RP:Into the Tower of Tedium

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Synopsis: Lanlan and Ina abuse their stolen Mage's Guild privileges to burgle several items of questionable value from a hidden magical tower, entering through a doorway hidden in the sublime master's office.

The Sublime Master's Office

He knew it was temporary. The arch mage would be recalled to life and this office door would close once again. Lanlan might even be punished! It wouldn't matter anymore by that point. He still had time to bask. To make himself at home. He floated around in a hovering chair that instantly conformed to the whims of Lanlan's body, providing personalized support and cushion. He was comfortable and alert at the same time. He tossed around baubles and things that listed 9 the desk like paperweights. Like they were paperweights! And not what Lanlan thought they were, some type of power contained in a corporeal form and sealed by a mystery. And inside the desk, treatises on so particular a topic, they provided solutions to problems you'd only ever encounter after a lifetime of dedicated study and specialization. Worthless. None of it was any use. No, he didn't take advantage of this office like that. He was just -owning-it. Blowing his smoky breath up toward a ceiling covered in geometric figures that must've answered questions he couldn't imagine. Why? How? The answer was up there. Just not for Lanlan. Not today. Unless... It was. He was looking for something. But maybe he needed help finding it. He needed his secret weapon. "Trish! Trish where are you and why aren't you in here."

Ina isn't -too- far, realistically- but she's not quite herself either. Part of it, no doubt, was the simple fact that she was playing the role of Aya- Lanlan's tanned, rural Foxkin Apprentice- freshly drawn into the waiting arms of the Mage guild. And yet, not all of her awe was feigned- She really did feel a sense of childlike wonder at the myriad applications of arcane prowess that were just so ...day-to-day in the tower. It was enough, in fact, that her attempts at suppressing manic giggles became more akin to awkward hiccups- which continued all the way until Lanlan cozied himself within the Sublime Masters office. This.. -This-...was a different sort of treat. Power, haphazardly stolen, had a certain intoxicating element to it- and she couldn't help but find herself eyeing the Boss as he audaciously settled into that seat. There's a lot of mischief you could get into in a place like this. "Mmf." No bad, Ina. Professionalism first. So, yes- Ina's around, just in the hallway- doing her best to get her mind focused on larceny, and not. "Trish!" Well, it is flattering to be needed. But, as much as there's an appeal to further demeaning an illgained office of authority. "Why aren't you in here?" Well, if he insists. The foxkin spins in a circle, her arms going wide in the ethereal robes that Lanlan had illusioned onto her, if only to gently nudge her head into the office, "I mean, 'm willin' ta take orders while you're in the chair, boss-man, but ja could ask nicer." There's a pause, the fox sizing him up one more time, "Though I don't entirely mind." Game face damnit. "Anyways, what's tha' fire. I was jus' going over tha' list of things that might fetch a price." Mostly because it's like a more thief oriented way of counting to 10.

"No fire, no fire," says Lanlan, softening to her presence. "But..." He didn't know where to begin. This office was cluttered with trophies, or baubles, or components to projects only started. "I need you with me. Try to focus." Taking his own advice, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, exhaling slow and even. As he breathes out, ethereal lavender ribbons bloom from his core and float away from him. Away, away, away until they lay on the floor and ceiling and walls. "I can't find it. It wasn't in the restricted section... It's in here. There's a key in this room. Hidden in the details, hidden in plain sight, or just beneath the surface! I can feel it." He opens his eyes. "I don't know what to do. I need your help, Trish. Oh!" This time he caught himself. "I mean Aya! Sorry, you remind me of my other fox friend." Yes... Good cover.

Ina finds it honestly a bit disarming when Lanlan falters, and uses that brief intermission to step further into the office. At least, until he mentions needing her, at about which point she briefly freezes up- only recovering when he mentions the need to focus. Weirdly relieved, she promptly rocks back on her heels, essentially leaning into the door to discreetly shut it. Not that she recovers from this tilted position before she follows her Boss' lead, and shuts her eyes. "So, is this like a meditation thing." It seems like a meditation thing. Shut your eyes. Focus. Breathe. Feel your limbs go Numb. Picture the Ocean. Something Something Something. "I'm not very -good- at that." One eye crops open to peek, only to abruptly shut again when Lanlan opens his. Admittedly, this was all fairly frustrating. But, maybe it was just because she was trying to follow things as they'd been laid out. And- why should see? What were they looking for? Clearly- something different from the obvious treasures. All around her laid the obvious scent of worn leather, and paper- things that felt right at home in a personal library. And so too, was there the scent of tobacco from Lanlan's earlier celebrations- something which helps to provide the office with a more lived-in feeling.

And yet, beneath it all- something less pleasant lingered- For there also resided a sickly scent. A sort of noxious and foreboding odor that had at one point been buried beneath long extinguished incense, and which had, in time, begun to re-emerge. The foxkin doesn't even open her eyes as she trails after it, her fingers tracing over the shelves in a fluid motion, like a piano player at work.

It's only after a few moments of this that she'd finally halt, her path having drawn her over towards a book on the Tribal differences between Lithrydelian Lycanthropes, "Here? Somethin's off." She finally takes in a proper look of the room- including the fact that she'd upended a number of books onto the floor, before she tilts her attention back towards Lanlan, lithe digits moving to hook around his collar, "Well, All ya had ta' do was ask. Get over 'ere, then." She might have enjoyed that a bit too much- but provided he's amenable, she does her best to guide him over- if only so she can gesture his sublime signet over towards the tome She'd discover. This sort of thing works. Sometimes. If not, it'd be Plan B- Violent excavations. But, first things first. "Oh- n' m sure your friend would find it right flatterin' ya couldn't get 'er outta your head. But business first."

Lanlan was becoming more amenable to letting Trish have her fun if she was working. Not that he could ever tell when was working or playing, it all blended in. This time when she tells him to move, he abruptly becomes mere inches away. "This? Why would anyone care about lycans." Then it clicks. "Why would anyone care about lycans." He gives the book a studious look and drags his fingers across the cover. "Look at me," he says as he grabs her hand in his. Then he moves her hand across the vellum just like he did a second ago. "Feel that? Smooth. But looking at the book, we can see the title is embedded." With more effort than it appears, he pinches a transparent but refractory membrane, and tugs on the facade like it was dead skin. The ethereal substance clings and stretches, until it's tendons fall slack and release. The illusion dissipates. "You're a real sphinx, you know that, right Trish," he says in praise, comparing her to a creature of genius and mystery. Now the book is a blank journal, with blank pages other than a letter of the alphabet appearing in ascending order in the top margin. "Can't hide anymore," says Lanlan to the book as he flips through the pages. He settles on two. They look like the others, but it's not random. The pages were ever so sightly yellowed, and the binding here was stressed. It's gotten more exposure. It was the only thing on the page, the letter 'o'. He touches it with a finger, and as he hoped, something unexpected happens. His finger goes through it. And under it and around it. He pulls it up, and seams appear, and it becomes a cover, a lid. Inside? A small cylinder with a lens. "Ah! So this will reveal the true nature of things." He pulls the lens to an eye and scopes out the room. "Is that you!? I wonder what I look like through this thing." He swings his vision too the mirror. And he disappears.

Ina supposes that, in a sense, this was her first proper lesson on magic. Whilst she had a cursory understanding of illusions, from the threadbare bits she could muster as a foxkin- there was something altogether different about being literally guided through the failings of an otherwise artful illusion. Of feeling the difference between what her eyes perceived, and what her tactile senses were telling her. "...So, this sorta detail what sets apart an illusionist from someone jus' castin' an illusion then? Or was that intentional, ja think?" She squeezes his hand, ostenibly to elicit a response, before she gingerly extricates her fingers to allow him the next act of his party trick. And frankly, it -is- fascinating to watch him peel away the books arcane binding. In fact, she can't help but find herself keenly interested in what part of the lie gives way first, as the illusion is distorted. Though, not even fascination can get in the way of a well earned preen when she's complimented, "Well. I got the advantage of learnin' from tha' best." Ego fluffing aside, however- there was more magic to muddle through, and Lan at least had this part well in hand. Which meant, she was free to just scoot a few paces to the side and into the chair she'd plucked Lan from. This part was his forte, after all, so, he'd just have to deal with her idle thoughts, "So- what's the escape plan, after this? Yours- I mean. Since, well, you mentioned our colleague is not exactly ...popular people. And, while I got Aya to hide behind. Well, ...I mean. It was pretty ballsy to sign yer name on stuff, Boss-man. So, i was curious ... "Clack. The cylinder hits the floor and rolls for a few paces, now sans a Lan to hold it. "what the ..." She stares at the thing for a few long moments, squinting first at it, then the empty air. "...plan was. ...If this is you sayin' you don't have tha' time- ja coulda jus' said so. Rude!" ...She leans forward, a hand wriggling through the air in the spot he occupied in case there were illusiary shenanigans involved. "..Or. Not? ...Y'okay?" There's a slight edge she can't keep out of her voice, a hint of anxiety from just how abruptly things changed. Was it a booby trap, or something else? What would happen if she did the same thing? Bad things. Probably. But before she can even stop herself, the cylinders' in her hand, and she's staring down the multi-coloured mess of a lens to peer at the room.

A moment later, and the cylinder drops to the floor of the now empty office.

"My dear Trish! Only Ernest should worry. His crime is atrocious," Lanlan says to no one. He's not there anymore. For a few seconds, he's nowhere. Then he turns around and Ina is nowhere too. "Oh Trish! Look where we are!" And he does too. It's a place of pure, magical, windless night. Above and below and all around is the void, but it's flourishing with shining stars. Lanlan reaches tenderly to caress one, but it's just beyond what he can touch. Still, he's jubilant. The best of all and most terrible is the moon. Unadulterated by a cloud and more near than ever, but so visibly scarred. "You see what that wretched man has done, Trish," he says twisting his face in disgust at the act. "We have to do something about it, haven't we? Yes! Then we shall." And he embarks on foot with an energetic pace, a black cane sliding impossibly out of his sleeve. He pauses only for a moment to notice it's burning graphic with disdain. Then he resumes and the burning picture on his cane is replaced by Swift shooting stars. Now they walk a path, one of seven. Hardly chosen, though certainly he committed. And it's a path paved in crushed diamonds, brilliantly sparkling. The only thing protecting them from the infinity that surrounds them. "Isn't it brilliant that we have found this place! And I don't think anyone could've found it as quickly as we have," he muses. "But look! Our hope lies ahead of us," he says motioning to a large structure small in the distance.

Ina blinks owlishly when Lanlan addresses her, needing a few moments to dispel the weird sense of concern that had begun to build up in her chest. It was only once she felt it was suitably under control, that she began glancing about the area as the mage had prompted her to. And frankly, it's a good thing she's not scared of heights, since there's something uncanny about peering down at the ground, only to see it span out infinitesimally. "Gross. S'glass?" She skootches back a few paces from Lanlan, as though it might somehow aid in the distribution of their weight. "...Wait. Stars above and bel- Oooo." So, it's magic, "Nevermind. ...So, this like... some fancy way of Star-gazin' , while still being a pasty nerd?" After all, if this was an expression of Lanlan's Prowess, he'd have taken credit for the show. As it stands, he was simply criticizing the most prominent of the celestial bodies. Which, fair- there was just something about it that gave her the heebie jeebies- and it wasn't the writing. Frankly, all the stuff related to Hal was a bit above her paygrade, beyond what Lan had rambled about. "Uh, yeah. But, what? ...Sell Photos of pre-scarred moon stuff for even more gold, or?"

Honestly, she wasn't sure if this was performative practice for a later speech, or a genuine kernel of concern for what had been, she supposed, another iconic symbol associated with the mage guild. And frankly, Lan was moving so she didn't think too hard on it. She simply hustled after him, slipping her newly-acquired Xalious staff off her back- using it to prod at the ground in order to ensure the surety of her steps. "So, think anything would happen if I anything happened to those stars?" She might be asking this because she paused, for a moment during his musings and proceeded to prod at a star that had been out of reach from Lanlan. ...Specifically by using her Xalious staff to extend her reach. And- well, it had then turned into a shooting star that proceeded to fall off into the infinite abyss. It's fine. "Like- long term? Or." You know what, she's just going to hustle ahead- they have a path to follow, and that particular scent that had led her to that same book was growing all the stronger.

"Actually, it's fine." Her pace quickens, helping to ensure there's as much distance between herself and her celestial mishap. Honestly, it's to a sort of disarming degree, her simple desire to get -away- serving to somehow expedite her path to the ...tower? To say it was large would be an understatement- but it's not simply it's size that's disarming. There's a sort of ethereal beauty to it's carved rock- as it provides a combination of imposing stone craft intermingled with the ethereal beauty of faerie fire and bioluminescent fungi. Gorgeous- and yet, weirdly out of place. "Wow. That's Gothy as Fu-"

Lanlan strangely isn’t bothered in the least by the curious design and physics of this place. In fact, it could even be the opposite. He’s at home here. “Diamonds, not glass,” he mutters. Not that he deigned to inspect them. “No this is the Sage’s Court. Where they...so actually, yes you’re right...And the rewards for restoring the moon would be exquisitely desirable for us...I have no doubt.” As they near the castle, he’s become aware of the conflux of selves that seems to have arrived at the same time. Six other pairs of people walking different paths, arrive at a different side to this place, a smooth tower with no windows or doors or cracks. Though the other delvers can be seen, they cannot be touched. Nor can their identities be confirmed, yet Lanlan has an inkling. But what does it mean? Different outcomes for different choices? What if they chose wrong? What if- "Welcome, Sublime Master. Welcome to the Sa-” interrupts a strange being with an ethereal whisper. It’s a floating thing wrapped in cobalt colored cloth, and then further wrapped in chains. Within a hood there is only shadow, except for two bright yellow globes. At the end of a long arching stick, it holds a lamp, of a kind. It’s caged darkness, but for a burning silver sliver within the unfathomable depths of the contained shadow. “Sage’s court, I know,” Lanlan interrupts back. “Do you know what you seek?” “A book by the late Minerva Drake.” “Is that all?” Lanlan hesitates to answer. “I...don’t remember. Ina?” Whatever she says, the lighthouse keeper is satisfied. “I see you have the key. Remember to mind the cost. It is great.” “We will.”

Seams appear on the sheer face of the tower, and an amount of stone in the shape of a door simply gradually disappears, seeming to singe and burn away like paper. Similarly, another seam has opened in the middle of Lanlan’s forehead. A curious eye peers from behind it. Not the first time! Though it has certainly never been so alert. While it wasn’t possible to be seen from the outside, and they know they enter at the bottom floor, they inevitably discover a staircase coiling around a central column. It seems to lead as infinitely up as it descends unfathomably lower. As before, Lanlan seems to know instinctively where to go. He goes down, and energetically. Blissfully unaware of the doors and pedestals he passes along the way. Yet behind every door, bestowed to every display, must a treasure be contained. Were it not for the strange effect of this place upon him, Lanlan could easily become lost in wonder and discovery and grandeur.

Ina wants to press Lanlan more about whatever future lunacy he may have planned- but supposes they do have more important matters at hand. For instance, it's her turn to look this place. She waves a hand at the ethereal entity as though it was a necessary part of garnering it's attention, before she starts rapidly rattling off, "So, I want a pizza, a bag of holding, The secret of that flying Metal Stuff, and uh-" She pauses, and begins to reach beneath her illusiary clothes, to her actual pockets- seaarching the small notes she'd made with Lanlan during their earlier travels. Which is distracting, sure- but not enough that she fails to notice the way their phantasmal receptionists' gaze shifts from a to a more threatening purple color. "Unauthorized access." It's lantern on a stick is gestured threatening towards Ina, alongside a far harsher intonation of, "Leave at once, Intruder."

Ina takes one good look at this situation, and -immediately- reaches a hand over towards Lanlan, once more taking holding of him. Or rather, around the symbol of 'his' office as Sublime Master. "That was a test. Just a test. And ja passed." It hovers there for a few quiet moments, as though processing this revelation, before it's gaze reverts to that bright yellow color from before. "Of course, Sublime Master." There's an awkward moment, the magical construct glancing between Ina and Lanlan as it says this- as though some bit of arcane logic is having difficulty parsing their currently 'shared' position. Ina, however, doesn't give it to long to process this- as she sucessfully retrieves the list she'd made. "Uh- There's a tablet for magic metal, Delirium? Elerium? We'll need that. Also, That Necronomnomicon. Tha' Dead Book thing. That too. ...I guess the pizza was too much- but, a bag a' holdin' would be 'ppreciated. Aaaaand- if ya got a book or two on enchantin', preferably involving the practice of weapon and armor forgin'- ja can tack that on the list."

And with that, they'd be all set to go with that whole dramatic descent into the tower- now forearmed with the intuitive knowledge that the tower would bestow upon them. Only. Well, Ina wasn't -quite- done. "Oh, And uh. Do me a favor- the next time tha' Sublime Master or the Archmage fella' comes round here. Can ja let them know they can contact Ernest Crane Ta' - An, I quote." Here she does her absolute best impression she can muster of the mage she'd met during her 'induction' ceremony. "Fer Tha' proper retrieval of any recently rented items. Looking forward to negotiations." She clears her throats, as though trying to rid herself of that imitiation, before thinking again and adding a "Yeehaw." Okay, now she was ready to properly follow after Lanlan.

Though- that's not to say it'd be an uninterrupted journey. After all- she -would- need to stop him a couple times.

Such as early on, when they encountered a room containing the non-descript bag she was seeking. Bags of holding were -always- useful- and often-times, they were full fo treasures from their previous owners. . . . Maybe not this time, though- unless you were interested in hair samples and toenail clippings from arcane critters. "Gross. Let's just." Yeah- she literally just upends the bag, effectively forcing herself and Lanlan back out onto the stairwell as the room becomes partially immersed in a sea of bodily Detritus.

In any case, this does mean she has an empty sack to scoop up...the stone tablets they were led to. ...Plural. Weird. "Pretty sure I only asked fer tha' one. Whateva'." That's the small stuff out of the way, though. Now all that was left was the books- and it seemed more than likely they were apt to all be in the same place.

Lanlan is all but ignoring Ina while she lists her fancies. Not on purpose, but his senses are simply overwhelmed. He’s seeing too much. But one thing he can’t ignore, is the bundle of blankets getting uptight with his comrade. He whips around, close to a fury, “Who do you think you are to talk to her in such an insolent manner? I should have you undone. Your essence scattered, rags torn. And your little lamp smashed.” A bluff, Lanlan couldn’t even conceive of what makes this thing or what power it might have. But it did work under his authority. For now. “This noble creature is as much Sublime Master as I am,” says Lanlan, ultimately telling the truth, “and she will be treated as such.” “As is your request, my apologies.” Lanlan doesn’t deign to respond, or can’t avoid his fixation any longer. He descends. And as he does, awareness of anything other than his objective fades. “Trish,” he says curtly. “I’ll be -right- there.” And then he isn’t. He was down stories. Passing through doors and atriums of plain ivory and brown. At some point he stopped walking, and started hovering, jetting inches above the ground . Until he finds it, the nondescript door, on a landing like any other. A room, empty! Except for a single display case, with a single book. He doesn’t have to confirm. He knows what it is. It’s in his pocket and out the door before he can even leave an impression he was there. But as the gate to the display case slides to a close, a long thin, silvery strand of hair floats down and settles into the display case. It closes and shimmers. He got what he came for. As far as he knew, it cost him nothing.

And now that he had it, his intense, unwavering fixation began to fade. And he now stood in a monotonous structure, where he soon realized, everything looked exactly the same. He was still amped, but now he was aimless. He barged through door after door after door, until he came back to the one just outside of where he found Minerva Drake’s book. His nostrils flare and he sighs in frustration. “I have to find Trish,” he says to himself, hoping to summon the knowledge like he did with the book. It doesn’t work. “Then. She was looking for the book of the dead. I can find it.” When that doesn’t conjure up any directives, he’s crestfallen. “...Pizza?” Nothing. “She should’ve stayed with me,” he says callously, and begins to conjure up the magic within the sublime master’s amulet to bring him home. The lamen spits forth arcane energy and a portal opens. He can see the tower, the decrepit Xalious tree, before the view zooms into the sublime master’s office. He considers her one last time. Then steps through. The magic holding the portal open wanes and the doorway begins to shrink and sputter out, volatile whips of energy lashing against the floor and walls. He watches it shrivel up in the cozy yet cluttered office, and even takes a seat. He puts the prize on the desk, the book, the reason for being here at all. And then an instant before the portal closes, he dives back through. “Delirium tablet!”

Ina is, perhaps, lost. Not that it's her fault- nor even that of her companion. The tower was obviously to blame at this juncture- having coaxed her into ascending the stairs, even while Lanlan dipped further into it's recesses. It was a -temporary- setback, really. They were bound to reconvene once she'd found. "Well.Hrm." The room she'd found herself drawn to was not really the bookish sort- ultimately. All around her, weird bits of arcane paraphenalia stood- like partially mummified skulls which seemed to follow her every movement, and bits of blackened flame, which gloomily burned with crystalline matrixes. "Now some mook just needs ta' pop out and say he's got a deck of Tarot cards to sell me." The subtle scent of incense does nothing to dissuade this sentiment either- though, if she were more magically learned, she'd perhaps recognize that some of th esoreric scrawlings that were visible upon chalkboards, nearby scrolls, and even the walls are rather complex finds- half finished theorems, and experimental schematics for Phylacteries, observations on tainted elementals . . . and a rather nasty array of curses. That said- what does finally catch her eye, is the clothed lump stashed away in a corner of the room. Once unveiled, it reveals a suitably macabre book bound in something that seems to be flesh. Which, honestly- seems edgy enough to be what she was searching for. And sure, there's a moment there where it looks like it's about to wriggle and contort- but frankly, she's not even going to think twice about it. Rather then check the contents and risk death curses or other nonsense, she just immediately stuffs it into 'her' bag of holding- leaving those potential side effects to whatever discerning buyer they find.

You know, provided it isn't a horrible counterfeit that's essentially a mimic made out of protoflesh. From there, she carries on her merry way, finally winding up in- well. Okay, her incredibly vague instructions as to a book on magical forging -probably- could have been better, but she's -hoping- 'Ensouled Steel' by Yamanato Silverleaf is more of an informative text then some sort of harlequin novel. Then again - "Now where's that spooky pile of Laundry when a girl needs new readin' material. There's gotta be some juicy diaries in here. Somethin' Sor-" It's about this point Lanlan bursts in- because, of course he has to. She's carrying around the macguffin he's seeking. That said, she wasn't quite expecting the abruptness of that appearance, even if she was hoping to bump into him- so she can't help the startled expression on her face, nor the abrupt manner her arms come up. And yet, she's pretty quick to immediately play it off for laughs, falling into an overdramatic swoon, "Oh, my hero!" There's a pause, and she might reach an arm out to catch herself on the wall just in case he doesn't. "... There's an exit, right? Because this tower sucks."

After unquantified passges, stairs, and a tedious amount of doorways, Lanlan has yet to be surprised. Not one single time. The only reason Lanlan knew how to get -anywhere- in here, is because...he already did. He would never figure it out before dying of natural causes. And presumably, the only reason he was gifted with this foresight, was that he was the sublime master. So Ina was doomed. Finally he finds the door containing the delirium tablet, whatever that is. But he doesn't open it. Not before composing himself. Triumphantly, he enters and happily exclaims, "Trish!" before catching her in his arms. An unexpected instinct. "Ugh," he says as he pushes her to her feet. "Why'd you make me do that." He's more confused by his action than annoyed with hers. And perhaps splintered by a tiny sliver of embarrassment. But he dusts himself clean of any debris, real or imagined, that comes from person to person contact. Then he truly gets to notice this room. This vile, death filled room. "Yes, I have the exit, and we'd better be quick. I can already feel myself becoming saturated in the humid stench." Once again, he engages the ornament of his position. But this time, he waits for Ina before going through the magical doorway.

On the other side of the portal in the Sublime Master's office, Lanlan stairs with a foggy look in his eyes. The third one closes without a sound. "Ah! That's what I was doing," he says as he picks up the kaleidoscope he used to find the doorway to the secret tower. He scrutinizes it for a few seconds, but can't seem to muster any insight. "I know the key is in here. It must be, I can feel it! But...I need to rest." He sits down in the comfiest chair. And instantly falls asleep.

Ina's certainly happy to take up Lanlan's offer of an exit- she'd worked up an appetite, after all, and never found a sorcerous slice of pizza to pocket. That said- whilst the idea of getting a snack certainly appeals, the manner in which Lanlan promptly succumbs to his exhaustion puts that on the backburner. Instead- she simply decides now would be a good time to extricate the elf, albeit with the same sort of jurry rigged feather fall potion she used on Yuu. Really, all it takes is a glug, and she has an easy time of hefting her partner in crime about. Making sure that she tucks his Kaleidoscope in one of his pockets- she promptly makes her way over towards one of the tower windows overlooking Xalious. ...And then shoves Lanlan's slumbering form out of it. There's a second where it seems to gather momentum, a side effect of the slipshod nature of the potion- and then he promptly gains the proper degree of buoyancy the potion was supposed to afford him. From there, Ina simply executes part 2 of her plan. Which is following out the window after Lan- albeit, after shape changing into an overtly large raven. Enough so that she can afford sparing one claw for her clothes, and another for Lan. Best to bring sleeping beauty -back- to his headquarters, and away from the place they'd been causing a stir in recent time. That'll take time though- so, may as well try and subconsciously influence Lan to make the right choices in upcoming days, "Repeat after Me. Ernest made me do it. Ernest Crane hexed me. I'm Innocent. Okay, Maybe I framed that one guy- but everything else, I was hexed." Man, this'll be the most rock solid alibi- and he gets to learn it all in his sleep. Maybe. Unless that book on how to learn in your sleep was garbage.