RP:The Gospel Truth

From HollowWiki

Summary: Quintessa and Kasyr talk about Gospel, Dead Gods, the Drow, and the end of the world.


House Dragana

Towering over the abyssal forest, the dark mass of House Dragana is no less eerie than the vegetation, or lack thereof, in which it stands. The mansion's outer perimeters are flanked by the twisting trees and there are no gates to prevent the seemingly less desirable denizens of the forest from trespassing upon the property. A sleek, obsidian walkway runs from the house's entry to the path. The only source of light without comes form wrought-iron lanterns that are placed on either side of the walkway, spaced perfectly from one another. Within them, an eldritch glow of a deep, verdant hue flickers. Those brave enough to approach House Dragana's doors will be greeted with iron knockers bearing blackened skulls, their eyes set with emeralds that glow with the same light from the lanterns. Within the house's walls, there is no shortage of decadence. Only the most elegant of furniture is placed throughout its rooms. A grand staircase of blackened wood leads to the upper levels, where rooms for those that reside within the house can be found. Midway up, the stairs split to the left and right, spiraling upward. Here, there is a landing with a set of double doors that leads to a large ballroom. The lower level of the house plays host to a dining area and kitchen, though rarely used, a grandiose library filled with grimoires and tomes, and a small museum of artifacts collected by the house's residents. Though there appear to be no candles to light the way, an ethereal glow floods the innards of the house, providing ample reading light - undoubtedly arcane in origin. Dark magic is weaved into the house's existence as a measure of protection.



Kasyr can't sit still. That's not to say moving around is really the best of the options at his disposal, though there is certainly something to be said about the restorative properties of getting something in your stomach and keeping it there. That latter part is bit of a work in progress, admittedly, but, the Kensai is doing surprisingly well , especially given that he's chased his food with some post infernal dreamscape whiskey. It at least made the constant threat posed by exhaustion a bit more palatable, since it carried the promise of sweet oblivion, rather then endless reruns of what should never have been. It's perhaps also why Kasyr's chosen to punish himself by engaging in a bit of training, if only so that the ache of his muscles as he reflexively cycles through stances and swings might better ground him in reality. In the simple discomfort of reality, rather then the agony his dreams sometimes promised.


Quintessa has for a long time maintained her morning and evening exercises of spell katas and drills. What started out as a small attempt to practice combat magic became an every ritual. As the hex blade retrieves her sword and bring herself down the stairs she fully expects Kasyr to still be in his room. To Quintessa's surprise, the kensai is outside already seeming recovered enough for training out on her yard. From the threshold of her manor, the changeling watches his movements, carefully remembering the way he swings his sword and assumes powerful stances. Quintessa was always impressed with the way he could handle a blade. "Mind if I join you?" the hex blades asks, the door slamming shut behind her as her spiked-heeled boots carry her closer to the object of her lustful affections. She doesn't wait for an answer before drawing her sword with a loud "Tân!" as an arc of fire whips from the blade and dissipates into the night air. "Rhew!" she shouts next, the flames dancing on her mundane katana quickly replaced by an icy energy that materializes into a gale as she swings her sword again. Trydan!!" She roars last and this time the blade is electrified, an arc of lightning sparking from the tip of her blade as she thrusts it in the same direction as her other two katas. Quintessa holds her sword there for a moment, electricity bouncing up and down her katana chaotically as her mismatched eyes drift back to Kasyr. "I'm surprised to see you up and training," she teases, "But I'm glad to see you. The world isn't going to sit around and wait for you like I will."


Kasyr slows down when Quintessa announces herself, his amber flecked eyes slipping over in her direction as she makes her way in his direction. There's something about the way she walks that brooks little in the way of arguing, leaving him little recourse but to observe as she undergoes her own personal training regime. Following the movements of another swordsman is almost instinctive to the kensai, as he perpetually seeks to hone himself, and to learn what he can from their art- and yet, he keeps finding himself distracted. Nightmare Quintessa, in all her nightmarish and scale ridden glory is still fresh on his mind, a haunting spectre which dances in the afterglow of the changelings spellwork. "Mmm?" He blinks, the image dispelled in the wake of being addressed, if only to resume his own movements, albeit far more deliberately, "I'm . . . resilient that way, J'suppose." Every so often, there's a crackle of energy that accompanies a particularily swift motion, and yet, they always end abruptly, like the throttles being cut short. "Et I'm honestly surprised you have, enfin."


Quintessa gives Kasyr a slight smirk as she returns her katana to her sheath only to draw it again in a lightning fast attack, the blade whistling through the cold air as the electrified energies cascade from it in a bolt that races for the tree line. The crackling of a lightning strike echoes out through her demesne as she returns the sword to her sheath again. "You're surprised?" Quintessa gives Kasry a reassuring smile. "I've not left your side since I rescued you. I'm scared Gevurah will turn up personally to finish you off. If she does, I'll be ready for that cave elf. Nobody attacks the Mage's Guild and gets away with it."


Kasyr sticks his tongue to the inside of his cheek, a look of wry amusement crossing his features at that particular demonstration. Enough so that he can't help but mirror it in his own fashion, his thumb flicking up against the guard of his Katana to pop it clear of the sheathe, albeit with a small kick of electrical energy meant to propel it with unnatural alacrity. His other hands already waiting to catch it, and with a small flourish he'd flick it forward into a half moon cut that ultimately ends with it back where it came in the very same motion. "Es that you learning, because I'm surprised you didn't do that when we first met." His expression turns rueful, however, his posture shifting to one less suited to fighting, and more to slouching, "I'm not sure, honetement. I'm still trying to figure out a few things, Quintessa. It's been a rough..." He can't help but roll his eyes, one shoulder hefting up so he can manage a halfassed shrug, "While, j'suppose. Et, I've, appreciated having a place here." As much as he can feel his posture softening as he addresses her, the bits of memory that his drinking hasn't been able to stress begin to bubble up anew, a fresh hesitation creeping into his voice, "Though, I'd appreciate it, if you didn't try to follow moi the next time I end up half dead."


Quintessa lets her slender digits slip from around the hilt of her sword as her hands instead are placed firmly on her hips. "I've been practicing," the baroness admits, "I was just an apprentice when we first crossed blades. If I fought you now you might be surprised with what I'm capable of." A hand moves up to lazily brush the hair lingering on her shoulder behind her back. "You'll always have a place here, mon amour. We've been through so much together already. Wars, genocides, things of a more... carnal nature. If I did not open my doors to you after all of that I wouldn't be much of an ally now, would I?" Quintessa is about to step closer to the kensai when his words halt her in her tracks. He didn't want her to follow him anymore? "I can't make that promise." the changeling says flatly, "If I didn't follow you that night you'd be dead right now. That's not..." she pauses to swallow, pushing down the lump in her throat, "That's not something I'll ever allow. Nobody is allowed to kill you." 'Accept me,' she wanted to add but decided against it. After all, Kasyr was already wary after that dream she invaded, she didn't want him to be too worried about her motivations.


Kasyr s' next draw lacks the flare of lightning, a more simple eloquence to the steely streaks that are painted in the air before him. It's a good distraction from the words she speaks, from memories that are almost tangible in the way they haunt the space between them, and remind him of the way it was absent once. It's neither the words nor the thoughts which cause him to falter, however- but flicker of emotion that lodges it's way into his chest, forcing him to acknowledge her again, and clarify his words, "I didn't mean - " He takes in a breath, trying to calm his nerves as he executes a swing, fluidly imitating the strokes she'd demonstrated prior in her Kata, in a mundane mirror of her motions. " It means a lot that you saved me, despite everything, et brought me here." A mimicry that's executed again, giving him something to hide behind as the words fail him, until he can finally quietly grasp hold of what it was he's seeking to say, "But I don't want you dying for me. Ive outlived too many people, Cherie. I'd rather not you be among them, Quin. Drinking poison es.. " But it's not just the poison, is it?


Quintessa hesitates when Kasyr speaks of drinking poison and she cannot stifle the guilt that she's feeling. First Mahri and now him too? "You don't have to scold me," she mumbles, her mismatched eyes falling to the ground. If Kasyr knew about her drinking belladonna extract did that also mean that he knew about her trespassing into his mind? Quintessa lifts her gaze to level with the kensai's once more. "I won't do it again," she promises. It wasn't a lie, she didn't have to anymore. She was confident she could invade his dreams once more if he dropped his guard enough to sleep next to her. After all, it had happened once already. "As reckless as I am, Kasyr, I'm not the one with the death wish. I want to spend as much time with you as possible... I won't go getting myself killed and spoiling my own plans. Even if... " she sighs, "Even if that means running away from a fight. I'll swallow my pride for you if that will really make you happy." A spike of anger twisted up inside her suddenly and she bares her teeth when she speaks these next words, "But if Gevurah shows her dingy face around here not even Vakmatharas can stop me from confronting her."


Kasyr 's stomach drops when she acknowledges the mention of poison, his grip tightening on his sword so hard his knuckles turn white. A part of him had been hoping she'd refute that statement, to look at him like he's crazy- anything that would have let him dispell that notion. Instead, he's left with something cold in his stomach, which seems to spread outwards- only abating when her observation of his death wish hits home. "It's complicated." The rest of it, however? That's simple, even if the emotions tied to it burn intensely, further twisting up the empath, and making it hard to focus on what he's doing. "I won't fault you for self-defense, or even revenge. ...I can understand the latter quite well." The image of Luffy writhing in obsidian sands, vaporizing under the baleful gaze of Ahr'Nuk, rests fresh in his thoughts- as does the action which took him so close to that hellish place, "I need you, to stay away from Gospel. That's all." It's easier to look at Quintessa now, when she's not wearing a dress of shimmering red scales, or adorned in ouroboros ornaments begging to be shed at the mage tower. "I. don't want to lose you- to it." It's a hasty correction, and one that sees him moving to adjust the distance between them, so he can try to resume the motions, and finish dissecting what he could glean from her earlier motions, without thinking too hard about what was behind them.


Quintessa furrows her brows, unsure if she could avoid Gospel even if she wanted it. She owed it so much already. Practically all of her success she attributed to heeding the commands of the Serpent Moon. "I-" she knew she couldn't protest, not to Kasyr, not when he was looking at her like that, "Not unless you tell me what it is... Everything. From the beginning." There is a hint of frustration building in part from the knowledge that she'd been kept in the dark about it. "Why is Gospel the voice of Arh'Nuk? How come nobody has even mentioned it?" The cold air blows through Quintessa's black hair, her dark locks gently tossing over her lithe form. "I'm so sick of nobody ever telling me anything."


Kasyr can execute the movements, but when he tries to coax forward the words he's seen and heard Quintessa say, they feel foreign on his tongue. Whether by virtue of some linguistic quirk, or the power contained within them simply refusing to form, he's left holding the sword in the space between them, only to finally resheathe the weapon once more. He hesitates only for a moment, before he extends a hand over towards her, his head inclining towards the door, "I think we might need a drink or few, Et touching on everything would cover close to a decade- so I think I'll focus on what's recent." He pauses for a moment, and then very carefull adds, "What I'd already been hinting at when we talked at the ball. Gospel es the voice of Ahr'Nuk, I think, because I banished it there. Because I had little other option of contending with it. It had grown too strong, by that juncture, et I could not risk it rampaging through Vailkrin." Whether or not Quintessa does accept the offer, the Kensai's going to take that moment to start his way towards the house, because quite frankly, he doesn't need to vent this to the world at large. "As for why noone would mention it- I am fairly certain that myself, Daath & Gevurah are the only people that know. Et Daath has a complete disinterest to it, aside from how it inconvenienced the guild. Et Himself, J'imagine." Considering his rapid departure from the Underdark, and subsequent loss of contact, he certainly hadn't attributed a large amount of importance on it, "Anyways. That's why I was in the underdark. Trying to ..resolve that."


Quintessa watches Kasyr struggle with the words the words of her spell, her lips mouthing the word 'Rhew' over and over again. She made a mental note to teach him the proper technique once more pressing matters were dealt with. "A drink?" Quintessa is hardly surprised, "Sure, let's go to the dinning room. I have a few things to choose from ready for us." With a wave of her pale hand, the doors to House Dragana swing open for the pair as she leads them inside. The red candles that burn on the dinning room table flicker lowly, already mostly burnt down to nothing the the light dimmy illuminates the plethera of chicken, potatoes, and onions that still sit on plates. "Daath," she repeats the name with contempt, "Useless magister. He probably ignored it because he couldn't control it. If you're not his puppet, he wants nothing to do with you. The same must apply to Gospel too." Quintessa plops into the chair at the head of the table and motions for her servants to pour her a glass of rum from the bottle that she and Mahri had broken into earlier that day. "So you went into the den of known megalomaniacs and expected them to help? I think all the drinking is turning your brain to mush, Kasyr. I warned you that they were up to no good. The only thing Gevurah is interested in is furthering her own goals. That and kissing the feet of her god." She spits on the floor. "The whole race can rot, for all I care."


Kasyr supposes there's a distinct wisdom in being led to a room where there is just alcohol, but also a healthy selection of food other than bread and cheese to nibble on. It at least provided a far more varied fare to inevitably soak up the excess of alcohol he makes common practice of imbibing. That said, while he does seat himself at the table, he's not quite as eager to dig in, the conversation and it's contents both arresting his attention and curbing his appetite for the moment, "Oh. I understand the folly aspect of my decision- but when the rest of your options for contending with an issue die, desperate measures look appealing, madamoiselle. Makes for strange, " He catches himself before he even starts to say 'bedfellows', his gaze flicking off to the side of the room as he spears a bit of chicken in front of himself. " et mercurial alliances." Better. "Helps that they have their own abomination they need to contend with. So, it's business as usual with multiple apocalyptic entities gathering strength, et moi without much sleep." The kensai pauses there, before carefully adding, "I can understand your hostility with Gevurah. But I expressly avoided trying to cause -her- harm. I'd quite like to not have to contend with her problems, too. It's not my area of expertise, enfin."


Quintessa holds her glass in her hand without drinking from it, her mismatched eyes never leaving the kensai for a moment. There's still a deep, cold, anger that resides within her heart when she thinks about Kasyr turning to the Drow for help. "Mercurial, indeed." The changeling's memories of being slapped by the matron are still fresh in her mind. She's about to speak more ills of the residents of the underdark when the subject of apocalyptic entities suddenly dominates the forefront of her attention. "Multiple?" the drink is brought to her lips but she still doesn't drink. "Don't tell me you banished Gospel's sibling on the other moon too." The corners of Quintessa's mouth twitch upward in amusement before taking a long sip of her alcohol. "Gevurah's biggest problem right now is me. She'd better stay out of Vailkrin if she wants to keep her head. The Dark Forest is a dangerous place with ancient evils even she cannot contend with."


Kasyr s' lips flatten into a hardline at the mention of the serpentine swords siblings, his expression growing colder as he continues to observe the changeling. The glib manner in which she redirects the conversation away, as though there's nothing amiss, venting her frustrations against the Matrons is all the more infuriating, if only because, "I thought I'd made it clear -not- to meddle with Gospel. That -does- extend to it's siblings. Which non, aren't on the moon, but are not toys to be tinkered with. We have a long, and violent history, and I'm trying not to have you get pulled into a segment of my life I'd -rather- remain buried. That I still intend to bury." The words come out more hotly than he intends, but at this point, it's all momentum, "Et no, Gevurah's biggest problem is a dead god that didn't get the hint to stay dead, et es currently busy gearing up to annihilate us all, whilst Gospel does...whatever the hell it's doing, honetement. Nothing good, but I've long stopped trying to fathom the exacts. Maybe we can try -not- to hearken to the apocalypse in faster because someone got hurt." It's about this point he realizes he's still has a piece of forlorn looking chicken speared on a fork, which might have been empathically clanked against the plate a few times as he spoke. The almost sheepish manner he settles the utensil back down is almost jarring against the heated expression that remains on his face even as he moves to push away from the table and get back to his feet, "This was a bad idea." That comment at least manages to elicit a barking laugh, the swordsman rolling his eyes and offering a sardonic shrug, "I mean, really- stabbing the illusionist for mouthing off about Luffys death was a bad idea, but here we are. Terrible ideas all around."


Quintessa is shocked when Kasyr becomes infuriated, her pale lips parting slightly as she narrows her eyes. The odd girl doesn't interrupt, she listens carefully. Were the things he was saying true? She'd known Kasry to hide things using double speak all the time but he had never outright lied to her. "Wait." Quintessa finally says as he stands, her glass of rum placed silently on the table. "Leave us." she commands her servants, her voice losing the bratty petulance that had tainted it the whole conversation prior as they all quickly file out of the room. "I said I'd stay away from Gospel and I meant it. I didn't even know it could have siblings, much less actually have them. That was a joke, albeit a distasteful one... I didn't mean to upset you." Her posture changes as her voice rings with a serious tone. Pale fingers move to lace within one another before her on the table before she speaks again. "And what's this about a dead god?" Could gods even die? "No more jokes. No more petty digs at the dark elves. Please, sit down and explain what's going on. Clearly, I'm ignorant of all this otherwise I wouldn't be so blasé about the end of the world." The comments about Lanlan would be left untouched. The changeling's affinity regarding the illusionist were yet to be determined, although the news of him mocking Luffy's death had docked him several points.


Kasyr steadies himself against the table, one hand splayed out as he listens to the change in Quintessa's voice. The sense that she's actually starting, or trying, to understand the gravity of the situation which has been weighing down on him- helps to keep him anchored in place, "Gospel's ...complicated. I could spend days talking to you about the nightmarish things it's capable of. But most of it would simply boil down to- it es -never- to be underestimated. ...Gevurah's god, however. That's." Kasyr's trying to find the words, and there's a very clear sense that he's trying to be even more careful than usual, "I'll avoid names, because they have a habit of drawing attention. But, there es a deity. One that you won't find in the traditional pantheon, et which holds domain over undeath." The look of distaste on his expression is so unfathomably difficult to miss, and also might serve as a slight distraction as he scoochs a bit closer to try and retrieve some of that rum, since he's feeling the need to pour out a drink, "Et might also have the traditional evil god brand style of whating to exert his influence et domain overall all of creation, plunging the world into everlasting undeath et servitude. Normal deity things." Kasyr really isn't drunk enough for this. "Gevurah's plan involved my problem- et I think, may have worked, but also may have led to an even worse problem. That said- I don't really have a backup plan. other than, probably die vainly when I inevitably fail to prevent Gospel from one day finding it's way back here in the far future." Kasyr could probably make a bleak drinking game out of the amount of city, continent and world endangering events he's involved in. His liver wouldn't survive it, to be fair, but then- he probably wouldn't be involved in these things, if he valued his life.


Quintessa stands as Kasyr speaks, moving around the table as her slender digits pluck the glass of rum from the surface and hold it between the pair. "I saw it," she says, solemnly, "In the dream. I felt its control over me. I felt the desire to please it, to do it's bidding... It terrifies me now looking back I-" She looks away for a second, embarrassed by her actions in the dreamscape. "It's not a game. I know that now." When the kensai progresses to the part about the God of Undead she cocks her head to the side, her mismatched gaze snapping over to him. This being sounded quite terrible. When he speaks of dying in vein Quintessa cannot stop her hand from reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Here," she places her glass in his grasp, "So, what, Gevurah planned on pitting Gospel against this god?" The changeling shakes her head, "What's to stop them from working together? Can we really count on the egos of super-powerful entities to do what we want them to?" Quintessa's hand moves from Kasyr's shoulder to rub his back, doing her best to calm him.


Kasyr is grateful for glass, a halfhearted smile offered to the changeling as he distracts himself with it's contents. It doesn't last long, however, if only due to the bleak ruminations which come on the heels of her acknowledging the dream, his gaze falling down to his own wavering reflection that's held in the rums surface. Still, there's a comfort in her proximity and touch, despite the subject matter, "Yes. Et, whilst I think there -could- have been a possibility, I doon't think it would have relished the chance of being enslaved to something it could not outlive or master. That's the aspect which I think lends the most credence to Gevurah's plan. But the possibilities of if it failed, or worked too well, are both catastrophic to consider." He glances up from his drink, thumbs settling on either side of the rim, "I am sorry for dragging you into this, you know."


Quintessa slowly nods her head as Kasyr explains the expectations he and Gevurah had when it came to Gospel and this mystery god playing nice together. "You'd know better than I," she admits, her mismatched eyes trailing away as her free hand reaches for the bottle of rum on the table. Her pale fingers wrap around the neck and she slowly fills the glass the rest of the way up. "I suppose when two apex predators enter a territory they try to kill each other to establish dominance." The bottle is set back down before Quintessa offers the kensai a slight smile. "If we are speaking of the end of the world and the enslavement of every living thing, I suppose it was only a matter of time before I got involved anyway. Eventually everyone is going to be involved one way or another."


Kasyr mulls over the full glass for a few more moments, before he finally drains its' contests and settles it down on the table, so he can properly brace himself against the afterbite, "Preferably later then sooner. Godlings have a bad habit of acquiring minions, enfin." The faint burn of the rum is welcomed as it begins to settle in, though the unintentional shiver that runs through him is more than enough to remind him of her proximity, and the touch of her hand, his attention flicking back to her expression, "Though, I think we may have already ascertained I don't always know what's best." She's granted a wry smile in return, even as he carefully moves to shift from leaning against the table, "Et for what it's worth, I'm currently lost on what to do."


Quintessa fills the glass setting on the table again, but this time for herself and not Kasyr. "Sit," she says again, noticing that that he was bracing himself against the table still before lifting the glass to her lips and taking a long drink. "Should I be wary of minions, then?" she asks, wondering if that's what Gospel was trying to do, make her into a minion. "I'm sure Gospel already has followers... But what about this new god? Do you think they've already reached out to expand their influence?" The changeling sighs before sitting down in the chair next to his, bring the glass up to take another drink. "The more I imagine the future the more it looks like we're all going to be caught in between the clash of these horrible things. How am I suppose to avoid it?"


Kasyr uses that request as the impetus to extricate himself from the changelings touch, a few more steps taken back, if only so he can pull out a seat near where he'd been fiddling with (his?) food. The piece of speared chicken still rests there, sad, alone, and unwanted. He flicks the fork for a moment, before his attention shifts back to Quintessa, "Likely. Calice de Bine. That god was heralded by virtue of some ...diligent followers. That implies it already has minions, et es only going to be growing from there. Et there es always those who are lured by power. The ambition of those that think they can beat the odds es something that es also immutable as a rule." The image of Nightmare Quintessa flickers at the forefront of his mind once more, coaxing his thumbs to drum against the table, "Honetement, I think your proximity makes it impossible to avoid you getting pulled in. I think the key es ensuring you don't get entwined in the machinations those creatures. That's a mistake I once made, et a very easy one to make." The swordsman pauses there, glancing off towards the doors of the room, "In fact, I have to wonder if that might not be part of Daaths Departure from the Underdark." Some of it, perhaps, might be tied to that bond he'd seen flare up between Lanlan et Gevurah- but for sentimentality to completely override a Drows Ambition? But the lack of murderous divorce rituals leans the Kensai towards a hasty departure, perhaps one coaxed onwards by either curious or compromised ambitions, "Gospels involvement has well et truly been buried asofar. Despite the widespread ramifications, et I've seen little put in place to curb the possibility, of well." The kensai pauses, and then stares very fixedly at the glass of rum at the table as he reaches an ephipany, "...I think we need to covertly find a way to warn people not to tap into Ahr'Nuk."


Quintessa slowly crosses her legs and she leans back in her chair, her head hanging over the back of the as Kasyr speaks, her long, black hair almost reaching the floor. "You know it'll take advantage of me," she admits, "It was using Arh'Nuk all along... I... I owe it for all of the guidance it gave me... The mystic protection it continues to give me even now..." The changeling rotates her head until a single pale blue eyes gazes at Kasyr from under her tangled bangs and a cruel smirk grows on her face. "You think Daath is running away, scared of the temptation? I have to admit, if not for you stopping me from giving in, I too would be tempted to reach out to whatever powerful being offered the most power." The smirk fades away as the seriousness of that statement sinks in. Hadn't she already made a deal with a powerful entity? "But how do we convince the Mage's Guild to not tap into the power of Arh'Nuk without telling them Gospel has corrupted it? If you think my involvement was complicating this, just wait until the most ambitious minds of the Mage's Guild all look upwards with plans on purging that corruption."


Kasyr s' expression quirks to something -very- akin to bemusement at Quintessa's display of self-awareness, though it grows a little more severe as she mentions 'owing' it anything, "Don't get hooked. C'est tout." Otherwise, he quietly takes in her assertion about Daath, as well as her comment in regards to the mages guild, waiting til she's finished to chime in with"I think, that it's possible he may be more likely to study these from afar, and waiting for an opportunity. Safe et secluded from the people who might otherwise -violently- oppose meddling in their business. I cannot think of any other reason to Ignore something so ...apocalyptic. I don't think fear even factors in, other than at the possibility of missing out on the opportunity to capitalize on something." There's very clear disdain in his voice, though it softens when the Kensai re-evaluates just why he's been stalling on addressing this with the guild. The idea of his heroics yet again blighting something was hard to face, sometimes. "Es there anyone in the guild who you'd consider above that temptation. Who you could hint to that there's something..off? It might be a good start." That said, the swordsman settles back into the chair, his hands folding in his lap as he tries to process the crux of what they've spoken about.


Quintessa doesn't respond to Kasyr's comment about not getting hooked, but she definitely wasn't ignoring him. As self-aware as she was, she'd never admit to it. Talking about Daath didn't interest her either. Quintessa was still harboring a deep grudge against the magister for lying to her about teaching her magic. If she had the choice, she's gladly give herself to whatever dark entity the would promise his immediate destruction. The changeling's fantasies about slitting Daath's throat and letting him bleed out on in the dirt were interrupted by Kasyr's question. "Huh?" the hex blade straightens up in her seat, "Probably nobody except Provost Odhranos Kerrigan," she flicks her wrist as she continues, "He's a goody-two-shoes. I'm sure he'd love to try his best at saving the world and doing the 'right thing' and all that nonsense. If you're looking for allies in the guild, he's the only person I'd trust to not only look out for himself."


Kasyr might have taken that 'Huh?' as a cue to adopt his better stern teacher look, and rap once against the surface of the table. That aside, however, he's pretty much back to just managing internal risk assessment, "Introduce me, peut-etre? ...Later. I think right now I'd like to retire, for a bit. There's a lot to think on, en fait." And as much as the Kensai is loathe to admit it, a combination of alcohol and exhaustion is creeping up on him faster than he'd like, enough so that he can't even pretend to have an appetite for the food before him any longer.


Quintessa allows her eyes to trace over Kasyr body for a moment, the low buzz from the rum she had imbibed still lingering. "Y-yes, of course. I've been meaning to suggest you two speak to add to his thesis anyway, this will be a excellent excuse." She giggles to herself, "He'll want to speak to you anyway. Last he heard you had just narrowly survived the Drow's assassination attempt. He and Miss Grace will be happy to know you survived." When Kasyr speaks about needing to retire, she can't suppress the urge to join him and it isn't even tainted with her typical lust. Quintessa just wants to remain near him. Her lithe form slowly rises before her her pale lips part to speak, "Can I walk you to your room?" she asks timidly, mismatched eyes unable to raise to look at him.


Kasyr runs a hand over his forehead, suppressing the faint thrum of protest that ripples within as he gets back to his feet, and starts towards the door. "I think I heard something about a thesis, peut-etre?" It's a little hazy, really, when you make a consistent habit of liquid lunches, but the synapses are firing. Enough so that he manages to display a bit of concern at the adjoining statement, "Uh. Why, exactement do they want to speak with me?" Please don't let it be about stabbing Lanlan. That concern, however, is less pressing in the face of Quintessa's invitation, the swordsman taking in her posture near the same time. The timidity is almost disarming, in the face of how she's acted in prior encounters, and he finds himself reaching out to affectionately brush his hand across her forehead, "I'd be remiss to say no, J'pense. Your hospitality es always appreciated, after all." A pause, and then he carefully extends a hand to her, alongside a mostly steady, "Apres vous."


Quintessa shakes her head, "It's not important," Questions about Odh and Sarah could wait. The changeling smiles up at him as Kasyr brushes the hair away from her face. After all that had happed in the last few days. she was happy to have this small moment of peace. Slender fingers slip into the kensai's waiting hand and she leads him towards the stairs. "Of course, mon amour, my home is your home. There will always be a place here so long as I am Lady of the Manor." When they reach the top of the stairs and traverse through the halls in the direction of the bedrooms, she stops at a crossroads and turns to face the man. One direction are the guest bedrooms and in the other is Quintessa's. Nervousness builds up in her chest again as she stares at him, the words she wanted to speak on the tip of her tongue. "How much would you be remiss to say no to?" A blush burns at her cheeks. "Would you say no if I offered to share my bed with you?"


Kasyr wants to mull further on what the mage guild could want for him, but what few thoughts float up are in a line of thinking he does not want to entertain. Perhaps he'd underestimated their knowledge of his (myriad) mistakes, or Daath's proactivity towards disseminating the news. In the face of those dire contemplations, present company is a welcome escape as he's led through the manors halls, the mention of home coaxing a small squeeze of her hand while it rests in his. And which is reaffirmed when she asks that question, "I might decline pursuing any ..." He catches his tongue between his teeth, the idea briefly evading him before he settles with, "Extracurricular activities. ...But otherwise," There's that wry expression again, his gaze moving to settle on hers again- to see her as she is and imprint it into his mind, as though it might dispel the specter that still crept through his memories, "I think I'd like that." He can't help but roll his eyes at himself, his fingers fidgeting slightly, "If that's alright?"


Quintessa gives Kasyr a warm smile, happy that he would join her. She had kept herself up worrying these last few lonely nights, having him to hold tonight would be a welcome reprieve. " That's perfect." she says, already pulling him down the hallway with her. "We already got training out of the way anyway, right?" she giggles at her joke as she presses her back against the master bedroom door. A single hand moves to twist the knob and she leads them both inside. The dim, purple glow from her enchanted room grow brighter, illuminating her shrines (minus Vakmatharas') and the large, four-post bed in the center of the room. When Quintessa turns back around, her mood has become more sentimental. "I want to monitor your recovery too... Make sure everything is back in one piece... You certainly weren't the other day, I-" she lets go of his hand and shuts the door behind them, her back placed against it again as tears begin to form in her eyes. "I thought I had lost you."


Kasyr may be getting caught up in the moment, and the simple sense of warmth that's coming off from the changeling, but he can't help but raise an eyebrow at her when she mentions making sure everything is in one piece. At least until her composure breaks completely, one of his hands moving to catch her by the cheek, and brush away the tears as they start to form. There's too much he wants to ay, words of reassurances and excuses fighting to be said- and ultimately leaving him unable to do little more than offer a very quiet, "Sorry." before he gingerly tilts his forehead against hers. The sense of guilt remains even still, paralyizing the swordsman as he tries his best to reassure her. "Just, sorry."


Quintessa nearly collapses into him, her pale fingers twisting around his clothing as she presses herself into a close embrace with Kasyr. "It's okay," she whispers to him, "You're here now... Let's just focus on that." Quintessa lingers here for a long while, before she moves away to disrobe. "Things are going to get worse," she begins, letting her robes fall from her body before dawning a sheer nightgown. The changeling sounds sure of herself, "But just for tonight let's forget all about our troubles. Let's enjoy each others company like we are the only two things in the world while we still can."


Kasyr focus definitely resides in the moment, flicking towards the changeling even as he moves to follow suit with her preperations. His shirt, at least, is passable enough for maintaining some illusion of decency, and the sheets cover the rest as needed when his gaze lingers too long her her. When she steps towards the bed, his hands are there to meet hers- to pull her alongside him. "Then help me forget." There's a tentativeness to his touch when he moves to pull her into a hug again, hesitation when his fingers touch where there might have been the illusion of scale, only to linger and then explore when all it finds is soft and yielding skin.