RP:Larketian Visitation Rights

From HollowWiki

Part of the You Must Have Been Human Arc

Part of the Lies Within Us Arc


This is a Mage's Guild RP.



Summary: Karasu infiltrates a makeshift Larketian prison cell to interrogate the wounded Kasyr. Kasyr learns the truth behind Karasu's disappearance, and Karasu becomes content with the realization that if any conspiracy had gone down, her former instructor was not involved. She drops off a modified runic crystal with details regarding a meeting that could decide Kasyr's fate in Larket's hands.


Somewhere in Kelay Village

The Kingsguard of Larket have for nearly two weeks themselves on a most boring assignment in Kelay, guarding some political prisoners in the old house. The wind howls outside, rattling the old windows of the neutral region’s landmark. Just dozens of yards away at the ground-level, Karasu exits the hidden doorway of the Syndicate hideout. Despite what Quintessa had assured otherwise, the paranoid theory still reigned in her mind. A bolt of lightning illuminates the night sky, signaling an encroaching summer storm. Rather than the feline, a guardsman slips out from the alleyway and calmly ascends the staircase. “Shift-change.” She says dismissively to the guard propped in a single wooden chair, engrossed in a novel. “Ah, already? The time really flew by.” Karasu nods with a smile. “Aye. If you need to grab anything, you should go across to the shop before the downpour starts.” Her eyes flicker from him, to the multiple doors. “Say, which one is the fake-vampire in?” The half-feline slips into the room, giving a small sigh of relief at her disguise holding up. Allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark, she looks over at the form rising and falling softly on the bed. "Kasyr." Karasu whispers from the closed door. Her heart pounding in her chest, she slips over to the bed. "Kasyr..." She tries again, a bit louder. A sigh escapes her lips as she brushes some of the blond locks out of the Kensai's sleeping face. Her face leans in until she's nearly touching his. There is a long moment of silence before she finally says, "HEY ASSHOLE, WAKE UP." The feline straightens up, crossing her armored gloves over her chest and resuming her Larketian guard disguise.

Kasyr's stay at the renovated Hotel had asofar managed to be uneventful- as the attention of Larket's crown had drifted elsewhere. Quintessa, after all, was no longer present- set free under the auspices of peace, and a somewhat more violent mission guiding her action. Really, with the changeling gone, the Kensai had perversely expected his living conditions to change, or some fascimile of tighter security to arrive- and yet, there was no hint of anti-magic to be felt in the area, or increased guard patterns yet. Just the same cyclical cycle of the food the renovated Inn had to offer, and the occasional game of cards with Roald & Wendell when they were present. Frankly, it also meant he was bored to tears more often than not- the sort of complete ennuie that lead to the deepest of sleeps. Which is probably why the Kensai practically bolts up when he hears the shout, sprawling out of the bed in a heap of sheets. It's a groggy, ungainly motion- but by the gods, he's at least managed to arm himself with... well, "...Merde. I'm going to have to pay for this chair leg, aren't I?" ...Rapid fire alibi. It was like this when they got here. He'd just propped it up on the broken chair leg. Right. Why did he even break the chair? He can summon swords. ".. I'm awake." Arguably. His brains still catching up. "Je vous promets. Just. . ." And why does this guard feel awfully familiar. To the Kasyr's credit, whilst he's certainly got bags under his eyes, and a -very- sickly appearance to boot- it doesn't actually seem to be courtesy of his preferred poison- as he lacks the telltale unsteadiness or booze-y perfume that has long since clung to him. It's been replaced by something closer to the scent of fever, mingling with some other sickly sweet aroma. "..." He's also squinting a bit, though that seems to be more him trying to get his bearing on his current guardsman, than anything empirically off with him.

The guard passes a gloved hand over his chin, as if studying the Kensai’s movements as he ever so gracefully springs from the bed. The distinct lack of alcohol and the stink of illness does not go unnoticed by the disguised spellblade. A snap of the fingers, and a series of lanterns above the bed are lit with a simple fire cantrip. Remaining posed at the other side of the bed, a deep voice rumbles. “Due to recent events, the Queen has requested that I conduct an interrogation with you regarding your relations to the treasonous Mage's Guild members. Anything you say can and will be held against you in the High Courts.” He recites as if reading off a script. Then the shoulders drop, along with part of the facade. “Apologies, but this cannot wait until sunrise.” The guard rounds the bed to assist the Kensai to his feet. In a show of mild kindness, a glass of water is poured for the poor man from a pitcher on the dresser across. “We’re not paying for that chair.” He comments idly as he does so, before moving to the foot of the bed. The interrogation begins as dull as one can imagine. Name. Age. Legal race. Marital status. Occupation. Number of bottles of alcohol consumed within the last 482 hours. Number of near-death experiences. “Look, I’m not the one making up the questions.” The disguised Karasu holds up her hands defensively. The deep voice clears itself. For just a hair of a second, Kasyr might just see a glimpse of a tug at the corner of the man’s lips. “Describe how you came to be employed at the Mage’s Guild. Who did you work with?”

Kasyr let's out a long exhale upon the distinct realisation that there's no real murderous intent to be found here- something which has him slumping against the wall to begin trying to fiddle the chairleg back into a fascimile of 'connected'. Really, it's not going all that great, but it at least gives him something to do while the 'guard' begins to rattle off queries. "Kasyr Azakhaer. 2...With vampire years? Or? We'll say with. 2 . . 8." Probably. That seems about right. "Human, much to the relieved sighs of people everywhere, j'imagine." The question of his maritial status briefly clouds his expression, but he manages to muster up a response after a few moments, both serving to ground himself and find the right words. "Estranged. Bodyguard, sellsword et Veneficus at the mages academy. I also own a few small businesses in Vailkrin." Well, technically, Ginger owned them- but the swamp pixie had been courteous enough to leave behind the documentation needed to take control of those businesses once Kuzial had killed them. Admittedly, the Kensai's a -lot- more stumped by the ensuing pair of questions, which leads to a pair of slow blinks on his part- a gesture which seems right at home with his more cattish features. "...We'll just say the last 482 days was one long near death hangover, et leave it at that." It's easier than trying to count, especially when you factor in the calamities the Kensai finds himself front and center in. Still, these bit of questioning does seem to serve an additional purpose- as it begins to properly anchor the swordsman into a state of wakefulness, one which allows his empathic senses to begin properly settling on the figure before him. It had been recent that he'd met this figure- but it wasn't part of Josleen's entourage, that much seemed correct. "Magister Daath sought me out, in order to help head the push towards having a proper spellblade initiative at the academy, given the relative lack of a curriculum geared on that front until recently. Considering the timing of the event, I'm unsure if it was a genuine attempt at expanding the guilds curriculum, or a means of ensuring that I found myself engaged in the conflict with the ..uh. Those stupid lizards? . . . The ones that killed themselves because we were winning, en fait."The words are callous, and almost uncaring, but they belie a deeper bitterness courtesy of what the final conflict had cost. "Once in the academy, I did not particularily work with many of the others, as Daath retreated into his studies for. . . "Reasons that likely included his wife's affair, and an exit strategy meant to avoid the imminent assassination attempt that came all but guaranteed with drow Divorces. "scholarly reasons? ...Probably. Other than that, I'd briefly helped Odhranos with his research project, and asked for his own aid with one I have in the works." Tessa came to mind, but- the question seemed more aimed towards the faculty than anything.

As Kasyr rattles off his answers and begins his ascent to wakefulness, the half-feline idly scans the room for any traces of personal effects. A deck of cards, some books. Nothing that particularly screams ‘co-conspirator to a conspiracy’. “Hmm.” Karasu attempts to keep her conversation regarding his answers vague and noncommittal. “Heard about those creepy lizards. Glad you folks wiped them out. It would have been troublesome for our patrol to have to go down there.” Sharp eyes stay fixed on the Kasyr as she makes the idle comment. The way his eyes stay fixed on her as well, it was slowly dawning on her that he was regarding her with suspicion, but not the kind that one would hold towards a member of enemy forces. To Kasyr’s eyes, the man gives a quiet grunt before pulling a chest of fabrics into the center of the room and sitting back on it. Iron clinks against itself as the armored hands clasp together. “Interesting. That’s two members. What about the others? Administrator Brenwyn. Foreza. The one with the weird offshore Rynvalian name,” The guard snaps his fingers as if trying to remember. “Ah. Kaaname, I think. The one with the missing kid. The Spellblade Corps lady that was here with you. And uh, what’s his name, Dyraxdiin. Hosted the Celestial Ball last year, right? My kid loves the fair you guys have.” The half-feline lies through her teeth as her eyes stay trained on his features to see how he reacts to the lineup of names. “From what I heard being discussed, it was kind of strange that both Magisters would up and leave at the same time, especially one that had just taken on two -kid- apprentices.” She puts emphasis on the word as if to make some kind of unspoken point. “It’s weird, huh? Now no one knows where that guy is, but you happened to be hired as his replacement before the Guild’s registry listed him as being on hiatus.” Karasu leans forward. In her excitement to see if her conspiracy was anywhere near to being true, the thin gold chain slides out from beneath the suit of armor. A garnet heart accompanies it, one that the Kensai would not have ever seen on the spellblade. The piece of jewelry is just odd enough that it seems to contrast the rest of the guard’s appearance.

Kasyr may be on the cusp of suspecting that somethings amiss, but that doesn't mean he can't focus some attention for some good old fashioned retorts, for the good ol' 'Hard City'. "Well, I suppose Larket would have more prior experience with wholesale murder, n'est ce pas? I'm sure you could have given us all sorts of pointers on how to dig a mass grave." The worst part of that barbed comment is the manner in which the Kensai manages to keep an entirely straight face. "That said, I can understand why Larket was slow to move. Got to get through all that lumber before the rainy season makes it harder to light a bonfire." The smile that Kasyr gives with that remark never quite reaches his eyes, a caustic edge added to the otherwise 'good-humoured' comment. At this point, the nature of the interrogation was feeling distinctly off- if only because of the brusqueness of it all. Larket as a government cerrtainly had time to take a more subtle approach- whether it was the opportunity to tamper with his food, with the water- to try and ply him with more drink, or even earn answers through pleasentries and card games. As much as Kasyr was continuing to play along, he'd reached a certainty. This individual was part of another faction- though whether it existed as some offshoot of the main government, or another organization entirely was something that was harder to place. What was more . . . "...You were at the tourney." He'd said it- and it felt right. The masked figure, who'd been watching him then- felt distinctly similar on an empathic sense, though perhaps a touch less hostile then. That's not the only thing that clicks home either, the chairs leg managing to slide together in an altogether crooked manner- and just barely able to stand on it's own splintered moorings, so the Kensai can properly lean back against the wall. "I don';t think I've had much dealings with any of the administrators, really, beyond the opportunity to collect my payroll. I'm not quite sure they're enamored with me, given the speech I made at that Ball. Though, I'm sure you might have appreciated the show. Not so much the kid." That said, Kasyr's reaction to Dryaxdiin's name is one of pure befuddlement, if only because the name doesn't even ring a bell- courtesy of the Kensai's lack of research into his predecessors. "...Either they fired him, or did he retire, and give enough leave that they were able to make the switch. That one es administrative, however. Et I'm more of a glorified supply teacher." Truth. The kensai might also have mumbled something along the lines of "One, plus a truant." but he's sort of talking into the palm of his hand and just leaning forward giving the guard a really fixed look. Which does help with catching sight of the chain. And gives the Kensai something else to focus on for a brief moment. A gift from his wife, or his kid-? Really, unless there was a familiar empathic imprint on it, and feasibly something fresher, the guards general air of familiarity in tandem with their odd bearings was likely going to earn far more scrutiny.

Karasu has her attention pulled to the light tapping of the garnet stone against the armor for just a hair of a moment. As she reaches to drop the amulet back behind the armor, his comment regarding the tourney is made. Lightning strikes nearby, reverberating the room will a dull bass. In the flash of white light, a look of something malicious ghosts across the guard’s face. Perhaps a brief consideration of murder for the exposure, or perhaps trying to recollect which tourney specifically he was referring to. “Aye, I’ve been to plenty of tourneys.” She says slowly. There’s a twitch upwards of the lip when the comment of the truant is made. ‘I knew it, I should have woken him up by smacking his goddamn head.’ The feline thinks to herself. But, as much as she was so sure just a few hours before, the microexpressions at the mention of the teacher he replaced could not be faked. “Hm. I guess the rumors are false then. I suppose some were wondering if you were still part of some separate organization with an affinity for interfering with persons of power, like those in the Guild.” Nevermind that only one person in all of Lithrydel was perpetuating said rumor. The guard’s shoulders drop with a deep exhale as he looks out to the window for just a few moments, a mixture of relief and resignation etched on his features. Still, might as well go for the big-ticket question. “Your little truant is the missing one, you say? Damn, what an ungrateful student.” The guardsman says dryly. The relative silence of the room is punctuated by the sudden staccato of hard rain droplets beginning to pound the roof. “Isn’t it kind of weird, though? That’s the daughter of a councilman, and they found an autograph book with your name on the last filled page. Adoption papers were half-filled out for a little dragon runt picked up too. I don’t think someone like that suddenly ups and leaves, unless she thought her life was in danger if you ask me.” The guard chuckles, though it has little mirth. Rather, it sounds somewhat bitter. “I guess it's a good thing that no one ever asks me, though.” With a deep sigh, the guard suddenly stands, moving his hand to what might appear to be the long curved sword at his hip. “I think we’re done here.”

Kasyr s' hackles go up, that sensation of murderous intent palpable to the empath- an insidious miasma that burbles up briefly before it's quelled by his interrogator. The kensai is officially awake now, his ears beginning to crop up, and a certain tension beginning to work it's way through his form. There's no retorts or clever remarks from the Kensai anymore, his replies coming far more tersely. Was it an assassin, after all, or something far more personal, like Vexar's little vendetta. The accusation of being some agent to a foreign power or organization galls the Kensai- in part due to the idea of being someones pawn, yet he fails to rise to the provocation. There -is- a souring of his expression, however, as the guardsmen begins to intensify his prodding, honing in on the specifics about a certain student. Was it meant to be bait, so that he might blurt something out? And it clicks- the figure before him had been at Vexar's fight- watching him. Spying. And there was a sense of familiarity that tied back even futher. The comment about danger only solidifies that sneaking suspicion, Tessa's words about Kaaname's threats towards the changeling, and the attempt to garner her support in kidnapping his daughter drifting back up from the depths of his thoughts. Suddenly, the focus on Kaaname of all the various administrators began to make far more sense. The magic guild preparing to eat it's own, in case the Kensai had shown any indication of knowing that the provost had been meddling with the fates of his students. "You know. I've been well-behaved, and doing my best here- to avoid precipitating a conflict between Larket, et the Mages guild. Because I'd be loathe to see any of the spellblade class pay for my temper." The thing about this comment, is it's also meant to arrest the figures attention towards the Kensai, who was now in the process of pushing his back against the wall and sliding up to his feet. "But, I don't think I need to show any restraint towards one of Tsuji's stooges." Yeah, Kaaname has managed to rise higher on the list of the sword saints 'Problems to deal with'- and whilst he wasn't able to dole out a well-deserved defenestration currently . . . the current antagonist seemed like ideal target practice. And suffice to say, if Karasu's attention had been pulled by the Kensai's words- she likely wasn't going to have much warning when a metallic sliver opens in the air in front of her, and promptly swipes towards her gut- in an effort to ferry her back into the swordsmans chambers. Now just to hope he's right. And to formulate an excuse that's better than 'They were like this when I got here' or 'They tripped and fell like that. Multiple times.'

The spellblade dips her hand into her pocket. The veiled threat is nearly missed as the woman’s guard had dropped at her own determination that the Kensai would not target “Karasu.” What she did not account for was that he still did not know who exactly she was. In that brief respite of being calm, her mind idles on how exactly she was supposed to word her identity, or if she even should reveal herself at all. “Yes, a fight between Larket and the Mage Guild is exactly what we are looking to avoid.” The baritone voice of the guardsman rings out as he digs through his pockets. “As well as...” Any thoughts regarding choosing to drop the shapeshifting incantations are put to rest when it finally registers what he says about her father’s lackeys. A rumble of thunder cuts off any protest she tries to make. “Wait--” Karasu snaps her head up and throws her arms out. A familiar crystal moves with the armored hands of the disguised spellblade, one that the Kensai had stolen just weeks before with the then-Provost. The modified crystal goes flying, bouncing off the wooden wall and disappearing into the sheets of the bed. The materialized silver just grazes the borrowed armor with a grate. Instinctively, the spellblade withdraws her sword. The length of it is fragmented in odd angles from their original shattering, but pulsates with the familiar blue light of Xalious. She does not extend the whip of the Sagaribana, but instead uses it to parry a second silver that nearly takes her head off. Karasu uses the borrowed chest in the center of the room as leverage to jump across onto the wooden chair with surprising dexterity for what appears to be a middle-aged man… with deep violet rounded cat ears. “Kasyr, I--iiiie!” The baritone voice suddenly rises suddenly in pitch, as if a balloon were popped. In her panic, the half-feline had missed that this chair has a perpetual carpentry issue apparently no carpenter in Kelay could ever repair. The chair leg goes flying under the bed and the spellblade falls towards Kasyr. She tumbles to the ground, the concentration of her shapeshifting ability broken, revealing her true half-feline form. The armor, now exaggerated in comparison to her tiny frame, falls off with a series of loud clatters, leaving her in her usual attire: a sleeveless black turtleneck to cover the mark on her neck, and some equally black shorts. “Who the hell are you calling a ‘stooge’?!” Karasu snaps, rhodolite eyes nearly glowing in the dim room as she glowers up at him.

Kasyr can feel a burning in his lungs, a heat in his brow that threatens to rival the fever coursing through him. After all this brief bout of sitting idly in Larket's 'pleasent prison', there's a grim sense of progress, an end to the stasis he'd been enduring. There's a satisfaction to be found at the idea of putting a dent in one of the plethora of problems surrounding him, "You're lucky I can't let loose here." Considering there's still metallic slivers fragmenting their way into existence and coalescing into fresh blades- the Kensai definitely has a skewed sense of restraint. There -is- some, however, which makes the actual process of exerting his will on those summoned swords feasible when Karasu's mystic masquerade comes to a rather indignant halt. ...Well, mostly halted. There might be an array of swords just sort of buried around Karasu, but it's fine. Definitely. "...Uh." Yeah, there's a really slow blink there as he tries to take stock of the situation. "...N...ot you? ...I stand by truant, though. You really messed up the curriculum I had planned." The ease in which his tone slides to one of casual familiarity is probably a bit disarming, but then- it's clicking for the Kensai why that persistent sense of familiarity had been there the whole while. His instincts knew better, even before it dawned on him properly. "...Oh. Right. Uh. Sorry?" She looked fine. It's fine. "... You are fine, right?" She had a slighter frame, but she at least wore armor. At a glance, he was fairly certain it was fine. "... So, what was this about, exactement? I assume it's not a latent deathwish." His left arm comes up to offer a lopsided slug, before he allows himself to begin sliding back down the wall, the various swords around the room winking out of existence. Yeah, those notches were going to need explaining. Maybe he could sweep all the splinters under the bed.

Karasu gives a low catlike growl at the Kensai’s provocation. She lifts her arms up, and winces at the grating of the metal on metal as the armpieces of the stolen armor fall away. The Larketian guards wouldn’t notice some holes in the armor. Probably. “I apologize if the realization that I’m a sleeper agent for a megalomaniac deviated your curriculum of illegal student-veneficius relationships.” The woman says sarcastically, baring her fangs at the Kensai with a disgusted curl of her upper lip. Seems that someone was the last to know. The feline drops her shoulders with a huff and carefully sits up, avoiding the materialized blades as she does so. “I am certainly not fine, but given a missing student seems to raise no red flags for you, I’m sure it's as fine as the situation is ever going to be.” Karasu pats her coat and withdraws a crystal from the inner pockets. “No, not this one.” She mumbles, putting it back. Her eyes scan the room again to search for the misplaced object and her eyes light up. “Ah.” Karasu gets to her feet and rummages through the smelly sheets until a runic crystal is produced. For a brief second, she considers throwing it to him, then takes in his disheveled state. “That’s uh… really messing you up, huh.” A glimmer of pity crosses her features before she remembers what Quintessa had just told her not even an hour ago. Nearly dying out in the mountains, while these two had the nerve--! The crystal is roughly launched towards his bad arm. With a snort through her nostrils, she withdraws the opposite crystal. “Since we can’t remove you from the premises right now, you’re going to use this to come to a meeting. Ever seen an illusion crystal repurposed to project light and sound over a large distance before?”

Kasyr seems oddly heartened by the spite in Karasu's tone. "Well, if you can snark, I probably haven't broken anything, so, fine enough." As for the actual contents of said snide commentary, well, " To be fair, people quit school all the time, et it's not like there was any formal inquiries from your father." Probably because that would have aroused even more questions. "It was -odd- certainement, but I wasn't really aware that Tsuji es a pile of sentient garbage until recently. Really, I avoid the cancel if I can help it, since politics are, and always will be, a nightmare." There's another one of those lopsided shrugs, his hand then coming to rest atop the sling his right arm resides in. "Et Tessa did mention you were fine to moi- so, It's not like I had the inclination to hunt down someone who clearly didn't want to be found." Her comment about the state of his arm is met with a blank stare- not for any lack of understanding, but simply a lack of wanting to talk about it. Though, waiting to reply instead earns him a light pelting. "Hey. ...Wait. Did you steal these from Lanlan, too? I thought I was the only one to burgle his of-ffff. Er." ...Kasyr is just going to pocket this now, and casually pass the buck, "Er, yes. These look familiar. I didn't get to properly look into them with Odhranos yet. But, uh. oui." The weird mixture of anger, resentment, and ..other emotions he probably doesn't want to poke at for the sheer sake of valuing his life is certainly distracting, but he does finally remember to ask, "Meeting?"

Karasu tilts her head from side to side as she considers his rationalization. It wasn’t a terrible point, but still! “Yeah, I guess.” The spellblade lets out a sigh as she holds a hand out to help him up, abeit in a much nicer way than the guard did. “Don’t… don’t sit on the floor when there’s a bed right there, that’ll just make your fever worse. What are you, five?” She nags him lightly. Despite her annoyance with him, he was still the same Kensai that helped calm her nervous breakdown in Trist’oth. A rolled up scroll is produced from the same pocket as the crystal. She opens it up and hands it to him. “Lumo.” The utterance bathes the room in light so he can read.

Greetings,

This is a private invitation to the Library of Arcane Knowledge in Frostmaw, where a select few members of the Mages Guild will gather. Please destroy this letter upon reading and mention it to no one.

Careful of any eavesdroppers at the door, she whispers to him, “Peter is dead, and something has gone very, very wrong within the council. If the nobles find out, it's your execution, and the entire Xalious Village that gets burnt to the ground, so you need to be kept in the loop about what we’re going to do about it.” With a deep sigh, she adds, “I’m also going to take my place as co-leader of the Spellblade Corps so that Quintessa isn’t forced to remain in a place that is trying to set her up as the patsy.” A smaller parchment is produced with an incantation. “You in?”

Kasyr resists the urge to be obstinate, and instead heeds Karasu's offer of help, rising up to take a seat on the bed. "Dying from a fever after everything would be pretty sad, enfin." That said, once she hands him the scroll and begins to fill him in on things- the Kensai finds himself at a loss for words. Rather, he falls back on the habit he's kept during the crux of his stay- softly humming out a prayer to Daedria, in order to fortify himself against the gradually encroaching sickness. A half-measure, to be sure- but the one available to him. Only when he's reached the bottom of the scroll, does his humming falter- long enough for him to nod in affirmation to the feline. "Sounds good. I take it this meeting es because you have a plan of action? Or to form one?" Some part of the kensai is morbidly curious as to Peter and his death- whether it was suicide, murder, or some stupid act of negligence- but it simply doesn't matter. The fact is- once it's known, that all but guarantees the war.

The sound of footfalls near the doorway from a passing guard causes Karasu to whip her head back, her hackles raising involuntarily. Risky business this whole espionage affair was. At least she would never have to do it again once this Larket business was settled. “Aye. To be honest, I have no idea what is going to happen, or who all is involved. This isn’t even my invitation.” True to her word, the backside of the parchment shows it being addressed to one Veneficus D’Chath. “I mean.” Karasu steps forward and holds her hand out to pocket the message so she could give it back to her other mentor. “Really, I’m his plus one, and you can be my plus one. That’s how these things work, right?” The spellblade tries to give a half-smile at the bleak situation. After a pause of silence, the smile drops, her expression serious again. “If King Macon declares war on Xalious, we’ll get you out of here before word can even get back to Kelay. Myself and some colleagues are actually set up just down the street from here. I think there’s an old steel flask with your initials on it somewhere in the armory room of the place too. You can hide out there until it blows over. Now then.” Karasu moves away from the bed and crouches, taking note of the holes in the floor in a vaguely person-shaped silhouette. “Let’s try… Lignum abscondito?” She presses her hand to the holes, and a blue light emits. The wood moves at her touch and bends until the holes are filled in with splintering wood.

Kasyr is probably not discreet with the relieved sigh he makes, but Karasu's bit of home renovations is certainly appreciated given the grief it spares him. The rest of her words take a bit longer to process. "...Wait. So that's his last name." ...Okay, so he was getting hung up on the wrong thing, but anyways. "Anyways, I certainly appreciate the cordial invitation. Et the promise of rescue if everything catches fire." The eternal pessimist in the Kensai quietly amends that to 'When'. The mention of a nearby armory rings a bell, but frankly, that doesn't narrow things down too much. "I'll try not to die, in the interim. I expect the same from you. After all, I was looking forward to being able to refine your swordsmanship without the looming threat of . . . Well." Business as usual. When is there not looming threats.

Karasu nods at the vague end to that sentence. She feels a prickle on the back of her neck and a sudden feeling of dread that this could be their last encounter. “No one is going to die.” She says resolutely. Her bravado falters, and she adds, “No one else is going to die.” With a sigh, she steps forward, then decides against it. “I would hug you goodbye, but you kind of smell like the waiting room of a clinic. When you’re better.” She smirks. “See you later, Former Senpai.” A hand moves to the amulet around her neck, and she resumes the form of the Larketian guard from earlier. Admittedly, the imposing form is much more entertaining when wearing cutoff shorts. The guard dons the cut up armor to travel out with and discard of. “Thank you for your time for this interview, apologies again that it could not wait until morning.” The gruff voice says as the door is opened, just loud enough for any outside to hear. With that, the half-feline disappears into the storm to relay the interaction back to the new Syndicate.