RP:Something and Someone to Rally Behind
Part of the Lies Within Us Arc
Summary: After their tumultuous escape from Xalious, Valrae, Lanlan and Odhranos sit down for the first time in months to discuss what has transpired in Odhranos' absence. The pair lay the hard truth on Odhranos; the Guild needs a symbol, a figurehead to unite behind if there is to be any chance of regaining what has been stolen from them.
Shop Beneath the Dunes, Oohjmaeyik Tailors, Cenril
Lanlan nearly glides over dunes, wrapped in expensive cloth like a runway mummy. It was the weather! Not a cloud in the sky, the sun blasting the entire region with gently warming rays like a shining tyrant in the sky. And then there was the virus! Or whatever it was. Yet none of it seemed to affect Lanlan, who’s eager promenade was bordering on dance-walking. It serves a purpose, though. His phoenix feathered hat bobs to the beat of his tapping ruby-capped cane, until finally there’s the sound of wood knocking on wood. There it is. The secret door to the secret shop. So he can finally, FINALLY get the clothes he ordered such a long time ago. He chokes up on the cane and taps it against the door a couple times.
Odhanos startles at the sudden knocking from beyond the oak doors. “I’m on my way, hold on a moment!” he calls out, his voice muffled by the twin-doors. The shop is dark, the glowing stones shed no light that Odhranos can see, so instead, a cloud of dust unfolds itself from the darkness. This silvery plume spills like smoke, hugging the corners of cabinets, slipping like silk across the floor until it finds the pair of doors that open inwards, revealing the passage. The sand dust continues, spilling up the staircase, before meeting the underside of the trapdoor with a sibillant hiss. It curls against the weathered wood, before a hand reaches out and grasps the handle with trembling fingers. The door are throw up and open, and a familiar face looks up at Lanlan, bathed in the warm light of the sun. “Sorry, who is it?” Odhranos asks, turning his face upwards, to where he presumes the person making those bootprints in the sand might be. The terramancer is decidedly in better shape than the last time Lanlan lay eyes on him, it would seem the Oohjmayik’s have taken good care of him, but yet, the silk fabric of Odhranos’ Provost’s sash remains tied about his head, obscuring Lanlan from view. “Mr and Mrs Oohjmayik are away at the moment, but I can take a message for them?”
Valrae, as fate would have it, arrives only moments behind Lanlan. Dressed in a long plum dyed coat, the witch was buffeted by the cursed wind that howled along the coast. It sent the long, curled ends of her golden hair snapping wilding and dusted her with sand. She wore a mask, mittens and thick fleece lined cotton pants tucked away in tall brown boots, the heels of which were currently sinking in the sand as she stood behind Lan and cleared her throat. “Get on with it,” She says by way of greeting, shouldering past him to get a better look at Odhranos. She readjusts the giant bag on her shoulder, perhaps accidentally nuding the drow with it as she did, and pushed her mask down to grin at the terramancer widely. “Odh!” The last time she’d seen him she had been weak and unable to stop Haladavar from taking him. The relief that washed over her to see him free and alive again threatened to knock her over just as surely as the wind did.
Lanlan has been walking around Cenril with the Gris-gris talisman on at all times to avoid detection from the dead. It worked! They never noticed him when he walked past, or shouted at them, or tripped them with his cane and walked over them. And it may be surprising that Lanlan was dressed in his particular way, not only to protect from the sun, but to also be seen. The idea that he would come all this way and not be noticed is an obscenity. “Odhranos!” He demanded. “Are you blind? This is no time for jokes.” But of course Val arrives just behind him. He secretly knew she was there and was purposely only just in front of her, forcibly setting the pace. “Excuse you,” he says to her as he magically transports his coat and hat to an empty mannequin. In a snap, the blank faced modeling doll is the best dressed in the room, by Lanlan’s estimation, and the mannequin’s too if it had any sense. “He’s okay Val,” said Lanlan impatiently. “We have to talk about Haladavar.”
Odhranos is buffeted by a storm of emotions, each clearly displayed on his face. First, the bewilderment of hearing familiar voices shouting his name, one in happiness and the other in indignance. Second, his face lights up in sheer glee as he realises who it is that happens to be standing before him; “Lan! Val!” he cries exuberantly, climbing two steps up the ladder to greet them. Lastly, an uncomfortable wince at Lanlan’s protestation and mention of Haladavar stops him in his tracks, and he instinctively reaches up to touch the fabric obscuring his eyes. “Ah...well. That…” Odhranos’ face falls for a moment, before he gestures for the pair to follow behind him. “Come on in, there’s no need to chat on the doorstep. Val, could you close over the door behind you? Thank you.” Odhranos leads the way down the staircase, clinging carefully to the banister as he makes his way down slowly. Val and Lan might notice that around the terramancer’s bare feet, a carpet of sand moulds itself to the contours of the steps, always two steps before the terramancer. Once inside the shop, Odhranos sets about busily, shunting aside the tracts of sand that have found their way onto the shop floor during his time here. He replaces the sand with two chairs, then sets about trying to find the little kitchenette. “Please, sit. I’m just looking for some mugs.”
Valrae ’s joyous mood is damped slightly by the bandages over Odhranos’s eyes, a starling reminder of the horror he’d surely faced in his absence. Her smile falters but she fixes it to her red painted lips stubbornly and moves to hug him quickly, warning him with a gentle touch and quite squeal. “Good to have you back,” The witch murmurs. She rolls her eyes at Lan’s impatience and gives him a stern look. “We can talk about him soon enough,” Val tried not to hover or offer help as he made his way down. Was careful not to wound him with the anxiety that bubbled up to her throat. She closed the door behind them quickly when they’d all entered. Odhranos moved about the room and Valrae hovered over the seat he offered. “I can make the tea,” She calls, heels clicking as she follows him into the small kitchen. “I’m particular about my ah… Water,” The excuse fell dumbly even on her own ears but she sat about moving around him busily anyway, hoping to edge him out and toward Lanlan so they could begin speaking. She found the mugs quickly, sat three of them out while filling a kettle she found with water.
Lanlan can’t help but be mollified when Odhranos actually seems happy to hear him. And even more so when the irritating grains of sand that accumulated about Lanlan during his walk are coagulated about Odhranos’s feet. Lanlan will obviously help in any way he can, and shakes yet more sand out of his sleeves. “Fine, we can talk about him whenever Odhranos is ready.” As he follows in Odhranos’s ponderous steps, he keeps an eye out for his clothes that he commissioned a long time ago. Probably locked away in a safe, because they were such high quality. After waiting several unbearable seconds for Val to make the tea, Lanlan sits down across from the terramancer. And the awkwardness is oppressive. The elephant in the room is that Odhranos has been horribly, horribly maimed, and no one knows how to act, as evident in Val’s need for special water apparently. “No sugar for me,” says Lanlan. A beat goes by. “And no honey either, in case- in case you were wondering.” Another beat. “Actually I’d rather drink coffee I’ve never been one for tea, that’s always been ah Gevie- uh, Gevurah’s thing. The tea.” So he gets up and leaves Odhranos alone at the table, rummaging around for a coffee pot.
Odhranos is busy trying to reacquaint himself with the layout of the kitchen through the lens of a small dust-cloud when he feels a tap on his shoulder. The unexpected touch startles him briefly, and he turns with a quizzical expression on his face before finding himself pulled into a warm hug. Surprising, yes, but very welcome at the same time. After his momentary surprise, Odhranos returns the hug with a small smile. “Good to be back” he replies as he steps back. He looks as if he is about to protest when Val offers to make the tea, but he pauses and grins at her rather obvious excuse. “Of course. Only the best water will do. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.” Returning to the chairs he had set out, Odhranos reaches out to grasp the back of the chair, using it to guide himself to the seat. He turns to follow Lanlan’s voice and can’t help the small smirk that tugs at his lips. Ever the contrarian is Lan, he lives to defy expectation and Sven knows he’s the best at it. The drow’s small slip of the tongue elicits a chuckle from Odhranos as he reclines into the chair. “I’m surprised, I’d have taken Gevurah for more of a coffee drinker. Tea seems too...soft and warm for her image.” Once, Odhranos would have been too prim and polite to make such a rude observation, but obviously things have changed. “Feel free to start talking, honestly I don’t mind. Time isn’t the luxury it used to be, so there’s no point in wasting it. What have I missed?”
18:21:48 Gevurah appeared without warning.
18:22:32 Gevurah backhands Odhranos, demonstrating the soft warmness of her hand.
18:22:48 Gevurah disappeared without warning.
Valrae makes the tea busily and efficiently, as women were want to do, while she waited for the men to initiate the talk. Over the sounds of the kitchen the awkwardness of quiet seemed oppressive. The witch rolled her eyes and called, “Odh, how is Iintahquohae?” Lan was being useless again. She rolls her eyes again when he fussed about sugar, honey. “Come make it yourself then.” She snaps, bringing only two mugs back for Odhranos and herself. “Here we are,” She says, placing her own in her chair first so she can tap his shoulder to offer him the warm drink. “I think I remembered how you liked it,” They’d shared tea once or twice before in the tower. The witch ignores Lan’s noise as he searches for coffee and takes her own seat. A frown bows the corners of her lips as she sits, crosses her legs neatly and sips her tea. “Cenril’s been plagued, you might know. There is a curse, hopefully a cure.” She’d been working tirelessly for it. Guilt pricked over her skin to mention it. Valrae had been so focused on Cenril that she felt a heavy sense of responsibility for the amount of time it had taken to return Odhranos from Haladavar’s grip. It was unjust, painful even, to think of when the terramancer had been so quick to free her when she’d fallen into the prison created for herself out of the crystal skull. “But you’re right. Time is no longer a luxury. Focusing on ridding Lithrydel of Haladavar and his minions should be the forefront of our efforts. The guild has been fractured and we can’t continue on like this…”
Lanlan noisily makes coffee, shifting his mug around and clapping cupboards shut, so Odhranos knows where he is at all times. “Too soft and warm eh? In fact,” Lanlan says, impertinently taking some perceived slight on his Matron’s behalf, “Gevurah can be very soft and warm.” The matron would certainly prefer no one had ever said this before. Suddenly he’s looking for the mustard. “More Honey in your tea, Odhranos? No, it’s good? Okay then.” He puts the mustard down. “Alright where to begin. Yes, as Valrae pointed out Cenril has been overrun by a relentless plague of undead. We call them Valrae’s Babies because she insists that they not be harmed, as if these cannibalistic monsters were worthy of protection!” But that debate is for neither here nor there. “But it isn’t all bad. Uh. It’s a buyer’s market! If you’re looking for property in Cenril there’s never been a better time. The coffin business is booming I hear.” He leans back against the counter and slurps his coffee. “As a direct result of my exile in the latter months of this previous year, an interloper has amassed great power. Terrible power. I could’ve warned the leadership but I wasn’t able too and now the entire Mage’s Guild is disbanded. Scattered. But I’m sure that was also part of his plan. Not blaming anyone here.” Bitterness was very, very present under a thin layer of amicability. “But now we are all exiles! Yet we do have a plan. Ialantha, (who you remember, Odhranos?) Has found a way to bring the book of the archmage to us. We tried to acquire it at the same time as we acquired you (yes I helped, no need to thank me), but it was...impossible.” He slurped and cleared his throat. “The hope is, that if we can unite the former guild members again, or enough of them, that we can call the book to a new home. And that within, will be some clue as to what we could do to stop Haladavar from achieving...apotheosis? Who can say.”
Odhranos brightens up as Val asks how the seamstress is. “She’s doing well, she’s kept me company most of the time I’ve been here. I’m more thankful than I can put into words for her. She’s such a kind soul.” Odhranos folds his hands in his lap and interlaces his fingers, tipping his chin down to hide his gentle smile, and hopefully the slight rosy blush that accompanies it. “Her parents must have the patience of saints to put up with me. Ma Oohjmaeyik told me not to worry about all the sand in the shop, but I feel guilty sometimes, making such a mess just to find my way around. Pa O said it makes him feel at home, said it's the price for setting up shop in the dunes. We get along well.” Odhranos smiles as he talks, evidently his time here has done wonders for his spirit. He accepts the mug of tea from Val gingerly, nursing the mug in his large slender hands. Odh’s face settles into one of pensive concern as Val and Lan fill him in on the goings on in the world since his incarceration. “I was told about the plague, Ma O said I should keep indoors, at least til I have a better handle on navigating myself. Wandering Cenril’s streets is more dangerous now than it ever has been.” Odhranos’ expression only grows gloomier when the topic turns to Lanlan’s exile and the subsequent exile of the rest of the Guild. “Aye. I’ll be blunt, Lan, letting you be sent away was the biggest screw up of my life. I’ll tell it for what it is and I’m going to spend what time I have left paying for it. I just feel that needs to be cleared out of the way.” Odhranos’ mug is drained and it is placed on the floor beneath his chair. “Will the archmage’s codex help? Granted it has knowledge in it considered to dangerous for any but the Archmage to know, but seeking forbidden knowledge was what got us into this mess. How will more get us out?”
Valrae carefully avoids comment on Gevurah and sips her tea, instead focusing on Odhranos. She smiled sweetly, for herself, and in a knowing way. She’d been with Iintahquohae when he’d been taken, seen how distraught she’d been in Haladavar had stolen the whole of the guild from them as well, and noted that even beyond her own self preservation the seamstress seemed only to have a mind for returning the terramancer. So she noted his smile, the color that bloomed on his cheeks, and felt that it did her heart a great deal of good to see it. “Well, I wouldn’t worry so much of it then, if he’s feeling quite at home.” Lanlan broke the mood again. Valrae scowled at him. “Call them whatever you like,” She hisses, “But I know they can be saved and killing them mindlessly makes you no better.” Haughtily, she turns her back to him and takes a long drink from her tea, refusing to let him goad her further. She let them talk over her head for a moment, working the timeline out in her mind and newly considering what Odhranos might know. She filled in what she thought might be blank for him as Lan told the rest. Moved on when the drow found a way to make the conversation about him and whatever perceived slight he’d conjured in his mind. “Your exile was your own doing,” She snaps, angry to hear the guilt that came into Odh’s voice as he apologized for something the witch still considered Lan’s own doing. “Perhaps if you’d been acting as a proper member of this guild and not rifling around under Gevurah’s skirt, you wouldn’t have been outed. And regardless, I don’t see that you could have done anything to stop what happened. Haladavar was prepared. He was ready. He knew more about us than we thought, more about the guild and the weaknesses that he could exploit. As a matter of fact, I’m not entirely sure I can credit you with the whole of your own undoing either. Can we be sure Hal’s hand wasn’t in that as well?” Valrae shakes her head. “Picking apart what happened to assign blame will do nothing to help us.” As Odhranos sets aside his tea Val sighs. “Odhranos, Haladavar is what got us into this mess. Perhaps we helped, with our own infighting and our separate ambitions, but taking on the whole of the blame is pointless and to be blunt, wrong. We don’t know what the archmage’s codex holds or even that it will help but… What's left of our guild needs more than just answers. We need hope. We need a symbol and leadership. Something and someone to rally behind.” And she knew too well how something could fall apart without this, didn’t she? More gently now she adds, “If we don’t find a way to pull ourselves together, Xalious is lost.”
Lanlan chuckles a little bit at Odhranos’s description of Inks as a ‘kind soul’. Not that he doubts it, but that it's so valuable is funny. He didn’t admire Gevurah for her kindness. Ha! Valrae’s amped up again. Lanlan smiles cruelly at her as he spits this: “I mostly kill them with great and mindful care.” he says further riling Valrae. In fact he doesn’t kill them. If they were cured, that would be more dirt in the eye of Caluss! Lanlan will poke everyone’s eye at the same time if he can. Except Odhranos that would be redundant. But Valrae keeps going on about how good it was that he was banned. Lanlan just averts his eyes and waits. Is she done? Finally. He can’t even be mad though, because Odhranos confessed. He melts into a chair, and doesn’t acknowledge it, but an invisible cloak of porcupine needles is shed in that instant. Normally when Odhranos would’ve questioned the reasoning behind throwing so many eggs into a book-shaped basket, Lanlan would’ve received it as a perceived poo-pooing of his plan. Enter Lanlan the collaborator. “She’s right. We do need a symbol, and leaders, not beaurocrats like Kyloriel and the rest.” Then he leans in, touches Odhranos’s hand gently and looks Valrae in the eyes. What we think, Ialantha and I, is that Haladavar’s shiny golden body,” he rolls his eyes at the extreme tackiness of it, “is the result of one, or maybe several, persistent spells. Like a water mill. The river flows endlessly, the turbine spins, and the millstone turns. But if the river runs dry?” He claps Odhranos’s hand and leans back in his chair triumphantly. Then adds. “We at least think we know what we’re looking for. Is all I’m saying. A way to stop the magic.”
Odhranos slumps in his chair, sliding into a hunched posture with weariness. “Haladavar did have a hand in Lanlan’s exile. He’s had a hand in everything that happened since the Razurath genocide and he had us dancing like puppets to his tune the entire time. I’m sure you’ve learned the truth about Brenwyn by now. He had the Guild by the neck and we never even knew it.” He kneads his temples with frustration as he recalls everything that transpired between him and the administrator, trying to find how he could have possibly missed the signs. Maybe if he had, Brenwyn would still be alive. “I understand that shouldering all the blame only makes me a martyr, but I need to reconcile my involvement in all of this.” Odhranos tilts his head towards Val and the silky violet fabric of his sash picks out the contours of his face, holding her with a stern unseeing gaze. “I need to admit my failures so that I can move on and try to fix them. I hold myself accountable so that I can be better. I’m done being a coward.” The smile that Odhranos shows Val is one devoid of the restrained sadness and worry that he had been wearing for the last year. Instead, there is resolve behind that smile. Odhranos is surprised when Lanlan takes his hand, the gesture being quite unlike the drow, but he accepts the gesture, covering his friend’s hand with his own. “So we need a figurehead. A standard to rally behind and someone to bear the mantle. That makes sense to me.” The terramancer nods, then turns to Lanlan on the topic of Haladavar’s arcane body. “Now, that is something I can help with. Haladavar is many things, but being above monologuing is not one of them. I think I might have a way of stopping him, if your theory proves correct. I had very little to do in prison but think; Hal’s failing was giving me something to think about.” A wry grin lights the terramancer’s face. “But let’s address the first issue. How do we acquire the book and gather the Guild again?”
Valrae watches as Odh sinks into his char, frowning and listening intently. It seemed he agreed that Haladavar had been sinking his roots into the guild for far longer than any of them had been aware. There was a time the witch suspected Gevurah of this and she wondered still how she might have been played into Hal’s hand by letting Lan’s betrayal further cement that theory in her mind. She nearly flinched when Odhranos said that it would make him a martyr but made a small sound of sympathy when he spoke of failure. They’d all failed, in her mind, in some way. “I never took you for a coward,” She answers, fondness and understanding carrying in her tone as she returned his smile with one of her own. The witch liked to imagine he could sense it, anyway. The change in him wasn’t lost on her. The terramancer’s new found peace rang hopeful to her and, like the news of his reuniting with Iintahquohae, it did her heart good to see. Valrae’s brows wing up in surprise when Lanlan agrees with her and she attempts to mask this response by sipping her tea. Then she is nodding, agreeing that the guild was weakened by red tape and thinned power by way of the council. She meets Lan’s eyes for a moment. Even they seemed capable of setting aside petty grievances for a moment it would seem. Especially when it so happened their minds aligned on such matters. She knew the drow was hinting at what she’d thought all along. Odhranos seemed to understand as well, but did he understand that the leader they were searching for should be him? Even with the newness of his confidence she could not say. She laughed then, as his wry smile appeared and agreed, “No, I don’t think he’ll know yet what a mistake that was.” The witch looked to Lan then, waited for him to answer Odh’s question, as she finished her now cold tea. “We’ve a few ideas…”
Lanlan nodded graciously and smiled. “You’re both right and wrong, old friend. We do need a figurehead. Someone to rally behind. But it can’t be me,” he says in a moment of clarity and also obliviousness, “I’m sorry. While I would in fact be an excellent, and possibly correct choice under normal circumstances. But I have enemies in the guild and we need a uniter to defeat Haladavar.” He sighed sadly. A truth he wished he didn’t have to admit, but it was a load off. “As for the book. We know it can’t leave the home of the Mage’s Guild. I think the members of the guild, and its leader, uh, decide where the Mage’s Guild is. If we can gather enough of our former colleagues, have someone who’s adept enough at leading people together in rituals guide us, and sacrifice something that symbolizes our connection to the guild in an appeal to its patron, Xalious...then we may decide where that is. We may decide where the Mage’s Guild’s seat of power lies, which will then bring the book to us. Hopefully.” Before anyone interjects he aggressively taps his fingers on the table. “And there is one other issue. That neither myself, nor ialantha, nor Valrae could read the tome. Its pages were blank to us. As we now assume they are to everyone who isn’t the recognized archmage.” His gaze and his voice trail downward in disappointment at this confession that maybe he isn’t special enough.
Odhranos furrows his brow and settles his chin on the palm of his hand as he listens to his friends. Lanlan draws a laugh out of him, as only he could in such a serious conversation. “Remind me to vote for you when we’re united again. Being the excellent and correct choice, naturally.” Odhranos chuckles and bares his teeth in a grin at the drow. “I’d love to see what you do with the place. But in all seriousness, who do you have in mind?” Turning back to Val, he raises an eyebrow. “Kyloriel? He’s had the most public exposure out of the councillors, he’d be well used to being a figurehead. Or Foreza; protecting the Guild is his job after all.” Odhranos leans back and pulls a grimace. “I assume no one has dared to suggest Kaaname. I think everyone has an idea of his nature by now.” The explanation of what the Archmage’s Codex contains doesn’t surprise Odh; mages and their secrets. The only thing stopping mages from being a permanent nuisance to everyone is that they waste half their time hiding what they have discovered and the other half trying to pilfer that which their comrades have hidden. “So we gather our colleagues and have them perform the ritual, to… validate our claim on the Guild? To authenticate ourselves in the eyes of...who? Xalious? The people of Xalious village?” Odhranos ponders this idea then slowly nods. “Okay, lets do it. Let's get our Guild back.”
Valrae scoffs dramatically, shaking her head as Odh and Lan further fluff an ego that hardly could have needed it. But she also laughs, seeming to have softened even toward the drow when they weren’t arguing over Cenril or his exile. Her smile fades to a look of bewilderment when the terramancer turns to her and asks her opinion in earnest. “Odh,” She starts, “You have to know my answer to that…” But he continues, tossing out names of lesser men as if they were truly anyone to consider. “Kyloriel is useless.” Sighing, the witch places her empty cup aside and leans in. “When you’d gone, I spoke to what was left of the council. They knew the Order had come. They knew and they did nothing. They had no plan, no motive for action. I’m sorry Odhranos but the facts are that anyone who sat on that council has proven they’re worthless to us at best and compromised at worst.” She leans back again to shake her head. “You know it must be you. Should be you. If Lan won't say, if you won’t admit it, I will.” Conviction and passion hardened her voice. “There is no one else. Wanted or not, this thing has fallen at your feet. If you choose to turn away from it, and there is always a choice, because you don’t want it… Well, that I can understand. If you turn away from it because you can’t- No won’t, see what you are or accept the power and position that fate has given to you… Well,” She stumbles then, her own brow furrowing as she fights for the words. “You may be a coward after all.” She seemed almost sorry to say it as soon as it left her mouth, but she meant it all the same.
Lanlan snorts at Odhranos’s suggestion of Ky’Loriel then turns his hands up at Val questioningly. That seemed harsh. “She’s right Odhranos. The plague might’ve reached my head but I agree with everything.” He stands up and gets into a T-pose, and from the other room there’s a fluttering of clothes. His coat, hat, and scarf all wrap him up, leaving the mannequin exposed. Now that he knows where he is, and knows where he wants to go, he can show off a little. “We’ll get the word to the other mages to meet in the bakery again. I guess. WITH their staves. I will show myself out.” He flicks his wrist and a glass wand flies between his fingers. Over the course of a minute, he dexterously scribes (while secretly referring to a small piece of paper) 13 glyphs in magical script onto a bare wall. A portal opens up, with ghostly ethereal voices echoing weirdly from the other side, and a wobbly refracted image of his Cenril castle appears behind a purple gelatinous looking window. “Oh! And tell Inks. I want my jerkin, it’s been long enough. Thank you.” He steps through, leaving nothing but lavender smelling vapor in his wake.
Odhranos frowns at Val’s tone and he doesn’t make so much as a sound as she lays it out before him, plain and simple. “I was afraid that you’d say that.” A moment passes and Odhranos raises his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes and groaning with exasperation as he drags his fingers back through his loose grey hair. “Agh, Xalious curse you for being so reasonable, you’ve even got Lanlan in agreement.” Odhranos sighs, then straightens his back. “I’ve had enough running for a lifetime.” He raises an eyebrow and smirks across at Val. “You’re very mean, but I like to think it comes from a place of affection. Alright, if this is the path I need to take, then so be it. I owe it to everyone to make this right.” Odh turns his head, as if taking in his surroundings, gathering what memories he can of this moment so he could remember it in years to come. The moment that they began to take it back. “I’ll be your Archmage, come what may. But first, we take back our home.”
Valrae felt the tension leave her body as Odhranos groans. The anxiety that had prickled over her skin after loosening the words to the air eased. The witch knew what needed to be said but worried that she’d lose a friend in saying them. She laughs then, when the terramancer comments on her and Lan’s surprising agreement. “I am sorry for that,” Her tone is sheepish. “The meanness of it. But I meant every word. There is no one better for this. No one we could trust more.” She stands as well, rolling her eyes at Lanlan’s pageantry and nods. “You’ll lead us home, Odh.” She waits until the drow has slipped through his portal before she moves to the terramancer again. “I am sorry,” She apologies one last time as she collects the mugs, drops them into a sink. “I know you’re no coward. We’ll get through this thing together.” The witch collects her purse, moves to give Odh a quick parting hug and warns him with another small tap to his shoulder. “I’ll see myself out… Would you tell Inks I said hello as well? You know, she had a bat. The night Hal took the guild from us I thought she might pull him down to us with her will alone and beat him to death with it.” She laughs again. “It’s good to see you again. Good to see you here…” And with that she turns, heads toward the door. “Until next time then!” She calls, with more cheer than she’d felt in several moons. When she slipped out into the cold wind that hope stayed with her as she headed toward her son and her home.