RP:What is Rightfully Mine, Refused

Part of the Lies Within Us Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Summary: On foot of her involvement in acquiring the Larketian mage-hopeful, the very same assignment that paved the way for Odhranos' promotion to Magister, Quintessa feels that the Council has overlooked her achievements, to the point that she visits Administrator Brenwyn to request the promotion she believes she is overdue. Instead of the accolades she rightfully deserves, the changeling is met with insult and scorn, sowing the seed of dissent in the Countess' heart.

(NPCing by Karasu and Odhranos)

Mage Tower

Quintessa Dragana fidgets impatiently in her office, her sharpened fingernails tapping against the cherry wood of her desk as she awaits a messenger, or missive, or -something- from the Mage's Counsel summoning her to reward her for her loyalty. In the changeling's mind, it was she who saved that mission, who had twisted that magical boy around her pinky and incapacitated him when he had second thoughts, so when word got to her that Odhranos had been promoted to Magister, Quintessa thought it was only a matter of time before they spoke to her about a promotion too. Time slips by, but still no word. "...Elazul's Bite..." Quintessa curses as she rises to her feet, her left hand gripping to the sheath of her katana as the soft click of her heels echoes throughout the room. If the administrator would not come to her, then the stewardess would come to him. Her messy raven hair sways in the wind from the speed in which she travels down the hall, her long legs taking much larger steps than she would have normally, but Quintessa was out of patience. She was here to collect what she felt she was entitled to, and as the changeling stops before the door, her pale, lithe hand clenches into a fist to knock. "Administrator Brenwyn?" the odd girl's voice rings out, unsure if he was even in today, "Do you have a moment? There is something we must speak about."

Odhranos|| No response is forthcoming from the door for a handful of moments, enough that Quintessa might either knock again or presume the Administrator weren't present. Either way, once enough time has passed that Quintessa begins to doubt, the door unlocks and swings open slowly, just as Brenwyn's imperious laughter bursts out the door. "Yes, quite right, Tsuji, quite right. Ah, it seems we have a guest. Steward Dragana, to what do we owe this pleasure?" Brenwyn sits behind his desk, composed as if carved by a mason, resplendent in severe elven robes, the high collar of which accentuates the thin cheeks of the human man. Facing him, Provost Kaaname is seated, presumably the two had been in discussion prior to Quintessa's knock, though the walls were evidently enchanted in such a way that sound could enter, but not leave. "Come in, a doorway is poor place for conversation." Once Quintessa has entered, Brenwyn gestures towards the door, which swings closed without so much as a click. An empty chair flanks the Provost, but Brenwyn makes no move to offer it.

Karasu || To young apprentices and fledgling mages visiting from distant lands to glean information from the public access of the Tower’s grand library, Kaaname Tsuji was a doting instructor that cared greatly for the success of arcane-welding students. One of his newer tasks seemed to revolve around keeping a certain young lad from breaking into hysterics during his impromptu sabbatical away from Larket, much to the Provost’s own chagrin, not that he would ever speak a word of complaint against it. In light of recent events, there was much to be discussed with Brenwyn and the other councilmen in private, but the walls of the Mage’s Tower were always listening. For now, the pair’s lighthearted discussion is placed on hold at the entrance of the young spell-blade. The Provost turns to the door, his smile unwavering. “Ah, Countess and Steward Dragana. Always a pleasure to see you.” There is the slightest of emphasis on the word ‘countess’ as he bows his head to her. A robed arm is extended to the seat opposite him across the desk. From beneath the robe, there is the slightest of glimpses of an iron bangle hangs from his wrist, engraved in runic markings; a reminder to Quintessa of what lay behind the false pretenses of good will. “How have your studies fared? I take it your Compendium is going well?”

Quintessa has gotten surprisingly good at hiding her distaste whenever she sees Kanaame, but her bile still threatens to bubble up her esophagus as her mismatched eyes bare into him. Were they talking about her? As her form glides into the room and the door closes behind her, the changeling manages to maintain her calm composure, her hands folded politely behind her back. Quintessa would not sit until directly asked to, instead looming over them with a false sense of power entwined in her aura. It made her feel more confident to look down upon them the way she did her servants and vassals. "Yes, a pleasure as well," The hex blade lies with a smile, her sapphire and topaz eyes gleaming as they flicker between the two men. "My progress continues," she says, vaguely answering the Provost's question as her gaze grows more devious. "Between forays into Larket and keeping my attention on fugitives." It was clear what Quintessa was hinting to; She felt she was owed something. "I still manage to find time to improve my magical prowess. Some would even say my skills outshine that of any other Arcane Steward in the guild." Her expression remains false and unchanged, but her mismatched optics betrayed her true feelings. "Some would say I rival the Provosts, even." Quintessa wastes no time continuing. "Which is why I came here today," She focuses this at the Administrator, "I request to be promoted to the rank of Provost Esoterica."

/|| Brenwyn steeples his fingers, resting his chin on the pads of his thumbs as Quintessa launches into her spiel. The Administrator's face shows no reaction; if anything he seems to be bored with the proceedings, silently encouraging Quintessa to get to her point. When she does so, the silence hangs heavy in the room. Brenwyn breaks the silence with a long nasal sigh, followed up by a slow intake of breath as he winds himself up to respond. Surprisingly, he doesn't do so at first, instead reaching for the top drawer in his desk, drawing out a pair of sheets, covered in neatly penned script, both headed by the deep violet seal of the Larketian Academy. "Yes, your foray in Larket has become somewhat of a talking point between myself and Master Percival as of late." Brenwyn lifts the pages from the desk and scans them with hooded eyes. "If you'll recall, Steward Dragana, when I assigned yourself and Magister Odhranos with this task, I impressed upon you that every measure was to be taken to convince the boys father of the wisdom of sending his child to Xalious. Now, it would seem that the father was not merely unconvinced, but upon discovering that his son had disappeared, he saw fit to run to the Larketian Crown and report that young Peter had been kidnapped." Brenwyn pinches the bridge of his nose as he places the sheets back on the desk. "As a result of this, I have it in good faith that Macon himself plans to storm into Xalious village, likely with an army at his back." Brenwyn lifts his eyes to Quintessa's, fixing her with a laconic glare. "And yet, you deem this an appropriate time to visit my office and request that you be promoted? Do pardon me, I must be unaware of a recent change in ruling. Please do tell me when the other administrator started handing promotions out to any and all who asked for them?" Brenwyn shakes his head and waves towards the door, which opens again. "Your request is denied. Goodday, Steward." The title is punctuated with a curt finality, Brenwyn clearly expects little more from the conversation.

Karasu || Kaaname reclines back against the chair as Quintessa relays her pitch for promotion. Similar to the motions of Brenwyn, his hands fold over his lap as he regards the Countess with a disinterested gaze. Once Brenwyn delivers his verdict, he raises a finger, presumably to cut off a protest that the Steward would make. His other hand rests on his knee, and he gives a slight groan as he rises to his feet. Towering a few inches over Quintessa, his own icy eyes stare down at her in disappointment. “On top of the kidnapping that we already have to cover for, we have found ourselves tasked with keeping young Peter from breaking into hysterics every day since while we arrange for a safe transportation home. From what he has told me, you quote unquote ‘blew a strange powder into his face’ when he requested to go home.” He gives his head a shake as his arms cross behind his back. “I have heard many tales from your many expeditions out in Lithrydel, but in all your little endeavors, you seem to have forgotten which guild you were assisting. This is most certainly not the Necromancer’s Guild. We cannot condone the use of a poison that could have killed a child if the wrong dosage had been used, Quintessa. I think I speak for Brenwyn and myself when I say that we can only thank our lucky stars that Odhranos had been there.” With his scolding seemingly complete, he grips both arms of the chair to seat himself again. “Perhaps you should consider limiting your fields of study to prevent such a mix-up from happening again.”

Quintessa stares at Brenwyn, her counterfeit smile slowly fading away at the cold reaction she was given. The changeling expected a lot of things from this request; First hesitation, then deliberation, and eventually acceptance of her clear superiority. What she was hearing did not fall within her worldview. In short, Quintessa is utterly in disbelief. "...I beg your pardon?" Her voice wavers, a torrent of emotions held back by a paper-thin dam that was her resolve. The changeling unfolds her arms, her delicate hands trembling with this new mix of emotions. Hate, heartbreak, disappointment, betrayal, depression, and the distinct feeling of homicidal ideation. Quintessa feels herself spinning, the world a blur around her despite her not actually moving- she couldn't, the Stewardess was frozen standing here. "No," she shakes her head, not accepting the denial, "That can't be right..." When Kanaame speaks, however, Quintessa's sense of control shatters. Her shaking hands immediately reach for the Jubaku no Kijo, gripping the sheath and hilt tightly in her grasp as her face shifts from neutral to one of sheer rage. "You stay out of this- you wretched scobberlotcher!" she growls at him. "You're lucky to still be haunting this place after you threatened to kill me. And don't you dare speak of my endeavors as if they are a trivial thing compared your petty schemes within these very walls, you useless hypocrite!" The Administrator would be spared the brunt of her tongue lashing for now, but she hadn't forgotten about him. "You must reconsider," she pleads, her emotions shifting in her desperation. "Odhranos is a mere quill-shepherd, if I wasn't there he would have failed. That Larketian brat would still be in Larket and you'd be holding me back for it." The changeling can't suppress the low growl that's building in her throat. "Unless that was the whole point. I went to war for the Mage's Guild, I took part in that ploy to eject Lanlan, and I invade enemy territory on their orders and after successfully completing the mission -this- is how they reward me?" Quintessa is a second away from trying to kill these men, but she knows deep down she'd only be able to slay one of them. When her mismatched eyes shift to Kanaame she knows she has made her choice. She could put everything she has into her first attack, a sunburst hot enough to singe the chair he was sitting in as the vampire was utterly annihilated. Brenwyn would surely take the opening and slay her right after though, a powerful elemental blast at point blank range would do the trick. It would be a pyric victory but at least Karasu and Kanna would be safe. Quintessa never draws her sword, the prediction that she could only kill one of them holding her back. "I have bled and killed for the Mage's Guild since I was recruited. I deserve this promotion!"

Odhranos || Brenwyn doesn't so much as lift a finger, nor raise an eyebrow as Quintessa explodes, weathering the storm with only an expression of slight displeasure. Even when the changeling's expression flares with a snarl that belays a wish to blast Kaaname to smithereens, the administrator does not act. The air pressure in the room seems to multiply, giving the impression that the very walls are pressing in, as Brenwyn becomes bathed in a cold, baleful light of multitude of runes and sigils, now arrayed across every surface of the room. Ceiling, floor, desks, even the chair that Kaaname sits in, all festooned with multiple intricate runes, a defensive warding that feeds off magic, powering itself further. "Quintessa. I would advise you take a moment and calm yourself before you make a decision you might regret." Brenwyn's voice is cool and measured, as he raises a hand and points three fingers upwards. "Aggression." He intones, curling one finger inwards. "Paranoia." Another finger is lowered. "And most of all, Instability." Now, merely a clenched fist is raised, as Brenwyn stares down Quintessa. "All qualities that would prove a liability to the Guild." Brenwyn straightens his robes and pushed his chair out from the desk, standing and pacing around the table to face Quintessa. "I will admit, you have both skill and ambition in abundance, but until such time as you prove stable, you will remain at the rank you have been assigned. Shepherd some quills if you must. At least there is slim chance of a political disaster there." Brenwyn turns to regard the runes, now dimming as they retreat into the woodwork. "As for this little outburst, it will remain within these walls and we will not speak of this matter further. Unless you wish for another disgrace like that drow's exile." In a rare show of emotion, Brenwyn's eyes flash angrily, as a sudden spasm of hate flushes through his face at the mere thought of Lanlan. "Are we finished here, Steward?"

Karasu || A look of disgust crossed with pity flashes across Kaaname’s face as Quintessa’s malleable resolve bends to what he considered to be a gentle let-down. When her hand grips the handle of her sword, he simply lifts an arm from the comfort of the guest chair. A single bangle rises itself from its perch on his arm and rises up into his palm, poised to throw should he see so much as a sliver of steel from her sword. Already fed up with the pathetic display, he does little more than glower at her as she boldly outs his supposed conspiracy within the guild. The sigils give off a faint glow that when combined, paint the room in ominous hues and cast shadows across the faces of the councilmen. “To be openly considering drawing a sword on your mentors. How disappointing. I know you disagree with my methods for finding my daughter, but to call it a scheme is outright disrespectful to someone you wish to stand on equal ground with.” He gives a long sigh before reconsidering the item’s use and letting it fall back into place. His eyes turn wistful as he seems to consider something else. “I can only pray that my daughter did not pick up those traits from you before she went on her... expedition.”

Quintessa's dark aura pours off of her body like a waterfall of faint mist only to defuse itself on the Administrators defensive wards. Still, the changeling still clings to her weapon as she considers cutting Brenwyn's fingers from his hand one at a time. "This is outrageous!" she hisses, "It's unfair!" She takes a step toward the Administrator to lean closer, "It's you who's finished." She threatens with her tone, venom dripping from every syllable as she slides closer to Kaaname. "And you-" She grins, her mouthful of sharp teeth flashing down at him as her hand finally lifts from her sword to brush her dark fringe from her eyes. "When my -real- mentors, the Veneficuses, hear about this you'll be lucky if they find your fangs afterward. You won't have to worry about either of your daughters then, will you?" Quintessa voice lowers to a hush, her next words very personal. "Karasu is mine now- and trust me, I'm going to be rubbing off on her a lot more in the coming weeks. You'll be lucky if you -ever- see her again." The hex blade steps away, drifting backwards for the door. "Am I dismissed?" She asks, her aura spiking with hostile energy as she stares at them with a sinister smile. "Or have you more ways to insult me before I take my leave?" When Quintessa left this room she was going to plot against them in a big way.

Odhranos || Brenwyn raises an eyebrow as he gestures towards the door. "I don't remember summoning you, Steward. But consider yourself dismissed, if you please."

Karasu || Kaaname returns the taunt with a cold smile. The changeling’s pure and unadulterated hatred of the Provost seems to drip off of him as naturally as the act of the doting instructor did once Quintessa rescinded her support of Vakmatharas. “Do as you wish. The Mage’s Guild has no use for a coward. But do inform her that her position will be stripped by the next Celestial Celebration Ball if she does not return.” Turning his attention to Brenwyn, his smile relaxes. “Now then, shall we continue where we left off?”

Quintessa grinds her teeth loudly as her head twitches to the side. "Yes, Administrator," she hisses robotically through her teeth. "I'll see you both very soon. Very soon..." The hex blade is practically brimming with pent-up aggression as she turns on her heels, her mana sparking as she prepares to open the door. "Dymchwel!" Quintessa screams, her mystical aura pulsing violently to sunder the wooden door and knock it from its hinges, causing it to slam upon the opposite wall in a ruined heap. As the changeling skulks into the halls, her aura of darkness consumes the light all around her, creating an ominous haze that follows her form through the Mage's Tower. By now, everyone knew to avoid Quintessa when she's in this state. Definitely don't make eye contact with her. Just ignore her till she goes away. Soon the changeling is back within the confines of her office, already reaching for the cigarettes again. Was there a point to quitting? After the conversation she just had, it was either smoke a cigarette or murder a Provost, and Quintessa was confident she could get away with sneaking a cigarette. For now, this clove flavored smoke shall be her only escape from her frustrations until the pieces were in place for her delicious revenge.