RP:Disillusionment
Part of the The God of Undeath Arc
Summary: Everyone is content with the resolution of Quintessa’s severance from Caluss, everyone except the one person who was not told about what was truly happening. Simmering in negative energy for days as she slowly makes her way back to Xalious, Karasu comes into the Mages' Guild ready to kill whoever she needs to. AKA Karanuke
Village Path
This path begins just outside of the town and leads straight to the Mage Tower. The tower is smaller than the watchtower to the south, and much odder. It appears that this tower is made completely of pure water. The windows seem to shine like glass, and probably are, but the tower is solid water, holding the other pieces by magic. From here the door looks to be made of wood, and there are no hinges you can see, but rather melded straight into the walls of the tower. The magic to create this place must have been enormous but the benefits well worth it. An impenetrable tower, unbreakable except for the man made entrances, it would be the perfect place to make a stand. And you do not doubt that the wood is also magically endowed, such a little magical effort compared to the great tower of liquid. To the west is a rustic looking library that is connected to the Mage Tower, but is made out of ordinary materials, though well fashioned, which seems to hold many books to help in magic learning. To the east is a rough cliff, and to the south is the main part of town.
Karasu looks up at the Mage’s Tower that extends past the first small stretch of clouds. There are still scorch marks along the upper floor’s windows from the fights years before, and the overgrowth that allowed bodies to be hidden has been cleared away, inadvertently damaging the magical herbs garden in the process by those working in haste to put a bandage on the fatal wounds to the Guild’s reputation. There was no sign of Odhranos left here. No sign of Dyraxdiin’s influence. The ghosts of Tiphareth’s time here had long since passed. What purpose was this place supposed to serve if not for Xalious’ sake? How old was Karasu when she realized that the fact that the Mage’s Tower touched the sky was nothing special? The grandiose doors open themselves when the spellblade approaches.
Mage Tower
This room is huge, and the entire place is covered in blue and white marble, with many torches and eight pillars reaching up to the ceiling to reinforce the room above, and keep the tower standing. The columns are covered in mystical runes, probably magic to keep the pillars strong, making them able to withstand pressure that normally wouldn't be possible. In the center of the room, there is a spiraling staircase made of glass, and also inscribed with the same type of runes as the pillars, leading to the higher levels of this magical tower. Next to the stairs there is a small desk here with a sign on it. At the top the sign reads... directions for all new mages. There is a door to the south, and you now notice that it too, is covered in the strength giving runes, that leads outside and a door to the west leading to the dormitory, a place for young mages to rest after their studies here.
During the colder months, the bustling of students eager to prove themselves worthy of entering the Guild as an apprentice is nonexistent. Now it is replaced by the occasional shuffling of scrolls and books being moved through the air in an endless dance of organization and reorganization as the tower’s guardian sits next to the glass spiral staircase. Karasu looks like she crawled out of Perdere. Her cloak and clothing are scorched, there is soot all over her arms and face, and there is a glassy, dazed look to her expression. Her left thumb idly rolls over the sheath containing the sword of her fiance, who for a good few days, she believed to be dead… At least until she saw the papers. Wordlessly, she traverses the marble flooring, until she is standing in front of the desk, and in front of Foreza. Once in front of him, she only says, “Where…?”
When the archmage and the two magisters returned some days ago, there was a concealed commotion. That Quintessa had arrived in the particular state that she did led him to expect the vision of Karasu as well. As days passed however, that expectation became more of a hope. It wasn’t usual for them to be so far apart for so long, and the reluctance or inability of any to describe what exactly happened, led him to inquire into the nature of the archmage’s wounds. His instinct was confirmed, it seems, and he quietly nursed a blooming pride. It was his prerogative as head of security after all, to know what threats may come. And so despite the fact that Lanlan’s edict toward travelers to and from Vailkrin had his forces spread thin, he made himself available at the tower more often than he normally would like to. The half-orc battlemage is here now, as Karasu walks through the doors. Internally, relief washes over him. Externally, he’s stoic. Solidly professional. “Magister Karasu, you’ve been away for some time,” he says, which in his subtle language meant that he was glad she was back. He believes he recognizes in her an indignant anger. A barely contained rage seething just beneath the surface. He shouldn’t entice it to breach. “Are you looking for Quintessa? She is here, I’m sure she’s been waiting for you to return.”
Karasu tilts her head, her gaze becoming more focused now that Foreza has mentioned her name. Quitnessa was suffering. Taken hostage, made a fool out of, because Karasu had been unable to protect her properly… Because of Lanlan and Valrae. The Jubaku no Kijo’s influence thrashes in her mind, trying to influence her to seek out her lover first so that the sword may be reunited with its true owner. Karasu’s anger takes precedence, though, and she wills what she believes to be an immature impulse away. With a slow, deliberate inhale, Karasu rolls her head from one side to the other with a series of resounding pops and crackles from her joints. Her anger is not with Foreza. “Where… is Lanlan?” Her grip tightens on the Jubaku no Kijo, and she pops the sword out an inch from its sheath so that it is ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. So that it may feed. The demifeline skulks around the desk as if she owns the foyer, walking up to the series of runically-engraved bells meant to serve for evacuations. “These still work, do they not?” She asks as she runs a clawed nail over the etchings.
Foreza can see his estimation was off, it wasn’t Quintessa, it was the archmage. She was too angry to see him right now, he could feel it. He knew all too well the consequences of letting one’s anger get the best of you in inappropriate places. They’d have to find an appropriate place. He pretended not to see the danger that seemed so imminent, so he’d have no reason to deceive her. “The archmage is rehearsing one of his demonstrations, perfecting it before he presents it to an audience.” A lie, but hopefully a believable one. “I’ll take you to him, it’s nothing he can’t be taken away from.” He attempts to steer her away from the alarm sigils. “They do.” He chooses his words carefully, so he can still afford himself deniability, and allowing her the chance to consider her intentions. “Is there a threat to the students you would like to report?” He scribbles something in a notebook behind the desk before closing it, appearing to be finishing up some paperwork before he opts to escort her. The writing would appear in a notebook owned by Valrae, instructing her to gather up Quintessa and to meet him behind the barrier. The haste of his scrawl would be evident and hopefully impart the urgency. “It’s been some time since I was your instructor Karasu, but I’m sure the two of us could safely contain whatever danger you’re anticipating.”
Something inside Karasu stirs. A semblance of concern for the older half-orc, a feeling that she wanted to protect him from what she had in mind for the archmage. Karasu opens her mouth to speak, but her eyes fall upon the portrait of the archmage that had only lasted less than one year before his untimely suspension of not-quite-death. “Everything good here dies.” Karasu mumbles to herself, releasing her right hand from the alarm bells and wiping some of the soot off of her. Despite the edges of her tunic and gloves bearing scorched edges, the skin underneath was unmarred, untainted by the soft glow of potions that one would normally have if only for a few moments after consumption. “The danger is not to the students themselves, Foreza.” As they make their way up the stairs, approaching the safeguarded room, something occurs to her… Lanlan never writes down his speeches on parchment. The spellblade slows her walk, allowing a few paces before tilting her head to one side, her eyes growing wide and wild as she stares at Foreza. The Jubaku no Kijo pulses again. ‘You’ve been betrayed. Poor, naive girl, betrayed by everyone she holds dear. You should have just gone to see your pet.’ “Foreza. You took me in even when no other instructor wanted to at the height of the Vakmatharas Panic. Did you ever believe me to truly be the next harbinger of death?” Her tone is light and innocuous, but her expression betrays the cacophony of emotions threatening to spill over the surface. She would not draw her sword at Foreza. Not yet.
Foreza half turns to the portrait when he sees her eyes settle there. He doesn’t need to see the portrait to know what she means. Odhranos was somewhat unique, in a way that he almost didn’t fit in here. An ideal of what the guild should’ve been, maybe it even could’ve been. He was genuinely good, curious more than ambitious, selfless. It’s no wonder what happened to him. He was too good to be true. He isn’t as comfortable with lying as some of his colleagues, so he doesn’t respond. Goodness doesn’t survive here without some caveats. Though he feels the rising ire at his back, he doesn’t acknowledge it or prepare for it. He knew it wouldn’t take much to release it and they were almost behind the barrier. Though he was fighting his instincts, he allows her the chance to stab him in the back if that’s what she wishes, but he was gambling on her goodness surviving. She draws him in though, remembering back when they were both younger, when he was still allowed to be a teacher. He turns to see the struggles in her, and accepts them without judgment. They were his struggles too at times, after all. “No,” he says curtly. “But I could sense that one day circumstances might force a choice on you.” As they cross through the barrier, he allows her to pass him. “I should’ve done more to prepare you for that choice, but I was selfish.” If he hadn’t let his emotions to get the better of him years prior, she would’ve had a teacher that didn’t treat her like a potential enemy. He won’t let her make the same mistake it seems, as he interposes himself between her and the exit back through the barrier. “Lanlan isn’t here, Karasu. I’m sorry I lied to you.”
Elsewhere in the Mage’s Tower
Valrae had been sleeping. The witch was curled like a cat on her settee, tucked warmly beneath a downy blanket of deep indigo and delicately embroidered golden stars. The fire that had been healthy and tall only hours before had dulled to ash and low burning embers, plunging the room into gloom and long shadows. A chill was creeping in from the window above her head, the glass of her window frost over a clear black sky burning bright with winter stars. There was a cup of long gone cold tea balancing precariously on the short tea table in front of her, ready to tumble over with little more than a stiff breeze, as well as a half eaten dinner of squash soup. The simply bound book that held enchanted pages that connected Foreza’s to her own let out a low, musical note that caused her to stir from sleep. She was slow to wake, hanging in the space between a sweet dream and the dark room as she pressed her cheek into the warmth of her pillow and yawned sleepily. When she finally rose she moved with no urgency, pressing the tips of her toes onto the cold stone floor as her arms reached toward the ceiling in a long, back arching stretch. Her short walk toward her desk was clumsy with sleep, her feet heavy and slow. Valrae flipped the book open on another yawn and struggled to make out the writing in the low light. She reads the words several times, struggling to comprehend. When the message finally settles around her, her heartbeat quickens. The witch wastes little time throwing a white velvet robe over her negligee before collecting only her wand. Valrae’s feet were cold and her unbound hair trailed behind her like the golden tail of a comet as she ran toward Quintessa’s office. The tea that had been hanging in the balance toppled to the floor as her door slammed.
Quintessa had sensed an ill feeling in the air, her dark fae instincts subtly warning her of the impending storm looming on the horizon. The hairs on the back of her neck stand tall, reacting to the static magic that had just entered the Mage’s Tower. It was heavy and dark, like molten lead boiled in a pot to poor on besieging enemies. A hate-filled, spiteful energy that Quintessa recognized all too well. “Karasu…?” The changeling rises from her loveseat, the book she was reading abandoned on the cushions as her bare feet meet the smooth, cold stone of the floor, its coldness in sharp contrast to the broiling inferno the dark fae could taste in the air. “Not like this…” Hastily Quintessa gets her robes on, silently praying to herself that she was mistaken about her intuition, that her lover did not come here with such bloody intentions, but Quintessa knows this is folly. No amount of psychological opium would make the warlock treat this situation with abandon. She had to be serious now; Karasu was in possession of the Jubaku no Kijo, an item that Quintessa could no longer reasonably predict. Both of the lovers’ lives would depend upon how well the situation could be defused today, and even then certain things could likely never be undone that had already come to pass. Exiting her office-turned-hotel suite, the changeling comes face to face with the Red Witch in the darkened halls before her threshold, her black, silken robes tied tightly to her frame. “I know why you’re here,” Quintessa says so swiftly she almost cuts Valrae off, her tone hushed so nobody could hear them without intruding. She didn’t require an explanation as to why she had come to visit her chambers during the hour of the bat, she knew why Valrae was here, Quintessa could see the frantic light in her deep green eyes. “She’s here, isn’t she?” A shake of her loose, raven hair accompanies a sigh that escapes her lips. “Tell me what you know. We must hurry.”
Behind the Barrier
Karasu grips the handle of this borrowed sword so tightly that part of her mind idly wonders if one could break their own bones in this manner. Truly, no one in this forsaken place could be trusted anymore. Everything she had been raised to believe, whether it was by Kaaname or the blind old heads, may they rest in Perdere, was a fantasy that Karasu would have never been ready to let go of. She turns and looks out to the sparring area. Though blood is rarely shed here, there is still a dark patch in the pristine white flooring that had been enchanted to soften the blows of those who fall when a spell misfires. Karasu remembered it well. One of many times she would almost kill Quintessa. It should have been the other way around; maybe then, Karasu wouldn’t have to do this. “I wonder if in another life, that could have truly been the case, that I could have been given a choice. But you chose Lanlan over me. That was your choice.” Turning back to face her former instructor, Karasu draws the Jubaku no Kijo from its sheath. The malefic energy that had been simmering before roars to life as it is unleashed. Streaks of the pure negative energy spiral out, merging with the energy of her transfused D’Chath bloodline to transition from black to the same deep ruby as her eyes. In the low candlelight of the unused room, the energy concentrates around the crown of her head, giving her the appearance of having horns like the creatures of Perdere. It is here she remembers the bits of training that the scourge of the lands Kasyr imparted on her. First she throws the sheath directly forward as a projectile, following it closely with a swing of the sword that releases a ring of fire. Without giving herself a moment to pause, Karasu’s left hand releases from the sword and goes to her hip, where she withdraws throwing knives, their runic markings visible as the light from the fire moves away from her and directly for Foreza.
Foreza knew that he was betraying her, just like so many others had. There was no enjoyment on his face as he confirmed her suspicions. “No,” he says, as he locks his intent on a gnarled quarterstaff hanging on a rack a few yards away. “I’m helping you, even if you can’t see it yet.” He lied to protect her, for her own benefit. Isn’t that right? He didn’t yet wonder if that’s how it always begins. Her appearance irks him the most, it was evident that she’s embracing some monstrous side of herself, and some mystical forces were encouraging it, feeding it, thriving on it. “This isn’t you,” he says, perhaps in consolation to himself. He’s anticipating some attack from her, and when she throws her sheath at him, he brings the quarterstaff flying off the rack between them where it bats the sheath off to the side. He catches the center of the gnarled wood and drags it down in front of him. It seems to unroll like a scroll, and a translucent blue sheet stretches before him in his wake. The ethereal parchment is filled in with etchings, lawrunes enforcing his will on the world. When the fire meets his law, the only thing to burn up is his spell, as it smolders away in a blue flame. “What do you think would happen to you if you attacked Lanlan and failed to kill him?” He draws his staff back behind him as their spells dissipate, and he thrusts his hand forward, clutching some particular spell components. The quartz chunks in his palm turn to dust and litter the ground, and from that dirt bursts a ring of enormous crystal formations. The force of being smacked by one as it emerges, was designed to bat her into a second as it emerged. And that one into a third, and that one into a fourth. Ultimately he wanted her stunned and trapped in a container of crystal, unable to hurt anyone.
Valrae nods, breathless from her short sprint down the halls of the mage’s tower. “I know little,” She admits between breaths, still tying the sash of her own night robe. Her face was bare, no dark kohl lining her too wide eyes or color painted on her frowning lips. Her features were marked in shades of worry and concern as she led the changeling down toward where Foreza had indicated he was taking Karasu. Unlike Quintessa, Valrae had no sense of the danger that awaited them. She thought that the demifeline had been a part of their small play and was hopelessly unaware that she’d come to call for blood. Instead, the witch was imagining that Karasu was injured or in some other form of distress. It wasn’t until the pair of them neared that her own hair began to stand on end. She nearly halts, her head turning toward Tessa as her face arranges into a questioning pout. “What is happening?” She asks, nearly whispering in the darkness of the halls. The witch doesn’t wait for an answer as manna rolls in waves around them. She picks up her pace, nearly sprinting again until she crosses over the threshold of the barrier and unknowingly walks straight into the middle of a battle she was poorly prepared for. The curled ends of her hair lift and snap back behind her as heat and magic pulse across her face. She lifts a hand, the other clutching her ashwand still resting at her side. “Foreza? Karasu?” Valrae calls their names, confusion dripping from the quietly spoken words.
Quintessa ‘s pale lips quivered in the darkness, her nerves not yet steeled against what they might be facing. She follows after the witch, her fists clenched so tightly that her fingernails buried themselves in her palms and broke the surface. The more she considered the mental state Karasu must be in, the more her anxiety closed in like a massive python descending on her to squeeze the breath right from her lungs. By the time Valrae turns to ask for an explanation Quintessa has already been constructing one in her head. “She isn’t herself right now, she…” The warlock’s voice is still hushed as she swiftly follows after her, her bare feet slapping the cobblestone. “The power of the Jubaku no Kijo is influencing her, a consequence of my hubris… We must convince her to surrender my weapon- it is the only way she will see reason I-” Quintessa pauses to take a deep breath before she continues, “I hope I am wrong but I cannot imagine Karasu is here for any other reason than revenge. From her perspective I am your captive and she is the Divine Reaper of Xalious here to deliver justice. We must tread carefully.” Passing through the barrier, Quintessa stiffens as her mismatched eyes fall upon Karasu and Foreza, not knowing how to intervene at this juncture. The changeling had to let her know that she was fine, that her residency in this tower was strictly voluntary. “Karasu!” Quintessa’s voice is wary and uncertain, “I’m here now- You have no reason to fight them!” It was a weak gambit, she knows, and she half expects Karasu to not trust her word at face value. A paranoid mind could come up with any excuse not to believe their own eyes, especially when the object of their ire is a powerful illusionist. Maybe she believes Quintessa has been brainwashed even, a thought that suddenly makes the warlock wish she had kept her mouth shut. She needed to focus on getting her sword back instead, which already had grown restless and listful in its true mistress’ presence. The Jubaku no Kijo wanted to be reunited with Quintessa, but it wanted to taste blood slightly more, the distraction not enough to divert the bloody desires of the magic weapon. ‘No more talk,’ it whispers, ‘I crave death.’
Karasu growls as though she were some feral animal at his proclamation that she’s not herself. She was feeling more like herself than she ever had, at least, that’s what the accursed sword was leading her to believe. In rapid succession, five runed throwing knives are hurled at the half-orc’s broad torso as he launches the crystals at the same time. Each of them are carved with lightning inscriptions, and would render even an ogre unconscious if struck. She wishes not to kill him, but to maim him so she can continue on her way to Lanlan’s office. At least, that is her intent before Quintessa and Valrae arrive. The sight of Quintessa stops her in her tracks, leaving her vulnerable to the quartz blitz. Swears fall from her lips about as elegantly as a dancing ogre in a pixie’s pottery shop as she is thrown from pillar to pillar. “ENOUGH!” Before the final crystal can be conjured to lock her in place, the spellblade dissipates into black smoke, its presence swirling and coagulating into itself instead of drifting away like smoke should. It rises, taking the silhouette of a winged and horned creature. Its presence is oppressive, radiating malevolent energy in pulses. A smokey tendril of an arm raises up, sending a powerful wave of red-violet flames at Foreza. “I have had it up to here with your disgusting illusions, Lanlan.” Karasu’s distorted voice snarls out. Two red lights appear in the smoke, bathing Quintessa alone in their light. Something inside her yearned to be by her side again, to go down there and return her sword. The anger that has been simmering for weeks is stronger, though. The lights shift to the witch at her side, and a growl rumbles across the practice battlefield turned real. “Or is this your doing, Valrae?” The arm pivots towards them, sending a second wave of flames at the two.
Foreza recoils from her monstrous growling, seeing her in a way so unfamiliar and twisted, it surprises him! And his defense is only a halfhearted one at best, but he tries. He plasters his arm against her volley of knives and a rectangular shield of light, framed by four solid silver bars, is put between them to try to catch the blades. But one slips by and it buries itself in his gut instead. He can see when she changes into a devil horned smoky form that it isn’t the Karasu he knew before, it’s something else. A monster, maybe. His defense is much more pronounced now, and he swings his wooden staff in front of him, and runic words of magic are carved into the air in front of him, each letter a ray of light, a wall against the smoke and flame. “Lanlan isn’t here, Karasu.” But he didn’t retaliate, he was determined to merely weather the storm until she tired herself out. Until she cast her fire at the other two, and became a danger to more than just himself. Then his crystals shattered, and magically arranged themselves in a geometric prison around Karasu’s smoky form. Then the light from the glowing glyphs that formed a wall of protection for him flew into one shard of crystal. From there, it reflected dozens of times, connecting all of the shards in light, and forming a box around Karasu.
Valrae doesn’t understand what she’s seeing. Her face is locked in an expression born to the marriage of confusion and horror, her dark eyes wide and her lips parting as her golden brows arch. Her head tilts back as she follows the winged, horned vision of smoke with her eyes. The witch turns to question Quintessa, but the changeling is enveloped in the strange red lights and the words die in her throat. “Lanlan?” She repeats his name as Karasu does, her brow now furrowing. The archmage was elsewhere in the tower, and even if he were not, what reason did the young spellblade have to be so wrathful? That was when it clicked. Karasu hadn’t known they’d been deceiving Caluss with Quintessa’s “death”. Sympathy speared her chest. The missing pieces fell into place, stripping her of the last of the sleepy heavy fog of her mind. It was nearly too late though, as Karasu aimed that wrath toward her and sent a terrifying burst of fire toward her. It rolled through the training room as a wave. She had only a heartbeat to pull the ashwand from the sash of her robe and murmur a counter, “Saoilleah!” She took a step forward, putting her body between the fire and Quintessa, and arced her wand from her hip to above her head. Dispelling magic unfurled from the tip of her wand, cutting through the mana and rage fed fire. The wave roared around them, parting narrowly at the last second, and the heat lifted back the golden curls of her hair. When the worst of the flames had passed them, what she saw before her was a confusing picture of prismatic magic and smoke. But she could hear Foreza speaking and her own voice rose to a pleading shout. “Karasu, please! Lanlan isn’t here, Quintessa is safe! We never meant her any harm!”
Quintessa can feel her heart sink as the oppressive waves of Karasu’s energy flow over her, a tugging sensation that beckoned her to the ground, to submit on her knees- but Quintessa would never do that. She exhales slowly, letting the energy entangle her like vines on a mighty oak tree. Suffocating but unable to bring the tree down. The changeling stands strong, steeled against such a display of malevolent energy. “I am no illusion, Karasu; I can prove it to you any way you desire. Please just…” Quintessa’s voice catches in her throat as she feels the Jubaku no Kijo’s energy intermingling with Karasu’s- that yearning to be reunited was shared between the sword and both of its known wielders. Together at last, bathed in her light… but then it moves to Valrae and an inexplicable jealousy rises within her, only diminished when that crimson gaze was cut away by Foreza’s mystical box. She remains by Valrae’s side, taking shelter behind her as the flame and death Karasu was raining down upon them was countered by the wand-wielding witch, dispersed and fizzling into steam in the air between them. With the attack dispelled, Quintessa steps forward again to assist in Valrae’s peas. “It’s true, that ambush was a ploy made with the intent to free me. Please, listen to us. No more hiding the truth. We are safe here, I promise you.”
The words of Valrae, then of Quintessa, catch the spellblade so off-guard that her smokey form fails to maneuver away. As she processes what she has just heard, the crystalline formation silently builds around her form, soon to render her immobile if she does not escape it soon. But Karasu does not move, and instead, the red spotlights just stare at the woman and the changeling as the words sink in. After an agonizing few heartbeats of silence, the apparition of Karasu twisted with borrowed magic and pure wrath tilts her head. “Didn’t I tell you? I am the only one allowed to kill you.” The entity raises what looks to be an arm, and the Jubaku no Kijo appears from the smoke, pointed at Quintessa. “Did you think that was a joke?” The sword raises itself up and the apparition lurches forward, only to hit a fragment of light that multiplies outwards from the point of impact. She lurches left, only to have the same thing happen. Karasu waited too long. Stepping out from the smoke, the demifeline looks down at them, her features twisted with rage. “You said no more lies!” She calls, banging her empty fist on the barrier. Karasu takes a breath and bangs on the transparent box again. “It was supposed to be us against the world after EVERYONE abandoned us!” She screams, her entire petite body shaking in anger. With a swing of the Jubaku no Kijo, Foreza’s protective measures are shattered, and Karasu falls to the ground flat on her feet, her sword poised at Quintessa. Whether this is the possessed sword’s doing or Karasu’s fury is no longer discernible, as there are no longer thoughts in the woman’s head. Only blind anger. “LIAR!” She screams, shooting another blast of red-violet flames at Foreza, this one being much stronger than the previous one. No sooner does the spell dissipate on her fingertips does she move her hand to her waist to draw Sagaribana. “LIAR!” Karasu screams again, smashing the whip-sword on the ground and sending the seven fragmented blades in a straight line towards Valrae. With the distractions out of the way, the Harbinger of Wrath lurches forward one final time to swing in a diagonal motion at Quintessa. Her anger and her underlying exhaustion leaves her movements off-kilter, though. Sloppy. If anyone can predict her movements and intercept, it would be her wife-to-be.
Quintessa keeps herself from flinching at Karasu’s words no matter how much they hurt. She had to be strong in this moment, strong for everyone. She shakes her head at Karasu’s question; She knows it's no joke. “I know you will. It is our destiny to die by one another’s hands.” The words come out as little more than a whisper, not really a response but an acknowledgement. They were twisted, corrupted things, both of them. Being not fit for a civilized world- but this was not a civilized world they lived in and they both still had a role to play in it. “But not today, Karasu.” Before the Sagaribana has even been drawn Quintessa is already sending energy to her crippled hand, frigid, ice-cold mana that sucks the heat from around her despite the fact that she hasn’t even cast her spell yet. Then Karasu says something that cuts through her more cleanly than the Jubaku no Kijo could ever: It was supposed to be us against the world. Quintessa recalls saying these words to Karasu many times, as far back as they were both apprentices. The emotions Quintessa had been holding at bay surged, smashing the mental dam she had created to shield herself from them. Silent tears begin to stream down her face, tears of regret, pain, and now mixed within, anger. She is angry that Karasu would throw those words back in her face like this. Ice forms on her fingertips, black and cold like the raw hatred that lingered in her core. Then, as Valrae had protected her, it was Quintessa’s turn to return the favor. The word “Liar” rings out and the changeling steps forward, nearly shoving Valrae behind her as she thrusts her left hand forward, the frigid energies lingering on her fingertips exploding as she utters the word “Rhew.” The black ice forming on her fingertips leaps forward, growing and expanding into a small barrier, as strong as steel and domed to deflect the razor-sharp blades of the segmented Sagaribana. That was all the help she could afford the Red Witch before her anger drove her headlong at her wife-to-be instead of avoiding the sword’s edge. Pivoting around the barrier of blackened ice she is met with Karasu’s lunge, and Quintessa is indeed able to pick apart the strained attack. She can see the mental and physical exhaustion written all over her body language, and the attack, a lunge performed with such a short blade leaves her overextended and exposed, which Quintessa is quick to take advantage of. She steps forward, outside of Karasu’s guard, turning sideways to make herself as thin as paper, narrowly avoiding the strike as her right hand clamps firmly down around the grip of the Jubaku no Kijo, just under Karasu’s hand. “Stop this!” Quintessa forces the tip of the blade to the ground, her frozen hand moving down to grip the collar of the feline’s cloak, pulling them closer face-to-face. The changeling’s sharp, shark-like teeth are barred as she growls out a question. “You expect me to tell the truth when this is how you react to it? I will tell a thousand more lies if that means protecting us, do you understand me? How are we supposed to conquer the world together with you acting like a rabid animal?”
Foreza's slight underbite grows more pronounced with his effort to keep the demifeline contained in the magicrystal box. The adamant walls with their orderly grid of glyphs glow in seams when previously there was one. The seams widen into gaps, and a high pitched and energetic hum escapes as the integrity of the barrier begins to falter. Foreza's doing his best to maintain its integrity, but he can see it's an inevitability. "Why would he be here, Karasu? Think! Listen to us!" He knows the words are falling on deaf ears, but he won't do more than this. The screeching hum comes to a crescendo, pulsing into an ultrasonic wave. The matrix of protection fails all at once, shattering into tiny pieces that merely fade into nothing as they touch a surface. The great effort being levied into the spell and the sudden force oh the backlash at which it breaks, stuns him. Only for a moment, the time it took him to blink and breathe. That was enough. Her fires wash over his arms, outstretched before his face for protection. A violent rage filled bellow escapes him as he quickly spins up a defense, spinning the end of his staff once. The fire burning on his arms is siphoned toward a knot on the end of his staff, where it seems to be absorbed into a funnel with a hiss. His teeth clench as he growls through them, seeing his own skin sizzle and hearing it pop. Tessa rushes forward to intercept the lunge of Karasu's blade, redirecting it to the ground. It makes such a strange, dolorous twang when it connects here, and Foreza suddenly becomes much more aware of its existence. That wasn't her usual one was it? With Quintessa's hands around it too now, it suddenly became much more familiar. His eyes shimmer solid cerulean for all of a few seconds as he confirms, glimpsing a powerfully profane aura spilling out of that blade. Karasu's aura, normally a vibrant and wild thing, was being infected by the heavy dark of the sword. "It's that damn sword! Get it away from her!" With the two of them so close together, he isn't sure what he needs to do. It might be that the best thing now is to give Tessa the chance to get the sword away from her. The energy he siphoned into his staff is now put to better use as he points it directly at the changeling. A glowing orange seed flies out of the end of the staff and seems to sink into Tessa. Tall as she is, she would begin to grow even taller. Stronger. Hopefully it would be enough.
"Oh wow, what is all this?" It's the sing -song voice of Cynica, recently returned from some excursion into town or beyond. Foreza glances behind, but there's no sign of him. He spares an almost pleading look towards Valrae. Cynica was going straight up to Lanlan's office to tell about what he saw, there was no doubt. "We have to stop this. Right now." Foreza was only too aware of the bureaucratic power Lanlan was willing to wield, unfortunately. Foreza knew (or believed he knew) that Valrae would be no happier than he to see Lanlan exact consequences as he was able upon Karasu's head. All he needs is a reason.
Valrae could feel the chill of Quintessa’s magic creeping over her still warm skin from Karasu’s flames. The opposing magics itched across her skin and had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. There was little time to think before the enraged demifeline was hurling another attack her way. It was only Tessa’s reflexes that saved her from losing some valuable part of her body to Sagaribana. She stumbled back, nearly landing on her ass, and watched uselessly as the lovers clashed. Confusion returned, along with a healthy dose of concern. ‘I’ll be the one to kill you.’ and ‘We were going to conquer the world together.’ wasn’t something she expected to hear in a lovers quarrel. If things weren’t currently already out of control and sliding further away from the realm of reasonable she might have suggested to both women they examine those things and suggest healthier ways to communicate… But who had time when they were currently trying to kill each other, and probably her, with fury and magic and swords? Foreza’s shouting brings her back to the room. The sword? The witch watches as they both struggle for Jubaku no Kijo and feels fear slap into her gut like a tightly clenched fist. She could remember the pain of its blade as if she’d tasted it only seconds before. That fear didn’t move her to further hesitation though, instead it animated her, and Valrae threw herself forward and into the struggling flurry of motion. “Karasu!” She calls her name again, “Please stop this!” But had things already gone too far? She didn’t know as she reached out to help Quintessa. She was clumsy though as she rammed her shoulder toward Kara, reaching out to try and grip the other woman’s wrist. The blade moved again in the struggle and in an instant the familiar pain of its bite rolled through her veins like the fires of Larket. A scream tore through her as she fell back. Blood bloomed red on the white of her robes, the clean mark of Jubaku no Kijo running from her wrist to the inner bend of her elbow. Though she was no longer screaming, her mind was numb and somehow wild with pain as Cynica entered and exited quickly. Foreza’s eyes met her own and she scrambled to find her feet again, cursing all the while. She damned Kara, Tessa, Foreza and herself as she stumbled toward the entrance to intercept Lanlan. “Get this under control before it gets worse!” She snaps over her shoulder, praying that Quintessa can somehow manage to soothe the worst of Karasu’s wrath before Lanlan appears.
Everything is a blur of movement for Karasu. She’s furious, she’s distraught and confused, and she wants others to hurt the way she’s hurting now. She feels the chill of Quintessa’s hands trying to get control of the Jubaku no Kijo, to take the sword she had entrusted her with away from her. Karasu puts her weight into her shoulder to try to shove Quintessa away, and yet, she can feel her grip on the sword loosening. It wants to be reunited with its true owner. It wants to leave her too! “Stop!!” Karasu snarls, turning her head down to look at the handle of the sword as her fiancee snaps at her. Quintessa’s words fall on deaf ears, too focused on regaining what she needs to exact whatever form of destruction will make her feel better. There is a glimpse of blonde hair and the scent of the sea for a moment, followed by a cry. “Stay out of this!” Karasu growls, focusing herself on getting Quintessa off of her. Was she getting taller? “I wouldn’t have to be like this if you TRUSTED ME--” Suddenly, the demifeline stops. Her grip loosens on the sword, and she stares at Quintessa with a quizzical expression. With her grip on the Jubaku no Kijo gone, the aura of horns fades, leaving only the spellblade with her normal visage. As quickly as Karasu lets go of the sword, her eyes roll back into her head. Why… did she feel something wet…? ‘It hurts…’ The thought is the first coherent one she has had since she started her rampage, and it repeats in her head louder and louder as Karasu hits the ground, until everything goes quiet.
Quintessa’s sword lavishly drinks in the negative emotions from this conflict, the fiery indignation, the cold disappointment, and the terror from the bystanders. Feelings of betrayal and vengeance poured in like wine from a chalice as they struggle for control of the weapon. Foreza’s magic gives Quintessa an edge against Karasu, her size growing taller and thinner like a spindly spider, her limbs stretching and creaking to accommodate her new form. She tugs at the blade hoping it is enough, the tip wildly rising into the air only to slam back down as Karasu defies her. The Jubaku no Kijo wants to be reunited with Quintessas but it also isn’t in a hurry, especially as a new temptation steps out of the peripherals to assist the changeling. The semi-sentient sword senses Valrae’s energy, the gift of magic in her blood, and it pivots desires. It no longer cares about this conflict between lovers, it wants what it was promised to it by virtue of being drawn in the first place; Blood. A subtle burst of mana emanates from the grip of the blade, rapid vibrations that separates both Karasu’s and Quintessa’s hands from the sword, sending it spiraling dangerously out of either of their control. The Jubaku was free now, and what does it do with this new found freedom? It lashes out against all within reach in an instant, a flash of black steel first targeting Valrae- the interloper. Blade song joins the witch’s scream as it cuts into her wrist and forearm, the blood left on the metal sucked inside of it like a sponge. Still unsatisfied, the Jubaku no Kijo continues to twirl in the air between them, too quick for any of them to react to, a blur of ebony and crimson. Next it targets Karasu, racing towards her like a rampant circular saw, wishing to inflict the very same pain upon her that she wished for others, a mirror perfectly reflecting her emotions. It strikes true, putting an end to the feline’s rebellion before turning its attention back to Quintessa. Would the Jubaku no Kijo turn against its own mistress as well? Having tasted both Valrae’s and Karasu’s blood it has become somewhat subdued and sluggish, but it still flicks backwards to swing down upon the lanky woman, her hands moving up to firmly clasp the edge of the weapon. It isn’t much of a struggle for her, Quintessa having properly been attuned to the weapon is much more easily able to mentally command it, only suffering a long cut down the center of her palms as the blade slowly falls into hibernation once more, the humming, vibrating noise that filled the room fading to silence as the changeling sinks to the floor. Quintessa stays there until somebody snaps her out of it, panting in a state of shock, not really realizing that she or anyone else is hurt yet as she mildly dissociates from the situation, staring blankly down at the now dormant weapon in her hands. She did not yet understand the implications of the Jubaku no Kijo drinking their blood like this, but she would eventually. This little experiment of hers had gotten far too out of control.
Foreza moves to stand blocking the entrance to the training room, and folds his arms. Painfully he hides his burns and looks on imperiously to the couple. Yes, he was a teacher overseeing a training session, nothing more. That's what he appears to be when Cynica arrives leading Lanlan to the place. They're both visibly disappointed. Valrae was there too, blood staining her sleeves. He regards her somewhat coldly, suspicion in his eyes. They rest on her for a tense moment until he decides that if there was something to tell him, she would. He turns back to the fight, "Magister Foreza. Is there a problem?" The orc looks back at Lanlan appearing annoyed by the interruption. The same way he usually looked when Lanlan spoke to him. But he says, "Exhibit became impassioned. Not a problem." Suddenly Lanlan becomes aware of how he must seem, like a mean old professor or a prison guard. Lanlan looks at Cynica again and sighs. The anger he feels at being put in the position to be embarrassed is only mitigated by the eyes he feels on him, whether real or imagined. "You're right Cyn," he says, "very good work mages. The very best thing we can possibly do to expand our field is to test limits, even of our bodies." He turns to leave, and Cynica does too. He's failed to impress his lifeline in this place, but whether he's learned to do so differently or do so by doubling down cannot be known.
Foreza maintains his position as overseer even after Lanlan leaves, and now no longer pretending. "Quintessa. If that sword is a problem, you need to take care of it. Both of you. You may be the youngest magisters we've ever had. Act like it. Not children. Not anymore." He regards them both with some disappointment, but he has some for himself as well. As protector of the Mage's Guild, the safety of everyone is his responsibility. He compromised himself for Karasu. And in doing so, did he compromise mission? Then he leaves then too, unable to talk anymore about it, and eager to create distance.
The consequences of allowing this transgression, he knew, would be all of theirs to keep.