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RP:A Mysterious Midnight Meeting

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Summary: Lanara receives a letter from Daath, asking her to meet him at a remote location, on the eve of the new year. The witch is hesitant to go, but she heads to Xalious and after talking with the drow about their passion for magic and their future endeavors with the Mage's Guild, Daath mentions that he has a gift for the witch. Within the shadows of the garden rests a matagot, which was once a loyal protector of Blaze, and that needs medical attention as death is nearing. Lana uses her empathic abilities and takes the animal into her care, where it will become a ward of the witch, once its health has been restored. She names the feline 'Hecate' which is a testament to the Goddess of Witchcraft, and shows tribute to her Kelvarian roots.

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Lanara :: The witch had received the letter earlier in the day, and at first she thought to brush it aside, thinking it was from –another- admirer that wished to take her out on the eve of celebration. At the stroke of midnight, a new year would begin, and those in the lands were fully prepared to drink it down and live it up. Back in Kelvar, they did things –much- differently, and Lana had already turned down several invitations from friends and acquaintances. She preferred to work at the sanctuary, perhaps do an altar devotion, or even just relax. At Venin’s urging, she finally tore the letter open and gave it a read, upon hearing that a strange crow had delivered it and kept a watchful eye on the sanctuary. Was it from that drow from a few days ago? “Hm… Garden of the Forgotten… In Xalious?” And so, three hours later, the witch finds herself entering the area, wearing a black dress that rests just above her knees, ankle boots, and a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. The brisk air is a welcome reprieve from the daily grind, and it smells strongly of flowers. Inhaling, her long hair fluttering in the breeze, the witch looks as though she were planted amongst the various types of exotic foliage, as she was equally as beautiful. Lana walks through the spacious garden, her chocolate hues glistening in the moonlight, as she hopes to catch a glimpse of Daath. She doesn’t call out, as she doesn’t want to alert anyone other than the drow to her presence, though her footfalls are audible as they crunch upon the ground.

Daath is easily seen standing before the fountain, his scarlet gaze locked upon the statue that serves as the centerpiece of the fountain that dominates this garden's heart. Some may think it a work of art, but to the dark elf he sees only another idol made by a being who once thought themselves above all others. It sours his mood ever so slightly, as all his life he has despised such notions even as his own family and people thrived on it. But, on this day (the day of his own birth) does the Magister try his best to not be so crabby. He was dressed in finery once more, a common theme for the dark elf. He wears a suit tailored from the finest fabrics, matching jacket and pants of dark grey with black pinstripes with a white dress shirt and ties neatly tucked within. The jacket is actually draped over a bench near the fountain just a few mere feet away, showing the drow has a matching vest with two buttons and exotic (yet not overdone) designs stitched into the fabric. If one where keen with magic, they may even detect a slight aura of the arcane coming off his attire. Robes were so very out dated and simple, and as a noble born the drow simply didn't like to look poor. Two rings, one on each hand, can be seen as one hand rests upon his left hip while the other clutches the cane that is very much a standard with him these days as well. The wood seems old, and almost otherworldly, yet polished and kept up. The bottom and top have had what appears to be silver, maybe mithril, worked into it so that each end is protected while the body is still very much intact. The head of the cane is fashioned to resemble a basilisk head, snarling viciously as its eyes (two gems of incredible value) peer out to ensnare the senses. His hair, freshly cut, is combed and slicked back in a fashionable trend, the pure white contrasting perfectly against ebon skin. Even as Lanara seems almost a part of the beauty of this place, Daath stands apart. He has the typical elven beauty, but there is something about him that adds an air of danger. Like the big cats of the wild jungles, or the exotic flowers that are known to be able to kill a man with a single touch, Daath D'Jiv'Undus is such a paradoxical creature. But for now he simply just stands and examines the fountain as he awaits the witch's arrival, unaware (or so it seems) just yet that she is even present, for his attention seems fully drawn to the sculpture of a man the realm hardly even remembers anymore.

Lanara glances at the jacket that has been carefully draped over a bench, as though magic was neatly interwoven into the fine fabric, and she feels a pull that beckons her to come a little bit closer. She doesn’t seem to be afraid in the slightest, despite the fact that she’s meeting a mere stranger in a remote location, on a night where everyone in the surrounding area would be too drunk to heed her cries for help. One would think she’d have brought along one of her animal companions, or perhaps a weapon, just in the case the drow chose to pull a fast one and resort to his stereotype. Turning, she finds him entranced with the state of Blaze, a fairly forgettable demi-god who once roamed the realm. From the tales she heard since arriving in the lands, the male was known to court several women, had a passion for beautiful things, and he was of a holy alignment. Lanara could care less for such titles, and Blaze had little to no worth in her eyes, as she worshipped deities that held more power than he possessed in his pinky finger. Was Daath enamored with the male? Most men turned their heads in the Kelvarian elf’s direction, whether they were into women or not, simply because her beauty was unrivaled in these lands. Being one of the two last of her kind, she was used to attention, not that she was hoping to garner the eye of the drow, it’s merely surprising. Then again, maybe not, giving that he lived most of his life below the earth. How did they find the female drow so appealing?! They were sickly thin, their hair was as white as the fallen snow, and they had sour personalities. Lana scoffs, shakes her head, and walks to stand beside Daath, studying his profile from her line of sight, though she knows better than to interrupt. In some ways, the male was her superior, since her acceptance into the Mage’s Guild. Respect had to be given to ones superiors, and that is why she had come without question, despite the fact that it was very much out of the way from her sanctuary. The minutes tick by, and she finds her mind beginning to wander so rather than study the statue of Blaze, she finds herself closely watching Daath. He dressed stylish, and rather formal, for one that was merely walking through a garden at such an hour. The walking stick, with the head of a basilisk, gives her pause, and she wonders if he sustained an injury from days of old, or if it’s merely an accessory. She knew some women that wore spectacles because they claimed it made them look smarter, perhaps it was similar to that? Another ten minutes pass, and the witch thinks it’s either now or never, as she didn’t want to stand here for the rest of the night gazing at a chunk of rock beside a stranger, so she clears her throat, “Daath. Why have you called me here?”

Daath does not lift his gaze just yet from the statue, from the fine engravings, the smooth stone work and the way a master of their craft fashioned stone into such remarkable likeness of someone so unremarkable. But was it really the statue, or was it his own thoughts on something else that held him so seemingly enthralled? No one will ever know with him, as he often does many strange things to either keep people off guard, or on their guard, or even just to see how they respond to certain situations. But, after the long moments of silence are ended by her question, the dark elf says to the witch with a smooth, almost alluring tone. "I find it a necessity, to have another conversation before we go to the guild for more official matters." Here, he finally turns to face the Kelvarian elf, his scarlet eyes locking onto her chocolate as he says. "And truth be told, I wished to get to know you better, as well as I found myself in a rather odd mood. You see, I have a gift for you. Something I've come into ownership of, yet believe you're far more able to take care of." Here, the magus raises that cane of his, fashioned from the Xalious-staff he was gifted upon his promotions within the mage guild, the magical implement has been fashioned into a more unassuming cane, and is far shorter than before to hide the fact he has used a piece of that very magical wood to fashion himself a wand as well. The wand is tucked away and hidden, like a dagger an assassin would carry, always at the ready should he need it. Either way, the staff would suffice enough for him to use in the spell he casts shortly after saying. "I've come upon it here, lost and guarding nothing, yet bound and trapped by the last owner of this tower, left behind and discarded without care." With that said, verses of the arcane flow forth from his lips with masterful ease, the eyes of the basilisk head upon his cane flare with power and from within the rose bushes to their left a collection of magic starts to form in the shape of a gathering of shadows. Moments pass as the mass of darkness starts to take on the form, twin orbs peer out as the mass starts to move ever closer to the one calling it from the plane of its tortured and bound existence. Soon the shadows take shape, forming into a large black cat with blue eyes that stare at those gathered with a hunger and craving that could send a shiver down the spine of any man or woman. But, just as quickly as it is summoned forth, the matagot seems to almost collapse, weakened and too tired to try to attack those who entered its former master's domain. It knows not that Blaze is long left this realm, nor that it was left behind and forgotten by the very same man. Daath, looking to Lanara, asks. "If I leave it, it will die, but I have not the time to tend to it. Would you be willing to take in a magical creature?"

(Post 1 of 2) Lanara tilts her chin up, so that they can fully lock eyes, and she finds that the left side of her mouth arches into a half-smile. He wished to get to know her better? It’s refreshing to see that Daath was not your typical drow, though from what he had told her in their last meeting, this change took many years to see its completion. People were capable of change, and it greatly impresses the witch to see that he was still on the correct path. She wasn’t even aware that she was slightly on edge at his side, and he can visibly see that her stance isn’t as stiff, as her shoulders relax. “Another conversation… Alright. What is it you wish to know of me, Daath? You’ll find that unlike most, I’m often willing to answer anything that is asked of me, and in truth.” Sure, she’d tell a white lie here and there, but being a firm believer of karma, she thrived on honesty. “I would like to get to know you a little better, as well, since we’ll be working together.” Had she really just said she wanted to befriend a drow? What would Talyara think of this, considering the drow were responsible for the downfall of Kelvar and the death of their mother?! Full lips part, as she’s about to go on about her life before the lands, or maybe mention her day at the sanctuary, when his next line of words catch her quite off guard. “A… A gift? Like a present?” Stammering, eyes wide, she shakes her head and brushes an unruly lock away from her face. If he were to ask why she’s behaving so strangely, she would feel inclined to explain about how the customs here were very different. They both glance at his cane as he lifts the item and a hidden wand seems to materialize, likely made from an expert smith. “That’s so nifty! I should have something like that done to my broom…” Lana realizes she’s babbling at this point, though she’s unable to hide the fascination that clings to her words, as the basilisk head begins to pulse with power, and something sinister manifests just beyond the bushes. What was happening?! Exactly –where- had he been hiding this gift?! Daath is speaking about a formidable beast that had been left behind, when its owner passed from the realm, and it hadn’t been cared for in quite some time. Still, it remained loyal, as it advances on them, despite the weakness in its joints and the ailments that it surely suffers. Those startling blue eyes lock with Lana’s as it collapses on the ground, and pity strikes the woman’s heart. “I… I have never seen a feline like that in all of my years…”

(Post 2 0f 2) For a brief moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the crickets chirping and the ragged breathing of the matagot, before Lana inhales sharply. This creature would be welcomed into her care, though she couldn’t trust it at her sanctuary, and it wouldn’t be suitable for adoption to anyone that was inexperienced with shadow creatures. It was rare they even could bond with another, and this one had belonged to a demi-god! Resting a hand gently on Daath’s shoulder, the witch looks up at him, admiration shining in her hues, “You’ve brought the right elf for the job… I can’t promise she will make it, or that she won’t turn on me in the future. But I have a gift… I have the blessing of animal empathy, so the most rabid of beasts become mere kittens beneath my touch. I have never tried my magic on an animal such as this, but if I can nurture her back to health, and forge a true bond… She will be my lifelong companion.” The breathtaking smile on her fair face is all that’s needed to show her gratitude, before she leaves Daath’s side, and slowly nears the matagot. Once she gets within a close enough proximity, she drops to her bare knees and extends her right hand, which is clenched in a fist. “Come here, girl… I won’t hurt you.” The matagot hisses, using its last reserve of strength to raise a paw, which swipes at the air and narrowly misses the elf’s hand. “Accept your fate. We all have to at some point. He’s not coming back… You belong to me now.” Without warning, Lana’s hand is pressed to the large cat’s head, and it’s uncertain if the matagot has given up the fight due to frailness, or if the empathic abilities are forcing her into submission. Either way, the cat seems to calm down, and even crawls a few inches nearer to the brunette, as though accepting the rare form of affection she was ever shown.

Daath listens to her accept his request to talk more, to get to know one another better and try to form a bond founded by a common interest : Magic. But, as the Matagot is summoned, thus prompting the witch into action, the dark elf watches as she does what she does best. He studies her closely, examining every move made as she interacts with the magical beast. She does indeed have a gift, and its one he will make note of for future endeavors. He was a collector of many things, and through his travels to far off lands and even other planes of existence, he has come across many beasts he finds himself unable t properly care for. More often than not, after he gets a chance to study them, he'd simply place them back in their own environments versus a life in a cage. He wasn't a monster, even if he could easily be. Watching ever carefully as the matagot seems to embrace its new fate as a ward of the witch, Daath continues talking to Lanara. "I was truthful about getting to know you, and your sister, more. Yes, I spoke to her recently as well, so you know, and asked her the same I did to you." He smirks a bit, adding. "She was surprised you shook my hand, but she accepted just as you did. I hope this pleases you, and I hope you both get together to talk about it soon. I know life can often have even family finds themselves busy in their own little worlds." He pauses, looking about, before he says. "Speaking of busy, I asked you here because I've been busy looking for a location for what could serve us once we establish the new guild. Or, an updated guild, however one wishes to word it. I find this place, long forgotten and wasting away, still filled with possibility and wonder. I see room enough for us all to be able to stretch out magical legs out and practice our more advanced spellcraft without risking anyone in Xalious or the Mage Tower any harm." Again, a slight pause so he doesn't seem like he rambles, before he adds. "Room enough for witches to have space, as well as maybe even add a magical sanctuary for magical beasts?" A playful tease, but one he knows she may have been thinking as well, given how she took to this one already. "I just, I have been honest with you. I seek to establish a group of people who wish to see magic, all its forms and all its creatures and wonders, properly studied, properly handled and properly protected. So, I wish to know what your thoughts on that are. What goals you'd have, what you need, how I can help. Any and everything, so I can be ready once we talk to Dryaxdiin and get this ball rolling, or so they say."

(Post 1 of 2) Lanara is gently trailing her fingertips up and down the center of the matagot’s head, those glowing blue orbs watching her every movement, though the animal doesn’t protest in any fashion. The witch shifts her position so that her rear is firmly planted on the grass, as she sits beside the beast, and lowers her hand, so that she can rub it’s back and side. One that is familiar with veterinary techniques would notice that the witch isn’t giving the matagot a massage; she’s feeling its ribs to see how malnourished she is, the abdomen to test for any tenderness, and the texture of its fur to see if she was suffering any sort of skin conditions. It’s a brief, yet thorough search, so that she knows what she will have to gather from the sanctuary before moving the feline into her home. Elioyahazer would likely throw a fit, were he to walk in on a magnificent beast that would happily tear him and their butler limb from limb, but there were ways around this, until she was fully restored to health. Lana could enchant a collar, or keep her in one of the spare rooms, until she could roam about on her own in their massive garden. “I will give her the best of care… And I think I will call her Hecate, unless you have any objection? She is the Goddess of Magic and Witchcraft… At least, in Kelvar, that is one of those that we worshipped.”

(Post 2 of 2) It's then that Daath takes over the conversation and the woman and the cat study him, feeling that there is truth in his words, and Lana is nodding, as she takes in the place. “I can feel a calming aura in this part of the realm. The magic is heavy here, and I feel that the area is set apart enough that we could work in peace and our powers shouldn’t disturb anyone.” She’s also referring to the starry heavens and the cauldron room, both of which neighbored this particular area, and which were places she had frequented over the years. Lana loved to practice with others, and to teach her skills to those that wished to learn, however, there was something sacred to practicing ones craft in solitude, with nature as your guidance. Pressing her palms to the ground, Lana feels the arcane magic flowing through her veins, mingling with the magic of the earth, and she smiles at the drow. “I think this area is the perfect location for building, or relocating… And an area for magical beasts sounds lovely! I can’t think of a better idea!” Rising to her feet, she drops the shawl from her shoulders, trying not to shiver as the chilly air immediately clings to her bare arms. The satin fabric is twisted to resemble a cord, and gently tied around the neck of the matagot, so that it would serve temporarily as a leash. Lana didn’t trust her new companion to roam free, just yet, and being that she was so weak; this would be a slow trek back to Sage. “My thoughts? I hope there’s an area for divination magic… There’s something so special in trusting your inner gut, in learning how to properly learn the tools of one’s craft, and following the powers of intuition. So many misread tarot cards, palms, and don’t understand messages in dreams or tea leaves. Scrying! That is a major area that –most- don’t have the ability to use, because they aren’t opening their third eye, their center of magic, and so the signs refuse to show themselves.” She’s rambling, as magic is her true love, and when the witch is excited, she often goes off on tangents. Nearing Daath, she makes certain to pour her power into the shawl, so that the matagot behaves. “You could have several schools, teaching various types of magic… I would love to meet with Dyraxdiin. I have only met him once before, we worked together to save our ship when we were at sea. He’s an incredible mage! And I’ll be sure to talk with my sister…” There’s a hesitance in the witch, before she shyly opens her arms, “You also will be the first drow that I’ve hugged… If that’s okay? I just want to thank you for entrusting me with the care of the cat… And for bringing me in on your plans for the Mage’s Guild. I fear that my kind has been feared and mistreated for too long, and I am humbled that you thought to include witches in your council.” If allowed, she would give Daath a tight hug, before departing for the evening.

Daath listens to the woman go on about magic and feels every word she says like he spoke them himself. Before he knows it, she asks him for a hug and he is rather speechless, because he doesn't really do that type of thing. "Um...that should be fine?" He says as she moves in and they hug it out. It’s refreshing, though he has a bit of instinctual reflexes to defend himself against a possible attack, making it a bit awkward for a moment or two but still nice at the end. Taking back a bit of space, showing he is still a bit nervous with personal space but trying to not offend her, he continues with. "I agree." Changing the subject back to magic in hope of hiding his social awkwardness. " And I believe all these ideas to be wonderful. But! We will need to bring these to Dryaxdiin, and then the elders of the old guild. They tend to allow changes, and never seem to question Magisters like myself in our plans. But I'd rather not upset things too radically, unless we have to." Leaving things at that, the dark elf says. "I believe you should talk to your sister, and I shall arrange a meeting with Dryaxdiin soon with all of us present, where we can talk out these ideas and plans and try to set them in motion." He hopes that’s fine with her, and would await her answer before he too would depart for the evening. A tome of magic he has been reading awaits, as well as a nice scotch or warm tea, depending on the mood when he gets there.