RP:Secrets Make Friends

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Summary: Valrae, caught up in the pull of the emerald skull, accidentally removes the illusion magic that allows her to pose as Grace the mage. Quintessa, attracted to the dark power, finds the witch without her glamor and pieces together, with the evidence of the crystal skull, that Valrae is actually a long dead witch. Together they express interest in long forgotten power and lost covens. An unlikely alliance forms, one set on uncovering a forgotten past.

Mage Tower

Valrae || It was only recently that ‘Provost Grace’ was finally able to settle into an office of her own in the Mage’s Tower. Administration had purposefully dragged their feet after her speach during the commencement ceremony that had seen herself and several other members honored for their aid in the genocide of Razurath. She was here now though, and had been happily making the space her own, before a pulsing bit of dark magic managed to suck her down into her desk chair. The office was nice, if a bit small and drafty, and boasted a handsome chestnut bookcase and wide desk to match. There were heaps of disorganized books placed in tall, haphazard piles without any semblance of order on the still dusty shelves. Opened but not yet emptied boxes littered the floor. There were crystals, wands, rocks, runes, and a cauldron that boiled without fire currently filling the room with the scent of honeysuckle and pine. Stacks of loose paper and thick files leaned dangerously on the glossy desk, as well as a wilting potted succulent, a strange network of circular spinning objects moving and suspended through magicks, and in the center of it all a gleaming crystal skull.

Valrae was perched on the edge of her chair, leaning close to the object of old power that pulsed like a black heartbeat. The skull itself was still a bit of a mystery to the witch, it’s powers great but also unknown. She’d only used it successfully a handful of times and each time she felt more and more drawn to it. More attached. Most recently, on Selen Island, it had led her to the Triple Moon Diadem by revealing an illusionary room to her and Mathollak. It had called to her then, irresistible, and beat into her mind like a war drum until her fingers had all but ached to use it. In her right mind, the one that had the sense to wrap it carefully in blinding knots, salt and blessed cloth, she could see that the magic was hungry and dangerous. In a darker part of her mind, the deeply ambitious one, she didn’t seem to care. As the witch trained her bespelled blue eyes on the unseeing emerald ones of the crystal, she let the power call to her again. It washed over her like a flood, seeping into her blood like wine. Heady, intoxicating. She took it in her hands and let her head fall back, eyes closed. Lost in it, she wouldn’t have realized that her illusion slipped. The air around her was charged, lifting the curling ends of her now golden hair as if the room were filled with a breath of bitterly cold wind.

Quintessa had much more time to settle in than 'Provost Grace' had, having been selected to write the spell blade curriculum after both Karasu and Kasyr couldn't be found to to it. Her tiny office wasn't far from Grace's, only a few doors down, so when the Stewardess exited it for some fresh air she immediately sensed a new type of magic in the tower. Mismatched eyes flickered in its direction as the door clicked behind her, her plans of going outside waylaid by curiosity as soft steps gently brought her closer to the source. It was normal for Quintessa to skulk about the Mage Tower, a shadowed visage always keeping tabs on the goings-on in the guild, but she had been gone for weeks working on other missions and experiments outside of the guild. It was happenstance, or perhaps fate, that brought Quintessa here today to discover the magic hidden right under her nose. The changeling stopped in front of the room she thought she'd pinpointed the pulse of magic, like a vampire following the sound of the mystic heartbeat, thirsty for the knowledge it held. "Provost Grace?" Quintessa whispered, her gaze fixating on the plaque that labeled this office as her's. But should she interrupt? Hesitantly, the changeling resisted, instead opting to linger by her threshold as she let the waves of magic pass over her. If Valrea's door was ajar, Quintessa might be tempted to peek...

Valrae || The magic had slipped from her all too easily, pulling her down it’s dark current treacherously. The power was sweet and deceptive enough to have her imagining she was controlling, even enjoying, the ride. That illusion of control shattered as wholly as the illusion of her appearance had when Quintessa’s whisper echoed through her now freezing office. The wind ended abruptly as the skull slipped slowly from Valrae’s fingertips and thumped dully on the desk. The magical wind had pulled the unlatched door further open, allowing a healthy view of the disorganized office. Eyes wide and gleaming as emerald as the skull, the witch found Quintessa standing just beyond the nearly opened doorway and stood so quickly the chair nearly tipped over. “H-hello Steward,” She manages clumsily. “I was just,” The witch moves around the desk, angling herself in front of the dark object laying in the center of it, and pushes at the mess of her illusionless hair. “Setting up my office,” Her smile was beaming but unconvincing as she slapped her power at the door, opening it fully to offer her fellow guildmate invitation. Attempting an air of calm despite the chill of magic saturating the air, Val leans a hip onto her desk and crosses her arms. “What can I help you with?” A stack of files and loose papers tipped and fell, loudly scattering across the floor. ‘Grace’ flinched. “That’s fine.” However her tone suggested it was in fact, not fine.

Quintessa stood there silently, her eyes of blue and hazel squinting with skepticism as the door slowly swung open. The magic drew her in slowly, almost involuntarily. It was beautiful. It felt like music. Her heart yearned to understand it. It wasn't until 'Grace' addressed her did Quintessa look up at her, breaking the trance she would have inevitably fell into thinking up the possibilities of using this magic. But it was not hers to use. "G-grace?" As the witch crossed in between her and the skull, Quintessa blinked up in confusion at her. This woman was not the mousy brunette with the freckled face- This woman was an attractive blonde, tired and anxious looking. The changeling tried to piece things together slowly, her brows furrowing as she made connections both false and accurate. "Um, it's fine," Quintessa said, inching inside enough to close the door behind her. The changeling didn't know what exactly was going on here but she didn't want anyone else seeing this. Whoever this woman was, it was and wasn't 'Grace' at the same time, she could tell from the sound of her voice and the unique feeling of her aura. What was once muted before was vibrant and alive now to the hex blade, a fact which inspired even more curiosity. "It always takes a bit of adjusting. Y'know how it is when moving into a new place... It's like starting a new life." Quintessa hoped her coy hint would be caught by the witch. The girl had never met her before, nor seen a picture. She had no idea who Valrea was besides what she had heard from rumors and reports of what took place in Larket. Quintessa only knew 'Grace' and if Grace had a reason to conceal her identity then she should try to help her Guildmate anyway she could.

Valrae’s appearance was very muched changed from the one she’d carefully crafted for the guild. Her cheekbones were higher, her eyes were more narrow, her nose was more upturned. As Grace she was a brunette with long blue eyes and a round nose dotted with freckles. The true appearance of the body Valrae inhabited was blonde, tanned from days spent on the beaches of Cenril with her young son, and her eyes were deeply green. She was a little taller too and less thin, as Valrae was not immune to vanity. There would have been no time to remedy the illusion before Quintessa discovered her, but even if there had been the witch was blissfully unaware that anything was amiss with her cover. She spared a glance toward the papers that littered the floor and her shoulders fell. “I’ll get those later,” Her tone suggested she was convincing herself as much as the Steward. The skull whispered teasingly in the back of her mind, uncovered on her desk and emanating it’s seductive power unbridled. Val watched anxiously as Quintessa entered the room and closed the door behind her. This seemed to visibly relax her, the witch so rattled by her loss of control that her poker face was failing her as well. She attempted to smile at the Steward’s remark but something about her tone caught her off guard. Confusion passed over her like a dark cloud. Nervously, she brushed at her hair again and it was only then that she realized what had been done. The light caught on the gold of her hair and drew her eyes to it. Suddenly, her stomach jumped into her throat. Her eyes quickly searched her guildmate’s, looking for a reaction. A heavy pause settled around the room. “Quintessa, I can explain…” Could she? Should she lie? Would anyone believe the truth? Valrae searched the other woman’s face, her tongue feeling clumsy and numb. “I ah… What do you know of witches?”

Quintessa offered Valrea a soft smile, one that hinted at the fact that the changeling was sympathetic to witches. "I'd like to hear your explanation," Quintessa said, her smile involuntarily shifting into a tiny smirk. "I know a little about witches. I know that Lanara is a witch, as is her sister- I know there are others like them, like those wrongfully persecuted by Larket..." The changeling inhaled slowly, the last piece clicking in her head. "No way," she said flatly, "Larket? No- that was only a rumor..." Quintessa peaked around Valrea to view the skull once more before her mismatched hues fixed upon green ones. "People can't come back from the dead... Can they?" As a scholar of necromancy Quintessa searched for the answer to that question almost every day. "Why else would you be hiding in plain sight? This is the only thing that makes sense... Are you the Red Witch?"

Valrae’s mind spun uselessly at any explanation that avoided the truth. Could she fool her into believing that the way she stood now was the actual illusion? The look on her face said that wasn’t an option. The box was opened now, nothing was going to fit neatly back in. So how much could she trust her with then? It would be easy enough to tell an altered version of the truth. She was a witch disguised as a mage because she wanted entrance to the guild. Would Quintessa buy an explanation so simple? It felt unlikely… And there was something, maybe in the other woman’s eyes when she smiled, or some unexplainable twinge of intuition, but something made Valrae believe that flying closer to the truth wasn’t only the safest option but the right one. The witch hardly had time to make a concrete decision before Quintessa’s quick mind pieced together the truth. Lying, as it turns out, truly hadn’t been an option. Valrae grimaced to hear the title. “I-” There was another pregnant pause. She let it yawn between them, feeling a bit like a wild animal caught in a snare. “My name is Valrae,” For the second time, her shoulders relaxed. It was almost cathartic to say her own name, her true name. Stepping delicately over the mess of papers on her floor, the witch crossed behind her desk again. The skull, no longer hidden behind her, seemed to grin wickedly in the dancing office light. Valrae stood behind it and pulled her eyes away from it, touching it now to slide it toward Quintessa. “I was burned and I died in Larket. I was returned with this,”

Quintessa smiled again, this time proud of her correct gambit. Her precocious nature didn't always payoff but Valrea seemed to appreciate being able to drop the act. The changeling could relate, having to pretend to be a vampire almost every day. "Valrea," Quintessa repeated, liking this name better than Sarah Grace. Soft steps brought her closer to the desk, eyes now locked on the skull. "So it -is- possible." The changeling knew the witch was being honest with her, her voice held no hint of deception, but after all this time of being fooled by the 'Grace' identity could Quintessa really trust her? "This skull?" This must have been the source of that magic she felt. Sylphlike hands hover in the air over the skull, her aura shifting to examine it. "I must know more of this witchery!" Quintessa felt like she had just met a long lost sister. "T-this skull, is it ritual magic? Do you cut out the hearts of frogs and wrens for your spells?" The teenager had slightly false perception of witches, partly from Larketian propaganda, partially from her own imagination. As the child of a Night Hag, Quitnessa always felt deep down she should have become a witch. Perhaps it was not too late.

Valrae’s attachment to the skull told her that offering Quintessa a chance to study it was wrong. It started as an itching in the back of her throat, turned to a cold sweat at the base of her spine. By the time the other woman had her hands over it, it was more like stabbing an exposed and raw nerve. Magic is never without its price, especially not magic as ancient and dark as the skull contained. Valrae fought back the urge to leap over the desk and rip the crystal away from Quintessa, trembling like an alcoholic in withdrawal. Her face remained serene, only her eyes hinting at the war of magic rippling under the surface. To spite the tempting of the magic, Valrae smiled and nodded toward Quintessa, gesturing for her to touch it, hold it. “Not without considerable effort,” The witch warns, unable to stop herself from smiling at the Steward’s excitement. “This skull is one of six crystals like it,” The witch does not balk at the suggestion of frog hearts or wrens. She’d done her share of dark magic. She’d faced enough to know that she’d go to considerable lengths to do whatever she could to protect her people, her family. She would have ripped out a thousand frog’s hearts and broken every wren in Larket’s neck to see the monarchy fall, once. Even if that was no longer true today, as she’d developed a very soft spot for Queen Josleen. “It’s very, very old and even on it’s own it has formidable power.” And it was dangerous. “There was a ritual, my soul was called to it and placed in a new body. It required all six of the crystal skulls, the help of a coven, and very powerful witches. I’m not who I once was,” There was a melancholy in the admission. “My old body was ash, I couldn’t return to it. I would imagine though, if someone was ah… ‘Fresh’ they could be put back.” Valrae paused again, watching Quintessa. “The skull is still a mystery to me, it’s not wise to use it often… Can you feel how hungry it is?”

Quintessa 's aura was already discomforting and invasive so when Valrea's agitation showed in her deep, green eyes the odd girl simply assumed it was because of this energy she subconsciously put off. "Should I?" Quintessa asked with glee, her own blue and hazel eyes lighting up like they used to when she was a fresh apprentice. She could not resist the temptation. Her pale fingers slowly lifted the artifact up, her aura invisibly engulfing it to identify its magical properties. What the changeling felt was indescribable. Ancient and dangerous energy lived within, raw, untamed, filled with destructive emotions. When Quintessa looked into the empty eye sockets she could feel it speaking to her, asking her for more. "More of what...?" She whispered to it. The Skull did not yet want to reveal its power to the changeling just yet, giving off the strong aura of illusion magic. Quintessa got the sense that it wanted her to use it, but for what purpose she could not determine. Only a couple of seconds pass before Quintessa put the skull back down, wishing to escape the downward pull of its suffocating presence. "...There are more of these?" The changeling asked in disbelief, "All equally hungry?" The stewardess stepped back, understanding the power of these objects. "Six." Quintessa's scientific minded nature took hold. "I wonder how they were created."

Valrae found herself holding her breath waiting for Quintessa’s answer. Did the crystal skull call to her too? She could remember, distantly and through smoke, that Lionel had been similarly attracted to it. It had drawn them together, somehow imprinted a map in his mind as well. But were her memories of his own erratic behaviour around the dark object real or altered? The witch would never be sure. Valrae watched attentively as the Steward studied it, biting back at the possessiveness it stuck in her. She understood then, watching Quintessa, that she hadn’t remembered wrong. The witch nodded. “Six of them, equal in power but different in ability.” As she answered, she moved to cover the skull again, knowing it would help to ease the pressure that had been building in the room. There was loose salt and lavender, a chord knotted nine times to keep it. The magic was still there but buried now, less tempting and blessedly quieter. “Each of them are made from different crystals,” The witch went on, moving now to kneel before one of the opened boxes. She dug around, tossing tomes and tools as she went. Finally, she pulled out the Baines Book of Shadows. It was lovely, ancient and filled with its own power. Nothing as dark or wild as the skulls had been. The worn leather boasted a faded ash tree, an owl perched in it’s bared branches. She flipped through pages filled with spells and notes and sketches, all in changing penmanships, until she neared the back of the book. Opening it fully, she offered it out to Quintessa. It was filled with information on the skulls, skilled and detailed images of them recreated in charcoal and ink. There was a section on all she’d found of their history, though it wasn’t much. “I’ve been looking for those answers. How and why they were created. Who created them. There were covens, powerful ones long ago. And there are artifacts, if you know how to find them, that offer some insight. The skulls, a diadem, a wand, a cup…” It was so nice to share with someone, Valrae realized suddenly. What she’d been working on had been kept close to her chest, she hadn’t even dared whisper it to her aunt who would worry. Watching Quintessa light up with interest had sparked her own passion for the adventure.

Quintessa reached out again, this time for the book that was offered her, fluttering eyes trying to take in the information as if the book would crumble in her hands. "There is an entire history here- a lineage! Not of blood but of sisterhood!" It was all here, clues and leads pertaining to these objects. "I can help you." Quintessa said, her eye shifting back up to Valrea, "This type of research- treasure hunting and finding related material, I can use the Black Library in Vailkin and the Forbidden Library in Forstmaw for this." The stewardess knew that not all the answers could be found in books, some things would be much more dangerous to uncover. "These objects..." Quintessa's fingers touched the page as her eyes returned to it. "I think there might have been ancient covens in the Dark Forest. The witches of old transformed themselves into powerful fea long ago, they became the first Hags. The Annis, the Green, the Sea, the Night. There is a book series about it- Dark Land Deviants. I didn't understand the significance of the skulls, diadem, wand, or cup, but I think I've seen this symbolism before!"

Something stirred in Valrae’s chest, nearly as hungry as the power that beconded from the skull. She listened to Quintessa intently, dark eyes trained on her as she followed. “They could be connected...?” A breath hissed from between her pursed lips, a smile tugging at the corners of them. “This wouldn’t be a guild backed undertaking,” She warned. “The Mages are elitists when it comes to witches, despite more than I being right under their nose,” She grinned now, as if she were sharing a joke with a co-conspirator. “But…” Valrae floated to the desk again, opening the drawer to fish out an empty leather notebook. Distractedly, she waved her hand for the Book of Shadows. “If you’re truly interested,” The witch stills her hands to look up again, her eyes finding Quintessa’s. “I could use the help.” And then she focuses on the desk, nimble hands making quick work of placing the books beside one another. With a flourish and muttered words of power, there was a hum of magic and a flash of light. Valrae offered the smaller journal to Quintessa. If she opened it, she would find all of Valrae’s notes, references and drawings on the skulls, the covens and the artifacts that had yet to be found. “If you write in it, it will appear in my own Book of Shadows. Whatever I write will be shown to you as well. It’s all that I know.”

Quintessa couldn't contain the grin that grew the more and more Valrea let her in on the secret. "Oh no, this isn't for the Guild," the changeling agreed, "The less they know, the better." This went for all of Quintessa's research. She preferred to keep their noses out of her affairs. "I am interested." She said, officially accepting as she took the book. "Together we will uncover the secrets of our mothers and grandmothers- I promise you."