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Fantasy Royal Witches

welian

#BlackLivesMatter
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Introduction


In a faraway fairy tale world, there is a small but powerful country called Arcana. Here, only women are born with magic. The most powerful of these women earn the title “Witch”, and are enlisted in the Royal Army to protect Arcana from all her foes – especially the most dangerous threat of all, the Blight, terrifying monstrosities that infect and poison the very land they walk on.


Every night these monsters crawl up out of the Abyss. Some nights, when there is a full moon to illuminate the wilderness, only a few come up to wreak havoc. Other nights, when there is no moon, they will swarm like locusts and devour crops and cattle whole.


Many times throughout history, the witches of Arcana have endeavored to defeat the Blight, but no one has ever come back from the Abyss alive. To even get close to it is a dangerous ordeal, the few survivors only able to speak of immense darkness, and creatures that think and speak like witches, but their power… With gaunt faces and pallid skin, not many who make it back live for much longer.


It has been a hundred years since Queen Ilexa sacrificed herself to protect the capital of Arcana, the city of Sylva. A hundred years, to build up a stronghold, to smooth out relations between the witch clans.


Perhaps, Queen Amelanch thinks to herself, it is time to try again, to seal the Abyss forever.
 
If the Queen of Arcana had her way, it would be a dark and stormy night, with the pattering of rain against the stone of the castle. She would be in her bed with an enchanted candle and a book from the university, her husband asleep beside her while the distant rolls of thunder were the only storm in the land.


But no.


Amelanch glanced up at the sky. It was in fact, broad daylight, with the morning sun rising up in a bright blue sky, clear save for the occasional puffy white cloud. It was by any observation a perfect day, laced with warm breezes that caressed everyone’s faces and told them how much the Sisters cared for them.


All around the city, decorations were going up – bouquets of spring flowers, colored paper chains, and many spirited citizens were wearing crowns or daisy and clover. The winter’s snow and ice was almost completely melted for the year, and now that the trees were green again, it meant that it was almost time to celebrate Springtide.


The Queen had other plans, though. It was a joyous time for Arcana, celebrating the rich beauty of the land, and her people needed that in these trying times. She had received a message yesterday evening, that a tiny village on the outskirts of the land had fallen victim to the Blight. Overnight, livestock fell to oozing sores, three children had died of fevers, and all the fields had wilted away into dry, gray stalks. With nothing left, those villagers would be joining a caravan headed to Sylva. Of course, they would have to stay in the slums outside the wall – no one who might be carrying the Blight would be allowed within the city until they have passed a rigorous examination. Magic, for all its power, could not heal that which was alive, only repair the inanimate.


Blight was known to come and go in waves. The last significant wave happened thirty years ago, while today’s children knew little of the danger, the parents – all the adults who had been tots back then – remembered learning at a very early age what death was, what it was like to keep vigil for an enemy that could not be seen until it was too late. Amelanch could only thank the Sisters that she, as one of the royal family, had been spared most of the danger by living her entire childhood within the barrier of Sylva.


“… Tonight,” she mused to herself, gazing over the streets below from a palace balcony. Tonight she would gather her finest witches and wardens, and they would –


“Tonight?” A tall, wispy white Font repeated her, confused.


“Tonight!” Amelanch and turned and smiled at her – though, it being the Queen, it was less of a smile and more of a mere lack of a scowl or grimace, an expression that indicated neutral content rather than any sort of happiness. “I have been avoiding the main plaza since yesterday, my – my mother used to tell me that it would be the bad luck if I saw the Lamb before it was ready to be lit. I wouldn’t want to bring such ill omens to Arcana by seeing it before it's ready tonight."


“Ah!” The Font’s eyes lit up. “My Lady, it’s – well, it’s impressive. I wouldn’t say it actually looks like a lamb, though. Personally, I think it looks… more like a bear…” She trailed off, fidgeting. "... But I can't say that, my girlfriend helped make it..."


Had the Queen possessed a sense of humor, she might have laughed. Instead, she just shook her head, pale blonde curls resting against her rich white and red robes.


“No one will be sober enough to tell. Now, go home. I’m sure your father would love to have you and your lady at his table for Springtide.”


As the young Font, a faithful servant, bounced away in joy at the prospect of an unexpected vacation, Queen Amelanch returned to her darker thoughts - would Arcana make it through the summer with Blight on the horizon?


OOC: Let the games begin! The Queen is in a fairly public part of the palace if anyone wishes an audience with her, otherwise with preparations for a festival going on and filthy peasants outside the wall, I’m sure you all will have no issue making up a place to set your characters.
 
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Connor was nearly standing on the tips of his toes to reach the shelf. "Be careful, dear." his mother said, hovering nearby. "I don't want you or that clock to get damaged."


That clock was what he was after. It was old, even to Grandma, who was tge oldest person Connor knew. His mom had somehow gotten it into her head to display the clock for the festival, something about representing that passage of time. He wasn't a woman or a scholar, so he didn't bother with things like that. Yet his mother had insisted, and his height, contributed by both father and grandfather, made him the perfect candidtate to reach where not many others in the family could.


"Can't you just magic it down?" he asked, brushing the clock with the tips of his fingers.


Crossing her arms, Mrs McKinley gave her son a stern look. One she had given him many times over fkr the exact same reason. Men, or at least this one, never seamed to understand that mana (manna?) was needed. And this she launched into. "Now if I could, would I have called you? I don't want to waste any crystals on somethig lime this. Those Dartens down the street are charging a fortune to replenish them. And even if we did have the money to spare, you know I am not good with doing small things like this with it."


He just rolled his eyes and let the words roll over him. A Blade Master and Warden, and still getting his ear chewed off by his mother. Luckily, he managed to tip the whole thing forward slightly, and caught it as it started to tip beyond the point of no return. And now that he had it in his arms, he couldn't help but wonder why it was so heavy. And he had tk walk down the stairs and out the door to get it to their stall.
 
With all the merrymaking going on it could be hard to imagine there being an imminent threat looming on the horizon. Death cared not what the season was, and for a moment the woman had to wonder if everyone was just ignorant or in denial. A bit of both, perhaps. In the end the people's happiness and well being was the reason the Queen stood against the Blight. Someone might as well enjoy the hard earned peace, if not for themselves then for those who could not. Whisper knew well about the cost it took to keep Sylva safe. Nine more of Arcana's own innocents had been 'removed' from the outer slums last night by her hand alone, their Blight sickened bodies deemed too much of a risk to be allowed so near the capital. There were others like her who also performed regular, discreet sweeps through the districts outside of the city's protective barrier.


The total tally had numbered just over fifty people displaced last night. Their bodies were snuck into a small underground complex outside the city walls to be properly disposed of before their taint could infect anything else. As an inquisitor, the only crime Whisper could charge any of the afflicted with was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hardly anything compelling to warrant murder, but the alternative was just too precarious to allow. A letter had already been sent to the Queen to inform her of the previous night's proceedings, and hinting at Whisper's dubious assumptions of the latest band of refugees that would be flocking to Sylva soon. The crematorium would be ready for the new unfortunate influx, and life would continue unimpeded for the citizens of the capital city.


Again Whisper shifted her attention to a handful of children at play. Seated against a tree in a grassy courtyard she silently observed how the kids laughed and smiled, and she regretfully reminisced on days long since gone by. In any case it was good to see that someone was having a swell time. As for herself she had her hood down, and was plainly visible for once. Every now and then just acting 'normal' by society's standards helped to clear her thoughts, and take her mind off things that she had no real control over. Her chest rose and fell with a sigh as her impassive blue eyes looked to the sky. It was a beautiful day all things considered. A small break from her duties wouldn't hurt. From her pouch on her belt she carefully retrieved her small pan flute, and started to play an upbeat, cheerful melody to lighten the mood.


To her vague surprise some of the children came over to listen and dance to the tune. One of the girls was carrying a basket full of picked flowers from which she and a friend started to make flower crowns from. Whisper entertained the kids for a few more minutes before being interrupted. The woman blinked at the flowery headpiece she was offered, and accepted it with a quiet word of thanks and a faint smile. She bowed her head to help the girl place the crown on her head before resuming her music. Perhaps today wasn't going to be such a bad day after all.
 
Alice laid on her bed, just listening to the wind whisper and her allies chatter. They seemed distracted; normally at least Locke noticed her breathing speed up and her eyes open. It was not like the spirits had anything better to do. Instead, they were all cheerfully talking about the festivities coming soon.


Another minute of listening, and Alice sat up, stretching and yawning wide. Trill noticed her moving first and smiled wide. <Been sleeping a while, Little One.> Trill said, walking over. Locke sat on the window sill, Break, by the door, and Juniper seemed distracted by the way the curtains fluttered in the breeze of the partially opened window. Alice nodded, and pulled herself from bed.


The next half hour was a well oiled routine. Stretch, meditate, wash, dress, food. All the while, the spirits bickered between each other, paying almost no mind to what Alice did, other than to move with her as she went from one place to the other. Once her routine was finished, Alice looked out the window at the bright sky and sighed softly. It was a peaceful day.


Walking on the pathways through the city, Alice quite enjoyed watching people put up decorations and talk excitedly to one another. The festival was soon, and Alice was looking forward to it as much as everyone else.


<Something is going on, Al, can you feel it?> Locke asked, looking around carefully.


"Other than the festival, nothing is happening. Quit trying to ruin my good mood."


<No, I mean it. Look. The people may be happy, but the spirits are not. They seem restless. On edge.>


"You know I can't feel emotions, Locke. And I can't see all the spirits you can. Why would they be nervous anyways? Seems like no one is upset about anything."


Locke did not say anything else. There was no explanation for it that they were aware of. It was not like the spirits ever left her side unless ordered to.


A pan flute interrupted her musings as to what Locke could have meant, and she looked over to see someone playing for children. She felt herself grin, and headed in that direction. As she got near, she looked at one of the children who seemed lonely. A cute little girl with bouncy red curls and bright green eyes. Alice held out a hand, smiling. "Come on, lets dance."


The girl hesitated a moment, but then nodded, matching Alice's smile. What followed could hardly be considered a dance. It was more Alice and the young girl bouncing and spinning around haphazardly, nearly in time with the pan flute playing, but more just to entertain the little girl. As they spun and danced, Alice's loose fitting, light colored clothing made her look similar to the storybook depictions of ghosts, but her dark skin more or less ruined the illusion.
 
No one really bought fine clothing at a booth.


That was why Crystana had come up with a brilliant solution to sell woven sun hats. She sat in a chair, humming quietly to herself as she weaved the straw. People walked by, chatting, and she smiled up at them. It was good to smile for business. She was very open and happy when it came to her work; about everything else she was rather shy. Crystana wore a long blue kimono-like (but short-sleeved) dress and white flats, dawning a woven sun hat that she had made at the beginning of the day. Not many people had bought her merchandise but Crystana didn't mind. Joy filled the air and the sun was shining. It was beautiful.


"Excuse me, ma'am. How much would that dress be? It's simply gorgeous." Crystana looked up. There stood a brunette woman with shimmering green eyes, nodding her head towards Crystana's best work - a satin and silk dress. She had spent hours upon hours on it, perfecting every detail. Crystana stood up slowly, the half-made hat still in her hands. "It would be expensive. It's my finest work yet." She said slowly. Crys didn't want to scare the woman off, but she wasn't going to sell it cheap, either.


"Ma'am, I'm fully prepared to pay very well for this dress. I can see it's worth it." Crystana's jaw nearly fell. The woman opened up her purse. She didn't even know what to ask for anymore. What would be too high, what would be too low? She didn't want to take advantage of this woman's generosity. The woman giggled, shaking Crystana out of her thoughts. "Here. Will this cover it?" And she put quite a few gold pieces on the table. "A-are you posit-" "Yes! Of course I am." Crys picked up one of the gold pieces. This wasn't possible. When the woman looked away at the sound of a child shrieking, she bit down on the gold quickly. Hard as metal.


"Miss, this isn't gold." Crystana said quietly, and the woman squeaked. "Oh, dear. I-I.. I must be off. So sorry!" And before Crys could say another word, the woman vanished into the crowd. She had taken the fool's gold with her.


No one bought fine clothing at a booth.
 
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY LEFT THE VILLAGE?!”


Jamie yelled slamming the sharp blade of a letter opener down into the ornate desk, a once soft smile twisted into horrid sneer and enchanting eyes now glaring at his ‘guest’. The guest in question was one Clare Redfield a small time trader but a reliable one very much inland and she was currently, unfortunately, the messenger. Jamie stalked away from his desk and paced the finely appointed office in his large heeled boots, his anger smouldering as he awaited a response to such dire news.


Clare was caught off guard to say the least Lockhart was something of a well-known gentleman, emphasis on gentle as was the nature of men in high society, they were expected to be demure and delicate noble creatures. However she had quickly found that to be more of a mask much like the exotic wooden carved affairs that adorned the walls, strange trophies from foreign lands of dense jungle and those that never heard of the three sisters. What she found instead was something of a wicked task master, a man that valued gold above most and cared for little else. But he had two redeeming features she reminded herself as she stepped forward and pulled the documents in question from her satchel and rolled it out upon the desk. For one; his coffers were deep, he was spearing heading the family mercantile dealings and had ties to a vast about of luxuries abroad but had few holdings here which meant he needed and paid for someone like her.


As for the second redeeming feature, well her eyes wandered for Jamie had settled down and now had his back to her as he gazed out the window at the small gardens. She started at the legs; they were long and shapely, currently garbed in cream white hoe’s that led to a lush red doublet. His waist was narrow emphasised by the triangular design of the same hued jacket, the broad straight edge drawing focus to his wide shoulders. To finish the neck line was tight and high ending in a small lace ruff, his blonde locks of hair hanging loose about his angular features. A smile pulled at her lips, he was gentleman in appearance at least, some pretty little thing meant to be swept off his feet by some fine noble women. Shame he was a vicious little prick she concluded avoiding his gaze as he turned and stalked back over fierce green eyes scouring over the papers as she explained.


“The caravan is coming down from the west, they took stock around here” Redfield gestured to the map laid out on the table. “Only supplies you gonna have for miles if you’re heading back to Sylva, the damn place is out in the sticks love” Jamie scowled at that rather familiar remark and Redfield coughed awkwardly. “I mean..er...Your Lordship” She quickly corrected adjusting her simple brown coat regaining some composure before continuing. “But yes I've got some friends up there still, warehouse folk, well word spreads fast once you reach the river and well whisperings are its well...Blight” She couldn't help but fidget, for this certainly this wasn't something you spoke of in polite society, while Jamie snatched up the letter.


He was silent a moment, deep in thought, this was most dire. The Lockhart family had always relied on importing various more exotic goods from abroad. It was the very base of their power, but this meant they were highly reliant on independent merchants, such as Lady Redfield, for housing and distribution. Well that was not strictly true; they could deal with the other trade families which meant dealing on their terms. Lockhart’s would not grovel to those assorted squatting trolls, demanding extortionate rates for secure passage with trade goods, a blatant attempt to keep their family in check. These were long established family lines that frowned upon this younger families upstart behaviour or rather hated the fact they hadn’t secured such routes themselves. Alas mother had a habit of rubbing the various trading cartels the wrong way. He slumped into his chair scrunching up the offending paper and took a moment to brush a wayward lock of hair from his eyes, his features softening as he slipped his more pleasant mask once more.


“Darling” he cooed. “You prove a precious gem in the rough once more. This is certainly...troubling shall we say, if it is indeed an issue of the Blight one can hardly blame your ‘recommended’ work force for fleeing my property” His voice was soft and pleasant yet still loaded with venom reminding Redfield of her part in recommending the local workers for she had scouted the area. “Of course however this means there is a rather ripe silver vein currently occupied by those filthy creatures, poisoning my earth, spoiling my warehouse and rotting my tools. Need I remind you this is the FIRST Lockhart endeavour ‘inland’ for quite some time, I invested in your little 'find' in good faith of grand returns my fine Lady” Again Redfield could taste that bitter venom but kept her peace. Jamie smiled pleasantly once more lounging in comfort as he continued his little ‘assessment’.


“NOW if this is indeed the case. I’d imagine our dear Queen will be distressed with this news, can’t have the Blight encroaching so during her reign, rather bad form, no?” he proposed but did not give his guest the chance to answer. “Certainly to think any less of her would be treacherous surely? Which means it would be my civic duty to bring this matter to the court, my mine needs to be reclaimed, the blight need to be put to the torch...and these people need their homes returned to them of course” Redfield shifted uneasy a moment unsure if he had finished speaking, Jamie wiggled a brow and gestured vaguely with a slender hand. “OH! Yes of course, I am sure she will want the land reclaimed in the name of the sisters” She chimed to appease; she often found it better to go along with the man at times when he became like this and she for one simply wanted to get back to work.


“Then my dear it would appear I have an appointment with our dear Queen to keep”
 
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Evy sprinted across the right side of an abandoned building, lunging to the building next to it. She quickly curled up and rolled before jolting upright and continuing her pursuit. She was after a small bounty, but his speed and stamina proved to be troublesome, for her body build was strictly for strength and not for the Olympics, which the bounty was clearly capable of participating in.


Without a second thought, she slung her hand to the sheath that held her faithful wand. Unfortunately, for her the wand was not sitting pretty in her sheath where it should be, but on her nightstand where she placed it before going to bed the night before. She winced at the thought of forgetting her only offensive weapon for her faster bounties. However, if she happened to have something to write with and on, she could write the spell. She wasted no time giving herself a quick pat down, it was apparent that she had none of the things required to perform the spell either way.


She collapsed to her hands and knees in a fit of gasps and wheezes, her body had hit its limit and she would not be able to move for a while, but at least she could pick him out of a crowd. “Well, there goes my grocery money that I needed, and I don’t have any fruits for breakfast.” She fell face first onto the thin layer of gravel that covered the roof of a small business of sorts. She then rolled over and spread her arms and legs, looking up at the slow moving clouds as they covered the blinding sun. It was going to be a rough walk home for her, and she still had training to do...
 
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Fianna was in a foul mood. She hated travelling by cart, but it beat the hell out of walking. Besides, it wasn’t like there was any other option since the blight took her horse just North of Hogarth’s Crossing. Lounging dejectedly against the weatherworn wooden frame, Fi tried desperately to ignore the jolting of the cart, the squealing of ungreased wheels and the cries of all the Temple district hawkers surrounding them. Each stall seemed to display a seemingly endless array of charms, blessed bracelets, healing stones, bones of this or that monk or saint, swatches of cloth taken from the backs of noted devouts that had passed away in frenzied rapture or pious violence – in short, anything and everything that might tempt pilgrims that were hoping to enhance their spiritual purification. Fi brushed aside a collection of sticks thrust at her laced with charms like a small cascade of beading.


“Cure the ague, rot and clouding blindness” a tout yelled, an old rheumy-eyed woman clearly relying on her appearance to lend credibility to her holy wares. Fi shoved the hawker away, adding a brusque comment “Yeah, and I’m the patron saint of fresh turds, crone. Go peddle your two-bit forgeries somewhere else.”


Fianna could only shake her head; it had been a long time since she bought into any sort of religious teaching but she didn’t remember the whole thing being so, well, seamy. Raising her voice to be heard over the cacophony of the crowd, she threw an irritated glance to the bulky man driving the cart in front of her. “Queen’s teats, man. Can’t this infernal thing go any faster?” In response, her grizzled companion gave her a gap-toothed grin and nodded towards the plodding workhorse that drew the contraption. “She ain’t as lazy and useless as you, but she’s tired. We go at one speed only. Unless you want to pull the cart yourself?” Giving a snort that only widened the man’s grin further, Fi settled back against the cart “Oh, go to hell you sexless oaf.”


Her latest maps and reports were fresh from the outer edges of Arcana. Chances are that news of the blight had already reached the capital, but Fi’s detailed maps meant a responsibility to take the information to the Royal Court, perhaps even an audience with the Queen. Fianna’s stomach tightened at the prospect, especially given the nature of the bad news she was bearing. Hopefully the remuneration was worth it. Letting loose a breathy sigh, she reflected that perhaps the carts ponderous pace wasn’t such a bad thing. If only it were a bit more comfortable.


Gods damn she missed her horse.
 
Anastasiya Anatoli Markovic III



Mood: Bad


Location: McClaren's


Company: Alone


Tags!:


Music: "



"
The sun rose that morning to find that Ana had been up for close to an hour. Her intent had been to watch the sun come up, but instead she ended up staring at her mirror. She was lost in thought. The girl staring back from the mirror looked exactly like her. Her hair was messy, just like Ana's, as if she had just woke up and had yet to comb it. Though the girl looked like Ana, and seemed to mimic all of Ana's movements, there was a feeling in her stomach that there was one key difference between herself and the girl in the mirror. Ana reached a hand up, under her messy hair, to touch her left eye. Ana found closed lids over nothing. The girl in the mirror did the same, but her hair made it impossible to see the girl's left eye or what she found there. Ana's gut told her that the girl in the mirror most assuredly found her eye to be there with sleep still in the corners.


Rising from bed her footsteps were quieted by clothing strewn about the floor. Ana moved to stand in front of the mirror that had caught her attention this morning. The girl in the mirror was every bit of Ana as she was, but... that feeling persisted. She wasn't Ana. Ana's right hand clinched into a fist, she raised her hand up to the same height as her shoulder and gently placed her fist onto the glass. Her eye was locked onto the girl in the mirror's eyes. Ana's knuckles whitened as her fist steadily put more and more pressure on the mirror until there was a noise emitting from the mirror itself. It was going to crack under the pressure.


Somewhere Ana got lost in the mirror and her thoughts, and it wasn't until she heard a voice that the spell was broken, "Everything's okay."


Ana felt like her stomach dropped and her heart skipped a beat at the same time. She took a step back from the mirror, her hand shooting up to uncover the hair from her left eye, revealing the spot where her eye should her been in the mirror. Her breathing was quick, almost as if she hadn't been breathing the entire time she'd been caught up in the mirror. She started to panic. Ana was now face down in her bed, her eyes closed as she tried to calm herself. She could hear the voice echoing in her head, telling her everything would be okay. That everything was okay.


She was alone in her room. She was alone in her life. There had only ever really been one other person in her life, and that person was gone now. She hadn't gotten over it, not entirely. There were still mornings like this. Mornings where she'd wake up and catch herself thinking of her.


Thinking that maybe the last few years had all been a dream. A nightmare that she'd been forced to live out all one thousand and ninety-five days (1,095) of. She'd walk out her door and there she would be. Waiting on her, to scold her for something or to hurry off with her to breakfast where they'd laugh and joke and plan for the day.


Thinking that maybe the last few years weren't just a dream, but a premonition. She'd walk out her door and there she would be. Waiting on her, to scold her for something or to hurry off with her to training for the day and slacking off in practice with their Apprentice work. Only for her to lose her again to the sickness.


"Without you I am incomplete." Ana whispered. There was no one to hear her, and she was just fine with that. She didn't want anyone seeing this as it was. It was just another bad morning. Tomorrow would be better, it always was. She was only having bad morning because it was almost time. Almost the anniversary. Almost another year past. Almost Springtide.


Ana got dressed a few hours later. She cleaned herself up, combed her hair, put on her eyepatch, and then headed out. Her rank was clearly displayed on her jacket, along with her petals. Today was her day off, and she'd normally wear some cute outfit or go shopping for a new one, but today she was feeling a little anti-social. So instead of a cute dress, she put on some more uniform like, and wore a jacket that displayed her rankings - hoping it'd keep people from approaching her, though shopkeepers weren't too inclined to care about the way she was dressed, only if she had the cash.


Ana made her way to one of the local greasy spoons and went inside, intend on having the most unhealthy brunches one could get. She had extra cash and was going to splurge. Self destruction did tend to have a fun side to it. She ordered two large plates of the breakfast platter. She wouldn't eat all of it, but she didn't need to. What she didn't eat was going to end up in the hands of someone that couldn't afford to even eat at a restaurant. She sat back in her chair and looked out the store's window, watching people pass by.
 
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"Right! Dahlia, lift from that corner so we can heave this altar of a table next to the booth, and then Bob's your uncle!" Standing at one corner of the heavy table Veronica gestured for the other female Warden to take the corner beside her's. Across from them both stood a tall burly man also dressed in armor. The piece of furniture they were about to move was large and thick for a table, and made from a wood with a dark red hue. The lacquer finish made the color stand out rather well, but as far as the Wardens Captain was concerned it was too damned heavy to be worth anything. Veronica had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason old lady Winifred had bought the table in the first place was because she was sure she could bribe others into moving it for her. Given current events the Captain's theory seemed to hold water. There were only three of them, but by the Goddesses they were going to help the old shrew move the behemoth, and claim their reward of freshly baked tarts!


"Cap? Bob's my uncle," interrupted the only male in the trio with a smirk


"Oh shut it, Muldoon. We all know I have the best uncle anyways. And heave!" Veronica braced herself and pulled upwards at her given corner of the table. Muldoon on the other end could handle his load, but the furniture won the battle as the last member of the group failed to respond.


"You mean the one who invented the cracker?" asked Dahlia with a coy grin, leaning on her corner of the table of all things, clearly more interested in playfully ribbing at the Captain than breaking her back.


The table awkwardly fell with a heavy thud as Veronica and Muldoon let it down, the former of the two letting out an exasperated gasp with the effort. Taking a moment to stare at Dahlia with a distinct frown the Captain drummed her fingers atop the table irritably.


"Yes, my Uncle Graham! And you'll remember the story that way next time you're around my sister. Now lift for all you're worth, Warden!"


Eventually the trio got the table situated next to Winifred's booth, and each Warden left with a warm apple tart in hand. Veronica was careful not to get any of the fruit filling on the fingers of her gauntlet, and now that they were finished with community service she was extra mindful of the blades mounted on her equipped lantern shield. With her colleagues in tow they resumed their patrol through the streets. They had long since finished their baked rewards when they came across a small crowd staring up at the rooftop of a small business. A cursory investigation explained that two people had jumped onto the roof just minutes before, and while one man had jumped down and ran off, the second person had yet to be seen. Veronica had her two comrades chase after the man in question while she searched for the other hooligan involved in this incident.


She had to go into the building to find the stairs taking her up to the roof, and she guarded herself carefully with her shield when she opened the trapdoor leading her back outside. She expected to find a body and blood, perhaps a misplaced internal organ as well, but to her pleasant surprise she only found a body. One that looked intact from what she could see. With her shield still in a ready position Veronica kept her other hand on the pommel of her sheathed sword as she stepped onto the roof.


"An odd place for cloud watching, isn't it? Careful though, or you might be mistaken for someone suspicious," called out the woman crisply, sarcasm etching her words.


@Captain Willum
 
Margaret Hagermaus


Mood: Fairly relaxed.



Location: Outside Crystana's festival stall



Company: Crystana



@'s:
@CloudyBlueDay


Other:



Springtide in Alfurasva was a time of great celebration, a time to sing to the heavens and shout with all your pride. The people try their damnedest to show their passion and strength, they roar in the face of Winters wrath to show it that after months of the chilling cold, they are not broken, and they will live to fight another year. Their celebrations and songs are aimed at crumbling winters spirit and lifting life out of the frozen ground, it's truly a time of great pride for Alfurasvians. The noble family of House Hagermaus were always a sight in the celebrations of the common citizen, with the castle opening up the last of the winter food stores that had seen them all through the freeze to the people of the land. This year however Lady Hagermaus was not to be present, her sister Viktoria was heading up the celebrations back home, Margaret had other more pressing duties to take care of.



Sylva was a bright and carefree place compared to her homeland, the streets were lines with decorations that were not to be set on fire as a "fuck you" to the snow, the people were selling wares to travellers and singing their praises to the queen instead of swapping food and drink with their neighbours and chanting "war cries" from street to street. It was different, but it was a welcome and refreshing change.



Margaret and her small entourage, two Squires and a trainee Handmaiden, paced her way down through the celebrating crowds, her clothes were fairly understated for a noble, the high quality yet understated furnishings were definitely a cut above the average persons. She never liked to stand out
too much if she could help it, but her towering height, high quality sword, and eye-patch weren't exactly subtle...


"My Lady, I would hate to be a nuisance, but your sister is expecting us at the palace soon. Sadly we are not here for pleasure, there is still work to be done." a young woman following behind Margaret said politely as the group wandered past a stall of baked goods.



"Yes, yes. I am well aware of the purpose of our visit, but the day is new, and it would be a great shame to not experience this festival, no? My sister is sure to understand, we have some time. Ohh this smells nice, are you hungry?" Margaret responded passing another stall covered in ornately plaited breads and pastries. She looked at the three following behind her, two young girls and an older boy, the three of whom exchanged some glances with each other and the stall, a little unsure of how to respond.



"Good man, three of your butter twists, and one..." she paused, looking behind her. The two girls seemed pleased with her choice but the boy, he looked less so. "... Make that two butter twists and two iced buns." Margaret finished. A glance at the beaming smiles behind her said all that was needed.



"Thank you, my Lady!" the three answered in turn a they were handed their treat for the day.



"I'm not a fan of pastry either, Erik." she smiled at the the boy. "Alright, you are all free to browse, spend your earnings if you wish. We shall meet... the palace gates in an hour. Do not cause me trouble, and have fun." Margaret said in a friendly,yet superior tone, not willing to quite step out of her position as their Mistress. The three youngsters bowed and gave more thanks before disappearing into the crowds of the city streets. Squires and Charges were fine, but being followed by three young people all of the day can be a little overbearing, especially when the person they were entrusted to considered themselves pretty independent.



With a little sigh, Margaret returned her gaze to the various stalls and began to browse once more.



A short time later


The wares on display were a pretty different to those that could be found in Alfurasva, There was less leather goods and more textiles, less hunting items, more decorative display pieces, it was an interesting difference. As Margaret walked through a busier section of the market district she passed by a crowd standing outside an auction house of some sorts, they were all haggling prices and bidding against each other. Stopping to observe the action, Margaret listened as the prices rose and bidders tried to psych each other out with bids and taunting stares, but before she could get much more absorbed into it a bump from a young woman broke her attention.



"Oh! I, I. I'm so sorry! I was rushing and I didn't see you, the crowd, I..." The green eyed woman rambled on with an embarrassed look on her face. Margaret stood in front of her, her intimidating stature and demeanour at first seemed to be a sign of trouble, with a few members of the public looking nervously towards the two. An imposing "higher upper" being "insulted" by a commoner? Nothing good could come of it.



"Oh, no no. You are quite alright young lady. However... It would do you good to return my coin purse..." Margaret spoke calmly, her hand already on the hilt of her blade. "If you return it to me I shall let you leave without further incident, if not, then you will be apprehended and punished for thievery."



The woman's emerald eyes darted around the crowd, who by now had flipped their view of the situation and had more of a scowl between them than a look of worry. She reached inside her sleeve and took out a small leather pouch, the drawstrings were cut, but otherwise it was still whole. Margaret held her hand out in front of her, and sheepishly, the young woman placed the pouch into her large hands.



"Thank you..." Margaret said quietly. "Now get out of my sight!" she snapped, causing the green eyed woman to yelp and dash off into the crowd. These things weren't uncommon for a large city such as Sylva, even if the city was prosperous, it didn't mean all of its inhabitants were.



Continuing further down the rows of stalls and avoiding the stares of those that had witnessed the scene she had just caused, Margaret found herself next to a stall of woven hats and embroidered fabric clothing. It wasn't quite her style, but they were certainly of a high quality. Looking at the samples on offer, a brilliant blue piece to the read caught her eye, not that it was hard to avoid, the aqua blue was almost glimmering in the sunlight falling across the city.



"Excuse me, that dress. did you make such an item?" Margaret asked politely to the black haired woman behind the stall.



 
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Vera Mordel


Mood- Annoyed



Location- Lecture Hall



With-



“It has been known for some time now that the blight do not favor environments with an excess of solar based light- it has been observed that the blight’s rate of growth is most active at night, and even more-so in the absence of the moon, particularly a full one. But until this point, it has been unknown as to why this apparent phenomenon occurs…”


aside from the scribblings of pencil on paper and a rouge cough, the lecture hall was silent but for the white witch’s voice. Vera spoke in a dry, un-humoured tone… it was clear she had little desire to be there. After all, she knew many of those attending were less interested in her research itself then trying to find faults in it. But not all the audience were as such… there were many other, brighter faces with ears tuned into every word she said in hopes to understand the blight so as to further and better defend their kingdom, though Vera noted the Queen was not among them... She wondered if her old friend was simply to busy, or still avoiding Vera as she had for many years. It was all the same to the scholar. She was only here because she was required to be… keeping herself and her research useful to the kingdom ensured she would get all the funding she needed, as well as their “looking the other way” on the more… immoral parts of her research. After all it needed to be done, and of all the researchers of the blight Vera’s sometimes immoral methods had also proved to yield the most results.

“A clear trend became apparent through repeated trials of increased exposure to a variety of radioactive sources- namely sunlight- on a wide range of specimens afflicted with increasing concentration of the blight. Individuals with a relatively low level of infection experienced symptoms of accelerated nausea & headaches unique to their usual symptoms upon high exposure to sunlight. As one might expect, these symptoms far accelerated beyond the specimen’s ability to communicate their discomfort and often in advanced cases resulted in death." As Vera continued, her eyes cast lazily at her audience at their reactions, betraying their uncomfort and Vera to smirk. Though she never mentioned a word of it, it was clear by her vocabulary these experiments were on live humans afflicted by the blight, and had been brought to her for study rather than being quarantined and disposed of. It was certainly a more noble death to serve the advancement of knowledge than to simply disappear from the face of the Earth, but still very few of these… specimens… had offered up their lives willingly.


Vera continued her explanation, omitting the more gruesome details in favor of facing as little persecution from those who didn’t seem to understand the importance of her work. In the long run, there was nothing any of them could do about it… Vera knew despite the nitty gritty details of her work, it was invaluable to the kingdom and because of this she could do near anything she damn well pleased… so long as it served in the best interests of their civilization. As she moved on from the trials of her research Vera turned her attention to the practical applications, meeting eyes with likely the most interested individual: Cain Dion, the General of the Royal Army.


“In light of these findings, I have developed a series of crystals which radiate this same solar light at a high concentration, enough to match that of the midday sun. Beyond use for personal protection, these crystals have an application to on a larger scale serve as a deterrent for the spread of the blight in the vulnerable territories who sit outside the protection of the barrier…” Vera continued in her standard, uninterested tone as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, brightly glowing crystal and presenting it to the court. “ It should be noted that despite the extremely high energy contained within these crystals, there is very little need for maintenance beyond their placement. There is very little chance of a fault within the crystal, as I personally have overseen their creation. I assure you, the only threat these crystals can possibly pose is no more than a sunburn." She stated in simple terms, flicking the crystal before casting her gaze over several members of the audience looking for ammunition to thwart her proposal. "I have already organized the placement of these crystals in several of the villages nearest to my home on the far mountain, and- if it suits the Kingdom’s interests, would like to organize the distribution of these crystals among all the outlying & unprotected villages.”


Wrapping up her presentation, the scholar paused for only a few questions before concluding and stepping outside the lecture hall. How particularly dreary these events had become, though Vera had never been a fan of the presentation of her work. She was happiest back in her laboratory where there was nothing to distract her from her work. Through slitted eyes she cast a low glare at a group of younger mages attempting to approach her as she adorned her lips with a lit cigarette. Likely they were here to ask her more questions, of which she particularly did not care to answer where a simple textbook would suffice for the imbeciles. It only took a dark glare from Vera behind a veil of rising smoke for them to get the memo and to clear the room.


‘Come back when you have something of more value to me then questions…’
 
She was this close to being robbed. Luckily years and years of experience and many close calls, sadly, had trained her. Plus.. it just wasn't logical that someone would prance in and fling around that amount of gold coins. Too good to be true. No one was that kind, that perfect. Heck, no one even wanted a dress. They just wanted the silly woven sun hats. This wasn't the right place to sell her wares but she had nothing better to do. Business was slow. Crystana slumped back in her chair, and using a simple spell levitated the half-made hat from the booth's front table where she had left it. Yes, she could have just stood up and grabbed it. But she was busy sulking.


Reaching down into the bag next to her chair which was filled with straw, she once more began to finish the hat. It was hard for Crystana to really voice her anger, she wasn't the type of person who was going to start flipping tables. So, in a frustrated manner, she weaved the hat. Which wasn't a good idea, because within a moment it had practically crumbled from her angry weaving. But a voice snapped her out of it. "Excuse me, that dress. did you make such an item?"


"Are you here to steal it too?" Crystana suddenly snapped. She jumped up, clenching the unfinished hat in her hand. "Pay twice as much fools gold as that woman offered? Deal. Sold." Crystana yelped, throwing the hat in the air behind her as she gripped the booth's front table to glare at this woman. Then, Crystana blinked.


"Oh! Ohohohohoh, oh dear, I'm so so so very sorry, please forgive me. There was just a woman here earlier, and she tried to steal my best work, and I just was so angered! My deepest apologies, ma'am.. m-miss.. uh..." Crystana paced around the small booth, rubbing her forehead and then gazing at the woman in front of her, hoping she didn't ruin everything.


@Giyari
 
Cain watched the presentation from the back of the room, his arms crossed as he listened to the information intently. Vera's work always did need one's absolute attention; otherwise the controversies with her work went straight out the window. It was ugly, but the progress was necessary. Especially with the Blight becoming more and more prevalent outside Sylva. The pretense of the presentation was to show her progress to try and stave off the Blight in areas outside of the Barrier's reach. Something Arcana desperately needed. His eyebrow rose when she brought out one of the crystals to demonstrate. Certainly less macabre than the LAST experiment she was going nuts on. There are still some people who can't eat lamb after that one.


After the presentation ended, Cain watched how the others reacted to the information they were given. One part was skeptical, another hopeful, and a few were..Well, let's just say not all those who could use magic were intelligent. He dropped his arms and began casually walking towards Vera, the large amount of people looking up at him before clearing a path almost franticly. Apparently a good amount of the people in the room hadn't even noticed he was in attendance. Not that he minded not being noticed. It was refreshing compared to the usual headaches of his title. He watched as Vera dealt with the others as they began trying to ask them questions. Clearly she needed some alone time again.


"Enlightening as always." Cain spoke up, remaining where he stood as the others fled from Vera's glare. He had dealt with Dragons with lesser intimidation, yes. But the Queen had her own horrific blend not to be trifled with. Cain stood before the White Witch, his hands behind his back in a manner he did so habitually. It seemed to put people at ease most of the time. Queen Amelanch had told him before that most people seemed to shrink in his presence, which he found asinine, seeing as he wasn't all that taller than most. So, apparently looking less intimidating was a good thing.


"Your contributions have always far-surpassed any expectations laid before you. This latest project is no different." he told her giving an approving nod. Sure, the two were known to butt heads on certain issues involving Warden and Civilian safety, but Vera's work always did impress the General.


"Perhaps with a mass scattering of these, the Abyss wouldn't be such a nightmare for the soldiers." he said, looking out a window at a few Wardens in the courtyard going through drills.


"If possible, I would recommend each Warden be issued one when the creation of these Crystals becomes easier." he added, before looking back to her. A question had been brewing on the back of his mind about the crystals after they were revealed.


"Is it possible to amplify the crystals to have an offensive capability?"
 
"Mother, why do we need this at our stall?" Connor asked innocently. They had reached their stall, the smell of baked goods and sugared treats was overpowering, yet welcoming. And as he set it down gently, Marcy responded with her fists on her hips in the usual manner.


"It gives the place a whole." Here she paused, snapping her fingers as she looked for the right word. "Homely? Yes, homely. Now get back there, a pretty face sells food much better then any other." She continued, shooing him behind the counter and following closely behind. They had brought something portable to cook some more up if they had to, but that was only if they had to.


He got right to it. "Get the best sugar buns in town. And apple tarts made from the best we had. Don't forget a drink to wash it all down."
 
Evy blinked three times in succession before attempting to get a look at her unexpected guest. She quickly flipped over and got into an offensive position. It might have looked like a normal knee to chest squat to any ordinary citizen, but anybody with experience in fighting could tell that her legs could send her flying with a powerful lunge.


“I was chasing after a wanted man, and after chasing him for, lord knows how long I collapsed on the roof of this building. Did you happen to see that man go by?”


She turned her attention to the sword at the woman’s side and thought about how long it was and how much time it would take for the woman to draw it and properly swing it. She had no clue at all of how fast the woman could unsheathe the blade, but she knew one thing though, she had one lunge at most to grab hold and take care of business. She shrugged off those thoughts and returned her gaze to the woman’s face.


“I haven’t done anything wrong, in case you got that idea.”


@Hungry Hungry Hobo
 
Whisper

As she continued to play her flute Whisper gained another dancer in the troupe before her. This time it was a woman who couldn't be much younger than herself. The blue witch calmly observed the stranger while she maintained her melody's tempo. The sporadic movements of the newcomer and her partner could hardly be called proper dancing, but it appeared to achieve the desired effect in the end. Both females were smiling and having a good time. Whisper herself was almost mesmerized by the display of the other woman's movements. Her loose, almost billowing clothing frolicked through the air without a care in the world, as did the woman's strikingly pale hair. The white strands swayed and cascaded as if they were performing a dance of their own. In the midst of the chaos of the twirling and jumping of the stranger's darker limbs, the lighter colors truly did resemble carefree spirits flitting about wind blown branches.


'Beautiful.'


Once the music came to a peaceful end Whisper rested her head back against the tree she was sitting against. Her chest gently rose and fell while she caught her breath. Some of the children voiced their sadness at the end of her song with whining 'awwws,' but she shook her head with an apologetic smile. "I am sorry, but that is all for today," she answered quietly. Standing up she returned her pan flute to its pouch on her belt in an almost reverent manner. Music was one of the things she held dear without guilt. To share its charms with others was one of her more enjoyable past times, but she had dawdled long enough. Her gaze fell upon the younger woman again to study her in a casual manner. She did not recognize the white haired stranger, but the feeling appeared to be mutual, a fact that Whisper didn't mind. Her identity was more of a phantom and a rumor amongst the general populace.


"You dance well. You should consider a position in the parade if you are not already involved in the festivities." It was an honest compliment, although her soft tone was deadpan, and expression blank. Dealing with children was one thing, but with other adults she maintained her impassive visage. Still, Whisper nodded her head respectfully in tandem with her praise to help portray her approval. "The spirits of all Sylva could use the cheer," she whispered cryptically more to herself than to anyone else. Many times before she had thought to play her music for the departed in the crematorium, but could never bring herself to after her involvement. Hopefully they would find some form of solace with the Springtide celebrations going on.


@The Blue Element


 



Veronica Faulkner

Oh, goody. Whoever this person was she was wound up like a spring, and just as likely to pounce if the other woman's readied posture was any clue. Veronica kept her lantern shield at the ready as well pointing the barbed spike on the curved face towards the person of interest. The Warden's feet adjusted so she wouldn't be caught flatfooted if she was attacked, but so far her suspect felt like talking, for now. The blonde cocked her head to the side at the explanation she was given, her dark brown eyes narrowing slightly. Having been transferred to Alfurasva for several years now she wasn't familiar with Sylva's current list of bounties. It always surprised her known felons would even linger in the capital city to begin with.


"A wanted man, huh? Well, that is something worth of note isn't it? Let me guess; he stole your sweetroll. In any case I've sent my associates after him, and rest assured that the Wardens will handle him if he is a criminal. However, that still leaves.." The woman's voice trailed off as she noticed the still crouched person of questionable intent staring at her sword. A frown etched itself onto her face. With the hand she kept rested on the pommel of her sword she jerked her thumb upwards in a gesture to regain her suspect's attention. The woman claimed she hadn't done anything wrong, but Veronica scoffed at the flimsy defense.


"You may not have done anything wrong ever since I came up here, but you're certainly not emanating an aura of innocence and trust, are you? Not with that pose, and most certainly not with the way you were eying my sword." Idly she moved her hand from her sword's hilt to her hip to assume a less aggressive posture herself. Diplomacy was not her forte, but she had taken a few pointers from her younger sister last time they had talked. In theory if Veronica relaxed her body language more she wouldn't appear so confrontational. If this suspicious woman ended up tackling her anyways the Warden was going to find whoever taught Mabel that bit of advice, and punch them. Possibly repeatedly. "I am Captain Faulkner of the Queen's Wardens. I can prove who I am, but can you do the same?"


@Captain Willum
 
Springtide. It had always been one of Derora’s favorite times of the year. A time to start fresh, start anew, with the dull dreariness of a long winter finally behind them. The grass, she knew as she sat atop the wall, would be a bright, vibrant green. The sky would be a brilliant blue, dotted with the gentle wisps of white clouds. Springtide meant flowers, the living rainbows of their meadows, and the dazzling silks and cloths of spring dresses. For a moment, with her chin lifted slightly towards that blue, blue sky, Rori swore that, even from the outer wall of the city, she could smell the tarts and pastries being sold in the booths.


Because her guide was having her own fun scouting out the beautiful spring day, Rori glanced to her left, hearing the soft shuffle of footsteps upon the wall. Poor little recruits, she mused, forced to stand watch upon the wall even on this most beautiful of days. Shaking her bangs from her face, Rori offered up a quick smile, meant to charm and disarm. Some soldiers were always a bit alarmed to find someone traipsing about on the wall. But this one…ah, this one, she recognized.


“Tell me, Kimberlynn, are there clouds in the sky today?” The newly recruited private stopped short, her pretty young face scrunching up a bit in bafflement before she realized who she spoke to. Automatically, her shoulders straightened and, though they all but shared rank, the younger woman found herself holding back a salute. She didn’t need to ask how the woman knew her name. She always knew. Dutifully, Kimberlynn glanced upward, folding her hands behind her back.


“Yes, ma’am. They’re wispy today, just floating on the breeze.” Satisfied, Derora nodded, a smile playing across her face. Beside her, the young soldier hesitated, then cleared her throat.


“Ah, ma’am, that is…This is the outer wall. Are you…lost?” Losing some of her hesitancy when the older woman snorted out a laugh, Kimberlynn watched her raise a brow, tilting her head to the side. Her every gesture seemed to be a casual thing, without much thought or deliberation. Such confidence, perched almost defiantly at the edge of the wall, had always made people question how Derora Norstrum had been born a witch of the blue magics.


“Really now, soldier, I’m blind, not touched in the head. Go on now, but be careful as you walk the wall. There’s a bit of a breeze coming shortly.” The soldier nodded, keeping her opinions to herself as she carefully skirted around Derora before going on her way. As she walked, she let out a quick, relieved breath. It was always disarming, looking into those empty, glazed over eyes. Some said they’d been green as emeralds in the past. In the past, before the cringe-worthy accident of friendly fire had blinded her, putting scars upon a face that Kimberlynn could still see the beauty in. Even as she sighed, a hawk flew and circled overhead, letting out its joyous cry. Despite herself, the young soldier smiled as she carried on with her duty. Blind she may be, but Derora of the Queen’s army had devised countless other ways to see.


Rather pleased with herself and the brief interaction, Derora’s smile brightened at the triumphant call of the hawk, and she raised an arm, where a leather cuff was strapped. “Dristi. Welcome back, my friend.” The hawk landed firmly upon the leather cuff, standing regally for a moment before it abandoned dignity to leap off and sharpen its talons on the stone wall.


“You’ve smelled it too, or you would’ve flown far past the tree line. The sickness is spreading, and that which spreads it…it waits. It waits for us to blink, to close our eyes for a moment so that it can come closer.” Though her tone was as casual as always, there was a seriousness to her expression that rarely lingered for long, and an impatience found in the way her fingers flexed upon the staff laid across her lap. The staff, carved of ash and studded with miniature crystals, found its power in the crystal formation, which had been crafted in braille, so that Derora might always wield her magic in word form. She used this magic now, running her fingers over the raised crystals, sighing out a long, low breath as the breeze shifted ever so slightly, swirled around those just on the other side of the wall, waiting their turn to be examined and allowed entrance into the city. With a slight tip of her chin, her fingers pressed upon the crystals, Derora brought the wind back to her, breathed in deeply. After a moment, something like pity settled on her face.


“Sickness has taken hold in more of them yet. A pity, as always, that for all our magic, we cannot heal our sick. So children will die tonight. Dris.” Understanding her mistress’ commands, the hawk leapt off the wall, circled down to flit between the refugees who sought shelter within the wall. She, the tracker of the Queen’s army, was tasked with seeing that no trace of the Blight went unnoticed wherever the Queen’s subjects lived. So while her hawk acted as her eyes amongst the living, Rori sat atop the wall, her staff pointed out towards the horizon. There was more to fear, so much more, than what lived just outside the wall. It was that which was not yet seen, not yet found…that was what she searched for, with each shifting of the gentle Springtide breeze.
 
The dark carriage rattled down the cobbled side street for the main roads were flooded with the common folk and not even Jamie’s foul mood could get through that in any good time. So for now Clove, his trusted manservant, snapped the reins on the two chestnut brown mares twisting and turning the carriage deeper into the city.


Inside Jamie mused and pondered amongst soft red leather seats, dotted with brass studs polished to a shine, with the purple velvet curtains drawn shut. He was in his own world as he thought of what had to be done. There was plenty light left in the day and the Queen still held public council till the later hours but given the festival season it was best to arrive as soon as possible less the parade steal her attentions. His thoughts were disturbed as he heard Cloves usual cursing and the crack of the whip as he sent a small group of peasants scattering out his way. Jamie smirked; Clove was certainly a reliable man, mean as he was ugly and Jamie certainly was feeling particularly charitable at the moment. He brushed a slender finger at the curtain and peaked at the scattering unwashed peasants as they passed, he couldn’t help but grimace, at least they distress was some small pleasure to be had.


By the three sisters he despised this place the more he thought of it. He had been born abroad under a blazing sun and seen such strange sights, exotic jungles deep and dark as well as great pyramids lost in seas of sand. But this place just wasn’t the same. He hated the damnable cold of course that was without question but he supposed the summer season was pleasant enough. But there was something wrong; something awry about the place, it was vibrant and beautify in its own way after all it was the capital. The shinning jewel of the empire. He pondered some more, he was so used to travel in his youth and witnessed such long dead places, so void of people and so old even the rot had crumbled to dust. He supposed they had been so empty and...sterile?


Yes, that seemed fitting. This place was living and breathing, thousands of people rubbing shoulders as they went about their lives. With their filthy cloths and dirty lives, he grimaced once again, the Blight was at the cities very door step! He breathed deep trying to calm himself the very idea causing his chest to tighten in panic. He quickly set about loosening the latch on the small box he kept close by when travelling, a reassuring scent of spices wafted over him as he opened it. It contained bottles of every colour containing various tincture, tonics and smelling salts meant to ward off sickness and the foul air that caused it. He ran his fingers along them causing them to clink together, even the noise reassuring. He soon decided which would serve him, plucking a small blue bottle from the selection, with a twist the cap was free and he soaked his silken handkerchief in it. Soon the overpowering smell of lavender invaded his senses and he found comfort in that. He held it in place a moment inhaling deeply.


A sudden jolt and assorted chatter brought him from his little episode and quickly brought his thoughts back to the matter at hand. The carriage jolted once more as with proper papers they were let further into the palace grounds finally coming to a halt by the proper entrance. The main gates reserved for grand occasions after all. Jamie gathered his satchel filled with various papers and simple maps of his claim to the silver mine; he would prove his ownership and get a straight answer on the state of the village. If this turned out to be some farce he would see Redfield swing for it. He covered his eyes from the sudden exposure to the light but regained his composure soon enough and awaited Clove to fold out the small stairs attached to the door frame. Finally, with Clove standing by, he descended the small steps standing proud in his fine regalia.


He hadn’t much time so hadn’t changed and besides with the inclusion of a simple shoulder cape about his left shoulder he was rather in keeping with current noble fashion. He relaxed somewhat reasoning the air about the palace assuredly would be cleaner than amongst the peasantry but kept his lavender scented handkerchief with him none the less. He strode forward and was soon greeted by one of the many stewards and Jamie quickly slipped on a pleasant smile. After a brief moment he was ushered inside into the illustriously decorated chambers and found himself once more in awe of its splendour. He hated the city at times, but the palace was perhaps the redeeming feature that left him awestruck every time and furthermore hungry for a taste of such luxury.


He came to stop as the steward bowed humbly to point out they had reached the audience chambers where her Royal highness would take such official visits. Jamie awaited his audience as was the etiquette, meanwhile the steward slipped past the grand doors to find the Queen and present her with a small letter introducing her to the matter at hand. Namely; the Lockhart claims to the silver mine and the concerns of ‘Blight’ there in. Jamie paced, covered his nose and mouth with the scented silk and inhaled deep to steady his nerves. This was an important matter and furthermore concerned royalty. He stifled a brief cough before gaining his regal composure once more making sure his pretty smile was firmly fixed in place for the occasion. And so he waited, he would be called in and formerly introduced when the Queen was ready to see him.


@welian
 
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CELESTE SOLARIN

Blue Font, Engineer





Outside of the Lecture Hall


With Vera and Cain



Feeling Anxious and Peeved


@Zahzi @KiraInfinite




Celeste Solarin crawled out of her bedroom window before the rooster’s call, before sunlight broke over the horizon, and before Grandma McKinley made her rounds about the house. It was dark but the fifteen-year-old font was able to maneuver her way onto the branches of a gnarled oak by the light of a nearby street lantern. Her destination: the Academy of Magic just over four miles away. Celeste was simply, but finely dressed in fitted brown trousers and a white long-sleeved blouse. Both were hand-me-downs from the wardrobes her host family, as were the shoes on her feet, the frock around her shoulders, and the blue barrette in her hair. Those facts didn’t stop Celeste from owning her look, though. She walked down the sidewalks in the dead of night with her head up and her shoulders back as if she belonged in their clothes, belonged in the capital, belonged in this life.



By the time she arrived at the Academy, a small group of students was already gathered. Celeste took a lonely spot among them and waited as the sun rose. Over time, the crowd grew until a line formed that stretched around the building. Celeste kept her hands shoved in her pockets and her head down as those around her murmured about the event they were all there to see. A notably reclusive Grand Matriarch of the White Magic Guild would be making a presentation to a select audience. Most in attendance this early in the morning were either fans of hers or curious to know what she was in town to show. Celeste was there to submit a private request. She’d reached a crossroads with her latest project: it was time to test them, but she hadn’t any live blight. While she possessed the credentials to acquire one, the guild wasn’t comfortable placing a monster in the hands of an “inexperienced child”. That put Celeste in a difficult spot: either she could ask another researcher for permission to use their blight, or she could enlist and perform her field testing that way. She’d already been turned down by three of Sylva’s finest. They each saw her endeavor as a “waste of their resources”. Celeste could understand their sentiments but she was also anxious at the thought of having to join the Army. She preferred to avoid it at all cost if she could. That’s why she was banking on a “yes” from either of the two names left on her list, Matriarch Neave Niccals and today’s presenter, Grand Matriarch Vera Mordel.



The doors opened thirty minutes before the Grand Matriarch was due to speak and of course, all of the seats in the lecture hall were already reserved for the elite. Staff members began the process of sifting through the crowd outside to see who might be allowed to wait in the halls. Celeste, being among the first people in line, was let through without much of a fuss. Her problems lied in getting a decent view once the presentation began. She was far too short to peer through the glass windows without being nudged, pushed, or magicked out of the way by someone else. Celeste grit her teeth and stomped the calf of one of the witches who pushed her. She was tempted to kick another, but an employee rounded the corner instructing everyone to keep still and stay quiet. Celeste retreated to a spot on the opposite wall. She could still hear the Grand Matriarch’s voice from where she was. That would have to be good enough.



The frenzy resumed as the presentation wound down to a close. Everyone was again nervous and pushy as they battled for a spot near the front of the pack. The commotion grew to its loudest just before the Grand Matriarch opened the door, but when she did, it was silent. Celeste could only assume that the crowd was stunned by the woman’s austerity. She carried herself with an aura that was the opposite of friendliness, happiness, and all things comforting. Standing near the Grand Matriarch was very discomforting, but Celeste was desperate enough to push her way forward.



“Grand Matriarch,” she said. “Congratulations. My name is Celeste and I’m curious to know if—”



She wouldn’t get a chance to finish. A mustachioed tinhead exited the lecture hall and cut in front of her, asserting himself to the very front. If the other students were nervous before, they were fearful now. Most backed away like mice and left the two alone. Celeste wasn’t one of them. She fixed her crimson glare at the base of the male’s neck and scowled. If either expected her to leave on her own will, they had another thing coming. It was damn near impossible for even someone with a research license to gain an audience with the Grand Matriarch. Celeste had waited hours just to be allowed into the building; she wouldn’t easily let her one chance slip away.



Her frustration dissipated into boredom as she listened to the old man. She’d grown accustomed to the “oohs and ahs” that were the common man’s amazement whenever advancements were made. The old man's words sounded just as impressed minus the usual stupefaction. Judging from his words and his opinions, he must have been a warden in the Army—a moderately high ranking one, at that, to be referring to soldiers so distantly. Still, knowing those things did little to appease Celeste’s slighted mood. She used a pointer finger to idly pick at the wax in her right ear. When she pulled her finger away, she pretended to examine the sticky lump then flicked it at the male’s lower back when she thought the Grand Matriarch wasn't watching.



It was at this moment that the old man asked a question of particular interest to Celeste. He wanted to know whether the Grand Matriarch’s solar crystal could be made into a weapon. She tilted her head to pick at the wax in her left ear as she thought. Her eyes appeared to look at nothing in particular as the possibilities crossed her mind.



“What you’re asking could technically be done,” she hummed aloud.



“There is only one knowable way to ‘amplify’ the radiance of such a crystal for fighting purposes, assuming two things: one, that its mana composition is entirely white and two, that there is a spirit working on the crystal.” Celeste could have gone into the logic behind her deductions, but she felt that doing so for him would be a waste. He wasn’t interested in the "how" behind the crystal-only in if it could make mincemeat of blight.



“All it would take is a certain kind of spirit: strong-willed, self-sacrificing, restless, committed. I suppose a spirit with a loyal bond with its witch could suffice. Anyways, all a witch would technically have to do to weaponize a solar crystal is command the spirit powering it to give its life energy to the reaction... That would be more than enough to overwhelm the balance keeping all that mana in one crystal.” She moved her finger from her ear and examined it again. She was almost disappointed to see that her nail came away was clean.



“The resulting explosion would be extraordinary. I don’t doubt that it could level a space one-fourth the size of the Merchant Quarter... It might also blind anyone who looks at it, though that would be the least of your worries. The problem would lie in detonating the crystal without catching anyone in the blast. There would be no surviving something of that magnitude without suffering severe burns. Not even mana enforced steel could withstand it all.” She looked over the man’s armor with pursed lips. She could tell that it was enhanced just by looking at it, but nothing beyond than that.



“That would be the only way to do it.”



Celeste turned her attention to the Grand Matriarch. She reached into her pant pocket and revealed her twelve-petal license to the woman, thus identifying herself. She held it out in case it was to be inspected for authenticity. She was used to it by now. Most people didn’t believe that a fifteen year old novice could possess such a license.



“Forgive my interruption, Grand Matriarch. I’ve stood in line since before dawn just for a chance to see you. I will leave the two of you if you only promise to hear my request afterwards.” She lowered her head in respect and waited for her response.
 
Margaret Hagermaus


Mood: Amused



Location: At Crystana's stall



Company: Crystana



@'s:
@CloudyBlueDay


Other:



Well, a bit of a shouting at was not the first thing Margaret expected from a stall vendor, but it also sounded like the young woman had been subject to a rather rough day. The fiery reaction was quite a contrast to the young woman dark hair, pale skin, and blight blue eyes, but you never could tell a book by it's cover, could you. Margaret stood with a slight blank stare as the woman continued shouting, without raising her eyes. There was two things wrong with this action, one, she was shouting at a noble, and two, she was shouting at a potential customer, but she was also lucky that this customer was of the understanding type, mostly.



Watching the woman's hat fly over her shoulder as she got to her feet, Margaret smirked slightly. It seemed that the realisation had hit the vendors face.



"If you are talking about the woman with green eyes, I have already dealt with her. But you are quite alright, I can understand your frustrations. I know there was no personal insult meant, perhaps just bad timing on my part." Margaret laughed as she picked up one of the finished hats from the table. They were quite well made, nothing spectacular mind you, a straw hat was still a straw hat, practical but not meant to last a great length of time. The blue dress caught her eyes once more, reminding her why she had stopped.



"But yes, that dress. Would it fit a woman of... Let me think. Bust thirty-two inches, twenty-four waist, thirty-four hips? Or around about there, I believe... It has been a few months since I have met her." Margaret explained, a visible look of thought on her face. Sizing someone from vision alone was something she was generally pretty good at, in fact you could call it a talent, or maybe a perversion? It depended on the context I suppose.



 
Evy removed herself from her offensive pose and stood up straight, stretching her arms in the process. She did not consider herself part of any big family, but of small origins as her father had few relatives in comparison to her mother. She took in a deep breath and released it as an exasperated sigh, showing her defeat to her higher ranked guest. It was something that she was not fond of, defeat, rarely experienced, but always relished when a beautiful woman was involved.


“My name is, Evy Kagori, daughter to Ghit Kagori, and master in the art of grappling. I am fairly sure that you have not heard of them, but I assure you that I am a master in my art.” She said as she flexed her biceps in an attempt to impress. She knew that it would not work on someone of that rank and beauty, as she often thought of herself as ugly.


“How much of the money are you going to keep, if any? I need to take him in for my breakfast and you’re not helping me any by barging in on me.” She calmed down a bit and reworded her question. “Am I going to see any of the money from that catch, or am I going to have to return home empty handed?” She was trying her best not to sound too forced and at the same time a little impatient. It bothered her a great deal that someone was standing in her way and there was nothing to do but allow it to happen. However, it was nothing new to her in her line of work and it was surely not worth her freedom.


@Hungry Hungry Hobo
 
The enthusiastic pair continued their dancing about until Alice noticed the song coming to an end. As it did, she picked the young girl up and spun in a circle, causing the girl to squeal in surprise and delight. Alice set the child down and crouched so she was eye-level with the girl. Both still grinning, Alice pulled a coin from a small pouch on her hip.


"Can I ask your name?"


"
Marianne." Said the girl quietly.


Alice held the coin up between them. "
As a thank you for dancing with me, I'm going to give you this coin. You have to promise me that you'll use it to buy yourself some sweets today." The young girl glanced at the group of kids pestering the musician, looking nervous. Ah, to be a child again. Hiding emotions was something unheard of at that age. "You have to promise me to buy it for yourself. No one else danced with me, did they?" The girl shook her head. "Exactly. If you want to be nice, you can share it, but this is just for you." Marianne nodded again, looking serious, up until she held the coin in her hand. As soon as it was definitely her's, she grinned a childish grin and took off towards the market to buy something sweet. The witch and her spirits watched the girl run away, all smiling.


<
Oh, the musician is watching us. Wonder what she wants?> Juniper asked, attention now to the woman who had been playing. Trill went over to her to get a closer look, probably to see if the woman posed a threat or not.


As if reading the woman's mind, Alice turned her attention to the musician a few seconds before she spoke. The woman had interesting markings etched along her pale skin and was certainly taller than Alice, but otherwise seemed normal. With the flute gone, her expression had more or less disappeared behind a mask. It was such a sharp contrast to the little girl's open emotions, and Alice wondered what could have made her close herself off like that.


Her grin, momentarily misplaced, had returned at the woman's compliment. It seemed a little brittle, but no less real than before, simply because Alice was not quite sure how to take the compliment with how it was presented. The woman then said something that Alice could not hear, and she looked up at Trill, smile dropping a little.


The question in her eyes was all Trill needed to respond with: <Oh, she said 'the spirits of all Sylva could use the cheer.' Maybe Locke was right, something is happening.>





Still clearly not focused on the musician, Alice said, "But I won't know for certain unless I send one of you or await orders, so we will wait for now." As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, Alice shrugged and walked towards the woman. She stopped just out of arms reach and looked up at the woman. There was no fear in her eyes, no recognition either. To Alice, this woman was an interesting citizen of the city, especially since she had mentioned spirits. "I could possibly join in the festivities, although I think my duties as extra security around the festival will be equally important." There was a pause as she considered the woman's second comment. "I was informed that some spirits seemed... distressed... but I haven't been able to fully investigate it yet. Is there something going on that hasn't spread through the ranks yet?" She asked, smile gone. Alice seemed genuinely concerned that something may have been happening.


Suddenly, Alice's eyes widened, realizing introductions had not been made yet, "
Oh, I'm sorry! Here," Her expression disappeared behind another smile and she held out a hand, "My name is Alice Karga, what's yours?"


@Hungry Hungry Hobo
 
Vera Mordel


Mood- Intrigued, Annoyed



Location- Lecture Hall



With-
Cain, Celeste


"Enlightening as always." Another cloud of smoke escaped Vera’s lips as she cocked an eyebrow up at the man approaching through the fleeing students, who in fear of the two intimidating powers skirted as far around him as the walls would allow. Amused, the white witch flicked the accumulating ash off of the end of her cigarette and turned towards the man. One of the very few with both backbone and merit enough to speak with the scholar, Cain Dion was one of the very few Vera owed any respects at all… both were powerful within the ranks of Sylva, and both were very good at their jobs. She knew his only reason to approach her would be for matters of strictly business… That was all the conversation she could tolerate with anyone, and the general was likely the same. She regarded her relationship with the man of importance, as losing his support could be disastrous for her research… but was sure he knew as well as her that to a fault, she was untouchable. There were other researchers in her field indeed, but outside of that ever excitable flit Neave Niccals, Vera’s work had done more for the kingdom and it’s armies than anyone else… without her continued research, all of Sylva would likely be a fraction of what it was today.


“My, if it isn’t the great General himself. I should be so honored…” Vera spoke with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, showing him the respect of a slight bow and a smirk, “I knew of all the audience of Sylva, you would likely have the most interest in this presentation.” she added before taking another long drag from her cigarette. Vera’s eye contact with the general broke momentarily as he gazed out the window in through, and she noticed they were not yet alone in the room. A young witch wearing a face that spoke of boredom and annoyance stood behind Cain, likely in hopes of gaining an audience with her. The scholar had to smirk at the gall of the young one, catching her at the moment she flicked a lump of some substance which had been residing in her ear only moments ago at the great general’s armored back.


Vera’s eyes darted back to the general before her as he addressed her with a question regarding the offensive capabilities of the crystal. It was not Vera’s intent in their creation, however she had expected such a question to arise from the man. Remaining silent a moment as if to press her disdain at furthering the conversation, the white witch took a final puff from her smoke and dropped it to the ground, watching it fall before her cold eyes met the generals once more. However as she opened her mouth to finally reply, another voice sounded from behind the man belonging to the young witch. Vera’s typically annoyed expression became dramatically worse, that some student would have the gall to interrupt a conversation between the two, all while keeping the continued maintenance of her ear’s hygiene.


As the youth spoke however, Vera’s expression changed from annoyance to interest. This witch’s deductions of the crystals were all correct, however she was playing cards of information Vera would have chosen to withhold, at least until she could ensure Vera could gain something from disclosing the information… yet perhaps this young witch was doing the same… Despite the audacity of her interruption, her analysis- combined with her attitude in the face of two esteemed individuals far in rank above her had made a definite impression on the scholar... though you would never know it by looking. Through it all her face maintained a cold, expressionless stare. Upon finishing, the young witch presented a 12 petal license to Vera, to which her eyes quickly verified it’s authenticity before she glared back at the girl.


A moment of silence passed before Vera looked back to the Cain without so much as an acknowledgment to the girl. “Well… you have your answer then. I will organize the distribution of the crystals to all the outlying villages… they should arrive within the week.” She stated matter of factually to the general, “Now... if that will be all General, I must be getting back. I have work to do and a far way to go... Oh- and give my regards to my old friend, the Queen.” The white witch finished her statement with a clear undertone of disdain before stepping past the General and young researcher briskly towards the door. Upon reaching it, she paused casting a cold look back at Celeste.


“Come… If you wish to speak with me, you best do it quickly. I have little patience for anything not worth my time.”
Vera said quickly, despite her demeanor- the young one had made an impression. Not many were invited to an audience with her...and with that, she pushed through the doors and continued on towards the exit of the city.


@Zahzi


@Capella


[ooc: Sorry for the wait.]


[Edit: Vera's snide way of saying hello to the queen]
 
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