RP:To Spark An Idea

From HollowWiki

Part of the Rest in Pieces: Vailkrin! Arc


Part of the In Darkness We Trust Arc


This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.


Summary: Civil conversations may be something that Bradyn and Larewen need to work on, but this meeting ends with Larewen gaining an idea and requesting a future meeting with Bradyn.


Necromancer's Guild: Private Hall

Bradyn was within few, seated at one of the many desks with books and parchments strewn all across the surface of the workspace. There was also a quill and a well of ink for the purposes of jotting down notes. Bradyn is not hunched over and writing away, instead he has taken on a comfortable slouch within his chair. One hand holds a book elevated and open for him to read while the other is folded loosely across his torso. The candles do little to illuminate the pages of his book so the man has put a basic spell into place. An orb of fire hoovers a few feet above Bradyn's table, making it so the Maharan male can more easily read the pages. Outside of the occasional ripple of a page being turned, the room is filled with silence.


Larewen reaches for Bradyn's notes, and though she can see her hand snaring the piece of parchment, it appears otherwise that the page itself has taken a liking to dancing in the air. The banshee's eyes move over the scribblings upon it, trying to make sense of what has been written. A momnet later, her mismatched eyes move to the tome the Maharan reads, perhaps even considering swiping it from his hands. But then... Presently, Bradyn and Khitti are the elf's only hope of returning to her body so perhaps earning his ire isn't the best thing. She returns the page to its place upon the desk, the movement bringing with it a cool draft of air - the only sign of her presence for the moment. Of course, the male's a vampire though and a practitioner of death magic. Undoubtedly he's aware of her presence.


Bradyn Mahara was not alone, it would seem. He does not need to see Larewen, she is correct he can feel her presence and the fact that a page of his notes drifts through the air only confirms this detail. The notes have nothing of significance on them, at least not for Larewen. An individual who was less adept with the dark arts might find this tips and pointers intriguing but they are just that. Notes and reminders because even the best and the most seasoned often need to refresh and review details, while also seeking to expand and build upon those skills. While Bradyn may not be entirely able to confirm that Larewen is the spirit in question, just that there is a presence with him, the notes are incinerated out of spite. Based on a hunch, a whim, what other spirit would have motive to come into this space? With the uttering of a single word, Larewen will not be granted the chance to make heads or tails of these details nor will that particular piece of paper be returned to the table in the same state that it was. It will be nothing but ash. The book the Maharan male was reading is closed and deposited onto the table so that he can fold both arms across his chest. Were he a man who actually let his emotions show, he would look less than pleased. But this is Bradyn, he always looks rather...flat.


A bitter chill heralds the apparition's manifestation, and she struggles to keep a scowl from curling her lips. "A bit pointless, no?" comes her haunting, ethereal voice. Her nose wrinkles and she strives to keep the vexation from poisoning her words. Sheer habit drives the necromancer toward a chair, which she drags toward Bradyn's desk and lowers herself onto. Ectoplasm is left in her wake. "And yet here I came to congratulate you on your advancement. Kindness often warrants punishment, in some form or another, I suppose." Her gaze is still on the smoldering ashes of the incinerated paper, almost hungrily. Vakmatharas be damned, she could kill for the putrid taste of a cigarette between her lips... and wine? She was beginning to forget what it tasted like, what the warmth of a fresh kill felt like. Madness dances in the corners of those translucent eyes as they return to Bradyn. "Khitti has made known to me which of the schools of necromancy she wishes to specialize in, when the time comes. I expect no less ambition from you. Have you selected a specialty, yet?"


"Perhaps it is pointless to someone who is missing the point," this would start off as a tense conversation, "We are not friends and perhaps you should not be invading my space, or examining my own notes without my consent." They could have been personal Lar, that could have been a love poem! Or a page in his dairy! Or...okay, yeah right. As Larewen can surely anticipate from someone from House Mahara, Bradyn wants to know -everything-. That's fine, he can study and learn to his minds content, but that does not mean that he will be able to be a master of it all. Forcing himself to behave more professionally, the vampiric male begins to gather up the thoughts he has put to paper and his books. Everything will be organized in a nice, neat little stack. "Advanced Re-animation and flesh golems," if he was being made to pick one and only one. "But why must I limit myself?" What do the Maharan's say? Knowledge is power? Yes. "Surely your purpose with this conversation is not this." Or maybe he just does not trust Larewen.


Larewen arches a brow at Bradyn, her lip curling. "Then perhaps you should keep your notes in House Mahara," she retorts, coolly. After all, should she not be checking up on the members of her guild? If it had been a love poem or a diary page... well, let's be frank. No one knows how Larewen would respond to that. Not with her lack of humanity anyway! Her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth... or would, if she had a roof of her mouth and a tongue against which to click it. "Only a fool would assume I'd expect them to limit themselves," comes her tart reply and for a moment, her eyes close. The banshee composes herself, reins in her rising irritability. "And what progress have you made, in that area of study?" More importantly, and what she does not voice, is whether or not his golems would be on par with her own, or, as she prefers, exceed the strength of her last one, of the one now running amok in the forest.


Bradyn's jaw is actually set on edge because of Larewen's initial comment. Of course Larewen should be checking up on the members the guild, that is also not Bradyn's point. The tightness of the jaw is released and Bradyn assumes that flat tone of voice, "It is my personal space, going forward I would appreciate if you respect it." And in case Larewen has forgotten about this 'personal bubble' concept, Bradyn makes a nice wide motion of his arms to indicate what is his personal space. "If you were the sort of woman to carry a purse I would not just pick it up and go through it just because it was on the table in this guild space. So. I will ask nicely. Going forward. It would be much more pleasant for the both of us." Grey eyes turn up to the flames that Braydn would using to provide additional light to the room, they are extinguished. "I have not made advancements in that area since joining your ranks." Bradyn was old enough that he has undoubtably experimented prior to. "Correct me if I am mistaken. You would like me to work with Khitti? Effectively making me her student." That is how the both of them have understood things. "It is her intent to demonstrate that I have an understanding in all of the basic areas of necromancy." Curses, Incantations, The Black Tides, etc, etc. Which Bradyn has been plenty content to do. "And so much of my time has been consume with demonstrating knowledge in those areas." Some of those areas he is not as skilled in as she is. "We have numerous plans, with the most recently completed being double lesson from the Lorkain to the both of us in reanimation and the binding of souls."


Larewen loses her concentration on remaining visible, tangible for the moment, and flickers out of sight. It's best that way, perhaps. Her inability to manipulate magic as she had, to touch things and steal the life from living creatures, is driving her beyond mad. She's so close to loosing an ear-splitting wail that, in order to hold it in, she focuses what little energies she does posess, mostly those that border the antics of poltergeists, and obliterates her chair. Naturally, she's risen from it first (again out of instinct). "For the moment, yes. My magics are bound to my body. Instead of pressing him about reanimation, the elf shifts gears for a moment and when she speaks, her voice is now a disembodied rasp. "And your progress with arcane sigils?"


Bradyn could not even begin to understand the reason and the logic behind destroying that chair. This gains nothing but a silent stare from Bradyn, broken by Larewen herself speaking in that disembodied voice. None of this was enough to cause a single hair to raise on the back of Bradyn's neck, but are we surprised? Were the Maharan male the sort, her question might have earned her a sigh. "I have understanding enough but as I have told Khitti, it is not one of my favored subjects and books are often used for reference when I must." Not everyone had the same knack for creating these symbols, some were better with words. Bradyn of course has not ignored the subject matter, for it was just his nature. The question is given a to the point answer and then silence, expecting Larewen's voice to echo through the room again.


Larewen finds some small satisfaction in busting the chair - if only because it reminds her that she is more than simply an echo. That pleasure is short lived, though. As she begins to materialize once more, a glimpse of a somewhat tortured expression flickers across her expresion. Then it is gone as she inhales and exhales. Not that there's any breath to be seen. She's double-dead. "Fair enough. We will need to focus on your ability to create a strong, healthy golem (as if one can be healthy?) if we intend to stop Corruption. That, or..." The elf blinks a moment or two, a thought crossing her mind briefly. "I wonder... if a phylactery can maintain and hold the soul of a lich, then perhaps we could build a soul prison..." She taps an incorporeal finger against her lips as she turns away from Bradyn. "Meet me where my body resides when you have the chance. I want to see something." With that, she simply vanishes. Literally.