RP:Where We Stand, Defiant

Part of the Lies Within Us Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Summary: An anonymous letter was sent to members of the Mages Guild suspected of harboring concerns for the current council and those who would object to the impending war with Larket. The discussion momentarily lapses into insults and high tempers, but in the end the group manages to agree on a plan to send Administer Brenwyn into the waiting grips of Larket and, hopefully, stop the march of war.

Library of Arcane Knowledge

If the rest of the rooms in this mansion are gems, than this is the crown jewel: a personal library to rival Cenril's own public one, if not in size than at least in rarity and value of books. Only a scholar or mage is capable of devoting this much space purely to the careful storage of volumes and tomes, and this collector has outdone themselves. A careful eye might notice that the ash-gray dye coloring on the icy walls varies slightly in shade from section to section, a sign that this room has been repeatedly expanded outward, devouring other rooms of the mansion to accommodate its steady growth. But it isn't size alone that marks this as a truly magnificent library. The bookcases, all of that uniform black wood found throughout the manor, stand from marbled floor to ceiling in impeccable rows and are filled to capacity with books. Large books, small books, magical tomes, aged instruction manuals, leather bound fairytales, and even a few tribal stories encased in what seems to be animal hide or fur, the sheer volume of variety is staggering and leaves many breathless. The knowledge one could obtain just by reading a single shelf of the countless present is a frightful thought. The center of the room, marked as such by a separate arrangement of bookcases forming a vast circle around it, is reserved for comfortable armchairs, oversized velveteen cushions, reading and writing desks, a mage's well-worn work table, and a small collection of glass display cases designed to hold especially precious books. Most of the northern wall has been made into a floor to ceiling window, its midnight blue velvet curtains tied back to let in the starlight and reveal a pair of locked fluorite-glass doors leading outside where distant chirps and small roars can be heard. Further light is provided, once again, by those sconces and lanterns of fluorite-encased magefire, these orbs giving off a gentle amber glow. Like the rest of the manor, the library is unnaturally cold, but the chilled air carries minimal book-damaging moisture, leaving all crisp and dry. And perfectly cozy for an ice magus.

Valrae had arrived early with the intention of settling and collecting herself for the meeting, however when she entered the grand library she found herself walking the stacks, her illusioned eyes hungrily taking in all they could see. She was dressed for the cold of Frostmaw, layered in cerulean and grey, feet tucked warmly in high laced boots, and wrapped snugly in a faux-fur lined cloak of crushed blue velvet. Underneath a carefully woven illusion Valrae appeared as Provost Grace, curling brown hair pinned back, freckle dusted nose holding large, round rimmed glasses over lake blue eyes. For a while, the witch happily scanned the spines of passing books, hardly resisting the urge to pull them from the shelves and glance through the pages. Eventually, Grace moved away to place a neat stack of files and her bag on the work table. Idly, she flipped through her notes. After the meeting she’d had with Odhranos and Quintessa, Valrae had begun secretly collecting information on her fellow guildmates, scanning them for any potential as an ally to move against what she believed to be a corrupt council. One that was now driving them all toward unnecessary war. It was earlier than she would have liked, but time was now of the essence and she would have to work with the information she had. With a sigh, she drops the files on the table and moves toward the northern window. Through clouds of her own breath she glanced through the glass and pulled her cloak around her more tightly. She’d planned for Odhranos to arrive first and have a moment to warn him, with the others arriving very shortly after, but imagined the nature of her letter, and the fact that she’d left it unsigned, could spurn others to arrive early and so she was prepared for that as well. For a quiet moment, the witch watched the stars and waited for the first arrivals.

Iintahquohae arrives quietly, yanking down the fur-lined hood of her cloak when she reaches the entryway of the library. The sound of her boots against the floor likely announced her arrival, but otherwise she is silent, taking in the rows upon rows of books. It had been quite some time since she had visited this place, but its familiarity is a comforting sight. As much as she would like to peruse the shelves, the seamstress refrains from doing so out of a desire to be polite, and instead takes a seat upon one of the armchairs after unfastening her cloak to reveal her usual formal, black attire, and drapes the fabric over the chair's back. In doing so, she spies Grace. Figuring she is either the source of the message she received or someone else that hurried here upon receipt of the message long since burned in her hearth at home, she wonders whether or not she should break the silence and greet her. Considering how new she was in the Guild's ranks, she opts for silence and an open ear for an explanation. From her seat she waits for the arrival of others, one long leg crossing over the other while she busies herself with adjusting her glasses and pushing her hair out of her eyes.

Quintessa || The form of a large, armored cockatrice mencely stomps through the Frostmaw mines, nearing the secret location heralded by the mysterious letter Quintessa received that eve. The changeling was a suspicious sort, but with all the goings on with the Mage’s Guild of late the hex blade saw nothing strange about this cloak and dagger approach to a meeting. In fact, Quintessa quite preferred it that way. Bloodbeak’s armor clicks and rattles as he moves closer to the frosty foyer, stopping just short of the door so that his rider, Quintessa Dragana, could swing her legs off of her three-meter-tall mount and hop down before lifting her tinted goggles off her face. With a wave of her hand the doors obey her magical whims, swinging open to allow two black wolves and a spotted cat to slip by her before the changeling makes her way inside to join those gathered, taking a seat in one of the armchairs before wrapping her fur-lined cloak tightly against her lithe body. Much to the odd woman’s dismay, it was just as cold inside this cave as it was outside in the elements, which meant that some sort of magic was at play here. Perhaps Quintessa would have to stick around to investigate this place more thoroughly after this meeting…

Magik || Two large male black wolves walk into the library side by side and head to the center of the room immediately, paying no mind to any who would dare question such a sight. A soft violet-brown leopard no larger than a housecat lays curled up on the back of the wolf with aqua blue eyes while the wolf with emerald green eyes starts to lag behind just a bit, letting the alpha lead the way. As the trio arrives at the center of the room, the small leopard peeks it's head up and leaps off of the wolf's back onto the floor. After finding a comfortable looking chair, the blue eyed wolf nonchalantly climbs on it and sits to stare down any onlookers. Ohtar takes his place sitting just in front of the claimed chair. Suddenly, a smoky black orb surrounds the two wolves and the chair but disappears just as quick as it arrived. Magikrios replaces the wolf in the chair and leans forward to pat Ohtar. The elf looks to the small cat that hitched a ride in, "Don't forget those crystals, Kara." The others would receive a quick smirk and nod.

Kasyr ||It hadn't dawned on him until hours later, but there was a distinct problem with the plan. The sort of thing that nibbles and gnaws at the back of your mind, turning what should have been a restful sleep into an anxiety ridden bout of tossing and turning. When he finally returned to the waking world, he only needed a few groggy moments to blink the sleep from his eyes, before he found himself focusing on the reason. He was, after all, still under the watchful eyes of Larkets guards- and one of their ilk was comfortably seated on a chair facing the open door to his room. What made this even worse, however, is that he felt a dull pulse of magical energy coming from the pocket of his coat. Were they trying to call him now? Were they seeing if he was awake? It would have been enough on it's own to make the Kensai look a bit ill- but given his already feverish state, it only served to give him an almost delirious quality. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, as he gathered himself to his feet, and staggered towards the entryway to the room. "Uh." Think. "Could I . . . " Think. "Get a me . . . al?" THINK. A lack of surety marked his every word, and only grew more pronounced as the guard failed to rise from his seat, only turning his head towards the far end of the hallway and looked as though he were ready to call out. The Kensai's throat dried, the fog of waking up still slowing his thoughts. He must look so pale, so utterly miserable right now. "W-wait." THINK. "Actually. Actually. I think- I think I'm going to be sick. " That request, at least- isn't one that can be solved simply by calling to a different room for someone to bring something here. What's more- Kasyr certainly looks grievously Ill. But it still doesn't quite afford him the privacy he needs, unless. ".... From both ends." -That- makes it uncomfortable enough for the guard, who let's out a disgruntled sigh, and rises to his feet to direct the Kensai towards a more ideal location to ... do his business. Now just to pray the volume on the crystal Karasu provided isn't deafening loud. It's only once he has a door between himself and the guard, and made a number of surprisingly natural sounding grunts of discomfort- that he allows himself the time to begin fussing with the communication Crystal. "...Is this thing on? ... Testing? Ostil de Tabernac."

Karasu || As the large wolf revealed to be Magikrios takes his place on a chair, a leopard no larger than some of the heavier tomes in the library shakes itself off. Spinel eyes take in the library and the guests gathering in the armchairs at its center. Clawed nails click against the marble tile as the leopard begins to pace around the edge of the room, then in and out of each other room in the mansion while the other guests settle in. Satisfied that this does not seem to be a trap of any kind, the feline moves back to the meeting area. There is a blue light before the form of the missing Spellblade Corps leader is revealed. A runic jaguar pelt covers most of her form, sewn haphazardly into what is now a coat. Home economics was never on the spellblade cirriculum. The halfling first stands in her natural half-feline form. "Trust me, I did not forget. Remaining rooms are empty and appear to have no trade of enchanted items that could be used to eavesdrop." Karasu relays to the rest of the room. With a half-smile, she adds, "A very nice meeting place you've chosen, Provost Grace." She presses her hand against her breastbone to touch the magical amulet beneath. Her more catlike features, such as the ears and thin whiskers, fade away to take on a human appearance. A runic crystal is withdrawn from her pocket, one that once belonged to a now-exiled-illusionist. A side table is pulled towards the center where the crystal propped up to face an empty armchair. With a clawed hand held over it, she begins an incantation that makes the crsytsal grow with pale green luminescence. Then... nothing happens. "Oh, come on." She kneels, giving the crystal a smack before repeating the spell. The sickly form of Kasyr appears in the armchair. "Aye, we can hear you. And see you. Can you see where we are?" The woman moves into an armchair next to Quintessa, giving her hair a ruffle before being seated.

Odhranos ||The cave wall of the Frostmaw Mines shudders, as a quiet whispery rasp murmurs from the coarse, blue-tinted stone, pock-marked with a thousand divots from a hundred picks over the many years that the mines have been in service. This slithering rasp grows in intensity, becoming a dull rumble, until with a groaning crack, the cave wall splits open, yawning wide enough to permit a hooded figure shuffle out of the dark recess. A sleeve of rough grey wool, threadbare at the hems, is wafted towards the passageway, which seals with a gravelly sigh, as the terramancer trudges deeper into the cave. As the air grows chillier, Odhranos pulls his robes tighter around him, thankful for the extra layer of furs sewn into the old robes. While not near fancy enough for swanning around Mage's Tower, these robes hold enough sentimental and functional value that Odhranos couldn't bear to throw them out once he made his home in the Tower. A stroke of good luck, it seems. Stepping through the rime-laced portal and shuffling carefully across the treacherous bridge that spans the lake bearing Satoshi's glacial abode, Odhranos moves like a dim wisp, a muted blot of grey in the crystalline finery of the mansion. Tucking himself in by the walls as he moves towards the library, Odhranos is surprised, and a little concerned by the surprising number of voices the icy walls throw about. In her letter, Grace, or Valrae, as Odhranos should really think of her, made no mention of others joining. Far less the number that the ricocheting echoes seem to suggest. With no small hesitancy, Odhranos finds himself framed in the open double doors, looking into the library and the cluster of familiar faces that occupy the armchairs at the centre. Odhranos musters a quiet sigh, and shoulders the strap of S'erok's cage to gather his emotional momentum, before stepping into the circle of bookshelves, greeting any eyes that turn to him with a small nod and a quiet, sad frown. To any who glance his way, the mage is a study in diminution, turned inwards, swaddled and guarded, devoid of the bombastic joviality and broad smiles that have made him so dear. Rather than engaging in greetings, Odhranos makes a beeline for Grace, stopping a few paces short, then bowing deeply at the waist. "Provost Grace..." Odhranos begins, his voice thin and dusty, almost hard to hear in the voluminous space of the library. "...I wasn't aware there would be so many here. I'd have brought a teapot if I had known." Odhranos rallies a smile, but it is forced, pained almost.

Valrae spies Iintahquohae’s arrival and smiles welcomingly, but offers no explanation at first, and is content to let the mystery hang between them for a moment longer. It would be easier to address the room when it was full. She does, however, move from the window to stand near the worktable again, behind her files. Quintessa’s entrance was met with another smile from the witch, this one filled with familiarity that was chilled to politeness for Magikrios. Kasyr’s appearance by way of magic was unexpected, but Grace was learning to roll with the punches. As the room fills, it seems to be only Karasu who guesses the meeting was hers. She sends her a wry smile, “Odhranos can be thanked for that,” And as if speaking his name summoned him, the Magister himself walks in, moving directly toward her. And with that, by Valrae’s count, all but one was missing. Giving Odhranos an apologetic look she whispers,, “No time for tea,” for that’s all they had time they had for talking now. The witch then steps toward the center of the scattered gathering and straightens her shoulders. “Thank you all for joining me here,” Grace finally addresses the room. “I’m sure it’s clear by now that the message was mine,” She admits, waiting a breath for that to settle through the chilled room. “I’m Provost Sara Grace. Some of you know me, and I understand that those of you who do not will be rightfully cautious,” Valrae’s illusioned eyes scan the room slowly. “However, I’ve called this meeting because of the state of the guild and my concern for it.” She looks toward Odhranos again, searching his eyes for a moment. “I know I’m not the only one who shares these concerns. When I spoke out at the commencement ceremony many in this room were willing to publicly share my concern… I’ve asked you here today because I believe some of you might also share my concern for the impending war that Administer Brenwyn seems hell bent on bringing to our Guild’s doorstep.” She looks around the room again, trying in vain to gauge the reactions around the room. “If there is a way to stop it, or change the course of the path we are on right now, I believe the people who hold the power to do so are in this room.”

Iintahquohae observes the arrival of other Guild members, settling on the odd appearance of Kasyr and Odhranos' arrival a bit more than the others. Her gaze primarily settles on her sire with a slight frown at his appearance, but she says nothing when Grace begins to speak. Once the Provost has finished, she considers what has been said and how little she actually knows before voicing her opinion. Uncertain if this is some sort of debate where everyone took turns speaking, she sort of waves a gloved hand at Grace, indicating she had something to say, then began to speak to the group at large. “Considering my entry into the Guild was only a month or two ago, my opinion might provide those of you who have been here longer and are higher up in the tower so to speak, a bit of an outsider's perspective. A guild that is supposed to be a pinnacle of magical education in Lithrydel going to war is absolutely ridiculous. It's stupid. We're not a kingdom. The paperwork I signed to enter never indicated anything about being called up for battle like a mercenary. We don't have an army as far as I know, and even then...” she makes a vague gesture with her outstretched hand, splayed fingers and palm tilting fromone side to another, “you have the issue of Larket's...I'm assuming Larket, given what I have heard from Queen Josleen herself and recent events, potential allies sweeping in to their aid.” Leaning back in her chair, she looks to the others in the room, genuinely puzzled. “Why not just chuck Brenwyn and any of his supporters out? Don't you have any oversight here? If he wants a war, let him take it to them himself, not drag it onto the Guild's doorstep. ”

Quintessa gives everyone here a courtesy nod as a greeting, her face expressionless until Karasu messes up her hair and then the changeling cracks a smile at her, playfully pushing her away with her arms fully extended. “My hair!” she whines in mock protest, fixing her fringe to be pointed in the middle like she likes it. With her style preserved, Quintessa crosses one long leg over the other and sets her mismatched gaze upon Provost Grace, or the Red Witch Valrae as the hex blade knew her as. She had no plans of exposing her true identity, however, so the name ‘Sara Grace’ would have to do for now. When the woman begins to speak about her concerns about the guild and Brenwyn’s war, the changeling nods thoughtfully, a long, pale finger moving up to rest on her bottom lip. “Aye,” she chimes in, “There is a clear corruption in the Mage’s Guild- one that must be excised before it brings all of us down with it. First we bow to the wishes of the disgusting Drow and now the council sees fit to provoke Larket?” Quintessa shakes her head. “I hate the crown more than most, you know this Sara, but I do not want to see my students in the Spellblade Corps. killed in this impending conflict.” At Iintahquohae’s words Quintessa gives a slight smirk. “I’d be careful about trusting the words of a lying snake like Queen Josleen. She’ll brand anyone that doesn’t agree with her as a witch and burn them just like she did to one of our own. History will repeat itself.”

Magik nods to Karasu, "Thank you, dear." The elf gives Ohtar a couple more solid pats to the shoulder before he lays down on the ground to serve as a barrier between any stranger and the Lyastri. Ohtar's eyes focus from one person to the other to study their movements and intentions, save for Karasu and Tessa who he is already familiar with. Magik leans back in his chair and brings a boot up to rest on the opposite knee as he folds his hands on his lap. Quintessa receives a quick blown kiss. Odhranos, however, receives that dark look only familiar to a select few in the room. The last the Veneficus seen of the Magister he was running off towards Brenwyn's office. That cold dark stare remained for only a short while before he offered the human a subtle wink. The elf shifts his focus to Provost Grace as she speaks, listening intently. The only reaction Grace would receive at the moment is a slight adjustment in Magik's posture to prop himself up just a little better to signify his attentiveness. The elf's fiery eyes focused to Inks as she spoke. He tilts his head to the side a bit and slowly bounces his foot a little. Quintessa receives the same attention. At the end of her statement, he raises a hand slightly, "Provost Grace. Veneficus D'Chath." He clears his throat then continues, "As Quintessa stated, these are mere students within the walls of the tower, not soldiers. The Spellblade Corps is a welcome sect and partnering them up with my Pyromancy students would surely do some damage to our enemies, but that's not why they are there. They are there to learn. I am there to teach them and guide them and to be their mentor. This current Council is dangerous. I will NOT send my students to do battle with Larket If the Council commands it..However.." The elf pauses for a moment to keep his cool, "However, I will do whatever it takes to protect my kids should that need arise."

Kasyr finds himself self-consciously shuffling in the small space he'd managed to acquire to himself. Was it just picking himself up, or was it also picking up the dismal surroundings he'd acquired under the premise of being ill? "...Mm. Oh. Yes, I can ..see." He finds himself squinting for a few long moments, as the familiarity of the sights begin to dawn on him. How had so many of them gotten in there? A pang of discomfort wells in his chest at the thought, only compounded by the further memory of Luffys Eye- still harboured within his office at the Manse. Still, he manages to compose himself, squeezing down hard on his useless right arm until the fabric of the sling begins to strain. "Just don't be too loud, s'il te plait." That aside, the Kensai settles in to listen to the exchange, a faint nod given at both his fledgeling and Quintessa's opinions. Though, he might have coughed slightly at the 'Her students' comment. Still, she wasn't wrong, on a number of levels, "To be fair. once I was sprung from here, I was intending on suggesting, " Imposing. "an educational field expedition meant to get the spellblades away from the tower. And then conveniently forget how to notify the tower as to what I was doing." There's a pause, before the Kensai adds, "Unless this is more of a, er. C'est quoi le. Right, a coup. That'd be quicker, peut-etre. Et Larket seems to have an interest in..." There is such dramatic air quotes with this statement, though it looks a bit weird with one hand, "Bringing Brenwyn to justice." That point aside, the Kensai decides to use the time where people are hopefully mulling over comments and a comment that can reasonably interpreted as homicidal, to see if his holographic self's arm retains it's integrity when passed through the back of his chair, or if the transmission cuts off once it interacts with something solid. For science.

Karasu grimaces at Odhranos' state, letting out a sigh. Now knowing how much Quintessa went through in her absence, and likely the newly-appointed Magister as well, that gnawing thought at the back of her mind resurfaces again: 'You could have prevented this if you had said what you knew instead of running away.' An idle nod is given to Sara Grace's comment towards her as she takes in the room again and its other occupants. She may or may not have immediately compared the handwriting to every office in the Tower before stealing things from Kasyr's office. Given what has happened to date, the reconnaissance is far from the most paranoid thing she's done in the last week. Her eyes fall on the slight figure across from her. The more the stranger speaks, the harder she grips the arm of the chair. She raises her other hand and stands up to indicate her piece. “As mentioned before, the Mage’s Guild has an army in the Spellblade Corps, as well as the more advanced mages, but every apprentice is required to learn basic self-defense magics in their core curriculum if enrolled as students as well. This is specifically due to the fact that war is inevitable and that members can be caught in the crosshairs, regardless of political affiliation.” Slitted rhodolite eyes bore into the apprentice as she speaks. “Secondly, Brenywn is the Administrator of the Guild in the absence of a suitable archmage, and is part of a democratic council that at least somewhat appears to be on board with his irrationality. That might be because the councilmen who are actually capable of sound reasoning are driven to sabbaticals.” A vague gesture is made towards poor Odhranos. “As much as the idea of war over one high elf’s arrogance is revolting, it seems that we’re being railroaded in this direction against our will.” She chews on her bottom lip. “The ultimatum seems to be Peter or Brenwyn’s head. Advocating for Brenwyn’s removal to the other councilmen will be dangerous, given that at least one of them has threatened multiple people here for a separate matter. We might have a way to deceive them into thinking they have Peter back, given that--” She hesitates for a moment, her professional manner faltering in her features. “-- that he cannot be returned. I’ve been thinking about this. I have recently gained an item that combines my race’s natural ability to change form from full feline to full human with illusion magic. I can pose as Peter until we are within Larket’s walls and draft a letter saying that he is not returning to Xalious, but he will not be staying in Larket.” There is a moment of silence before the spellblade wrings her hands, and the bravado fades completely. “Just a thought.” She finishes quietly, sitting back down and folding her hands in her lap. Suddenly, there is a particular pattern of marble on the floor that is very interesting to stare at.

Odhranos let's slip a tiny snort at Valrae's apology. Indeed, the time for tea and leisurely chats has long since passed. As for its return, well, only time will tell. Dipping his head towards the Provost, Odhranos seeks out an armchair furthest from the gathered collective, near Iintahquohae if he can manage it, but most definitely not front and centre. This is Valrae's stage, and precedent has proven that this Kerrigan is no actor. A skilled stage-hand at most. When Val turns to meet his eyes, voicing her long-seated concerns for the Guild's warmongering, Odhranos looks down and away, his face a mask of shame and regret. Oh, how proud he was when Grace stood and voiced her indictment of the Razurath Genocide, how strongly he felt sympathy for her convictions, and yet, he was the very same man who's actions set them on the path of their next war. Odhranos feels no right to meet Grace's gaze. Not when this impending calamity is an product of his ill-minded actions. Iintahquohae's comment is met with a pursed frown. While true from an outside perspective, the Guild does have no formal army, the Guild Charter does promise a rallying of force in defense of its members. This clause no doubt justified Daath's raising of the Guild to a standing army in the Council's eyes. And where such a clause lay abused once, it could be abused so again. As the discussions continue, Odhranos chews his lip in thought, picking at the lint on the arm of the armchair, studying the faint teal stain left behind from the bookworm infestation that had brought him to this place all those months ago. Simpler times, easier times. As a lull in the debate brings a brief silence to the library, Odhranos pipes up from his secluded armchair. "The Council is no more dangerous than any blade or weapon. Brenwyn wields the Council as he would any tool, it serves as a device to orchestrate his control over the Guild while convincing us that we have some semblance of a say in how the Guild is run. The other Councillors are puppets at best, or glorified seat-cushions at worst." Odhranos snorts and settles his chin into the crook of his thumb as he raises his tired eyes to the assembled group. "Kaaname and Foreza look up to Brenwyn like the sun shines out of his very arse. Kyl'oriel at least holds reservations, but he hasn't the wherewithal to voice them." Odhranos chews his lip, then follows up with a quiet growl. "And I was too deaf and blind to voice mine until it was too late. Make no mistake, the Council's voice is merely Brenwyn's voice thrown off the walls. Depose him and the Council will have as much bite as a crotchety old dog" Odhranos' tone is bitter, upset at the truth of his own words, that the Council entrusted with the Guild's management should fall so low, so quickly. "Without Brenwyn, you're only dealing with four senile pen-pushers. Fitting for an educational institution, I suppose." Odhranos sighs and straightens in his chair, running fingers through his unkempt grey hair, drawing it back from his gaunt and drawn face. "The facts we have to face are; Brenwyn desires war with Larket. To what end, I have no idea. He has not discussed it with any members of the Council, to do so is not his way. Brenwyn expects support, not questions." Odhranos raises a finger into the air, even as his eyes drift to the floor, so as not to meet anyone. "Secondly, the child Peter Ealhstan is dead. Magik and I discovered his body shortly before I left; it seems he tried to escape his room with a makeshift rope of bedsheets and curtains. He must have slipped, and he fell to his death. A horrific accident, by all accounts, but given the circumstances, I find it hard to believe that Larket will buy such a story. Given their antagonist relationship with facts that are inconvenient to them." A second finger is raised. "Thirdly, until such time as he sees the grievous insult dealt to Larket redressed, Macon is likely more than happy to spill mage's blood." A third finger joins the raised. "As far as I can tell, we are all in agreement that these three issues cannot be left unadressed. What we need to discuss is means and aftermath." Odhranos looks up from the floor and meets the eyes of his guildmates with a stern frown. "I won't waste your time with ideology or opinions. I am not fit to impart either. I will serve my purpose to the betterment Guild and when this matter is resolved, I plan on stepping down from the Council so that someone more befitting the position can take my place. I believe you will all agree with me that this makes the most sense."

Valrae understood that this meeting could be complicated by her public alias, Grace. She was a member of the guild, yes, but she was also a close employee of the queen. And by public knowledge of most in the room, she was also a citizen of Larket. This put her motives in a questionable light. While Valrae wasn’t ready to share her secret with a room full of near perfect strangers, when she as Valrae the Red Witch would have no reason to stand for Larket, she hoped with the support of Odhranos and Quintessa such measures would be unnecessary. Iintahquohae’s support and insight were welcome, and Grace offered her a small nod, though her lips pulled into a frown and the mention of Josleen, as it begged the question of Larket’s influence again. Quintessa’s barbed remark earned another nod from the witch. “Josleen and Macon have filled Larket’s history with tyranny and terror.” She agrees. When Magik introduces himself, Valrae offers another smile and the respectful dip of her head. “I have witnessed the brutality of Larket once,” And nearly every night when she closed her eyes. “I have no desire to witness any of my guildmates, your students, suffer the same atrocities over nothing.” Grace stifles the urge to pace, nodding along as Kasyr speaks. In the interest of clarity, she chimes in, “This is a coup.” She clears her throat and addresses the room again. “Let me be clear. I have no desire to move our guildmates around like chess pieces while Brenwyn plays general and continues to endanger us all. This was a clumsy power grab that devolved into a pissing contest between two megalomaniacs.” Frustration leaked into her tone. Karasu’s concerns were met with consideration and a heavy pause. She looked surprised and taken aback at the news that Peter could not be returned. “Where is Peter?” The witch paled, even underneath her pretty illusions. When Odhranos reveal’s Peter’s unfortunate death Grace shakes her head. “Advocating for Brenwyn’s removal is necessary and the most logical path before us. Everyone in this room knows they’re corrupted. With those gathered here, we could rally enough support to cast Brenwyn out. Especially if Peter’s fate is pinned squarely on his shoulders.” She pauses, hoping her implication of framing the administrator was clear. “We should let him answer for his own crimes and circumvent any more need for bloodshed. With Brenwyn’s influence removed, those ‘glorified seat-cushions’ can be persuaded by Odhranos to offer him as a means of negotiating peace… And perhaps to have Kasyr returned to us as well.” She spares him a humor filled smile. “I’d like to do this without lies, as that would only set the King marching back toward our tower again...And put you in considerable danger,” Her eyes land on Karasu again. “But we all have a voice here,” She looks around the room, eyes lingering on both Quintessa and Odhranos, hoping that this time he might meet her eyes. She’d started this journey with them, after all. “However we move forward should be agreed on by all of us."

Iintahquohae ;; “I'll take the word of a woman I know over people that potentially condone kidnappings,” Iintahquohae counters to Quintessa. She didn't know the changeling's role in what happened to Peter, but thought it best to make her opinions and stance clear, despite her own lack of rank. “That sounds like the sort of talk of someone who is keen on the idea to war, frankly. Again – if you want to interfere in the affairs of a kingdom for revenge or if they're doing something that you don't like, by all means, but not in the name of the Guild. You're staking your claim over Vailkrin right, Dragana? Why not use what army you have there to make a move on Larket, if you have one. Take whatever revenge you want that route if you want all out war. People who are here to learn likely don't want nor need the weight of battle dropped upon their shoulders.” Her attention then falls to her sire for confirmation after casting a brief glance at the library they currently sit in. “Tell me Kasyr, Satoshi and Svilfon were both members of the guild, no? When Satoshi was Queen, did she drag the guild into any wars she waged? When you sat on Vailkrin's throne, did you? What about Svil and his misadventures? Daath in the Underdark? If not, then I believe Brenwyn is setting a new precedent and it is a bad one. People like Magik shouldn't have to be put in a position to decide whether or not to put the lives of their students in danger.” Karasu is regarded with a slight raise of her brow due to what she reads as tension, what with gripping the chair and all, before her typically blank face shows signs of incredulity. Her dull brown gaze meets the other woman's with a bit of the same intensity, though likely less. This seems somewhat cut (perhaps a few cuts) and dry. “Then why doesn't everybody who opposes a war just leave? We aren't bound to the tower. You can learn magic elsewhere. If the councilmen see that whatever assumed numbers and power they had has diminished, perhaps they'll realize that for what they want to happen, they'll have to do it themselves.” The thought of a disguise elicits a soft chuckle. “The idea here is to not start a war. Lying and presenting a fake kid that may trip up and reveal themselves is a surefire way to kick one off. Even if you didn't go into Larket, surely they'll go looking for you and your guise as Peter. Maybe since I'm coming from this from a fairly non-magical means of solving problems, I'm missing a bit here- but why needlessly complicate the situation more? I understand wanting to go about this with magic and mystical...hex blades and magicked disguises since that's what you're all good at, but...Really? Is that necessary? I'm all for flash and jumping in without a plan, but this calls for something less risky.” Once Odhranos' speaks, she falls silent again, preparing herself for yet more talking than she has ever been used to. “I've already told you what I think should be done in regards to Peter, but considering the risk that places -you- under and my relationship with Josleen, how about this instead? I'll present the news to her after the Opening Ceremony for the tournament coming up. The blow may be softened if I tell her, and at worst all you lose an apprentice that has hardly been here. Then you lot do whatever it is you do best and turn the senile pen-pushers against their leader, then oust Brenwyn, or vice versa.” Then Grace speaks, and as she does so, the seamstress's head nods along. “That makes the most sense, pinning it all on Brenwyn. Then it's just a matter of us dealing with him in house or handing him over to Larket.”

Quintessa couldn’t help but quirk a brow at her teacher’s words. “A coup?” The changeling nearly rubs her hands together but she resists the urge, instead moving her hand to rest on Karasu’s knee to reassure her. “During my interrogation Josleen implied that she wanted Brenwyn dead, but how do we know which councilmen are in his pocket? We have one counselor here, Magister Kerrigan, but what about the rest? And when they are gone who replaces them? Us?” Quintessa looks around the room. “I am prepared to take that mantle upon myself, but are the rest of you ready?” The changeling’s sapphire and topaz eyes cannot hide the worry in them at Karasu’s suggestion, knowing how dangerous posing as Peter would be. “Yes, the boy has unfortunately met his demise, making a trade for Kasyr nearly impossible, but Karasu, that’ll be very risky- what if they catch you?” Quintessa turns in her seat to face her before taking a deep breath. “I trust in your abilities, but if something happens to you I’m burning that whole city to the ground.” Her mismatched eyes flicker to the image on Kasyr and the strange woman nods. “I’m prepared for both.” When Odhranos makes his points Quintessa inhales slowly through her nose. “If the current council are puppets, as you say, then why would we want to keep them there? So the next Administrator can abuse their power once more? No, I won’t stand for it. We need a fair and equal council, and if that means getting rid of them all, so be it.” Quintessa relaxes in her seat and stares ahead, letting ‘Sara Grace’s’ words run through her. She wants to open her mouth and speak up about the Ossian Order, but she remains quiet, leaving her involvement with them a secret. Would the changeling report this secret meeting to Brenwyn? Quintessa is conflicted when her mismatched eyes flash back up to meet Valrae’s. “A coup it is.” she finally agrees, before her eyes slowly trail to Iintahquohea, who she rolls her eyes at, dismissing her words. “I believe I was the one calling for a peaceful solution at the pass while you were playing with fire and caused violence to break out. And you ask why we just don’t leave? Because when oppression rears its head you don’t bury yours in the sand. The Mage’s Guild belongs to the people, to the mages that make it up, not to the bloated old quill-shepherds on the council. Perhaps you lack the courage and conviction to stand up against tyranny, or perhaps you have been drinking the Larketian water with your friend the queen. Either way, I’ll not have some half-baked Apprentice talk down to me like she has any inkling of what goes on in Xalious.”

Magik slowly, and I mean slowly, shakes his head as Odh speaks. It was taking everything in him to not stand up and give the man another round of pushing and cursing at the terramancer. Once again, Val/Grace had his full attention. Inks, however, would receive a scoff, "Just leave? Yeah. I'll just pack up and leave. What of the students who call the tower home? What are they to do?" The elf's eyes grow dark as smoke starts to plume off of his being, "What of the students I have who were cast out of their homes because their gifts aren't accepted under their family's roof? The students who are scared because they cannot control their magic and sought out the Guild for some direction? What of them? I guess I leave them and let Brenwyn use them as meat shields for when Larket comes back. But, hey! I'LL be safe." The towering elf quickly gets to his feet and paces back and forth behind everyone, Ohtar only a step behind him. As he paces, he directs his words to Val, "Provost Grace, you have heard my words. You know where my heart is. I'll refrain from any further comment until it's needed."

Kasyr s image briefly jumps in place, courtesy of the loud knock at the door, and the guards voice ringing out. "Are you... alive in there?" In response, the Kensai makes some pretty good wretching noises, and gives the bottom of the door a little kick to boot. Okay, this was actually a little bit fun, at this point. Allowing himself a sigh of relief when the voice makes a grossed out sigh and drifts a bit further, the Kensai finds himself able to properly respond to what's occurring. "First off, if this becomes a coup, I cannot imagine it will be peaceful. A house trial where he's judged by his peers- the council, cannot fathomably go well. Which very well means we'll need to remove him from the playing field- whether by taking matters into our own hands, or feasibly, presenting him to Larket. Frankly, If there's a concern of 'humanity', dealing with him ourselves seems more prudent, then allowing him to become kindling. In itself, however, it still may not be enough to prevent a war. I was also was there when Quintessa met with Josleen- et her stipulation of removing Brewnwyn had been made even before the student was known to be dead." There's a pause here, before Kasyr directs his attention towards Iintahquohae, "And secondly, time is of the essence here, since that unfortunate precedent was already set. By the very mage you'd provided as an example, Daath. In service to Gevurah, no less." Despite the chiding, the Kensai tries to avoid being too sharp, and instead focuses on building momentum, "That said- I think the biggest concern es the possibility that a mass Exodus of members willing to intercede with Brenwyns machinations will allow him full sway over those who remain, and the guild at large. Whatever he's doing, it's worth the risk of quite blatantly threatening war with Larket. Removing any sort of oversight es not exactly a handicap, in that regards, tu sais?" As he speaks, the Kensai finds himself plucking his flask out of his coat- but all he does is stare at it thoughtfully for a few moments, before stuffing it back where it came from. "Even my idea of removing the spellblades on an expedition es not a long term solution. Oh- et as far as learning elsewhere? Whilst true, the odds that all the knowledge contained in the tower would remain intact after a war es quite unlikely. So, there's that, d'accord?"

Odhranos 's head slowly settles into his palms as the meeting slowly begins it's devolution into stroppy bickering. Is it any wonder that the Guild is in the shape that it is when a discussion can barely last five minutes without the festering influence of political muck staining the proceedings. The terramancer weathers the growing onslaught of infighting, but as the voices grow to a peak and words become nasty, Odhranos simply cannot abide being silent any more. "For Xalious' sake, can we not be civil for ten minutes!" The terramancer roars, throwing his hands to the ceiling in despair. "We gain nothing from this! Picking each other apart like carrion birds!" Odhranos' face is bleak and incredulous, blatant upset evident in his voice, but with a desperate sigh, he reigns in his emotions and addresses his comrades. "Inks, I understand that you have landed into this mess unaware of what was going on, and I do apologize for that. But, you must understand, for many of us, this Guild is much more than a school, or somewhere that we can read up on the mysteries of the world. It's a home, a family, for some of us the only home or family we have anymore, and as such we can't simply leave. Magik's words are angry, but I hope you can understand why he is angry. This Guild, to us, is so much more than you can imagine. So much more that needs defending and protecting." Odhranos tone is soft, gentle almost, as he addresses the seamstress. "As for the matter of Larket, each of us hold their own opinions of the crown, for so many reasons that I haven't the time to count. That matter is something for each of us to deal with in our own time, but we can't let it come to bear on how we decide to proceed, otherwise we run the risk of following the same path as the current Council, steering the Guild in the path that fits our ideal, rather than what best befits the Guild as a whole." Odhranos steeples his fingers and falls silent, thinking, trying to plot the course of least danger, one that might lead out of the mist and fog. "Confronting Brenwyn runs the risk of dividing the Guild when he has time enough to gather support. We'll find ourselves with half our colleagues breathing down our own neck, even as Larket starts beating down our door. By the same token, publicly denouncing Brenwyn to Larket is the most diplomatic means of resolving the conflict; Brenwyn answers to Larketian justice for his would-be war, and the Guild makes it abundantly clear that he, nor the actions he sponsored, are representative of the Guild." Odhranos tugs at his robes, considering his next point. "The timing of these two events need to be closely spaced. Brenwyn can't be given enough time to rally his supporters, and Larket can't be kept at bay indefinitely. So we have them coincide." Odhranos fixes Val with a frown. "Meet Larket in the field. Allow Brenwyn to think his rule goes unchallenged until he overextends, then pull back, leaving him to face Larket alone. If he has no time to react, he has no time to recover." Odhranos chews his lip, a slight hesitation in his next statement. "Once he has been deposed, We meet Larket with honesty and sincerity. We measure their terms and do whatever needs to be done to get Kasyr back. Then-" Odhranos turns to fix Quintessa with a frown. "-only then, when we have peace, we look at dismantling the Council. Peacefully. Overthrowing the entirety of the Council simultaneously would be disastrous and would leave the Guild headless and in disarray until new power can be consolidated. And there is nothing to guarantee that it will be under our guidance. We need to exercise as much caution then as we do with Larket, or we may find someone worse than the Council availing of the absence and taking its place."

Valrae seems surprised at Iintahquohae’s passionate support of Josleen, she’s picking her next words carefully when the meeting seems to explode around her. In the silence that fills Odhranos’ impassioned outburst, Valrae sighs. “I know the Josleen you know,” She says softly, a touch of sympathy in her tone, “And I also know the Josleen who spearheaded the persecution of an entire people that culminated in happily burning a witch for crimes she did not commit. People contain multitudes…” Grace’s sympathy ends as she continues, “You are a lovely example. You clearly do not wish war, but as Quintessa has reminded us, it was your actions that helped sprint us to its doorstep.” Grace moves on, nodding toward Magik as he paced while her legs itched to do the same, feeling the passion in that others have voiced echo the thoughts that filled her mind. “We cannot leave. Abandoning the guild is not an option. We cannot waste this opportunity to right whatever has gone horribly wrong inside of our guild. The corruption threatens us all,” She looks to Iintahquohae. “The guild has a long history of abusing its power.” It took considerable will to keep herself from derailing the conversation to point them all out to the apprentice, luckily for them all Kasyr’s brief mention helped calm the Provost’s need. And so Grace falls quiet as she considers. The council as a whole would need to be dealt with, but that matter was far less urgent than addressing the war that loomed entirely too near. “With Brenwyn out of the way and the tension with Larket settled, we could focus our efforts on the council and find a long term solution to filling that vacuum of power but that isn’t our immediate concern here.” A light of hope sparks behind her illusioned eyes. “What Odhranos suggests is risky but…” Valrae looks toward the mage and then slowly around the room. “I think it will work… Can we agree? Out Brenwyn in the final hour, clean house afterward.” And because it felt irresponsible to not mention the worst possible scenario, Grace also adds, darkly, “And if offering Brenwyn doesn’t work for Larket… We fight for our home.”

Iintahquohae has no need to feel embarrassed about the move she made that day, considering Larket's reaction at her apology when it was posed and the lack of reprimanding she has received from the Guild itself. “I popped a bubble that was ready to burst, admittedly – and considering I didn't know what the problem was in the first place since my arrival here, I don't take full blame for what happened. Peter shouldn't have been taken. As for standing up against tyranny – it'd help if I actually knew what tyranny I'm being told I should stand up -to-. It's easy to talk down to others when you know more than someone that is clearly out of the loop.” Quintessa's remarks regarding her magical abilities as half-baked are given a shrug. It's true, and she has no problem with admitting she knows practically nothing and sees no reason to be offended by the comment. This isn't her fight and she has no reason to be upset. “I may be a half-baked apprentice, less than that, in all honesty, but I went to Xalious under -your- recommendation to learn. If you want to dismiss me for being new, knowing little, and actively attempting to learn but receiving little to no explanations, that's fine.” To Magik, she shrugs. “This is why I said, move to chuck him and his cronies out or just leave, obviously with some warning to the students if an evacuation is needed. I happen to be one of those students that cannot control their magic and sought the Guild out for some direction, but you seem to have forgotten. How do you think the apprentices that are just as out of the loop, if not more than I am will feel when all of this is revealed to them? They'll want answers. You all can't keep this under wraps forever. People talk. They'll turn to you all for some sort of guidance – Some will feel betrayed because this has been hidden from them, and fall right into Brenwyn's hands. But hey, since I know about this, I'LL be one of the safe apprentices.” Kasyr's comments about Daath are acknowledged with an appreciative nod. “See? I didn't know this. I was wrong in my assumption. Thank you, Kas.” Once again, the seamstress falls silent, feeling that she had nothing to contribute to the discussion at hand. Being in a position where she is fairly detached from everything involved more than usual, she decides it may be best to sit out whatever the others intend to plan. Valrae is regarded with a wry smile that doesn't fade when her sympathetic tone disappears. “People do contain multitudes, I agree. And like I said before – I didn't know what was going on and have since then given information piecemeal.” Then Iintahquohae stands. Grabbing her cloak, she drapes it over an arm before making her exit. “I have nothing else to contribute and I believe my invitation may have been better placed in the hands of someone who knows more than I do. I apologize for wasting your time. Farewell.” Out of the library she goes, through the cave and out into the snow.

Quintessa folds her arms over her chest, her maleficent aura spiking passively as she stews in her annoyance. She doesn’t address what Kasyr says apart from nodding her head when he points out it was Daath who had originally called on the Mage’s Guild to become a standing army during the Razurath Genocide. For a long time the changeling is quiet, listening to the Magister try to extend his calm rationale to those gathered, and for Quintessa at least, it works. Her aura fades once more and she unfolds her arms to reach over to take Karasu’s hand. In a lot of ways the terramancer was correct, so the hex blade doesn’t speak up; She has nothing more to add, even as Valrae continues. “I agree with the current priorities,” she finally responds, “Placating Larket by handing over Brenwyn is our top concern at this moment.” Quintessa allows the Ink’s words to wash over her before she gives the woman one of her famously fake smiles that she has practiced for months. “I’m sorry Miss Oohjmaeyik,” she says as the woman starts to take her leave. “I forgive you for your ignorance.” Once Inks was gone Quintessa’s smile melts away like the snow on her boots. “Larketian sympathiser,” the changeling mutters with venom in her tone. “She’s going to run to Josleen, you all know this, right?” Her mismatched eyes fall upon all those left in the room. “No matter. We all know what must be done.”

Magik has heard enough. He stops his pacing and walks over to Odhranos. The elf slaps the man's shoulder and softly smiles, "Whatever you need, Odh, give me the word. My office is always open to you." He then turns to Val, "Provost Grace, it was a pleasure. My offer goes out to you as well. This was enough politics for me, no offense." The Lyastri turns to those remaining. Iintahquohae would receive a dissapointing shake of his head. Kasyr would receive a close up wave as Magik moved to check out Kara's magical crystals, "This is neat." He speaks a little louder to Kasyr while still waving, even putting his face a little close to the crystal, "Stay safe, friend. We'll see you soon." Both Karasu and Tessa would receive the same wink next, "See you two soon, yeah?" Was that everyone? With that, Magik and Ohtar make their way towards the exit, offering one more simple wave to everyone in general.

Kasyr let's out a slow exhale as the discussion continues forward, though he reserves a somewhat sympathetic look for his fledgeling. This -was- a lot to take in- and the talk of tyranny was a bit on the nose, given that a comment for replacing the council with some of those present had already been made. Still, he doesn't comment, only offering an appreciative nod towards Iintahquohae when she moves to depart, and a sympathetic, but still somewhat sad smile. "A bien tot." It's only once she's gone that his attention flicks rather sharply towards the changeling, "I'd have a bit more faith in her. I think, at the very least, she may have gotten the gist that to do so would threaten the other students, enfin. As well as me." There's a pause, before the Kensai puffs up his cheeks. "...I'd already be gone, if breaking out wouldn't kickstart a war." You know, despite the fact that he looks like death warmed over, he still seems pretty confident about that. "Still, I guess that means I'm in your hands. I'll hopefully see tu soon." A wink is offered in the direction of the two members of the Spell Blade Corps, before the Kensai directs his attention towards Magik, whose face is looming a whole lot closer to the crystal now, "...A bit. I can't actually see past you. But if Odh's still there. Let him know I want his help on my book et these. Oh, et Mag-" There's a rather loud pounding noise coming from the Kensais crystal, followed by the image of the swordsman winking out as his not-quite-facade of being sick is brought to it's natural conclusion. Really, there's only so long he can dawdle in a bathroom looking dead.

Karasu audibly scoffs at Odhranos’ mention that her father has so much admiration for Brenwyn. But this does get her mind going. Her hand immediately goes to the hand on her knee and squeezes it twice as she tries to keep her breathing even towards the apprentice. It is only when she goes to speak that Odhranos shuts down the brief bickering. She holds her tongue until the apprentice leaves. “Maybe there wouldn’t be infighting right now if there was an obvious sympathizer to mass civilian murders and concentration camps amongst the people who gathered here because they actually give a s*** about the fate of Xalious and the three people in the entire Tower worth giving coming back here despite my own life already being in danger for.” A pointed nail moves from the departing Magikrios, then to Quintessa, then to Odhranos. A sharp glare from several heads causes her to tilt her chin up and lean back in her chair, indicating she was done with the matter. Her hand moves off of Quintessa’s own as the hex blade crosses her arms, and she whispers an apology for the half-moons created on the back of her hand from Karasu’s grip. As she stands, her eyes catch in the lantern light, revealing a black mass around the edges of her sclera. “I have reason to believe Provost Kaaname would actually allow the removal of Brenywn from the council if it meant keeping Larket’s favor, personally, but it doesn’t matter. If a public ousting sends a more powerful message, then I won’t interfere with it. I believe this coup only serves to endanger Kasyr’s life, but I suppose we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” From the pockets of her cloak, a series of papers are produced with embossment on the parchment itself as being from the desk of one of the councilmen. It was unimportant now. “Thank you for your time.” She moves to leave the manse, then doubles back and grabs a tome off one of the grandiose shelves. Without turning her head back, she adds, “Take care, Magister Kerrigan.”

Odhranos half-stands from his chair as Inks leaves, but he sits himself back down rather than chasing her. Whatever needed to be discussed, explained, apologised for, now was not the time. A small dread settles into Odhranos for his arrival to the cabin later, but that is an issue best left to the future. "I don't believe she will, Quin, but if she does, then all it means is another voice in Larket's ear telling it what we planned to tell it already. If anything, planting the seed early could help us. If Iintahquohae informs the queen, we can have a rare early insight into how our negotiations might go. We plan on honesty anyway." Odhranos fiddles with the tatty hem of his sleeve as he takes a deep breath, letting it loose in a weary sigh. Magik is greeted with some surprise in the terramancer's face; he still hasn't entirely figured the Lyastri out. Was he angry? That glower he let slip earlier certainly seemed like cause for concern. And yet, now he is all smiles? Odhranos is perturbed, perturbed I say. He responds with a half-smile and a nod, patting Magik's hand before he departs. Karasu, meanwhile, is followed with a look of upset, prompting another half-rise from the chair. However, this time, as he seats himself again, Odhranos flicks his wrist, and a small dash of sand disappears off into the shelves behind him, sweeping around unseen to catch up to Karasu, dancing like a small wisp before her to catch her attention. When some response is elicited, the sand coils in on itself, forming a small approximation of a compass-like device, a design that will be familiar to the halfling, which settles in Karasu's palm if she'll let it, sporting a small message on the lid; "Thank you for coming back. I'm so sorry." A message that conveys much and yet not very much enough at all. With the spellblade and pyromancer departed, Kasyr's sudden absence is discovered with a flash of dismay, Odhranos had wanted to talk to him a bit more, to ensure he was alright, but circumstances dictated otherwise. With a sad groan, Odhranos sinks into his chair, as he surveys the remaining two. Ah, we three conspirators, how it always does come back to us. "I hate this." Odhranos states plainly. "I really absolutely despise this." The terramancer looks at Val with a pleading look in his eyes, she no doubt expects what is to follow. "I know what you are going to say, but honestly, once this is over, I am done with the council or the running of the Guild. I haven't the aptitude, nor the heart for it."

Valrae frowns at Iintahquohae’s retreating figure, then turns that frown toward Quintessa and shrugs, happening to agree with Kasyr and Odhranos in this instance.To Magik she smiles warmly. “The pleasure was mine, and the same to you,” She replies with a laugh. Kasyr’s departure was met with a smile but little more, while Karasu’s retreating figure earned another frown. The witch moves to a chair and deflates into it similarly, laughing again. “It does always seem to come back to us, doesn’t?” But the moment is short lived. Valrae straightens in her seat again, leaning forward slightly. “Odh-” But he’d expected her and the look in his eyes gave her pause. Her brow furrows as she searches for the words. “You have the heart,” She says simply. “You’re exactly what the guild needs, perhaps if you wouldn’t fight it so hard things could be less difficult.” In a rare show of her own temper, perhaps because all the talk of politics had gotten to her as well, Valrae stands abruptly and gathers her things. “Thank you both for coming, it was good to see you well.” She gives a pointed look to Quintessa, who’d she’d last seen being taken by Larket. And then a harder, more pleading look to Odhranos. “Until next time,” And with that, the witch sweeps out of the cold room.

Quintessa rubs her temple softly, nodding her head at the assertion that she was perhaps too harsh on Inks. “Alright, fine.” The Arcane Stewardess gives everyone a departing wave before she rises to explore the rest of the building, her fingers tracing along the spines of the books she passes. “It was good to see you too,” Quintessa says to Valrae, offering her a genuine smile before looking back to Odhranos. “You should really get some sleep, Magister, it’s starting to show.” The changeling moves to offer him a vial of purplish liquid. “One drop to relax. Two drops to sleep. Do not exceed three drops, understand?”

Odhranos' expression is pained as Val leaves, and he finds himself possibly more troubled than he was when he arrived. The terramancer is quite utterly lost, and yet, every time he tries to take a step back, he is drawn further in. Gods bedamned, could they not understand that even from the very beginning, Odhranos was a walking political disaster waiting to happen?! Odhranos drapes himself from the lip of the chair; no, he considers, I suppose they don't know, do they? How would they look at him if they did know, he wonders. If they knew this wasn't the first war he had inadvertently caused. Sven above, this wasn't even his first exile, regardless if it was self imposed or not. Odhranos is interrupted from his introspection by Quintessa offering him a vial of suspicious liquid. "Huh. Thank you." Odhranos murmurs, taking the vial and holding it up to the light, inspecting it if only to watch how the light diffuses through the coloured substance. "Right. Hmm. Right." Odhranos slowly drags himself out of the chair, pockets the vial and makes a vain attempt to square his shoulders. "Onwards." He mutters, Quintessa forgotten behind him as he begins his trudge out of the library, to the caves that beckon beyond, with the blissfully silent stone, that envelops and protects, safe from kings and administrators and councillors.