RP:The Cost of Forgiveness
This is a Mage's Guild RP.
Part of the The God of Undeath Arc
Summary: Valrae calls upon Quintessa to discuss matters between them and ask for her help in creating a new magical artifact that will shield her from Caluss.
Mage Tower
This room is huge, and the entire place is covered in blue and white marble, with many torches and eight pillars reaching up to the ceiling to reinforce the room above, and keep the tower standing. The columns are covered in mystical runes, probably magic to keep the pillars strong, making them able to withstand pressure that normally wouldn't be possible. In the center of the room, there is a spiraling staircase made of glass, and also inscribed with the same type of runes as the pillars, leading to the higher levels of this magical tower. Next to the stairs there is a small desk here with a sign on it. At the top the sign reads... directions for all new mages. There is a door to the south, and you now notice that it too, is covered in the strength giving runes, that leads outside and a door to the west leading to the dormitory, a place for young mages to rest after their studies here.
Valrae's Office
Valrae || When Kafzhash rose over Xalious, it painted the clear sky with burning shades of orange and red that bled into star dotted indigo. The world below was a dazzling vista of dramatic peaks covered in thick blankets of glimmering white snow. This was the view that Valrae enjoyed as she took her morning tea. Her hair was free and damp, her simple gown’s skirts a pool of honey crushed velvet around bare feet. She wore no makeup and no jewelry, only the fresh and dewy complexion that was lent from skin potions and cremes. And perhaps a touch of glamor, for she was a vain creature at heart. Despite the deep winter chill, the window above her swan backed settee where she sat was thrown open. Frigid mountain wind had chilled every corner of the room, bringing the crisp and watery scent of winter and the smoke of the nearby villiage’s fires with it. It lifted the freed golden waves of her hair as she tilted her face toward the watercolor sky and meditated on the day ahead. She’d sent an apprentice to fetch Tessa, though the hour was early. The adjoining room of her office suite where she did most of her craft work had been cleansed and made ready for ritual. There was a fire burning in the hearth that valiantly tried to beat back the chill as it simmered a mixture of orange, vanilla, cinnamon and spiced wine in the large cauldron suspended above it. Her family’s book of shadows balanced on her knees, open but ignored as she brought her paper thin tea cup to her lips.
Quintessa had found sleep uneasy since coming to Xalious, more so than usual. Being away from Karasu made her anxious, and the knowledge that Caluss would be searching for any trace of the changeling lingered in the back of her mind. She sits on the edge of the bed she had brought to her office, scribbling her thoughts in her journal, dressed in layers and layers of thick black and red silk robes, dark circles under her eyes staining her pallid complexion a light purple. The knock on her door startles her, but she knows there is nothing to fear here in this tower. It’s just a message from Valrae to come meet her, passed on by an apprentice. Grabbing her satchel, alchemy belt, and silver pipe, Quintessa slowly makes her way to the Red Witch’s suite, barefoot and in loose robes. A slender hand balls into a fist and gently raps upon Valrae’s door. “You called for me?” Her voice is firm but hesitant, unsure why she’s been summoned. If they have discussed the ritual prior, Quintessa's stress has caused her memory to lapse. “I’m actually glad you did- There are some things I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”
Valrae sat her teacup on the window’s seal and closed the book of shadows as she stood. The heavy ash door of her office opened at the wave of her hand. “Good morning,” The witch greets Quintessa. The polite smile affixed to her lips was one born of habit and perhaps a bit shallow. “I hope the hour wasn’t a major inconvenience.” She crossed the room to perch in front of her desk. “Would you care for tea?” Regardless of the Changling’s answer, the witch would wave her hand again and send the enchanted tea pot into its quiet, busy tinkering as it floated on invisible hands to prepare a fresh pot of lavender tea. “I was hoping we could discuss a few matters as well. The first of which, I would like to address what happened between us in Cenril. The second, which I currently consider more pressing, is addressing how we’ll keep you safe and hidden from the abomination god.” She didn’t need to speak his name. “While I’ve worked to ward the entirety of this guild and a few other locations against his eye, I fear that even with the aid of my crystal skulls the matter is exhausting. It’s also obvious. Eventually, these blind spots will become targets. I was hoping that together we could create something more self-sustaining and more cunning.” She pauses for a moment, crossing her arms around herself as she tilts her head. “This will likely require blood. I could attempt to persuade you, coerce you or otherwise use some means of manipulation regarding the powers that be from our esteemed guild… However, I think that the strongest magic is made willingly. If you are not interested, I will accept that answer and continue my own efforts to shield you from the likes of Alithyk Caluss. That is to say, you are free to choose with no threat or fear of retaliation.”
Quintessa grins sheepishly at Valrae. “It’s never an inconvenient hour for me,” She slowly steps inside, taking in the scent of orange, vanilla, cinnamon and spiced wine. “Yes, I’d love a cup of tea. Thank you.” Quintessa continues to step closer, looking for a place to sit and talk with the Red Witch. “Of course, that’s exactly what I wanted to talk about.” She sinks down into her chair, the guilt of her actions creeping around her heart like a thorny vine. “We need to talk about what happened in Cenril, yes… but Alithyk Caluss *is* a much more pressing matter. I… I know what it will do to me if it finds out where I’m hiding. By now its agents have told it I’m alive, certainly… But I think the power of the Xalious Tree is blinding to Caluss, and thus makes it harder to detect me here. In this aspect, the blind spots were always being targeted…” Quintessa’s mismatched eyes flicker up to Valrae’s when she speaks of a more cunning and self-sufficient way of avoiding the demi-god’s wrath. The corner of her mouth twitches into a smile. “Blood? You had my curiosity. Now you have my attention.” The changeling leans closer with grim enthusiasm. “I’m not shy about bleeding- Go on. Tell me more about your plan.”
Valrae watches Quintessa with dark eyes as she takes her seat. Her smile was still firmly in place, friendly and surface level. It warmed only when the other woman seemed to agree, her interest in aiding her in this new matter reminding the witch of the friend she once felt she’d known more closely. Some connection that had been severed the night she’d run a blade through her shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it.” She replies, pushing off of her desk. “Follow me.” The tea that had been offered would appear, floating toward Quintessa in its dainty powder blue cup as they passed into what she’d been affectionately calling “The Craft Room”. The adjoining room was a previously vacant office. Valrae had convinced a few eager apprentices to help her install a doorway between the pair of them in an effort to expand her space. While she hadn’t asked permission to do so, she felt confident she could ask for forgiveness from the Archmage later. It had its own wide hearth, an elaborate piece of stone artistry depicting women dancing with arms raised and heads thrown back. That had been imported from Larket. A fire was lit here as well, this room considerably warmer as the wide windows had remained closed. The stone walls were covered in herbs hung to dry, shelves crowded with crystals and potions. There was a circle of silver poured neatly onto the floor, as well as several runes carved into the raised stone altar at its center. There were wide, dark oak tables chipped and scarred from use crowded with all manner of spell components, talismans and other half completed projects and an apothecary hutch crowding one wall. On the altar, there was a small golden statue of an unnamed goddess, her hair long and crowned with three moons. Her hands were raised to the sky, gently holding an armlet. The remaining crystal skulls sat with their empty eyes facing toward it in a circle. “Previously,” The witch begins, walking toward the altar. “I commissioned a few pieces to enchant against scrying. Smaller pieces that could be worn as everyday items. I think that together we could create something just as powerful. Something to keep you from his eye. We’d just need a bit of blood.” She tilts her head toward Quintessa, motioning gently to the armlet. “What do you think?”
Quintessa raises to follow, plucking her tea from the air to test the temperature. When the changeling enters the “Craft Room”, her eyes widen with wonder, like a child in a toy store, her fingers twitching as she imagines running them across the many mystical objects that adorned this place. Quintessa’s attention only returns to Valrae when she mentions the creation of anti-divination objects. “Hmm, that explains it…” She murmurs, remembering the entropic void that manifested each time she tried checking up on Kasyr now. The warlock shoves those thoughts aside before she becomes sentimental, her mismatched gaze staring at the skulls. “If we can create an object that powerful with my cursed, mongrel blood, then what are we waiting for?” Quintessa’s eyes shift to look into Valrae’s, a determined luster coming to life within those blue and hazel irises. “You still saved me after what I did to you… For that I will trust you with my life. I’ll follow you into Perdere if that’s what I must do. How much blood do you need?”
Valrae || In truth, they’d need a bit more than her blood. Magic required work and it required sacrifice. The blood, shed willingly, was the sacrifice. The work started now. As the witch waited for Quintessa’s answer, she sat about the room working busily. She collected candles, black for protection and obscuration, purple for intuition and things unseen, white for purification. The bark of a rowan tree, sacred to witches for protection. An apple, the key to magic and knowledge. Yew seeds, poisonous but useful to ward against magic wielded against you. Blackthorn root to return evil to the sender. Wormwood for divination. Belladonna, for visions and the power of sight. As she collected the tools of magic making, she would offer Quintessa an explanation of each ingredient if asked. “Could you grind this?” The witch asks, passing the changeling a mortar and pestle filled with the belladonna and dried apple skin. And she laughed. “Mongrel is a harsh word.” She comments gently. “It shouldn’t require much. Nothing that would put your life in danger, anyway.” Her smile faltered a moment after. “No need for Perdere yet. You should thank Lanlan. I did it for him.” The admittance hung heavy in the air between them as they worked. She placed candles, set a cauldron of pine sap and wild yarrow oils. When she straightened again and turned back to Quintessa, her face was a carefully blank mask. “How did your involvement with Caluss begin?” Her tone was gentle, questioning and not accusing as she tilted her head. Her eyes were wide and dark as she watched, the only part of her that revealed the keen interest in which she waited for her answer.
Quintessa was an alchemist, so some of the magical properties of the herbs used here were not lost on her. She knew Wormwood was good for divination, and that Belladonna could grant second-sight, and even that blackthorn could be used to protect you from evil, but some of the other symbolic instruments, like the key and the apple were lost on her. Quintessa’s curiosity causes her to ask, and she picks up quickly after a simple explanation. Now that Quintessa had glimpsed the weave, subtle, symbolic magic made so much more sense to her. “Of course.” Quintessa expertly wields the mortar and pestle, her gaze softening when Valrae suggests ‘mongrel’ was a harsh way to describe herself. “I can bleed a lot before it will kill me,” Quintessa sighs forlornly, grinding up the apple skins and belladonna together. “I’ve had my throat ripped open by Hildegarde and my heart ripped out by Kasyr- I’m sure I’ll survive whatever you’ve got planned for me.” Quintessa falls quiet for a moment when Valrae asks when she first became involved with Caluss, letting the sound of grinding herbs fill the void. “In the beginning I didn’t know anything about Caluss,” she admits, “At first I thought it was some spirit of the Dark Lands, I- Quintessa growls at herself, disappointed with who she was back then. “I was a stupid girl trying to protect her lover from Gevurah- Trying to protect Kasyr, and for what?” She tries really hard not to cry. She gave up crying over him. “For nothing,” she breaths, holding out the mixed herbs for Valrae to take. “That was nearly four years ago now. A voice spoke to me in the Dark Forest, on the banks of the Black Pond, it promised me the power to defeat Gevurah in exchange for injecting the Holy Trees with this… stuff it gave me. A black liquid in a syringe. I didn’t know the significance of what it was asking me, so I agreed. I had to protect Kasyr because he couldn’t protect himself. I already saved him from the brink of death once and I couldn’t ensure I’d be there to stop it a second time.”
Valrae didn’t flinch when Quintessa recounted the trauma that had been inflicted upon her. Her eyes flashed with sympathy, something she attempted to hide behind the lowering of her lashes as she worked. She doesn’t interrupt the other woman, allowing her space for the answer and allowing herself the space to process it. It was interesting to her that Kasyr had been the beginning of her involvement with Caluss. When the revenant spoke of Quintessa, it seemed to her that the connection she shared with the God of Undeath was one of her more cardinal sins. The witch kept her surprise at Tessa’s confession of their emotional involvement away from her face and doesn’t speak her musings aloud. “Gevurah,” Valrae scoffs, “Lanlan claims she’s passed.” This was her only reply. Accompanied with the roll of her eyes, it was clear that Val hardly believed this to be true, no matter how much she might have wished it were. Magic, especially clever and powerfully woven, was tedious. They would work like this for a long while. Grinding herbs, adding them to the cauldron in a precise way, turning the wooden spoon in a particular direction with a certain number of turns and at a specific hour of the day. Valrae was careful as she worked, detailed when she required Quintessa’s assistance. Throughout, she would ask the other woman small questions. “Did Caluss threaten you?”, “Were his orders specific?”, “If you didn’t follow him, would that put your own life in danger?”. She seemed to be circling around another question altogether, turning over what had happened between them in her mind’s busy way. When they were nearly ready to start the ritual, the potion made and the candles lit, Valrae stood again at the altar and waited for Quintessa to join her on the opposing side. It was a little poetic. “Did Caluss tell you to attack me?” She finally asks.
Quintessa can’t help but perk up just a tiny bit when she hears the news. “Gevurah has passed?” She doesn’t believe it either, but she wants to. A form of psychological opium used to cope with the situation. A very tiny glimpse at an even tinier victory. Meanwhile, Quintessa was turning out to be a very good assistant to Valrea. Her personal expertise with potion brewing and poison making made her very suitable for this- she even knew most of the tools by name already and the ones she didn’t she took a moment to admire. “Oh yes, Caluss threatened me a lot. After I tried to help you cure the Xalious Tree and Caluss directly intervened and took me away… the mental torments it inflicted on me… It showed me what would happen, how it would trap my soul in my body and force me to watch it slowly rot away. How painful and helpless it would be. It said that if I did not do as it said, Khitti, Karasu, and Berrytram would all suffer this same fate as well. Before that moment I didn’t take Caluss serious- it was just some failed attempt at making a new deity. After that it gave me the gem that was connected to me and was using it to give me orders. After Kasyr attacked me Caluss demanded I retaliate…” Quintessa joins Valrae on the opposing side of the altar. “Caluss let me pick. I picked you.” There is no hint of deception in her voice. She’s being honest about choosing to attack her. “I knew I could make it look real. I could satisfy its urge for vengeance. And it worked. It placated Caluss long enough for us to rob it of another weapon… But I am sorry I had to hurt you.” Quintessa frowns at Valrae. She really does feel bad but she doesn’t know what to do with these feelings. “I was really impressed with your reaction though- turning yourself into a sorta spell-poppet? That’s insane- I loved it.”
Valrae laughs, the action releasing something that had been bound within the cage of her chest. The sound was light as a bell, echoing around the Craft Room. “So he claims.” She replies, savoring the wistful moment they seemed to share. The lightness vanished like shadows in morning sunlight when Quintessa detailed her experience with Caluss. The witch retreated again into her shell of careful blankness, only nodding as she answered all of the questions Valrae placed at her feet. Sympathy threatened to erode the barriers she’d placed between them. It failed entirely when finally, the answer she’d truly waited for was pushed between them. Several emotions warred for her attention. They passed over her like a cloud, moving through her dark eyes like a flashing storm. Quintessa had chosen her. The truth of her answer sent a phantom pain worming through her chest. The witch is silent for a moment. It wasn’t the first time she’d grappled with this unique experience, the one of someone she cared for attempting to murder her. Husdon had done the same once. If Valrae searched herself, she knew she would find an ocean of understanding and forgiveness for the younger woman who stood across from her now. It wouldn’t be a quiet one, and perhaps it would take her a moment to cross it, but it was a journey worth taking. “Insane and desperate.” She finally answers, her smile slow and with a new shyness. She started the ritual by anointing the crystal skulls, requesting Quintessa work in tandem. She placed her thumb on the bismuth skull, murmuring lyrically. “Si’naech dtiaearrai’dh íonn fhiachiceáil a’nan.” She worked clockwise, moving to the amethyst. The last was the emerald, which was placed in front of Quintessa and awaited her own magic. “In your own words,” She suggests. “Something like; May the unwelcome eyes that wish to see be plucked from their head.”
Quintessa could somehow sense the stab of phantom pain in Valrae, but she could not pull that knife back out now. She had decided to be honest with her and had to live with the consequences of her choice now. “Aye, desperate. Before that moment I had always underestimated who you were. That look I saw in your eyes. You would have died to kill me… I recognized that look.” Quintessa doesn’t have time to keep talking about it, she must continue the ritual. She works in tandem as instructed, watching Valrae and mimicking her methods of anointment. Her pale lips part to utter the phrase “Bydded i'r llygaid digroeso sy'n dymuno gweld gael eu tynnu o'u pen,” Repeating those words in the Alko tongue. She weaves her magic into the spell- Hag magic. Fae magic. The magic of dreams and nightmares that Quintessa manipulated in the material realm to achieve wonders was now provided freely for this ritual. A secret purpose that the changeling had been neglecting about herself for years. Something awakens in her bloodline magic, the urge to be properly utilized. “Bydded i'r llygaid digroeso sy'n dymuno gweld gael eu tynnu o'u pen,” She repeats, this time her aura igniting a soft lime green as her mana flows into the spell, encompassing the emerald skull Quintessa was tasked with anointing.
Valrae nods, offering her own honesty in that short moment before the magic begins. “I would have. I’m glad neither of us had too.” And then it was time for the ritual to begin. With another murmured word, the candles that had been placed lifted, rising through her will above their heads as flame sparked. The fire that had burned in the hearth died in an instant, leaving behind not even a curl of lonesome smoke. Mana filled the room, Valrae’s and Quintessa’s working in harmony, springing to the air around them so thickly that it lifted the curling ends of her golden hair. The room darkened, the shadows cast by the flames above them long and dancing in the erratic light. Valrae repeated her spell, her eyes flashing with their own fire as the magic filled her. The skulls clattered against the stone altar, humming as they answered to the call of power. They were hungry and still generous, offering the unfathomable dark power to the spell freely as she repeated the words again and again. They rose up, crystal mouths opening wide with an unholy sound as their endlessly black mouths spewed power into the room. It collected between the pair of women, circled as a visible tangle of near blinding white and vivid lime green light. Valrae continued her chant, directing the power into the armlet that sat at the center of the altar. It entered the artfully crafted jewelry with a thunder clap, pushing the golden strands of tangled hair from her face. “Now.” She directs, pulling the simple silver athame across her own palm before passing it to Quintessa. She held her hand out, the blood moving unnaturally to quench the jewelry that glowed with new magical heat. It hissed as it absorbed the sanguine liquid. “And again.” And they would repeat the spell, calling the power until it collected into the armlet. Quenching it with their own blood. They repeated this process nine times, until sweat dotted Valrae’s temples and glimmered like jewels on her brow and her body trembled from exhaustion. Until the candles were nearly burned down from their towering flames. Until Kafzhash hid behind the tall peaks of the Xalious mountain range and the sky bled orange and pink and deep purple. The skulls sank back down to the altar, the candles settled into pools of melted wax. The witch dropped her tired arms and used the back of her hand to swipe at her brow. “You should be the one to touch it.” She says, her voice thin.
Quintessa exhales long and steadily, giving the hungry crystal skulls as much of her mana as they requested- all of it if she had to. Time would not allow for that, however, as the silver athame is passed in her direction. She takes it slowly, a rare sense of reverence overtaking her as she brings it to rest against her flesh. “Fy ngwaed yn rhoi o'i wirfodd…” She whispers, following her heart to add the phrase before she runs the blade slowly across the palm of her crippled hand. Dark, sanguine liquid pools in her palm as she reaches out above the silvery armlet, the eyes of the ouroboros serpent staring up at her expectantly. Thirstily. Quintessa turns her hand over and allows the blood to trickle down, absorbed into the object in the same fashion as Valrae’s blood had been, changing the gem-eyes of the snake into blood-red stones of mystic power… but it isn’t enough. Valrae tells her they must do it again and Quintessa nods. No arguing. No asking why. Just duty and action. Once the day was gone and the magic finally weaved tightly enough to resist even Alithyk Caluss, they could rest. By that time Quintessa had shed her black and red robes, leaving only her chest wrap as they worked tirelessly. Her mana expended and her body nearly fully exsanguinated, the warlock hunches over the altar, carefully watching the piece of jewelry for something new to happen. Was it finished? Valrae urges her to take it, and her blood-stained hands inch forward to touch it. The metal is surprisingly cool despite it evaporating their blood hours prior. Quintessa lifts it up and brings it closer. She studies the snake’s eyes and it stares back at her, unimpressed. Quintessa on the other hand is beyond captivated. She can feel the energy humming inside of the platinum band, emanating from the two gems that served as eyes. “It’s…” The changeling is still trying to catch her breath but she feels reinvigorated simply holding this object. “Magnificent. I- I would never be able to create something like this on my own.” She looks over to Valrae, curious if she wanted to look at it too. It was only right- her blood, sweat, and tears had gone into it as much as Quintessa’s. They were bonded through this artifact now and the changeling was not lost on this fact. They were practically blood-pact-sisters as far as Quintessa was concerned.
Valrae moved slowly, the weariness of the work settling bone deep and causing her to move carefully. Her hand trailed over the still warm altar, using it to help keep herself upright as she went. She paused, standing close enough to Quintessa now that their shoulders brushed. “It is. I wouldn’t have been able to create it on my own either,” She admits, her eyes moving from the armlet to the woman. Her smile is slow. “Magic to stand against even the gods can always be created wherever women are working together. I truly believe that.” She leans back then, shaking the hair from her shoulders in effort to cool herself. The room was too hot now, as she suspected it might be. Her office would be cool and welcoming. “You should be protected now, even if you need to move from the tower.” She didn’t know what sort of parameters had been agreed upon between herself and Lanlan. “Until we can finish this.” Until they ended Caluss. Valrae slipped from the Craft Room to her office with a relieved sigh. The mountain air was a winter kiss upon her brow. She’d had the kitchens prepared to prepare a small supper of hearty winter soups, a loaf of herbed bread and wine, to be sent up to them for when the work was finished. It waited on the small table that sat in front of her hearth and the two high backed chairs that faced it. The witch wasted little time preparing it for both of them. “If you’d like to stay for supper…” She rolls her shoulders, nodding toward the food that awaited. “I’ve kept you all day but it might be nice to share a little more company?”
Quintessa slips the armlet onto her right arm, the low fuzz of mana surging through her body a moment before she finds equilibrium. She lifts her robes from the floor and drapes them over her shoulder, following after Valrae slowly. “It’s almost over,” she says, but was this simply more psychological opium? Quintessa had quite a lot of trauma to cope with and she would cling to any hint of victory. Her sanity is relying on it at this point. They slip from the Craft Room and Quintessa fetches her belongings, the silver inlaid pipe she had stuffed in her bag being the item she was specifically seeking. “Supper?” Quintessa was just preparing to leave but… Her stomach growls in protest. She can stay for a little while longer, right? “Actually?” She says, her pipe hanging from her mouth, “That sounds fantastic.” She returns the pipe to her bag and slings it over her shoulder to hang on the back of her chair as they eat. The smell of soup and bread were far too much to resist, and it sure beat the hardtack rations she had brought from Vailkrin. “It’s been so long since I had a real meal- plus this gives me the chance to tell you all my ideas I have for Titans of Winter!” If Valrae was hoping for a quiet dinner, she wouldn’t find one with Quintessa. She’d keep her distracted for the rest of the evening talking about whatever popped into her head. That was the real way she coped with the world.