RP:One More For The Road

Part of the Welcome To The End Of Eras Arc

Part of the Once Upon a Midnight Dreary Arc

Summary: In the wake of Kasyr's rise to royalty, a long overdue meeting happens between himself and Quintessa. At long last, the air is cleared between them- and with it, some unpleasant truths are discovered.

Vailkrin Council Room

From the topmost room in the castle one might expect a grand view of the dead lands, but the sight is somewhat obscured by the choice of deep red leadlights in place of windows. Still, the amount of light, aided by the soft glow emitted by several pillars of carved ice which jut from the floor, is enough to make this room brighter than the rest of the castle; bright enough to read, at least, for this room serves as the Vailkrin council chambers, where the rulers of the land might meet to plan city development or wartime strategies. It also serves as an office in which to meet foreign dignitaries and ambassadors, and as such houses at its centre a great circular table at which to discuss political matters. From the table a pathway of ever-solid ice leads across the dark stone to an elevated section of floor upon which rests another table, this one more akin to a writing desk complete with a plush velvet chair and surrounded by many bookshelves, cupboards and files, presumably containing various contracts and treaties relevant to the state.

Kasyr has been hard at working drafting letters, notarizing work permits, and making use of the various documents Iintahquohae had been compiling for months insofar as assets they could leverage towards (re)construction, and the more pressing expansion the city now required. That said, somewhere in the midst of his work- he got a rather distinct sinking feeling. A sort of awareness that caused a pit in his stomach, and a subtle exhaustion to tinge his expression. "Get some tea and biscuits, s'il te plait." There's a dismissive motion to one of the servants in the hall. "Wait. Also a bowl of eyeballs. Merci." That last one may have earned a slightly quizzical look- but, it's still an order they'll enact post-haste, leaving the swordsman to try and finish what last bits of work he can, before his day is invariably ruined.

Quintessa wasn’t the type of person to just waltz up to the front door, but it occurred to her that she probably should today, like a proper guest. In less than a waltz and more a skip through shadows, the changeling arrives wearing a long, chaste, pleated dress, her lace bodice cut high, covering her neck and arms, her long black hair tied back into a messy bun. She comes unarmed, though as always the wicked mana that swirls around her was ever present. What kind of reception would Quintessa receive when her ghostly figure appears looming in Kasyr’s threshold? The changeling doesn’t know, but it wasn’t as if her intentions were bloody as she slowly steps closer, searching for guards or servants in order to inform them that “The one who calls himself resident of this estate has an important visitor.” If she knew about the bowl of eyeballs, however, her anxieties would have been dashed already.

Kasyr wouldn't be the one to greet her. That would be fall on one of the guards- specifically, a portly fellow by the name of Riggs, who was offering the changeling an altogether apprehensive look. Largely, because he'd managed to get to a portly state of existence -despite- his supposedly unchanging nature, because of very cautious unlifestyle. Still, this was already going better than the last intrusion- since a guard wasn't getting punched in their throat on the first day on the job, reality was still intact, an undead throng wasn't pouring in- nor were there even impolite curses. ..All of which meant Riggs had to do his job. "..You've been expected. If you'd follow me, we'll announce the arrival of her Ladyship Blackwell." Kasyr just itches at the side of his temple, one part anxious, one part irritated. To the point that he almost misses the return of the servent he'd sent out- "Blood Jelly biscuits. We also have a Belladonna Te-" If this man could die from a look, it would have happened. He practically withers beneath the stare. "Keep the former, just get some coffee and a whiskey. Calice." And before the servant can fully evacuate, he hears the swordsman call out, "And get some goddamn eyeballs in here." The swordsman grimaces, before he gets to his feet, and begins to collect the detritus about the room. Boxes of letters, bundles of petitions, mostly empty coffee pots, and a number of bottles are all collected and thrown into the seemingly endless abyss of his backpack- to provide a faint illusion of order to the office. Best to maintain some illusion of professionalism.

Quintessa offers Riggs a simple smile, her lips pressed firmly together as he speaks to her. “Thank you, Ser.” The changeling has no idea if this rotund guard was a knight or not, but Quintessa still offers the honorific to him out of politeness. Let none in the world consider the dark fae woman a poor guest- punching guards was right out. Quintessa followed slowly, her hands folded behind her back as mismatched eyes examined everything, the servants, the decor, the detritus- everything. When the changeling finally steps through the door into the room where Kasyr was awaiting her, she has to stifle a chuckle. “Don’t bother cleaning up on my behalf,” she teases, already moving to accept the food and drink offered to her. Once she had partaken of that her intentions here were sealed; She was protected under Guest Right. “I was expected? I suppose I should feel somewhat honored…” She didn’t feel honored one bit. “All the same, I suppose we should get this over with.”

Kasyr can't exactly blame Riggs for the look of relief on his face. It had only been a few days since a deranged knight had broken in under pretenses that had yet to be properly explored. That said, what he -can- blame the man for, is not -knocking-. The swordsman is elbow deep in the bag, as filing cabinet worth of Census details is vanished. "...Thank you for guiding my guest." He doesn't -sound- thankful. Still, he does take Quintessa up on her offer to stop with the remainder. While there wasn't too much left to shuffle, she was also used to his old office- which had consistently been in a legendary state of disarray. Which means, there's little to do, except take a seat and idly pick at one of the bloody jelly biscuits that were present. "Like I said earlier, we should talk. Though, I suppose there's a bit more to discuss now. Still, I'll let you have the floor." His head tilts towards the door, and he lifts a hand to pause her, as the manservant delivers the coffee, whiskey, and eyeballs to round out the biscuits. It's only when the man leaves, that Kasyr clears his throat. "If you'd like, I can even give an oath to tell the whole truth- given you're not being observed any longer."

Quintessa dusts off a chair and takes a seat across from him, letting whatever bits of scrap that was in it before fall to the floor. She picks up an eyeball and touches it to her bottom lip as Kasyr speaks, her expression flat and hard to read. She lowers the eye before she speaks, her voice betraying the woundedness she still felt in her heart. “Yes, I feel like we have much to say to one another but I don’t even know where to start…” She finally pops the eyeball in her mouth and begins to savor it like a candied cherry, giving herself time to think. “Business seems like a good start,” She swallows before continuing, “Castle Blackwell is no more. I have no lands nor titles to call my own. If people still refer to me as ‘Countess’ it is only out of habit. I’m no longer in the position to aid Vailkrin as I once was… But from the sound of things you don’t want my help anyway. You’ve made your position clear; Vailkrin is a treasure for you to plunder when it's most vulnerable.” There is a strong sense of disappointment rising up in the young woman as she speaks, “I hoped we could rebuild as equals but you never intended on keeping that promise to me, did you?” What started as business had quickly devolved into her personal grievances, the sting of her heartache lingering behind a closed door she refused to ever open again. “Perhaps we *should* bring magical oaths into this, so you can stop leading me around like a donkey- Like I’m too stupid to understand your schemes.”

Kasyr doesn't really seem inclined to interrupt the changeling as she vacillates between the neutrality of a politician, and the more poignant hurt that detailed their shared history, and the mutual roles they'd undertook in their interactions. There are even a few sparse moments where he feels the need to hide his expression behind a tactical sip of tea- or to quell some spur of the moment comment. It seemed more prudent to allow her to get the full breadth of what she felt off her chest. Really, that felt necessary during this time, was to collect a few errant papers from a draw in his desk, and casually set them off to the side. It's only when the accusations are done, as the venom lingers in the air between him, that he finally lifts up his hand to speak, albeit with a cadence that is almost lyrical, "Than as Daedria is my witness, I offer you a solemn vow to her that she lay me low if I lie during this meeting." The effect is almost immediate, a ribbon of light forming about his wrist, and then snaking it's way up along his arm- gleaming sheet music dancing along his arm, and finally coiling about his throat. "Apres-vous. And then we can address the heart of things, non? It's not like I would have been -able- to give you a straight answer for some time, without risking you dying." Well, he's not been struck dead yet.

Quintessa inhales slowly, the breath of air steadying her emotions somewhat. “Then allow me to do the same,” The changeling sweeps off a corner of the desk, slapping her hand down on the empty surface and manifesting a curse- one targeted on herself. Bright, red glyphs appear around her hand in a circle, binding her so long as she holds her hand there. The magical writing scrolls and rotates in the air, attached to nothing, orbiting around the center as the moons did the planet of Hollow. “May my eyes bleed and my humors rot in my very stomach if I willingly tell a lie.” The glyph locks in place as she finishes the sentence, large spikes digging into her flesh but not doing her harm yet. “You could have told me the truth from the very beginning,” she argues, “I know now what you were doing with Gevurah, trying to stop that… thing. All of my woes started because you kept me in the dark about it. Had you prepared me… Had you told me it existed I would have refused it, but in the mind of a lost teenager I felt I was following in your footsteps. I thought it was a god like your Deadria, come to elevate me as she did to you. How could I have known otherwise? I did it for you- to protect you from Gevurah because I loved you. I had no grand designs for power at the time.”

Kasyr might have winced slightly at the spray of papers, but, anything beyond that is repressed- as she undertakes her own efforts to keep these proceedings honest. It's something that he affirms with a slow, subtle nod- before he listens to her words. To the accusation that rings true to herself, a statement, but one which still begs for an answer yet unspoken. "I was just trying to keep you-" He can actually feel one of the notes burn, and he has to pause and think carefully on what he was saying, his tongue flicking over the words, trying to find the lie. A pause that ends abruptly. "That's not quite right. I did not want to share the burden, because I was, and am tired- of outliving people I care about. Of being betrayed. There wasn't some great scheme there. Just habit, of keeping my designs to myself. So, as much as I was keeping you safe, I was also doing it for myself." There's something distasteful in that acknowledgement, that doesn't wash out with a sip of coffee- even after an ample amount of whiskey has been added, "That said- what would I have told you about Caluss. Given how early on the alliance with Gevurah imploded, I couldn't have provided much warning- other than, don't deal with mysterious things."

Quintessa finds herself staring at Kasyr for a long time, a flood of tears begging to spill over but that stoney guard around her heart refuses to yield to them. “So it wasn’t because… “ Her mismatched gaze breaks away from his own, not wanting to accept the truth but logically understanding it had to be true. There was a new emotion now; Embarrassment. “Perhaps I *am* too stupid. I have held onto that for the longest time…” But she didn’t have to anymore. She lets go of it, a weight being lifted from her shoulders, the resentment subsiding a little. “I thought you didn’t respect me,” Quintessa’s gaze lifts up from the floor to meet Kasyr again, “I thought that’s why. I thought you just saw me as a little girl- grown enough to share your bed maybe but not enough to share anything important with…” Her emotions surge again, the bittersweet feelings of those past memories forming a hard knot in her throat. “All I ever wanted back then was to be by your side,” She scoffs at the irony of the situation, the corner of her mouth cracking into a smirk. “Things certainly can’t go back to how they were back then anymore, can they? So what is left for me in Vailkrin? Am I to be your hostage now?”

Kasyr takes another long uncomfortable sip of coffee, this one being of the almost palpable infectiousness of Quintessa's awkward realization. Really, the only thing he could add was, "I wouldn't have taken you on as students, or continually provided hints et lessons if I didn't respect you." The delivery is perhaps dryer than it ought to be, still coloured by all the moments between. "Not so much. I certainly had plans, an olive branch of sorts, mingled with an admonishment- but, you've done an adequate job of setting them abla-" The note tightens slightly, and the Kensai can feel himself growing vexed at the way the oath seems allergic even to hyperbole, "Hindering them. It's more complicated, in any case. And to be frank- we're still not there yet. There's more of our mutual history to dredge up- given the words you've shared privately, et publicly. So, ask your questions, I know some still remain."

Quintessa shrugs, “When I was an apprentice for the Mage’s Guild we students were treated like badges to be collected. Why would I think it was any different when you got the shiniest two? The top of the class, and me, the second best. I didn’t think respect had anything to do with it.” Her eyebrow raises when Kasyr speaks of admonishments but she lets it pass. They’d get to that later. Quintessa still had a question that was lingering on her tongue as Kasyr predicted. “Alright… Why did you attack me? You were a guest in my forest and you put your hand through my chest. Lanlan and I had things handled- did he not tell you the plan? How we plotted against Caluss in the realm of dreams? All we had to do was continue to distract it with the Blood Bowl while the relics were collected but you decided on your own to provoke it- Why? Valrae’s blood is on your ha-” The sound of sizzling emitted from somewhere behind her eyes inside her skull, causing the changeling to hiss as blood pools in her tear ducts. “No… I had a choice. It let me choose her- but it demanded retribution regardless because of you.” She wipes the blood from her eyes with the back of her hand as the curse relents and accepts her amended statement, the sizzling ending slowly. “And again I avoided targeting you because I knew if Caluss took control of your mind we’d be finished… That and after a certain point you became utterly untraceable.”

Kasyr cants his head just slightly. There were a number of assumptions carried within her statement, misinterpretations that had quite obviously been left to fester. There is a very long sigh, his fingers already moving to massage the dull throb now pulsing in his eyes. "First off. To my knowledge, Lan hates me- so I was never privy to much information from him, nor anything I could really trust. Even during our alliance, he went out of his way to be a nuisance and provoke me." There's a small shrug there, "To be fair, I also didn't trust him not to actively sabotage any of my plans- so, I kept him at a distance. It was easier than trying to change his mind- et it's not like I could sincerely say I care one way or the other." There's a slight sizzle there, which has the Kensai amend his statement, "I care a bit, because he's obnoxious." The kensai waves that statement away, however- endeavouring to get things back on track, "As for that day. . ." There's a lot of complications in what could be said here, the order in which to present it all. "I believed you were willingly serving as his herald. Something which your dalliances with Gospel lent some credence to- alongside the brazenness in which you acted. Et a gods strength es built off their heralds, their abilities to capture the hearts et minds of people- something which made your efforts to curry favour and popularity -tainted-. I believed that you had sold the city out in pursuit of power- that you'd betrayed -everything- we'd ever spoken about. The last vestige of trust I'd placed in you. Spitting in the face of lingering sentiment" The swordsman flicked his eyes off to the side, a distinct discomfort there, "The benefit of having fought alongside, et against ascended beings for so long, es you get to know how they work. Et bleeding out their followers, their cultists- es a surefire method to cripple their influence. So in that moment, as you flaunted your ability to beguile the masses, I resolved to kill you. There was no large plan, no conspiracy. I simply brought you somewhere, to hear your last words so I could at least give you the opportunity to spare some final words for Karasu, et then I intended to end your life." His tongues pressed to his canine now, the words coming out a bit more carefully, "As for your forest? I was no guest. I breached your lands- brought you there, not even as an insult- but simply for the seclusion it provided. Because I did not wish to cause turmoil in the city, or make a Martyr out of what I thought-" There's a sharp sizzle there, as the swordsman adds, "What I still think was a cultist, in that moment. Because there were times where it truly felt like you became that mask, most often when it seemed related to spite. Because you -wanted- me to know that you could hurt me. ...Even if it meant stabbing the woman who had spoken up for you time et time again." There's disappointment there, and it doesn't ebb away as he adds, "And every time you spoke about me trying to kill you. It never occurred to you why I didn't simply -squeeze- my hand. Why I didn't do to you what I did to Caluss? Why you didn't exsanguinate mere moments after I Left? I didn't -just- spared you. I Fu-" His hand sweeps across the desk, knocking the bottle of whiskey aside, "ing healed you. Enough so you'd survive, but still be wounded enough your overlord could not ask much of you. And my reward was you hurting Valrae, and doing your best to sow dissent."

Quintessa , at first, finds herself deflating, the knowledge that her allies couldn’t put aside their differences long enough to stop a literal world ending crisis- just long enough to communicate the plan, causing that deep sense of disappointment to rise up again. It isn’t until he admits that he thought she was a willing herald does the disappointment yield to bitter disgust. “I would never-” It comes out as a whisper, but she doesn’t interrupt, letting her black fingernails dig into the wood of the desk. She clenches harder, when the bottle of whiskey is knocked asunder, but she doesn’t flinch. “The brazenness- the pageantry- It was all planned. Lanlan told me that to fool a god we had to put on the greatest performance the world had ever seen. I was an actress- The Villain. I had a role to play and I trusted you all to know your parts too.” There is a sense of helplessness now, “Was I truly the only one who knew? I knew I couldn’t break character- Caluss was always watching me, but Lanlan could have told any of you… “ She sinks into her chair now, exhausted from trying to hold back her emotions, which she was already doing a poor job of. “Caluss wanted to take Vailkrin by force and I persuaded it not to, and said that I could unify them willingly. That was the lie I told it, so you are partially right. It *had* to look like that to fool him… but you all were supposed to know the truth… Let it think it was winning. So when you attacked me in the forest I was so confused- I didn’t know if this was part of the plan or if you were going rogue… And then when you let me live I knew you must have been plotting something, so I waited for a message from Lanlan in my dreams and it never came… Only now I discovered it was because none of you were actually working together.” The tears Quintessa had been holding back finally came, shed for Valrae. “I didn’t want to…” They flow silently down her cheeks, a dignified cry. “I didn’t want to hurt her and I deeply regr-” The sizzling returns, filling her tears with blood, “No, no, I don’t regret it because I learned so much about her- that she’s a survivor like me. I did that to her and she was still the one who saved me in the end. I owe her my very life.” Quintessa sniffles, wiping away her bloody tears. “As for being a cultist… I am no more a cultist than you are.” This was her honest opinion on the matter, not understanding the differences between gods, ascendi, or primordials. All the same thing in the end to her, just powerful bullies who wanted lesser beings to suffer.

Kasyr doesn't notice her curse coiling about her when she vehemently denies ever being willing to act Caluss tool. Something which stills him as more, and more spills out. And yet, there's something that doesn't sit well with the Kensai, something which twists and turns in his guts, in the same manner his own oath kept him on track. Which steels him, even as something akin to sympathy stirs anew. "Perhaps. But the things you served were dark, and there was certainly a precedent. And the damage. All the damage you wrought. . . Time et time again, you laid waste to things- et no one seemed willing, or able to stop you. Not even Karasu." There's that faint edge of disappointment again, moreso at a perceived lack of resolve, than anything. "Which left me. To clean up what I had been left to believe was an unchecked problem. Again." This time, the anger isn't directed at the changeling, but outwards, a palpable resentment at the 'work'. "I'd -considered- making you Coterie, more than once. But if you think that would have stayed my hands, or any of theirs? We held each other to a higher standard. We kept each other in check." His hands clench at the memories, a gentle hiss of unnecessary breath slipping between his lips, "Can you tell me, honestly- not looking backwards now, not as you are- but in those moments, or the ones leading up to them- that you didn't relish doing harm to me, or anyone else? That some part of you didn't glory in the whole? Of somehow being clever enough to pull the serpentine city into a disarray that lasts even to this day? Or the myriad problems that cropped up in Vailkrin? ...At any point, you could have spoken up about that newsletter. Because, certainly- you might not have officially approved it. But your -silence- spoke volumes in and of itself." The swordsman falls quiet again, his fingers brushing over to a different drawer on his desk, before the recent copy of her propaganda is -also- tossed onto the desk wordlessly. "Same message, different author."

Quintessa finally lets out a laugh at the absurdity of the concept that being Coterie would have somehow shielded her, recalling the story he had told her of the rabid members they had to put down before. “Yes, your ‘blood princess’ as I fantasized about being, as if I could ever become Coterie to begin with. A comforting dream… but it would kill me wouldn’t it?” She thinks for a moment about his next question, about if she relished doing harm to people, tilting her head to the side as she seriously considered the question. “Well… of course I enjoyed it, but relish in it?” She shakes her head, unsure if that’s how she’d describe it, “You turned it into a game for me with each training session I tried to kill you. Every time I slayed an enemy- made them suffer for defying whoever told me to kill them, I was rewarded. The Mage’s Guild rewarded me by allowing me to progress to Arcane Steward, the Necromancer’s Guild similarly rewarded me for my experiments on the Druid’s Eternal Tree. Kasyr, the truth of the matter is I didn’t understand how terrible of a lesson I’d been taught- to take enjoyment in cruelty, until after I was taken prisoner and I experienced that kind of cruelty first hand. I didn’t understand that trying to kill one another isn’t a game until I saw the look of terror in Valrae’s eyes.” She thinks more on the question. “But glory?” She rolls her eyes, “Please, I enjoy the attention sure, but it doesn’t motivate me. If it did I’d retire and become a singer. There was no glory to be had in pulling Queen Reginae’s city into disarray, nor did I particularly enjoy it, nor do I feel proud of it. I hate what took place there, that she bought my act so much that she used a holy artifact for it. Even now thinking about what she did leaves a nasty taste in my month.” She pauses again, thinking about Saorsa’s words regarding the God of Undeath. “What was I supposed to say in response? Acknowledging Caluss only would have given him legitimacy and empowered him. Imagine what I would have been forced to say if I had- It would have demanded that I acknowledge it as Supreme Ruler of Everything That Was and Everything That Will Be, and anything less I would be punished for. Keeping quiet was the best thing I could have done for Vailkrin- nay, the entire world.”

Kasyr does, in fact, remember that awkward look of shame in the changelings eyes- shortly before the horrid performance orchestrated by Reginae. At the time, he'd chalked it up to being caught in the act, but- her story resonated with the almost apologetic nature of their exchange. "Well. Naga-ville will be resolved in time. Part of Shishi' atonement, is stamping out the remnants of Caluss' Cultists." While Tessa continues to try and absolve herself of responsibility, the Kensai can't help but add, "But the story could have been suppressed, the one disseminating the message dealt with- even indirectly, given you had contact with Lan through a discreet channel. There were countless options, but this one ultimately served you." There's a pause here, before he simply adds, "Because as much as you've stated a desire to work as equals- I imagine a part of you wanted to win. To come out on top et prove yourself my better. To make this city love you, even despite how much you hurt it." Once again, his head nudges towards the paper, "The undeath threaten civil war, the drow arrive here, as scared refugees- painted as invaders, the vampires as what? Effete sycophants? This doesn't feel like the act of someone hoping for a better future. It feels like a spiteful stab- from someone who would rather see the city reduced to ashes, then lose." There's a pause, before he finally, and quietly adds, "It feels like -Larewen-. Tell me I'm wrong, Blackwell."

Quintessa || The indignation stirring inside of Quintessa simmers down when Kasyr speaks of methods of disseminating the message and how she should have responded, only able to weakly shrug in response. “Yes, you’re right, I could have done more but I was paralyzed by the endless choices. Everything seemed like a mistake. When I needed you most, you-” She shakes her head. She was done lamenting about all the lessons she had wanted to learn from Kasyr. It was time for her to defend her position regarding his ascension to the throne. Quintessa sits up straight, fixing her posture and returning her practiced, emotionless mask, snuffing out what she had already been feeling. “Kasyr,” her voice is cold and patient, “I do want to be Queen, but that is a complicated desire, one that I have long set aside for more practical goals. Being ‘winner’ in this particular game doesn’t serve me- In fact, the only unification that would occur should I try and seize the crown for myself would be every Vampire House in the kingdom rallying against me. It would be a sort of unification, yes, but not one that serves the realm, nor myself. Just as your power grab now is doing the same. Did you really think you could just declare yourself King, someone who previously abdicated and threw Vailkrin into chaos to begin with? You didn’t consult your allies- you didn’t consult me. Had you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, I’d probably be your Cup Bearer or whatever insulting title you would have thrown my way.” Quintessa points at the paper, “The Drow are our ancient enemies and they are crossing the border in droves, murders and thieves, all of them and you consider these people scared little refugees? You think their barbaric culture has concepts for such things? What would you have me do, lie and leave the east even more defenseless than we already are?” She inhales slowly, tamping down her temper before continuing, “You know what stinks of Larewen? You. I remember how the last civil war started; Larewen declared herself Queen- demanded the fealty of Houses on the spot, just like you are. And just like House Mahara did to House Dragana, I will stand in defiance of this clearly selfish power grab. You are not the legitimate king- not yet… “ She sighs, a small breach of her practiced apathy, “Had I known I could have fabricated those claims for you but… What’s done is done. Give me a fair reason to retract my words and I will do so.”

Kasyr has been waiting for the moment that Quintessa would establish her indignation, and begins to slide a few papers over- though he doesn't remove them yet. He simply waits for her tirade to continue- his other hand moving into his coat in order to pull out a cigarette and set it to his lips. At this juncture, he doesn't even really need to snap his fingers. A few errant sparks take form, and do the job smoothly enough- so that he can take in a long puff, and hiss out a line of smoke. It's only once she's done smoking that he removes his hand, and flicks the documentation over to her. What had been long Notarized statements now marked with stamps denoting their invalidation. Certainly there was a demotion entailed there- though, it was perhaps not to the degree that she expected. Her title of countess was diminished, but would have been codified as Baroness. A title fully granted rather then assumed. The next document was perhaps a bit more lengthy- a title in government, an official in charge of the immigration office pertaining to undead individuals, both sentient and otherwise, as well as the disposal of dangerous entities that fell in either category or between. A punishment, perhaps, given the vast population that existed- but one that would have come with a different kind of status. A purpose within the cogs of Vailkrins aristocracy. The next one is harsher, however- a notice of levys and taxes specific to the damage caused by her house, all of which was to be allotted to a fund to be managed by various offices in the city, to ensure it's fair distribution to the cities restoration. Which is followed, last of all, by a simple invitation, to be a representative to whatever Dark Fae that resided within Vailkrins grounds, as part of a joint council of interests. Perhaps it would have been a token voice, given the overall populace- but it had been there. Kasyr, does not bother to outline any of this. He simply sits there and smokes as she goes over things- waiting until she's on the cusp of saying something, before he adds, "As for the other houses- I'd long entreated them to get their acknowledgement, to figure out those who would threaten the city, like Nasar- our mutual foe . . or those who would benefit it, even if members resented me, like Mahara. I made deals with all of them, over those long years- just for this moment. Just like I sought out individuals who had their respective communities in mind, Cherie. If you ever thought this was spur of the moment, you were sorely mistaken. Distracted. But then, I -did- go out of my way to provide an ample amount of curiosities. I wonder if you ever even noticed that Mahri et Lita had been selling out your smuggling routes to me. I did my -best- to keep you busy, all in all."

Quintessa is honestly surprised, the kind of surprise that is undeniable. She lifts her hand from the sigil circle, ending the spell as the glyphs slowly fade away to nothingness. “Huh, well…” She flitters through these, somewhat unimpressed by what her job would have been. “I always hated the title ‘baroness’...” she mutters like an ungrateful teenager, a flashback to her old behaviors. The part that did catch her attention was the offer to be representative of Vailkrin’s Dark Fae, something she would have been honored to accept. “Well,” she repeats it again, smirking at the taxes and levies. “Even before my statement I couldn’t accept this. The Dark Forest is once again untamed wilderness. I’m nothing but a wealthy merchant refugee, homeless again.” She nods her head when he says Mahri & Lita had sold her out, a curious smirk creeping upon her face. “Oh, I know. I brought them on as allies and that was their privilege. I needed them- still do. I only cared about strangling House Nasar, the profit was only a bonus. Might as well share it with my friends.” She lets the documents fall to the table. “Yes, I did think this was spur of the moment. You skipped some steps- you were never anointed by the council or openly supported by the major houses. You never announced publicly your intentions. You didn’t do anything the right way, you snuck around like a rat. It’s not Kingly behavior at all- most of the legitimacy comes from the symbolism. The throne, the castle, the crown- Without the dramatic flair you have nothing, no flame to cast the shadow of power on the wall.” She folds her hands together on the desk, an annoyed air surrounding her. “So, when were you planning on telling me? After I made a fool of myself, I assume that was your intention?”

Kasyr, unlike Tessa, hasn't bothered to dispel the shackles around his arms, "I think, if you'll recall- I told you to come back et see moi, soon, after I directed you to look after Karasu, due to my concerns. A meeting you post-poned, because you couldn't -wait- to do this. "he taps the paper. "...I had -hoped- that wouldn't do this. I had -genuinely- hoped for better from you." He flicks from ashes from his smoke, a trail of smoke arching above his head, "As for the sneaking? Are you really saying, while Caluss was holding your leash, that you wouldn't have- whether out of necessity, or nature- interfered or harmed those houses?" He leans forward again, a look of bitter humour on his face, "You have a -ruthless- nature. An obsession with information that you can weaponize. A fact I recognized even before you decided to magically stalk moi." It's finally followed by a small shrug, "And the very last truth. I don't give a single flying f- " The chair creaks as it begins to tilt back on two legs, somehow supporting his weight, "about the pomp and ceremony. This city needs results. It needs -immediate- answers, and work put into it. Not some flashy demonstration of..what? Whose in charge? That first night served well enough to inspire shock et awe, I'm not going to spend finances the city needs on inflating my ego- or forcing attendance among people who are suffering." The cigarette's taken from his mouth, and flicked offhandedly into his pack- where it disappears into it's depths. "I can't trust you. Some screwed up, nostalgic part of me wishes I could- wishes things could go back to when we were working together at the mage tower. But it isn't happening. Not now. I can't even see it in the foreseeable future." The look he has to share with Quintessa is personal, a small crack in the professionalism he was trying to do his best to maintain, "You partook of my hospitality. I can promise that you and yours can depart from the city in safety, to the best of my power- even despite what animosity you may have stirred up. Even despite what was, essentially, an act of calculated treason, that only served to inflame tensions. Regardless of how you want to frame it." He pauses, the words heavy on his tongue, before he finishes the statement, "So just. Just, go. You have one day. You don't have a home here, anymore." It's only with these final words, that the chains coiled about his arms, and his throat slip away, the notes dancing into the dark spaces between them- before fading to naught.

Quintessa allows the coldness to creep over her once more. There were things she wanted to say right now, things she knew would breach the sanctity of her Guest Right that was already quickly evaporating, but she held her tongue. “I postponed at your heed- to check my runes if you recall. I could not leave the job unfinished and when the man asked for a statement I provided one, simple as that.” Quintessa stands, reaching to lift the bowl of eyeballs to take with her, cradling it in her arms like an infant. “You’re right, I am ruthless. I am obsessed with knowledge, especially that which I can use to destroy my enemies. That is the way of the world. That is how I’ve survived all this time, and how terrifying it must be to make someone like me your enemy.” She promptly turns and begins to walk towards the exit, pausing only to look back and add, “And it can’t be treason if you haven’t even been crowned yet- how can you know so little about feudal law? What you idly call pomp and circumstance is in reality centuries of sacred laws and customs, just as sacred as my right to hospitality, just as sacred as that title King, which you think you can just wear like some spare outfit. You are so unworthy of it it pains me, but I will graciously take my leave anyway. Thank you, your Grace.” And with that Quintessa turns away again, her shadow magic shredding a hole in reality where Kasyr’s door was, just large enough for her to slip through before it seals back shut as if there was never a tear to begin with.