RP:Until It Wakes, We Must Continue

From HollowWiki

Part of the On Stranger Tides Arc


Part of the The God of Undeath Arc


Part of the Laugh Now, Cry Later Arc


Part of the You Must Have Been Human Arc


Part of the Once Upon a Midnight Dreary Arc


Part of the Welcome To The End Of Eras Arc


This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.


This is a Mage's Guild RP.


Summary: After the events of Kasyr's rebirth, everyone regroups to process the trauma they endured and discuss next steps. Kanna presents a proposal to deal with the Cenrilian plague, and though Quintessa doubts the efficacy of what is suggested, a stressed Khitti grants her an advanced rank for her to continue her research, with Valrae instituing a deadline before the undead are purged in a more permanent matter. Lanlan is offered a proposal that looks to restrengthen the relations between the Mage's Guild and Necromancer's Guild. Kasyr feels great and doesn't get what everyone is moping around for.

The Misshapen Fortress

Before you stands the unfishished stronghold of Countess Quintessa Dragana, the Shield of the East. The uneven, ebony walls that enclose the area around the citadel are unbroken, save for two places; Heavy gates have been built into the dark stone, made of thick wood and plated in heavy Ghroundium, which is engraved with interwoven spiders and burnished to a silver-like shine. Within the walls, modeled after the famous Vailkrin Plaza and reinvisioned in a style she calls ‘Art Draco’, the Countess has had the streets paved in ebony stone and adorned with elegant, silvery street lights that glow an ominous green as the lime flames light the way. The black stone walls are left unadorned save for several green-burning sconces and a series of banners, each flag bearing the black hand of Vailkrin upon a shield wrapped in thorny, flowering vines. To the west lies a short path leading through a second pair of gates, taking you to a massive black spire that stretches into the gloomy Vailkrin skies above the Dark Forest. Although the fort remains unfinished, it is still large enough to house the temporary resident stonemasons and carpenters that work around the clock to build Quintessa’s vision, as well as the modest garrison that protects them. Along the walls there is not a moment that the Countess’ skeletal archers aren’t looking down on the surrounding area, nor is there a moment when her vampiric pikemen aren’t wielding halberds at the gates, ever ready to defend these walls from their Mistress’ enemies, domestic or forien. If you have business with House Dragana or the Necromancer’s Guild, you are free to roam here peacefully, but interlopers will not be tolerated. Loitering too long around here will get you reported to the Countess either way, after all, the shadows are always watching, especially within these walls.

There was a strange-looking zombie making its way down the corridors of Tessa’s fortress, on its way from the guest rooms to the kitchen and dining room area. Barefeet shuffled along the floor, a shoulder pressed along the wall as it got closer and closer to the kitchen. There was even a bit of moaning, like a zombie would. Was it hungry? Why hadn’t any sort of alarms gone off in the fortress to tell everyone about an intruder? Were they all going to die? It definitely was hungry… and someone was definitely going to die, but only if it didn’t get coffee. Because that zombie… was Khitti. Oh, she’s not dead though. Just extremely frakking tired. There were dark circles under her eyes and a headache that had long since started while she’d been attempting to sleep. The redhead clawed her way into the kitchen, shoving servants aside as she growled at them, eventually finding that much beloved coffee pot. As it brewed, Khitti slumped over onto the counter, her face planted on top of it as her arms hung in front of it in the air. When it was done, there was more moaning, because of course she had to move again, and grab a mug. Sugar was put into it--probably way more than what should be added to one cup of coffee--and a wee bit of cream, and then Khitti was on her way to the dining room. But not before muttering to one of the servants to make her a huge breakfast. A human breakfast. -No-, not a breakfast -made- of humans. A breakfast -for- humans. She sighed heavily, and eventually collapsed into a chair and slowly sipped that much needed hot drink as she rubbed one of her temples.

The dining room where Khitti found respite in was furnished as darkly as the rest of the fortress, with a dining table of black obsidian large enough to easily seat the leaders of every guild if needed. Starkly out of place with the gothic interior design were glaringly white flower pots of Cenrilian design, with bright bushels of flowers packed so tightly that the green stems and leaves were barely visible. From a pair of glass double doors leading out into the eternally moonlit garden, Kanna was kneeled in the poisons garden, creating floral arrangements as though a circus of nightmares had not unfolded before her eyes just hours beforehand. With her back to the doorway, it would appear as though the events had left her unaffected. When Kanna turns, however, another flower pot filled, the tantamount scratches from thorns and greenish stains all over her undead arms and the same clothes she had been wearing yesterday tell a story of obsessive floral arranging in an attempt to ease her anxiety. Bringing the poisonous eye-candy indoors for display, the ghoul sets the pot down on the table, bringing the total number of arrangements up to twelve. Her eyes catch the emerald ones of Khitti and Kanna leans in as if examining her. “Good, you’re still human.” She mumbles half-dazedly before rubbing her hands together and glancing about the room. “Mm… room needs more color, just a little more color, maybe just one more arrangement…”

The first thing she’d noticed, before she’d even begun the mountainous task of opening her eyes, was the searing pain that seemed to dance like fire across every nerve of her body. It radiated from her back most sharply, a firebrand of aching soreness that webbed around the entirety of her body. Without opening her eyes, she started with her toes. Her heeled boots were gone, she could tell her feet were bare as she wiggled them. Then her feet, her legs, her fingers and her arms. So everything was attached, if aching like a rotted tooth, and that was good news. The next thing she noticed, which caused a bubbling panic to rise in her chest, was that the room was quiet. Too quiet. When her eyelids finally fluttered open, the room was unfamiliar to her. Her mind was working slowly but she eventually figured she was still somewhere inside of Tessa’s fortress. Safe enough. It took ages to move. The sound of the sheets and the bed moving beneath and around her were muffled, as if cotton had been stuffed in her ears. Her bag was near, the emerald skull resting beside it. Valrae found a washroom and she cleaned herself up while moving as if she were a century old. She’d been cleaned up by someone else, by whom she was not sure, and there were bandages and healing salves on her back, her jaw. She washed her hair and face with soaps she’d kept in her bag, blood and dirt from the horror of the night turning the water brown and pink. Exhaustion bone deep kept the witch from even the most basic of makeup and glamour. When she eventually shuffled from the room, her hair hung in damp, tangled waves around her bare and deeply bruised face. She’d found an oversize sweater in her bag and tight cotton pants. She hadn’t bothered with shoes. Her silver case of cigarettes was clenched tightly in one hand, the emerald skull wrapped in her other arm and held close to her chest. Bleary eyed, the witch followed the scent of coffee and food. It wasn’t long before she found the kitchen. She did not recognize any of the faces of those that moved about busily. They didn’t seem bothered by her presence though, one graciously pressing a mug full of blessed caffeine in her hands before pointing in the direction of the dining room. She’d just placed her mug down near Khitti and brought a cigarette to her bruised lips when Kanna entered, flowers in tow, and she blinked at the ghoul. “You’ll bring the whole garden in at this rate,” She murmurs, inhaling as the cigarette sparks to life.

Lanlan had, in the aftermath of his death and the visions gleaned, ran away sometimes and hid all the time, disappearing so completely that not even he knew where he was. When he was able to stop and catch his breath, he couldn’t remember what path he had taken. Only the vague recollection of hostility surrounding him, spurring him further away from the misshapen fortress. Yet, he knew he had to go back. He needed to rest. But he would do so while hiding in plain sight. He appeared again only briefly, to pore over an odd lavender colored crystal covered in tiny scratches. He disappeared in a cloud of butterflies and moths. Eventually, it was Kanna that woke him, plucking each of his hiding spots as if she knew he was there, or so it seemed to him. He’d flutter from flower to flower, dodging her flayed fingers while his teency tired wings flapped desperately. Eventually, she brought him inside among one of her arrangements, and his rosy wings were part of the color she added to the room, while seeming to peer out at the denizens with a pair of wizened eyes.

The scent of clove and lavender would betray Quintessa’s presence before she was visible, a faint cloud of smoke following her like a hazy trail down the hallways to her canteen. Dressed in dark, loose fitting robes and nothing on her feet, it doesn’t seem like the changeling is ready to entertain guests as she enters the hall, already servants rushing to get a cup of Xalious breakfast tea into their countesses hands before she even has to address them- just as trained. “Leave us.” The warlock orders the servants after they have performed their duties, not wanting them to eavesdrop on anything her allies might want to discuss together, the cuppa in her hands spiked with a suspicious green liquid from a vial. Once Quintessa finds a seat she sips it in silence for a moment, allowing the wave of pleasure to sink in before mismatched eyes flicker to meet each one of them, amused that she wasn’t the only one among them that looked ghastly right now- especially without her makeup. “Seems everyone made it through the night okay… Well, almost everyone.” The changeling looks towards the direction of the entrance expectantly, a comment on the tip of her tongue that she doesn’t verbalize.

Kasyr is perhaps the only individual who was not in the process of rising, but rather, retiring- for it's in those early hours that he's found his way back to the keep. Though, not to sleep- For even after an evening replete with slaughter, one that's seen new clearings formed, and odd travellers vanquished- he feels no exhaustion. Instead, there's only a peculiar sense of elation, that sees him humming a merry tune as he moves to enter the corridor to the parlour. "Uh, sir." The kensai pauses, glancing off towards a servant in the hallway who seems all-too-keen to bar his path. "Would you . . ." And she seems to be struggling for the right words. The swordsmans already preparing for some past grievance, though secretly hoping to have found a fan. What he's not expecting is the towel to be thrust in his direction. "Quoi?" He can't help but cant his head off to one side, one hand moving to cup his head as he tries to parse her- "..." And then he draws his hands back from his face, only now becoming aware of the strings of gore hanging from his fingers like fine threads. There's a mirror in his peripherary, but he already knows better than to look at it. There's a pungent iron stench about him, to the point that it drowns out that subtler scent of storm. Worst of all, however, is the crimson procession behind him- a literal carpet of blood pooling after, which has attracted the attention of a good handful of the cleaning staff. "Ah. ...Right. Yes..." His coat is shucked without a word, so it can be passed off to a handful of servants to be... probably burned, rather then cleaned. Still, while the ensuing toweling down isn't -pleasent- there is something rather refreshing about it, which is probably why he finally steps into the room with something of a grin. The fact that he's not being doggedly followed by a pool of blood also helps. "Morning, mes amis."

Khitti lifted her head to look at Val as the witch sat next to her. Crimson brows furrowed together as she studied the woman, and all of her visible cuts and bruises. She wasn’t going to be the one to tell her that she was the one that bandaged her up and did what she could without magic. Khitti was glad to see that she was okay, but she felt awful that she hadn’t had enough magic to fully heal her. Still exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically from the night before, Khitti almost looked like she might cry for a moment, but she was quick to turn her attention away from the Red Witch before she’d notice. Gulping down the last of her coffee, she turned finally to eye Kanna’s floral arrangements, a faint smile forming briefly before her attention shifted towards Quintessa as she arrived and eventually Kasyr. But ultimately, her line of sight fixed on the table in front of her again. Her thoughts shifted to the night before, wondering what they would’ve done if Valrae, Lanlan, and Kasy had all died and weren't able to be brought back. If Amarrah had not shown up, would it have even been possible? She sighed and pushed her coffee cup away, just in time for her breakfast--and anyone else’s--to show up. She was starving and yet she couldn’t quite eat, thanks to her sore throat from all that screaming and singing, and her mind being a plague of death and doubt.

Kanna makes a small hum of distress as Valrae points out how many flowers have been uprooted for the purpose of easing her anxiety. Even a few winged bugs have made their way inside, as evidenced by a vampire attendant housing a golden butterfly at the top of her intricately pulled back hair. “Okay, no more…” She murmurs, instead forcing herself to sit down. “Lady Kanna, Countess Dragana.” The attendant says, approaching the group. “The undead guest attacked the Gualonian display in the Necromancer’s Guild lobby and was brought here. It appears he is reacting negatively to portraits depicting the area.” Kanna blinks a few times, having completely forgotten about the tuxedo’d ghoul. “Bring him here.” The bardess reaches out, holding one of the flower pots closer to her so her scarred hands can remain occupied. Kasyr enters as the attendant leaves, and Kanna tilts her head in a silent question. Being the only one in the room who did not know the Blade of Daedria personally, it was better to let his friends speak first.

Valrae reaches out to brush Kanna’s shoulder with the tips of her fingers. “They’re lovely though,” She says in a gentler tone. Then she tossed her body into a chair next to Khitti and pulled her knees to her chest. Trading the skull for her mug of coffee, the witch took a large pull from it with the still burning cigarette shaking between her index and middle finger. She resisted the urge to lean into Khitti, instead only offering her a soft spoken good morning and a sweet smile. The witch might have asked how the red head was feeling, but that was too loaded of a question for the small amount of coffee either of them had. Her lips tilt into a weak smile at Quintessa’s appearance, one that quickly falls away and settles back into a pouting frown. The witch doesn’t react to the news of Tuxedo Mask, her brows furrowing slightly as her weary mind struggles to understand the news. She’s on her second cigarette when Kasyr enters. He looked well. Certainly better than she’d last seen him and loads more lively than anyone else in the room. Twin flames of giddy relief and jealous annoyance burned through her, turning her pale cheeks pink. “Good to see you whole, Kas.” There was an unsettling awareness, a new sensation that she’d known he might enter the room before he had. That same sense was mirrored in a way that told her Lanlan was with them, even if she could not see him, as her dark eyes glanced around the room. “Lan? Why are you hiding?” It took her a moment but eventually her eyes settled on the moth. “Come on, I don’t think they have cups tiny enough for you that way. Don’t you want some coffee?” Her tone was sweet as she tipped her mug toward him and shook it a little.

Lanlan could see even from his strange perspective, that his people were back (he’d call them ‘his’ as a shorthand), and it was time for him to be a person again. Past time actually, but maybe he could just stay like this a little longer. Moths don’t need to worry about the world ending, or friends dying or turning into monsters. Or people trying to kill you or doubting you…Moths just exist. Lanlan could do that! Live a peaceful life of nectar-sipping and fluttering. And when it was time? Die peacefully, quietly, without a worry or a fuss. While he was musing about this to himself, he became aware, that Valrae’s eyes settled on his false ones. And lingered. Why was he hiding? Why was she blowing up his spot! Without another second’s delay, a hundred or more butterflies and moths poured in from the doors and windows, bouncing clumsily through the air until they all gathered in a small tornado of wing beats and colors in front of the beautiful flower-house Lanlan was squatting in. As the flutter-nado subsides, Lanlan steps out of it, leaving behind a dusting of dried foliage that could’ve possibly been mistaken for bugs at one time. “Hiding? I’m not hiding, I only just got here! As you can all clearly see.” he says quickly, failing to hide is anxiety probably. “And…” He stares at her mug jealously. “No,” he lies, unwilling to accept anything from her at the moment. Everyone seems to be in some state of disharmony, though he’s only willing to spare a quick glance to each of them. Last night was harrowing, as much for him as anyone. Except for Kasyr, who was smiling. It filled Lanlan with a quiet rage to see him like that. “We did it,” he says. “That’s good.” But contempt was all over his face and he wasn’t in a state to hide it. He turned away from him. “Everyone looks…how are you all?”

Quintessa doesn’t even try to resist the spike of excitement she experiences when Kasyr enters the room, her blue and hazel eyes gleaming with a dangerously curious luster. “Morning,” the changeling coos, that look in her eyes like a cat that’s just caught a canary. “Glad you made it back.” The smirk on her face quickly fades, however, as she tilts her head in Kanna’s direction and asks, “Undead guest?” She would likely have to be more specific, given that was the nature of most of her guests- not that she kept track of every courtier that wandered through here. If he was destroying things then she would want to put a stop to it immediately. Her smirk returning, her mismatched gaze flickers to Valrae as she speaks to the Moth-Lan before she parts her pale lips to speak. “Oh come now Valrae, I like it when men are easier to step on.” Quintessa pauses for a moment before she decides it's better to skip the pleasantries, her cup of tea placed on the table before her. “We are here,” she answers Lanlan shortly, her lips pulled into a thin line. “But I assume it is not because you all wanted blood sausage and potatoes for breakfast in my grand hall with me. We have important things to discuss, no?”

Kasyr isn't quite sure what's more surprising- the sullen rage emanating from Lanlan, or the fact that he was so freely showcasing his own discomfort. Some perverse part of the kensai would almost call it a breakthrough- a thought that coaxes his expression into a smirk. "Yes, I feel like this will certainly help insofar as opening options for how to deal with future threats." And then he's turning his gaze to the rest of the room, and the state of the others- why hadn't it dawned on him immediately? For a moment, he looks baffled- and then his expression flattens, and his attention turns towards Quintessa, "I feel at this juncture a meal might help to make the rest of what follows easier to swallow, Cherie." With that said, he goes to find a place to sit at the table- with the rather tactical decision of taking a spot near Kanna, so his comment can't be misinterpreted (probably by Lanlan), about making a meal out of one of the attendees. "Et there is a lot still to follow, non?"

Khitti offered a faint ‘morning’ in return to Valrae, but otherwise kept quiet for the moment. Lanlan’s entrance stirred up a bit of that annoyance from last night however, leftover somewhere amongst the torrent of emotions that continued to tempest throughout her mind. She rolled her eyes at the drow, then shoved an empty mug and an extra plate of food down to an empty chair. “Sit down, shut up, and eat. You died and then promptly ran around like a chicken with your head cut off upon resurrection and I’m assuming you didn’t eat or drink anything during that span of time between now and then.” Was she… attempting to be nice? Maybe mother him a little? Maybe. But it was really hard to tell. No longer able to resist her own meal, she tore into all of it like a zombie feeding on the flesh of the living and refilled her coffee, adding to it again that ridiculous amount of sugar and tiny bit of cream. With the way she was eating, one could almost see how she might’ve been, back when she was feeding as a famished vampire. Sorry, guys. Khitti was not a lady--especially when she was hungry. Not now, not ever. When she was finally finished, she pushed her plate away and sighed. “Right. What exactly were you guys here for? Because I doubt it was…” She gestured vaguely at Kasyr, instead of finishing her sentence.

Whereas everyone else's spirits rustled with disdain towards Lanlan’s grandiose entrance, it immediately brightened Kanna’s spirits with an equal force. The ghoul makes a gesture to mime clapping, though the noise does not come given how otherwise quiet the room is. Her hands return to the flowers, where they immediately take refuge from her internalised anxiety by ticking away at a loose paint chip. “I met Lanlan and Valrae while researching the Cenrilian plague. We initially came by to deliver an update about our findings, as evidenced by…” Right on cue, the vampiress leads the dapper zombie into the room. The ghoul moves on his own free will, making the soft shambling movements and grunts of effort that the more dangerous variations do, but he does not lunge towards the living. Instead, the vampiress sets a chair behind him and gently presses down on his shoulder, which the zombie does not resist. Seated at the head of the table, an act that would absolutely draw ire from the other absent resident of the fortress, Kanna motions for Lanlan to sit as well. “This man. He has lost the hunger that is known to be the distinguishing feature of those turned by the plague, and has only reacted twice to external stimuli without physical or verbal provocation. I believe there is a branch of necromancy that can assist in eliminating the main symptoms that currently make them otherwise untameable by the Necromancer’s Guild.” A paint chip falls from the flowerpot to the obsidian table, and Kanna pauses.

Valrae watches with wonder as the colorful array of beating wings gather, pushing back a few strands of damp hair as Lanlan steps out of the dramatic display. Her smile was genuine, even if it melted into a hurt frown when he turned his nose at her coffee. “Rude,” She mutters, setting it aside and within his reach to tend her smoke. She doesn’t answer his question, instead turning her bruised, too wide eyes toward him to offer him only a shrug. The witch snorts a laugh at Quintessa but that happy expression is quickly replaced with a grimace at the mention of blood sausage. She pulls her knees tighter to her chest. She watches Khitti setting a place for Lanlan and hides a faint smile behind a curtain of her hair, hoping he’ll take the blunt kindness Khitti was offering. There was a plate of food before her as well but she ignored it, choosing instead yet another cigarette. Her lungs would be black and ready to fall out of her body before she’d smoked enough to relieve the stress that wound her so tightly. Valrae wiggled her toes, frowning at the chipped pink polish while the rest of them spoke. She winced when Khitti mentioned that they'd died. She’d died. Again. The witch’s memory was still fuzzy around the edges, still unclear what magic had poured from the skull and through her before. It was clear enough by the growing sense she shared with Kasyr and Lanlan that what she’d done, foolishly and on desperate impulse, had still bound them and hadn’t broken with death. A small, selfish part of her hoped that neither of them had noticed that quite yet. Especially Lan. Valrae doesn’t look up when the zombie enters and sits. When Kanna mentions the infection in Cenril, she only takes a long drag from her cigarette and sighs on the exhale. “Do you have anything stronger than coffee?” She asks suddenly, looking toward Quintessa.

Lanlan feels his stomach lurch at the mention of blood sausages, and he grimaces at Kasyr briefly before turning back to Quintessa. He was about to be extremely rude, and his contemptuous frown even turned into an impish smile in anticipation, but then Khitti ambushed him. Run away? At least you didn’t turn into a bloody deathblob and try to kill everyone you care about. Yeah Lanlan, say that. “I didn’t…! Not like a chicken, and besides… Kasyr…!” He shakes his head and accepts the food. But what does it mean, this plate? It’s impossible to know. Khitti wins this round. “But yes we have a lot to talk about, even though actually he and I -were- here about that. And Quintessa. And you three (Khitti, Valrae, Kanna) even if you didn’t really know that… Obviously we didn’t think it would be that horrible. I didn’t expect to -die-,” he says, very consciously not looking at Valrae. Very consciously. But he can’t hold it in, and he glances over for the tiniest instant to see what her eyes have to say. “But we had our chance and took it and now that its over, we still have to find out how to free…” he puts the empty mug Khitti gave him down next to Valrae’s as he gestures at Mr. Mask, the disgruntled zombie, with his other hand. “And then free the rest of them. And end the curse hanging over Cenril and draw the corruption out of the Xalious tree…” He takes a breath and picks up Valrae’s non-empty mug that she offers him. It was right near his empty one…accident? “And find out what else its up to, because hideous and insane godlings formed of divine excrement do not sleep.” He assumes. The weight of all these things pushes him further into the chair. “But we have these small victories! Last night…! Or early this morning? we did something -amazing- (and horrible) and we did it successfully. And Kanna’s friend! Look at him! He’s practically a human.” Okay that was a lie. But it was a nice lie. The least he could do for someone with good taste like Kanna. “And we have to find out what -else- Callus has been doing, and I -bet- Kanna is the key to that because she…well you know.”


Quintessa raises a brow in Kasyr’s direction before she makes the deliberate motion to lift one of the sausages from the center plate and take a bite, the remainder dropping back down on her own, empty dish. As she chews she watches Khitti scold Lanlan about his behavior, and the changeling can’t help but chuckle at her words, however, when Kanna mentions the plague in Cenril Quintessa’s expression draws serious. “You brought him -here-?” An inner fear rises in Quintessa and though she does not speak as to why she grows more tense as he finds a seat at her table, her eyes widen and her breath quickens. The explanation doesn’t seem to calm her, but when Valrae asks for something stronger she peels her gaze away from the ghouls to find the witch. The warlock considers this for a moment before reaching into her robes and offering the vial of green fluid. “Here, take this, it should only take a few drops- too much and you won’t be able to sleep for the next 24 hours.” After handing the item off she looks towards Lanlan, hands folded together on top of the table. “You didn’t think it would be difficult? The Dark Immortals changed the face of the world and you thought we could play as them- create a revenant- and it wouldn’t be difficult?” Quintessa laughs at the absurdity of the entire situation, throwing her head back as her cackle echoes throughout the room. “Fools, the lot of you. And I the biggest fool for playing hostess to this madness.” She takes a deep breath to regain her composure before her eyes settle upon Kanna. “Yes, Kanna can help us understand Caluss better, certainly. She’s been able to defy the Great Defier- And why not? Defiance seems to be a core domain of The Dweller- why shouldn’t It’s creations not also defy that which created them? Of course, it all makes perfect sense… So what do you suggest? Further use Necromancer’s Guild resources to solve this issue? Fine, do it, I have long supported this endeavor from the very beginning, but unless we have some new clue we are still at a dead end.” Her gaze flickers to the newly emancipated ghoul. “What happened to him? Why is he different from the others?”

Kasyr, for his part, doesn't reach for any food beyond a cup of coffee- and even then, he seems more intent on stirring it's contents then actually drinking it. At the end of the day, he was simply waiting for whenever there was something he could blatantly go after- which allowed him the liberty of scrutinizing the other attendees, to better gauge the overall condition of the others. Or try to- admittedly, Kanna's nervous energy is a bit hard to ignore, and is enough to coax him into removing his scarf, if only so he can extend it off to the side, and quietly murmur, "I'm pretty sure this has some loose threads." If it's not accepted, the swordsman will still leave it off to the side- just in case it's easier to poke at it surreptitiously. Plus, this act of off-kilter decency means he has something to do while Lanlan's invoking his name, like a tattling child. Khitti's question, for instance, raises a very good point- as it seemed more like Lanlan had conspired to gather everyone for the rite with an existing excuse. "I imagine there would have been a touch less death if we'd been able to properly plan around that." That said, the Kensai resumes listening to the debriefing- rather fixedly, given he's trying not to give his mind any thought towards whether he'd be able to stomach blood wine in his state. "Well, this is, admittedly, more progressive then simply setting a boat on fire and being done with it." Cripes, Kas. "As for overall progress, Lanlan's list of things to do at least has some elements that'd help to provoke our evil god-of-the-week, if we need to force something to happen."

Khitti raised a brow at Lanlan’s stammering and excuses, doing her best to hide a faint smirk. “Uh huh.” With a shake of her head, she returned her thoughts to the task at hand, eyeing everyone as they spoke. But when it came to Tessa, and her laughter and declaration of how ridiculous this whole thing was… well, that ire that had been reserved last night for Lanlan was now turned towards her own daughter. She slammed a fist on the table, pale lips twisted into an angry frown as olive-green eyes stared at the countess. “Just frakking stop it. I don’t give a damn -who- made them this way. Whether it’s Caluss or if it had been someone from the guild or anyone else. I’m tired of this threat lingering in my city--in my home! The only reason I stopped doing away with them all was for Valrae and Kanna’s sakes. I’m tired of constantly wondering if I’m going to come home to my children and my spouse being eaten alive because something else happened and there was another outbreak. This is the second time I’ve been forced to live through such a thing and I’m beyond exhausted by it. I just… cannot deal with it anymore.” Tears had begun to well up in the redhead’s eyes and she did her best to ignore them as she reached for the coffee again to pour yet another cup. This one would remain black, however, in an effort to force Khitti to not only choke down the bitter drink, but her bitter emotions as well. Her hand shook a little as she brought the mug to her lips and drank, quiet for what seemed like forever until finally… “Use whatever resources you need. From the Necromancer’s Guild. From the Mage’s. The Devout’s. If it’s something I can approve myself, I’ll do it,” she said, her voice low, emotionless.

Kanna can’t help but let out a happy noise when Lanlan acknowledges, and again when Quintessa asks the very question she was hoping to hear. “This man, who Valrae and I have dubbed Tuxedo Mask, had a strong emotional reaction to a location and a missing persons portrait.” Khitti’s fist interrupts her and Quintessa nearly talking over each other, and the ghoul falters, seeing the necromancer’s eyes dim as the horrific what-ifs take hold. She rises from the table and goes to Khitti, giving a soft ‘pardon’ as her only warning before Khitti is embraced by the ghoul. Her touch is stone cold, but at least the bardess has enough extra weight to be soft. “This is why we’re here, so you don’t have to suffer those nightmares anymore.” Kanna releases her and moves towards Tuxedo Mask, continuing her theory, “Similar to how I regained my mental faculties after remembering a life debt I owed a man who saved me, it seems his deep concern for what I assume is his child was powerful enough to halt further degeneration.” Holding out her hand to the ghoul, she asks, “May I have the poster?” When the zombie fails to react to Kanna’s question, she nods and gently moves her hand towards the shrivelled hand on the table that clutches the faded missing persons poster. A noise escapes the zombies’ throat the second Kanna makes contact with the parchment and he recoils, holding it close to his chest. “See?” Straightening up, it is now the necrobotanists turn to hold her hands close. Speaking carefully, given the non-guild members in the room, she asks, “I believe that a mass casting of a visceromantic spell could placate the undead members of the city. Once they have their faculties about them the way I do, I think they could either reintegrate into society or come here to Vailkrin to learn more about the magic used to help them.” Lowering her head slightly, she adds, “But that kind of spell theory is not available at my current rank. Anything that I need to do to gain the rank that lets me come and go freely from the warded advanced learning materials, please let me know.” Finished with her speech, Kanna looks at Valrae, then Lanlan, then Kasyr, then moves away from the jilted zombie back to her chair, where a cup of tea is now waiting for her.

Valrae found herself unable to look up and meet Lanlan’s gaze, even when she felt his own lingering over her. Her shoulders sag as she wraps her arms around her legs, feeling and looking far more fragile and small than she had in years. Her body ached and that ache was mirrored in her chest now. Guilt tangled like a knot in her throat as her new cigarette burned out between her fingers nearly untouched. She doesn’t even respond when Lan glosses over his deception at bringing her here, or when he speaks about the infected or small victories. She doesn’t notice Tessa’s nervousness at the news that one of Cenril’s plagued had been let in through her front door. It was only when Quintessa offers her the vial that she looks up and accepts it gratefully, hands shaking. She places a few drops into Lan’s empty cup before passing it back. She mixes it with the nearest liquid handy and gives it a testing sip. Seemed fine. Her eyes flit from her own feet to Kasyr, her head tilting as he takes a verbal shot back at Lan and mentions setting the boat ablaze. That felt like centuries ago to her now. Her frown deepens. Before she can respond though, if she’d even been able to find the words, Khitti’s fist meets the table. Valrae jumps, nearly spilling her drink as she yelps. Trembling now, she places the mug down and reaches a hand out to brush over the red head’s shoulder, her eyes welling with tears as she watched Khitti’s own slip down her cheeks. “I-” She should say something. She’d been calling the shots on how they’d dealt with the infected in the city for some time now. Leading the city even if it was Uma who carried the title of Mayor. It was only a matter of time before it was her seat, the election was only a formality. If they were to decide what happened in Cenril, Valrae should speak on it. But the words wouldn’t come. They caught in her throat and threatened to strangle her instead. Perhaps Kasyr’s way would have been more merciful. Perhaps she’d been caught in her own stubbornness, her own ego at thinking she could fix whatever devastation a god had brought upon them, and she’d failed to see the reality of those decisions. Her own tears slipped silently down her bruised face. “I’m sorry.” The witch felt herself tipping toward a total breakdown. The room seemed too small, too crowded around her. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. When she dropped them again she looked around the room. Her eyes were clearer as she straightened herself in the chair, holding her head a little higher. She watches and listens the Kanna as she offers her theory, offering them all a path forward. Gratitude and affection threaten to bring more tears to her eyes. She fights them back and nods. “We’ll work on the cure. We’re closer now, I feel, than we have been. I’ll do everything in my considerable power to help, as will my coven and all of Cenril. We have a plan, we have resources. We’ll give ourselves until the new moon and if it doesn’t work…” Valrae hesitates, looking directly towards Kasyr for what she says next. “If it doesn’t work we finish it. Cenril must be freed of this.”

Lanlan opens his mouth to lash out at Quintessa, but then Khitti says it all in a way that is much less…inflammatory? “And I do know how to kill it,” he says, grossly exaggerating. “But I know it spied on Gevurah, and probably spies on all of you. Unseen eyes and ears all over this place, I bet. So the only thing the Great Turd hears from me, is what I want the Great Turd to hear.” Such as calling it the Great Turd. Then he spins his eyes over to Kasyr, trying to raise ire against him again. “We saved you, and if I hadn’t mildly misdirected certain parties, then maybe they wouldn’t be here at all. Or maybe we all would’ve died…and not come back.” Then about the boat thing, Lanlan just looks away as if he didn’t hear anything and sips his (Valrae’s) coffee. Not touching that. Oh. Except! “Actually. That’s where the curse started. We should start there when we look for how to break it.” So obvious, why hadn’t anyone thought of it before? Lanlan is grateful to Kanna for doing what she needs to for Khitti, but mild panic washes over him when she looks his way before returning to her tea. Was she going to hug him too? No? Okay. He sighs in relief, or attempts to. It’s cut off sharply. “Valrae!” He says, forgetting he wasn’t talking to her right now. “Until the new moon, are you sure? That’s only…ahem. That’s more than enough time. We’ll bring their minds back, or their souls. After what we accomplished yesterday? This is the easy part.” It has to be. “There’s actually one other thing I wanted to bring up. Odhranos looks…stable. Right? When can we arrange for him to be returned, I know certain people who would be especially grateful.”

Quintessa stares at Khitti a long moment, holding her tongue instead of responding right away. She’d allow everyone a chance to speak on the subject more, silently studying each one down the row. Kanna seems to attract the warlock’s attention for a bit longer than the rest. “I ask because I want to get to the bottom of this.” Her voice is filled with venom rather than sympathy for Khitti, who in her mind is angry because she is asking questions about the plague. After a moment Quintessa sighs and continues, a calm level returning to her tone. “What is a nightmare for you is a reality for many of the denizens of Cenril, we all know this, and I was not making light of it. All of you have to admit that last night we shouldn’t have succeeded but by some intervention we survived. Excuse me if I take a moment to point out our folly. We are experts in our field- masters even, and yet we are thinking like green neophytes, that we can just wing every situation as if reacting to a sudden change of the weather. And now we think we can wield enough necrotic energy to cast a visceromancy spell powerful enough to extract the memories of thousands of subjects simultaneously and reflect them back upon them to trigger their emotions? Where in the nine hells would we find a spell that advanced to begin with? The only place would be the Forsaken Book of the Dead, and that was stolen from us necromancer’s- the rightful owners, years ago.” Mismatched eyes flicker to Lanlan where they burn into him with a sudden intensity. “You’ve been making yourself quite comfortable in the Mage’s Tower I hear. Acting like you are someone important. Making decisions.” Quintessa glances at Kasyr before reaffirming her attention on the half-drow, “When were you going to tell me you betrayed our coalition again? You think you can strip a title away from a citizen of my lands and get away with it?” If Quintessa had her sword on her she certainly would be gripping the hilt right now. “How do you intend on paying reparations for that action? The Book. The Book would be a good start- Can you acquire it? The key to ending this conflict is no doubt hidden within those passages, and the last I heard Tiphareth the Disintgrated was hoarding it in the tower while he still clutched to power in Xalious. A secret Archmage sanctum. If we have to transport Odhranos we can without any issue, though I would prepare something to receive him in ahead of time if I were you before then.”

Kasyr tsks, though it's less at the sudden burst of emotion, and more from the fact that it coaxed him into driving the stirring spoon through the bottom of the mug, parting the cup into a slew of uneven shards. ...Which he soon transitions into tapping as the proceedings continue. Of those who speak, it's Kannas' declaration that earns a response first, "If they can be reminded of who they are, or even placated, I'm certain they could find a home in Vailkrin- though, were there any who continued to spread that disease, I'd hold them accountable in the same manner as those who create masterless thralls." There's a pause here, the Kensai's gaze flickering over towards the Countess to gauge her reaction to his declaration, even as he continues, "And if a cure ultimately isn't found for the many, it may fall on you to discern the few who can be saved. I ultimately have no qualms with wiping the board clean of those sorry souls who've been pressed into service as pawns to-" The Kensai cuts off there, before deigning to acknowledge Lanlan in the only meaningful way he can, "The Great Turd. If it forces a reprisal, it might provide me a target." Beyond that, however- he's content to listen. More than, if the faint smirk marking his face is any indication, as Quintessa barrels into Lanlan with a ferocity that is well and truly overdue. And yet, that look of amusement only lasts for a moment, replaced instead by a weird sort of pity. What had he ultimately achieved with that, other than forcing a permanent vacation on the swordsman. And now, well- "If we're making requests of our *Ahem* Acting Archmage/Sublime master, I'd appreciate if you could deliver the box of my notes et stuff back. There -were- some things relevant to the matter at hand that I'd like returned to me. Since, at the end of the day, I -am- going to be obliged to face him. I'd like to do so armed." Checkmate, Lan. Now you're obliged to cough up the goods later, or be forced to explain this off. A -very- weird sort of pity, tinged with mischievous malice.

Khitti accepted Kanna’s hug wordlessly, her bottom lip quivering somewhat. After the ghoul vacated the space around her, Khitti leaned her head over onto Val’s shoulder and stared off at the far wall as everyone around her spoke. She regretted speaking up and yelling at Quintessa. At being vulnerable in front of people she barely knew. More tears fell as she listened to their plan. Khitti had no real input there. She’d just do as she was told when the time was right. If she didn’t, she could very well fall back into that dark place she’d been in, in her home village, where she’d been forced to put down the undead forms of friends, family, and neighbors after she’d finally freed herself from her several years of captivity amongst the necromancers and their mindflayer master. Khitti needed them to point her in the right direction. Eventually, she did speak up, but she only addressed Kanna. “Congrats,” she said, giving a half-hearted wave of her hand. “As Provectus Malus, I grant you the rank of Thanadule. Take whatever you need. I have seen the things you can do and I’ll see even more still, when we deal with the zombies and the Xalious tree. I expect Tessa would agree with me, since she has been with you the longest.” She pushed herself up from her chair and gathered her dishes. “I’m sorry. I--” Khitti looked down at her dirty plate and coffee cup, crimson brows knitted together. “I need to go home…” As then, she headed back to the kitchen, and from there back to her room to gather her things.

Kanna feels conflicted as the new title of Thanadule is bestowed. She was certainly powerful, but it was only due to the condition that was inflicted upon her, the one she was actively searching to undo. As the necromancer departs from the table, Kanna directs her words to Quintessa, “I apologize for any offense, dear. I was unsure if maybe something like that might be hidden away with the more powerful members or not.” Turning to Lanlan, she winces. “Don’t say his name so loud, or--” From deeper within the fortress, the distinct sound of a cat wailing with sadness can be heard. “--Never mind.” Kanna makes a face as she sips from the intricate teacup. “She’ll be fine, but Valrae is right; the spells used to contain them cannot be refreshed forever. Until the new moon, then.” The bardess takes another sip of tea and winces. Strangely, green tea had always been her favorite, but now it tasted sour.

Valrae’s heart aches as Khitti rests her head on her shoulder. She leans over to gently press her temple to the top of her head, offering her quiet support. They were both clearly at a breaking point here. She shudders as Lan speaks, suddenly cold. “I would have come.” She looks between Lanlan and Kasyr, her face suddenly intense and her eyes dark. “I would have come and I would have done what needed to be done. I still would, knowing what I do now. It’s insulting that you would suggest I might not. For any of you.” She says the last part slowly, focusing on Lanlan as she did. “I am many things but I am not a coward.” The witch nearly finishes with an actual ‘huff’ but instead hides her scowl behind her mug. She doesn’t even flinch when Lan exclaims her name, only tilts her chin higher with resolve. “My faith is with Kanna.” She sent the ghoul a delicate smile, “I’m not worried but I see no sense in letting this pestilence linger in our home any longer. Action must be taken.” The fragility she’d worn before was hidden away now, something she could no longer afford sitting at this table. She’d dissolve into hysterics alone, and pull herself back together alone, as she always had. The matter of Odhranos caught her attention. She nods along with Lan, a rare show of agreement. “He should be returned to the Mage’s Guild. It’s a delicate situation, the less the public knows about his absence the better.” It hurt her to speak of her friend so coldly. As if he were a pawn to be shuffled around, a piece of a larger game and not a person, but what more could be done for him? But it was Quintessa’s turn to speak. That chill that had settled over Valrae returns now. She felt defensive of Lan, if it was because of the harrowing ordeal they’d gone through together or the newness of their bond she did not know, but the witch found herself edging closer to him in her seat. Her eyes lock onto Quintessa, gaze steady. “If the Mages have a book that belongs to the Necromancers, it should be returned obviously. Nearly everyone here is a member of both guilds, it’s in all of our interests that both guilds thrive, is it not?” She looks around the room quickly, hoping to defuse the new tension. It wouldn’t be her place to comment on titles, especially considering she had no idea what Quintessa had meant. It wasn’t until Kasyr spoke that the pieces clicked into place. Anger burned in her belly. Her breath hisses out as she looks at Lanlan. She says nothing for a long moment as Khitti exits the room. “I’ll see your things are returned to you, Kasyr.” The words were spoken as a threat. The witch snatches up her case of cigarettes as she stands. “If that’s all-” A statement that offered room for further comment that Valrae clearly would not stick around for and was merely a formality, “Congratulations Kanna. Farewell to the lot of you. I’m going home.” She pauses, narrowing her eyes at Lanlan. “I’ll be in touch.” With that, she sails out of the room. Lanlan has in a matter of moments, returned to his comfort zone. Most people in the room were mad at him just like usual. It brings him life! He stands up in light of Quintessa’s accusations and ire, but he keeps his tone affable. “You’re right, that would be fair. I’ll be sure to acquire it and place it in… trustworthy hands. It would be terrible to give it to the wrong person, because if ‘The Great Defier’ gets its dirty proboscis on it and uses it against us, that would be terrible.” And then to Kasyr, he simply lies. It’s as easy for him as breathing. “Of course, you can have your things whenever you like. Or Valrae can bring them to you! Whichever is easier.” He smiles at Valrae and Kasyr, sickening smiles, and he knows it. “But! We should depart on a happy note shouldn’t we? Congratulations Kanna! You’ve climbed up another rung!” He is about to leave with Valrae, eager for the chance to spin things in his favor. “I’ll walk you out,” he says. Until she insists that she’ll be in touch, and halts him in place. He turns to face his cursed colleagues to cover this awkward moment. “Thank you all again, this was very productive, um, and I look forward to next time!” Now that Valrae has been given a headstart, he leaves too. Warily, in case of angry witches waiting in ambush.

Quintessa relaxes in her seat but a cold aggressiveness remains in her aura, even when the dejected form of Khitti speaks of leaving and the changeling actually feels bad about snapping back at her. Unable to find the words to make things better she remains silent, taking in everyone’s words and nodding at Kasyr’s promise to take in orderly ghouls until Kanna was promoted, to which the warlock agrees with Khitti’s prior assessment. “Your contributions put mine to shame, truly. This rank is well deserved. And do not worry, I was not offended I just…” Quintessa’s voice falters, her confidence seemingly at its end. “I worry. I worry far too much. Book or no book we will explore the unknown territories of magic just as our forebearers did, for they had no path to guide them either. All we can do is try.” When Valrae brings up Odhranos again she seems to buckle a little under the pressure of keeping him housed here knowing it was a costly and dangerous endeavor for her. “I just wish he’d wake the frak up…” The changeling breaths, looking to Valrae for an answer she does not have. After a moment of silence Quintessa stares at the floor, her lips quivering a tiny bit before the words finally slip out. “Caluss’s gaze is fixed upon me- it always is. The fewer things you give to me that It can twist against us later the better.” The warlock hopes this undefensive admittance will catch Lanlan off guard. She had not been derailed at all; she still had one bargaining chip she intended to use. As Lanlan tries to exit she calls after him, already a cruel grin spreading on her face. “Aren’t you forgetting something, O Sublime Master?” On the table before her there now rests a small chest that was not there a second ago, the lid lifted open to show a limp Xalious staff coiled like a snake inside. Before Lanlan can even utter a word Quintessa snaps it shut and gestures back to his seat. “Let’s talk a bit more about the Mage’s Guild, shall we?”

Lanlan was going to pay no mind to her admittance, imagining it was a ploy to gain sympathy from the others. Not from him, however. "I'm glad we're on the same page," he says, continuing on his way. But she lures him back, something about her tone. He turns nonchalantly, certain that he's said everything he needs to, and catches but a glimpse, and feels the pull of something that's his. He snaps his hand out to pull it toward him from across the room, tugging on the connection he shares to it. The box closes and lurches forward, but she keeps it. She's had it this whole time? He thought it was lost forever, and now he sees that it has been kept from him. Spitefully. Before he overreacts, he considers that he's in her domain, and the powers that would enforce his claim are on his side. He walks calmly and stands before the table the chest rests on. "And what is it you'd like to discuss?" His tone is amicable, and his countenance is even, but for his nostrils that flare widely.

The magic runes on the small wooden chest glow orange as the staff inside shakes around, the magical locks doing all they can to resist Lanlan’s call to his rightful object. This amuses the changeling, but she doesn’t goad the half-drow any further; She had him exactly where she wanted. A tangled web she had been spinning for nearly three years finally brought her and Lanlan together. “I want to discuss the future, of course, and my place in it.” The grin she was holding fades into a serious line, her eyes flickering to the exit to make sure everyone was gone before she leans forward, a subtle challenge to Lanlan’s inner anger. “You’ve been there ever since the beginning. You know the moral sacrifices I’ve made for the Mage’s Guild. I was seventeen when they pulled me in, a fresh recruit, deep into a war I knew absolutely nothing about- and though I was rewarded for that I have been spat upon ever since. And the nightmares, Lanlan, the nightmares never go away, and the Guild? The guild doesn’t help you with those either. You have to push on. You have to continue to make sacrifices but when I make sacrifices I am still treated like the urchin I was when I first stumbled upon the tower. I am disrespected by mages I could carve into tiny pieces all because they call themselves a Provost and have held a stagnate position for half a decade. My accomplishments have always spoken for themselves and they were ignored, but alas now we find ourselves free of the tyranny of the old guard. When Arh’Nuk reaches their crest in a few weeks it will symbolize the rebirth of our guild, Lanlan, and you specifically have been gifted the privilege of being guardian to this new ward- at least for the time being. The only question is this; Will you reward those who helped reclaim the guild or will you continue the tradition of exploiting those who helped get you where you stand today?”

Lanlan remained stoic during her speech, something that would’ve been hard for him once. Now, when wasting words could be painful, it was easier to choose his more carefully. Staying calm and aware also allows him to take heed of the runes glowing around the box. Surprised by this presentation of sincerity, Lanlan does his best to meet her there. “I understand where you’re coming from, all too well. I myself stagnated as an apprentice so long I’d given up hope of being properly recognized.” He shrugs, obviously that didn’t trouble him any longer. “But the war back then is similar to the one we face now. Freedom is what we fight for and what we fought for. And no one can deny your abilities!” He was smiling generously, but it fades quickly. “But…there are questions about your loyalty.” His doubts, mainly. Perhaps exclusively, she did get him banished from the guild, for a time. “Your open disdain for the guild leadership is noted,” he scoffs, “and you’re in possession of something that is mine,” he says, poking the top of the box with his finger, “while telling me why you deserve more than what you have, more permissions, more trust. Obviously there would be consequences for this! But…” He ponders her closely, considering how to proceed. “Maybe instead I’ll thank you for finding it for me, though I’ve long made due without it.” He taps his finger on the table a couple times, before a celebratory smile forms across his face. “Fine, I’ll give you what you want. You deserve it and it’s time we move on from the past isn’t it? Of course it is. But I want something else. When the branch of necromancy split from the Mage’s Guild, they took with them knowledge which is desirable to me. Phobomancy, I think they call it now. I want access.” He rises, confident that the terms are fair...enough “If we are agreed, then you may stand with me on the podium come the Commencement Ceremony. And as a gesture of good faith…” He causes the box containing his staff to jiggle a little.

Quintessa returns Lanlan’s stoicism, offering no immediate reaction to his words even when he questions her loyalty, though when he mentions his interest in Phobomancy her head tilts slightly to the side, a curious gleam forming involuntarily in her eyes. This was certainly not something she expected to hear. When he finishes speaking Quintessa takes her time to respond, her gaze drifting off to the floor as she considers her answer. “Fear magic is an advanced art,” she begins, no pushback present in her voice as she locks eyes with him yet again, “Even if I gave you access you would likely drive yourself insane before you could successfully cast a spell from that domain… Having said that, I am not opposed. You would need to join the Necromancer’s Guild, even if only on paper, and I would have to teach you how to wield the Dark Arts successfully.” There is real concern in Quintessa’s voice and it doesn’t seem like this worry comes from a place of patronization. It would be all too easy to trick Lanlan, to give him a book he couldn’t understand and let him struggle to practice an artform that could end his life with a simple miscast, but that is not Quintessa’s aim. Not only does she want to form a lasting alliance but the changeling was also not one to trivialize her field of study, taking necromancy extremely seriously. Pale fingers trace around the edge of the square chest before her until she slides it forward, the hot, orange runes evaporating until the locks are nullified. “I’ve been meaning to return this to you for a long time,” she admits, a hint of bashfulness as she breaks eye contact to look at the table. “But then things became complicated. You didn’t know you were mocking Luffy’s death back then, did you? You weren’t there when she… I was unfortunate enough to witness her being torn apart by the blasphemous Razurath magic extracted from their own noncombatants- children slaughtered to deny us our final victory. I became emotional when her death was made into a joke, doubly so when I had to pull Kasyr from Gevurah’s manor to save his life. I was a little girl in too deep back then- I was confused and scared and the only thing that made me feel better was to lash out at anyone I could. All those Drow that had nothing to do with our disagreements, I killed them without a second thought. I even made a deal with Caluss to guarantee my security, a pact to counter the followers of Vakmatharas at Its behest… but that only led to more suffering all around. I’m through continuing this cycle of violence, I’m through fighting someone whom I consider a valuable ally. This bickering between us- we gain nothing by engaging in it.” Sapphire and garnet eyes flicker back up to look at Lanlan from betweeth black lashes, a glossiness present in them that the warlock could not hide. “Remember when I was an apprentice? We rode in a carriage all the way from Xalious to Cenril just talking the entire time on the way to some mission. We were friends back then- I miss that. I hope that this agreement isn’t just professional but personal too. What do you think of that?”

Lanlan was able to keep his composure despite what he perceived as red tape being wrapped around his requests, even as he was preparing to cut some for her. He maintains a shrewd but paradoxical smile... Until she mentions Luffy. "I wasn't mocking her I was mocking him!" He nearly shouts as he rises out of his seat and turns his back to her, the feelings of that time being instantly recalled to him, as if it just happened. "I didn't even know she was dead, he just used that as an excuse to attack me because he hates me." There was no going back now. "And then after having my body possessed, defiled, then discarded in a desert, I'm welcomed back by a kangaroo court!" He scoffs. The injustice! "Denigrated by my colleagues and former friends... And exiled. Of course that was what the Ossian Order wanted... But you were all willing pawns!" His chest heaves as his one good lung tries to keep up with his passion. "And of course I remember that carriage ride! Even then I knew you were exceptional and if I'd been leader then you wouldn't have been languishing like you have been. Like I had been--for much longer I might add." He's practically panting now, carving deep gashes into the wind with his finger as he speaks. "And I won't be doing that again. So I'll join as a consultant, not an apprentice, fear might be advanced magic here but in Tristoth it's standard." Of course the Drow weren't known for their sanity. "I'll have as much to teach as I have to learn. I have no doubt." Was he forgetting anything? "And kill all the Drow you want, I'm done with them. Most of them." One day he'll lure the members of his former house out of hiding, reunite them that scattered. He sits back down, still breathing heavily. He huffs through his nose, and regains a measure of composure, though it's fragile. "Deal?"

Quintessa only stares up at Lanlan from across the table as he raises out of his seat, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth as he brings up the changeling’s role in having Lanlan disbarred from the guild. She wants to defend her actions from back then, but she doesn’t immediately blurt it out, she merely purses her lips until he sits back down. Leaning back into her seat she idly traces a finger across those pale lips. “He doesn’t hate you,” she says, her tone cool and emotionless, “You would not be sitting here today if he did.” That was all Quintessa was willing to say about Kasyr at this moment, this was not about him. “And I wasn’t aware of the Ossian Order when I worked to have you ejected from the Mage’s Guild, our goals just happened to align in that moment and they helped me get even. That was for revenge, Lanlan, pure and simple. You harmed a lover of mine so I used whatever tool I could to hurt you back… But none of that matters anymore. I have a new lover now and you better not even think about hurting her in the same way. You do that and I can guarantee I won’t rest until one of us is in the ground, understand?” The warlock doesn’t wait for an answer to her rhetorical question, her tone growing more threatening when she references Karasu. “And the advanced arts just means they are more restricted- I was born being able to do some fear magic but if they catch me sharing Necromancer Guild secrets with an outsider they’ll execute us both- use our skin to cover tomes. I want to keep my skin, Lanlan, so this precaution is necessary.” Quintessa’s paranoia causes her to look over her shoulder as if expecting to see someone besides the two of them in this room. “Anyway, I think we have a deal. We both get what we want this way… Except one more thing.” A devious gleam appeared in her eyes now that her partner was on her mind. “What about Karasu’s role in the Mage Guild’s future? Her loyalty has never come into question yet time and time again she fell victim to the same treatment we were. In fact, if not for her the Spellblade Corp. wouldn’t even exist anymore. You mustn’t forget her either. If you agree with this then we have a deal.”

He’d only just sat back down after his tirade, but when Quintessa tells him he wouldn’t be sitting here if Kasyr actually hated him? He presses his palms against the table and rises once more. The evidence is incontrovertible! “I understand why you did it and I don’t care anymore. Everything’s been made right.” He was sublime master, Kasyr is exiled. Justice has been served. Though he audibly groans when she calls him her lover, then dismisses with a slack hand her concern about him possibly hurting her new lover in the future. “Oh, Karasu’s never stopped hating me since I made her kill that rune-spotted jaguar a lifetime ago. It’s totally one sided! And I’ve tried to fix it but…” He manifests remorse in his eyes and turns up his hands hopelessly. “I said I’ll join, our skin won’t cover anything more than our bones,” he assures her, and he extends one glove colored like saffron and warm to the touch…before she inserts one last stipulation. “Are you sure she even wants that…? I’ll talk to her in the coming days to get her assent then, I’m sure her achievements will be found more than worthy.” Once they shake hands (or do whatever it is to affirm the accord), Lanlan almost timidly stretches his fingers toward the box, pushing the lid open just a crack. He breathes just a smidge of his power into it, channeled through swiveling fingers. The box is pushed open further from the inside as his enchanted ‘staff’ slithers out of the box and coils up his arm like a python. “I was almost ready to borrow the Archmage’s…” he says with a snort. Then he meets her eyes, offers a slight bow, and departs.

“That was my fault,” the changeling laments when Lanlan brings up the invisible jaguar, whose hide she still wore nearly every day. “I slayed that beast with my own hands, and for no other reason than because it was the quickest route to victory. I did not care what evidence could be gathered or what machinations had caused that creature to exist. I was reckless, and because of that the jaguar died for no other reason but than to serve as my grim trophy. I think about that every time I wrap my cloak around my shoulders. About the day I ignored diplomacy. The day I chose violence… It hurt Karasu in a way I could not predict and from then on I have always listened to her when she tells me not to kill someone… You should not have to bear the burden of my own mistakes, so I’ll talk to her… and yes, you should do the same. Discover for yourself how dedicated she is to the Guild. Xalious has always been her home, Lanlan, it killed her inside to watch Haladavar tear it apart and usurp the tower. I am certain that Karasu wants to be part of its future.” Quintessa watches as the staff coils around its master’s arm, a strange satisfaction growing inside her when she sees the two reunited. She quickly stamps out this feeling. “Farewell, Sublime Master. I look forward to all our future endeavors.”

Retrieved from "https://www.hollowgame.com/w/index.php?title=RP:Until_It_Wakes,_We_Must_Continue&oldid=127947"