breeze sweeping over the lands-- winter's bite showing no effect on the woman in her thin dress and bare feet. A sheet of paper was produced, and without pause, it was stretched out to the nearest candle. Catching flame, it began smoldering into little more than ash, and it was only released when the fire reached her fingertips. The gnarled, smutty vestiges of paper caught what wind was left and drifted off to God knows where. It knew what it's destination was, even if the one setting it free didn't...

<p align=justify>Some called it Satan's work. Others would just rather pretend that it didn't exist; going about their nice, tidy lives without a care in the world. Deep in the heart of the Bayou, where the moon hung crisp and clear in the sky like a silver dollar, and the whippoorwills strummed their symphonies on the warm, Louisiana breeze, you just never knew what kind of magic was going to spring up. Blood invoked, soul sworn, and faith bound, sometimes all it took was a simple veve and a smile to the Fates.