RP:A Novel Approach

Part of the Pick Your Poison: A Compendium Toxicum Arc

Part of the The Seven Sins of Sagittae Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Summary: Quintessa invites Seteth to the Black Library to help her pick out books to copy into her compendium. Joan is there and doesn't like the fact that she brought an outsider to the Library, so she confronts them. Quintessa refuses to lectured by her and threatens her with the same fate that befell Ayras if she doesn't stop meddling in her affairs. A bumpy start to the construction of her book. Part One of Pick Your Poison: A Compendium Toxicum

Black Library

As you climb down into this room its immense size is the first thing that strikes you. The old wooden ladder creaks un-nervingly as your foot rests on it. This dimly lit room is huge and filled with dusty ancient bookshelves. On examination you can see the shelves are carved from solid black oak, strong sturdy and known for its arcane properties. Lining every shelf is thousands of books all colors shapes and sizes. All the books appear to be about necromancy and black magic and thus the whole subterranean chamber is filled with a most ominous evil aura that seems to sicken right to the soul of any who enter. The smell here is of stagnation for not much fresh air reaches this place; it seems to invade the nostrils like some strange miasma adding to the sickly sensations the room seems to invoke. On the walls hang various ornaments from candle stick holders that bring a tiny tinge of light to certain areas and preserved skulls of all kinds of creatures from Human to Dragon, Drow to Centaur and things even stranger than that. Faint but heavy footsteps can be heard against the cold stone floor distantly so it would be wise not to stay too long without sound reason.

Quintessa Dragana had been feverishly collecting bits of knowledge for the book she was writing for weeks. Poison making was not only a valuable source of income for the young spellcaster, but also a passion, a passion that Bradyn Mahara wanted to see grow into a mastery. The Black Library was a common source of information for the changeling, even before she was accepted in the Necromancer's Guild, so this is where she started. After spending some time trying to convince Seteth into coming with her (after all, learning more about poisons would no doubt be helpful for a thief) she leads him to the Black Library, a place that was usually reserved for members of the Guild but has allowed Quintessa to bring in other scholars of the mystic arts and vassals of her house when she had asked them to. "He's with me," she'd tell them, knowing full well that House Mahara would hear about it again. The hex blade didn't concern herself with this though; the Necromancer's Guild never scolded her for her bold assumptions of who was and wasn't allowed to study here. As soon as she had found a table, Quintessa pulled down every book and scroll she could find regarding toxins and gathered them up into a neat stack before inviting Seteth to sit with her. " 'The Compendium Toxicum' is what I'll name it," she says to him, having loosely explained why she was studying these books. "Most of the knowledge about toxins and their applications is scattered between texts or only exists in folk medicine and oral tradition. I'm going to copy down everything I can find and ask the Necromancer's Guild to publish my research." The odd girl had already cracked open her first book to peruse the contents, her mismatched eyes flickering back and forth as she skims the words. "Everyone will benefit from my work."

Seteth had gotten a kick out of using the expensive suit he had stolen from a bumbling elven merchant — whom he had ensured was well and truly drunk prior to the pilfering — in order to cast a more formal light upon himself than any genuine knowledge of the lad would ever suggest. Dark blue, with satin facing on the lapels, it matched the neat black tie and similarly-shaded slacks to present a late teenager with the style of an older gentleman. Combined with his charming smirk and striking features — reddish brown hair and eyes that shimmered like emeralds — Seteth did everything in his power to stand out in a crowd. This was in sharp contrast to the approach he often took when plying his thieving trade, of course, but it seemed to work quite well elsewhere, especially in Cenril. And though this wasn’t Cenril, there was something smugly satisfying about garbing oneself in moody colors in the kingdom of the dead and damned. Nodding to the library’s guardians more politely than he felt, he ogled the amount of knowledge kept here, confined for use to those with the authority to make it so. “I don’t doubt it, actually,” the lad from Sagittae replied to his patron. “Knowledge should be freer than all this.” With a wave of his hand he took a seat beside Quintessa. “Though I suppose, in this particular case, my job’s made easier the fewer who are familiar with the art of poisons the better.” Still, it almost pained him to say that. In Sagittae, knowledge was hoarded by the elite of the elite. Thus far, he had seen little reason to believe that Lithrydel was any different. “Necromancy,” he said slowly after a moment had passed. “Distorting the barriers between life and death. It’s frightening in a way, yet comforting in another. There are times I wish I had such gifts myself.”

Joan was deep in the stacks, going through the shelves for a few times she needed when she picked up the scents and sounds of ‘Tessa and some strange newcomer. She fornwed as she tucked the tomes under her arm while she made her way out of the shelves towards the front of the library where the tables are located, giving a nod to those fellow Necromancers and mages allowed to study here at the Black Library, the vampire merchant dressed in her normal formal wear of a black ladies two piece pants suit, matching black leather low heeled mary jane’s shoes, crisp white short sleeve ladies dress shirt under a fancy vest with silver buttons and purple accents. Black fingerless gloves going up to the elbows complex the vampire’s look. “Tessa...did you bring a Thrall?!” Joan would inquire, her free hand lightly finger combed at her deep amethyst styled pixie hair do as her voided eyes searched the features of the youth besides the hex blade, the look was no too friendly, and a bit hostile before her gaze weeps towards the younger woman. The look she sent the other clearly read ‘WTF.’

Quintessa wasn't as well dressed as Seteth, in her dark robes with barely visible bloodstains from her other areas of research, but she still carried an air of sophistication that only came with practice. After all, a baroness was expected to behave with class, even in a city of vampires. Lifting a quill from the table, Quintessa gives the young lad a smirk before beginning to copy down information in her tome. "Well, this subject is of a sensitive manner. It might still be wise to only allow certain people to read it. After all, I can't just let-" The changeling cuts herself off as she spots Joan approach, and her eyes widen in a rare show of surprise as she raises her voice at her. "Thrall?" Her mismatched shift to gaze at Seteth for a moment before they return to Joan, "Er, yes, a thrall. This is my servant, here to assist me with carrying my books. Isn't that right?" Quintessa prods him with her boot under the table to signal for him to go along with it before giving Joan an impish grin, flashing her a row of sharp teeth. "Besides, studying is hungry work. I might want a snack while I'm here," she winks at the woman before she gestures to one of the empty chairs at her table. "Why don't you join me? Not for a snack, he's mine, but perhaps we can help each other with our research. How goes it by the way? Last I heard you were showing interest in the Black Tides. A noble pursuit." Quintessa hopes she can distract Joan long enough to forget about her lack of judgement bring a 'thrall' into the library. "I'm working on toxins, myself. Do you know much about the subject?"

Seteth felt his blood rise from Joan’s icy reception. He wanted to set the record straight immediately, to let loose his antipathy toward such hierarchical inquiries, to tell this stranger he was welcome here for his own intellectual pursuits rather than by mandate of any master. Deep down inside, he knew he was Quintessa’s inferior, and he rather believed he likely always would be. But he was more than a thrall and he wanted this woman to know it. Biting his tongue gently to stay his voice, the lad lowered his head in a showing of respect and spoke softly. “Enthralled,” he said to Joan by way of greeting. Seteth knew his place here, but that didn’t have to stop him from dropping an ounce of poetic irony. Standing slowly and offering a more formal bow, he whispered something into his lady’s ear just loudly enough for anyone espying them to overhear it accordingly. “I shall fetch the next batch, my beautiful overlord. And as always, my blood brims with the anticipation of the feast.” The more he spoke his role, the more Seteth began to enjoy this little roleplay session. Shuffling off toward an aisle that was both quite close and also inconspicuous, he studied a few tomes whilst keeping Quintessa well within earshot.

Joan raised a brow as she notices ‘Tessa’s hesation and questioning of the word ‘Thrall’, Joan had never asked the other woman if she was a vampire herself, or if she was turned by Lady Larewen. Seems it was about time for that conversation very soon. Joan’s look towards the youth would turn darker now, “He is welcomed to stay, tho he can not open any of the books to read them, these are for guild use, Necromancers, and welcomed dark art users only. Nor is he it try to use any knowledge he might overhear and learn...you should put a spell on him right now so he will forget anything we talk about today.” Joan turns that dark look towards ‘Tessa, it lightens up to one of a more stern look, that of a senior student addressing a younger one. “There is stiff punishments for sharing guild information with those outside the guild, even if they are your ‘Thralls’. I’d rather you be safe then sorry, you do understand, yes?” She ask her friend and fellow guildmate before sitting down across from the hex blade, tho she does keep track of the youth out from the corner of her eyes, her nostrils flare as she scent tracks him, noting that his blood pulse had picked up and his tone of voice changed, she was a predator after all. She could easily split her attention between the two and did so now. “Yes, I have interest in the Black Tides, I may make it my main focus of study. Tho I have yet to study potions and poisons, I am going to Rhaevyn for that.” Joan tells the other lightly as she crosses her arms one over the other.

Quintessa feels a sense of relief wash over her when Seteth plays along, giving him a genuine smile as he stands to fetch more books. "Yes, my pet, very good. Bring me Will Withering's book on foxglove and digitalis titled 'Poisonous Perennials and Me'." The changeling would remember his commitment to the sudden ruse placed upon them and thank him later for it. For now, she had to play the fledgling vampire who had a bit more self-control over herself than a fledgling normally would have. After all, she was supposed to be the blood of Larewen. A cursed bloodline but a powerful one at that. The smile on the young spellcasters faces fades into a straight line as Joan begins to tell Quintessa what to do. Still the petulant teenager, she didn't like this tone she was taking with her, her annoyance building up until Joan claims to be looking out for her and then the changeling finally relents. "Of course, Miss Blackheart. I have a special potion waiting for him back at House Dragana that will make him forget the events of today. I took precautions, I assure you." It wasn't a complete lie, which made it more compelling when truth was mixed with dishonestly. She didn't brew that potion for Seteth but she certainly had them on hand and had the knowledge to make more. Placing her quill down, she closes the book she was copying from and runs a pale finger along the spine of another idly. "Rhaevyn? I've not met them. Seems like it's popular for the higher ups in our guild to just up and disappear whenever they feel like it." Quintessa was more than a little bitter about it. "It's irresponsible." The hex blade cracks open a new book and flips through the pages, dividing her attention between the conversation and the task at hand. "I can tutor you if you like on the subject sometime. I'm an expert poison maker even if I haven't mastered it yet. Together we might be able to progress your studies before Rhaevyn even comes out of obscurity again. As for the Black Tides?" Quintessa shrugged. "I learned how to cast elemental magic at the Mage Tower, so there was never any reason to delve much into it. I'd suggest talking to Khitti. Not many can match her talent with the art."

Seteth searched the aisle for the book the changeling had requested, glad to have been able to ignore that elder vampire’s command. He didn’t need to wonder whether or not Quintessa was serious when she informed Joan that she would erase his memory, because he had already been told that he was free to peruse this place for lessons in poison. After some time, a frightfully thin man with features both old and young -- a crooked nose and wrinkled cheekbones were awkwardly juxtaposed with a smooth forehead and a neck as soft as silk -- approached the lad. In a wispy voice and with his right arm held horizontally, accusingly, the strange creature spoke. “You are not of the blood.” Seteth bit his lip and cursed his luck. The one thing he wasn’t going to allow to happen was for this nonsense to interrupt Quintessa. No, he would handle it himself. He got down on his knees in front of the man and lowered his head almost to the black marble floor. “I am a humble thrall,” he said, infusing his voice with fear. He waited for a reply; there was none. Finally, he dared to elevate his head, and the man was gone. It was cause for concern, but actively seeking out someone who had only just threatened him in a building where he hazarded a guess that everyone present could eviscerate him didn’t strike Seteth as wise. Slowly, he got back up, and just when he was about to spot ‘Poisonous Perennials and Me’ a comely young lass approached him and dug it out, evidently for herself. “You want this,” the lass said. It wasn’t a question but a statement. “I… do,” Seteth stammered. This girl was quite beautiful, and he was briefly taken aback, until he noticed that her forehead was eerily familiar. As he adjusted his eyes, the figure of the old man came back into view; it was a parlor trick or magical spell, for the girl was the old man and Seteth was left feeling a fool. The old man’s lips twisted into a sneer and he handed Seteth the book. “Don’t get crumbs on the pages,” was all the creature said before leaving Seteth to his studies.

Joan arched her brow again as she listened to the other young woman speak, “Hmm...Rhaevyn is always in...might you be thinking of Raevyn?! Their names are very similar, I was speaking of our Carnomancer and healer teacher, not our ex-Magister Letum. I only met her only and that was on accident, we had tea.” Joan laughs lightly before her attention turns towards the stacks, eyes narrowing as her supernatural hearing picks up the accusation the older man hurled at ‘Tessa’s Thrall, she cuts a glance towards the teen with a curious glance. “Seems there is a issue with your Thrall my dear...” Joan informs the other, her index finger nail lightly taps against the wooden table top now. She had also notice the teenager’s slight agitated state when Joan took on the elder role, but then...Joan was mentally and physically older the ‘Tessa, the woman changed and given the dark gift she. She was 35. “Hm, yeah, I’d appreciate the help later.”

Quintessa let her gaze seek Seteth for a moment as her dark aura reached out for him like an invisible tentacle, feeling around for the young thief even if he wasn't within view. "You'd better not be causing trouble," she calls, a little too loud for the sanctity of a library. She wasn't scolding him but rather giving him an out incase he actually had gotten himself into trouble. House Mahara was -very- protective of this library and Quintessa knows that they'll pull all sort of stunts acting as guardian. The baroness didn't want anything bad to happen to her guest during their visit, after all. "Thank you, Joan. Still getting used to this whole 'being a vampire' thing. Larewen left me... ill prepared to take her place as head of House Dragana." Quintessa can't help but feel a little embarrassed about the mix-up of the two names and she laughs nervously about it. "Ooooh, my mismake," she admits, "Raevyn. Rhaevyn. The name is so similar. No, Rhaevyn with the 'H' is a fine teacher. The two of us do a lot of work between the two guilds so I speak with her on a semi-frequent occasion." Pale digits lift her quill and she begins to write down words again. "Hey, Joan, did you know that Monkshood was once said to be the cure for Lycanthropy? Some know it by it's other name, Wolfsbane, but I can't find any information that supports this claim. It's pretty interesting. Oh! And did you know that belladonna and tomatoes are related? Yeah! Turns out, the leaves of the tomato plant carry the same toxins as as deadly nightshade berries. Isn't that interesting? Small folk used to be afraid to eat tomatoes fearing that they were just as poisonous as belladonna, but we all know this isn't true. Isn't toxicology an interesting subject? I've learned so much just by copying stuff down. If you get a chance, you should memorize the Black Tide cantrips by writing them down like this. It'll help tremendously when it comes to putting the theory into practice later." Whatever annoyance Quintessa had felt before had all disappeared by this point in the conversation. She enjoyed talking about poison too much to be worried about negative emotions.

Seteth had overheard Joan’s comment about there being an issue with Quintessa’s ‘thrall’ and grimaced. Quintessa’s callout, on the other hand, he greatly appreciated. Seteth knew what she was getting at here and he also knew she was right in doing so; now that he was on higher alert for interlopers, he had begun to hear the steady footsteps of someone -- be it the old man again or someone new -- rushing toward him from another aisle. Whoever it was, he assumed it likely that they were of House Mahara. And he assumed it equally likely that they were pestering him defensively, monitoring his every action. With the book safely tucked against his chest and the footsteps fading per Quintessa’s aid, the Sagittaean spared no time emerging from behind the bookshelves and returning to the table where his mistress was gathered alongside the elder vampire. “A man came near me. Words were exchanged. It stalled my work but the task is now complete.” He bowed. “My lady.” Taking on a servant-like stance with his arms folded behind his back, Seteth awaited further orders. In the meantime, he memorized what he had managed to read out of the sly corner of his emerald eyes as Quintessa turned pages mid-rant. She really was quite dashing when in good humors, he pondered. Hushed whispers could be heard between what seemed a veritable small flock of robed vampires as they passed him by en route to some dark ritual or other. Only one of them bothered to so much as glance his way, and it was brief, but their cold red eyes would linger in his mind for a while to come.

Joan ‘Mhmms’ here and there as ‘Tessa rattles on, but her attention was on the human fully now after the incident in the stacks. “Boy, where is your mistress mark upon you?!” Joan would ask sharply not liking his glances down towards the book Quintessa was going through, her gaze going towards her fellow guild mates now in a questioning manner. “I must ask you to do something now to him and have him removed from the library, we can not have our information here shared, I’m sorry. Lady Larewen would feel the same way, in fact she would have made sure any thrall, slave or servant stayed in the common areas.” Joan just didn’t like non guild members in the Black Library, even more so since she never knew Bradyn to allow outsiders in.

Quintessa looks overjoyed to have Will Withering's book on foxglove and she takes it enthusiastically. "Ah yes, thank you, my pet. You've served your mistress well. Unfortunately it might not be safe for you here any longer. I can feel the watchful eyes of thirsty vampires sizing you up and I'd be just heartbroken if I had to defend my claim on you with violence." The hex blade says this loud enough for any eavesdroppers to listen in. Even in a place like this, Quintessa still carried her Catalian katana on her. She had too many enemies to walk around without one. If it wasn't House Nasar that would try to kill her again, than almost certainly it would be House D'Artes. "So we should head back home. I'm allowed to borrow a single book at a time from here so I'll continue writing my book in my laboratory there. 'Poisonous Perennials and Me' is a rather rare text and I'd rather study it in private." Quintessa stands, shooting an icy cold glare at Joan. "Do not speak to my thrall in that manner. You see those shackles? That is my mark, if it is any business of yours." It seemed like Quintessa had lost her patience. "You might have seniority in the guild, but we are the same rank. I will not have you speak down to me when you have zero authority to do so, nor will I have you presume what my mother would or would not approve of. You want to tell Bradyn about this visit? Fine, do it, but do not presume to speak on his behalf. We are both Novus Morior. The only difference is that I have actually memorized the bulk of magical theory as an Arcane Steward in the Mage's Guild, the parent guild to the Necromancer's branch. If anything, I'm the one who outranks you, so you'd best come down off your high horse before you end up the same way Ayras did." With this said, Quintessa snaps shut her tome and stands from her seat, leaving the books and scrolls she had taken down on the table without putting them away. "Come, thrall. Let's leave this place since we are clearly unwanted." She would then begin to head towards the exit, her left hand gripping the hilt of her katana tightly as she tucked her personal tome and the book she was borrowing under her right. "Good day, Miss Blackheart. Good luck with your progression on the Black Tides."

Seteth consciously controlled his lip muscles, avoiding both worrisome cringe and vengeful smirk, when Joan verbally berated him like a child. Like a slave. He held firm. His heart was gnawing, clawing at him to tell this fell woman what he thought of her need for marks or her memories of Quintessa’s mother. A less seasoned thief would have buckled right then and there, but for all his youth there were a few key things that Seteth knew well, and one of them was self-control in the face of adversity. Outwardly keeping his cool despite inward hatred was what had spared him on the streets of Sagittae, and it kept him from a swift death at the hands of the barons who had instead elected to send him to this realm as a prisoner to their desires. Quintessa, however, had chosen not to stand for such slander. Like a breaker of his own chains, she skillfully cited the shackles which the barons had placed upon him. He lifted his arms as if on command -- her command, not Joan’s -- to reveal their peculiar magical craftwork. Anyone who gave the shackles so much as a glance would certainly think quite highly of Lady Dragana’s handiwork, and for good reason. The magic that pulsed within them, dark and dreary, was captivating. It was almost an addictive substance in and of itself to any who practiced the wicked arts. In the heat of this moment, however, Seteth’s own addiction was the protective tirade his mistress had sent hurling at her fellow guildmate. Pride swelled within him as he drank deeply of the ire which elevated within Quintessa on his behalf. “Good day, Miss Blackheart,” was all he said. It was all that he needed to say. He kept his voice level and his movements polite and professional. His suit was still clean and slick. His hair hadn’t been tussled even a bit. But his eyes were like victorious daggers.

Joan said to you, "You are welcomed to stay you ninny, I said only that the Thrall had to have something done to him, he seems to sly for his own good. *a hand is held out towards the other as Joan stay in her seated position, her other hand made a gesture back towards the stacks and the librarians, most likely hidden among them recording everything that had transpired.* As for your ‘Mother’, she was my friend as well as my teacher and customer, I -knew- her better then the few -weeks- you had with her, I had -years- with her, so, yeah, I would and did know what she would had done. *Joan explain in a cool adult tone that broke no argument. Next she turned a even stare at the youth, yup, he was gonna be lunch if he kept up that look towards the vampire.* What do you -mean- end up like Ayras? She should be fine, last I checked up on her...as our fellow guildmate she should not come to any harm, we are not allowed to harm each other...and if we do try to harm one another that is an issue that should be brought before Bradyn before anything gets out of hand. We are suppose to be civil to each other. *A nod follows.* This nonsense about Mage guild bullcrap, guess what?! I don’t give a flying crap, Lady Larewen and Rhaevyn both didn’t seem it necessary for me to go off and join that so called ‘parents guild’, I’m stright dark arts magic, I don’t screw around with what I’m told I don’t need to learn to become a Necromancer. So you got some fancy ass learning, big deal. It doesn’t impress us fellow vampires. Dark gifts and command over Necromancery does. Learn that and you’ll gain more respect, also caring for your fellow vampires help. Have you even -tried- as the new so-called Baroness to feed us?! See to our needs as a people and community, hm?! Have you thrown a gathering or ball?! Might wanna see to that also. I am not on no high horse little girl, I’m just an adult older women that’s lived longer as a human and been aired longer as a vampire, it’s called life experiences.” Joan said her peace."

Quintessa halts for a moment, turning around to face Joan as the vampire speaks to her. Mismatched eyes narrow at the woman as she hands Seteth the books she was carrying and allows her newly freed hand to hover over the hilt of her sword. "Dark arts?" As Quintessa speaks the maleficent aura that she tried hard to contain on a regular basis spread out from her body, the shear evil energy bending the light and dimming the entire room even darker than it was already. "You might be my elder but I am years ahead of you in necromancy!" As the changeling's voice raises the wooden floors and walls begin to creak and whine under the heavy pressure that Quintessa was emanating. "Dark magic is part of the curriculum at the Mage's Tower, taught by Magister Daath, a more accomplished Necromancer than anyone you ever studied under, I assure you. I was raising zombies during the first month of my apprenticeship there. I am an expert on undead studies." Quintessa's aura begins to distort her voice as she goes on, making her sound deep and demonic. "I find your lack of faith in arcane study disturbing. It's no wonder you struggle to raise a single corpse while I lead an entire army of skeletons and zombies ready to crush anyone I command them too. Even Larewen's flesh golems now bend to my will." All around her feet her aura began to take on a physical form as a low hanging black mist that swirls around her. "And Ayras is dead. A foolish woman who attacked me in the dark forest and was slain. Put down like a rabid beast. You think I'm incapable of doing the same to you? I'll gladly show you why you should take the Mage's Guild seriously with my own two hands if you want to challenge me, which I don't think you do." The changeling lets the heavy darkness linger in the air for a long moment before she brings her hand away from her hilt. "Anything else you wish to say to me before I take my leave? I'd choose my words carefully if I were you."

Seteth took the books as bidden and kept his eyes fixated on Joan, making sure she knew that his glare wasn’t going anywhere no matter how hungry the woman happened to be. There was a part of him, the boy, the street urchin, who still feared the terrible power which Quintessa portrayed here today. But increasingly, his fear was transforming into solace. Though it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that she would someday declare Seteth her enemy, right now the thief was beginning to accept in grace that it was less likely than it had been when the two of them had first stepped foot through the Black Library’s gaudy-looking doors. Seteth didn’t need both hands to hold two books, so he kept them close to his chest with his right hand and ensured that the fingers on his left were within swiftest range of the deadly dagger with its ruby-encrusted hilt which he had hidden beneath his dark blue suit. ‘It would be a pity to stain this prized piece of attire an ill-suited crimson,’ he played with words in his head without voicing them aloud. ‘But…’ Opening his mouth, he spoke. “...I will give my life for Lady Dragana should the need arise.” He let go of lingering pride to simple things like terms and titles, embracing the greater pride that stemmed from standing by Quintessa’s side. “As her servant, her slave, her thrall, that is my calling.” He paused. “Though I doubt it shall be necessary in a battle so visibly one-sided.”

Joan felt the urge to back slap Quintessa...She just said someone was a better teacher then Larewen?! The vampire yells out “What...WHAT?! Did you just talk down about Lady Larewen, -your suppose mother-, NO, no screw you. Lady Larewen is and always will be the best, I never met this Daath character. And slow your damn roll, you -murdered- Ayras?! What the fu*k is wrong with you?! “ *The elder vampire explodes into a rage, the idle aura smoke that spills out from her eyes sparks into violet flames, that hand she once held out peacefully is pulled back and closed into a fiat she holds out in front of her that she shakes at the other before she points her index finger at the other.* “For your information -child-, I had only tested once to raise a small mouse skeleton. I have not done anything else remotely Necromancy related besides book study until recently. So sorry, I had been helping Lady Larewen with her effort to take over the other noble houses, supplying her with armor and weapons, clothing, items of need. What where you doing?! You went not even around. Screw you, I highly doubt you even have a rightful claim to Lady Larewen’s title, house, and riches, back the hell down little girl. I can bring you before a council of elder vampires and then you’d be crap out of luck.” Her own aura begins to overtake the elder vampire, dark amethyst in color, making each strand of hair stand up and dance in the invisible flames as her normally sporty length nails length to dagger length points, fangs enlarged. At the end of each dagger length nail dark amethyst flames enlighten with a whoosh, moving about in shadow at the tips...Joan’s first manifestation of the Black Tides just happened. Her features hold a look of clear miffed feelings. “I asked you to do a few simple things for the sake of the Black Library’s safety and security that we all should follow, and you act like a little butthurt bit*t. Get over yourself and comply. I don’t care about that Mage training you had, great you had it, whoop-dee-freaking-doo. You want to fight over you having that training then go get bent. I don’t care, little insight for you, I was offered the same training, I did not take the offer. Wow, you say you can raise a full army of the dead and control flesh golems! Ooh, nice, want me to throw you a damn party?! Sorry, I’m not impressed. I be more impressed if you do as asked and be a flipping adult about it.” Joan curls her finger back into her curled up hand and bangs it down into the table hard enough to rattle the thick wooden table, careful not to break it. “You...I don’t care...you have not been cleared by Bradyn and are not of the guild. That is the problem, and Quintessa should woman up and acknowledge that not be a snot nose little teenage drama queen.” Joan would swing her attention to the youth again. Yes, ‘Tessa had reached for her weapon, yes she had a big flashy aura show, but there was -rules-, and it seems she broke a couple already...these would be brought to Bradyn’s attention, Khitti’s also. “You want to use last names because you got scolded, fine, but I’m not going to call you by Lady Larewen’s, you just lost that right by talking down about her in front of me. Don’t even bother with the claim of Baroness either. I highly doubt you have right to it after just a few weeks in her care.” Inhaling and exhaling sharply a few times Joan calms herself, sucking in her dark aura, the length nails and fangs stay as does the dark amethyst flames at the end of each nail, in a huff she pushes away from the table, walks from it towards the stairs leading upwards out of the library leaving enough distance between her, Quintessa and Seteth, calling over her shoulder as she climbs up the stairs, “Report your actions to Bradyn and Khitti, like an adult would. Strap some steel to that spine and come find me after you thought things through and calmed down.” With that she was gone.

Quintessa's mouth twists into a grin as Joan looses her cool, the changeling taking obvious glee in causing her to shatter her composure. The words and threats of Joan didn't nothing to scare her, in fact, they kind of amused her even. Council of vampires? They couldn't stop fighting one another long enough to come to a ruling on anything at all. Vailkrin's government was still in shambles and if someone were to take House Dragana from Quintessa, they'd have to march on her manor and fight her armies first, the very armies Larewen had build and Joan had supplied. Joan was a fool if she thought she could influence this city more than even Larewen could and Quintessa knew it. As for Bradyn and Khitti? Quintessa had plans to stab Khitti the next time they crossed paths and Bradyn only cared for his books. All of this, however, Quintessa had to keep inside as Joan had stormed off before she responded. "Hmph," is all the changeling manages to get out before looking at Seteth. "Well that was entertaining." The aura around the strange girl is still a swirling maelstrom of rage and bloodlust. "Come along, 'thrall'," she says with a smirk, "We've still got work to do."