RP:Tell it Slant-
This is a Mage's Guild RP.
The Mages Guild, Xalious
Summary: Quintessa and Lanlan meet to discuss the past and present, and dance tango around the truth.
Within the confines of the magnificent Mage's Tower, Lanlan has managed to find rare peace in a private room disguised nonchalantly among the tower corridors. Bathed in a soft, arcane glow emanating from a small crowd of undulating, airborne jellyfish, the room is an oasis. Its walls are adorned with shelves, lined artistically with ancient tomes he's never read, and may not even exist. Strewn about those intricately carved wooden shelves too, are various arcane artifacts. These do seem to have been regarded at one time or another, but not now. Standing before an intricately carved wooden frame, Lanlan is engrossed in a meticulous task. With his moonlit eyes focused and intense, he delicately weaves the threads of a tapestry that floated weightlessly before him. Yet, instead of using his hands, he commanded the threads with the sheer force of his magic. Invisible tendrils of power feather away from his body, carefully guiding each strand into its rightful place with arduous precision. The tapestry itself is a mesmerizing work of art, or will be. It will depict a battle taking place in an impossible place, waged between celestial forces and primordial death. Brilliant threads of colors like those a peacock has are intertwined seamlessly, forming delicate patterns that seem to shift and shimmer with a life of their own. Thread by thread, Lanlan weaves his spirit into it, seeming to bring about the ethereal land he was trying to depict.
Meanwhile, in the reception area at the entrance to the Tower, Lanlan's secretary Cynica sits perched behind a sleek, modern desk. Their flamboyant attire is a noisy melange of vibrant colors and intricate design. Though some might call their excessive use of shiny things tacky, Lanlan found he could appreciate it. It completely contrasted with their air of quiet boredom. Cynica idly flipped through a worn-out, newly bedazzled tome, their slender fingers tracing the faded words absentmindedly. As the reception desk's enchanted crystals softly emitted a gentle hum, Cynica's delicate features betrayed a subtle longing for more excitement in their daily routine. Even a chance to practice their magic again. Despite the tranquil atmosphere, Cynica's presence exuded an aura of bitterness. It seemed so long ago now that Haladavar was their master, and who could blame them for choosing the side they thought would survive? It was never as if Cynica liked Haladavar, but if the maniac won Cynica may have been much better off. So they stew. Their elven traits and mode of fashion create an ethereal beauty that turn unfamiliar eyes in admiration. Those who knew Cynica often conceal contempt, or they simply don't affiliate. For now, Cynica occasionally glances towards the hidden door and then the main entrance, eager to assist Lanlan or offer any form of engagement beyond the monotonous reception duties, or to help a lay person. Yes, even this.
Quintessa was often the type to arrive when least expected. She unfurls from the umbra like a specter, silence following her like the chill of death as she unwraps herself from the shadows of the Mage Tower’s halls. Does she know about Lanlan’s hidden room? If she does she doesn’t reveal that, instead appearing before Cynica in between glances, her hands folded behind her back as she gazes down at them, her eyes unfeeling as she explores them. “Cynica,” Quintessa speaks, her smile spreading into an emotionless smile. “So good to see you,” The changeling liked them, she always said so. Quintessa steps forward again, her long black robes hiding her silent footsteps, making it appear as if she were gliding across the floor. On her robes she wears the Blackwell crest embroidered into the fabric, an ouroboros around a skull trapped in a thorny, flowering vine. “I’m looking for the Archmage,” she states simply, glancing in the direction Cynica had a moment ago. “Is he available?”
Cynica rested their chin upon their hand and spun their eyes one way, gazing dolorously, then rotating their neck to look toward the other. Their gaze lingers here for a moment, willing for something to emerge from the aether. A deep breath, and a long sigh. Nothing was happening and nothing was going to happen... Their head tilts back gradually, meaning to look again at the place they just confirmed was all inaction, despite how certain they were that nothing would be different. But they're arrested by Quintessa's sudden appearance. "Oh!" For a moment they're actually excited. "Quintessa! When did you come?" Then they remember that the last time they even had a cursory interaction, it was involving Cynica reporting on hers and Karasu's and Valrae's and Foreza's perceived crimes. They'd gotten the better of Cynica, that time, and made them look foolish. But it wasn't Quintessa who should worry about poor Cynica who isn't allowed to do magic against anyone, it was Cynica who troubled themselves to think Quintessa might cause harm to them. "Oh Quintessa it's so very nice to see you too! And just a moment I'll check for you." At this they flip open an unceremonious looking notebook and they scribble something into it. Now that someone was finally here, Cynica can only stare down at the lined sheets on the desk in front of them, waiting. Eventually Lanlan's dramatically swooping script appears, overtaking several lines of the page as if the lines meant nothing. "Yes! The archmage will see you presently. He's carved this time out for just this very type of thing." Cynica points down the corridor between one staircase and another, where there ought to be nothing but a wall and a sconce.
A seam opens up in the sheer stone wall on one side of the sconce, and gradually the wall begins to disintegrate into dust and scraps of paper and leaves and things, and the passage hidden behind is open. "Come through here, Quintessa! I'm just enjoying some free time, but I don't mind putting my project away for now." Lanlan's voice echoes out of the hidden hall with such clarity that he must be very close, yet he can't be seen and the passage even turns before it gets to his room. A rather thick and soft carpet paves the way, and the changeling might find that it even feels more like moss than it does cloth as she walks upon it. But the best carpets should feel a lot like moss, shouldn't they? Inside the smallish room, Lanlan is quietly thanking her for the interruption. The excuse to take a break. He sits in a high backed chair that was carved and shaped out of wood, but clearly held some kind of veneer of plaster or something else to make it appear to be made from stone. He pushes one just like it out for Quintessa to sit in if she wishes.
In a rare move, Lanlan has opted to wear an orange vest today, over bright shirt sleeves. There is something or other faintly out of the ordinary about it, but it doesn't seem to be anything dangerous or threatening. Indeed, it was only that this shade of orange was much more orange than most. "I'm happy to see you looking so well," he says. "Losing one's home can be such a terrible ordeal, can't it? But you appear to have landed with grace." He seemed not to have any expectations at all, regarding this meeting, and couldn't apparently foresee that anything in the world might be wrong. "Oh! I'm afraid I don't have any sort of refreshments or tea or anything like that. But I do have..." He produced a pair of cigarettes, offering her one of them before lighting up his own. As the smoke sails into the room, he thinks again. With a wave of his hand a shimmer flashes across his tapestry before disappearing. "Is there something you would like to bring to my attention?"
Quintessa seems to enjoy the reaction they rouse out of Cynica, their emotionless smile growing in grim amusement. Any issues about past crimes and attempted snitching are far from the changeling’s mind as she continues to stare down at them, a curious glint in her mismatched eyes. Before Quintessa can think of an invasive question to ask them, Cynica informs her that Lanlan has specifically made time to see her, and the warlock feigns extreme gratitude. “Oh my, how gracious of him to make a carve out for me. Thank you for your help.” She moves away, giving one last glance back before moving in the direction of Lanlan’s voice, slipping carefully around the seam and into the secret space the Archmage had carved out for himself. A childlike excitement builds up inside of Quintessa as she explores the hidden hall, pulling up the hem of her dress so her bare feet can feel the mossy carpet properly. “Hmm…” This tiny detail makes Quintessa happy, a happiness she can’t exactly comprehend. “Lanlan?” Quintessa finally makes it to the smaller room, tucked back in the secret hall like a little hiding spot. “I hope I’m not delaying your work too much…” She wouldn’t press him on details about what he was working on. Some mages got touchy about the subject and she learned not to be so bold about asking about it. If he wanted to share he’d let her know. Finally Quintessa sits with him, giving a slight bow of her head as a silent “Thank you.” Mismatched eyes grace the outfit Lanlan was wearing with curiosity, wondering silently how he came upon such a painful shade of orange. Quintessa, as usual, wore black, the only color coming from the vines and flowers on the Blackwell crest adored on her outfit. “Yes, times have been difficult,” She finally begins, a hollowness in her voice, “But I have never been one to shrink in the face of adversity.” She reaches forward to take the offered cigarette in lue of proper refreshments. She doesn’t seem bothered by the substitution. “To get on with business, yes, there are some things I want to bring to your attention. Kasyr. The summit. My future. I need to know where you and I stand in all of this. It’ll be better if you and I are on the same page.”
Lanlan looks longingly at the beginning of his mystically woven tapestry, as if he really did want to get back to it as soon as he could. Nothing could be further from the truth, but he wasn’t entirely conscious of that. “Yes, I’m sure I have time for this. Of course I must put my own desires second occasionally, like we all must.” He noticed her eyes skimming across his coat, and marks with some regret that she misses the opportunity to compliment him on it. “I must say, no one quite wears black the way you do!” He seems to mean it as a compliment. “I always wondered if it was something of a uniform for people living in Vailkrin, but you don’t live there anymore do you? And still, all black! It must be the fashion of it then. A staple for every wardrobe.” But he digresses, and gives up on the topic to let her speak. He nods along with her when she agrees about the difficulties of being suddenly homeless. “It’s true, you never give up,” he agrees. “It’s very admirable. When it happened to me, I found my life leading to a very different place than where I expected.” He seems almost mournful about his old life. “But in fact it has worked out very well for the better! I’m sure it will be the same for you.” When she presents the list of topics, beginning with Kasyr, he hardly reacts, but for a curious curling in one of his eyebrows, arching like a calligrapher’s flourish. At the same time, he takes a drag of his cigarette, and suddenly slides an ashtray out of his sleeve onto the table between them to keep the room dainty. It’s made of some kind of clear crystal that captures the color of his coat-sleeve perfectly. “Of course, we can speak about all those things,” he assures her. “But I think you’ll have to narrow it down somewhat, because I can’t imagine what connection any of those things share between you and me.” His eyebrows droop and rise back up expectantly, and his easy smile only seems slightly more artificial.
Quintessa tries to hide the pain in her core each time Lanlan mentions Vailkrin isn’t her home anymore, another nail driven into her heart. “Y-yes, indeed…” She allows the archmage to pull the conversation back, her lips pulled into a straight line. “I’m making attempts to rebuild what was lost to me, but I have to agree. This sudden change has pulled me in unexpected directions. The uncertainty of it all still leaves me wondering if it's truly for the good, however…” Quintessa raises the cigarette to her lips and lights it with a simple cantrip, a flash of green light showing on her face for a brief moment before the smoke rises. “I can explain how all those are connected,” the changeling states simply, letting the smoke drift from her mouth as she savors the taste. “During our whole debacle with Caluss… You never told Kasyr our plans, did you? He seems to think I was a willing worshiper of that thing and he had no idea that we had a plan to destroy it. This belief led him to severely wound me, in fact, which domino’d into the attack against Valrae- Things which could have been avoided I think if…” Quintessa shakes her head, trying to keep her voice from becoming accusatory. She wasn’t here to accuse Lanlan of anything. “Why didn’t you tell him, Lanlan?” Quintessa’s mask seems to break a little as she asks this last question, the exhaustion showing in her blue and yellow eyes.
Lanlan notices when she still didn’t compliment his coat. Even when he just complimented hers! For a moment, he had the look of someone preoccupied by a severe complication. He returns to attention promptly. He’s still wondering what kind of engagement this is going to be as she begins to connect dots to him. As she gets into the parts that truly pertain to him, he begins to hold his breath. “Oh Quintessa…” he sighs, his voice a mix of regret and confusion. His shoulders slouch somewhat as if burdened by the weight of the truth. “I wondered what he would tell you, since he didn’t have nought but the harshest of words to offer me in explanation for his attempted assassination. I do understand the pain you must feel, the hurt in your heart over thinking that you were betrayed.” He takes one more look at his cigarette before squashing its ember in the crystalline ash tray, and then he returns his gaze to hers. “But you weren’t betrayed by me. You see my dear, dear Tessa, I did inform him of your true allegiance, and the necessary sacrifice you made for our cause. The sacrifices you were still making!” A practiced flicker of sorrow flits across his eyes as he relates his version of the truth. “He was too blinded by doubt and prejudice and petty revenge to take my words for what they were! He must have suspected some sort of trickery or…” He waves his hand dismissively, and then uses two fingers to cover his mouth, as if protecting Quintessa from words that would be even harder to hear. “I would never have allowed such harm to come to you if I suspected he harbored such doubts.” He hardens up a little, a glimmer of valiance showing in his shaded eyes. “Of course if I knew, I would have tried to intervene. Just as I did with Valrae.” With all that said, he isn’t sure if she should somehow try to provide consolation, or if he should attempt to change the subject, or something else. His posture, normally regal and rigid, softens as he bends toward Quintessa sympathetically.
Quintessa might have commented on his coat in simpler times, but her mind was weighted heavily with the burdens of survival, of trying to find where she belonged in the world now that she had nothing. It was a very nice coat though, an opinion she forms as her eyes lower down to it as he speaks to her. “So… you did mention it, he just didn’t believe you?” Her eyes flicker up to meet Lanlan’s, hope existing inside of them. For all the doubt that existed in her heart, for whatever reason she believed him. “That makes sense, you two seem to hate each other… At least that’s how he described it. He told me you weren’t cooperating with him at all- were even hostile.” Quintessa sighs, her helplessness creeping up again, “To learn that it’s all just a misunderstanding… that so much extra pain had been wrought because of it… Well, it’s certainly better than finding out you were trying to drive a wedge between Kasyr and I.” She lowers her head again. “I just thought of all people he… He would know the real me. He would be the one to save me.” Quintessa chuckles to herself, quiet and painfully before she leans back with a smirk to spite the pain and disappointment she felt. “Well, it’s all done now. I just wanted to ask you directly about it… And now he’s invited the world leaders to a summit.” She changes the subject, an attempt to escape her emotions. “Are you planning on attending?”
Lanlan sighs again when she seems to take him at his word. “Of course I told him. He either didn’t believe me or…He didn’t think it mattered.” He smiles sympathetically and then leans back in his chair, sliding another cigarette from his sleeve to his fingers. It seems to light itself as he draws against it with his lips. “I hate that he does all these terrible things and is continually forgiven, that nothing is done to rectify his destructive and violent betrayals. I don’t hold any illusions about what he is,” he says matter of factly. “Maybe,” he suggests quite daringly, “it’s you who doesn’t yet see the real him.” He doesn’t directly address whether or not he wants to drive a wedge between Kasyr and her, or anybody else for that matter. Rather he seems resigned to the unwillingness of others to see what he perceives as the truth. But he easily accepts the change of subject to that of the summit. “I will be there. If only to correct another mistruth put forth by…Lefty? Can you believe that outlandish idea that Caluss -never- even existed is actually gaining traction!” He dashes the ash of his cigarette against the rim of the ash tray derisively, as if it was the audacious notion itself he was trashing. “From the very depths of ignorance. And to deny all my sacrifices and yours and everybody else’s! And our final triumph.” He eyes her expectantly for a reaction, knowing that in some way, this actually might benefit her image. If Caluss never existed then certainly she couldn’t have betrayed anyone! She might even have the most to benefit from such a wild idea.
Quintessa seems to somewhat sink into her chair as she takes a long drag from her cigarette, considering what Lanlan was saying about Kasyr. Was he right about him? Quintessa’s own feelings were so mixed up and conflicted she didn’t know what to think anymore. She didn’t know what drove her to seek his approval. “The damage he inflicted upon Odhranos’ body when we retrieved it from Ernest…” It had disturbed her somewhat. The plan was to hold him still, not to cripple him, Kasyr had been overly excessive then too but Quintessa had not criticized him about it. “Well, it gives some credence to that claim…” She seems to cheer up when she discovers Lanlan will be at the summit, pulling herself from the depths of the chair somewhat. “Good, Xalious needs a voice at the summit and I know you will be a fine advocate. As for Lefty…” Quintessa scoffs, shaking her head, “I’ve unfortunately stoked the flames of mutiny… And Saorsa before me when she originally made the public statement that Caluss wasn’t real, although I think at that point people were still trying to keep his existence secret. She likely believed her own words, but now? It’s clear Caluss existed, to deny it is to deny that the sun rises in the morning and the moons dance in the night after it sets. Lefty, and those that follow him, are not honest brokers. Their claims are made in bad faith so I must also come to the summit to denounce them. I have already asked Kasyr for permission to allow me back into Vailkrin.”
Lanlan lays off of Kasyr for now, considering the state it was sending Quintessa into. Anymore bludgeoning with his truth would only make her grow defensive. But he can at least agree with the statement about Odhranos. The brutality there was unheard of and undermined all the efforts Lanlan put into capturing Ernest and exorcizing him safely without harming the body of his friend. “Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to forgive him for that. No doubt it contributed to Odhranos’s long stay in the other realms.” A baseless assertion, but one that probably made sense. Lanlan pulls the cigarette to his mouth as Quintessa confirms that she did contribute to the movement’s rise. “Caluss had been haunting us for years from Xalious to Tristoth to Cenril…The evidence of its existence is plentiful and irrefutable. Now and then.” He exhales a last plume from the draft that had been twisting out with his words. “I don’t think I can believe anyone would be so stupid as to believe that It didn’t exist.” He crosses his hands on his lap when he isn’t actively smoking, and his posture altogether becomes bristly. Almost spiky, like he was anticipating a verbal attack soon. Callously, he begins again, “I think if that woman is still among your servants then it would be best to sever that. Loyalty to such a person would only prove to hurt you further.” The last of Quintessa’s words were perhaps the noisiest burden in his mind now, understanding that they were clearly closer allies again than he surmised. Or could be. Yet he appears to be elated. “Oh you have! How wonderful! I know that is the one place you would prefer to call home, isn’t it? And how has the king decided?”
Quintessa raises an eyebrow when he suggests Saorsa be removed from her service, a claim that provokes not a verbal attack from her but a string of laughter. “Oh no, she took her opportunity the night Caluss entered Vailkrin to raid my treasury and escape with a third of my personal guard. She was last spotted leaving through the Portal to Milous and after that her and Captain Sawtooth vanish- no trace of them. They could be in Kregus now for all I know, but it matters not. Her time will come eventually…” Quintessa brings the cigarette to her lips, sucking on it to keep it ignited as Lanlan inquires about Kasyr’s reaction to her request to attend the summit. “The King has granted me temporary stay from my exile. I will be a guest in Vailkrin for the summit and a day thereafter.” A tiny smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Seems the King would like me to stay the night.”
Lanlan seemed to relax all at once, throwing his hands up in the air. “Ah! Well then, good for you! And good for Saorsa I suppose. I’m a little surprised you haven’t caught up to her by now, but I guess there are other priorities.” A thought occurs to him, there seems to be only one likely place they would go to hide. “I bet they’d have a hard time escaping through Cenril or Xalious since at that time security was still on high alert. Have you looked in the desert?” That’s where he’d go, if he was so desperate. Not that he’d ever be so desperate again. The revelation that she was only staying for one night is mixed. It was probably good that they were being so cautious in reconnecting, but the way she tails her thoughts... “Ugh, what an odious idea. And what would your dear wife think if you were talking like this?” He’s perhaps too much of a prude to even bear the implication of a night with a creature, but in fact, he’s reminded himself. “And how is Karasu? I haven’t seen her since,” he makes several gestures swirling gestures that relate to the temporary madness of the strange affair in which she tried to kill him in the foggy forest. “There was that ‘training’ exercise and then I never heard of her again. How is she?”
Quintessa tilts her head to the side. “Hmm, the desert… I supposed she could have just as easily fled to the swamps as well. Good call- I’ll send some people out that way to scope it out.” When Lanlan speaks out about the repulsive way Tessa spoke about Kasyr’s invitation to the castle she laughs again, this time light and airy. “I suppose I’ll find out what she thinks about it soon; She’s invited to stay too.” The tiny smile present on her face slowly fades away as the subject fixes upon Karasu’s health and she sighs, unsure how to answer him. “The training accident,” The lie is spoken as fact, “She still has not figured out how to walk without her tail, which is perhaps for the best. Her being kept in the dark during our crusade against Caluss has left her bitter and distrustful. She needs this time alone to sort out her thoughts, she should not be rushing to get involved in things so soon.” That and Quintessa was concerned about how wrathful and coldhearted Karasu had grown. Now was not the time for the feline to be complicating their image by saying inflammatory things in public. “The only thing the two of us should be focused on is finding a new home, but as always I’m preoccupied in global affairs. It does not matter to me the state of my reputation as long as I can make up for all the damage I caused.” She pauses to take a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling a thick cloud that intermingles with Lanlan’s. “And what of Xalious? Do the people here still distrust me? I will fully understand if I owe the guild some form of reparations for what happened to the Xalious Tree. My intentions matter little in light of what almost took place.”
Lanlan nods. “Or the swamps! Though I think those are still somewhat inhabited by orcs, but maybe she could blend in,” he mocks, equating the ugliness of Saorsa’s soul with the ugliness of the orcs’ skin. “Very bold of him if I have any insight into what Karasu might think of him in this moment. Very bold or very arrogant, I suppose.” Karasu being in such a terrible way, even now after it seemed like so much time had passed. Or it felt like much. The world without Caluss seemed to be a new one entirely. “She can’t walk? My that’s…” he couldn’t help but sense the tragedy in this, to Karasu in particular. “She’s always been such an exemplary athlete I can hardly imagine…” In this case, maybe Kasyr isn’t so bold or arrogant as he initially suspected. The danger at least would appear different than he would suppose. At her commitment to reparations, Lanlan made only a knowing smile as if to say, ‘save it for the reporters’. Xalious however, was a serious matter. “Ah! Xalious. The guild I fear is not so very trusting as it was anymore,” he says as he rises out of his chair. He leaves his cigarette in its ash tray as he takes off his coat, facing away from Quintessa. As he held it before him, he was appraising it again. It was the orangest orange on the outside, and deep earthy brown on the inside. He turns out its sleeves and it becomes something else entirely. “There are ruptures here and there, secret alliances, even factions! Secret keeping is everyone’s second major now, it seems.” He seems almost bitter, as if they were jumping on his bandwagon. His coat becomes a deep blue-indigo, with accents of silver embroidery shaped like geometric figures, or even constellations. “And the village…” He wasn’t sure he wanted to admit this. “...They have much less trust in the guild as a whole than I can ever remember.” He says it as if it wasn’t a plague on him.
Quintessa decides not to think too much about where Saorsa might be, instead focusing on Karasu. “Oh, she absolutely despises him. She was there when he ripped a hole in my chest, there to pick up the pieces, at least. There to watch as Caluss berated me about how long it was taking me to recover. There to watch me wallow in agony wondering if this was part of the plan or if Kasyr actually meant to make me suffer. Of all the people on all of Hollow, none want to see him dead as much as Karasu D’Chath. I am certain of it.” Quintessa snuffs out the last of her cigarette. “She’ll recover. Her hatred demands it. What will she be like after though? I can scarcely imagine. You saw the destruction she wrought in the Fog Forest. She’s dangerous. Far more than I could ever be.” Her voice is a mix of worry and admiration. She wanted to see that powerful, scary version of her love again but was wary of what would happen afterward. Quintessa then watches as Lanlan raises, watching as the coat shifted colors, prying a legitimate smile from her black lips. “That’s a nice coat.” She mutters before she reaches into her robes for another cigarette, one that contained the specific herbs she was after. “The guild has always had its fair share of factionalism, but as long as us Magisters support you what does it matter? The only thing that could threaten your administration now would be if Odhranos woke up… though if you are worried about the village’s opinion it couldn’t hurt to give them some actual representation. There has never been an Archmage that treated the world outside of the Tower as people. You could be the first to set a new precedent regarding Xalious Village, the Burrows, and maybe even the Mountain Tribesmen residing north of here. It would do much to alleviate the worries of the common folk if they feel they are given a seat at the table.”
/ smiles on one side of his mouth, his mischievous side that can’t always be relaxed. “Does she hate him so much? She’s got at least one eye on the truth then.” He dons his coat then, which has much looser cuffs and longer tails. “You mean did he mean to kill you and failed or did he mean to make you suffer as much as possible?” Lanlan neglects to give his opinion since each of them seemed bad enough and he couldn’t decide which was worse. “Maybe she can learn to walk again, or maybe she can have a new tail,” he muses. “I bet the apprentice, what’s her name.” He legitimately can’t remember which name Ina uses when she’s in the Mage’s Guild. “Aya? She could help with such a scheme, and as it happens we did just defeat these -abominable- trolls…” Surely Quintessa will know of their legendary regeneration. The thought of imbibing something out of those morphic monsters was almost too graphic. The smell alone… “Never mind, horrible idea.” Then she finally compliments his coat, and he does a slight twist to show her the back. “Thanks, it’s new!” But the conversation quickly moves past. “It has always had its factions, that’s true. Back then it seemed I was always on the attack, always finding my way forward. Now I’m distantly aware that I should be on the defense, and I suspect…” He looked and spun around dramatically, holding his hand out as if for rain. “...another shoe is going to drop.” One of them already has, though it was still quite a big secret. Lanlan’s eyebrow twitches at the mention of Odhranos’s return. “Yes, if he returned it could be very…complicated. I suppose you’ve heard the rumor that he has?” So far, it seemed to be just a rumor. There’d been sightings of him before of course, but that was much sooner after his initial disappearance. For such rumors to be spiraling again was ominous. “I’ve been attempting to assuage their complaints. Or concerns,” he says regarding the townspeople. “They mostly want someone to hold to account. Maybe they just want to lament publicly, I’m not sure. ” Their victims have been many, and they were always mere casualties of geography or association. “The mountain people? You mean like that thieving imp?” He scoffs. There must be something else entirely for that creature. The hobbits were another thing, and he hadn’t thought of them. Perhaps he should pay them a visit after all…
Quintessa furrows her brow as she repeats the name “Aya?” Immediately thinking about Ina even though the name was wrong. It was close enough to inspire the image of the foxkin to come popping up in her imagination, her taunting ‘What’s wrong, cat got your tail? Oh… I guess not’ echoing in her mind. “Gods be good, Karasu will terrify her… But maybe she’ll have some insight regardless. I’ll inquire with her and see if I can’t arrange something for them.” When the conversation shifts to Odhranos, Quintessa inhales slowly, not sure she trusted the rumors. “Humans have common features. I’m certain it was just someone who looks similar to Mister Kerrigan.” Her tone becomes more grim as she adds, “I’m certain if the spell I cast upon his body finally takes hold and beckons his soul back you will inform me, correct? He is still technically my patient- I have a responsibility to look after him regardless how long he remains comatose.” Quintessa knows she is perhaps pushing her boundaries but her concern about Odhranos was genuine. “As for an appropriate target for their ire…” Her expression grows grim to match her tone. “Was the Ossian Order not a good enough scapegoat? Even the innocent people slaughtered during their hostile takeover can be blamed on them.. Why not just convince them all their woes died with them?” There was also one more issue Quintessa needed to bring up, which she decides to tack on at the end of this subject. “If you intend on accepting any Drow refugees you should probably start dealing with the discontent now before it grows to unstable levels.”
/ stutters a little, and then adds, “Or…whatever her name is. The foxkin with all her silly tools and potions and things. You may not have met her.” As for what might happen should Odhranos return, he can make any hollow promises he needs to, because he’s all but given up on it ever occurring. “Of course! Of course I would tell you, he is your patient.” Part of him wonders if simply disposing of the shell would make things much simpler in the long run. But then who would he talk to? “The Ossian order was a fine scapegoat at the time. It was of course they who turned them into victims and experiments. But then they were victims again. And there was the incident when Kasyr struck so many of them with lightning…they still claim to have wobbly hearts.” There was perhaps an unfortunate and low life expectancy for peoples connected to the Mage’s Guild, whether they chose to be or not. “And the drow should return home. I’ve set up a cornfield around their remnants of leadership, maybe they’ll respond. If they exist. Their former slaves…?” He turns up his palms to show that they were empty. “They had homes before their home in Tristoth I assume. Maybe they’ll return to them.” Dead people walking in every town! Lanlan wriggled his nose involuntarily at the imagining. Apparently he considers his hands mostly clean on this front.
Quintessa gives Lanlan a knowing look when it comes to Ina. “Oh, she certainly sounds familiar, but we are digressing…” The other subjects were more important to her. “Kasyr certainly leaves a terrible impression on people when he murders them wholesale… Maybe you can use that to your advantage? He’s already barred from the Mage’s Guild and forced to learn in Larket, why not just extend the ban to all of Xalious as a way of appeasing the small folk? Kasyr could hardly argue with the logic seeing how that’s exactly how he dealt with me.” Then the subject of the Drow and Trist’oth return to the focus and Quintessa takes a moment to think about how she wished to address the issue with the Archmage. “Helping the former slaves of Trist’oth is a far more noble endeavor than giving a hand-up to their masters… However, restoring global order is my ultimate goal. If you could perhaps put me in contact with some of the remaining community leaders I would be willing to offer assistance cleaning the city of any rampant undead. A small offer of goodwill from “Quintessa the Ear-Stealer” but an honest one all the same.”
Lanlan tilts his head curiously at Quintessa and wears a sardonic smile. "You want to *help* the Drow?" He continues to search for signs of the punchline, but when none comes he continues on. "Even if I can help connect you to them, that would be very irresponsible of me. Just the same way I would never recommend Valrae to assist a cause in Larket. Why would you want to help them of all people? Didn't they attack your castle in Vailkrin or something." He chuckles at the notion. There wasn't very much sympathy left for them it seems, if indeed there ever was. Living with the Drow meant your enemies were ubiquitous and invisible, and disguised as friends. Then again maybe it isn't so different down there. The ones he cares for aren't among those stranded in Vailkrin, either. Lanlan furrows his brow at the suggestion of issuing a further order against Kasyr. Despite the way he's been talking about him, they've been on good terms. It of course, doesn't change anything. "Xalious is the Mage's Guild, whether or not those in the village or anywhere else realize it." He taps his finger against the cigarette and knocks loose it's debris. He stares into the smoke as it swirls and shifts, imagining different scenarios that might arise. It would create a lot of work if he were to make an idea like that official. "Anyway the guards orders are to stop him wherever he is in this region. Not just to block him from the tower." He seems almost happy to reveal this, like he has a secret. "And surely no one *forced* him to work at that place. He chose to with me in mind. Nobody," he asserts with his eyes narrowed on Tessa, "is forced to work there." He sits back down in his seat, cunning to the potential of some slick and greasy gossip. "You've been employed there for a little while yourself now, haven't you? While officially they aren't our enemies..." He traces a circle on the table with his finger the same way he circles around his little inquiry. "They're not someone we want to be sharing secrets with. You know better than to do that don't you? Share our practices with them?"
Quintessa finds herself letting a heavy sigh leave her as Lanlan begins to point out how little sense it made for the changeling to want to help the drow, her notorious personal enemy. “Gods help me…” She hides her face in her hand as he continues. “I know, I hate the drow, but I have been tasked with restoring order to the city. It matters not to me that they are lying, capricious, vile marauders and vandals. If the underdark is overrun with undead then I am partially to blame for it. It’s my responsibility to clean it up.” She lowers her hand from her face to meet Lanlan’s gaze properly. “And if you can’t help me then I’ll simply do it by myself. I do not need the drow to consent to me clearing out Trist’oth.” When the subject returns to Xalious her posture relaxes. Quintessa always knew that the Xalious Mountains de facto belonged to the guild and she often boasted about their jurisdiction when she patrolled the roads as an apprentice. She has no reason to argue against this nor does she have a different view of the situation, she remains quiet as the conversation shifts to Larket. “No, I was not forced to join them either… I wouldn’t say I’m quite an employee but more or less a student. You won’t find me giving lectures there or anything, I simply enjoy using their witchcraft research department for improving my own studies in that field.” Quintessa shrugs, “I would never share secrets with them, however. The Xalious Mage’s Guild is the sole authority on these issues. The Larket Academy of Magics are hobbyists at best.” Her expression grows dire. “Why? Is there a problem? I assure you I’m there to extract their practices for us, not share ours with them.”
Lanlan finds the his questions surrounding Tristoth only technically answered, and waits for a further explanation. When it doesn't come, he concedes that she is probably at least partially correct, but perhaps erred in one or two areas. "And is that what I am? A 'lying, capricious, vile marauder and vandal'? Then maybe you shouldn't mind at all because a great many people also believe the same to be true of you." He smiles very artificially, almost uncannily in how fake it is. Clearly he's managed to take a fair amount of it personal, but the mood doesn't last. He doesn't actually disagree about them, but it was tactless of her. "It's not really a task that can be done by one person, Quintessa. The situation below is as bad as the one in Vailkrin. Perhaps even worse without any stable leadership. No leadership at all as far as I can tell." He taps the butt of his cigarette over the crystal ash tray before bringing it again to his lips. "Which is what I've been trying to amend. So no, I can't help you. Not yet. Soon I hope, though I still don't quite understand the urgency you feel." But maybe he was beginning to. "Anyway who has given you this task? Kasyr wouldn't risk an incident with the underdark. Unless he was sending you to die." He chuckles callously at the notion, not for an instant believing it could be true. "Well, you don't have to tell me, it's none of my business anyways and if you succeed, well it'd be to my benefit."
When it comes to the matter of the Larket academy, he similarly seems much more in control of his emotions. No matter what he says, some part of him was still attached to the underdark. But it wasn't just that. The issue of Larket needs to be handled much more carefully. He responds amicably, "No! I didn't say there was a problem! Well, maybe a small one." He smiles reassuringly as he dabs the cigarette. "Larket is something like…" he gestures meaninglessly as he searches for the right analogy. "It's something like a plague city, isn't it? Of course you're allowed to visit and stay there and make friends with all the many infected who are there. But then all of your friends back home will wonder if you too have been infected. " In case that doesn't make his point clear, he goes on, leaning in close enough to whisper, as if he didn't know who else might be listening. "It may not affect me personally. But you tried to kill Valrae, and now you tell me that you're studying under the people who burned her alive." Then he leans back again and takes another drag of his cigarette, and casually glances toward the entrance to this little hiding spot.
"But you say that you've been extracting their methods in your time there," he concedes. "Never mind that they almost certainly use live subjects, or at least the mutilated corpses of those they've recently murdered. Never mind that their research must be devoted to inflicting the most pain and death upon your friends' people possible." He sighs at the difficulty of allowing all those things long enough to ask his question. "Tell me what you've learned that can help us."
Quintessa nods her head slowly, timidly even, knowing that people likely said worse about her. “Well… I’m certainly not a marauder at least…” She relents, frustrated. “You’re right, I cannot do this by myself, but I have to do *something*.” When Lanlan asks if it was Kasyr who tasked her with this she nods again, “Who else? He said, verbatim "there's still much to do in Trist'oth. I want you to coordinate with them in reclaiming that space. I believe Lanlan and others from the mages guild are doing so.” That’s all I know.” Quintessa didn’t mind being honest with him. She was far beyond feeling the need to scheme against him after what they had been through together. When the subject changes to Larket, however, Quintessa seems more confused than defensive.
“Plague city?” Quintessa shakes her head at first but then she realizes what Lanlan is trying to say, “I see,” She might wince a little bit when Lanlan brings up that Valrae was burned there and that the people who did it to her were likely the same she was learning from. “Well, my Archmage, Larket is a kingdom filled with lots of folk. Some of them agree with the king and many others do not. I will not condemn an entire kingdom for the actions of Macon, especially when that happened when I was a child- I don’t even know the full story. Regardless, I do not think Larket is as bad as people think. Sure, they conduct human sacrifices and the pain they have inflicted upon us witches cannot be denied, but I think I can better serve the right side if I can remain embedded as an ally. Does this make sense?”
Unfortunately Quintessa can only shrug when Lanlan asks her what she’s learned so far that can help them. “Nothing much,” she confesses, “They are just a school- and not even as good as ours. They basically know the same things we do.”
Lanlan stares incredulously at Quintessa, almost unwilling to believe that Kasyr would assign Quintessa to seek him out to help the Drow. “A good way to sabotage the effort…?” He isn’t even sure if that were true, but there must be some reason. The perplexity is still all over his face, sourly, as if causing him confusion was insulting.
It seems to remain during her logic surrounding her work in Larket. “Even if we allow that the people of Larket are actually kind and gentle folk (why would we), there is still the matter of allegiance and perception. Cenril is staunchly against Larket, and they are our closest allies.” He was talking in grand terms, but of course he meant that Valrae was his closest ally. He didn’t have to imagine what she must think of this dubious arrangement. “Even if we currently have not declared our opposition to them yet…” He wouldn’t make claims about the future. But anyone who didn’t think that another shoe would drop on them, wasn’t paying attention. They might even be the ones to throw it.
“The knowledge that you are esteemed enough to have access to as a magister is ostensibly exposed. Privileged information that is obtainable only from here is our most valuable property. From your own mouth I hear that this exposure has earned you nothing in the way of information that could be useful to us. Useful to anyone! Even yourself!” He jabs his cigarette out into the ashtray. “So if that’s true, what benefit could there be to having someone who is sympathetic to our once and future enemies embedded with no further objective.”
Quintessa shakes her head when Lanlan suggests that Kasyr has sent her to sabotage the efforts to help the drow. “Lanlan, he’s an evil bastard, sure, but he’s not an idiot. He realizes the longer the situation in Trist’oth progresses without anyone doing anything about it the more it will destabilize Vailkrin. *I* knew it, that’s why I warned everyone that the raiders were coming and tried to stop them at our borders, but Kasyr wanted to help them- A group that would happily enslave and sell us to the Archmosian Empire… if they were still around. A vampire with a bleeding heart… It's rather disgusting. Having said that, if you will not help me, just say it and I’ll report back that I am not permitted to assist you with this. I’m a liability when dealing with the drow, I know it to be true.”
When the conversation shifts back to Larket, Quintessa seems to stiffen. There were things she could not admit to Lanlan, not because of any personal reasons, but because she was bound by secret to the Syndicate of Shadows, the true reason she was in Larket. The changeling taps her painted fingernails against the top of Lanlan’s desk as she thinks, a sinister energy expressing itself in her aura. Quintessa is annoyed, but she does her best to suppress it when she parts her lips to speak.
“Lanlan, I’m only going to say this once. It’s a dangerous thing to repeat and even saying it now could be problematic for me in the future but…” Her index finger raises in the air with a surge of magic and then a loud pop as a translucent, ethereal bubble appears around her and Lanlan- A simple anti-divination spell to keep her words a secret. “I’m embedded in Larket not to extract their secrets or to spy on Kasyr, those goals are tertiary. The real reason I’m there is… “ Quintessa glances over her shoulder as if to make sure someone wasn’t peeking in on their conversation. “Revenge on King Macon. Revenge for Val and many other things.” The look in Quintesa’s eyes is serious and sincere, “And I have worked tirelessly to gain Macon’s trust enough to allow me the freedom to move back and forth in his realm for this purpose. Please… do not jeopardize our efforts against him. If need be I will swear a magically binding oath that will not share our secrets or I will attempt to wrestle some secret free from Larket for you but I… I cannot abandon my mission there. Please understand.”
Lanlan can hardly believe his ears, and he sits unblinking as Quintessa spins her tale further against Tristoth. “The raiders…?” Ultimately, he decides that the only thing he can do in the face of such bold lies is keep his thoughts private. She need not know his role in protecting what remains of the drow. “As I’ve said, I can’t help you with the remnants of Tristoth, and I’m not sure why Kasyr thinks I could. My connections, as you know, were through the First Daughter.” He says it as plainly as he can, shedding no hints of remorse or regret. Though it does seem somewhat practiced. “You may report it however you wish of course. Helping their former slaves return home or even to find new ones seems at least as worthy a cause.”
In her defense of his insinuations and threats regarding Larket, Quintessa has perhaps told him more than she meant to. Her true loyalties lie elsewhere. In response, he tries to appear yet more affable, and a genuine and sincere smile seems to stretch across his face. “My dear Quintessa! I’ve done nothing to compromise you, have I? And I have no intentions to,” he says, in a consoling tone, and he laughs somewhat lightheartedly, “I’ve been telling you this whole time that Macon is dangerous and though ostensibly, the Mage’s Guild is something of a tenuous ally, that doesn’t speak to my feelings.” Then he draws back inward and his brow furrows in confusion and some degree of hurt. “But…you don’t want to work together with me on this?”
Quintessa can’t help the way she reacts when dealing with the drow. Her entire life they had been her enemies and Gevurah’s plot to use the Mage’s Guild as her personal army and kill Quintessa during the Red Skull Arena had only inflamed those feelings. At this point in her life, with absolutely zero reason to think otherwise about their people, Quintessa still very much hated Trist’oth and thinks she’s got fair reason to believe so. “First daughter?” Quintessa has no idea what that means, “Nevermind, don’t worry about it. I’ll just tell him you cannot help me, that you have no clout in Trist’oth, and that I don’t want to help a bunch of slavers anyway. I’m going to focus my attention on the displaced slaves- the real victims.”
When the subject returns to Larket, Quintessa slowly withdraws her finger and ends the spell with a secondary pop, her posture relaxing somewhat. “I know Macon is dangerous… Which is why I’m telling you I have no actual loyalty for him. I’ve sort of been using our tenuous cooperation with the Academy of Magics as a foot in the door, and that unfortunate business in Cenril… He still thinks I actually meant to kill Valrae so that as afforded me much goodwill in Larket.” She parts her lips to smile at Lanlan, “Of course I’ll work with you… It just sounded like you were trying to keep me out of Larket in general so I became defensive. Forgive me.”
Lanlan at first takes the insult on the nose, immediately tensing and bristling at the idea that he'd have no clout... Anywhere! Never mind in Tristoth. But then he quickly calms. Connections to Tristoth have historically weighed him down. "Also tell him I say he's ugly and stupid, and then he'll have the whole truth." He wonders if this most important message would get passed along, and imagines Quintessa telling him. 'By decree of the archmage, you are displeasing to look at', she says in his mind. The day dream brings a nice easy smile to his lips.
Larket again, and he's still not sure what to make of it. Time would force his hand eventually, but for now he remains partly indecisive. "Then I hope you would share any intelligence won from their side with us," he concludes. "As you come across it of course." The issue of her attack on Valrae was yet even more confusing for him to discuss. "It doesn't surprise me at all that he thinks that. I think everyone does. You hexed her with wasting wounds that wouldn't heal and only worsen, and only let up the attack when she bound her fate to yours." His countenance was humorless, but suddenly shifts dramatically to return to amicability. "But it's in the past, and what can be remembered can also be forgiven." Then he rises out of his seat and starts walking towards the exit. "We both know who Valrae's true enemy is. But oh! Imagine if we knew what their latest means of harming her were? Could we not then also prepare a defense? I think if you could help us understand this, then it would be much easier for all of us to focus on the future instead of the past, don't you?"
With that bit of advice, he would guide her towards the exit from his cubby and back into the towers reception area. Moments after when she might look back, the new cubby carved in the stone wall would be gone, replaced by monotonous stone wall. As if it never existed at all.