Midnight Margaritas {Storyline for Owens family/Salem Coven} Category: Uncategorized
Some Background:
The
Owens family has long been known as a line of witches, their history stretching
all the way back to their ancestor Maria Owens, whose heartbreak forged both
their power and their curse. Though every generation, the Owens women learned
to use their abilities not for spectacle, but to help others in healing, guiding,
protecting, and keeping the old ways that had sustained their bloodline for
centuries. They grew in number as the years passed, each new daughter
inheriting the same fierce loyalty and intuitive magic.
What defined them most was not the curse, nor the power, but the unbreakable
bonds between them. The Owens family is a tight circle of witches who would do
anything to protect one another. In their, family and sisterhood are the
greatest form of magic. Today, the family is led by the current elders: Frances
and Bridget Owens. As the matriarchs, they carry the weight of tradition, the responsibility
of the lineage, and the strength of every Owens women who came before them. Frances
brings the fire, wit, and decisive leadership; Bridet brings warmth, intuition,
and steady guidance. Together, they anchor the family, ensuring that Owens’
legacy endures.
Drinks all around:
The mood within the Owens home had been heavy as of late. So much so that even
the darlings (the Sally’s children). The very atmosphere of the house had
shifted from being light and loving to dread. Frances could feel something was
going on and she knew Jet (Briget) could feel it as well. Frances knew that
there was one thing that could help bring some light to the house. Something
that had long been a staple within the house. Before getting her sister up, she
slipped on her house coat, stepped out of her room, and padded down the hallway
toward the kitchen.
The
familiar clink of glass broke the silence as she gathered the items needed for
the great task. The blender, limes, salt, and the tequila were quickly placed
down on the counter. Once she looked over the items and was satisfied, Frances hurried
to Bridget’s room and knocked softly, “Jet, are you up? We must have margaritas
tonight. They darlings are far too much troubled or something. I can feel it. I
know you can as well.” She said opening her sister’s door slowly.