RP:Pendants

Part of the Agitation Arc

Summary: Josleen visits with Callamyre and the women discuss The Order of the Shade, magic pendants, and lycanthrope. Callamyre gives Josleen a necklace to help with a certain werewolf

West Hall (Frostmaw Fort)

Josleen, a veteran nurse of two Frostmaw wars and confidante of the Steward, resides in the fort whenever she visits the City of War. As such, she is familiar with its other residents, among them Krice whom she considers a friend. In Frostmaw, he is the only one who knows about her lycan troubles, which plague her this very moment. She stands outside Krice's door dressed for the cold. The bard still favors turtlenecks these days, given the vividness of the recent scar on her neck. She raps her knuckles on his door thrice, then calls, "Krice? It's Jos."

Callamyre had been sitting at the desk, poring over her notes regarding the recent goings-on in Frostmaw and Xalious. At the knock, she looked up, her hazel eyes flashing briefly gold, an uncertain smile tugging at her lips. Looking sideways at the door, she hesitated, wondering why Josleen would be searching for Krice; the woman’s insecurity aside, she moved across the room, unlocking and opening the door. Unlike Jos, Calla was dressed down in a simple light gray dress, her coats draped over the nearby wingback chair. “Hullo,” the vampire greeted, looking curiously down at the shorter woman. “Josleen.” Beat. “Krice isn’t … here.” As she said this, there was the subtlest tinge of sadness in her tone - Krice was definitely not here, and had not been here for days, a fact which greatly disturbed her. “Can I help you with something?”

Josleen blinks several times when Callamyre opens the door. Given the scientist's greeting, she certainly has the right address. Her mind starts to guess at the nature of the relationship between Callamyre and Krice. No insecurities triggered there on Josleen's part, given that her heart isn't looking too closely at the warrior. "Oh... Calla! What a surprise. Do you...?" She peers into the room to gauge its occupant by the decor. "You live here too? With Krice?"

The room itself held only the one bed, and while there didn’t seem to be very much sign of the warrior’s presence (most of his things being tidily tucked away in drawers and behind armoire doors), Calla’s things were, naturally, strewn about. A stack of books on a night stand, a tall, cluttered sheaf of papers on the desk, and dirty clothes were in a haphazard pile in a chair. Callamyre didn’t need to have spent very much time back to make the room hers, though, it would seem. “Do I … Oh, uh.” A shy flush dominated the vampire’s freckled cheeks. “I, uh.” The hand not holding the door open rose to scratch nervously at her neck. The delicate intricacies of her occupation of the room had, as of yet, been rather private. “I suppose I do?” She tore her hazel gaze away from Josleen’s curious face to examine the room, as if coming to the conclusion only then that she did, in fact, live here, and that she did so with Krice. Her lips curled into a small, but genuine smile, and she returned her gaze toward the bard. “I can, uh … I can let him know you were looking for him, whenever he gets back.” Calla’s smile faltered a beat, fading subtly from her eyes. Then, her expression softened, and in a gentler tone, she added, “Unless there is something I can help you with?” Something to distract the scientist from dwelling on the warrior’s absence.

Josleen waves a hand dismissively at Callamyre's offer to let the warrior known the bard was looking for him. "Oh no, it isn't pressing or very important really." She tucks away Callamyre-Krice gossip for later use, though who would she tell? Ansel, probably, though he likely wouldn't care too much. He seems to enjoy the way she gossips more than the gossip itself. Speaking of couples confiding top secret information, Josleen says "Actually, has he spoken to you about a...a brooch?" She poses the word sensitively, as if the item were cursed.

Callamyre was still standing in the doorway, inadvertently blocking Josleen’s entry, and realizing how rude she must seem, she stepped to the side, opening the door more and waiving her neck-scratching hand into the room. “Um, no, I-- I actually have not seen him since before seeing you in Xalious recently,” the vampire replied, a nebulous frown tugging at her lower lip. The woman’s hesitance regarding the subject was noted with inquisitive understanding, and Calla tilted her head. “Any brooch in particular, or …?” she fished, her curiosity getting the better of her as usual.

Josleen accepts the invitation with a smile and steps into the room. She isn't quite sure where to sit. Books pile on the chairs. If this were a single woman's room she would perch on the edge of the bed, but now that Josleen's imagination has run wild with assumptions about the nature of Krice and Callamyre's relationship, sitting on 'their' bed seems inappropriate. Thus, she stands awkwardly. "I was going to tell you about it in my next letter, so this chance meeting is quite fortunate. The necromancers in Xalious that I told you about?" She waits for a sign of recognition on Callamyre's part. "They are trying to revive an old necromantic sect called The Orderof the Shade?" Another pause to make sure Callamyre remembers all these details. "The Order have five fabled items. Krice told me that he has one of the five. A brooch. This is of course confidential. If the necromancers found out..." The bard shudders. "I am askinf Lady Larewen Dragana of Vailkrin to visit Frostmaw to meet with Krice, myself, and you, actually, to dissect and discuss this brooch. What should we do with it? I don't know."

Callamyre made a low, “Aah,” of understanding, nodding her head to Josleen. “Yes, I do, in fact, recall Krice telling me about it,” but she neglected to mention that she had done more than hear about it; last she checked, it was in this very room, hidden away. Being that she had not actually tried to determine if it remained, she made no mention of its potential whereabouts. “A lot of dark magick in that brooch,” the scholar went on to say, her expression sober, albeit her gaze was alive with thoughts and speculations. ‘Of Vailkrin’. Calla had not been to the dark city in a long, long time; she shifted on her position on the bed, her gaze flitting away nervously for no more than a beat. Then, that gaze was leveled on Josleen once more, and her dark brows rise. “If you destroy it, you risk sending that magick out into the world.” Beat. “It may need to be cleansed, first … and if that proves to be unsuccessful, locked away, far away, somewhere no one can ever find it.”

Krice told Josleen the brooch was somewhere safe in the fort, but didn't specify where. She can guess it may be in this room, but, for this meeting, its location is unimportant. On some level, she prefers not to know. That knowledge is dangerous. She nods in agreement in several places throughout Callamyre's assertions. Dark, dangerous, and in need of being cleansed or locked away: yes. "Lady Dragana is a powerful necromancer allied with the village's interests. Between the two of you, I am confident we'll find a solution." Confidence is 90% showmanship anyway. That's something the bard knows how to do. A silence settles between the women as Josleen debates bringing up a second subject. The deliberation plays evidently on her face, and given the actress's ability to manipulate her expression, the fact she allows this uncertainty to play across her features can only mean she wants to be asked 'what ever is the matter?'

Callamyre did not know it yet, but Krice had, in fact, moved the brooch from its last location in the room, wanting to put some space between it and the vampire in case some villainous folk came looking for it. At Josleen’s words, she nodded, attentive and concerned, a pensive weight settling on her shoulders. “Yes, that is good -- I look forward to meeting the Lady Dragana.” Her reservations about dealing with other vampires aside (it seemed she had no choice lately as her compassion for others outweighed her projected self-loathing), she studied the bard as the room fell into an apprehensive quiet. The other woman appeared to be troubled, and of course, Calla bit, hook-line-and-sinker. “What is it?” she gently urged, her expression softening.

"Well... I didn't just come to see Krice about the brooch," Josleen confesses, though she is quick to explain herself before Callamyre's insecurities marry her imagination and run wild. "I've been researching werewolves lately. He has some experience." She claws at the air before her face to pantomime Krice's facial scar. "But you're so well-educated I'd be foolish to pass up an opportunity to pick your brain about the curse. Lycanthrope. My curiosity has nothing to do with the lich and necromancers and all that." Her voice trails off as she eyes Calla to gauge whether or not Krice has told the scientist about this. The warrior isn't a gossip, but is it really gossip to talk to just one confidante? Everyone has, and needs, a confidante. It's possible he mentioned it in passing; it's possible he hasn't. Without that knowledge, Josleen chooses her words carefully.

Callamyre definitely had a not-small amount of residual insecurities regarding her relationship with Krice, but none of them seemed to be in the forefront of her mind as she fixed her hazel-gold gaze studiously on Josleen. She pursed her lips faintly, thoughtful and empathetic to Josleen as she revealed the true reason for her visit; following the woman’s words, her expression softened, and she shook her head. “Lycanthropy?” the scholar began, her voice soft and contemplative, as she recalled what she knew about them. Krice had not, in fact, spoken with her about it, but the pieces were not difficult to put together; as the realization came to her, she breathed another word, gentler than before, her tone laced with understanding and sensitivity regarding Josleen’s position, “Ansel.” The vampire was not ignorant of the man’s affliction. She rose from the bed and clasped her hands together before moving toward Josleen, her chin dipping in a nod. From one in-love woman to another, the scientist murmured earnestly, “What can I do to help?”

Josleen frowns slightly as Callamyre guesses -- and it was clearly a guess -- that the werewolf is Ansel. She isn't saddened by Callamyre's knowledge, but bothered by her own ignorance. It seems everyone knew about Ansel's lycanthrope except Josleen. Granted, he did make an effort to hide it from her, and she made an effort to ignore the signs. "Y-yes..." she says uneasily. Does Callamyre also know about their clandestine affair? Probably. They've been sloppy recently. "Well... I'm not sure there is anything to be done. I am scared he will lose control one day and hurt me. He almost did once. I know that now. If it weren't for the woodsmen, the beast inside him would have killed me. Not Ansel, but the beast and Ansel are not the same."

Callamyre was unaware that Josleen was married, and her private matters with Ansel were, of course, private. She made no comment regarding their relationship, and instead focused on the reason Josleen was here. “I see,” she mused, pulling her hazel gaze away from the other woman as she searched the room, gathering her thoughts. “Um, well -- actually, that is quite true … they are very different entities, but … the same, too.” She chuckled wryly. “But, all is not lost, Josleen,” she went on to say, moving away from the other woman and toward a chair, the belongings on it rummaged through. “I, … hm, where is it?” The woman left the chair to search a bag near it, finally withdrawing a small, velvet aubergine-dyed pouch. Straightening and turning back to Josleen, her hazels complemented by sparks of curious gold, she held the pouch out. “Krice once gave this to me … to help … deal with my own demons, as it were.” Inside the pouch was a dragon’s-eye pendant, charmed in such a way that it helped to suppress anger and similar emotions. “Perhaps … perhaps it is what you are looking for?” She shrugged, feeling as if she should do something more, but fixing Ansel was unlikely to be something as easy as a pendant. “It … may not be a perfect design,” she went on to say, “but … it … may help still?” For a brief moment, her gaze grew dark with memory; when the images in her mind faded, she offered Josleen a small smile. “Here … I want you to have it.” Beat. “For Ansel.” The pendant was for the lycan to wear, and while it would not stop his shifting altogether, it could help him control the emotions that oft led to unintentional but dangerous changes. “It helped me … I hope, now, that it will help you.”

Josleen's brows lift in curiosity as Callamyre references her own demons. The bard is as of yet unaware that the scientist is a vampire.She accepts the lovely pendant and turns it over in her palm several times,then bounces it to feel the weight of it. Real precious metal. Not cheap. It's enchantment is just as real, and the bard can feel it soothing her own anxieties. A blue fluorite-and-silver amulet of the Xalious Tree that hangs around Josleen's neck glows celestial blue as it tries to eat the magic emanating off the dragon-eye pendant. "...Oh, I-I can't accept this..." Though she definitely wants to. "It's too much." Her brown eyes search Callamyre's for an excuse to walk away with this pendant guilt free. That may not be possible. "I could never repay this."

Callamyre was insistent, covering Josleen’s hand with her own to ensure the woman took the pendant as a gift. “Do not concern yourself with its payment, Josleen,” the woman said, her tone gentle, her hazel eyes kind as she leveled them (presumably downward given their heights) toward the bard. “I am just happy to be able to help.” Her expression softened, then turned a smidge wry. “If this pendant does its job, and is able to help you --” The scholar’s lips curled into a genuine albeit small smile. “Well, the pleasure such news would bring is more than enough, I believe.” The woman's own pendant was belatedly noticed, and she added with a warning yet curious, "Although, perhaps we should put it in a box until you are able to give it to him."

Josleen returns the smile. It's exactly what she needed, and wanted, to walk out of here with what could very well be a game-changer for her relationship. At Callamyre's warning, she blinks down at her own glowing amulet. "Oh! I didn't realize. I forget I have this sometimes," she says in a tone that suggests laughter without actual laughing. Recognizing the curiosity in the scientist's tone, the bard offers an explanation. "It's from Frostmaw, actually. Fluorite and silver, a gift from Steward Hildegarde. It's meant to protect me from magical attacks."

Callamyre’s hazel-gold gaze was understanding and then inquisitive, her interest in Josleen’s pendant showing plainly on her freckled features. “Fluorite and silver?” she replied, looking down at the necklace, and then back up to the bard’s face. “Do you know how it works?” The scientist was definitely interested in items that affected the way magick worked; a pendant that could protect from magickal attacks was right up her alley. She paused, thoughtful and hesitant, then, “Would you like that box?”

Josleen shrugs slightly. "Not very well. The fluorite is said to hold magic, or is it mana? I know a mage who used it like a mana reserve." Her husband, but suspecting Callamyre knows the truth about Josleen and Ansel, she feels a need to keep her marriage in the dark. It's confusing to keep track of which man must be kept in the closet and with whom. She can't wait to be rid of this complication and present herself genuinely again. "I believe The Royal Academy of Aramoth teaches about precious gems' application in magic?" As for the box, she says, "If you have a box to spare, I'll take it now. If not, I am sure I can source one on my own."

Callamyre canted her head to study her female companion, the gears in her head all-but-showing in that studious gaze of hers. “I see,” she mused, very much intrigued by this new information. “What? Yes, of course. I do in fact have a box for you.” The woman’s lips were pulled at the corners as her cheeks rounded, an eager-to-please grin surfacing briefly; but as she turned away to find the aforementioned box, that grin faded, growing more thoughtful as she began to rummage through her things. As she did so, she spoke to Josleen, albeit her attention remained on her task, “By the way … if Ansel is still interested in learning the, uh, finer arts of healing.” Cue a self-satisfied half-grin at her wording. “I would be happy to take him on as a pupil.” Beat, then, “Leone--” She looked up, judging Jos’ reaction to the name before adding, “The cleric.” Another beat, and she resumed her search of the box, now moving over to the chest of drawers. “Mentioned something about healing for Frostmaw, and -- If I decide to (I have not yet decided), I could use all the help I can get.” Finding the box, she mumbled, “Aha, there you are.” Digging the box out of the bottom of a drawer, she withdrew the small, wooden container, opening it up to reveal that it was empty - but also that its inside was inscribed with special runes that seemed to glitter when catching the light of the fireplace and various candles in the room. “Here you go. This should keep it safe on your journey back to Xalious, and … should prevent your own pendant from rendering it inert.”

"He is still interested, I believe. He's been..." Depressed? "Busy. But I'm sure he'd welcome lessons." Josleen smiles at the name Leone to let Callamyre know she recognizes the High Priestess and has a good opinion. "Healing Frostmaw in what way? Did you know I volunteered as a nurse in Frostmaw during the last two wars? Ansel also volunteered during the last war. That's how we met." She takes the fancy enchanted box and blinks down at it in disbelief of Callamyre's generosity. "Now this is definitely too much. Callamyre, you are very generous but I think now I am embarrassed. It's too much."

Callamyre was not about to take the gifts back, and she waved her hand dismissively. “Do not worry about it, Josleen,” she went on to say, her tone gentle but insistent. “Like I said, I am happy to help.” Shifting the topic back to healing, she added, “Well, I have a little skill in healing via spatiomancy, and I am familiar with humanoid and creature anatomy.” Without going into too many details, she clarified, “Healing is not … really my forte, but I would like to help where I can.” Although she had re-grown Leone’s hand after it was wounded by a feral badger kit, she had no intention of boasting about her magickal prowess. Instead, she added, “It is good that Ansel has some experience in these things.” She offered the bard a small, genuine smile. “I am sure it will work out well.”

Josleen sucks in a deep breath as she accepts Too Much. She gets hot under the collar as the exchange begins to chafe against all her social etiquette. The most she can do now to salvage this is not over stay her welcome. She stands and says, "I'm sure it will. Thank you again for everything." After pantomiming air-kisses to both cheeks, she excuses herself. "I'll be in touch about the brooch."

Callamyre had no reason to keep Josleen from departing. Now that the exchange of information for the box and pendant had concluded, she took a half-step back, lashes fluttering and eyes opening wide as the woman leaned in to air-kiss both freckled cheeks. “Uh, yes. I will be staying in Frostmaw, you are welcome to seek me out at any time.” The words were sort of squished together as she recovered from strange cultural difference, although the smile that tugged at her bow-shaped lips was earnest. “Take care, Josleen,” she parted with. “It was nice to see you again.”