RP:When the Moons Come Over the Tower
Part of the Once Upon a Midnight Dreary Arc
Summary: Quintessa summons a mighty kraken at the base of the Forsaken Beacon whose ancient wisdom helps shape the young spellcaster's mind.
The Forsaken Beacon
The eroded, rocky cliffs meet the ocean here, the dreary, grey horizon broken by the tall silhouette of a massive tower jutting out of the sea. It stretches high into the sky, one-hundred meters of dilapidated, windswept stone defying the ravages of nature and time. Once a functioning lighthouse at the height of Vhysian maritime supremacy, the lens and lantern once housed at the top has long been lost, resting at the bottom of the sea along with countless other relics from a time all but forgotten. Forlorn shipwrecks litter the coastline around it, their bows sticking out of the waters they are submerged in, attracting countless aquatic creatures to thrive inside of the ruins. As one draws closer to the Forsaken Beacon it becomes clear that the tower is not rising out of the ocean but rather a small island just off the coast, covered in the remains of a black stone fortress of unknown origin, using this strange, oily stone as the foundation of the lighthouse. This ebon stone seems to emanate an unsettling aura, a peculiar energy emanating from it, its darkness absorbing the surrounding light and casting an eerie contrast against the rest of the tower. It glistens with a slickness that seems to defy explanation, as if infused with otherworldly properties. Those who dare venture close enough to touch it report it feeling cold and uncanny, its texture reminiscent of liquid and solid merging into a strange amalgamation. This greasy, black stone base clearly holds ancient secrets within, hinting at forbidden power and captivating the attention of Vhysian scholars since their ancestors first settled this area eons ago and discovered it. The Forsaken Beacon is not exactly safe enough to explore, but without guards or a warden to look after it none can stop you if you choose.
Quintessa Blackwell stands at the foot of the Forsaken Beacon, the newest scholar to come and investigate it. She skulks in the dead of night, the moons Vaalane and Arh'Nuk looming above, casting their verdescent and crimson glow down to illuminate the tiny island– though the changeling does not need it. She is from a land of eternal darkness, a foreigner here in Vhys but somehow she feels at home here. She feels at peace so far from Vailkrin. Ebon sands shift under her bare feet as she moves away from the abandoned lighthouse, gazing up at the mostly clear sky to trace the constellations with her finger, a smile gracing her lips as she gazes up at the Web of Arachne. "Oh... Another year has passed so soon." She utters to the stars as if they were listening, only just now noticing she had forgotten her own name day. "Two and Twenty. How far I've come... How far I've fallen... But now I have all the pieces in place, Dear Arachne. My own web is spun, now I just wait..."
The Countess's mismatched eyes sink from the sky to gaze at the waves, a soft hum of contentment as she watches the broken and sunken ships sway in the distance, barely visible in the high tide. She stands here, deep in contemplation about the events of the past year when something relevant comes to the surface, a subject of interest– a few in fact. The Goddess Selene, the seaborn, the slaver-pirates hired by Maggie the Magpie, all of it. The ocean contained so many secrets that Quintessa had always been unwilling to explore. Too terrified to venture this close to the sea, but here she was. After being an undead godlet's prisoner in the Realm of Chaos few things in the material realm phased her. She takes another step forward, the cold sea water rushing in to caress her ankles as she parts her lips to call out a single word.
"MAC!!"
For some time, in the moonlit dark, Quintessa’s only company on that strange and ebon shore is a susurrus of ghostly moon-bats overhead, the creatures vacating their daylight cliffsides, haunts and belfries to spread their eerie translucent wings across the sea, long claws dragging the surface in hope of snaring a tasty fish. Sensitive ears will hear their voices ticking and shrilling, sonar blips locating potential mates and prey alike.
“Lady Blackwell.” Like the rumble of thunder in her ear, to the left, the kraken’s lips so close his moustache tickles her earlobe. He’s not always out to sea, when not ensconced in ashy tunnels in the bowels of the Dark Lands. Before Tessa can gasp or whirl around or whatever it she is wont to do in such moments of surprise, Mac has straightened to his full height and is… is that a hint of a smirk of his lips?
“If you will, M’Lady, please return with me to the sands. These waters are….” As if to illustrate his very next intended words, something large and lithe, slick and dark as spilled oil, jack-knifes out of the sea to snatch a screaming moon-bat in a needle-toothed maw. “It is s safer on the beach at night,” he add. He might reasobably ask her why she called him , and to this p;ace specifically. Or offer the girl explanation of how he just happened to be right there, at that exact moment of her call. Instead, he offers her only the crook of his arm, held out as invitation to escort the Lady safely from the realm of potential harm.
Quintessa definitely was not used to being snuck up on, nor was she expecting it. She expected many things, perhaps that Mac would slowly surface from the black waves in his true form but never would she expect him to appear behind her. One would be forgiven for mistaking the high pitched "Eep!" that escapes Quintessa's lips for a call from one of the moonbats overhead as she quickly spins to meet him, a mix of shock and fear in her eyes that quickly shifts to humor as she reaches out to playfully shove his arm. "You prankster!" A soft giggle is next to escape from her as she steps back out of the waves, turning her back to the ocean as she rises out of it.
"They are dangerous, no?" These waters, she means, her hand outstretched as if showcasing the waves. "But not just here. The sea everywhere... It's terrifying." A tiny grin tugs at the corners of her mouth as she takes his arm, allowing him to lead her to safer ground. "Forgive me for calling you out so late. In truth I did not believe you would come." Quintessa wastes no time in beginning to explain herself, far too used to having to offer explanations for the strange things she does. "Call it an experiment. I just needed to see if it would work– And it did! Here you are as promised." Her grin spreads wider, but this wasn't the sinister shark's grin Quintessa was notorious for, it was more genuine and drawn from the childlike excitement bubbling within her. "And I have so many questions for you."
“Dangerous… yes,” Mac stares out at the inky waters briefly, nodding. A slightly grim turn of expression is interrupted by a snort of amusement, “The ‘sea everywhere’ is outraged, Lady Blackwell, that you would consider it so. And no doubt will insist that I personally disprove thy assertion.” Whatever shadow loomed over his mood moments ago is dispelled by Tessa’s clear delight at her skill in kraken-summoning. “It did work, and I am indeed here. As promised.”
Or prophecied, he thinks but does not say aloud, for it's not time yet for such mysteries to unfold.
By the time the young woman mentions questions, they’ve sloshed their way back to the relatively less perilous beach, and Mac shrugs off his frayed bridge-coat to lay it on the sand for Tess to sit on. The kraken himself squats on his heels beside the garment. “You have only to ask, Lady, and if it is within my power to answer thee in full, I will do so gladly. But first…” he gestures for the warden to take her seat, “I would like to hear more about this ‘web’ of thine.” It appears the stars weren’t the only ones privy to Quintessa’s audible musings
"Oh, you heard that, did you?" Quintessa smiles bashfully, taking a seat on the spot he had provided. "An expression, I suppose. A poetic one. I've spent a lot of time forging connections, making allies... building my empire. This is my web. A tangled one at times but it's my own." She sighs, falling back to rest on her elbows as she gazes at the constellation she had uttered that to begin with. "And all to reclaim my homeland. To take back what I've lost– But you don't want to hear about the politics of land-walkers, do you?" Her mismatched eyes flicker over to gaze at the kraken next to her in the darkness, casting the light from the moons in them. "Or do you? Perhaps you could help me... but that is honestly not why I called you here. That was out of academic curiosity."
A loud and sudden ruckus overhead has the kraken glance sharply upward, and in the darkness those suddenly vibrant-hued aqua rings scattered across his skin become obvious on his upper torso and the arm he’s thrown across Tessa’s head to shield her from whatever-it-was. But just as quickly he retracts it, for the creatures fighting on the wing above them were a danger only to themselves— swift red-eyed moonbats, larger than the more common green-eyed variety, were on a cannibalistic hunting spree.
Mac chuffs at them, and returns his attention to Quintessa. “I am all ears, M’Lady,” he tells her, and in truth there is nothing in his covenant with the Mother of Oceans to forbid the kraken from listening.
“And I would like very much to hear more about your homeland. Then I will do what I can to assist with your… scholarly concerns.”
Quintessa gazes curiously upward as Mac tries to shield her from something above but just as she looks up to view it he relaxes back down. "Those moonbats aren't interested in us." She assures, "We're not part of their food chain. See?" See points up just as one of the red-eyed variants pounces on a green-eyed. "The strong eat the weak. Tis the very same in Vailkrin, my homeland. For years the vampire aristocracy has been in control, subjecting the other races that live there– But they are weak and their grip on the land is loosening. The time has come for House Blackwell, the strong, to return and reclaim the Dark Forest in the name of the Unseelie Court. I will ensure that the Dark Fae who live there– who make up almost a third of Vailkrin's population, mind you, are offered representation in the Vailkrinese government. No longer will we be ignored and cast aside or exiled to Enchantment where our people were placed into ghettos. And the non-vampire undead too! I shall end the decades-long apartheid that has existed there, pushing the undead into the necropolis where they'd be out of the way– We are done with this treatment! The time of the vampires is over; A new dawn rises over Vailkrin."
Quintessa lets that linger in the air for a moment before she laughs at the way it sounds. "Or at least that's what I was going around saying a year ago. My time in exile from Vailkrin has given me perspective. I certainly dreamed of returning with fire and blood but that is simply not the way I want to found my new society. How can I ever claim to be better than what came before if I use the same methods? Wouldn't we just be replacing one oppressor with another? I'm far more inspired by people like Mayor Valrae who's rise to power was due to people's love for her. I used to say I'd rather be feared than loved but now I realize it has to be both. People have to both fear *and* love me if I'm going to last in this world... But this revelation leaves me at a loss with how to move forward. The only thing I can do in the meantime is spin my little web and wait for the opportunity to become snagged within it."
All the while Tessa speaks, Mac listens with the greatest intent, his gaze remaining focussed on her own mismatched one except for a brief glance up at the bats, and some kind of fleeting and weird expression at her mention of Valrae that has him studying the back of his hands briefly. When Tessa has done with her speech, he is still faintly smiling.
“There are creatures in this world, Lady Blackwell, a thousand times thine age who have not a fraction of the wisdom you have just demonstrated. I can only recommend that it is better to love your people, no matter what they think of you, and reserve the fear for your foes.” He chuffs faintly, perhaps a breath of his own resignation. “I have seen for myself that you fight well, and no revolution is entirely bloodless. It is better, however, to demonstrate your strength sparingly and let thine enemies underestimate you and strike believing thou art weak. Then the blood you reap must be plentiful and thy strike swift and true, for there is great terror in being proven wrong at the pointed end of a weapon.” Faint lights glower in his eyes as he speaks of war, but soon fade away. “And if your people truly love you, they will be your greatest strength. Remember this, above all: love cannot thrive in a fearful heart. A good place to lay a foundation for something with more substance than a cobweb, no?”
The kraken allows a moment for that sink in, a silence filled by the twitter of bats and the shush of the dark ocean, and had opened his mouth to say something else when a literal ball of warring creatures falls from the sky into the space between Mac and Tessa, exploding into six or seven separate bats when it lands. Leathery transparent wings flap and batter them as each creature seeks to extricate itself, the majority regaining the air quickly, except for one mortally wounded green-eye adult and… that baby red-eye, a brash little thing out hunting too soon for its size, now firmly entangled via its dangling claws in the Countess’ voluminous hair.
Quintessa listens carefully, silently, sitting obediently like a child at grandfather's feet as he pours more wisdom into her mind. Something he says resonates deep within her, deep enough that she repeats the words, her pale lips parting as she says, "Love cannot thrive in a fearful heart..." She knows it to be true. She knows intimately how her own fearful heart slowly snuffed out the love she tried to foster. Her fear was a poison that corrupted every aspect of her young life– Up until Alithyk Caluss took her to its realm and taught her the true meaning of fear. Ever since then she hasn't been afraid of much. The mortal realm felt so safe and mundane compared to what she endured there, which is why she barely flinches when the swarm of transparent wings and mouths comes crashing between them. She doesn't even move her head away when the tiny red-eyed moonbat becomes entangled in her raven hair.
"You're right," She says, her hands coming up to scoop the bat from her hair, to cradle it in her palms as she continues speaking to the kraken. "I have shown the world how ruthless I can be. How formidable I am. It's time to show the world that I can also be nurturing. Compassionate. Understanding." The red-eyed moonbat, still stunned from its encounter with a foe too large for it, cautiously circles Quintessa's hands, climbing endlessly as she alternates which one it was ascending. "And those who mistake this kindness for weakness shall know the wroth of House Blackwell." She smiles down at her little moonbat acquaintance as she speaks, a tiny, happy smile that stands in juxtaposition to the dire things she was talking about. "Would your Lady Selene also have similar lessons for me?" Quintessa's gaze flickers up to look at Mac, her smile barely visible yet never fading. "I have taken lessons from the words of Vakmatharas, Delisha, and Xalious– Would Selene also have something of value for me to learn? I am very much eager to know more about her. Nobody ever taught me about the Gods when I was a child."
Whatever the kraken might’ve been wanting to add prior to the bat-ball fiasco, he deems not as important as the fact that Quintessa appears to have embraced the most essential part of his message and leaves it at that, reaching for the dying green-eyed bat as Tessa speaks, cradling it one large palm. A swift ultrasonic blip erupts from his parted lips, too low in frequency to be heard, telling him the creature has no hope at all for survival.
When the countess arrives at the question of Selene, Mac nods, “Yes, a great deal no doubt…” Not willing to allow the bat to suffer a moment longer, he emits a second sound of higher frequency which kills it instantly. Petting its bloodied moon-pale fur with his thumb, he looks to Quintessa thoughtfully, “Think on this, first. There is no life without the sea. It is Mother to us all, yet…” one shoulder rises and drops and Mac sets the bat’s body down on his coat, “…the ocean embraces death like a brother, for death is the very thing which guarantees life will continue. Yet Selene…” he coughs softly, “...Our Mother of Oceans can be somewhat…” oh, how to say it? “…fickle, in her mood and possessive of her children, and in a narrow perspective might seem spiteful, wrathful, or distant at times, and others too rigid and demanding. But in the long view, the bigger perspective, the Mother’s currents and tides are absolutely reliable, and the chaos of the microcosm falls away, becomes invisible and largely irrelevant to the greater logic and order of the whole, and it is there in that bigger picture that her love dwells, boundless and without condition.”
Mcracken shakes his head, he drifted somewhat there. “I apologise, Lady, for waxing so on the topic. You mentioned Lady Valrae, of Cenril.” The kraken’s gaze glimmers as though reflecting golden fires, “I believe she would be the very best tutor for thee in these matters. If you prefer, I could approach her on thy behalf?” He frowns, directing his attention toward the little bat in Tessa’s hands, “It has a cracked metacarpal, and will die if released before it heals. Mayhap, Lady, an opportunity to put compassion in motion.”
Quintessa offers a solemn glance down at the dead, green-eyed moonbat but she doesn't speak about it, instead allowing her thoughts to remain on Selene and the sea as her own red-eyed moonbat struggles to escape up her arm to retreat to her hair once more. "Hmph... I think I quite relate to Lady Selene after all." It's a surprise to her, a woman who has spent most her life an irreverent heretic, but it is a comforting surprise. "Do not apologize for waxing on, dear Mac... Was it Valrae the Red Witch you mentioned? Yes, this makes sense, and I still owe much to her and her people in terms of reparations. You would... Speak on my behalf?" This seems to cheer her up a little bit. "Perhaps my honest efforts to learn about the Gods of Cenril will show that I am truly reformed? It will be a good start, at least." Another thread of her web to stretch across the Strait of Rynvale. Now her attention turns to the Moonbat in her hair, hiding in pain with a cracked metacarpal. "You can tell that just by looking?" She seems impressed, a finger offered for the bat to perch upon though it doesn't accept it. "Yes, I shall nurture this youngling back to full health. Tis been a while since I last tamed an animal... Would you like that little one?" Quintessa makes a series of high pitched squeaks at the moonbat, though it doesn't seem impressed by her imitation.
"Oh, you'll come around. They always do."
“Selene has many faces,” Mac murmurs, reclaiming the cat-sized carcass from where it lay the coat. “She is not difficult to love. Being loved by her, however, can have its challenges,” And then hr nods, at mention of Valrae, “I will, indeed. I have intended to meet with her again, and will be glad to recommend thee as a pupil, with myself as thy patron. I am not certain of when we’ll meet but I hope it may be soon.” By then he’s smiling, likely at the woman’s attempts to charm the bat, “Like your friend there, Lady, I ‘see’ in a way, with sound. My skill is, you could say, deeper of scope than the bat but it is the same principle.” He rises then, cradling the deceased green-eye in the crook of one arm. “Now, perhaps I ought to give this creature a burial at sea.” He’ll wait for Tessa to stand, so he can retrieve his bridge-coat.
"What? So soon? But I have so many questions yet to ask of you!" Perhaps realizing how petulant she sounds, Quintessa sighs, letting her more academic questions be saved for some other time as she rises to her feet. "Very well. Best not make that poor creature wait long for a dignified goodbye." She dusts herself off after stepping off of his coat so he may retrieve it. "I shall call for you again soon. Far from here, however. And I have not forgotten your promise to show me your home– I shall hold you to it. But for now, dear Mac– And one day I shall convince you to tell me your real name, but for now I bid you farewell. May Selene be even-tempered and gentle with you until we meet again."
“May she be so indeed, Lady Blackwell,” Mac gives her a formal dip of head, then tucks the bat carcass under one arm while he shakes the sand out of that threadbare coat. “And to thee, as well.” Again, there’s a twist of amusement on his lips, and it shines in his eyes too, but nothing of mockery exudes from the expression. This imperious girl reminds him of someone long gone now, but whom he once enjoyed observing as she blustered her way through every obstacle. “And far from here is the perfect place for our next meeting. I will certainly listen for thy call.” The man-apparent is so droll, it’s sometimes hard to tell when he’s teasing. He turns now to stroll away, bare feet padding on gritty black sand, and them on to the smooth stone street, some bygone and long forgotten melody rising in his throat.