The sun was cresting the morning horizon, bringing with it light and warmth that those in the arboretum craved. Casii could feel the grass around her tingle in excitement as they began to gorge themselves on that sunlight. The roots of nearby trees that stretched below her stirred in life like they were waking. It was encouraging to see that these plants continued to thrive in spite of the yaniis around them. If they could do it, she certainly could try to. It’s like Isii said. It's just what we gotta do.
The Student Faire was meant to be the place to do it. Casii reached into her bag and withdrew a familiar seed, taking it and giving a whirl in her finger before tossing it to her side. She channeled through the seedling and it sprouted swiftly, roots embedding and a bud growing. In less than a minute, a brown head of what looked to be cabbage had grown. Of course it wasn’t as innocent as cabbage.
Casii turned over to her plant and plugged an outer leaf. It was thin but durable and very flat. She spread it out in front of her and turned her attention to the head of the clustered brown cabbage and tore into it, digging towards the center and most dense part. Here she’d find the richest part, densely packed layers of leafy goodness. She’d pull a sizeable amount of material and crunch it into her hand. With a touch of magic, she ground the material into fragments.
While she worked there, she had magic take over on the leaf she had flattened. Water was pulled and the leaf dried out becoming rigid like paper. The perfect vessel for the fragmented material allowing Casii to sprinkle it in. When she had used up all the particles, she rolled the leafy paper into a joint and placed one end into her mouth. She laid back again watching the sun come up.
A blue flame flashed on the end of her joint, igniting the end of her joint and allowing her to take a huff of sweet intoxicants. She exhaled, blowing smoke with a certain satisfaction before turning to the remains of the plant. She pulled from it one seed and stuffed it back into her bag before the whole plant turned to dust.
While the Societies for the Faire set up. Casii would bake in the morning sun like the plants and trees around her, too.
Interactions: None 2.2 Faire-ly Easy Choices
Casii turned and spat, the black tar of her Jamb’ysp coming out. A passerby nearly had their shoe spat upon and looked disgusted, jumping away and mildly cursing. Casii didn’t notice as read through her society list. Her scrawlings are written in yasoi, naturally.
Yasoi’riimei
Pumpernickle
Fauna Society
She gave the nut in her mouth a swirl, shifting it to her other cheek in contemplation. Her head jerked up in recollection, scribbling another name down.
Essence Club
She had apparently been on their watchlist for a while. They were cool. For yaniis, anyway.
Location: Fauna Society Day of the week: Lepdes Characters: Carmilia @Animus and Evander
Erasand’Enise was a place that continued to capture the imagination of Evander Synesti. Every twist and turn around city blocks called to him to explore; one day, he thought, this will all be mine. Evander was several days into the adjustment period. Having recently traveled from his home in the lands of Revidia, he could confidently wake up in his Noble Quarters, look around, and agree it was satisfactory for a prince.
Evander had slipped the last button on his jacket through its respective slit. He looked into the mirror to check his demeanor; you are Evander Fino Synesti, Marquess of the Syensta province, son of Duke Foscari; remember why you are here and who you represent. Evander smiled at himself, his mission was clear, but today, he’d become acquainted with the local stock of the school, what fun. Evander exited his room; the bustling street of the academy grounds overwhelmed his senses at first. There were smells of coffee brewing, food cooking, and the sounds of kids laughing, shouting, walking, and running. Evander saw the entire campus overflowing with all the bright young minds it had collected from everywhere in Constantia for the first time.
There were a few clubs on his list that he wanted to check out. He thought of the list in his head, Firebreathers, Blazing Angels, Draconic Order, and the Fauna society. Evander turned to reach his first destination, the Fauna society.
Carmillia Carbonneau was milling about the arboretum. Truth be told, the fauna society was not among the clubs she had been considering joining when she entered Ersand’Enise. There was no real benefit in forming a relationship with Beryl Mundi, the head of the club. While there were at least some nobles and merchants of note amongst the existing members, the same could be said for most societies.
The only reason she was here was solely due to Rody, her recently hatched schluckodill, one of the rewards from the Lorentine Queen. Though she was hardly an animal lover, she had grown attached to the smokey looking lizard. The fact that it would grow to become a giant reptilian, capable of devouring any annoyances was a big plus. Hidden and curled up in her mantle, Rody poked his head out curiously before returning to his hiding spot.
Good boy.
There were a few other first year Biros about and the one that caught her attention was Evander. The House of Synesti was on the rise and Evander was its heir. She cared not that he was Revidian. Patriotism was hardly in her blood. Given the current situation, I might as well make full use of it. Forming a relationship with Evander now might prove useful later. Whilst pretending not to notice him, she intentionally placed herself in his path and waited for him as he approached.
“Oh? Evander Fino Synesti? That’s a surprise. I didn’t think this was the type of club that would appeal to you.”
Evander stopped in place as a well-dressed female student addressed him by his full name. Who was she? If Carmilia had been paying any attention, she would have noticed his confusion in identifying her. Evander did feel as if they had met before, but he could not place his finger on it. In one of their classes, perhaps, then her name struck his brain, Carmilia Carbonneau. They DID have classes together, but their face time was non-existent. What he knew about her was little, but as with everyone he had been meeting on campus, she would be added to a list of people Evander would inquire about to those who had more resources than him, like his father.
Stepping back to gain distance, Evander bowed before her. After all, he was a gentleman, and ladies were to be respected no matter how formal or informal their relationship. Raising his head, he looked into Carmilia’s eyes, unflinching to connect with what was behind them. A smile perched on his face, and he addressed her in return.
“M’lady Carmilia, how nice it is to see you,” Evander spoke with a tone that could only be described as soft and charming. His smooth gentle draw of words continued, “It is not, but seeing as how I am still becoming acquainted with the Academy, I felt it best to check out some of the clubs I would not think to join…to expand my horizon, and you?”
Regardless of how smooth Evander thought his recovery to be, she hadn’t failed to notice his initial hesitance. Unsurprising, given that this was their first conversation. Truth be told, though Evander had been on her radar for a while now, she had been unable to find an appropriate time to speak to the young man. Things had been busy for her as of late, and maintaining the relationships of her existing connections made it difficult for her to make time for him.
“I’m here due to this guy.”
Carmillia tapped gently on her mantle and Rody poked his head out once more. After staring at the Revidian, it let out a soft hiss before scrambling up onto Carmillia’s shoulder. The smokey lizard was staring right at Evander.
”Indigenous to Feska, Rody over here is a hazy schluckodil. A gift of sorts as a reward for a recent escapade. But to expand your horizons, you say? The fauna society seems to be peculiar choice for that.”
Ignoring her first question…for now, Evander’s brows closed in on each other. He was curious, a hazy schluckodil? Never would he guess Carmilia to be a lizard owner, but this was why he came to the Fauna Society…people liked pets and pets tend to nestle in their owner’s sweet spots. It was told to Evander once by his tutor, you can learn a lot about a person by what they decide to keep around them. Animals fell into this category. What better place to learn about those he’d be learning with than where they gather to share, talk, and showcase their vulnerabilities?
Evander spoke after a brief moment of analyzing Rody, “A hazy schlucowhat?” He leaned in slightly to look at the lizard in the eyes, his head tilting to the right, “A reward from a recent escapade, you say; what did you have to do, and who gave Rody to you?”
”He’s a schluckodil,” repeated Carmillia, enunciating it slightly slower this time round. “They’re Feskan crocodiles and their most discerning feature, would be their size.”
As usual, she went on autopilot, explaining what exactly a schluckodil was as well as the rarity of Rody’s colorization. Meanwhile, her thoughts were turning about, her mind was concentrating on analyzing Evander. Twice now, he had avoided her question. He was more focused on gleaming information from her as opposed to revealing anything about himself.
A vigilant personality, perhaps?
It had been awhile since she met a noble who had at least some wits about them. Much like Dorothea, Evander was heir to a noble family aiming for their previous prominence. Unlike Dorothea, he behaved accordingly and appropriately. That meant he followed etiquette and was on guard with his words.
Times up.
Without missing a beat, she continued on the moment she was done with explaining schluckodils.
“To answer your second question, as payment for mediating and appeasing some rowdy individuals, I was given a schluckodil egg. It was not exactly the kind of payment I expected, but I’ve grown quite fond of him.”
Evander had closed the distance between himself and Carmilia as she dove deep into her knowledge about schluckodils. There was a slight fondness Evander felt about Carmilia; maybe it was her demeanor or intellect. She carried on like someone who did her homework. She had mentioned this schluckodil was a gift, a pet given to her, not by choice. Yet, no matter if it was her choice, she learned everything she could about this lizard and even grew a likeness to it. Evander could hear his tutor ring true in his ear, pets nestle close to their owner’s heart.
“Wow,” Evander acted intrigued by her knowledge, “aren’t you both lucky to have found each other.” He was within a step of Carmilia’s bubble, he would not invade her space, but the closeness raised a level of trust and intimacy in their interaction. His side kept his hands easily visible; there would be no question even if distance marginalized, his respect for her as a woman did not.
Evander had noted her mention of the schluckodils size and kept it as a follow-up,“How big will Rody grow?”
“I’d wager over ten meters once he’s matured, though that process will take up to a decade. I must say, Evander, you seem awfully interested in him.”
In truth, Carmillia doubted he had much of any real interest in Rody. Seeing how he was trying to get closer to her while maintaining propriety physically, Evander was simply trying to keep the conversation going. Her magic worked best in conjunction with the target’s current emotions.
She drew in chemical energy from her surroundings. Without a proper source, the minuscule amounts of energy would normally be insufficient for conventional spells, but Carmillia was a special case. Tiny tendrils of undetectable magic whisked themselves into Evander, mildly boosting the production of his positive neurotransmitters. The effect would make him ever so slightly amicable and relaxed.
“I didn’t think you were that interested in being friends, seeing as how you took a second to remember my name,” she continued, smiling charmingly.
She was teasing him at this point.
Ten meters! This thing was going to be huge! Surprise aside, Evander laughed when Carmilia pointed out his interest in Rody. He was curious about schluckdoil, but hearing Carmilia’s appeals about it were more interesting. Evander sensed, as the conversation continued, a subtle feeling of relaxation. There was something about Carmilia that was dropping his guard internally. Evander was not one to let his guard down; counterintuitive to his feeling, he resisted. No matter how sweet her smile may have appeared, there was an intrinsic resistance to this feeling of peace in his gut. The struggle within was not revealed as his talent for acting was par excellence. Instead, he redirected Carmilia’s comment back at her and took this opportunity to make a respectful exit.
“If you did not welcome it so easily yourself,” he smiled back, “maybe I wouldn’t be,” he stepped calmly back and bowed forward, raising to meet her gaze one last time before making his leave, “until next time Miss Carmilia.”
While his demeanor betrayed no change, Evander’s decision to cut the conversation short was enough indication. Even a Zeno would have difficulties noticing her magic, so it was unlikely Evander did. It was far more likely he detected his emotional guard dropping and decided to make a retreat. Whether the same would have happened without her magic, she would not know.
Most of the students had already fallen into their comfort zone two months into their enrollment, but it appeared Evander was a different case.
Carmillia had far easier prey to go for.
A pity.
Evander walked away from the Fauna Society with an odd sense left from his conversation with Carmilia. It was unusual for him to feel calm before a stranger; the further he gained distance from her, the clearer his head became. Evander signed up for the Fauna Society, Blazing Angels, and Firebreathers before returning to his dorms.
That evening…
Evander sat down at his desk to apply ink to the paper.
Dear Papa,
The first few weeks in Ersand’Enise have been an adjustment. Nevertheless, I am adapting as expected. Per your request, I have a list of students I have conversed with thus far. One, in particular, has attracted my attention, and I am unsure why; her name is Carmilia Carbonneau. She approached me in a crowd when heading to one of the societies at the faire I wrote to you about in my last letter. The conversation started cordial. However, when I closed the space between us, there was a subtle change in my attitude toward her. I felt like I was relaxing. Was this how you and mother felt when meeting each other? Or is this something different? It does not elude me that I am attending a school of gifted children, but until now, I felt clear. Maybe you could do what you do best and let me know what you come up with.
Your son’s flame, Evander
Societies Faire: An Ancestral Visit
(Present)
Assani 30th
Location: Oceanborne Booth and Lake Characters: Evander
Eresand’Enise never failed to show its vibrancy, nor did the grounds of the Academy. Today was another beautiful day of faire activities. Evander had awoken earlier than he had the previous day. His thoughts set on checking out the Draconic Order and Speed Demons. Instead of taking a more direct route, Evander decided to gather on the scenic route. He had passed the Oceanborne stand as if slightly interested by its moderate gathering, but he could not find any motivation to stop and check it out. Instead, he continued his path, moving around the lake behind a tree; something caught his eye. Evander stopped, turning his entire body toward it to gain more visual clarity on what it might be. He could not tell what he was looking at and began cautiously approaching.
From where he was approaching, he could not see what was floating behind it, but there was something. His hand reached around the tree to step around. What is this? Evander though. His eyes locked onto a bright white aberration. Evander’s eyes widened, his toes curled, and his heart thumped. He was feeling something different as if being pulled. Without thinking, his finger extended, a hand reached, and Evander touched it…immediately…the white aberration reacted, transforming into a white froabass soaring up and diving down at Evander.
Without warning, it was as if Evander was possessed by pure light. His mind became clear, and he could feel the strength of his ancestors stepping up behind him, emboldening him—every fabric of his being charged alive. As soon as his experience came, it was over. Perplexed, Evander scanned to see if anyone else saw what he did…nothing…people were carrying on their business. Instead of heading straight to the societies, he took his time. He rallied before the lake, signed up with the two clubs, and returned to his dorm.
That evening…
Dear Mama,
I am unsure of what happened today. I was headed to one of the clubs and saw a strange white thing hanging around the park. When I approached it, it pulled me in and I could not stop myself from trying to grab it. As soon as I touched it, the white thing turned into a dragon, flew into the sky, and hit me in the face. I saw beautiful visions, felt our ancestors behind me, and my mind has never been more clear and alert, except after drinking one of your cups of Budesrno coffee. Have you ever experienced what I am talking about?
How are you and Celestina?
Your son’s flame, Evander
Evander meets Carmilia at Fauna Society.
Evander's emotions are manipulated briefly by Carmilia's essence effects.
Evander takes his leave, signs up for the Fauna Society.
Evander writes a letter to his father and asks for information on Carmilia Carbonneau.
Evander eats a white aberration, sees a vision, and feels emboldened by his ancestors.
Evander cannot sleep and writes a letter to his mother to ask her about his experience with the aberration.
Trials and Tribulations I Ersand'Enise Seen & Mentioned: idk a lot
A pounding on the door nearly caused Silas to fall from his bunk: Memories of a birthday surprise the week before still all too fresh. But it was male voices that called out orders to him, and in fluent Avincian.
"Who's there?!" He shouted back as he jumped from his bed, silently cursing himself for spending the night in the dorms at all after the last event.
"Representatives of D.R.A.G.O.N., here to see about the Froabase eggs know to be in your possession." As the man explained himself, a jiggle to the door knob entered the rotation of knocking and shouting. Silas dragged his blanket down with him, billowing it out to cover a fraction of the littered possessions scattered wildly behind the stacked bunks. The lower bed was empty. Always an infuriatingly early riser Desmond had inadvertently abandoned him to an investigation. Unless the Enthish boy had done so on purpose; reported their sale of the egg to let Silas take the blame and be free of any suspicion.
"Right- Give me a moment!" His words came out a discernibly higher pitch than before. Leaping the final paces to the door of the small room, Silas managed to open it just it time to save it a final frame-rattling pounding. A trio of men, dressed in rich materials and decorated with various metals, stood on the other side of the threshold.
"The Froabase eggs. Egg. Right. Of course." He was still wearing his bedclothes; a well tattered and over-sided linen shirt that still bore the memory of the original white colour in some places. "I uh- only have the one." He kicked a few stray items to make a wide enough path for the men to follow him to the egg's resting place in the closet. Even so, one had to remain outside and the other on the opposite side of the room, the space remained so limited.
"And your name?" The representative that had managed to follow Silas closely enough to get a good look at the egg produced a flat board with papers and a pen.
"Silas Reiger." He could feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. There hadn't even been enough time to cover his eyes. The longer the stranger scratched away at his records the more time Silas had to imagine the worst possible outcomes of his predicament and assure himself that Desmond truly had hung him up to dry.
"A standard male Froabase egg. In healthy condition still a few months out from hatching." The writing continued even as he spoke. "Current conditions leave much to be desired but, space is compatible for the needs of nursing one egg should the owner comply with D.R.A.G.O.N. regulations. The owner being Silas Rieger?"
The question was so sudden in such a quick list of information it surprised him. "Yes. I am."
"Upon hatching new accommodations will be needed if you require information or assistance on accommodating a Froabase hatch-ling..."
It took nearly half an hour for the representative to complete his paperwork. Silas handed over payment for the suggested care items with uncharacteristically little reluctance; his eagerness to be rid of the men and their questions outweighing frugality.
"If you will sign here for me please," They were standing at the doorway again, the new purchases having further reduced the standing space inside. Silas hesitated only a moment before taking the fountain pen from the taller man's hand and hastily scribbling a design that could just barely be legible as a name, albeit with one or two letters in the wrong direction.
"One final thing." Just when the end was in sight, the leader turned heel stop the door from fully closing all the way. "This is the only egg in possession at this residence?"
"Only one." Silas agreed, unable to stop his rapid nodding once it had begun.
A final few marks were made on the report, and then there were gone. The relief that came with their departure was great enough that Silas had almost forgotten the faire entirely. Right until horns and cheers bellowed a summons from under his window.
It wasn't Silas' first attendance at the Societies faire. He could remember the past two of his life, and the former had even been during his short time with true sight. They were some of his happiest memories, where residence from the entire city joined to the main streets, spirits full of cheer and purses with coin. The excitement was in part responsible for his later slumber; the thought of being the target for all the festivities was something too grand to even dream about only a few months before. So he'd spent the better part of the night tossing and turning in anticipation until exhaustion took him. It meant the first day was something of a wash; he spent the bulk of it around the table for the Speed Demons, watching the others sign and compete in various ways. Jackson Clark himself made an appearance and showed some over-confident biro's he was legend even among the low-born natives of Ersand'Enise. An unexpected combination of awe and nerves left Silas a observer only.
The society head wasn't the only familiar presence. The short and round frame of Ishto was also milling through the crowd, trying to collect bets from a small group of young spectators. All were welcome in every district during the faire, so there was no need to think twice about why the boy was there. At least until Silas was close enough to be noticed. With a yelp and comedic jump of surprise the boy sprinted out of sight before he could even be addressed. Silas moved to follow but instead was found by Desmond and quickly forgot about the urchin altogether. Their conversation did eventually lead him to the Enchanter's Union, the guild already had his name prepared on their list as a Zenith Scholar; much to his chagrin. But he was in no hurry to reveal the extent of his new-found wealth and so gave his perplexing signature on the required forms before the booth's closing on the first day.
On the second day a song from Ayla and a continued sense of fatigue brought Silas to the fully-stocked and modestly busy Zeno-Bucks. Marci was manning the stand, always easy to identify with her her narrow frame and large floppy hat, and reached over the counter the moment she recognized him.
"Silas! You look awful." Whether it was a facade to draw customers or the contagious energy of the faire, she seemed in high spirits, even while insulting him. "A cup of Virang's finest might just be the cure!"
"Zarina trying to make a business out of her habit?"
That was all the prompting needed for Marci launch into a well-rehearsed sales pitch that eventually lead Silas to buying a cup of the hot drink, and forcing a smile through the bitter taste.
"You're still finding time to join societies? with all this?" He gestured to the grinder, cups, and customers. Their conversation drifted to more casual matters where it was revealed both had been approached late the day before, well after most of the booths had been closed. An invitation to join another, more exclusive club -or so they claimed- located somewhere outside the southern city walls. The two young biro's speculated on the secret group's other possible members and true purpose before the morning rush became to great for Marci to indulge him.
"Bring back the cup!" Were her last words when Silas broke away from the counter a drink later; his second heavily sweetened for a steep price. Barely detectable to his senses, and well out of Marci's view, another figure parted from the surveying customers to follow him across the street.
Silas only spent a scant hour of the morning watching the Speed Demon races before making his was to the unexplored western half of the city, determined to make better use of the second day. In the Cathedral district he found the Draconic Order. Yet another group that already had his name prepared on forms; courtesy of his visitors the day before. Much preferring the idea of seeking advice from his peers than the stuffy D.R.A.G.O.N. members, Silas readily agreed to membership.
It was as he was leaving back towards the main campus that Kaspar caught his attention; beckoning to him from across the main road.
"I don't think that's an aberration." Was Silas' entire contribution when the other boy had shown his discovery. They were in disagreement; their eyes seeing two very different things. Whatever it was, was too active for it to be a proper aberration; reaching out and pulling at the energy around it rather than leeching the other way. Kaspar insisted it looked the same save for colour. Both agreed on the ominous aura it produced.
"We can't just leave it here right?" He sounded wary of the idea, and the feeling was genuine. It didn't help that the closer they approached the stronger the pull became. Kaspar must have felt it too, as with only a nod to communicate, the two began to draw from the strange aberration almost simultaneously.
The dread and hesitation fled Silas' body just as the energy transfer began. Unlike the unpleasantness experienced in the desert, he felt hyper-aware of each passing second, each thought clear and his own. It took another moment to notice the effects were persisting even after the entity was gone.
"I feel.... Great."
He was browsing over the magic societies when the second aberration appeared. There was little hope in him being accepted to any, at least as anything more than a novelty for his viral manatype. Still he couldn't help himself from idling over the Golden Mushroom's displays, however haughty and aloof the members. It was large, and only seemed to be growing in the space in-front of the fountain, almost comforting in its familiarity compared to what he'd previously dealt with.
"Ingrid?" He called out, thinking he recognized the tall girl walking towards him. Running in fact. "Ingrid?" He asked again, in a much less certain tone. She passed him in a matter of steps, clearly reaching for the large void of an aberration behind the society members. It wasn't going to be her first helping of void for the day by the looks of things. With his fellow student deafened by aberration-madness, Silas felt no choice but to join her in pulling from the gaping void of energy, if only to stop her from getting worse. It came easily, and so quickly it sent him staggering; clutching the sides of hid head as he felt his capacity was reached, then strained just as soon as he'd begun. To their benefit, the aberration had dissipated with just as much speed. Still hunched over, and breathing heavily, but feeling mentally stable Silas attempted to address his fellow Biro again:
"Are you-" But Ingrid was already upon him, and using the full brunt of her strength -and near two foot advantage- to send him flying over the Golden Mushroom's table, ruining a good deal of their display and landing Silas squarely into the fountain. That, along with memories of her immense power against the sand wyrm were enough to discourage any further attempts to calm the maddened noble. Besides, his dept to her had already been paid; this was finally an issue for the Zenos to handle.
The rest of the faire passed with surprisingly little drama, irregardless of the half dozen aberration popping into existence throughout the afternoon. Silas found himself again at the Speed Demon booth towards the end of the day, a second Zeno-Buck's cup in hand, and oblivious to his trailing shadow. Deciding he'd had enough anxious teetering, he approached the administrative table. There his name was taken, as was his class schedule and current mana capabilities. For the second time Silas signed his name to the half-lie. After the events of the day who was to say what his capacity was compared to the student record anyway?
His ego wasn't quite so great as the challenge the society head, but a particularly ostentatious noble from his cohort that had already earned his place.
"Not sure how I feel about a challenger lacking in stature, sight, and capacity." He sneered, making a grand show of leaning down to peer at Silas.
"At least state the race before forfeiting then."
"The commons-roof route. I assume you're familiar enough with the place." A small bit of an audience had gathered, and an audible chortle of laughter reached them both.
"Could do it with my eyes closed." Silas agreed with half a smile, tapping his blindfold.
The long walk to the common dorms left more time for the initially small following to grow to something rather sizeable. Silas' nerves grew in tandem and he found himself focusing his senses on individuals in the group. He was suddenly certain something was wrong. Logic told him it was only his own anxiety- as unwarranted and unnecessary as his fears the morning before. When they made it to the rooftops, the surprise and excitement of Jackson Clark standing with them to observe the race was enough to supersede his worries.
In fairness, there was no way for his opponent to know exactly how familiar with Clark's famous route Silas was. There hadn't been a need to disclose the fact that he'd witnessed being done first hand four years before, or that it had been part of his self-study in using his false-sight and gift to maneuver throughout the city. As it was, it didn't take long for his opponent to drop out of sensory range, and Silas' confidence began to grow with each pounding heartbeat. The first notable leap on the path was between the Castle and it's shorter neighboring building. The gap was just wide enough to require a slight use of the Gift to cross. Eager to make a show, Silas drew and released much more than needed, lauching himself a good twelve feet in the air. Except, his decent began too soon. Something had drawn at his forward moving momentum. Someone. Still em-poured with enough drawing speed from the white aberration, Silas expelled enough force energy to catch himself on the roof's ledge. The figure responsible remained above on the Castle as Silas struggled to right himself. It wasn't his competitor, and yet the shape of the meddler rang strangely familiar.
Not wanting to waste time dwelling on potential cheating, Silas kept to a more basic route, free of any obstacles that required the Gift, until the final wall directly bellow the dorms' highest point, and finish line. He hesitated, but ultimately employed his kinetic magic to keep his hands and feet firmly against the wall as he climbed the vertical surface. No other magic touched him until mere feet from the summit. The static force he poured into each of his limbs to remain stable in his precarious position began being gently pulled from. His hands were the first to slip, making his head lead the proceeding plummet downward. He drew from the momentum- desperate to catch his fall- only to realize it was more than gravity working against him; whoever had caused the fall was pushing him towards the ground.
A sudden force in the opposite direction winded Silas, but knocked him out of his accelerated fall towards the wall again, where he was able to catch himself and make out his rescuer. The noble he'd challenged had caught up, and in a convincingly shocked state.
"What the hell? Who-?" Silas didn't wait around to hear the rest of the thought. Instead he fled, trusting the other's arrival enough of a distraction to allow for his escape unharmed. It was a longer route without scaling the wall, but it didn't require putting himself at the same risk. There had been no doubt that time; someone was trying to kill him. The crowd that had remained long enough to see the result of the event erupted into cheers as Silas crossed the starting point again. Only he didn't stop, not when the administrator called out to him, or even as Clark reached for his hand. Silas continued running with increased speed until he reached the same ledge he'd first felt the mysterious mage's interference. This time he slid down the wall, already feeling intrusive magic pulling at his own created friction. He fell through the first open window he found. An unfamiliar room, with a stranger shouting obscenities at him inside. The window slammed shut with enough force cause an unsettling creak from it's poorly-aged frame. His own room was mercifully close by, and in the same building. He retired there for the rest of the evening; fearing to return to his Zeno's rooms until late nightfall.
- D.R.A.G.O.N. Reps are dealt with - Silas joins clubs listed bellow - Someone is tailing him throughout the faire - Silas gets chased down by a familiar face while trying out for the Speed Demons. - Silas has lost 2 zeno bucks cups.
Guild: Enchanter's Union Clubs: Draconic Order, Little RAScals, Rat Bastards, Speed Demons
This damned headache, why’d I even take that aberration? And what was going on with Ingrid that day too? Was it the same as I had? well whatever it may have been I’m just relieved I could stop her before something regrettable could happen.
A walk did help get her thoughts together some. Although the main part of the faire has completely slipped her mind, The societies. The perfect opportunity to make connections for later in her life.
Her first stop was the Drudgunzean union, it was the most obvious society to join if she wanted to make friends close by. It may also be a good way to keep an eye on Manny as they haven’t been speaking much lately.
After walking some more, her nose picked up the smell of something great being made. Ah, the pumpernickels must be busy. It might be a stretch to call herself great at baking but it might be fun to join and learn some new recipes and tricks to the craft.
Seeing the Mage Hunter Society flared up her excitement as a recreational shooter, although the voice of her mother rang through her mind as she signed up for it. ‘Joining such a boorish club? Did I raise a man by accident? I can’t believe my own flesh and blood could be such a disappointment of a lady.’ As that damned voice didn’t stop, the Feskan rushed out, trying her hardest to find more lady-like societies.
After a while she stumbled upon the Needle & Thread club. ‘See, that is a society more suited for my daughter. I can finally say that I’m proud.’ She quickly signed up as the voice in her head started to calm.
After that exhausting experience she strutted towards the guilds and signed herself into the society of the Gift. Her hand was still grasping a written signing paper that will find its way to the society that it was meant for.
Guild: Society of the Gift Societies: Drudgunzean Union, Pumpernickel, Mage Hunters, Needle & Thread, Egalite Fraternite
A few days have passed since the second day of the fair and Ingrid has not made any progress in much other than her schoolwork. She hasn’t apologized to Dorothea or Manfred for trying to kill them when she went aberration mad. Ingrid would like to say she was anguished over what she had done to Dorothea but in all honesty, she was more caught up in trying to process the event as a whole. What happened with Dorothea was just part of that. But soon guilt outweighed the other issues on her mind and she wanted to make amends with Dorothea.
Ingrid didn’t want to admit it but she worried if making amends were even possible. Most people can’t simply forgive someone coming for their life, especially nobles. Even Ingrid doesn’t know if she would be capable. Ingrid pessimistically thought that the best would be that they would at least work together at the trials but that would be the extent of their relationship.
She had brought over some wine and the normal paraphernalia. Along with some spratz and snacks to replace what she used last time she was over, not being sure anymore that her using Dorothea’s own was okay anymore. Ingrid brightened herself up to try not to earn sympathy. She wanted them to speak equally, and with that, she knocked on Dorothea’s door.
“Coming!” Dorothea opened the door with a bright smile before looking at the person standing in front of her. Her smile disappeared into a bit of a straight face as she was somewhat confused for the appearance of the Eskandr girl. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”
Dorothea changing mood at the sight of Ingrid gave her valuable insight into how this might go. Ingrid gulped, “Hello Dorothea, I wanted to know if you wanted to talk. I brought some wine and snacks,” Ingrid presented the fine bottle of wine. A sweet one at that.
Dorothea let out a somewhat heavy sigh before pointing towards her room. “Come in. I will keep the bottle even if this won’t lead anywhere.” She walked back into her own room before looking back at Ingrid. “Be sure to close the door.”
Okay, you are through the door Ingrid, that is a good start, Ingrid thought then smiled when Dorothea turned. Ingrid shut the door behind them and followed Dorothea. Ingrid had been in here not too long ago yet somehow it seems slightly alien now that their relationship had been strained or cut. She set the bottle down and waited to see what Dorothea wanted to say first.
Dory would look at the bottle before crossing her arms and looking Ingrid into her eyes with a soul piercing stare. “What did you want to talk about then? Better make this good, miss fireball” Dorothea might try and get the true intentions out or she is just still bitter from the faire.
Her stare was quite intense and it was effective at the moment with how Ingrid currently felt. Ingrid took a breath out and tried to maintain eye contact, “I wanted to apologize Dorothea. I know I put you in harm's way but I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Ingrid tried to continue eye contact but she was facing someone that she hurt and it was becoming growingly difficult
Dorothea couldn’t help but sneer at the apology. “Didn’t mean to hurt me? Then what do you call that blazing inferno heading towards me? A nice ball to warm me up?” There wasn’t a moment that she lost eye contact with the other as she walked towards her.
Ingrid had secretly hoped that Dorothea would be more forgiving but it made sense. “I know that you have every reason to be upset but I wasn’t myself. I was momentarily insane” Ingrid stepped back as Dorothea got closer. Ingrid was nervous and started to panic but kept it tightly wrapped up.
No words phased the Feskan any longer as she just kept on slowly walking toward Ingrid. Those eyes almost seem to be hate filled. “So many words and I have yet to hear what you want to say to me.” Now practically leaning against the taller woman with intent for violence. “Say it!”
Ingrid had rarely been hit outside of sparring but she was growing from nervous to fearful. Ingrid was up against the wall now with Dory still approaching. Ingrid let out one last, “I came here to apologize!” Ingrid held her arms up to protect herself, believing Dory would assault her because that was the reason she came and she already said it.
With a sigh, Dorothea lunged her fist into the other’s gut. “For someone so smart... You’re an idiot..” As the fist was still making contact Ingrid could feel the Feskan shaking. “Such a damned idiot sometimes..” Dory walked away towards her bed. “A simple sorry would’ve been enough..”
Ingrid had been hit in the stomach and it hurt. She didn’t want to fight back, not yet. As Dorothea moved away, Ingrid stayed where she was, no longer making eye contact anymore. Ingrid looked towards the door, wondering if she should leave and it didn’t take long for her to decide. Ingrid gave a slight bow, “Thank you for hearing my apology… I’ll be on my way.” Ingrid started to leave for the door.
Dorothea in a moment of panic threw her cloak towards the Eskand woman. “Don’t you dare leave!... You have to pay me back for burning my cloak.” a heavy voice rang through the room. “Listen here, I just want you to say one damn word. Are you that noble to say it to me plainly?” Dorothea asked with an anguished look. Why did she have to be so damn formal? They are friends, right?
Ingrid overreacted to the coat being tossed at her and smacked it to the side. She was just trying to leave. Dorothea was getting more and more aggressive and if this continued then they would actually have to fight. Ingrid tried to keep her voice steady but it was a pitiful attempt at best with her voice getting quieter, “If you want me to pay you back for the coat, I will. If you want me to pay you back for the spratz I used, I will. But I don’t know what else you want. I apologized, I brought a gift, I even let you berate and hit me but if none of that can satisfy you then I don’t know.” her voice was trembly, with just a small drop of anger in it.
"I don't care about the monetary part of it all! Paying me back is by just being here! I want to see you smile, you imbecile!" Dory's facade couldn't withstand Ingrid's trembling voice. Did she go too far? "Ingrid… I knew you were under the influence of Aberration madness… I.. know what it's like… I was never mad at you for that… because it was my choice to try to restrain a girl way out of my league." A little chuckle came from the Feskan. "You would've gotten me good if not for Manfred saving me." She knew she was starting to wander off with her words and sighed. "My dearest friend. Don't be fancy with your words, just say sorry once and I will give you something for that punch."
Ingrid was still fearful but she was calming with Dorothea easing her beratement. “Sorry, Dorothea,” her voice was distant still, from either how Dorothea got so enraged by a proper apology to the fact she had struck her. Still, she put these feelings away. Ingrid just stood there waiting for whatever Dorothea was going to say next.
Dorothea sneakily stood back up. “Then close your eyes, otherwise I can’t give you the thing!” She said in a fake angered voice as she walked towards the Eskand woman. Her regret from her act might have taken quite the toll on her.
Ingrid was not yet trusting of Dory but she still closed her eyes because she wanted to leave and playing along was hopefully the best way of doing that.
After a few more footsteps Ingrid could feel a couple of arms coming around their waist. “I’m sorry for hitting you… I did not mean to hurt you..”
Ingrid thought that a hug may have been coming knowing how Dorothea can be, and it wasn’t welcomed at the time. It was like a child profusely apologizing after doing something wrong but Ingrid knew rejecting Dorothea’s apology would only sour their relationship further. Ingrid embraced Dorothea, saying “It’s alright, I should have came by earlier” in a much warmer tone with some unsteadiness in the background to give it a more natural feel.
“I was the one that should be sorry. I tried to restrain you.” She truly did not know what to do any longer but losing Ingrid as a friend was not something she could take. “I know I acted out. But you’re the only person that has even tried to put up with someone like me.” Her voice couldn’t help but become somewhat shaky.
Ingrid was somewhat confused, maybe the intense emotions have gotten to her but she just feels out of it. Dorothea needed comforting and Manfred, her supposed boyfriend, never seemed to be around to do so. I know that Dorothea can be a little much but that doesn’t mean you only date when the time are good. But what do I know, I’m not privy to their relationship status, Ingrid thought this as she decided it was time for action.
“Up we go,” Ingrid said as she lifted Dorothea and then carried her to the bed. Ingrid laid her down gently, “Dorothea I thank you for trying to stop me. Without your assistance, I would have maimed or even killed someone.” Ingrid laid next to her, still facing her, “And your not someone I put up with, your someone I enjoy. You think you would still have all your teeth if I didn’t?”
“Well, then at least I almost died for something.” Dorothea snorted as she didn’t let go of Ingrid, somewhat nuzzling in their frame. “You really know how to make me feel better, huh? I rather like keeping my teeth after all. But I do not think that I would’ve only lost my teeth if you really did not like me.” A somewhat teasing poke into the side of the Eskand woman. “I think I would be ash by that point, miss prodigy.”
Ingrid held onto the Feskan girl, letting Dorothea rest on Ingrid if she wished, “I don’t think I am that much of a prodigy, Maybe in RAS but their was so many things I realised that I cannot do.” Ingrid seemed reserved is speech before continuing, “Maybe things I shouldn’t try to do. We are young Dorothea, we have so much to do and learn.” Ingrid said it like she was suddenly an old person. “Anyway,” Ingird moved her hand up to Dorothea’s face, “Did I leave any marks on you?”
Dorothea smiled warmly. “Only a couple light burn marks. My cloak took most of the burn.” She looked the other in the eyes. “Yes but Ingrid.. You have so much that you can do in the future. You might even be able to rule over your home Eskand!”Dory was thinking big like usual before going back on her words. “Or maybe become like a great atomic mage.”
Ingrid caressed her cheek and smiled with relief, “Thank Oraff that pretty face was saved or Ipte would have sent me to hell.” Ingrid seemed wrapped in thought before speaking, “I would like to say that I would settle for just a simple life with a few loved ones but I tend to find my greed pushing me forward. Maybe thinking big wasn’t that bad,” Ingrid said before asking Dory her goals, “What of you Dory, do you plan on taking over Feska?”
"Pretty face? I don't think I look all that nice for a noble." She could barely contain her glee from such a comment. "Greed is a good way to push yourself forward. Think big, dream big!" Dory's smile faded as she heard the question. "I just want my people to live better lives…"
Ingrid chuckled, You’re easy to read Dory, Ingrid thought. It wasn’t a bad thing, not here at least. Ingrid could sympathize with Dory, “That is indeed a big goal. Quite an ambitious one too.” Ingrid wasn’t sure what to say. Dory was usually so meek that Ingrid didn’t believe that the current her could lead a country in the future. But Dory had also done a kindness to Ingrid, even if it was rocky and a tad violent. So she pulled Dory in closer and sighed, “An ambition like that needs allies to achieve it, so let me just say that as a friend I will be there when you call.” Ingrid was quite embarrassed, blushing even. Dory had her flaws but they were on display, she even could open up at times when Ingrid had desperately hid herself. She had a strength that Ingrid didn’t, she just needed to mature in Ingrid’s mind.
“Allies?...” Dory’s voice was wavering somewhat at the thought of it. Until now she has thought she was all alone in her goal, never involving others as she thought nobody would take her seriously. After thinking about it a bit, she couldn’t help but snort. “I didn’t think the trade heavy Penderson’s would help me ruin the trade balance in the whole southern continent.” Dorothea pulled herself closer as the other pulled her closer. “But thank you… I really needed to hear that.”
Trying to assuage Dory of the uncertainty, “My family deals more in ores, metals, and gems than we deal in luxury goods such as spratz.” Dory and Ingrid were very close, like physically. It was a bit intimate for Ingrid’s liking if she wasn’t going to do anything else. “Besides,” Ingrid said, “I’m learning that not everything needs to be purely profitable.”
“Not everything needs to be profitable? What do you mean?” The mercantile mind of the Feskan tried to comprehend the comment her friend just said. Not profitable? How would that be a good thing? “Well, if I rule Feska I can involve your family more in the trade of Spratz.”
“What do you think this is?” Ingrid asked sarcastically, “I could be friends with you without having to be here for you. But I want to. You can say that this is networking but I don’t see it as that” Ingrid was a bit more blushed, “I’m here with a friend, intimately cuddling her for no other reason than because I want to.”
“Because you want to? So you don’t want anything from me?...” This truly is the first time she heard something like that. “So you aren’t going to use me for my claims or name?....” She clung onto Ingrid like a scared child, seems like she really had to mature in some places.
Ingrid could see Dory had been taken advantage of like most noble girls. She put her head to Dory’s, “Let me state this one final time. I am and have never been here for your name or for your claim. I see you as a friend.” Ingrid was making eye contact, pulling just inches from her face, “So do not doubt that Dory.”
It was still somewhat hard to believe her words but since Ingrid was her best friend and if she does not try to believe her… who would she believe? "Then I will try my best to believe you… I'm sorry if I'm still a bit doubtful…"
“Thank you,” Ingrid replied sincerely. “I know how hard it can be to trust. Besides, I can’t be the only one you trust, you are dating Manfred,” Ingrid was trying to hide that she was interested in their relationship. The why was a question though.
"Well, I trust Manfred… but I do not know if I'm ready yet to tell him everything.." She smiled brightly at Ingrid. "That's why I have you! I can tell you everything!"
Ingrid smiled, “Of course.” Ingrid felt an internal oof and moved on. Ingrid continued to talk to her about all the random things.
"You really are the best, you know?" She couldn't help but laugh. "If Manfred did not need me so much… I think I would have completely fallen for you." She tightened her grip. "Just don't tell anyone else I said that, okay?"
Ingrid kept that outward smile and thought on the inside, Oh god Dory, why do you tempt me so? Ingrid raised an eyebrow, “Are your people not that accepting of a woman loving another woman?” Ingrid was curious.
Dorothea would look somewhat annoyed, "My mother would kill me if I would love a woman. She doesn't even consider Manfred as a partner as she thinks he is just a poor duke… Stupid Mutti.."
“I see… My family is a bit more accepting. As long as I produce a child, then I may love as I please.” Ingrid kinda smirked, “You could love whoever you want if you took over your family quickly.” It was a genuine suggestion as Ingris was secretly plotting the same.
"Take over my family?... But I'd have to kill my father for that. I do not know if I can do such a thing…" Dory looked somewhat conflicted about what all of this would mean. "Will you take over your family?"
Ingrid put away the topic of killing Dory’s father for now, “I thought about that. I made nice with the Segonia queen and have favor from her, one seen by a Parrench princess,” Ingrid meant to brag a little because it was cool, “I thought I would just ask for land and establish myself as a lowly merchant if it meant escaping my family but I realized something.” Ingrid looked a bit more seriously, “I might be able to do it. Take over my family and control it.” Ingrid looked at Dory again for another intimate moment, “Would you taking over for your family be better for your people?”
"Segonia? Where was that place again?" Dory wasn't too well known with the other side of the world. "But to have a piece of land there… That might have something profitable. You might want to keep it just in case." Dory's tone became hesitant "I do not know if it would… make it better."
Ingrid asked quickly, “Then what do your people need to live better lives?” Ingrid assumed that removing her father from the picture would be a suitable solution to both but obviously, it’s not. Admittedly, Ingrid was ignorant in regard to most politics of smaller nations.
"Remove the other families from power. My father has barely the political power to do anything. Our family is practically just a show dog." Dorothea smirked with a bit of annoyance. "If not for us Feska wouldn't even exist… yet… yet… we are nothing anymore..."
Ingrid wasn’t quite sure what they lost, “What did your family lose to become the show dogs of Feska?” Seemed like this was a sensitive subject for Dory, and Ingrid wanted to respect that but she couldn’t be very useful if she was unsure of what was going on.
"Everything. Most of our land was taken. Most of my family was executed. Do you know how many people there are from my 'house'? You can count them on your hands." Her face grew darker as she retold her family history.
Surprise was all that Ingrid could muster but she held on as it seemed Dory needed it. “That is quite tragic Dory,” Ingrid said sympathetically, “how about removing a threat to your family one at a time? There has to be a noble who keeps watch of you if they didn’t remove you outright.”
"There are five ruling houses in Feska. Although currently only one has true power and the others nothing more than leashed hounds." Dory snarled at the thought. "They get what they deserve." Her mind was a bit lost before answering. "No… if we would take one piece out the others would go crazy.. we need to hit them all at once.."
The more Dory spoke the more Ingrid questioned if this was simply her being pessimistic or her having carefully weighed the situation and came to a decision. Still, there was always a way, “How about you start by planting informants in their domains? And gather information from there?” This was the best thing to do if they truly needed to take over all of it at once.
"Informants?... What do you mean?" The one thing Dory never considered as someone that always tried to play fair. "Why Would I have spies in there?"
“Because no one in power openly flaunts their weakness. And everyone has something to get them to act in your favor.” Ingrid put a hand on her cheek, “Battle is won by any means, and through information, you gain ways that they have to figure out to defend against. Information is the weapon of the clever. You have neither the power nor wealth to make moves against them. So you much use information.” Ingrid wasn’t a battle specialist but her family made her well aware that even with power you cannot always win. Maybe if Ingrid had been smarter, wiser then she could have outcompeted her cousins.
"By any means?.. So would involving you be another of those means?" Oh Dory, ignorant Dory. To think she never tried a thing like that would be most absurd for most schemers. Perhaps she wasn't made to be the most sneaky of people. "But if I rule Feska. Will you be with me? I need someone by my side after all."
Ingrid went blushed, “Who knows, maybe by that time I will be ruling Eskand or something…” Ingrid was trying to calm herself, Remeber Ingrid, she is dating someone. Don’t be an asshole. She is just accidentally teasing you…I think Ingrid bumped their heads together, “If I can be there to help, I will.”
Dory smirked smugly. "Well if you rule Eskand and I fail. I guess I could live with being one of the great queen's concubines." She poked the other's nose with her own. "But I am determined not to fail! I shall see my country freed to my breath."
Ingrid needed a drink. Dory’s teasing was a lot and hopefully breaking for a drink would be helpful. Ingrid sat up and asked Dory still laying in bed, “Would you like a drink?”
"A drink would be nice. Perhaps it would help ease the previous tensions between us." Dory smiled warmly. Not even knowing what it all might mean. "What kind of wine did you bring with?"
Ingrid smiled as she brought over the bottle with liquid telekinesis to test herself, “I know you like things sweet so I brought over a honey wine.” Ingrid popped the cork off as she poured 2 glasses of it, chilling it slightly to what would be the ambient temperature she remembered from Eskand. “To friendship,” Ingrid raised her glass to toast with Dory.
"Oooh, I didn't know about honey wine. We usually ferment spratz and turn that into wine. Oh, I could ask father to import that with the next batch if you'd like to try it!" It seems the opening of a bottle of alcohol has gotten the girl to speak her mind on the subject. "To friendship!" Dory clang her glass against the other and took a sip. "You know Ingrid, this wine isn't so bad."
Ingrid took a sip, “I like it a lot but that is probably because I grew up with it. That spratz wine sounds interesting, I would love to try it with you.”
The 2 girls continued to drink wine together, jumping from topic to topic. Sometimes it would be more serious and they would comfort each other, other times it was just light-hearted ramblings of 2 intoxicated nobles. Either way, both needed this comfort they found in each other, 1 more than the other. And the night ended with them sleeping together with an empty bottle between them.
In the early morning, Ingrid had to leave to join Zarra and Desmond to continue their exercise routine. Ingrid found it difficult to get out of bed with a Dory grasping her. But Ingrid’s work ethic got her up. Barely managing to slip out without disturbing Dory. Ingrid wrote a note and set the empty bottle on top.
Dear Dory,
As much as I wished to have stayed with you until you awakened, I sadly have to work off the wine bottle we drink together. I hope the hangover isn’t too terrible for you, it fucking hurts already for me. I’ll be seeing you in Arcane class friend.
Ingrid made her way out of the room and was mostly lying about the hangover. What was hurting her head was if they got too intimate and the guilt that comes with that. She is only glad that she doesn’t ever talk to that boyfriend of hers.
Place: Carmillia's Dorm Time: The Past: Orredes, Assani 13, Dami-Zept 54, 3:03 HI
Even for someone like Carmillia, going without sleep for two nights was starting to take its toll. The past two days had been eventful. Twenty-five students who had passed his test had been summoned into the Paradigm's study. Right after, Hugo split them into teams and casually used temporal magic to dispatch them to their assigned missions. The Lorentine Queen had ended within that night itself, late into the hours of Shune. Though some others in her team had taken the day off, Carmillia herself had gone about her lessons as usual. The rest of Pandes was spent socializing and assembling the rest of the hand.
Which meant it was only now, in the wee hours of the morning, that she was finally alone. It would be prudent to get an hour or two of rest, enough to power her through Lepdes but there was one last matter to attend to.
Sitting upon her nightstand was a tome. It was one of items, amongst several others that Hugo had retrieved from the Lorentine Queen on his accord. Which meant our mission was entirely a farce, that old fart could have retrieved the Lyre on his own. The haul consisted of three chests; two containing freshly-harvested spratz and the other containing gold, five schluckodil eggs, an exquisite-looking and bejeweled wand, a strange map in a waterproof tube, a box of Kerremen watches and lastly, an old and leather-bound tome.
Truth be told, Carmillia's interest in the items had centered around the chest of gold. However, Hugo had other plans in mind and had chosen to divide its contents amongst them. Manfred had abstained for some reason, the Kerreman had been throwing a fit ever since what happened to Dorothea. Even after the mission and back in Hugo's study, he was still staring daggers at her. Not that Carmillia minded, as there were more spoils for her. That meant the remaining five of them each received an egg each as well. Out of the remaining items, Carmillia had almost requested for the wand when Zarra single-handedly began making a huge commotion about the demonic looking tome and how it was a perfect fit for him.
It had been tempting to challenge him for the book as a petty revenge for the trouble he had caused her aboard the casino. Her fractured relationship with Dorothea and Manfred's anger at her were largely a result of his chaotic actions. But Carmillia was not the type of irrational individual that would do so for such an inconsequential reason. Much to Zarra's dismay, she had called for the book only due to the fact that it had called for her.
The tome had laid untouched in her dorm, but it was now time to unravel its secrets.
Now, what exactly do you contain, little grimoire?
As if sensing her thoughts, it began emitting a shadowy and ethereal glow. It was a new reaction, something it had not revealed itself capable of doing back in the study. Carmillia wagered if Zarra knew the book was capable of this, he would be kicking up an even bigger fuss. The very thought made her smile in glee. In response to that, the tome now began pulsing.
"Impatient, are we?" said Carmillia.
Taking risks was folly but a life spent avoiding them was tantamount to insanity. She had ignored the aberration back in Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight's townhome because the risk hadn't been worth the reward. Her instincts were roaring at her that this was not the case here. She reached out and grabbed the tome.
The backlash was immediate.
Malevolence.
Though she had discerned sentience in the tome, no, grimoire when it had first called for her, that faint sensation was unlike anything she was currently experiencing. What dwelled within the book was a being of unfathomable power and malice, to the extent that even Carmillia felt repulsed. Despite her attempts, she found herself unable to let go of the ancient book.
ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔞 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔟𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔲.
Though the word weren't spoken out loud, she heard the whisper clear as day. And just as she did, flashes of imagery and knowledge seared themselves into her mind. Pain. She was subjected to pain far beyond anything she believed possible. It was as if her brain had been forcefully ripped apart and meticulously put back together, albeit with additional parts. In that split second, she developed a sparse but unmistakable understanding of what dark magic was, and the being that had given her that knowledge.
She felt her knees buckle but she held strong, her pride refusing to let her kneel. Her entire body shivered with weariness.
"...Belthagor," said Carmillia, after a brief pause.
Carmillia was not one to miss significance in words. Gifts. Plural. She immediately braced herself, and she was right to do so. While it was several magnitudes less than the previous assault, more knowledge was smashed into her very being. This time, she refused to even twitch.
If what Belthagor had engraved into her mind prior was a foundational understanding of the concept of dark magic, what had just came was a level higher; the skill and knowledge to cast five elementary spells of the school. As if to test her new-found powers, she raised her remaining empty hand and fired a bolt of dark energy towards a stool on the opposite end of the room. The bolt sizzled out of reality midway but not before taking nearly half the stool with it.
There had been no impact. No explosion. Instead, part of the stool had simply been erased from existence.
She stared at it in amazement. Though her skill with it was mediocre at best, she had just drawn more energy that she had ever used for any singular spell and in an instant. The results of the dark bolt were also terrifying.
The imagery of an advanced spell flickered in her mind. It was a spell on the level of the Paradigm himself. The possibilities of such a spell were limitless. She could spy on whomever she wished, steal whatever she desired. In a way, it even granted her invulnerability.
"And if I lose?"
ℑ 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔨𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔤𝔦𝔣𝔱.
Tomfoolery. This was not a gamble by any means. Her understanding of Belthagor told her how much the creature valued its words. Revoking his last gift meant she would lose the knowledge of the five spells he had given her. But that was it; Carmillia was not barred from relearning them on her own. Carmillia lacked in the RAS department, but her aptitude for learning magic was prodigous. This was by no means a heavy penalty. But the spell he was offering? It was at a level that could take her years even if she dedicated herself fully to the task.
"I accept. Begin the game."
She could see a twenty sided die in her mind's eye. Though the numerals that laid on its faces were of a language she did not recognize, she knew their meanings.
The shadowy die began rotating, increasing the speed of its revolutions till it become a blur before abruptly stopping. Nine. Though Carmillia was unaware of how much she was required to roll for, a number that dwelled in the middle didn't bode well.
The book becomes frigid to the touch. Sound deadens and lights flicker. For a moment, the world wavers and something else peers through the translucent fabric of reality.
The die began spinning once more. Belthagor had not requested of her choice in the matter this time. Fortunately for her, it stopped on a larger number, seventeen.
Four spells would be returned to her. One would have to be forfeited. This was Belthagor's mercy.
Place: The Student Faire Time: The Present: Lepdes, Assani 29, Dami-Zept 54, 1:07 HE
Her application to The Fauna Society would likely go without a hitch. Beryl Mundi had excitedly chatted about Rody. Schluckodils were a rare sight in Ersand'Enise and she was pleased to have one added to their society's registry. Carmillia duly noted that unlike Evander, Beryl had abstained from asking Carmillia how she had come upon him. An implication that many of the exotic creatures that were shown in the faire were obtained by shady means. There was perhaps a business oppurtunity after all.
The Fauna Society was the only selection that deviated from her original plans.
Carmillia had quickly dropped by The Gamers Union. Originally, she had deemed it necessary to join at least one 'surface' club in order to maintain appearances. Now, those clubs numbered two, including The Fauna Society. The Gamers Union was a logical enough choice, it was large club known to all and there were plenty of opportunities to be harvested. Though it was kept hush, given that many of its members possessed economic clout, it was no surprise that rumors of an illegal gambling ring existing spread. It was two birds with one stone.
Jonas Hahn, the current head of The Gamers Union was manning the booth. Through a combination of her inconspicuous magic and distractions with her silver tongue, she ended Jonas' 15-0 streak in chess, begrudgingly earning his respect as well as five incantors. However, Carmillia wagered if a rematch were to occur on equal standings, she'd lose nine out of ten times. The alumni was irritatingly capable at chess.
Her victory had resulted in an awkward silence from the surrounding crowd but Jonas had quickly rebounded from his dismay and turned it into a celebratory occasion. He was pleased that talented new member was entering the fray.
The two remaining clubs she aimed for were the underground ones: Faceless and Rat Bastards. It was necessary that she entered them under a secret identity, less the backlash affected her public appearance. Faceless had been the more difficult of the two to gain access to. Through his own efforts, Bernhard had finally managed to find a seller willing to sell his invite, though at an exorbitant price. If not for the gold bar given to her by Hugo, she wouldn't have been able to afford it with the current funds she had brought to Ersand'Enise.
The Rat Bastards on the other hand, was a whole other story. As long as you could prove it, any bastard or orphan was allowed to join. Even if you weren't one, you could buy your way in. But the latter method came with its own disadvantages. The camaraderie that existed within The Rat Bastards wasn't extended to such people, not at the same level. It turns out that bastards and orphans are a scrutinous bunch. Bribes to administration had to be paid for Carmillia to meticulously create a false identity believable enough for her to be accepted. Elena Albiso, codename: The Muscle. The codename assigned to her irked her.
The Muscle, really? Eshiran damned bastards.
Guild: Magicians’ Guild Clubs: The Fauna Society, The Gamers Union, Rat Bastards, Faceless
Greedy King's School of Enchantment, Ucyaz, Khagan
“Remember, guys, nobody expects a thing out of us. They think we’re just a bunch of weird kids from a faraway place, but…” Ahrora paused. She had somehow been elected leader of this group and was in the midst of plowing through this speech. “Um… remember, the blood of the great khans flows through our veins. Let them underestimate us, and it’ll be that much easier for us to come up from behind and kick ‘em in the nuts!”
“Inspiring, Babayeva. I am inspired,” replied a tall, lanky boy with an odd hat. His sarcastic claps carried in the small classroom that Good Guy Team the Band of Heroes had taken over as their waiting point.
“Shut up, Dildor. I’d like to see you come up and deliver a speech without any preparation in front of a crowd.”
“It’s four people…”
“And Zeno Niyazov!” Bohrom chimed in. “I, for one, was inspired. We’re blood of the khans, guys.”
“He’s not here, though,” observed To’fon, gaze darting to something behind his fearless leader’s shoulder.
“Is anyone going to tell her?” murmured Yo’ldoshoy in a quiet voice, big dark eyes searching the others and wandering anxiously to that same spot over Ahrora’s left shoulder: her blind side.
“Um, Ahrora - ” began Bohrom.
“Patch, the Arch-Zeno’s behind you," Dildor cut in with subtle glee.
She turned on the spot and her eye widened. Arch-Zeno Nakamura smiled and waved. “I am not many good at your language,” he admitted, in broken Kaganese, “Kick them in nuts… this be a charming local…” he trailed off, unable to find the word. “jukugo of you’s?” he substituted.
“Uh, hehe. Yes!” Ahrora replied, bowing furiously. “Yes, it is!”
To’fon raised his palm to his face. Yoldy pursed her lips and tried not to laugh. Dildor adjusted his hat vigorously, and Bohrom just looked stricken. “Well, I am happy to learn this,” the Arch-Zeno decided, “and shall be sure of use it. Now, you need come with me. We go meet other teams.”
“Hai, Arch-zeno Nakamura!” Hastily, they gathered their packs and jogged after him into the common room. The Nikanese’s robes obscured how fast it was that he walked, and his long black hair was tied into a sort of topknot. He carried multiple swords, but they all knew him for a friendly face and surprisingly informal authority figure. He almost always seemed to be either eating or at least carrying an apple. Then, he waved them goodbye and promised to return in twenty minutes. There was a sudden immense intake of power and then a portal of swirling energy opened up before him. In a flash, the Arch-zeno was gone. They gathered in the Hall of Stallions, where the last khan’s armour was mounted and where the head Zeno often gave her addresses from. Zeno Niyazov was waiting for them and he quietly motioned them over. The other four teams were already there, and Alibek’s group - who he’d called the ‘Great Dragons of Dread’ in Avincian - stood a little straighter. ‘Band of Heroes’, her own team’s name, sounded better anyways. The ‘Heroes’ formed up behind their zeno and proceeded to listen to another one of Head Zeno Umarova’s endlessly droning speeches. She was so old that they often whispered that she spoke so often of the khans because she had personally known them.
In truth, as the old woman spoke, Ahrora’s mind and eye alike wandered. Gods, her Avincian was terrible. She’d been working hard to learn it over the past few months, but it just wasn’t enough time to sound competent. Ersand’Enise was supposed to be a massive place: big as a Vossoriyan city, but with a myriad of different peoples, languages, and religions and dedicated solely to the arts of magic. She thought of her cousins and of the Stray Cats who she’d run with for years in the capital: the petty theft, the scrabbling for food, when the guards had held her down and put her eye out for being a thieves’ lookout. She was a small person and this was so much bigger than her: a bigger place, purpose, and challenge. I'll just be some provincial nobody, she thought. I'll - Bohrom’s fingers reached out for hers and she let him take her hand. She smiled at him through the corner of her eye. “Thank you,” she mouthed. She had always risen to life’s challenges, and would once more. From her other side, Yo’ldoshoy reached out and Ahrora took the smaller girl’s hand. To’fon took Bohrom’s and, with uncharacteristic earnestness, Dildor took Yoldy’s.
Zeno Umarova’s crackly old voice had risen slightly and she was finishing up. Everybody issued the obligatory applause. Ahrora glanced at her teammates, mind racing as a portal opened and the Arch-Zeno stepped through onto the stage. Umarova bowed to him and he bowed in return. “Now!” he announced, “we go!”
The Great Dragons of Dread were first, and she watched them disappear through the radiant portal. Then, it was her. “Okay,” she whispered, trying to instill some confidence and levity. “Let’s go kick ‘em in the nuts!” For the first time in her life, but hopefully not the last, Ahrora Babayeva stepped into a swirling vortex of time and space and out the other side.
Ersand'Enise Academy of Thaumaturgy, Constantia
It was morning, and the bells of Ersand’Enise were ringing. All over the city, from spires and steeples, windows and minarets, they raised a cacophony of welcome. Multicoloured flags flapped and strained in the stiff breeze and warming rays of sun peeked through the deep grey clouds. They hung low in the heavens, their bellies crackling with thunder. Brilliant shafts of light pierced the veil, dappling the plains where they struck and turning patches of grass outside the city into ponds of shifting whispering gold or green.
Inside the walls waited hundreds of students, staff, and townspeople with growing anticipation. Businesses did a brisk trade in all manner of snacks, refreshments, souvenirs, and items useful for the coming competitions. The calls of vendors, laughter and chatter of friends and families, and a hundred different pungent scents filled the air. As with each iteration of the famous Trials of Ersand’Enise, every inn was booked full, every tavern had cleared space in its attic and cellar for beds and hammocks, all rooms had been rented out, sofas slept on, guest houses occupied, and yards filled with tents. Some of the yasoi were sleeping in trees and had eagerly made room for more of their people.
Then, they were there: into the middle of a grand plaza appeared a portal of swirling light, sound, and magic, and a second moments later. These yawned open, lonely even amid the collective gasp of thousands and rising crescendo of murmurs. The first began to disgorge a hundred or more tall, slim youths from Tarlon: yasoi of the Tantas Island Academy of the Gift. They bounded, leapt, and grinned, waving, pointing, and fanning out. The second opened to an orderly procession, one-hundred-twenty-five students and one fifth as many Zenos marching through, two abreast. Glancing around excitedly and whispering amongst themselves, the biros of Twin Emperors took their assigned places and shot curious glances out at their new surroundings.
A third portal opened, then a fourth and a fifth. Brown-skinned students from Sawand hurried through, dressed in the loose, ostentatious clothing of their homelands and chattering excitedly. A good number of them appeared to be a variety of yasoi. They were followed immediately by swarthy Xolexoctans with their angular yet swirling ornamental paints, piercings, and draconic leathers. They charged through in formation, let out a collective roar, and took their places as the first portal winked from existence and the fifth opened. Unusual and eclectic groups filtered through as further rifts appeared:
Parynesian islanders with their bold tattoos, surfing boards, and grass skirts; fur-cloaked Retanese from the far north, along with an incongruously showy group of bards; Yspawashi wildmen with various animal motifs, howling and hissing; pale, rugged Vossoriyans with their fur hats, finely patterned hems, and booming voices; peoples of southwest Callanast with rich furs, headdresses, and tassels galore, dancing about; towering Eskandish announced by their great katterhorns and savagely noble bearing; Proud and solemn Darhannics in the flowing silks and satins of their homeland; Dark, boisterous East Severans, with their bold hairstyles, waving, smiling, and chatting excitedly; and, finally, the simple solid people of Kagan and the inner Callanast steppes, trying to look dignified but clearly overwhelmed.
Then, it was done. All of the schools had come. For a moment, everything became as if still and silent, despite the noise and motion. Conversation buzzed and students, Zenos, and citizens of the free city alike eagerly awaited what they all knew was coming. Every year, each of the two Holy Sees sent a team of initiate monks and nuns and they were almost always among the very strongest. At the very same instant, twin portals opened up at either side of the stage in front of Balthazar Hall and two teams in the various coloured robes of the monastic orders of Quentism marched out. Coming to a stop directly in front of each other, they lined up face to face and locked eyes. Then, the leaders of both teams reached out, clasped hands, and shook, followed by the other eight.
The next portal disgorged five young yasoi pirates who traipsed boldly across stage, bowing and grinning, and quickly made their way into the crowd among others of their people. Then, came the first of the truly anticipated groups: ten young eeaiko emerged, their long mossy hair, webbed fingers, and large dark eyes thoroughly unhuman or unyasoi. They split into two groups, exchanging quick smiles and a few words, before waving at the curious crowd and stepping aside. While one group maintained a semblance of cohesion, the other’s members could be seen bouncing up and down excitedly, gesticulating and conversing amongst themselves.
Finally, the moment had come and it could not be said that the authorities of the academy were not without some flair for the dramatic. A single yawning black portal opened and out walked five youths no different in age and, perhaps, disposition than any of the others, be they human, yasoi, or eeaiko. These, however, were no more than two thirds to three quarters the height of the first, stocky, burly, and already possessed of robust facial hair at their young age. Their clothing was heavy: made of leathers, furs, and metal plate with glowing runes etched into it. Perhaps more than a handful would’ve commented on how hot they must've been were not everyone so enraptured by the sheer novelty of these people. After all, In the entire city, no more than could be counted on one’s fingers had seen a hegelan before in the flesh.
Quietly, however, from a portal off to the side of the plaza, a team of five tall fair youths took their places. Many did not even notice them at first, but then a chill began to spread outwards and a strange sick feeling took root in people’s heads and stomachs. It was as if they’d been exposed to a blinding, strobing light, as if they’d eaten something spoiled, as if a weight was pressing down on them. Tiles and cobblestones began to glaze over with ice, even in the subtropical late spring, and people nearby bent over to wretch. Some staggered away. Others collapsed, clutching their heads. One of the five, bundled up in a thick parka and with a lick of shaggy blond hair half-covering one of his cool blue eyes, blushed and glanced around. After a moment, as the frost and discomfort had spread, his unusually large mouth cracked open in a massive grin that rendered his eyes upside-down crescents. “Oops,” he chirped cheerily, and both the unnatural freeze and some - but not all - of the mystery illness receded. “Sorry ‘bout that.” The gasps and murmurs settled into a heady buzz of talk. This, then, must have been the fabled Ice King and, whatever people had imagined him to be, he was now revealed, at least in part.
“Welcome one, welcome all!” boomed Zenith Upta’s voice, amplified by the Gift, and people’s attention was drawn back to the stage. “Welcome to the Ersand’Eniise Academy of Thaumaturgy in this, our five-hundred-fiftieth year!” There was applause and it was a good deal louder than one might’ve suspected from the number that could be seen clapping. The sound of the crowd, also, appeared to be at a suspiciously respectful low for a gathering of over a thousand boisterous teens. “For today and over the coming week,” the Zenith announced, against a backdrop of rumbling thunder and a gust of wind, “you will live, learn, and compete against each other in a series of five competitions.” She waited a moment for the sound of conversation to die down and an aggressive sweep of hissed, “shhhs” advanced across the crowd, silencing it. “Our first event, as you know, shall be the Great Melon Derby, as it has been every year for longer than any of us have been alive.” She paused and glanced at an exceptionally old man who sat on a high-backed chair nearby. “Even the Paradigm… I believe.”
She lapped up the obligatory laughter. “Now,” the Zenith continued, “for our second event, we can look forward to…” A black sack floated her way and she made a show of reaching into it, shuffling through a bit, and extracting a rolled-up piece of paper. “The Dragon!” she announced, holding it up above her head.
At that moment, in betting houses all over the city, hundreds of magi changed hands. The result was much the same when the third event was announced as Roses & Neskals: a notorious game of magical dodgeball that was often a spectator and gambler favourite. With the fifth event a staple, as was the opener, this left only the fourth and, when it was announced as Thin Air - a game of extreme altitude and brinkmanship - the crowd erupted into a flurry of speculation, half-baked strategizing, and not a little consternation as well. While it had been many years since a fatality had marred the Trials, the last one had been in that very event, and in a most grisly fashion. Finally, matters would conclude as they always did, with the physically and psychologically gruelling slog of Tug-of-Peace.
All competitors were assured that rules would be explained before each game and that they would receive printed instructions in a language that they could understand. Indeed, translators were hard at work at the ears of some. Food and drink would be made available before the first scored event right here in the plaza and in Balthazar Hall, and an enormous leaderboard, updated after each, would be kept right above the fountain in the King’s Plaza. The first drops of rain had begun to fall, the Zenith was speaking on procedural matters now, and one could see and hear people’s attention waning.
All at once, in a purposely droning voice, she made an observation. “Half of you are drifting.” Upta shook her head. “I could say that I had expected better, but I’ve done this too many times, so let’s make things a little bit interesting, shall we?” Out of nowhere appeared an hourglass and a small bell on her lectern. “The moment that I ring this,” she declared, picking the bell up, “your team will have three minutes to find a second team - not from your school - to pair with. So long as you are in physical contact with them at the exact moment that your three minutes is up, you will be allied to them for the first event. Your points will be their points and vice versa. However, those teams who are unable to find partners will participate on their own, at a severe disadvantage.” Voices rose in alarm, confusion, and excitement. Thunder rumbled, the clouds flashed, and the rain began to come in earnest. Zenith Upta smiled deviously. “Good luck.” The bell rang.
Guest Team Selection
Remember that these selections will be valid for the first event only: The Great Melon Derby. You will select a different allied guest team for the third event: Roses & Neskals
IC Details It is pouring rain. The Zenos will announce that all teams must pair with another that is not from their school. You will have three minutes to make your choice and all five of your members must be in physical contact with all five of their members when the horn blows and time is frozen temporarily. You will then be considered paired. Those who fail to pair will be forced to go solo.
OOC Details
Rank your top five priorities in terms of guest teams that you want to pursue.
Once you have a list, I will return it to you with feedback on how interested that team is pairing with you. You will be able to do this up to twice. After that, it'll be finalized.
Guest team interest in your team will be ranked from -2 through to +2, with 0 being neutral. These will be bonus modifiers (bringing their rolls closer to or further from yours) in case you have to compete to get this team against other teams. More on that in a bit...
If others want a guest team that you have selected at a higher priority level than you, they will win it. If your team selects a guest team at a higher priority level than all other teams, then you will win it.
However, if another group or groups select a guest team at the same priority level, you will roll against each other and the guest team in #damis-judgement on discord. Each member of the guests will roll first and the idea is to roll as close to their numbers as possible. Each member of your team will roll (another person may roll for you if agreed upon). You will call out which guest team member's roll you are trying to match and that will be binding. No changing minds and no rerolling.
The player team that gets more of its rolls closer to the guest team's rolls is considered to have won. This could be a close 3-2 or a 5-0 wipeout but, IC, all of your members will be considered to have succeeded.
This minigame will be held live Friday night, September 30, at 8:00 PM GMT-4. If you cannot attend, make sure that somebody in your group can. They may roll for you.
Melon Derby Scoring
Team selection is not a scored event, but the right choices could help you in the game starting one IC hour after this, following the brief brunch reception: The Great Melon Derby. For this event, point totals will be as follows:
First Place: 50 points
Second Place: 40 points
Third Place: 35 points
Fourth Place: 30 points
Fifth Place: 25 points
Sixth to Tenth Place: 20 points
Eleventh to Twenty-Fifth Place: 10 points
Twenty-Sixth to Fiftieth: 5 points
All Other Finishers: 2 points
Disqualified: 0 points
Disqualified (Dangerous Play): -5 points
In the event of a tie, both teams will receive the designated point total and the next rank below will be skipped.
Resources
Please find a detailed map of the city for the upcoming Melon Derby below. All of you will begin in the plaza north of Balthazar Hall. Also, take a look at the Guest Teams Guide for some help prioritizing the teams that you want to ally with, as well as the Leaderboard to stay up to date on scoring.
Trial One: The Great Melon Derby
With the holiday Melon Day having just ended, thousands of melons flood the city of Ersand'Enise. Most years, the number comes in just north of 20,000. This year, the exact total is 20,606, divided between the five 'elemental' melon types of firemelon, watermelon, thundermelon, terramelon, and cloudmelon.
Precisely one of each type is special: created through binding magic and seeded with a spell that will trigger only once it is picked up by someone with a RAS of 5.00 or above. This spell will correspond to its elemental type: the firemelon will scald, the watermelon will splash, the thundermelon shock, the terramelon cover you in dirt, and the cloudmelon buffet you with a strong gust of wind. One further melon, of a type that matches the element of the deity currently in ascendance, is the 'Melon Supreme'. It is seeded with a temporal magic spell that will freeze time for all but its holder for precisely two minutes. It will also send out a massive beam of energy into sky, marking the position where it was picked up. It is strongly recommended that its bearer use their two free minutes to beat a hasty retreat to somewhere safer.
Each melon is worth a particular number of points, with the special melons being worth the most. Below is a guide to these:
All standard melons (there are 20,050) are worth 1 point. These give no special indication.
Some larger melons (there are 500) are worth 10 points. These have a bell hidden inside and will jingle. The bells have a specific magic signature and are very hard to counterfeit.
A small number of very large melons (there are 50) are worth 100 points. These have a special magic item bound inside of them that will release a pleasant and pungent aroma whenever they are handled. Also very hard to counterfeit.
The five 'elemelons' are each worth 2000 points. These will have the effects described in the previous paragraph, depending on the element that they represent.
The one Melon Supreme is worth a mighty 10,000 points. It is generally considered an all-but automatic win. Only twice in history has a team finished with this melon in its possession and not won.
Teams may acquire melons by all and any means possible, barring direct assault causing serious bodily harm against their opponents or non-participants. They may lie, cheat, steal, bribe, and destroy at will and often do. Targeting opponents' melons to deny them points is a tried and true tactic and the teams' home bases (their Zeno's house) are often temporarily turned into veritable fortresses, even though opposing teams may not actually enter the property. All melons acquired by a team must be deposited at their home base in order to count for scoring purposes. In general, the rule with regards to cheating is, 'cheat in style.' Counterfeit melons, created either through binding or a mix of chemical and greengrowth abilities need to be able to seamlessly pass as the real thing. Get busted and any fake melons you're caught with will cost your team five points each. Rough someone up? That's a 25 point penalty, though some teams tactically decide to eat it. As for sneaking into an enemy team's home base? Better not get caught, or that's a 100 point penalty per person per instance! Any severe injuries that you cause that can't be quickly healed through binding will result in immediate disqualification. Just... don't be that edgy. It's not worth it.
When the derby ends and melons are totaled and inspected, they must be in a condition judged to be 'consumable' as part of a healthy meal in order to earn their team points. Destroyed, badly damaged, obvious cheat, or rotten melons will not count, regardless of which type they are (including the elemelons and the supreme). The five teams with the highest point totals will occupy the podium for this event. Allied teams will share the same ranking.
Event:Taldes, 5th Velles. Great Melon Derby |Location:Academy of Thaumaturgy, Ersand'Enise
The time of the games are beginning as multiple guess teams make their way through the city. A sense of vibrancy erupted in the city as those from many different cultures and ways of life intermingled. Despite all the jovial greetings and welcomes of the different teams, the most important feature of the pre-event is sizing up the competition and getting to know them. The group came together to decide a name: SYCAMORE, created after Ymiico tried to spell out the first letters of Silas, Ymiico, Casii, Ayla, Manfred.
Ayla sat with a group of bard sisters from Greenfields as she enjoyed her coffee, the others enjoying their coffee, milk, and honey treat. “Oh, wow, you put milk in it here?”, Mio looks wide-eyed as she slurps upon the cup, enjoying the sweeter brew. “The cream makes the dream… too bitter otherwise”, the girls are having a friendly chat, even joining in with a Zenobucks chorus. Ayla ticks another group from her list, at least if it all goes wrong, she may have a place at another academy ”Remember to look out for Sycamore!”. Other groups were less suited, giving ominous vibes and feelings.or personality clashes.
Casii and Ymiico had some good success with a group known as Yyshta’s favoured. Fellow Yasoi like themselves who definitely fit the profile of what they were looking for in the Melon Derby, a very strong candidate to winning the tournament as well.
The strategy and planning comes to an end as the instructions are given. Three minutes to pair with the other team not from your school. The signal was Vyshta, and using a sonic-broadcast attack, Ayla crafted the words and sent them up into the air, as the sound-flare announced their location for the other team to find them. “This should make it easier if they know where we are.” Ayla said with a smile, with some disapproving looks.
It wasn’t long for bird calls to ring out as the team identified the fabled team heading their way. They prepared their approaches, Ayla was on the look out for Velani’ashen’orpax. Her only clue was that she apparently talks a lot, and she wasn’t quite certain how Casii expected her to find her on this information alone until she was able to hear how cynical and mouthy she was from streets away.
Ayla brushes herself down, hoping to at least make one good impression to a yasoi. She makes her way towards the group as she heads towards the Velani, with a big smile. ”Ah, you all came! Good to meet you, my name is Ayla and you must be Velani, we heard you coming.” Velani tilts her head to the side as she points towards Ayla, then looking back towards her group, “What is with this sassy… lost child?” The Yasoi appeared to burst in laughter, including Casii who appeared to be in on the joke. Ayla groans, as she failed to make another good impression on one of their kind. She moves to grab the outstretched pointing hand, pouting a little. ”You know what they say, good things come in small packages.”
With the recruitment done. Team Sycamore is now ready to take on the Melon Derby!
Location: Zeno Afraval’s Abode - Some Vineyard outside Ersand'Enise Day of the week: Victendes Time: 4:30 HE Characters: Jomurr @Force and Fury, Kaspar @Wolfieh, Vieri @jdh97, Yuliya @Suicharte, Zarina
A lot of noise could be heard from the cellar below Sienna Afraval’s home. To some it would be cause for worry, but for those of team Sunbeam it was to be expected. Zarina and Marceline had been tinkering with random objects down there for a week now and were now using it as storage space with the blessing of their teacher. The silver lining from this incessant vacarm was the smell of freshly grounded coffee that came with the daily visit.
With Marceline gone, the tall Virangish teen joined the home’s living room with her apron still on and her hair crudely tied into a bun. In her arms were not cauldrons or pans, but a bird cage and a couple of bug nets. Her golden, squinting eyes scrutinised every living participant of a relaxing Zeno-day. Something was coming, and she took her time to announce what machinations were being concocted in that mind of hers.
“... So, who wants to win the melon derby?”
“I take it you have a plan, and don’t just enjoy tired arms?” Vieri said. This still could be some elaborate joke, no matter how earnest Zarina might seem. That was called paranoid thinking.
“Yes.” Zarined replied. One of the nets was hurled toward the one courageous enough to speak up, “And you will be instrumental in exacting this plan.” she smiled.
“I was afraid of that.”
”So, what is plan Zazzy? Don’t think melon fit in cage.” Yuliya spoke, confused. She was sprawled out on one of the chairs furthest from the window, enjoying the shade of the room. The sun of Ersand’Enise had been getting to her recently, but this was a nice reprieve. Besides that, her brain was wracking. Zarina wasn’t the type to walk around with impractical clothing or equipment. There always seemed to be a method to her madness, and she was excited to see what was about to be proposed.
It was Yuliya’s turn to catch a net flying her way, “Oh we won’t be storing melons, Yuli. I’ve got something more … Exciting in mind.” she posed the cage over a nearby surface and slapped her hands together to brush off the accumulated dust, “And yes, I’m aware, I’m purposefully withholding this to draw out suspense. I promise, it’ll be cool.” she paused for a moment, eyes on the Vossoiyan looker, “And by cool I mean awesome. It’s actually getting hotter outside these days. How hot does it get back home, actually?” she asked her blonde friend. Luckily, dusk was approaching.
”Nothing like over here. Much cooler. Hard to move.” said Yuli, exasperated by the climate and fanning herself as she caught the net in her other hand. She could keep her secrets, she was always down for a surprise. She couldn’t wait for the sun to set. Days were longer here and it annoyed her. Longer to feed and longer to walk the streets. “So, anybody have idea? I do not.”
There was something about the sheer… forwardness of Zarina that irked Jomurr, but equally something about her moxie that intrigued him. He had no idea what she wanted with that junk and some part of him rebelled at the thought of meekly going along with her plan, but there was ever a tiresome spark of curiosity in him these days.
From his place on a divan, where he was lounging most luxuriously, nursing a glass of cabernet, Jomurr merely shrugged. “I imagine you’re about to find out,” he ventured, swirling the wine once before taking a sip. “And far be it from me to ruin the suspense.” He winked in Zarina’s direction as if to say, ‘your secret’s safe with me,’ counting on his masterful control of his face to sell the lie.
“I won’t say no to playing along with a well made plan though.” added Vieri.
Jomurr had a wineglass in his hand and the two nets were already distributed, so he lucked out. Zarina did a final head count before clearing her throat, “Well, looks like Red’s gonna miss out.” she shrugged, “Okay, to unravel the first step of my plan.” she twirled on her feet and ended up facing the entrance door of the Zeno's home and opened it, “We’re going to the local vineyard!” she exclaimed in a clumsy display of showmanship, arms gesturing to the outdoors, “And, no, we’re not getting piss drunk to cope with our inadequacies.”
She did not speak for Vieri.
“Why else would go to vineyard? We catch grapes instead of melon? You are such a tease.” said Yuli, pouting jokingly at Zarina. As much as she wanted to hear the answer, she could appreciate the theatrics of the situation. Regardless of that, there was a hint of annoyance at the fact that she would be going out with a net to the fields when she was certainly not dressed for it. At least dusk was coming and she didn’t have to worry about the high noon sun staring her down, but it was still an inconvenience enough to make her want to sigh. And so she did, as she stood up ready to hear her pal’s plan.
“I’ll let you get one guess. What is so interesting in a Vineyard that it’s worth our time?” she kept a toothy grin on her visage as the group followed her lead. Cage in hand and the sky orange from the sun setting, it would take a good twenty minutes for them to get to the edge of the city, and with proof of their tuition in Ersand’Enise they were allowed out, albeit before it got too late, “A small hint, it’s not for the pretty views.” she added, while sticking close to her Vossoriyan friend for idle chit chat and mentions of novel clubs they may have found. This one was a fan of the new girl.
They would eventually get to the location with raisins beginning to mature into blue, Muscat grapes. Everything appeared somewhat normal with nobody in sight, as the field itself was quite isolated with rows of trees surrounding it and a single road brushing East, “Shhhh, don’t wanna spook ‘em.” she said as she began to crouch a little. Some would begin to notice very quick critters flying about and diving into the plants with brief flashes of light emerging from their supposed point of impact. Burning smells were becoming more obvious with frequent clicking noises coming from the rustling grape plants.
‘What the fuck was that’ was the first thing that came to Yuliya’s mind before she saw more of them bounding around. The foliage made it hard to get a clear look, but she did not have nearly as hard a time seeing in the dark as her team members, so she observed. Little wings fluttered in the sunset, and occasionally she would see the fire that spewed from the holders of those wings. She sighed again, knowing what would have to be done. ”I won’t ask why you want them. But I name them when I catch them. And if them burn clothes, you pay.” she whispered only half jokingly, as she began to get into a position better suited for stealth. She’d done this to humans before, but animals were notoriously harder. Especially flying ones. Then again, she didn’t expect things to be easy.
Kaspar wasn’t sure if his apprentice group had noticed him catching up on their way out of Ersand’Enise, but he watched from a few feet behind at the small, swooping dragons. He eyed them passively, watching the small bursts of fire and half-listening to Yuliya’s words. This will be good practice for Varmkorv. Though… the size is inaccurate, he mused, pushing the sleeves of his tunic away from his wrists.
Stepping back and glancing around, he noticed one clinging to a group of grapes just below eye level. Its skin was a little more saturated than the fruits around it. Moving slowly, Kaspar pulled against the small cloth tucked into his vest, gripping it by the edges as he closed in. The dragon glanced up, eyes blinking several times as it seemed to stop, searching for the threat.
The Binding mage was slow enough to evade detection—and fast enough, as his hands darted forward and swaddled the small creature. Calling on his Chemical skills, remembering the way he’d assisted Zarina with the alpha Froabas, he soothed the small creature as it struggled against the bond. After a few seconds it began to calm down, breathing heavily but still in his hands as he cradled it against his chest, unsure what to do now.
His attention was captured by rustling around the bottom of the vines just to his side. Tucking the bundle grape dragon into the top of his vest where it formed a curious lump and peeked out overtop the buttons, the boy leaned down, pulling back the trailing greenery.
A red face and rather rotund body stared at him, before springing towards him. Small but sharp teeth clamped onto his fingers and the boy grunted, pulling back sharply and dragging the drake into the open. He grabbed at its tail, causing the creature to whirl and breathe a bout of flames that licked against his skin, burning the upper layer of skin.
With new determination, Kaspar grabbed it around its bountiful middle, pulling it off the ground and facing away from him as it twisted and snapped. Thrashing, its tail disturbed the vines and sent several groups of dragons scattering loudly away. It also lashed across the noble’s face, leaving several red lines that would fade in a few minutes.
It did, however, throw Kaspar off balance, and he tipped backward to land heavily on the dirt, focus only partially dissuaded from the task at hand—persuading this creature to cooperate. Aided by Chemical Magic, it calmed enough for him to turn around and the two regarded each other with concerningly well-matched pouts. “You are feit og sint. But you do not know these words. Fat and angry, the Avincians would call you.”
Sitting up, another shape slid into view clinging to his bangs. Trying and failing to scramble up his bangs, the small Blueberry Dragon was plucked from the boy’s scalp and seemed to shake in his grasp. It was easy enough to see the thing was afraid. Soothing it with chemicals, the boy stood, now cradling three of the creatures.
Zarina quickly twisted to find Kaspar had actually joined them! And the loud mess he made agitated a few flocks of little dragons, prompting them to take flight. Just as she was readying herself for a catch before most of the critters would retire for the night, Vieri appeared with their own magnificent beast.
“So why are we here, Zarina?” Vieri asked. They were weaving their arms to keep a plump little dragon forever running along them towards their hands.
“Woah. That’s a thick one.” she blinked and leaned over a bit to observe the grumpy creature somehow not mauling its new owner, “We’re here because our first trial involves fruits, and finding them.” she grabbed a raisin from a vine and tossed it over to the raspberry dragon, and it promptly ate the treat, “Am I making sense?”
The dragon carried on along its eternal path. “I don’t think grapes count.”
“... They eat fruits and bugs. Grapes are just readily available in vineyards.” yet another grape is offered to the red, chunky beast, “This is a Raspberry dragon. Notice the lack of raspberries in its mouth!” she said with a toothy grin, content with having this animal around.
“You want to use the dragons?”
Zarina gave Vieri a dull stare, “No, I want to collect them all.”
“How droll. What of each peach, pear, and plum in the city? Or every raspberry? Are you a dragon tamer? A whisperer?”
The Virangishwoman smiled confidently, “Kaspar as my witness - Because he helped me - I tamed an Alpha in the desert! You were there. But, yes, I have an idea on how to train them. Sort of.”
“Sure… I was there…” Could a memory smell of fear? “Do we get to know your idea?”
“Well that’s precisely the idea.” she crossed her arms, “Train them to sniff out specific fruits. These buggers in particular,” she nodded at the direction of the red dragon Vieri had claimed, “have a powerful nose for those. It’s just a question of technique and patience.”
Vieri sunk into silence. That was indeed the question. Vieri just wanted the answer.
Jomurr, meanwhile, was occupied by his own efforts to collect a tiny dragon. He had ample experience with the larger varieties, of course. He had three of his own back home and, soon enough, they would find their way to Ersand’Enise. Though this may have been - literally - a different beast, he went in with wholly-justified confidence…
It was immediately crushed. His attempt to lure one of the little beasts over with a particularly large and ripe grape and some chemical magic resulted in his hair nearly being set on fire. The creature bit at him next, but then it tipped its hand with a predictable stream of fire and, miffed, Jomurr drew it all away and launched it right back, scaring the scaly little devil away.
Already tiring of this fruitless endeavour and, after taking a moment to cast about to ensure that he wasn’t being watched, he pursued a second, his shirt being clawed at before he managed to dodge its flaming breath, lune forward, and… trip on an outstretched root. “Blast it,” he hissed beneath his breath, manain to prevent a faceplant. He whirled on the pint-sized terror and… it landed on his forearm and licked at the grape juice smeared all over it from his near fall. Jomurr blinked. The grape dragon blinked. “Did you really need to make it so hard?” he inquired. He tilted his head to one side. The grape dragon tilted its head to one side.
While the others went off, Yuli had taken her time. There were many dragons in the field, but she had one particular target, a rather chunky specimen adorned with raspberries and lacking wings to fly. Perhaps it was the uniqueness that had caused her to go for it, or perhaps it was the fact it was apart from the others. She’d always been better at going for solitary prey, and today was no different. Slowly, she crept through the bush she’d found this one in, and slowly, she made her move, waiting for the moment it’d be distracted and caught unawares. A few minutes passed before she felt confident, but she quickly snatched it up, dispatching its senses with the ever so handy blood type she’d taken from a friend, and shoving it in the net given to her by Zarina. Perhaps these creatures weren’t as wily as she initially thought. It was heavy, and she thought the net might give way to the struggling at times, but the job was done. She went to rejoin the others, only to find that everyone had caught at least one, and there were more than one of her chunky type specimens. She felt a little deflated that she hadn’t caught some outrageously rare specimen like she previously thought, but perhaps confident that her teammates seemed to be extremely competent.
“Good work! Are fat dragon useful? This one grumpy, I have to turn their senses off to stop it making racket.” she spoke as she emerged from behind the group still keeping somewhat stealthy without even realising it.
“Alright, alright, good job.” Zarina congratulated her team after supervising their approaches, and definitely making note of Yuliya’s peculiar means of keeping control over the beast. “I’ll tell you guys how we’re gonna handle training after I get myself a cutie too.” she rubbed her hands together and posed the cage to let the others put their recent catches in there. It was time for Zazzy to claim her prize, and it seemed most of the little critters had since left. Luckily, some vines were still bustling with activity.
First was a pack of four Grape dragons, and in her confidence she failed to actually catch any with one of her sleeves catching fire and a particularly feisty dragon biting her finger, “Agh shit!” by the time she regained her composure and put out the small flame on her arm, they had flown away. However, the commotion scared a couple of Blueberries that, due to their proximity, reacted with some aggression. Being relatively frail and unaggressive compared to Grapes, the result would be a couple of scratches from and a blue little critter in the cage, put to sleep by Zarina’s potent chemical magic she had arrogantly withheld from using initially, “Eshi …” she huffed before turning her attention toward Kaspar, “Hey, Kaspar. Mind helping a girl out?”
Shifting his grip on the animals he’d collected, the binder made his way to his companion, red eyes already taking in the minor injuries she’d managed to accrue. None of them were particularly large or worrisome, so despite his student status the boy was able to repair them with the Nourishment of Oraff-Zept, a skill he’d only recently begun learning. Leaves disappeared off the vines around them, subtly plucked by his bloodchild Gift and lending their being to become part of the Virangishwoman. “Are there any others that bother you?” he asked, giving a cursory glance to check for obvious wounds.
The process prompted Zarina to briefly hiss, mostly from her expectation of it stinging rather than the healing hurting at all. “All good, thanks bud.” she responded with a grateful nod and a playful wink, “Okay! We've all got our little buggers.” the teen clapped her hands together to get the attention of the group. The sun had set and the sky was getting dark, with all the little critters now gone to their nests, “Plan is simple: I'll babysit them every afternoon. Kaspar here is gonna find ways for us to maybe replicate some higher value melons so I can train these guys better. We'll be discussing strats soon at Afraval's soon. Good?” she didn't give much room for anyone to interject, “Good.”
Team Sunbeam catches little dragons. Some are chunky.
My first day with the little blueberry. What a mess! I thought the blue ones were supposed to be cute and obedient. But then I forgot this was a wild creature. Damn! This is going to be harder than I thought, especially with all the babysitting I’ll be doing with the other ones on the team so I can train them all. This little one has been hiding the whole time in the little house I made for him, and when I open the cage, he cheeses it! Clearly, this isn’t love at first sight!!! New strategy: He’s gonna only eat when I’m around with the cage open. That’s how I got that stray cat to like me enough once. I really liked that cat. Mother didn’t. I was thinking of a name for a while. I gave up on a meaning, just want something that sounds nice. So, why not Arlo? It just fits the blue colour. Also, he’s just SO CUTE!!!!!
The beginnings went alright. Every afternoon I’d pick up the dragons to supervise and train. The blues were surprisingly easy to handle! Tactically placed scritches did the trick once they got comfy with me being around. The Grape was feisty, but easily pacified with food. Nearly bit my finger off. Not as clever and cute as the blues, but also such an easy baby. The reds can suck my ass. Fuck these fat shits. Sometimes they’re a-okay with tummy rubs, other times I need a binder for my arm! And I’ve had them steal from my kitchen more than once! Assholes. It’s gonna take FOREVER for me to get this going anywhere. I need something extra, like that thing we’re learning at school. What’s it called again? Oh yeah- Magic! Thank the Six for Sienna Afraval, got me in a good spot to actually learn the stuff. I wonder what bottle I should bring next time …
Assani 19th
Location: Sienna Afraval’s Home Day of the week: Lepdes Time: 3:30 HO Characters: Zeno Afraval @Force and Fury, Zarina
The week following the events of the St. Agustin Refuge had left Zarina in a slight crisis of identity - one she had kept under wraps without arousing any suspicions. She had a slight understanding of her situation, that the magic she used resembled something that ran commonly in her family and yet the only examples she truly had of it weren’t enviable. Guidance was necessary and pride wasn’t going to get in the way, although she was careful to ensure her colleagues wouldn’t be around when she’d come by her Zeno’s residence for some orientation.
As usual, the door was unlocked for any of Sienna Afraval’s students to step in and conduct academic work with her supervision. It wasn’t uncommon for students to hang out - usually after doing some actual work - making it a sort of common room after a long study day. Instead of taking a seat, the Virangish teen stood stiff at the centre of the study room, awaiting her teacher’s acknowledgement of her presence. She was wearing a dark, trumpet-sleeve satin dress with her hair tied and her face mildly caked in makeup. Over her left, flexed arm was a Virangish handbag, big enough to hold a couple of large and round objects.
“I suppose I could let you keep doing your best statue impression for a little longer,” the zeno addressed her after a little while, not yet looking up from her work. “You fairly bleed discomfort into your surroundings, Zarina.” Now, she finally twisted to regard her student. “What can I help you with?”
“Sitting and crunching numbers all morning will get me to do that, yeah.” Zarina answered with a titter, her posture relaxing a little now that her teacher addressed her, “Well, Ms. Afraval,” she began to pace toward the nearest surface where she could post her bag and then leaned her shoulder against a wall, arms crossed, “I’m afraid I’m in a bit of an academic orientation conundrum. I was hoping you could help enlighten me.” her voice lacked the usual sarcastic or playful intonations she’d have even with authority figures. It was all to-the-point, “It involves my initial choice of magic schools. Recent events have brought me to believe I should reconsider them.”
Sienna scowled. “You want to switch your courses now? This far into the year?”
“Yes.” Zarina answered bluntly, “I’m not afraid of the workload.”
“I’m inclined to approve it,” the Zeno replied after a quiet moment, “but ‘inclined’ doesn’t mean ‘yes’.” She forestalled any premature celebration. “It’s a lot of work and, though I know you can handle it, I would like to know why.” It was clear that Zarina now had the Torragonese’s full and undivided attention.
Zarina considered her words carefully, for she wasn’t exactly known for her silver tongue. Her lower jaw shifted side to side and her gaze peered downwards, “Uhm, how to explain it …” her eyes return to her teacher’s form, “I’m fairly certain I’ve been mistaking my questionable binding skills for something else.” she admitted, bracing herself for remarks, “But I’ve come to realise I’m actually not too bad at what I’ve been doing anyway. So … Why not explore it further?”
“Mmm,” murmured Sienna, crossing and then uncrossing her legs. “Mistaking Chemical for Binding, right?” She quirked an eyebrow. “You got me.” Zarina raised her hands in surrender.
“It’s funny,” the zeno snorted, “they specifically told us to watch out for that one during training. Your first Zeno should’ve caught it, to be honest.” She pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Who were you with again?”
“Maybe I’m just that good at it.” Zarina lowered her hands to cross them. She smiled at her teacher, and a shit-eating grin it was, “Uhm, it was that super chill one - Born-on-Solstice. Or Sunny. I guess. She was nice.”
“Hah!” barked Sienna. “Should’ve figured.” She smiled knowingly and rolled her eyes. “Sunny’s a lovely person and a damned good mage, but maybe not the sort of person who knows how to say ‘no’.” She let out a giggle. “Her sister and I - that’s Luna - always used to try to get her to say it when we were biros.” The zeno was wearing a shit-eating grin of her own. “Part of it was the language barrier - she was still new here - but she always used to say ‘not yes’.” There was another giggle. “Oh Dami, I have stories. One time, when I was a bit down, she told me to ‘find your inner butterfly’. Great at making you feel better; terrible at real advice.”
Oh fun, stories and good moods, Zarina was happy to see where this was going. So much so she slowly slithered into the comfort of the couch her colleagues would usually sit on to study together. It was comfortable, very soft, probably terrible for the back, “Y’know, you gotta keep these friends close. The feel good ones. A lot are taken for granted, because you’re right, it’s all just feelings talk.” she could use some wine right now, “But fu- ahem, Eshi, am I sick of people trying to explain things logically when I feel like shit. I just wanna be told it’s all gonna cool, embrace your inner pink. Or something.” she snorted, “Luna’s the one that’s a tad scary-looking, right?”
“It was a phase,” Sienna sighed, lips closing into a petite smirk. “She thought it’d make her look cool and mysterious and - not gonna lie - it kinda did. Thing is,” she continued, “She became so well-known for it that when she tried to stop wearing the makeup, nobody knew who she was.” She smiled at the memory. “Now she just takes it off when she doesn’t wanna wear her ‘teacher’ hat. Anyways,” Zeno Afraval stood and straightened her dress a little bit. “You wanna have some wine and cheese, I’m game, but let’s do your forms first. You’ve got them, right?”
“Yep.” right on cue, Zarina whipped out the dossier with all the information of her enrollment and new forms to go with them. It did cost more than she’d expected. With a little bit of Kinetic magic, she had the whole thing drift over to Afraval, “So you had a goodie two-shoes, happy-go-lucky type, and a mysterious edge-dark type. What fun niche did you fill, Ms. Afraval?” she smirked, head tilted ever so slightly to the left.
“Look in the mirror, sweet cakes.” She grinned. “Now, think you can hold it still in midair while I sign?” She raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Wouldn’t want me to mess up the ol’ seal of Afraval, wouldja?”
Grinning confidently at the challenge literally dangled before her, Zarina straightened her sitting posture and pointed both index and major fingers from her right hand to keep the document steady. Jocasta’s teachings were being applied, albeit on a far lighter specimen with little external influences such as vertigo - Although there was some pressure to be felt, and it couldn’t be half-assed, “What you’re saying, as I look in the mirror, is that you also managed to mess up Binding and Chemical? Heh.”
“Only two schools I never cared about, hun.” She put the finishing touches on the paperwork. “Nice gravity looping by the way. Good thing you’re in Kinetic too. Now, this should handle it.” She gathered the forms up and handed them back. Leaning forward, she squinted outside. “Balthazar’s open for about another half-hour, I’m guessing. Hurry, and you might be able to make it.”
“Thanks.” Zarina stored the new documents back into her overcrowded bag and stood up, “Want me to stop by the cheesemaker and nab some goodies? And by goodies I mean cheap wine.” she closed her handbag and glanced at her Zeno, expecting an answer.
“Sweetheart,” Sienna replied, posting a hand on her hip. “Look who you’re talking to. I don’t do cheap wine.” Her coinpurse floated over and a magus removed itself. She was so approachable that it was sometimes easy to forget that Afraval was the royal house of Torragon, even if she was but a distant branch on that mighty tree. “Go get something respectable.” The coin sailed through the air and landed in Zarina’s outstretched palm. “Now don’t just stand there lookin’ at me.”
“Well damn.” she blurted out at the mere sight of a magus floating about. She had seen priceless pearls and hills of scales that could match this value easily, and yet it was always surprising to see folks casually whip out such values. She caught the coin and dexterously let it flip between her fingers, “Top shelf, got it. Red? White?” as she placed these options she was already power walking out, essentially threatening a potential rosé if the Zeno didn’t decide.
“Get us a nice Verdejo… or two.” She paused as Zarina was standing in the door. “Swing by Sunny’s too.”
Shopping List:
Tomatoes
Grapes
Melons
Apricots
Chicken thigh
Salt
Sesame Oil
Update: Little shit Grape caused a small fire and burned the few papers I had left. No choice but to use this notebook for my grocery list. Jomurr’s gotta lear Applied a reward system for retrieval of melons: Reds are the best at tracking them, so if they point in the right direction, they get a reward. They kind of just hiss when they smell the goods. Blues kind of suck at actual tracking, but if I send them in the right direction, they can Grapes —-- than blues, but don’t seem to care what. Training to favour melons is … A work in progress. Reward —- d a tinge of magic akin to what I used to poke in the heads of the an– Torragon. That, too, is a work in progress. Still, even the Reds are liking it!
Note: Burned the pages too. ESHIIIIII!!!!!!!
Zeno Bucks is Celebrating the Melon Derby, and YOU are invited! With melons from the derby, you can win yourself free STARS on your Zeno Bucks Cup! These are special, limited edition GOLD Stars that will remain on your cup forever and valid for prizes after the Trials!
10 Melons = 1 Star 5 Large Melons = 1 Star 3 Very Large Melons = 2 Stars 1 Elemelon = A Special Prize! 1 Fake Melon = You Don’t Wanna Know!
Just under a week away from the Derby. Good progress. Stressed over results. Kaspar provided interesting copies of the unique melons. Tried to have the dragons differentiate them. Middling results. Issue: The items inside don’t emit anything until touched by magic. Only the Reds can sort of sniff out the strange melons and I try to reward that. I guess the reds are like that Froabas we took down - can sniff out stronger energy source to consume. The Blues can detect the bigger melons if close, but the elemelons are a problem since they’re generally the same as regular melons to them. Will need reds to point and it falls on us idiots to find. When the very big ones were activated, all the little dragons lost their shit and went for it. Can be good. Can cause issues. Smells good.
After a long day of classes, Zarina returned home to resume her dragon training regime. Riesco was tended to first and even prepared as she had no intentions of walking all over town. However, just as she was ready to go, Arlo looked up at her from her dining table and simply uttered an adorable ”Mep.” with large, focused eyes that closed with scritches.
“Awww. Mep.” she replied, engrossed by the sight, “Mep.” the critter continued, a change from the usual chirps and clicks, “Mep.” they were stuck in a loop for a while.
I was twenty minutes late for training. Oops. Tomorrow is the big day. These little scoundrels make me proud. Arlo now has the cage open all day and hangs on my shoulder sometimes. But often he’s on my head and tugs on my hair. That hurts! I didn’t actually train them and instead rewarded them with a little feast I made of different fruits I could get. Arlo loves Peaches. So I got him a few slices, and stored a few for tomorrow. Gotta be sure my associates have the proper rewards for the little ones. I hope all the chaos won’t be too much on them. I know Arlo will be scared, but I’ve yet to see how the others handle it. Here’s hoping!
Velles 4th
Location: Ersand’Enise Day of the week: Victendes Time: An hour before the Melon Derby Characters: Jomurr @Force and Fury, Kaspar @Wolfieh, Vieri @jdh97, Yuliya @Suicharte, Zarina
The guest teams from other schools had entered the fray and many stood out. Some for their notoriety, others for the stunning display of power they immediately flexed. Some were simply very peculiar such as the sea people with a Sea Dog - A Sea Dog? Very little could captivate Zarina more than such a bizarre creature. Luckily, something even flashier would come along to sweep the girl off her animal-loving feet.
Some well read individuals called it a Great Wulluweid, but the term “Murder Penguin” became far more familiar to the leyman for a reason. Many eyes were on the monster of an animal that slowly waddled behind a team of five, all seemingly dressed for the cold, apart from maybe two.
”It’s warmer than I thought. We dressed up for nothing.” the tall, dark haired teen standing before his team uttered in his mother tongue, looking a tad exacerbated, ”Heh, now you know how it feels to overdress. Woe is me.” replied the one hidden in pale armour that nearly covered his whole body. A chuckle resonated out of his helm and the gear didn’t seem to hamper his movements at all.
Among them stood out one member that hid the entirety of their features and moved in an unnatural manner - like they were not actually walking. Those that had seen Jocasta levitate before could recognize this sort of movement. They wore but a white cloak and their eyes barely shined through the shade of the hood. As the group was chattering and open season was declared on teams, the hooded enigma immediately twisted toward Yuliya direction and appeared to narrow the two orbs that barely reflected light. A gloved finger pointed right at the blonde Sanguinaire’s direction before the Vossoriyan team approached.
”Khaliun, I don’t think that’s …” Vasily hesitantly reached out without taking any action. His hesitation brought Olga to seize the initiative, ”We go, Vasily.” she gave his shoulder a shove to get him going as she beamed down at the indecisive leader. Following behind Khaliun, Olga was second to greet the team, meeting Kaspar with a hand extended to him, ”Hello. I am Olga. You look for team, yes?” the tall girl - slightly less than Zarina - beamed down to the pale bloodchild with a big smile on her face.
Khaliun still awkwardly tilted their head over toward Yuliya, now being an arm’s range of her. Wordlessly, she offered her hand the same way Olga did. ”I think we can make good team, Khaliun is good uhhh -” he tapped his nose, ”nose for this, da.” he claimed as he approached Jomurr, the tall male that definitely looked like the leader, the same way Vasily was dressed for the occasion. Even if his line of nobility was remote, Jomurr could likely discern some traits and mannerisms that placed Vasily into such an exalted status. Like Olga, he offered his hand.
”Hi there, friend! Team up?” Kol’s Avincian seemed a little less broken than the others’, although the accent remained strong. His armour made him look almost taller than Vasily, although not by much. His big, metal hand was extended toward Vieri with his visible eyes indicating a smile that rivalled Olga’s.
Finally came the wrangler of the intimidating beast that slowly followed the group. A small girl with ginger hair and clothes that attempted to simulate the image her peers gave but were clearly “cheaper”. Chipper and full of energy, she offered her hand to Zarina, ”Friend?” she inquired, her Avincian poor enough that she truly couldn’t formulate more than the simplest of phrases. Still, it didn’t stop her from reaching out.
Zarina, on the other hand, was completely taken by the gigantic Penguin the little teen dragged around. The scale of the thing got her to zone out and desperately look for the voice that addressed her, looking down as her last resort to notice Anna, “Oh, by the Dreamer, hello! This is your friend?” she asked, shaking the little lady’s hand while pointing right at the animal with the other. Anna nodded enthusiastically, ”Kikimoras. That Kikimoras!” she also used her idle hand to tap the belly of the beast, ”Hey, Kiki, say hello to our new and weird foreigner teammates! And don’t eat ‘em.” she ordered her familiar in Vossoriyan, or rather a dialect that was somewhat close to old Eskandish. Zarina was just in awe, figuring the words were pure gravy if they could command such a magnificent beast. Kikimoras, standing so tall and adamant to the endless uproar in the background, merely peered down the whole time without a single bend of the neck.
On a warm Lepedes afternoon, within the Zeno house of Fades-in-Moonlight, Desmond made his way over to the commons area where he had called both Ingrid and Zarra, ”Hey you two, I brought you both here to talk about the Trials and some of my worries. Specifically-”, Desmond looked to both Zarra and Ingrid as he then continued, ”in the physical challenges”.
“Can I opt to physically not be there?” We’re already starting off strong as Zarra dismissively but playfully quips.
”I wish, however you will need to be if we are to even come close to getting top 10 in the Trials, and this is a pretty important event”.
Ingrid was excited to try on her new set of workout gear. And exercising in the sun was nice. Plus this, ”I hope you brought your earplugs Desmond, Zarra is quite the screamer when it comes to strenuous activity,” Ingrid said smirking at Zarra.
Zarra rolls his eyes as smirks back, enjoying the banter. “I don’t think Desmond is planning on cutting me open today, atleast...”
”No not yet with you Zarra. You are too frail for that”, Desmond said with a smile.
“Thank Ipte.” is the only thing the accurately scrawny Thunderchild can think to respond with.
“Should’ve been thanking Ipte last night when I let you cuddle me in bed, or maybe you were just cold from all the blood loss,” Ingrid couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at it.
Inside Zarra is as shamed as a red-nosed reindeer, but he attempts to keep his cool enough to bring his sarcastic defense mechanisms up. “I can’t believe Ingrid of all people would be capable of spreading rumors.” He turns his attention back to Desmond, expecting that line of conversation to end.
Desmond whistled in response to such provacative statements, as he then continued, ”Alright, alright, the poor boy have been harassed enough. So I called you both here to talk to you about starting a training regiment, are either of you willing?” desmond asked as he seemed to be waiting for a response before he continued.
Ingrid responded quickly, “It has been quite a few years since I trained. But I’m sure it would do me good.” Ingrid wasn’t shy about training. In fact she been looking to train more since she has been eating more.
“I mean I kinda doubt it’s a bad idea, at the most I lose some time, and while I would prefer to do something like this by myself, I’d be lying to myself if I said I had the discipline, so having a couple partners would avoid that pitfall.” Zarra brings up thoughtfully.
Desmond had a smile on his face as they spoke, it was one that rested very easily as it was seen more often than not. Desmond said in a calm voice, “Perfect! Well it would include waking up in the early morning everyday-” as Desmond said under his breath before dawn break.
Ingrid already woke up early so this just meant her early morning coffee and pastry from Zeno Bucks. Maybe before hand as Ingrid has noticed the almost miraculous effect the dark brew has on her mind. Who knows what the magical liquid could do for you if taken before training. “We should pick up some coffee before we train in the morning! My treat.”
Desmond looked in astonishment as he asked, ”Oh do they open up before Dawn?”.
Ingrid's excitement vanished, “Before Dawn?” Ingrid slouched, “I guess it will be after…”
“I’m lucky to get up before dusk, let alone the other twilight, is there a specific reason we’re doing it at that time?” he says this with a poorly veiled argumentative attitude.
”Well early morning is the best time as the exercise should take possibly 2-3 hours to complete properly. I don’t want to do late night as from what I know that you guys have something going on, so early morning” Desmond said with a relaxed smile.
”That sounds reasonable, it is just so early. But fine, I will accept your generosity to train me.” Ingrid didn’t like it but it would probably get her closer to her previous fitness and get her to looking shredded enough for her costume.
“You have the audacity to assume I do anything meaningful with my late nights.” This response is mostly a half-truth, it’s more designed to fit in than to actually correct Desmond.
Ingrid was slightly annoyed that he would describe his nights as unmeaningful and she did give him a glare about it but nothing more than that.
“Alright, we can either start now and get you guys started in understanding what kind of training you would do, and possibly embarrass yourselves in front of people. Or I can wake you guys up early and get us started a little earlier before dawn tomorrow to explain things”. Desmond clapped his hands together as he looked to the both of them as he continued, ”Your choice”.
Ingrid didn’t mind going out now, “How about we take a little fly over to the forest to train, it’s usually a little cooler.” Ingrid thought that would be a fun jaunt and it would save her from sweating her ass off in front of everyone.
"Does Desmond have the RAS to fly though?" Zarra emphatically points out.
“I’m assuming Ingrid was just gonna fly both of us over” Desmond said with a small shrug.
”I think it would be a good practice to fly the both of you over to the forest if you trust me.”
"Are we going to do the exercises while flying? I'll admit it would be a little creative…"
”Hu, I never thought of that, however, that also seems very unproductive. As you have nothing to push against or resist against so it might be very weak training” Desmond said while he seemed to think upon it for a moment before shrugging.
"What are you talking about? I bet I could push against Benny's ego from here." Zarra couldn't resist taking a jab at the more powerful student.
Desmond let out a chuckle as he said, ”Yeah yeah-” as Desmond fully shifted as they were to head to the door, ”Let’s go, we should talk more while we are going”
“Alright then,” Ingrid closed her eyes and focussed. Ingrid absorbed the subtle power the planet had on their bodies making them light. She kept Desmond and Zarra close together as she then used it to move them through the air to their location. Slowly picking up speed as they went. Never going out of control but sometimes having a slight change of elevation. When Ingrid spotted a good spot she slowly lowered them into the forest. The landing was not the smoothest but overall save. “Alright, here we are!” Ingrid exclaimed, still excited from the successful flight test.
”Nice going Ingrid, I felt unsafe only twice during that, not bad”.
"So, where's the part where I split trees and eat nails?" Not shying away from hyperbole.
“Not yet kiddo, you are thinking level 2, you aren’t even at level one”, Desmond said as he began taking a few steps forward to stand in front of both Zarra and Ingrid as he continued, ”You will be doing some basic physical training, getting you both into some shape through most physical effort before we would introduce magic to increase the difficulty and effectiveness of training”.
“Alright, where to start Desmond?” Ingrid had started stretching.
Desmond makes a line on the ground as he walks roughly 30 yards, as he then called out to them, “We’ll start with sprints, you guys will run from that line all the way over to here. Once you do, you will then jog all the way back to that line and then do it again. You guys will do that 5 times before we move on to the next exercise”.
Running, Ingrid’s nemesis, “Fine.” Ingrid ran and maybe got to the jog back on the third lap before she started to look ragged.
Zarra, true to his competitive nature, tries to run faster than Ingrid. Using a breathing technique of his own invention, he inhales with his nose and exhales with his mouth. He takes Desmond as literally as possible, going full speed for the first half and a healthy trot for the return.
Ingrid wasn’t worried about the anemic short stack that would make a peasant cry if he was the bird hunted for dinner. She had a longer stride and her full speed was much faster. Just not very long-lived.
Once they had finished the sprints, Desmond sent them through 20 pushups, then 20 situps, then 20 lunges, then 20 jumping jacks. Each one follows a pace set by Desmond, when messed up Desmond stops them and restarts the exercise before they complete it properly. As then they get to the last few exercises, the first of them being Crab and bear walks.
”Alright, now we are going to do crab and bear walks, you will lean back and go to all 4 as you crawl backwards 30 yards. Once you make it to the 30 yard mark, you then go and switch to crawling on all 4 with your belly down and go back to the starting point”. Desmond gives a basic show before he continues, ”Alright, you will do this 5 times, any questions?”
“Does that actually test anything or is it just free embarrassment points?” Regardless of Desmond’s answer, the question is loaded, Zarra is unlikely to believe either way.
“Oh it’s both, you work out muscles that you probably never use lifting a book or a spoon to your mouth while I get to watch you make a dumbass of yourself”, Desmond said with his same old smile.
Ingrid didn’t feel particularly embarrassed but she did have to ask, “So why not train through either sparring or with resistance? I know you can injure yourself but we have a binder here and I can press everyone down with force to make it more difficult.”
“Oh because this isn’t just for strength, dexterity, and agility, this is also for longer form stamina. I’m trying to get you both able to strain yourselves for longer periods of time without tiring or slowing easily, it’s why the training consists of a few hours of exercise rather than just quick strenuous exercises to strain the muscles to then use magic to quickly reform it. That can come later if you really need to bulk up” Desmond said with a few movements, flexing when speaking of strength, doing jazz hands when talking about dexterity, bouncing when speaking of agility, and pointing to the heart when he speaks of stamina.
Desmond then shifted in his stance as he put his hands on his hips as he continued,“Also with sparing, it will come in a bit, I was planning this was going to be the work we do in the morning every day, while sparring comes on the days we have more time, like the weekends. But if you wanna spar now I can always oblige, but after you finish your first set of exercises”.
“Too bad we can’t just bind ourselves new muscles.” Zarra interprets wishfully. “Well, what and how are we sparring? If we aren’t careful Ingrid may turn me into one of those multi-piece puzzles.”
“Full contact I would assume, no magic or eye gouging.” Ingrid smirked at Zarra, “Your pretty good at putting together people puzzles right?”
“What about ear biting?” spoken sardonically.
”Alright alright, yes it will be full contact, just don’t go full force. We may have a binder however I don’t need you guys breaking each other’s bones or snapping necks alright?”
“See, what I don’t like about sparring is that, it’s kinda inaccurate, don’t you think? Like if I’m genuinely fighting for my life, why wouldn’t I do things like pull hair or burn their eyes? I am aware the Trials have rules but that’s likely what I’m gonna do in the moment.” Zarra seems very confident in knowing his own instincts here.
You ever heard the idea, ‘do onto others that you wish done upon you?’. You may play dirty, but if you play dirty and Ingrid decides to drop to your level and it devolves into dirty tricks then either of you might go a little too hard and do something we can’t fix”. Desmond spoke calmly to answer the questions turned complaints.
“Besides you won’t get the full physical benefits of sparing if you both injure yourselves from doing such tricks. I’m not here teaching you how to duel at full force, we have neither the resources nor the time for that. Maybe near the Trials I will line you both up to do some practice duels, however, for the time being while we train, many of those dirty tricks, those full force attacks, stow them”. Desmond sliced his hand through the air as a signal to stop as he then switched topics, ”Alright back to exercise at hand, both of you onto all 4s while facing the sky you guys own me some crawls”.
Zarra aggressively waddles across the grass like some sort of non-euclidean being.
Ingrid had no idea what Zarra was doing but she was crab walking and hating it. Proper exercise.
Once Ingrid and Zarra made it the 30 yards he yelled out to them switch, where they would switch to bear crawling back those 30 yards they covered, as they repeat this 4 more times before they finished. Once they made it back from the final crawl, Desmond said, ”Good job, you guys have 1 last exercise.You guys will be doing sideways shuffling those 30 yards, and then coming back doing more sideways shuffles but facing the opposite way on your way back. You will do this 5 times and then we can move on to some sparring”. Desmond said as he gave a demonstration so they both understood what he was talking about before saying, ”Ready? Go!” Giving no time for idle chatter.
Zarra at some point hits a sharp rock, causing many things to go wrong to the point he just straight up collapses on the ground.
Ingrid would normally not have an issue with this but the current condition of her legs mixed with the forest floor created a unique challenge. She fell once or twice but she manages to get it done without any serious issues.
Desmond watched them and knew this was to happen, the forest is a difficult place to try exercises yet it provided a unique training he didn’t think about. As once they finished, Ingrid after a scratch or two, and Zarra plenty more, they ended up at the starting point where Desmond was standing waiting for them. ”Alright, so that was the first set you guys would be doing in the morning. Normally we would have 4 more sets, however we have a little less time today because we started in the afternoon and y’all wanted to spar” Desmond said with a slight shrug at the end as he then continued, ”So, who wants to go first? I’ll be both of your partners for today so please go easy on me~”. Desmond said the last part with the exact same smile he has always worn, yet his face seemed almost more sly than normal.
"How exactly does one go easy in a fight?" Despite the rhetoric behind it, Zarra seems serious about that question.
”Ah very good question, going easy in a fight would include: Not putting all of your weight into a punch, kick, or throw. Making sure when you throw someone to the ground make sure not to throw them onto their head. If you put someone into an arm lock, leg lock, or any other form of lock not to go through with a full break, just add tension ‘till your opponent gives up. When you have someone in a hold to choke them out, you may knock them out however you are not to try to break their neck or hold them for an excessively long time. Really it’s ‘try not to kill each other or cause irreparable damage”. Desmond made sure that Zarra knew everything he needed, it might be something that inherently made sense to Desmond or even Ingrid but something that might not make as much sense to a Noble boy who has just left home.
Ingrid didn’t need much explanation for what amounted to try not to kill each other. She thought a standard level of empathy and a lick of intelligence was enough to read what Desmond meant. She was surprised to see Zarra needed it explained to him so thoroughly.
"I guess I can go first, just be aware I might go down super quickly, never been one to just accept blows, being Greyborn and all." Zarra sort of approaches, not really sure exactly how to stance, however, he ultimately goes with an open hand stance, rather than the generic cuffed fists. "I guess I'll try using some stuff my brother taught me, can't promise it will be graceful though…"
Desmond starts to back up slightly as he began to roll up his sleeves, ”It’s alright if you aren’t any good, we’re here to start teaching you how to be better”. As once Desmond saw Zarra get into some stance desmond stopped his back peddling and took up his own stance. Having 2 closed fists with his right hand being near his face while his left lower towards his stomach. Desmond still had his smile as he said, ”Alright how about you make the first move”.
Zarra nods in acceptance, then immediately rushes Desmond, intending to slam his foot into his top of the opponent’s, or at least get a shin strike.
Desmond saw Zarra rushing as prepared for multiple different strikes or possible grab attempts, as he saw Zarra lift his foot and go down into a stomp, he waited to watch Zarra’s shoulders, yet there was no other movement, only a full force stomp. Desmond shifted his leading foot inward to be aimed in between his opponents' legs as he lunged forward shifting himself so he would be only centimeters away from Zarra as he loomed over Zarra before he attempted to shove him away.
Zarra did something Desmond likely didn’t expect, rather than attempt to strike Desmond with a knee or elbow combo, Zarra took advantage of Desmond essentially counterapproaching him to grab him by the knee and roll with all the sprints momentum, which if goes through will cause both of them on the ground on their sides and Zarra capturing Desmond with a nasty kneebar.
Desmond didn’t expect this much, it was impressive that Zarra had enough thought to try and get into a situation like this without flinching when his enemy closed in with a possible counter. Yet Desmond knew this maneuver well, the best way to counter would be to drop his weight and allow Zarra to essentially run into his knee, yet Desmond wanted to see more. So Desmond let his weight drop even further as he met Zarra’s tackle with his full body and got him into his grasp. Desmond knew he couldn’t disengage easily, so he was to check the tackle and keep Zarra standing, trying to see what Zarra will do when he is in a bad spot.
Despite possibly being dubbed cheating, Zarra decides to use magic here. He jumps with his both legs and then uses Kinetic to swing himself unusually fast, intending to kick Desmond’s knees out from under him and throw him head over heels.
Ingrid had been watching the spar as she rested knowing her fate was next. She was impressed by Zarra’s ability to outright ignore fear and go in for his own counter. A skill that could definitely help you win a fight. But Desmond was far too seasoned to be stopped by someone who merely isn’t afraid. Desmond countered and was in the process of putting Zarra into a bad spot when the little shit head pulled out magic. A kinetically enhanced kick was dangerous, it had more power and size than a punch but usually lacked speed for a beginner. Being enhanced made it something that can break bones. Ingrid didn’t hold back and performed the skill Dead Stop. For her it was nothing at this point to stop someone of his size. She did her best to express a finite control to not affect Desmond but she did partially. Tch, needs more practice, Ingrid thought before letting out an irritated voice, ”No magic Zarra.”.
The moment Desmond saw Zarra move much too fast for someone in his position and his level, he knew Zarra just used magic. Desmond’s senses heightened to an increased level as he focused on where Zara could have been. Desmond knew he had but a moment to dodge, with Zarra’s body position he last saw, Desmond knew Zarra was going from a low stance to a shifted sideways stance. Desmond took a bet that Zarra was coming from the side to bring him to the ground. Desmond didn’t feel a large shift so that meant Zarra was going to be low so Desmond was going to hop the possible kick. Yet the moment he leaped and brought his legs to his chest, he felt himself in the air for a moment as he felt the energy in his body gone as the only thing that left his mouth was, ”Ehe~”, as he then fell onto his ass. ”Ahhh, ow. Thanks for the save Ingrid” Desmond said as he gave Ingrid a thumbs up
Much to Zarra’s disintention, he stops midkick and clashes with the ground rather brutally, likely pulling the grappled Desmond with him. “Sorry, I was trying to make sure I could perform the move, I wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt him.” Zarra hopes he comes off sincere enough to be taken so, as is trying to be but he knows as a Greyborn he is expected to lie often.
Desmond rose from the floor and brushed himself of the dirt as he said, ”Alright we’ll call it there. That would have been a little serious if we went further”. Desmond said with his same smile as he clapped his hands together getting the dust off of them. As desmond pointed towards Ingrid, ”Alright Ingrid your turn”. As Desmond slowly back peddled again as he started to adjust his sleeves.
“Alright, lets do this,” Ingrid wasn’t ready to spar but she needed to. She started to make way towards him at a moderate rate. She kept distance with her reach and tried to find perch on his clothing to get him into a grapple. Slow and steady at the start was the best way to have a good spar, then ramping up as you go.
Desmond too kept his distance, he kept just out of his own arms reach as it would mean Ingrid would need to step in and go aggressive, he used Vai-to’s methodology of ‘all the way out’ fighting by periodically throw long kicks to send the ball of his foot to her shins and thighs as he shifted away trying to force her to try and stop him, either by closing the distance or trying to read his strikes.
Ingrid tried to read his strikes and catch one of his foots.
The moment Desmond sees Ingrid going to grab his foot, he leaned into the strike to make sure it plants firmly into where it is going rather than the lighter hits he’s done to annoy her. Desmond held himself back from changing his stance to transition out of the grapple he was going to get into as he wished to see how well she can do in transitioning without giving him wiggle room to get out.
Ingrid absorbed the strike and moved in, putting pressure on his inner knee to hopefully knock him down and get into a mount. The kicks hurt but Ingrid believes as long as she gets the mount she is fine.
The moment Ingrid started to take hold of Desmond’s leg, he went with her takedown as she got to a mount. Her skills were quite good, they had been practiced, yet they needed work. Her strength is lacking in some regards, while her precision was decent her speed seemed sluggish, it might be from her lack of use she might not feel perfectly comfortable in changing speeds, yet it was good enough. When desmond landed to his back he instantly shot his hips up to destabilize Ingrid as he closed up his guard. Desmond prepared to defend and was willing to bide his time to break out.
Ingrid lost her balance as he buckled his hips up, “Fuck”. She fell forward and in panic she tried to punch him on top of his head instead of salvaging her grapple. A shameful mount but Ingrid is not giving up yet.
Desmond noticed Ingrid began to panic in her spot, instead of fighting him to reestablish the grapple, she instead transitioned into a pounding with hammer fists to the top of his head. Desmond took a few hits to the top of his head before he established a guard as Ingrid continued to rain down blows. Then it finally came, Desmond found an opportunity to break out as he shot one of his legs out to drop his body to off-balance Ingrid again as he attempted to grab onto Ingrid’s hips before trying to roll her to put her to her back to finish with a mount transition.
Ingrid had hoped that the hammer fists would be more effective but instead he got a guard up. She kept hammering to keep him from reacting but he then flipped her. She got thrown onto her back and tried to stop full mount but she found herself too winded and was easily subdued.
Desmond found the mount lacking, it was too easy as when he fully mounted he saw on Ingrid’s face her exhaustion. Her face was red as she was heaving breaths with a guard loosely thrown up waiting for blows to rain down. Desmond disengaged the mount as he said, ”Alright, we’ll call it there”. Desmond stood up as he let out a sigh, he lightly patted himself down to clear himself of the dust.
Once desmond felt cleared enough he clapped his hands together as he said, ”Alright, you both did pretty decent for your first spar. You Zarra need to learn restraint when using magic as this was a test of control in dire situations, as the over-application of magic can lead to you injuring or killing your partner or opponent, which in the Trial’s will lead to us getting disqualified”. Desmond said with a smile and a nod, while he looked to Ingrid who was still recovering, ”While you Ingrid will need to get into a better condition. You have decent skills, and an okay intuition, yet some of them need to be refined, like your temper and your physique. You tired too quickly from this bit of exercise and a small bout. However, we’ll work on that sort of thing quite more rigorously as that exercising you did was the first set of what is normally 5 sets”. Desmond gave a small nod to Ingrid that she did well as he then finished with, ”Alright, any questions?”
Igrid gave a thumbs up as she continued to catch her breath. There should be more sets after this and she needs to be able to stand up to do them.
“So are we going to learn like a fighting style of some kind at all? I think having a general idea of what we’re supposed to be doing would better anchor our training focus. Me being so light I find myself always wanting to use Kinetic to give myself artificial agility, like you almost had to deal with there. Seriously, sorry about that, it’s impossible to believe you hit hard when you’re as scraggly as me”
”Well of course I have a style I am going with. Now seeing your skills I will be using your natural agility and dexterity to pivot you into Zebaka. Its emphasis on maintaining momentum and kinetic energy seems right up your alley. However, no matter what I teach you for fighting, you will need to have a much better physique as a whole”, Desmond said with a quick wave of the hand as he began to slowly walk around as he continued, ”The Trial’s is not just fighting, it is games of different forms with different levels of physical exertion in ways that could make it difficult to keep up, day after day without some assistance in other ways such as healing and Binding. Magic is a fantastic ability that makes lion of men, however, to fully rely on it would eventually wear you out in the long run by exerting yourself too much and injuring your manas which will affect you into even the next games. The more you can use not only magic but your physical body would mean you can physically exert yourself for longer. And if this eventually becomes a slugfest as the days drag on, the more you can recover, the better chance you have in the next rounds of the games”.
Desmond finally pivoted on his heel as he then looked to Zarra and Ingrid, ”So, our training will not change, it will be quite the same, however, the times when I am teaching you both fighting, I have very specific styles in mind for both of you to do, and both of them I am decently proficient in”.
"Isn't that the one where I do like a triple lutz backflip and launch people into landing with their face?" Zarra twirls in place on 1 foot to emphasize.
”Yep it is, hopefully you are able to actually perform the backflips without landing on your face” Desmond said with a smile and a chuckle before he looked to Ingrid and asked, ”Do you have any questions?”
“So you’re also going to teach us how to fight? I been trained a little in Kastäng before but never taught how to use it to fight. Or are we tossing that for something new?” Ingrid asked. She understood that although she may have some prior training, she may not be very good at it since it wasn’t something she practiced consistently.
”Well I am of two minds on it. With your build, your skills, and experience I think I have a style that could really use your innate height and already learned skills in grappling. But I also understand that you might want to stick with your home nation's traditional style as it is one you feel comfortable in”. Desmond said with a thought on his mind before shrugging and putting out first his left hand and then his right hand, ”So, I’ll give you the option. You can either stick with Kastang and I can start teaching you more in-depth on how to get aggressive with it. Or I can teach you Vai-to the style I was using against you, which uses either full range kicks or steps in for full body strikes and takedowns, which I find can become extremely useful for someone of your build and stature”.
Ingrid didn’t need long to think, “I think I will stick with Kastäng. We don’t have that much time before the trials. And besides, if you're willing to mix in some other skills, I promise I will learn them.” Ingrid was just estimating her skills and keeping with Kastäng and having strikes mixed into it just seemed more efficient than starting clean, maybe even worse off if she had to unlearn certain things.
Desmond gave a smile before clapping his hands and saying, ”Alright, with that settled, break time over, now time to get back to those 4 sets you owe me. If you wanna make it to dinner you better start now”. Desmond spoke those words while never breaking his smile.
As the training lasted a few more hours before they had finally finished, as at that point they had neared and were forced to face their limits before the training was over. Desmond always stood by with his smile as he called out exercise after exercise, giving little time for rest. Once it was finished Desmond loomed over the two tired bodies as he said, ”Great job, you both made it through the first day, now let’s go get some Zeno Buck’s, I’m parched”.
"I usually just get milk, I don't like anything else" Zarra says, trying to add to the conversation.
Ingrid decided to flex her other muscle, her RAS and fly them over. Ingrid listened to Zarra and said, “You should still drink some coffee! It will energize you and keep you going. Remember we are still seeing eachother after school. I recommend a large Cafe au Lait, extra milk and 4 servings of honey since it can be bitter for children” Ingrid didn’t even give Zarra a smug look. She just kept flying.
Desmond chuckled as he heard Ingrid sling out a roast towards Zarra about his choice of drink. As they landed near the stand Desmond approached the stand and made his order which was quite a simple one, ”1 large Black Coffee”. Once ordered Desmond looked to the others as he made a light bow and a sweeping gesture for them to order as well.
Zarra seems to be thinking about his drink more than he’s ever have in his life, “Go ahead and order, I’m still choosing.” Somehow he’s indecisive when there’s only 7 things on the menu.
“Okay,” Ingrid went up to the counter to order. Seeing that it was one of the usual workers, Ingrid smiled and asked for the usual, a large Cafe au Lait. Ingrid just loved a little milk in her coffee.
The binder ultimately decides, opting for something more creative today. “I’ll have a large milk with 3 servings of honey in it, I’ll also take a Brioche.” The cashier of that day sort of gives him a mildly confused look, but ultimately accepts the order.
Desmond listened to each of their orders as when he heard Zarra’s order Desmond laughed as he said, ”Is the milk too strong for your pallet las? Do they need to add sugar for you?”
Zarra snorted back immediately, knowing Desmond or Ingrid were gearing him up for hazing “Is the honey gonna be too strong for your laundry?” Clearly implying he’s going to dump the drink on him.
Desmond laughed as he said, ”Not at all, I wear cloths not silk, it’ll come out fine”. As he lightly patted Zarra on the back as he was jesting, while also preparing for the drink to come to be wary of it.
Ingrid listened in knowing Zarra wouldn’t dump it on her if he valued his hand. But to be sure she spoke out, “Zarra you can dump it on me but you will be buying me new clothes and paying for my next 20 drinks. Got it?” She felt the financial burden would keep him away.
“20 drinks? My Shune, I better buy you an umbrella too.”
“If you would be so kind to at least get me some earplugs, you cry like a Perrench girl”
“Literally why does that bother you? It was your idea to turn me into a pincushion, and you have the audacity to complain about my screams, why you gotta have so many double standards?” Despite the blatant bullying, Zarra seems mostly unphased by it, seeing it as play rather than an actual threat.
Seeing that he sees this as play makes Ingrid feel at ease but him saying this infront of Zeno Bucks makes Ingrid cautious. She weighed what she should say but elected to retreat back her statement as what he said could be easily construed as her being a terrible women, “Oh Zarra, you know I only jest. Besides, this is your research, we can stop at any time.” She wanted to move any suspicion off of her to him if some religious folk took it as her performing Blood Magic.
Zarra, still not really seeming to grasp that what he said could be taken poorly out of context, answers back. “I did sign a contract that I basically wasted your time on, I’m pretty sure that’s my own fault. Plus, we did promise to try everything, even the less than stellar stuff.” He touches his hand in subconscious relief, thanking the gods he is a binder and can undo all superficial wounds.
Ingrid really needed to get out of here before Zarra made her seem even worse. Luckily her coffee was done. She took it and left at a fast pace. Dropping the needed money with the worker.
Zarra took his milk and honey combo and dumped a piece of his Perrench pastry into it, finding it surprisingly enjoyable and compliments himself for the decision.
Desmond sighed as he watched Ingrid left in a hurry, he knew why, the conversation was leading somewhere that could paint them both in a terrible light, and Desmond did not want to get involved. Desmond looked to Zarra as he then grabbed his drink and said while walking away, ”Good job, Prince Charming. Welp see ya for our next Training Session”.
Their interactions officially end as Zarra stands there, left wondering what ‘prince charming’ is supposed to mean when Ingrid was the one who brought up screaming of all things.
The kick came out of nowhere. Miret let out a yelp and started. “What the fuck, Tyrel?” She twisted round, scowling, and batted at her butt. There was a shoeprint on it. “Look what you’ve done!”
“You should be honoured, tica. You just got kicked by a goddess.”
“You ain’t a goddess. You’re nothin’ but a cousin.”
“I am Vyshta incarnate, peon! I am Talit’yrash-fucking-osmax and I just imprinted your lucky bum with my lone precious foot. You should trade those pants at the next mette’stiroi. Pure profit.”
“Talit’yrash was dignified,” Velani cut in, deadpan.
“Wh-what the fuck?” It was Tyrel’s turn to jump back. “When did you get here?”
“This is your fifth time forgetting that I know temporal.”
“One for each of the bringers!” interjected Miret cheerfully.
“There should be six,” grumbled Tyrel.
Everything around them was frozen in time, including the two constantian yasoi they had allied with and the reasonably pleasant humans accompanying them. Velani was capable enough with temporal magic now to resist the rather basic spell’s hold. Miret had been pulled from it the moment that her cousin’s boot had touched her.
“So, do we rouse the boys?” Velani asked.
The cousins glanced at one another. “Naaah,” they said in unison. There was a pause. “Look how peaceful and derpy Chad looks right now,” Tyrel observed. “Like… how beautiful is that moment in time? How dignified? How could we rob him of that?” She and Miret exchanged glances. “We should cast riggus riggus on him,” giggled the latter.
Tyrel gasped and stifled a horrified laugh.
“On his fuckin’ balls,” added Velani.
CUBED3
“Ya know, if I didn’t know any better,” said Janaus, “I’d think they didn’t like us.”
“They’re scared,” amended Irina quietly.
“Yeah, well they got rights ta be,” blabbed Zymachias. He’d slipped a flask through the portal in his coat and he now turned it upside down for a swig. “Fuckin’ ‘Ice King’ here just made us a massive target.”
“Shit, sorry guys,” Nojus scratched at the back of his head. “Me no know mine own strength.” He grinned after a second.
“Hardly a laughing matter,” decided Egle. “Everyone wants a piece of us and -”
“The fuckers snaked us,” Zym growled. There had been two teams pretending to vie for their alliance but, at the last second, they’d instead allied with each other, leaving the Ice King and his allies out in the cold. “At this point, we’ve got zero chance, so I say we just take ‘em down with us.”
“Did we really come here to win some goofy magic trials anyway?” Janaus reminded the others.
“I’d have liked to,” Egle grumbled. Irina nodded.
“Should we be like… fuckin’ petty?” Zym prodded, “and just ruin those two teams’ days?”
“I’m good with that,” Janaus agreed.
“Since we’re not winning, I could do with some revenge,” Egle admitted.
“I want blood,” hissed Irina.
“Y’all want me to pull out my party trick?” Nojus inquired, “Put the fear of the ‘Ice King’ into ‘em?”
Janaus and two of the other three shook their heads. “No, save it. Make ‘em feel it in The Dragon.”
The Ice King grinned.
THESEAPEOPLE
“By the Gods, it is disgusting!”
“There is no actual food in this ‘food’!”
“This one is so burnt, I have no idea what it was in its past life.”
“At least they have snails.”
“You can thank the yasoi for that.”
The hors d’oeuvres were not to the Sea People’s liking. “Who’d have thought the yasoi would be the civilized ones here?” wondered Akeenah aloud. As she spoke, a whole flock of the damned elves came bouncing and skipping by excitedly, stuffing their faces, giggling, and throwing food at each other.
“You were saying?” Yikikauvo replied.
“I find it wondrous how they’re all-but pathologically unable to just walk,” observed Mahoomak.
“Heh, that one literally is,” Auvam pointed out, gesturing at one of the yasoi. “One-legged woman in an asskicking contest.” She looked right at him and smiled and his face went even more ashen than usual.
“Not saving you from that one,” Kyrikeehi remarked absently, picking up her fourth bruschetta.
“H–how do you eat this shit?” Akeenah blurted.
Kyri grinned sheepishly and blushed. “I got Kauvo to turn off my taste buds.”
“Fuck, I shoulda thought of that,” Auvam grumbled. Kauvo winked.
“Just let me do the thinking, buddy,” Mahoomak assured him.
“And I’ll play the tricks,” Kauvo chimed in.
“And I’ll punch things.” It was Akeenah.
“How ‘bout Kyri?” Auvam challenged. Hearing her name, the tall, spidery girl looked up from filling her little plate once more, eyes wide and some disgusting human food dangling from her mouth.
“Why it’s simple, my simple friend! It’s dear Kyri’s job to get punched.” He patted her grandly on the shoulder and she nearly gagged. “That’s why our best girl has to eat up, stay nice and big and strong!”
Kyri shot him a look and a rude gesture.
THEHUGGYBEARS
“Smells like breakfast.”
“Uh-huh?”
“No,” Dances-with-Rainbows clarified, “I actually meant that it smells like breakfast.”
“Very original,” Breakfast replied.
Rainbows blinked. “I do not understand, but thank you!” she chirped.
Then, Breakfast’s eyes widened in alarm. “AAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! Oh my fucking ancestors, his hair is on fire!” She pointed behind the other girl, who whirled on the spot.
“Holy shit! Holy shit! My hair is on fire!” wailed Gives-free-Hugs. “Put it out! Put it out!”
“Oh my gods! Someone put it out!”
“With fire oil,” murmured Punches-Kittens quietly, with a nasty little smile.
“We pray to the water god, patient and clever, rains come now and don’t take forever. We pray to the hair god, please don’t leave him bare, god. We pray to the witch, please leave him hair-rich. We wish for great strength to please fill his clothes. Hugs can live without hair but he truly needs those. The water shall come in a minute or two, and he shall be saved. We believe it is true. Water come!” chanted Takes-the-Piss solemnly. “Water come, Splash his head and splash his bum. Hey–ah–ah-ah! Hey-ah-ah-ah!” There was not a hint of mirth in his facade as he began dancing in a circle. This was clearly a sacred ritual. Dozens of the Easterners had gathered round to watch with growing concern and rapt wonderment at the absurd routine.
“I am on FUCKING fire!!” Gives-free-Hugs screamed, running around in circles, thrashing, and throwing himself onto the ground. Of course, he wasn’t. It was all illusory magic and part of a test to see what these Constantians were like, just as the Huggy Bears’ ridiculous aliases were.
“Oh for Eshiran’s sake!” shouted Isabella, one of their allies. “It’s too slow!” Inexperienced in magic, she managed to pull a nearby bucket full of cold water with her very basic Kinetic skills. This, she dumped all over the stout little Nashi, drenching him. The flames immediately disappeared.
“Praise be to the water god, patient and clever. He has answered our call and will do so forever. Give thanks for the bucket that has saved our friend’s hair. He shall not live all his life being bare up on there. Hey–ah–ah-ah! Hey-ah-ah-ah!”
Punches-Kittens stepped in quickly and placed her hands on Hugs’ ‘burned’ scalp. “Be healed, my child,” she exclaimed, utterly without enthusiasm. When she lifted her hands free, he was as good as new. “Thank you, guys!” He shed happy tears. “I thought I was a goner. And you!” He turned to Isabella tearfully and the Enthishwoman, whose hands were already on her wheels, instinctually took a push back. “Oh thank you thank you thank you! My saviour!” He rushed in, tripped on the footrest of her wheelchair, and got a faceful of her chest. His arms reached out and hugged her anyways. “Thank you,” he murmured, lifting his face free after a long moment.
“Ugh! Hugs, you little perv!” shouted Kittens, rushing in and pulling him away by the ear. This time, he hollered genuinely. “Sorry about…” she trailed off momentarily. “Ugh. All of them.”
“I had forgotten about your change in attire,” replied the sanguinaire. “My apologies.”
“Accepted, as always, Brother Ash.”
“This food must’ve cost more than a year’s schooling here,” remarked a third robed man, his vestments simple and blue. “Just think what else they could’ve done with it.”
“Don’t be so dour now, Brother Flint,” cooed a small shapely woman, laying a gentle hand upon his arm. “What is life if we do not make space for flourishing?”
“Are you certain you would not flourish more in the Vermilion Order, Sister Cadence?” asked a woman in brilliant white and gold robes.
“I am a tool of Ipte, let them use me as they will, Sister Lumen.”
“Just so, Sister, and I do not disagree with you. Life is something to be felt.”
“I don’t either,” said Brother Flint gruffly. “Just reeks of hoity-toity types. Something about these spoiled lordlets makes me wish I could smack them in their smug little faces.”
“You have most certainly placed yourself in the right situation to do that,” Brother Lamb assured him. “There are plenty here who could stand to learn proper fear of the Gods.”
“Speaking of which,” said Brother Ash, “Do you see anyone we should be worried about?”
“The stronger Tarlonese,” replied Sister Lumen immediately, “and their unnatural magics.”
“They are fools,” sneered Lamb, “who worship a false goddess.”
“There is a sangunaire among the home teams,” suggested Sister Cadence. “Quite the titillating prospect.”
“She will bear watching,” said Brother Ash quietly, as the Turquoise Hundrian sucked some of the sugar off of her fingers and the Blue Rezaindian filled his little plate. “Leave her to me if she proves a problem.”
“We worried about Verrano’s people?” grunted Flint.
“Only Gloria, really,” Lamb decided. “I will deal with her if necessary.”
“Please play nice,” reminded Sister Cadence. “She is our sister in faith, after all.”
“In a manner of speaking,” sneered Lumen. “Personally, I am more concerned with this ‘Ice King’.”
“He is a fraud,” Brother Ash assured her. “Though I will admit to being intrigued by the Hegelans.”
“They are unremarkable but for their potions,” said Lamb.
“What of the faculty themselves?” inquired Brother Ash, narrowing his eyes and taking a quick bite of his croissant. “You know their intentions were not pure in inviting us over.”
The Dread Priest went still and quiet, gazing out over the crowd and the five members of their allied team: ‘Good Guy Team.’ They were from some exotic place and quite weak in general. Of course, that mattered little to Covenant. They only needed useful idiots who might be disposable. Still, he could tell that Brothers Ash and Flint both lusted for the girl with the eyepatch: Ahrora. She was a rare beauty, to be fair, in an exotic sort of way, but also a godless wretch. She was right now stuffing her face and glancing in their direction, smiling and waving, and Lamb smiled back. Ash would bear watching. Flint, disciplining - painfully, if need be. “You bear no blame, dear brother,” Brother Lamb assured him belatedly. “It is I who they seek and it is I who shall face them if need be.”
“If Hunghorasz comes after you -”
“He will not do so in earnest.” The Lindrian smiled patiently, beatifically.
“But if he does,” Flint insisted.
“Then he shall kill me.” The others flashed concerned looks, in their own unique ways, and Cadence laid a comforting hand upon him. He clasped it, squeezed it, and let it go. “That will be as Reshta wills it, but let us remember our purpose, brothers and sisters.”
“As always, you centre us, Brother Lamb,” said Sister Lumen.
Zeno Mozaru’s biros had more or less come together just when the first portals began to disburse their foreign passengers. However, while the five students could be counted on to arrive at the plaza on time, little else could be said regarding their merits as a team. There was an invisible tension hanging in the air around them as they silently stood, or sat, near the front of the massive crowd, observing the stage as the representatives of each school arrived. Of all the cohorts in the academy, theirs was likely the least unified of the bunch. Whether it was a lack of common history, personality clashes, or just distrust, Zander’s pupils were more comfortable ignoring each other than they were forcing a half-hearted conversation. Not even the optimistic Yalen could force people to be friends overnight. It seemed like only he and Jocasta got along. Unbeknownst to them however, the team’s lack of camaraderie would soon lead to serious complications…
Jocasta didn’t see a lick of it. Sitting amid a forest of giants, she listened to the various oohs and aahs and overheard the excited conversation. She could’ve risen from her wheeled-chair and hovered there, but it would not do to bring too much attention upon herself. “So…” she twisted and looked up at Yalen. “Wishing you could stand on your tippy-toes right now?” she teased.
“I would make a witty reply, but I’d rather not stoop down to your level…” Yalen replied. The number of sassy women in his life was slowly turning him numb to japes regarding his insecurities. However, despite his growing bravado his face was still a bit red with embarrassment. “Some of these people look so exotic. I’ve never stepped foot outside the Twin Continents you know.”
“Yes, I’ve never stepped foot either,” Jocasta replied, deadpan. “Tell me, do the Eeaiko’s faces look all fishy? I’d look myself, but I’m playing little miss helpless here.”
It was at this point in the conversation that Carmillia decided to interject. Ever since they were introduced to each other, animosity between them had been brewing. Though it was unlike her to break her friendly and kind facade, the opportunity presented was far too tantalizing to forego.
“Appearances indeed are deceiving, Jocasta. I wouldn’t have guessed you had a talent for stand-up comedy,” said Carmillia, with the most charming smile she could muster.
Jocasta smiled back with nearly equal charm. “Oh but of course, hun, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She glanced Yalen’s way and visibly winked.
Being underestimated was normally considered a boon to Carmillia. It often created many gateways and paths but the idea that Jocasta deemed her insignificant felt intolerable.
“I’d be inclined to agree with you but then it'd mean we'd both be wrong.”
“Pffft,” Jocasta replied after a moment, grinning. “You win. You’re smarter than me. Hee hee.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyways, have the two holy teams beat each other up yet?” she prodded. “And Yalen, why aren’t you on one?”
“Jocasta, I’m sure the Holy See would only want the cream of the crop to represent her interests. Even if I had the will, I am simply unworthy.” Yalen shrugged.
She was all ready with some sort of witty riposte, but something about his reply struck Jocasta deep and true. She looked up at him and shook her head slightly. “You’re the worthiest person I know. Strength isn’t everything. Trust me.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Yalen clammed up for a moment, as he was taken aback by the unexpected compliment. “That… that means a lot to me.” He said with a growing smile. His focus on his tethered friend was too narrow for him to detect the animosity between the two girls.
With the conversation taking an awkward turn, Carmillia refrained from any additional towards Jocasta. That might have been unbecoming of me, she thought. Fortunately, this confirms my suspicionsl. Yalen was most definitely the key to Jocasta.
The silence droned on for several moments before Carmillia ended it with a polite cough. “On to the matter at hand, this year’s lineup for the Trials look formidable.” She motioned toward the representative of Vystha’s Favoured. “Tyrel’yrash’dichora,” she said, enunciating the Yasoi name with no issues. “A mage capable of both the temporal and dark schools of magic. Conveniently blessed with one of the highest RAS scores in gifted history.”
“Dichora…” murmured Evander pensively. “Is that not the name of another student at this school?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jocasta waved a hand dismissively. “I can deal with her easily enough. Besides, this town isn’t big enough for more cripples.” She paused. “We should be more worried about the Hegelans. I’ve heard they have ways of increasing one’s mana capacity and I would love to know how and by how much.”
Evander reacted to Jocasta’s dismissiveness with his face contorting into a pinched expression. He was annoyed. She casted away his question without any consideration. Noted. He would forgive her, but he would not forget. After all, they were a team…for now…so he chose to act like it.
Trypano had been silently standing by for the while. Small talk was not something she indulged in. With fingers steepled she listened on to the mild chitter chatter and talk. It didn’t really add up to much.
What she may have found interesting however, was the creeping chill that suddenly swept through the plaza. Carmillia and Yalen, healthy as could be mere moments ago, now looked strangely ill. Something or someone was exerting an invisible pressure that soon brought everyone with a modest RAS to their knees, and even the stronger participants were visibly uncomfortable. As this anomalous event transpired, it seemed like even their breath was beginning to crystallize as it left their lips.
To some extent, Yalen recognized the source of their discomfort. Jocasta created the same effect any time she cast at her full power. There was someone in this plaza who was even stronger than her. Stronger than Hugo. He wanted to say as much, but it was taking all his strength just to stay awake.
Jocasta furrowed her brow. “Someone’s really letting us know they’re here,” she grumbled, unmoving but casting about with her energy sense. She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of her attention. “Here and really strong.” Stronger than me, she thought with some alarm, stronger than the Paradigm. And they wanted people to know it. Aside from sunblessed, she could think of no others who would carry that much energy constantly around with them but for intimidation purposes. It would get exhausting before long.
Evander’s cheeks began to rise in color from white to red as his warm blood gathered to the surface to combat the layer of chill entering the room. He crossed his arms as his body became more rigid. The weight of a power tugged at him as he anchored his body in frustration to the discomforting pull, “How dramatic…” Evander stated. Anyone who felt compelled to demonstrate this amount of force on their environment while surrounded by kids was not impressing him, “...how unnecessary,” he rolled his eyes as if this display of power was beneath him.
Trypano herself took her left hand and brought her index and middle finger up to the side of her neck, checking her pulse.
“Heart rhythm regular, blood alkaline levels stable at seven point forty four, adrenal glands output at standard rate. Nerve activations operating as expected.” She muttered under her breath, evaluating her condition using her magical arts in tandem to measure out her state in a calculated manner. It seemed the pathology of this condition was originating from an outside exertion of magical force, likely quite powerful given its radius. For the time being however she did not weigh in on the comments regarding it.
Yalen eventually recovered from his fainting episode and put a hand on Jocasta’s roller to steady himself. Luckily he didn’t black out this time, having been strengthened considerably by his experiences in Torragon. “For a second there I thought I was going to lose my breakfast. How could someone that powerful go unannounced by the proctors?” He sent a mental probe out into the crowd to see if he could find the culprit, but whoever they were they had cut the flow of power. However, there was a considerable amount of movement in the crowd a few dozen feet away. The person responsible was likely to be found there.
That strange occurrence temporarily took the wind out of the team’s sails, and they remained silent for a time as the school’s guests continued to trickle in one portal after another. When the processions were finally over Zenith Upta took over the stage and began announcing the order of this year’s events. The Melon Derby was an unmovable staple and came as no surprise. The Dragon was the second event to be announced, and Jocasta’s eyes may have lit up a bit when Roses & Neskals was announced as the third. “We’ve got a good shot in that one, I think,” she remarked. Thin Air and Tug of Peace rounded things off to a nice and orderly five. People began speculating and pre-planning their strategies immediately, causing the plaza to fill with chatter that nearly drowned out the rest of the Zenith’s speech. This caused her to amplify her voice even louder, and what she revealed next was unprecedented.
“The moment that I ring this,” she declared, picking the bell up, “your team will have three minutes to find a second team - not from your school - to pair with. So long as you are in physical contact with them at the exact moment that your three minutes is up, you will be allied to them for the first event. Your points will be their points and vice versa. However, those teams who are unable to find partners will participate on their own, at a severe disadvantage.” The chatter in the crowd turned into a loud panic, as nobody had anticipated this development. Zander Mozaru’s cohort was no exception, and they began to bicker right away as soon as the bell rang.
The news of picking a team to pair with was surprising and exciting. More people, meant more opportunities to score. Evander looked at his team and immediately strove for interest toward the team he identified strong Revidians in, “I say we pair up with the Angels of Pentad, what say everyone else?”
“And find ourselves targets for the Varennes team?” Jocasta replied. She shook her head. “No thank you. The two Optimal teams always go after each other. I’d rather not have to obliterate any monks.” She glanced Yalen’s way and smiled puckishly. “No offense, brother Yalen.”
Was Jocasta scared? Why did she care if they were targeted, after all, she could obliterate them…her words. Evander sensed there was more hesitation than confidence in Jocasta’s comment, Did she talk big because she felt small? Evander then followed the line of conversing to Yalen who spoke next.
“None taken. And, while I agree with Evander’s choice, Jocasta has a point. If either of the Holy Sees make a target out of us we will face serious setbacks. They will possess magics that wouldn’t normally be trusted to the common wizardry. Does anyone else have a suggestion?” Yalen questioned.
Was Yalen not confident? Did he not believe in our team to deal with the Varennes, especially with the Angels of Pentad on our side? Evander continued to listen to Yalen ask for suggestions without offering any of his own, What indecisiveness… Evander’s patience began to wear thin.
“Hmm.” Trypano considered Yalen’s open inquiry. “I can agree that simply opting for a team simply off of their strength opens us to risk of being targeted by other teams. Given how our team is fairly competent already I would recommend a team that demonstrates cohesiveness both internally and externally.” She pursed her lips, deep in consideration.
“While I’m not specifically a specialist on Eeiako culture I am aware of what little is known regarding them, including their inherent ability to cast in union. It would be interesting to see how that could be incorporated into our existing skill-set.”
Was Trypano confused? To state that choosing a team solely on its strength opened them up to risks of being targeted by other teams, while offering a team suggestion based on their strength to cast in unity, and recommending a team she admittedly knew little about except for her own interest about the Eeaiko did not make for a reasonable suggestion. Evander was puzzled, How did I end up on a team that feared to be seen, indecisive, and confused?
“It’s a risky play if they can’t,” Jocasta responded, “but could pay off if we can make it work. If not, I’ll flex these RAS muscles of mine.” She giggled a bit and blushed.
Evander laughed and tagged off Jocasta, “It isn’t risky, it’s nonsense. You do not choose a team you know little about. The Angels of the Pentad and our team in this Trial together would be targeted, sure.” He paused to acknowledge Jocasta’s input, “But, are we afraid of being targeted? I mean if you do not believe in our ability to contend with the best, then why even contend at all?” Evander did not care if the Varennes targeted them, hell, he did not care if several teams targeted them, it was about challenging their abilities together, not evading the competition to ‘steal’ a win. He continued, “Let’s act as if there is a fire behind us and stop wailing on specifics, hell, I’d even take the passionate light-hearted Weggos at this point if it meant we made every other teams experience difficulty when they crossed us.” Evander looked to Yalen, “We have five trials, not one, and whether we win or lose this one, if we punch hard, we can leave every other team hesitating against us in the other rounds, even you Yalen, an average RAS monk might put the fear of Pentad in them before even running into you.” Evander’s passion for competition was not to win the battle, but the war, and the war was five trials, if they could get into the head of their opponents on trial one, then there would be more opportunities in later rounds.
Deep down Evander knew they had to make a decision, it did not matter who they got, as long as everyone felt that their team was going to win The Trials regardless of their pair, “We need to decide now!”
We’re going to get nowhere at this rate, thought Carmillia. A minute had already passed and she was not fond at all of any of their choices. The chilling pressure from earlier was enough of an indication that this year’s Trials was full of monsters that were on par or exceeded Jocasta.
Pairing up with a random run of the mill team was pointless but simultaneously working with a powerhouse and dealing with multiple Jocasta-level egos would likely be detrimental to their success.
No, Carmillia already had an ideal team in mind. One that was capable and cunning, one she could envision endless possibilities when working with.
She needed to get through Yalen. Jocasta would be more open to the suggestion if the decision was made through him. Trypano would agree if she did and Carmillia wagered she could handle Evander.
Another 30 seconds passed and at this point Evander was deep into a discussion with Jocasta and Trypano. It was at this point she made her move.
“Yalen, what do you think of Blaze of Glory?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Blaze of Glory? Er, I’m not sure what to say about them. I know very little about Weggos, and the rosters for the teams were very brief. I guess I’m not particularly interested?”
She could work with this. Carmillia sent tendrils of chemical energy into Yalen’s brain, making his already amicable personality more so.
“Likewise, they didn't catch my attention at first glance. But that was before I caught wind of the rumors,” she responded.
Yalen's interest was piqued at this point. He had turned his whole body towards her to focus fully on the conversation.
“Their RAS scores aren’t by any means huge. But their members all possess unique skill sets and personalities that I believe would work well in the Trials.”
She continued with a more detailed breakdown over each member. Jemar with his boundless energy. Moriah being the calm intellect. Brandi who somehow always gets the job done. Dante the mad genius and Jodi, the sneaky tethered.
“With three tethered, we'd possess a powerful advantage during the Melon Derby. Are you in?”
“I guess so.” Yalen answered without really wondering why. “We’re running out of time though. Where do you suppose they are?”
“South west of the Plaza, next to the Sawandi Biros. There's no guarantee that they're still there but my gut tells me they're still within the vicinity. Go, I'll keep the rest of them busy.”
In any event, Jocasta didn’t really need to be ‘kept busy.’ She had mostly checked out of a conversation that fast looked to be going nowhere. She was surrounded by idiots and egos: people used to thinking that they were the smartest in the room, regardless of whether they were or not. She reached under her seat cushion, where she often stored things, took out a roll of chicle, and popped some into her mouth. The tethered crossed her arms and let her eyes wander. It didn’t really matter who they allied with, truth be told. She would do as she needed to. They would succeed or fail based upon that.
Everyone’s apathy would work to Carmillia’s advantage, for Yalen found Blaze of Glory exactly where she said they would be. Yet, there seemed to be an issue regarding the Weggosi team.
“We need strength!” one was insisting. “The other stuff’s aight, but we’ve gotta be able to beat these teams man for man!”
“And woman for woman,” added a petite girl with hot pink afro–puffs.
“Jemar, I love you, man, but we’ve gotta find the smart people: the ones who know this place and have a plan.”
“Uh, guyyyz, isn’t like… the timer gonna end soon? Or something?” A tall, pretty girl with bleached blonde dreadlocks looked up from examining her nails.
The fifth member of the team, however, was headed straight for Yalen, and their eyes met. “I’m Moriah,” she said simply, holding her hand out. “We got thirty seconds left. We should ally or we’re both in deep shit.”
“I’m guessing you’re having trouble reaching a consensus?” Yalen asked the girl while shaking her hand. “The same goes for my team unfortunately. We’re standing over there.” He pointed to his four team mates, who were still in the middle of bickering. Carmillia caught his gaze and sent an innocent smile their way.
“Jus a word, fools,” Moriah shouted, “We got twenny seconds left. It’s this team or nobody.”
“Twenty!?”
“Bumba!”
“Ipte’s tits!”
Yalen cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to Carm. “Get everybody over here, and hurry! We’re out of time!” Whether by choice or via Carmillia’s manipulation, Mozaru’s cohort sprinted over to the Blaze of Glory team and began haphazardly grabbing whatever parts their hands could reach. The same could be said of their newfound allies. The pink-haired girl, tethered and unable to run as quickly as the others, was prey for Jocasta, who teleported over and laid a hand on her just as the bells began to ring. After a moment, Yalen looked about, only to notice a slight shift in the position of the other two tethered. “Yes, they froze it,” Jocasta confirmed.
“But we good, right?” asked one of the Weggosi. They didn’t even know each other’s names yet. Jocasta nodded. “We are, whatever that means.”
“Iiiiirie,” breathed another of their new allies.
“Blouse an’ skirt, that was a close one,” announced a third. “Les’ hope we married good, huh?”
Almost miraculously, the inclement weather from earlier cleared: rain to sun, heavy clouds to blue skies and a stiff, refreshing breeze that stretched flags out at full flutter and turned the hair of anyone who bothered to keep it long into writhing tangles. Seagulls, visiting from the nearby coast, circled and bleated, diving in at the periphery every so often and squabbling over scraps. It was an hour of mingling and hors d'oeuvres. Senior faculty - the Arch-Zenos Intaba, Latvar, Giarrone, Harrachora, Riu, Tojarra, and Nakamura - sat chatting amongst themselves on stage, beneath a sonic dampening bubble with Zenith Upta and, somewhat belatedly, the Paradigm. Servants and enchanted platters weaved among them and they indulged in all manner of culinary delights, but everybody really knew that it was the calm before the storm. If preparations were not quite frantic, it was perhaps because so many irons had already been placed into the fire and, nonetheless, much of the city bordered on the frantic. Then, there were ten minutes remaining. The Zenith called for silence and the group of over a thousand youths more or less delivered it, the final few stragglers stumbling back to the square from a nearby pub.
"You all well know the rules of these Trials," Claresse Upta announced, voice booming over the vast space. "And it has been judged that, perhaps, you know them a little bit too well." A hum of uneasy conversation rose within the crowd. "Many of you also know this city and where your assigned quarters with your masters are. For those who don't..." She snapped her fingers. All at once, a murder of crows seemed to materialize out of thin air. They swooped down into the crowd to the sounds of yelps and panicked cried, alighting on the arms and shoulders of one student from each group. In their beaks, they held rolled-up parchments. These were dropped either gracefully or unceremoniously, depending on how well they were received, before the animals flew off in a great squawking clattering horde. Once the group had settled down somewhat, she continued. "You will find personalized maps to the spaces which will serve as your temporary home bases. However..." and now, a twinkle entered her eye. "There are some rules that you may be expecting - that you may be used to - and, well, you can throw those out the window. This year, we will be trying something new. To that end," she continued, "the following rule changes will be in effect:
All melons of one hundred points or above are protected by the magic of your zenos and are virtually indestructible. Those of two thousand points or above are protected by your arch-zenos and myself.
The destruction of any melons may only be undertaken by using other melons. Thrown, acidified, packed with something destructive, that is entirely up to you.
To assist in this endeavour, there is a new type of melon this year: one hundred melon grenades are hidden about the school grounds. Upon contact with another melon, these tiny melons will cause its destruction and that of any other melon within a ten foot radius, excepting the five elemelons and the supreme.
Each melon grenade detonated by your team will cost you one hundred points. Each intact one is worth fifty. This is a tactical choice that you will have to make.
Finally, hidden about campus are ten 'Dark Melons'. These are distinct in appearance from all other fruits in today's event and they come from Nonin, Hanien, and Casong. You should be looking for small, purple, and very well-hidden melons, pointed at one end. Upon touching another melon, they will open a melon-destroying portal of twenty feet in radius, capable of eliminating any other fruit, including the five elemelons and the supreme.
You will have a choice to make, however: each Dark Melon is worth five hundred points if kept intact and, like grenades, will cost you one hundred points if destroyed.
She paused. "Oh yes, one final matter: the rule from years past against entering others' bases has been repealed. Rules against wanton property destruction remain in effect, and any indecent invasion of privacy or theft of all items but melons will be punishable by immediate disqualification. Otherwise, you are free to enter and wreak whatever havoc you please."
What followed was essentially an uproar, as plans and prep work were thrown into chaos. Less than the majority but more than a few looked - and even sounded - distinctly unhappy. Others cheered. Ruthlessly, the sound of the latter was increased by Arch-Zeno Riu and then all other noise appropriately muffled. "And on that note," the Zenith declared, "Let me not keep you a moment longer." The great clock behind her, on the tower of Balthazar Hall, struck two o'clock Oraff and its chimes echoed across the plaza. "Off with you, then! Off with you!" Zenith Upta shouted. "I shall see you all again in five hours!"
It took precisely ten seconds for Benedetto to make an ass of himself. "The destruction of any melons may only be undertaken by using other melons," he mimicked poorly. "Well how 'bout this!?" he crowed, spiking a one-pointer he'd grabbed into the ground. Instead of exploding into mush and fragments, however, and spraying his and his teammates' clothes, the fruit rebounded and smacked him in the face. Benny staggered backwards and both Marceline and a couple of the pirates they'd allied with burst out laughing. "Something fucking funny?" Benedetto snarled. "It was an experiment." His face was red and only the very real fear of what he might do if pushed allowed Penny to tamp down on her own laughter.
"We should split up," announced Anthal, the nominal leader of the group. "Four on defense - search n your way back to the house - the rest in pairs, roaming and targeting our best prospects." Penny was supposed to be with Marci on her way to the house because they were both slow, and the plaza was emptying out quickly - a near-stampede. That was when she got an idea. There was no rule against melons being within the square itself, and she was no more than a dozen feet from the fountain. Reaching out with the Kinetic Gift, she blew wind over the vines that snaked about it, rustling their leaves and pretty purple flowers. A small melon shape! She felt it or - rather - felt her wind encounter resistance and arc around it. Trying not to dash forward too obviously, she sat on the lip, set her crutches aside, and buried her hands in the leaves. "Already sitting down on the job," mocked Benny. "Typical fucking -"
"She has a melon, you fool," hissed Anjeluun, one of the yasoi. The others immediately grouped around Penny and her hand seized upon it. It was small - quite small - and, when she pulled it out, purple! And pointed at one end! "It's a dark!" she exclaimed, voice quiet, holding it tight against her chest. A couple of interlopers were already taking an interest. Then, Marci hobbled towards her, sinking low and enfolding Penny in a hug. "It's okay, you'll do fine, Penny. Don't let their stares get you down." She flashed angry eyes back at the members of the enemy teams and a couple of them drifted off awkwardly. "Put it up your dress," she whispered quickly. "Strap it to your leg. Hurry, while we're hugging."
The Perrenchwoman's eyes widened. It was something they had discussed: hiding melons in the empty side of her skirts. With all of the fancy magics on display, it was unlikely that people would suspect such a simple deception. Even if they did, would anybody really be so uncouth and indecent as to reach out and grope the apparent 'stump' of some poor amputee girl on the off-chance that they were right? It was awkward and not altogether convincing as a normal 'embrace', but Penny got the melon in place and strapped to her upper thigh. She pretended to wipe away some tears and she stood and grabbed her crutches. Five hundred points in the bag if I can just get you safely back to Zeno Solstice's. Let's go! The others were already running off to execute the rest of their strategy. Penny did not delay in following.
Zeno Born-on-Solstice's team, Lucky Seven, includes Benedetto Corvi, Penny Pellegrin, Marceline Escarra, Marlijn Vaanse, and Owain Vaanse. It is allied with Skull & Crossbones. Their plan includes sending four people searching for melons on their way back to their Zeno's house. One, Penny, has already gotten lucky and found a Dark Melon, so she is temporarily swappin with Owain to return her precious cargo. Marceline will use her tethered range to defend the house, detect the energy signatures of special melons when they're activated, and assist her teammates from afar. Jaxan will coordinate and shore up defenses, and Anjeluun will employ temporal and dark magics to hide and shield their melons where they can't be touched as well as opportuniistically snipin at other teams' temporal finds. The other six will split into pairs and prioritize the Cathedral, the Proving Grounds, and Hedda's Lake, in the Arboretum. They intend to have their stronger member lead, with a stealthy partner - Marlijn, Revan, and Enoxi - following discreetly or stealthed as a secret weapon. The stronger members (Benedetto, Anthal, and Penny), likely able to outpull opponents in a tug of war, will use any elemelons that they find, if fortunate enough, as weapons against opposing players, held telekinetically.
Melon Derby Scoring
This is a scored and ranked event, with point totals for a good finish being reflected on the leaderboard. These final scores are not the same as in-event scoring. They will be as follows:
First Place: 50 points
Second Place: 40 points
Third Place: 35 points
Fourth Place: 30 points
Fifth Place: 25 points
Sixth to Tenth Place: 20 points
Eleventh to Twenty-Fifth Place: 10 points
Twenty-Fifth to Fiftieth: 5 points
All Other Finishers: 2 points
Disqualified: 0 points
Disqualified (Dangerous Play): -5 points
Allied teams will share rankings. Hence, there are only 128 ranks for this event. In the event of a tie between two alliances (a total of four teams), both will receive the designated point total and the next rank below will be skipped.
Rules & Resources
Please find a detailed map of the city for the upcoming Melon Derby below. The second map details where your home bbases are located. All of you will begin in the plaza north of Balthazar Hall. Also, take a look at the Guest Teams Guide for information on your allied teams, as well as the Leaderboard to stay up to date on scoring. You will be responsible for playing out your interactions with allied teams unless I state otherwise.
Trial One: The Great Melon Derby
With the holiday Melon Day having just ended, thousands of melons flood the city of Ersand'Enise. Most years, the number comes in just north of 20,000. This year, the exact total is 20,716, mostly divided between the five 'elemental' melon types of firemelon, watermelon, thundermelon, terramelon, and cloudmelon.
Precisely one of each type is special: created through binding magic and seeded with a spell that will trigger only once it is picked up by someone with a RAS of 5.00 or above or magic requiring that threshold is used upon it. Each elemelon's spell will correspond to its elemental type: the firemelon will scald and radiate intense heat, the watermelon will splash and spray water, the thundermelon will visibly zap and shock, the terramelon will rapidly grow long, lashing vines and spray dirt, and the cloudmelon will buffet its bearer and surrounding area with strong gusts of wind. They will continue to do this as long as they are held in hand or directly by magic. One further melon, of a type that matches the element of the deity currently in ascendance, is the 'Melon Supreme'. It is seeded with a temporal magic spell that will freeze time for all but its holder for precisely two minutes. It will also send out a massive beam of energy into sky, marking the position where it was picked up. It is strongly recommended that its bearer use their two free minutes to beat a hasty retreat to somewhere safer. However, every time after this, whenever it is set down or transferred to another player, the beam will shoot upwards again, revealing its position.
Each melon is worth a particular number of points, with the special 'elemelons' being worth the most. Below is a guide to these:
All standard melons (there are 20,050) are worth 1 point. These give no special indication. They are, however, noticeably tougher than they should be and... somewhat bouncy.
Some larger melons (there are 500) are worth 10 points. These have a bell hidden inside and will jingle. The bells have a specific magic signature and are very hard to counterfeit. They are also rather tough and bouncy.
Melon grenades (there are 100) are special. They are worth 50 points if preserved, but may also explode upon contact with another melon and cause the destruction of all melons below elemelon level within a ten foot radius. However, destroying a melon grenade will cost your team 100 points.
A small number of very large melons (there are 50) are worth 100 points. These have a special magic item bound inside of them that will release a pleasant and pungent aroma whenever they are handled. Also very hard to counterfeit and nearly unbreakable without using melon grenades or dark melons.
Ten rare dark melons from Callanast are each worth 500 points and appear different from all other melons. More powerful than grenades, they will cause melons within a radius of twenty feet, including elemelons and the supreme, to disappear into a dark portal and [REDACTED]. If destroyed, dark melons will cost your team 100 points.
The five 'elemelons' are each worth 2000 points and are essentially indestructible. These will have the effects described in the previous paragraph, depending on the element that they represent.
The one Melon Supreme is worth a mighty 10,000 points. For this year, it is virtually indestructible. It is generally considered an all-but automatic win. Only twice in history has a team finished with this melon in its possession and not won.
Teams may acquire melons by all and any means possible, barring direct assault causing serious bodily harm against their opponents or non-participants. They may lie, cheat, steal, bribe, and destroy at will and often do. Targeting opponents' melons to deny them points is a tried and true tactic and the teams' home bases (their Zeno's house) are often temporarily turned into veritable fortresses. All melons acquired by a team must be deposited at their home base by the time the five hours are up and the bells ring in order to count for scoring purposes.
In general, the rule with regards to cheating is, 'cheat in style.' Counterfeit melons, created either through binding or a mix of chemical and greengrowth abilities need to be able to seamlessly pass as the real thing. Get busted and any fake melons you're caught with will cost your team five points each. Rough someone up? That's a 25 point penalty, though some teams tactically decide to eat it. As for sneaking into an enemy team's home base? New for this year, you're now allowed to try! However, any severe or life-threatening injuries that you cause that can't be quickly healed through binding will result in immediate disqualification. Just... don't be that edgy. It's not worth it.
As for magic or abilities that move a melon through time and interdimensional space? Every time that an elemelon or he supreme is moved through temporal magic, it will weaken. The first will make it vulnerable to normal melon grenades. The second will render it equal to a one-point melon in durability. The third will leave it equal to a regular melon. A fourth will destroy it. For Melons moved outside of this dimension, they will become heavier and heavier the longer that they remain outside of it, trying to 'pull' themselves back in. Anybody holding one will need to engage in a series of escalating roll checks each posting window in the discord thread. These melons will also need to be constantly held, automatically returning if let go.
When the derby ends and melons are totaled and inspected, they must be in a condition judged to be 'consumable' as part of a healthy meal in order to earn their team points. Destroyed, badly damaged, obvious cheat, or rotten melons will not count, regardless of which type they are (including the elemelons and the supreme). The five teams with the highest point totals will occupy the podium for this event. Allied teams will share the same ranking.
Posting for this Cycle
The great Melon Derby will last for two cycles in total. Each team may post one hidden strategy of up to 500 words in their group-specific channel on discord, which may contain elements they do not wish to be publicly viewable. Beginning at 12:00 AM GMT-4 on Wednesday, October 12, and ending at 11:59 PM on Sunday October 16, a thread titled "The Great Melon Derby" will be open on our discord. Any player may post their tactics of up to 300 words in the thread up to twice per day, detailing their intended actions. To avoid more active players monopolizing this opportunity, you must wait for at least three other players to post after you (two of whom must not be on your team) before posting again. Exceptions will be allowed if you and an opposing player are interacting directly. Please refer to the map in the hider above and tag your position and/or route at the bottom of these posts. Unless interruptions occur, each tactical post in the discord thread will be assumed to cover roughly half an hour. Try to keep your actions reasonable for this amount of time. Finally, if a player is using an ability that allows for stealth and is reasonably competent with it, they will not need to publicly reveal their coordinates. These should instead be DMed to me. Other characters may roll, as stated in their posts, for stealth detection and I will set a threshold for that if they are near any stealthed characters.
Tension set. Teams paired. Gunboat Diplomats are ready to take a “W” with Blazy of Glory. The two teams waited in Mozaru’s home. Each member conversed about plans before the Great Melon Derby officially began. Evander approached a quiet Weggosi woman sitting in a red wing chair; he shoulders spread out, cool as a cucumber. Her eyes played along with the activity in the room before politely being interrupted by Evander’s wave. He leaned in from Moriah’s peripheral vision, “hi!” Moriah casually drifted her eyes to meet Evander; she sighed a little, "wha me?"
Her eyes told Evander she was indifferent to whatever was about to happen. He continued by introducing himself, “My name is Evander,” following up with a question, “are you, Moriah?” He only guessed because he overheard one of her teammates earlier identifying her in a conversation.
Moriah felt it best if this were a member of the team they were to work with that it’d be best to get formalities out of the way, “no, it di oddah gyal inna di chair.” She looked over at Jocasta. A true lesson for Evander in Moriah’s dry sense of humor, a lesson almost over his head. He followed Moriah’s eyes to Jocasta and then cocked it back to Moriah’s eyes, cracking a smile before returning his joke, “funny, and I am the Prince of Revidia.” Moriah’s eyes widened, then burst into laughter. At least he had successfully broken the ice, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about her response. Could she not believe Evander could be such a person? His family certainly wanted to prove otherwise.
The two exchanged witty banter back and forth until Evander proposed they tag up before the melon derby officially started, [color=[color=d4af37]“I think we’d make a good team out there, why don’t we tag up, we will be better at defending the melons we find if we stick together.”[/color] Moriah was not opposed. She leaned more toward a calm nature rather than taking the lead if Evander wanted the responsibility, he could have it.
Moriah nodded,“sure.” As the two decided to team up, the sound of the Great Melon Derby rang. All the teams ignited off the line from their homes, except Jocasta, who stayed to defend all the grubby little robbing cats that might stray too far inside Zeno Mozaru’s den.
Melon Derby: Missed Opportunity
(Proving Grounds)
Moriah and Evander had checked the Terrace of Grapes when they spotted a beacon in the distance toward The Overlook. Their team decided that when a melon was grabbed, they would beacon it thanks to some of their tethered abilities. It would show everyone that melon was in play. Evander looked to Moriah,“First one there?” Moriah nodded and bolted before Evander recognized she heard him. The two raced toward the Overlook, hoping to take a prized melon from one of the competing teams. When they arrived, they were struck by an illusion of some sort. They could not make heads or tails of who to follow. Instead, they stood there dumbfounded.
Evander posed his thought out loud to Moirah after feeling disheartened to get to the melon fast enough, “Ya know, I think it’d be wiser if we checked out the houses instead of running after melons all day and night.” Moriah did not care what they did so long as they contributed a little to the team’s effort. Her arms were crossed, and even she felt a little frustrated at missing out on a snatch and grab, but her cool, level-headed personality was not far behind in quenching whatever fire may have started to burn within her. She nodded to Evander, and they both made their way to Zeno Zemana’s house first.
Melon Derby: Stealthy and Styled
(Zeno Zemana's House)
Moriah and Evander had stalked outside of Zeno Zemana’s house. They noted the garden of vines. Moriah senses they were manipulated by magic, “wi need fi be careful eff wi guh inna there” Evander tilted his head at Moriah curiously,“well yeah, but what are you saying?” Moriah pointed at the garden, “It's dangerous.” Evander found a stick and tossed it into the garden. The garden as expected began to respond and coil around the stick until determined it was not a threat and released it. The two heard Ayla and Ashon begin arriving and took cover.
Ayla and Ashon walked right up the door, opening it, and stood at the front entrance. Evander watched as Ayla put the melon down to her side while engaging in an argument.
“Now or never huh?” Evander said rhetorically to Moriah. Moriah supported, “Yuh get dis.” Evander cautiously approached the side of the house. He tipped-toed across the garden with dance-like balance and skill. When one foot pressed down too hard, he shifted his weight to the other. A skillful ballet to see, if anyone did, he was not only moving with grace but silence. All those years of practicing his martial art back home had paid off. Finally, he arrived at the doorway. Peeling his hands inside, he snatched the melon while the whole team was distracted by their bickering. He tried to leave as quietly as he arrived. Once he got far enough away, he bolted, and Moriah followed.
Melon Derby: House of Chaos (pt. 1)
(Zeno Fades-In-Moonlight's House)
Evander and Moriah had escaped Zeno Zemana’s house with a shiny melon. Moriah realized that the melon was a farce. It was a part of their group’s plan when discovering the supreme. Moriah took the melon from Evander’s hand to give it a good weight, “Yuh stole di wrong one yuh goof.” Evander looked puzzled for a moment,“Is that?” Moriah interrupted, “our fake.”
If this were their first time meeting, Evander would have broken his etiquette, instead, he remained calm, “Don’t interrupt me.” Moriah slightly surprised at her partner's snappy response kept her cool as she always had, her head tilting to one side, bottom lip bunching, and shrugging one shoulder as if to say, meh ok.
The two slipped into the night to go to Zeno Fades-In-Moonlight’s house. Arriving, the two conducted a little reconnaissance before finding a way inside. Evander sensed small energy radiations from within the house but could not determine what they were. When they turned the corner to the front of the house, a Yasoi boy was at the front door.
Evander looked back to Moriah as they inched their way back to the side of the house,“the front’s probably not the best idea.” Moriah looked up, “Wah bout di roof?” She pointed. Evander nodded,“Yeah, the chimney could be our way in.” Evander and Moriah climbed up to the roof to spot whether or not the chimney would be accessible. Reaching the chimney, Evander poked his head down and could see slight dims of light penetrating the chimney shaft at the floor.
“Okay I will go down to check it out, if I run into any trouble pull me out.” Evander picked himself up over the wall of the chimney, before he shimmied down, Moriah graced his forearm with hers. There was a moment of connection, Evander looked into Moriah’s eyes, then she broke it by replying, “Yuh kno mi a guh haffi pull yuh out right?” Evander snarled under his breath, “We will see.” He proceeded to head down the chimney.
Melon Derby: House of Chaos
(Zeno Fades-In-Moonlight's House)
Evander shot down the chimney with his arms crossed. He was lean enough to fit and applied enough of his Force gift to soften his landing. Both feet touched softly at the same time. It was a 10/10 if this were judged to his benefit; no one saw him or heard him. He slipped out of the fireplace tip-toeing across the wall, only a few steps in, and he was noticed. How? He thought he had been quiet. Evander looked down, noticing black soot following him. He felt like an idiot, duh…what chimney wouldn’t have soot. A girl now stood with a darting glare at Evander. The darkness of the room slightly obscured her face. The features he noticed were long dark hair, bright eyes reflecting from the light penetrating the windows, fair skin, and a feminine jawline.
Without thinking, Evander thought to blind her to make a quick escape into one of the rooms. He knew someone else was behind the front door, and if he bought himself some time, maybe that person would become her focus by default of losing Evander in sight. Evander attempted to spark his Arcane gift, but his fingers to draw and channel slipped from the soot. Instead of bright light, it was a dim fizzle with soot particles pushed into the air. The girl threw a bottle at him with what appeared to be her best effort, but the bottle ended up at his foot, crashing on the ground in front of him. Quickly, she transformed the broken glass into a liquid that dissolved into knock-out gas. Evander felt some of the knock-out gases effects, and yet he still had the wits about him to gain space from it before it completely shut him down. Evander winked at her to let her know this wouldn’t be easy for her, and he welcomed the challenge.
He raised and extended his hand to draw on his Magnetic ability. Evander wanted to pull on her belt buckle at the waist to drag her into the gas she had created. He was unsuccessful at his aim and instead caught her bracelet. The girl felt a tug on her wrist and reacted by releasing the bracelet from her hand, stopping any influence Evander was tugging at. The door then opened, and the Yasoi spotted earlier was now on the other side of this girl. Without hesitating, the girl’s instincts kicked in, and she reacted to the new intruder by tossing another knock-out bottle. The Yasoi defended well enough against it, and in return, fire tossed a wire he manipulated magnetically to wrap up the girl partially. Evander saw this as an opportunity to de-escalate the fight because some of him rebelled against this new unfolding of events. He did not like the idea of fighting a girl at an advantage. Two against one is not the chivalrous way. Evander thought if he could tighten the wire, he could de-escalate the fight and put an end to it. He reached out using his magnetic ability to take control of the wire, and as he gained control and tightened, the wire broke. She was free.
The fight descended into chaos from there. All sorts of people came storming into the home to defend and fight. Evander felt, at this point, the raid was in vain. He needed to get out and out fast. His first attempt was unsuccessful as he slipped on a brick as he tried to escape, then a newcomer Ingrid used her Force to pick him up and slam him as he attempted the second escape. Evander was laid out, slowly losing consciousness. His grit to stay up prevailed, and he was able to get up, back up to the fireplace as everyone began fighting one another and forgetting about him. Evander felt the grip of Moriah, who pulled him up into the fireplace, and the two shimmied out, escaping back to Zeno Mozaru’s house.
Melon Derby: Aftermath
(Zeno Mozaru's House)
Evander and Moriah were back in the living room of Zeno Mozaru’s home. Evander was slumped in a seat, legs spread, his right arm relaxed, and his face bruised. Moriah made an ice pack bag using her binding and chemical gift. She tossed it to Evander, who had no will to catch it. Hitting his thigh, he grabbed it with his left hand and raised it to his face.
“The nerve of that woman,” Evander stated with condemnation in his voice. Moriah cocked her head to the side, “Wah nerve?” Evander elaborated,“I tried getting out of there, clearly no longer acting as a threat compared to the other hundred people flooding the place, and instead of letting me leave and making it easier on their defense, I get tossed by that Eskand bitch.” Evander lowered his hand, “Eskand…what a bunch of savages, I don't know why they are even allowed here, if they can't get their country right...what makes anyone think they'll get games right.” Moriah broke Evander’s rant with some truth, “Did wi nuh there tuh steal dem melons?” His eyes widened, and he slumped a little. She continued, “It nuh fair tuh tap a thief?” Her last question dripped with rhetorical sentiments. Evander sighed,“I guess it’s fair.” Moriah smiled, “Yuh always act yuh age?” Evander chuckled. Her sarcasm was welcomed. If it were someone else, he’d have challenged them there, but Moriah had more than shown her worth to be an ally on campus…something Evander was beginning to realize he’d need more of. Plus, he knew she was right; he overreacted, which is not good for a noble like himself. Deep inside, there was truth in the words he spoke out loud. There was a disdain for Eskandish blood.
He raised the ice pack once more, beware low-blood, next time, you will burn…when you least expect it.
Evander teams up with Moriah from Blaze of Glory.
Evander and Moriah do not get to Ayla and Ashon in time at Proving Grounds.
Evander and Moriah steal from Ayla back at Zeno Zemana's house.
Evander and Moriah raid Zeno Fades-In-Moonlight's house.
Evander breaks in through the chimney and is spotted by Dory.
Dory and Evander fight before Chad enters.
Chad, Dory, and Evander are all in a fight.
More actors begin to enter the house and fight.
Too many actions to write about, Evander decides to leave.
Evander is slammed before he can escape by Ingrid.
Evander is knocked out but regains consciousness and escapes with the help of Moriah.
Evander is licking up his wounds while Moriah checks his attitude.
The weeks have been tense as Ayla has been frantically preparing. From questioning her friends, to trips out into the city upon Gina. It seems she is seeking something as she makes her way around the city. Her tension level appears to be even greater than the impending attack of the Royal Sand Wyrm.
In the morning, you are greeted with a knock on the door as a courtier brings a parchment to your attention.
The Manson de las Mil Ventanas, or commonly known as the Mansion of a Thousand Windows. This is a beautiful large property sheltered from the road, and known to be the residence of King Sancho of Torragon whilst he attends the Conclave of Thrones.
To be granted permission to enter as a guest would be viewed as an honour, especially for those on the other side of the alliance. As a guest, it is expected you will make a great effort in your appearance, adorning appropriate formal attire expected of one's station, with those below noble are expected to dress above their peers in order not to cause offence.
For those who accept the summons and present the letter, they will find their entrance into the grounds of the mansion. The area is filled with vibrant green, with flora transplanted from native Torragon and brought to root and carefully crafted. Green foliage adorning the tall white-washed walls as colourful flowers sprout from the buds. Tall Cork oak trees shade the mansion’s view from the road with a prominent purple Jacaranda tree in the centre of the courtyard. Smaller trees of almond, fig, and lemon laden with fruit give the impression of bountiful wealth. The outside of the building is surrounded by a well maintained pool, with archways to curtain-lined entrances for guests to use in hot weather to bathe. Columns rise up from the ground to the terracotta laden roof in Avincian classical style to denote learning and sophistication, with the round fort tower-like style of the halls as a subtle display of dominating power and strength. The key feature of what the Mansion is named after, the array of colourful stained glass windows, each depicting a picture of Tourrare history, from humble but strong steppe folk to the mighty empire they have founded today.
As the doors open to the entrance hall, the bright light of the sun shines through creating a rainbow effect which softens as the eyes adjust to the lighting inside. The biros will notice they are not the first to arrive, with staff already waiting upon other guests, and food travelling through to the main hall to ensure tables are laden with food, as the servants prepare a banquet. for those wishing to dine. Ayla is by the door, enthusiastically greeting her friends, and even guests they may have brought along with them. Beyond the initial greetings and settling down, there is a chime being rung against the glass.
A loud voice booms through the hall. “Presenting the host, Duquesa Azahara of House Arslan”.
Attention is focused on the one Ayla refers to as “Ma”, better known as Lady Azahara, mother of Ayla Arslan. Wearing a beautiful long gown of deep purple, the taller and older Arslan is adorned with jewellery and ornaments that overshadows the style typically worn by her daughter, as to give her a prominent regal appearance. If you were to compare the daughter and the mother, it would appear that Ayla is truly a ‘Mini-Me’.
Azahara greets the guests as they enter the room one by one, each guest has their name spoken aloud then formally greeted. Ayla takes a head-count of all those present. “Thank you for accepting my invitation, glad that so many of you were able to make it. When you go through, your name would be announced. Pay your respects to Ma, then walk in. They should be allowing you to dine shortly, free food, yay!”. She smiles widely, giggling, excited to be entering with some of the friends she has made during these weeks at the academy.
The loud voice booms. “Now presenting, Lady Ayla Arslan, and her guests, Biros from Academy of Thaumaturgy…”
As Ayla steps through, she is quietly exchanging a few words with her mother. A look of concern appears on Ayla’s face, as only the words which may be overheard: “... not the only one who is disappointed. Now make yourself presentable and settle your friends into their places.”
As each of the biros come forward to greet the host, they are each met in a pleasant and polite manner. “Thank you for being able to attend our banquet this evening”, the pleasant mask hides her true expression, and those who think they may perceive beyond it may be confused by the idea that it may be hiding a smile.
The guests continue to come through, various nobility and prominent figures in the area are announced and enter through the doors, a few of the names may be recognised and expected to attend such an gathering. Ayla supports the hostess, trying to settle her friends at a suitable table. “There are a few contacts around the room and opportunities, and there is fine food being served. Help yourselves to opportunities, though try not to do anything that may reflect badly upon myself.”
As the welcome starts to draw to the close, there is one last name being announced. The voice boomed, “Presenting Maura Mercador of Varrahasta”.
At the doorway is an auburn long-haired girl in a rollerchair, adorned in jewellery in the style of Ayla’s own, features enhanced with make-up, and wearing a beautiful gown dress which appeared perfectly groomed as if attended to like a doll.
The girl smiles as she makes her way towards the table the biros are at, the wheels moving akin to Jocasta’s own through the use of kinetic magic. There is an appearance of an eerie silence, akin to a calm before a storm, as she approaches the table, the spell broken as she speaks in a soft, sweet, sing-song manner. “Is there room for one more at this table?”
This was the moment the storm erupted, as Ayla cast herself towards Maura, almost diving upon the poor girl to give her best friend the biggest hug that could have been mustered in that moment. Even Maura looked shocked as she freezes for a moment, giving a moment to start curling her arms around the lion cub, holding her tightly in return as she strokes her arms upon her back. Ayla was sobbing hard as tears rolled down her cheeks as she was being comforted, gently being hushed and comforted by Maura. “... what kind of greeting is this, what has got you upset little cub. Are these friends of yours bullying you?” She gives a playful look at those gathered, her eyes focusing upon one of the group for a moment, whispering a tease into Ayla’s ear, “Need me to beat up the one with the dark hair for you? She wouldn’t stand a chance, this chair wouldn’t stop me.” Ayla couldn’t help but to offer a soft laugh at the idea of Maura even harming a fly, nevermind finding herself in a sparring match against Zarina. She uses the opportunity to gather her thoughts and emotions together after her embarrassing display. Maura whispers towards her as Ayla smoothes out the crumpled dress, turning around for introductions. “This is my best friend since childhood, Maura. Her family are merchants who operate from Varrahasta bringing in the northern ReTan trade from Virang and Malabash, then bringing it across the Ensolin sea to Revidia and Ersand'Enise.”
The Letter
Yalen That morning Yalen had done something quite out of the ordinary for him: He took off his holy vestments. Carrying out the daily training prescribed to him by his sister was a burdensome task, and the heavy robes of the monastic order were beginning to get in the way. Dressed in only a linen shirt and a pair of drawstring pants, the young monk looked more like the son of a man-at-arms than a Brother of Sunset.
Colette had been called away to deal with an arrest warrant and wasn't able to accompany him today, so he was currently practising sword swings in front of his room. He had no intention of mastering the blade, but according to his sister it was an excellent upper body workout, so it became a kind of homework for him to do when she wasn't around. For a born and raised fighting man who handled such weapons since childhood, the 5 pound longsword may have felt like a natural extension of their body. For the sheltered boy known as Yalen Castel, it was anything but. After cutting the air repetitively for a good thirty minutes his shoulders were starting to ache, and the skin of his uncalloused hands was reddened and sore.
When he was finally too tired to raise the sword over his head, Yalen dumped the blunt practice weapon on the ground unceremoniously. It was time for a break. He picked up a bucket of water and thoroughly chilled it with arcane magic before dumping it over his head. His body had grown hot from exertion, so the warm outdoor breeze felt like ice when it touched his wet skin.
The sound of approaching footsteps caused Yalen's head to turn. A well dressed gentleman was on a direct approach with a sealed roll of parchment in hand.
"Hail fellow, well met! I apologise for interrupting your training, but might you be Brother Castel?" The courtier greeted him. Yalen swept his bangs away and wiped the water out of his eyes.
"I am. Is there something you need sir?"
The man held out the roll of paper, which the teen accepted after wiping his hand dry on his pants. "The honourable Duque Arslan invites Yalen Castel to the Manson de las Mil Ventanas for an audience."
Yalen's face twisted in confusion. Arslan...? It took a few seconds for him to suddenly perk up. Oh! That's Ayla's family.
"Thank you for delivering this message to me. If I may ask, where is this... manson?" The Miattan native questioned, unfamiliar with the words used by the courtier. The man gave a shallow bow.
"Pardon my hastiness Brother. Allow me to clarify. The young Lady has gained you entrance to the Mansion of a Thousand Windows. It is the residence owned by King Sancho of Torragon. You may have passed it several times while walking around the city - It's hard to miss all the stained glass."
Yalen crossed his arms and nodded. He did in fact know where the mansion was. He also knew that the property was heavily quarantined and surrounded by guards. Often he was too busy speed walking past the security to get a good look at the place.
"If I have been invited to such a prestigious gathering, then it would be above my station to refuse. Please let Lady Ayla know that I will be there."
Dory The morning was rather ordinary for the young Feskan, taking some of her baked treats as her breakfast. Seeing her smile again was a sign or relief to everyone around her. Worsened as she found a letter among the mail she had received.
‘Dear Dorothea,
Your père and I have received your letters. I am writing this letter back as I am visiting Ersand’Enise soon. I must say that your choice in suitors is rather poor. To think ma fille would choose to be with someone of such low standing. I shall not accept such a thing!
Luckily for you, I was caring enough to find someone more suitable for you. I think you would be quite fond of him too. His name is Maurice de Arroux, heir to the duchy of Arroux. The Arroux have always been somewhat a thorn into the backs of the Herbeumont and with this we could make the family subservient towards ours.
And aside from that, I will bring Karl with me too to keep a better eye on you. I can’t have you cancel this important meeting after all. She will also be attending the school from now on.
All my care, Marie de Herbeumont’
“Verdammt Mutti, can’t you at least let me choose my own suitor?” The Feskan was practically shaking from the news, to think she’d dare to ruin her school life this far from home. “Filthy puta-Agh!... Hure! I will have a word with her on how she should address Manfred.”
A soft knock could be heard as an apologetic voice came from the other side. “Bad time?”
Hearing an unfamiliar voice at the door snapped the Feskan back to reality. “No, not at all, I’ll be there in a moment.” walking towards the door and opening it to see what news would be awaiting her. In the opening would stand a well dressed fellow. “Good day to you, miss. I hope I was not interrupting something important.” The man bowed courteously
Dory let out a rather annoyed sigh. “No need to be so formal, I am barely a noble to begin with.” The girl could not handle the formal behaviour, although this might mostly be due to a small hangover from last night.
The courtier looked rather shocked. “No miss, I insist! It is proper etiquette to be formal.” The man quickly remembered why he was at the door to begin with and composed himself once more. “Ahem… Miss Hohnstein, the virtuous Duque Arslan has invited you for an audience at the Manson de las Mil Ventanas”
“Manson de le Mille Venta?” Dory could not help but chuckle upon hearing it. “It must be quite draughty then, at least if it truly has a thousand winds going through it.”
The courtier could not truly see the fun in it as he let out an unamused cough. “It is the residence of the great King Sancho of Torragon whenever he’s in the area.”
The word king rang a bell inside Dory’s mind; her eyes practically showed her intent. “Does that mean a lot of influential people will be attending too?”
The courtier, showing the parchment to her before answering. “There will be, however, the Arslan family will be the main focus, of course.” Giving the Feskan the Parchment. “Please be sure to wear your finest silk.” The courtier noted before bowing and leaving.
After closing the door, Dory quickly went towards her globe and looked for Torragon. “All the way over there?... What use will they serve me and my people? I guess having a friend in Duque Arslan might not be the worst thing…. Arslan?... Arslan…” After some thinking she finally realised. “Is this Ayla’s family?... Perhaps it might be best to go for her than for my own ends.”
Remembering all the things Ayla said during the sleepover made her selfish thoughts fade from her mind. “Bah! Guess I’ll have to pull out this stupid dress maman gave me..”
Manfred Manfred rolled over in bed. The hours of Shune were at an end and those of Oraff beginning. Such had been his routine for the past week. It was all so empty, so pointless. How evil his parents truly were, how preoccupied with her own problems Dory was, and how useless he'd been as one who was supposed to protect her. She'd nearly died at the hands to that Eskandish beast. Eun-ji was gone too: called back to distant Tan Keoul on urgent business, and he could not help but feel so much had been lost along with her. Worst of all, though, was that ghastly little thing called 'Marceline' that had overwritten his dear Nina.
He reached for the stein of warm beer by his bedside and emptied it into his mouth, only a bit trickling down the stubble of his chin. He'd received a fancy invitation from Dory as her plus-one and it was still among the clutter on his nightstand. Manfred shook his head. Have some damned pride. Pull yourself together, you fool!
He stumbled over to his wash basin and splashed some cool water on his face, blinking a couple of times. There was a scratching at his door and Manfred padded over to open it. "Kurbis," he purred, and so did his cat. "Who's a big sucky pumpkin?" The large orange ragamuffin rubbed up against his leg, enjoying some scritches, before flopping onto his side and letting out a soft, "mrrrt." Manfred knelt and simply petted his cat for a little while, letting the time pass, just making some other living thing happy. I'm sorry your master is such a loser, little one, he thought. He could feel the ghost of some energy, some determination, trickle into your veins. I will try harder, he attempted to convince himself. I will do better.
So Manfred Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau picked himself up off of the ground, cleaned himself up, and dressed in his very finest clothes. He'd been born the second son of a Markgraf, after all. He could be that for a few hours, for Dory, for her friend Ayla and, maybe, truly for himself.
Jocasta It hadn't bothered Jocasta in the past. So many times, she'd worn a mask, literal or figurative. She'd always been what she'd needed to be... for others, and perhaps that was the problem. It had never been for herself, not until a few weeks ago, when she had returned to the Refuge. There, she could live for herself and not have a growing list of obligations. She cared for people, not for the responsibilities that they brought.
Sitting up in bed, she yawned and stretched, rolling her neck a couple of times. The morning warmth of Inner Torragon leeched in through the stone and the windows of San Agustin de las Arenas. There were some days when she stayed, but she didn't for most. It had also been a solid week since she had taken in some of a white aberration and, once again found herself greeted by the blessed lack of pins and needles at her sensation line. "Oh, blessed day," she breathed, calling upon the Gift to bypass most of the drudgery of waking, dressing, and general movement. Within five minutes, she was outside, on the terrace, letting the desert sun warm her and enjoying a cup of fresh-squeezed orange juice from Gran Naranja. Five more, and she was back in her room in Ersand'Enise.
Somebody was knocking. No sooner has Jocasta's wheels settled upon the floor, then there came a second knock, or perhaps it was well into the sequence. She raced to the door, taking the briefest of moments to collect herself before opening it. She looked out upon an empty hallway, but a twist of her head revealed a messenger, striding away from her room. "Sir!" she called out, "Sir, I'm here. Sorry for my tardiness. I was still dressing."
He twisted and, upon seeing her, hurried at back as quickly as decorum would allow. "My apologies, milady. Had I known of your... condition, I -"
She held up her hand. "No need, for you did not, and it is no excuse. I should have at least called out. I accept them anyhow, in the spirit they were intended." The letter bore the seal of Arslan.
Ingrid Ingrid had been in her dorm running experiments on a wide variety of ores, minerals, ingots, stones, and all manner of things. She was carefully collecting data on things along the lines on density, heating, and cooling capabilities. And how they differ from other ores or refined metals from many different places. When suddenly there was a knock at her door. Eirik answered as Ingrid has been growing increasingly stressed and would rather her guard deal with people.
Eirik entered the room in the usual professional manner. He held a scroll to his side and opened it to read aloud to Ingrid. He rolled up the scroll and handed it to Ingrid
Ingrid grabbed it with some haste out of his hand, almost believing this to be a joke. A face of surprise and worry came over her face, "I really am being invited to the Mansion of a Thousand Windows…" her voice trailing off, seemingly already calculating the risks of going
Eirik disrupted Ingrid's thoughts by plainly stating, "Seems like your friend wants you to come to a party her family is hosting."
Ingrid shrugged like she was still indecisive, "But what would other Eskandish people say if I went to that party, and I made a muck of it then it would hurt Ayla's standing. And-"
Eirik raised his voice to overtake the conversation, "I'm sure she is well aware of the potential risks of inviting you. But she did. So go. Do not disappoint the little friends you have."
Eirik had taken advantage that Ingrid values his opinions and it worked to get Ingrid to agree to it. "Fine, I'll go for Ayla."
With that, the preparations for the event were underway. Ingrid practised a few things she believed could happen during the event. Practising her verbal sparring with the ever-sharp tongue of Ragnhild who knew way too much about Ingrid. Those spars with her almost left Ingrid in tears a few times. The dress she wore was a repurposed one that she would wear on a date but had been put in the closet since then. Ingrid kept it light on jewellery to not gather too much attention, her dress and other adornments should keep it enough. No glasses either as they usually detract from her when she is all dressed up as her mother said. And she wore some small hells only because as Ragnhild and Åsa put it, your backside fills out a good bit more. Luckily Ingrid had been training for the better part of a few months so she has a light toning to her but not nearly as shredded as she needed to be for her Fingersteepler's costume. Lastly came makeup and that needed to be prepared in advance because although Ingrid was talented in touch ups, she was nowhere near the mastery of her maid.
Ingrid chose not to give a gift to the hostess for many reasons but the biggest was to hopefully show she was only there as of a friend's request. She didn't want to gather any unwanted attention to herself nor did she want to stand out as it wasn't even 2 weeks ago from when she went crazy and made quite a scene. Ingrid still worried that her presence would lower Ayla's and her other guests standing. She can already imagine the partygoers talking behind her back to make themselves seem better the way they had done in Eskand. Sadly, the difference was Ingrid still felt brittle and not as capable of shrugging off their words. She didn't wish to bring anyone either for the same concern. "Everything will be okay as long as you keep to yourself," Ingrid repeated to herself in private a few times while preparing
Now for Ayla it was a different story for gifts. She had invited Ingrid although she had that big incident. Ingrid wanted to get her something reminiscent of when they first met. "I believed she played the flute so maybe a panpipe?" Ingrid said thinking out loud. She purchased a high-quality panpipe and prepared it to be Ayla's gift.
Trypano She read over the letter that had arrived. An invitation to a party hosted by Ayla's family. It struck her as strange at first but she did overhear Jocasta mention a party she was recommended to attend. Could this be it?
With a deep sigh she set down the letter and turned to her armoire, opening it and checking through to find a dress suitably fancy enough for the occasion. She was rarely invited out, even less frequently to noble dinner parties. One of the main benefits of never making friends was that she had much more free time to dedicate to her studies and research. As a result however she was quite unprepared for such an outing. Not financially mind you, she had dresses that were more than expensive enough to blend in at a party with the nobility. She was neither mentally nor emotionally prepared however. It was strange territory for her, stepping out of her bounds like so.
She dwelled over her uncertainty whilst she dressed for the occasion, cladding herself in a red dress which flared out at the hip, coming down in a rippling pattern reminiscent to the head of a rose. It held a modestly deep plunging neckline, something that was coming into fashion, as well as loose red sleeves with jewel-embroidered red trim and an accompanying ruby necklace for good measure. With that and only a tiny amount of makeup given how pale her complexion already was she looked back in the mirror, neither impressed nor underwhelmed with what she saw. It had always felt unnatural to her, the feel of fabric on her skin. Clothing's texture had always provoked a well disguised disgust in her, even though if she had her way she wouldn't need skin either for it too clung to her most uncomfortably.
Zarina ~“Dreaming on the stars on high~”
Zarina sang in her quarters with her voice barely echoing out of the entrance door she kept locked shut. A banquet was to be held by those of higher stature and proper preparations were in order and opportunities were to be seized. As of yet, she was barely presentable with a mere nightgown and nothing below. No, dress-up was for last. Right now, it was time to prepare her tribute. On the large centre table of her abode was a box she was specifically crafting for the occasion. A third of a metre in height and two thirds in width, the main focus was not the box itself but rather making it presentable.
“~That speak to me in secret sighs~”
She continued to hum the tune rather than singing as she focused on the paintjob she was giving it. Green and white with a particularly well-drawn variation of the Zeno Bucks on the left side of the lid. On the right was a colour scheme that differed strongly from it: Red and gold with a flower-like pattern that held far more details than the business logo. The symbol of the Fire Lily - The Symbol of Al-Nader. The whole box was coated with two layers of white to be sure there were no obvious imperfections, and then was made to dry with the aid of a little magic.
“~Could it be the sacred wind~” The offering was complete, next came the issue of dressing up. If she was invited, so was Ysilla, most likely, making dark clothes a no-go. White and gold, a marriage between Zeno Bucks and her Family’s colours while very much pulling a sneaky on her sister. The golden, embroidered patterns on her white dress contrasted with her not-so-pale skin and dark hair she brushed, straightened and tied. Her attire was overall far less layered than some other noble styles, even those in Virang, but they kept the flowiness that came with the size of these lavish getups. Not forgetting jewellery that rivalled her sister’s with a platinum Hexaic star hanging from her neck.
“~That’s calling me to now begin~”
The Arrival
Yalen Yalen's rented carriage dropped him off a short walk away from the outer gate. While the idea of walking a great distance no longer bothered him, he did not want to disrespect his friend by arriving late. After paying the driver his fee, the priest in training disembarked and smoothed the wrinkles out of his clothes. He was once again dressed in the ornate robes of the Dordian order, and while that alone might have sufficed for his status as a clergyman Yalen chose to add a little extra this for this event. Tucked under his collar was a silk stole, the long blue cloth decorated with ornamental gold trim and measuring seven feet long from end to end. Accompanying this piece was a maniple of similar appearance, which was wrapped around his left arm. Technically he was supposed to save this for when he completed his training, but he wanted to make a good impression for Ayla's sake.
One of the guards met Yalen halfway as he approached the gate of entry. The man bade him to halt with an armoured hand. "You stand before the residence of the King of Torragon. If you have no business here then please turn back sir. Otherwise, I shall now receive your invitation." The biro showed the guard the document from Duque Arslan. The soldier scrutinised the wax seal of the Arslan family rather closely, but he let Yalen pass without further harassment.
Dory Dory’s carriage wasn’t all too noble-like as she truly did not wish to stand out too much. The one thing that did stand out was the small crate of something that looked like berries in it carried along. The Feskan came out of the carriage with finesse that was unlike her. The girl wore a purple dyed dress with patterns of obvious Perrench influence sewed into it. The jewellery however was a different story, being of Feskan origin. Family heirlooms worn by the women of the Hohnstein house for generations. Her hair was no longer the somewhat messy curls but had been styled just for this occasion.
Dory clicked her tongue as the guard stopped her after showing the invitation. “Miss, what is inside this box?” “Only the finest Spratz for the highest of occasions!” Dory proclaimed proudly. The guard after looking somewhat conflicted let Dorothea through with her box.
Zarina Box ready, dress ready, horse primed: She was ready to go. Zaz would probably be the only one to travel without a carriage and opted to ride her trusted Riesco. Eager as ever to sniff out some treats, the young horse nearly stained the teen’s dress before it even had a chance to be shown off. With a gentle pat of his snout and a pacifying carrot, the Carmague Stallion was ready, and she trotted away. Unsurprisingly, she would arrive first due to the lack of extra preparation that came with a carriage. The whole way, she hummed.
“Miss Zarina Al-Nader …” Gee, not lady-like enough for you?
The Welcome
Zarina Riesco was trusted to one of the servants - And by trusted she meant giving a dirty look to the lad, making it clear any screw up could be dangerous. Azahara, the matriarch of the Arslans, greeted the guests. Zarina, poised for a proper greeting, raised the gift box as a humble offering to the Duquesa.
“Duquesa, es mi honor. Soy Zarina de la casa Al-Nader. Le pido que acepte este obsequio como una muestra de aprecio por usted excelencia. ” she kept her head down until the gift was accepted. Inside was a finely crafted Zeno Bucks marked ceramic pot, four large Zeno Bucks cups crafted at a higher quality than those commercialised, half a pound of top level Palapar coffee within a tightly closed leather bag, and a small set of homemade bambalounis. The others then came, and Zarina made herself comfortable. Mingling was no issue to her, even if she was rough around the edges compared to many others. First, though, she offered a proper bow to Maura and winked over at her upon barely overhearing what was exchanged with Ayla. But what truly caught her attention was a specific, overly long name.
“Ah, this must be the brother.” she called out whilst directing her attention to Manfred, sat comfortably on her seat with a glass of wine held between her major and ring fingers, stirred semi-frequently, “Wha-” she squinted over at Ysilla, “Nice- Uhh, friend you got there.” she tilted her head and gave the metallic creation a concerned stare.
Azahara looked upon the novel gift offered by the tall girl. She looks at what appeared to be a ceramic drinking set and bag of produce. The ceramic set bears a striking resemblance of the girl's portrait upon them. Azahara pauses as she tries to decide the meaning of the gift, between it being very vain, or if there was some message behind it. She quickly deducts the intent with the gaudy gesture, and the sales pitch behind the warm welcome. “Señorita Al-Nader, ¿acaso es usted comerciante y comerciante de café? - do you trade in coffee?”, indicating the gift offered towards her. “impresionado, ya está buscando oportunidades de patrocinio - you are seeking patronage?”
Once she was relieved of the burden of holding the box, either by the Duquesa or a nearby servant, Zarina would straighten her posture and knead her hands together before her abdomen, “No, Duquesa Arslan. Este es un regalo.” she nodded toward the box, “A gift from my humble enterprise, Zeno Bucks. And an offering from house Al-Nader to your grace.” she continued in avincian with a noticeable accent, “The finest of our ceramic wares, desserts for the occasion and coffee beans freshly roasted from Palapar.”
Azahara simply nods with a polite smile, “Entonces aceptaremos este regalo y no como si fuerais Thalakonas trayendo regalos - Then we accept this gift sincerely and not as if you were Thalakonian bearing gifts”, the latter offered mischievously as a nod to the famous fable as a show of humour. “mi hija y sus amigas están sentadas en la esquina'' as she motions her hands towards prepared table in the corner.
Yalen It was Yalen's turn to enter the hall right behind Zarina. It would be a lie to say that he was not feeling somewhat out of place here. As a priest he was basically allowed to navigate social circles as he pleased, but he was a country boy at heart. While he was well spoken and polite, he didn't know much about the deeper etiquette of high society, and it was possible he might offend someone. Yalen hid it well, but there were butterflies in his stomach as he addressed Duquesa Azahara.
"Your Grace, thank you for allowing me to attend this banquet.” Yalen bowed at the waist until his head was nearly parallel to the floor. The duchess motioned for him to stand at ease.
"Thank you for your attendance Brother Castel." Lady Azahara spoke in a measured tone. "I understand that you suffer from a particular... condition. I am quite familiar with it. If you require any assistance you may ask one of the servants."
"I appreciate your concern madam.” Yalen once again showed his deference by bowing his head. He parted ways with the lady and allowed Ayla to show him to his seat at one of the banquet tables. Zarina was already at her seat, and the others slowly trickled in as their names were called by the crier. When the unfamiliar tethered girl joined the party as well, he made no comment at Ayla's embarrassing display of waterworks.
"Well met Maura, I am Yalen Castel. As a friend of a friend, I hope you'll treat me well.”
Maura smiles with some warmth as the priest boy welcomes her, extending her hand for it to be taken in greeting. “You must be our moral compass for this evening. It is good to know we are in good… and strong hands, Brother Castel.” She feels the strength when they touch, he must be the keeper of an impressive library.
Dory Dory truly disliked these opulent festivities, rather spending this time at a beer hall. All of this reminds her of the meetings with the other Graf houses… especially those slimy Benraths… But nevertheless she could not back out now, it was for Ayla after all.
“Ta gráce, I thank you for inviting me to this joyous occasion.” Dorothea bowed towards the duchess.
“And I thank you for attending, Lady Hohnstein.” The Duchess replied. “Please enjoy this lovely Banquet.”
“I am certain a banquet like this will be enjoyable.” Once again showing respect towards the woman she thought was the hostess.The Feskan took a seat among her fellow students as she noticed an unfamiliar face sit with them. She soon smiled at the sight of the reunion, thinking how Karl has been doing these months. leaning in towards the Arslan's ear.
“Care if I take a moment of your time?”
Ayla smiled widely as Dory asked for her attention, moving to grab upon her hands, though seeing them occupied by a strange box. “You do look beautifully dressed up today, Dory. Manfred must be jealous of you being like this around all the boys.” She gives a giggle as her hands are placed over the girls in greeting as they hold upon the box together. “Did not realise that in Feska you adopted Perrench style dresses, always imagined to be more Drudguzean.”
Returning to the original question: “Oh, yes, you can have a moment of my time.”
Dory looked away with a rather troubled look. "Well, usually they do not... My mother didn't want me to have too much Feskan clothing..." The Feskan clicked her tongue.
Her mind quickly tried to go back on the original question. touching the other's hand softly as they both held the box, leaning in towards the other once again. "Oh, right. Is-" Ayla could hear the hesitance in Dory's voice as she halted her words for a second. "Are you feeling okay?... These festivities might look grand but usually have something else with them." Another pause as she tried to think of a better way to say it. "If there is something I can do, please tell me..." Dory let go of the box, leaving it to Ayla to open it.
Ayla looks down at surprise as Dory seems to have discretely left her holding the box in her hands. She blinks for a moment as if to suggest there had been some type of error, but realises it is a gift for her. Her curiosity does get the better of her as she lifts up the lid to take a peek inside, giving a gasp then putting her arms around to embrace her in a hug. “You spoiled me too much, Dorothea, going to cherish your gift later.” She raises her eyebrows towards Maura as if having some major to share, the other girl returns with a puzzled look of curiosity.
After the embrace with Dory, it seemed to have been good timing as Manfred turned up to reclaim his girlfriend, taking her hands and addressing her as “My love”. Ayla smiles warmly towards Manfred, “Good for you to have made it, been hoping to speak less to you less formally outside of our classes.” She politely makes her departure to allow the both of them to have a moment more private together.
Kaspar Kaspar chose his outfit carefully, bearing in mind that it would reflect on Ayla as much as on himself. Despite his inner conflict with his noble standing and family name, the boy would do everything in his power to impress her family, for her sake. Willa had spent much of her time in his chambers helping him select the pieces and drilling basic etiquette into his mind, very much falling into the familiar role as his tutor.
His doublet was a deep red, darker than drying blood and embroidered with thick golden threads. It was well-fitted but the silhouette narrowed his waist and broadened his shoulders, a V of fabric cutting downward beneath his waist. It lacked a high collar, instead drifting below his throat to frame the subtle edges of his collarbones and his smooth golden necklace. The sleeves tapered against his elbows, heavy brocade ending where a thinner linen of the same hue wrapped tightly against the forearms, threaded buttons lined and secured, a bare hint of a gap revealing black-dyed silk lining. Gold gleamed from his fingers, all four rings situated against his pale skin.
The breeches were closer-cut than standard fashion but still flared a bit before tightening and ending at the knee. The fabric was of the same black satin that lined his doublet, and blended smoothly into the dark stockings. His heeled shoes, shorter against his ankles than Kaspar was normally comfortable with, were of dark red-stained leather with brighter red rosettes that matched his eyes and cloak.
The cloak was hemmed in white mink fur that also lined the underside, brightly contrasted against his darker attire. The cloth, a brighter red so close to that of his eyes that it seemed near identical, was intercut with thin, intricate embroidery of white-gold thread that gleamed as the light hit it, confirming it to be metal-woven. The collar rose high, wrapping the back of his neck and leaving an inch or so gap from his skin to the fur, settling slightly below his jawline. Two brooches of gold with inlaid rubies held a golden chain in place as it secured just beneath the neck of his doublet. At a closer look, one could see gold within the center of the rubies, magically crafted and fully encased, displaying the Storm-and-Stream crest of the Elstrøm family.
The Manson de las Mil Ventanas was indeed a spectacular sight, and Kaspar viewed it with a stoic eye. Willa had made sure to impress upon him the art of admiring without awe; allow the respect for impressive architecture, without making yourself seem susceptible to shows of wealth. Politics are mind games, that much he knew.
His entrance was made shortly behind Yalen, and Kaspar walked with a confident cadence, spine straight and gaze level. His expression was notably unaffected, showcasing the distant, unemotional facet the boy was well-known for—and which would be a great asset at court.
Stopping in front of Azahara Arslan, he bowed with one arm stiff across his torso. “Thank you for the invitation to this event, Your Grace.” His voice was perhaps a touch stiffer than necessary, but Lady Azahara responded nevertheless.
“Thank you for your attendance, Lord Elstrøm.” As Kaspar straightened out of the bow she continued, “Please enjoy the festivities.”
He walked further into the room, ill at ease in such a scenario. Kaspar has little experience with social events, having inherited a reputation for being sickly from the boy now known as Felix. Much of his etiquette training had come within the past year, in expectation of his attendance to an academy for the Gift.
He was grateful to see a table arranged for those who were guests of Ayla, selecting a seat near those he was most familiar with. He listened to Ayla’s breakdown of the room and events, mulling over in his mind if he should try to approach any contacts. Perhaps not—the boy was not socially graced, and still felt distinctly uncertain of his future.
Seeing Ayla’s reaction to Maura, a smile slipped onto the nobleman’s face. As Ayla introduced her to those seated, he dipped his head politely, following Yalen’s lead and trying to exude some of the same warmth the priest had. “Well met. You may call me Kaspar; I look forward to your presence at our table.”
As Ayla introduces Maura to Kaspar, it wasn’t long till art was being brought up. Maura looks upon the boys hands for a telltale mark of charcoal, tugging upon Ayla’s sleeve to draw attention to it. “Looks like he is just like someone we know”, she looks up to give a knowing warm smile and wink towards Ayla. Ayla has her eyes widened for a moment, “Don’t you think we embarrassed ourselves already without you recounting that story?”, “it is we now and not you have?” came the teasing reply. After a few hush tones between the girls, Maura turns to address the question, “Thank you, Lord Elstrøm. It is good to find someone as well dressed as yourself in attendance. Red and Gold are my favourite colours.”
Manfred "Lord Manfred Hohenfelter of Meckelin-Thandau, son of Markgraf Heinrich Hohenfelter of Meckelin-Thandau and warden of Schulitz, Kolmsburg, and Mandelein."
He swept into the room, the perfect young prince: confident, finely dressed, and having arrived in a private carriage, attended to by his 'servants'. He had read the works of that Revidian, Oravaggio, and found some worth in them, whether or not they were actually satire. "Your Grace." He inclined his head respectfully in Lady Arslan's direction. "It is an honour." Manfred managed a polite smile that held just the right amount of warmth to it, and his eyes swept the room. "And I would be remiss if I did not apologise for my tardiness. An urgent matter that I could not be away from came up." Yes, he thought. Kurbis urgently needed pettins. "Please take this small gift as a token of my regret." He motioned imperiously with one hand and a servant girl - really, his washerwoman on extra pay - came up beside and behind him with a platter of Kerreman desserts that she uncovered as she bowed.
It worked the trick. Manfred's eyes settled on his hostess, a couple of tethered girls, and - most importantly - Dorothea. He has not been a very good companion to her, and it was very much time to amend that. He greeted his true hostess politely, made introductions with the others, and settled in beside Dory. "My love," he said, taking hold of her hand.
"And if you'd like I will try and bake anything you want whenever we both have the free time." She couldn't help but smile as her friend was happy with her gift.
And with that she felt a sudden touch on her hand as it was held by rough hands. "Ah, Lord Hohenfelter. What a delight to see that you could make it." She tried to be as polite as possible to confuse Kerreman a little. Closing in for a hug as it has truly been a while since they saw each other, whispering into the other's ear. "I am truly glad the invitation found it's way to you. I would have send it myself but getting all this together was a lot harder than I first imagined." Leaning back, inspecting his attire. The Feskan couldn't help but grin. "Never thought you were the type to dress this finely."
You're being passive-aggressive, Manfred thought, but he'd been wallowing lately, not there when they both could have used the other for support, and so he opted to nip it in the bud instead of responding in kind. He followed up on her concluding observation. "That, dearest, is because I am not," he replied almost impishly. "And neither are you." He leaned in close, catching a whiff of her perfume. "You smell like gardenias," he whispered, "lovely like the girl wearing them, but I know you'd rather be in a bierhalle right now wearing a dirndl. We should dance, my love, and teach these stuffy Torragoniese how to have some fun."
"Oh, baise toi." She whispered back before realising she was using the wrong tongue. "I am not against showing them what fun is, however I am here as a friend of Ayla and I do not wish to shame her for my actions.." The Feskan looked with her old determined look, pinching his side with a smirk. "And that is for saying that to me when I tried so hard to be fancy today, Arschloch." A little chuckle escaped the girl as she gripped firmly into Manfred's hand.
Manfred's only reaction was a slight grimace, but he smiled right through it, pulling Dorothea to her feet. "You tried" he teased, "and you look almost as good as me, my little schnucki. That is a hard thing for anyone to do. Now come," he concluded. "A little dancing to the quartet over there won't embarrass our host and, if it does, she isn't much of a host anyhow."
Dorothea completely lost her composure after the you tried tease, breaking out her more boorish speech. "Almost as good as you? Did you forget how to speak to a lady? But I can't deny that you finally took some effort into your appearance, my Schatz." She was still a little taken aback by his eagerness to dance, perhaps just because it's been quite a while for the two of them. "A dance really would not hurt but I have lost my touch with the more formal dances over time, care to show me the ropes?"
"Au contraire, mon cœur," Manfred responded in Perrench, "I never knew how in the first place." He winked. Leading her over close to where the chamber quartet was playing, he nodded and smiled in the bandmaster's direction and the music started to transition to something just slightly more upbeat but still respectable enough. The dancing in earnest would only begin after the dinner, of course, but it wouldn't hurt to get warmed up before the hostess called them all. Manfred spun Dory around and took hold of her other hand as well. "Just do what I do," he whispered. "This dance is a simple one: a mirror dance."
"Then perhaps I should teach you that." She let out a rather smug grin as she was lead. As the music became more upbeat, so did her and Manfred's attitude. A soft gasp could be heard from the Feskan as she was spun around by the Kerreman, smiling moments after. "Then I will follow your lead here as well."
Then, he heard an unexpected name. He was midway through his steps and, to his chagrin, broke them. "Lady Marceline Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau." She's taken the family name!? Then, Nina made a fool of herself and his heart dropped. He glanced concernedly at Dory and held a hand up for them to stop dancing.
Dorothea felt a chill down her neck as she heard that name combined with the silence. It was a chilling scene, the poor girl. Then, the sight on Manfred's face only made her concerned too. "Your family?..." She tried to show a caring face. "Should we help her out?"
Jocasta Jocasta had managed that bare display of independence which she was generally allowed, despite everybody wishing to 'help' the 'poor invalid'. She had floated herself up the stairs, wheeled-chair and all, and now swept through the doors. "Lady Jocasta Re," the crier announced, and she flashed him a quick smile of gratitude. People in such jobs were so often asked to perform and so rarely thanked for it. She wheeled forward into a large open hall, for this house of a king was unabashedly opulent, and came upon Ayla's mother. "Lady Azahara," she greeted the woman, who looked uncannily like an older version of her daughter. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I hold Lady Ayla as one of my dearest friends and I now see where she has gotten her hospitality from."
It seemed to have sufficed. truth be told, she didn't entirely have a read on the Torragonese duchess yet, nor many of the people in this room, but one immediately caught her eye, aside from the familiar faces of Yalen, Zarina, Kaspar, and Ayla herself. There was another tethered: another 'on two'. It was a thing that one inevitably did in a world of bipeds. Their eyes met momentarily and Jocasta flashed a smile.
As Azahara thanked Jocasta for her pleasantries, though she cannot help smiling as her eyes move towards the side of the room, as if there is something, a thought that may have bemused her momentarily. “It does not come as a surprise to me.”
As Maura comes to the table and is hastily introduced to the others, she cannot help but notice the warm smile in her direction. She moves closer towards Jocasta, using the opportunity to speak to the other shy girl. “Are you Lady Re? The Duquesa has said you have been looking after Ayla for me.” her gentle smile attempting to cover the slight mischievous tone of her statement. “It is good that she is making friends. Been beset with worry about her, especially as she left without saying a word.”
It had been a polite gesture. When one ran into another tethered, it was all but certain that mutual recognition would be exchanged and, often, words. It was rare to find someone who understood an aspect of your life that almost nobody else did, who'd been shaped by at least one similar and very rare experience. There was a moment where both paused, hands on wheels as if to say, "am I coming over there, or are you?" Then, the other girl made the first move, introductions happened, and they were talking.
"Not sure about the 'lady' part," Jocasta snorted, "but Ayla and I have had a few interesting times together." There was an instinct that pushed her to go back to the way that she had been - the character she'd played for the past few years, but she resisted it. The tethered couldn't help but seize upon the last bit of Maura's sentence, however, for it seemed so unlike Ayla. "Left without saying a word?" She tilted her head to one side.
Maura blushed lightly, “Forgive me, not as ominous as that sounds.” She composed herself, especially as Ayla is distracted by the others, allowing the pair to talk more privately, “Her father thought to place her under house arrest, prior to sending her here. A joke as you probably gathered, she isn’t the most adventurous type. More likely to be found with dessert than the desert.” She forms a wide smile, imagining Ayla asking where the churros grew out in the desert.
“Had a surreal experience this morning though. Went to the admissions office to inquire about enrolment at the academy, and initially they treated me as if royalty when they saw me roll in and said about being from Torragon.” Her voice rang with pleasant surprise as it chirped from the events, she fidgeted a moment in her seat as it came with a characteristic ‘buttttt’ expression, “Their faces dropped when there had been a misunderstanding and was ushered out rather quickly…” she rolled her eyes a moment.
She looks down then smiles a little, as if looking like she entertained saying quite a number of things in the moment of her own quietness. “So… Jocasta? Jo? How did you end up with Ayla.”
Jocasta, thought... Jocasta. This girl seemed pleasant enough, though possessed of the same annoying verbal tic as Ayla, and there was always a shared kinship with fellow tethered. Yet, the Djamantese still had her secrets; they were many and deadly. It would not do to get too close to people whom she knew nothing about. Just because your legs are gimpy, doesn't make you a good-faith actor, Jocasta self-warned. If anything, she herself had long been the poster child for that. "Oh, she and I had a little adventure in the desert, ironically," she replied with a smirk. Unbidden, she found her voice dipping. "at a refuge for people like... us." The tethered eyes flashed for a moment. "Stairs to climb and doors closed in our faces are all part of the fun, as it sounds like you've just been reminded, but we were able to make things a little better." She shrugged, "so that's something."
Maura blinked in astonishment as Jocasta spoke about her and Ayla spending time in the Desert. Was the girl trying to test her in some way, or trying to prove some kind of point that she was somehow the better friend. Jealousy? She continued to listen as she brought her hands together, as the fingers interlocked. It got even more surprising when they suggested they were at a refuge together, but those are for the tethered… Ayla is actually tethered? Maura moves her eyes to look across to look towards Ayla happily talking to her other friends as nothing is amiss. It does make some kind of sense, Ayla has always been physically weak and there were always rumours and days she had to stay inside. Perhaps coming to the academy was a cover for the house arrest, if the Duque sent her to the refuge… perhaps that is why the admission staff were so confused. She holds upon her hands tightly, her eyes looking sad as she looks down towards them. “She never told me she was tethered… there were the rumours, but you know how they can be…” she breaks her hands to grab a napkin, to dab at her eyes, “Perhaps that is why she always looked out for me, she was always thinking she would be in this position herself.” She moves her hands upon Jocasta’s own, “Promise to take care of her. She is so innocent at heart.”
Jocasta merely blinked. Either this girl was messing with her or something about baking in the Torragonese sun all day really did strip people of some intelligence. For the sake of having even a shred of respect for Maura, she decided that it must be the former. "Ha!" she laughed. "Haha, you almost had me there for a second." She rolled her eyes. "Oraff knows she's a jellyfish, though, and I don't get paid enough to be her nursemaid. We should put her through her paces."
Maura seems to just grow more perplexed. Is this person trying to make a fool out of her with the whole tethered thing? She was conned so easily by such a simple ruse, too trusting of someone who claims to be one of Ayla’s dearest friends. Mocked for being deceived so easily, that it had to be a joke. The nerve of this one. “Your ruse about the refuge was a nice touch.” she sits there with that polite smile, as she looks towards the blonde, simply nodding as she discusses putting her through her paces. “It does seem Ayla has her work cut out for her here.”
Jocasta stopped and visibly shook her head to clear it. "Wait up, hold on a moment. Let's just reel this one back in." Truth be told, she was annoyed and she had spotted Augusto not so far away. Zarina was about as well, and Kaspar. It occurred to her that she could just tweak Maura's mood or perceptions a little bit and be done, but she'd been trying not to do things like that. Caring what people thought of her was much easier when she was only pretending to do it while playing a role. "Ayla didn't tell you that we were sent by the school to a refuge in Torragon?" She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Shune, she's such an airhead sometimes. Also, come on." She reached down and slapped the tops of her thighs and gestured at Maura's. Her expression said the rest.
Maura seemed to look towards Jocasta incredulously as the situation was reeled in again. She did consider for a moment that maybe Ayla did have a tendency for an overly welcoming and emotional greeting, but she thought it was a given they haven’t conversed for some time, and it appears there was plenty to converse about. Ayla running off to refuges and deserts in Torragon when she was meant to be in class did sound very far fetched, it would be around a 4 week round trip at least by boat minimum, as a starting point, significantly greater if they were to cross to a river boat, sail up the Merapor River, then join a trade caravan to head to St Austin. It had only been over a month since Ayla first attended the school.
Maura could only blink, as she saw Jocasta’s motions and tilted her head, “Tethered?”
What was there to not understand? Had this stupid girl spent her entire life in a bubble or was she just getting her figurative kicks by playing this obtuse? Had not Ayla written to her supposed best friend at least once over the past month and a half about the wonders of Ersand'Enise? About how time itself had been paused on the very first day? About the Aberrations? The Forked Tower? Any of it? How did she seem so 'confused'?
Jocasta found her blood boiling as she looked at the pleasant, perplexed little face before her. Eshi, I wanna punch you, she thought, smiling agreeably back, brittle as it was. The thought occurred to her that this might be more Ayla's fault, but she was not about to indulge it, for friends, at least, were sacrosanct to a degree.
Without warning, she reached out and took Maura's hands, simultaneously grabbing the threads of time and space. Things froze: Manfred in the middle of hesitating in his dance with Dorothea, Marci being awkwardly introduced by Zarina, all manner of interactions, even Augusto's 'conversation' with Trypano, though he was not frozen and glanced her way wearily. "Do make it quick," he sighed. "Do cover for me?" she replied.
Then, two young women in wheelchairs appeared in the middle of the Dune Sea, on a plateau overlooking the refuge of St. Agustin de las Arenas. A hot, dusty wind swirled their hair as Jocasta released the other and backed up a few pushes. "Now, you were either being obtuse," she began, "trying to get your kicks out of me for some reason, or you really didn't know, in which case, sorry, and I need to have a conversation with Ayla about sharing a little better with her friends. Now, what is it?" she asked, voice slipping from too-sweet to flat. She studied Maura intently.
The walls around Maura seem to fall down around her as it is replaced by the sights of the Torragonese desert. The hot air blasting her unexpectedly as she physically jumps in her seat in the total shock of the experience. “Azúcar, miel y té helado. Hija de un escrupuloso recaudador de impuestos!” she swears out loud as she takes in the scenery around her. “Donde estamos nosotras”, takes a moment to calm down and settle, as the realisation of what Jocasta was trying to say turned into reality, a very confusing one where someone turned the world upside down for a good few moments and tried to shake out its contents.
Maura blinked for a moment as she listened to the question, “Of course one would be obtuse, no one expects the man from the docks claiming to be visited by little grey men from Yazan to be telling the truth… Do you know the implications of this? The ability to cross vast distances in a heartbeat…” she takes hold of Jocasta’s hands, squeezes upon them tightly. “You use this, and we can make some serious money. A partnership will cover the accounting, inventory, and stock, and you can deliver it with this ability.” As the excitement calmed down a tad, she expanded, “Not seen or heard of Ayla since we last met in Torragon. She doesn’t usually greet me that passionately… often.”
"We are in the desert of Inner Torragon," replied Jocasta to the other's rapid Torragonese. "I thought it best to simply show you, lest we continue being vexed by each other."
Jocasta set hands to wheels, turning to regard the refuge in the distance. "That is San Agustin de las Arenas," she announced, "the refuge where I grew up." She gestured in its direction. "It wasn't me who brought us here." Her eyes found Maura again. "It was the paradigm himself, if you'd believe it. We sure didn't at first. Well," she corrected, "most of us. The problem is that the Arch-Zenos and the Zenith keep knowledge of this kind of magic - Temporal magic under lock and key. It's slipped out in a few places and I'm one of those, but I can't be too brazen in its use or..." she trailed off and shrugged, leaving the rest implied. "Trust me, I'd be a rich woman otherwise."
Maura pondered the words as she looked upon the sands. She was dressed far too warm and was starting to heat up, but she did have an idea. “Temporal… that is a fancy word for time? So does this allow you to move both distance and time.” She looks towards Jocasta, and it can be seen that the grinders are turning in the girls’ head. “Does that mean we could visit Ayla during her house arrest, prior to arriving at the academy? Perhaps we could go and cheer her up before she gets sad!”
"She didn't strike me as 'sad'," Jocasta replied, still trying to get the measure of Maura, "but you know her better than I do and it was at least a few weeks into the term when I met her." She took a moment to sweep some hair from her face. It was decidedly windy out here. "Thing is, if we go back in time and change one thing, then what else would it change? I wanna help a friend out, but it's not without risk, you know..."
Maura did have this whole idea of visiting Ayla back at home, and cheerleading her to the academy, though she did consider Jo’s words for a good moment. “You’re right, it was a silly idea. Might end up in where she never met you due to it, which means we would not meet, then we wouldn’t go back in the first place…” The rabbit hole of temporal paradoxes begins in her mind, as she considers digging her nose into it, then running away screaming. “That’s too much thinking for one evening.”
"It gets... pretty tangled," Jocasta admitted. "But that doesn't mean we can't do our best to fix matters in the present, hmm?" She paused halfway through turning. Jocasta had always been a pacer, for as long as she could remember, unable to sit still once an idea took her. The gradual paralysis that had crept its way up nearly to her waistline had necessitated a change in means as opposed to habit, but it was tiring and cumbersome and she would be imposing to force a fellow invalid to follow along. "Say, if you don't mind me asking," she began, "you're not tethered, are you?" Maura's chair looked heavier and more solid, not the light wicker sort that they gave out in refuges and that Jocasta had sworn by for the six years since. "I mean, if you'd rather not say anymore, I understand it, and we should probably head back soon anyways, but I'd be lying if I didn't confess to some curiosity. Most every other invalid I know is tethered." She wrinkled her nose. "In truth, I dislike the term as well. Smacks of dismissiveness."
Maura winkles her nose in return when those terms were being used, though smiles at the question, “One is often called and referred to as a Tethered, even when you don’t have the disease. We live in a world where most things can be fixed by a binder and a ‘can do’ attitude at some expense, and if you happen to be poor or incurable, sometimes simply being abandoned is your fate. One is what you see of them.” She points towards the incline running along the plateau “The reality is, It is all about perspective. What if we said no one was invalid.”
She takes a moment for Jocasta to process the hypothetical before explaining. “How does one define being invalid. Being unable to use the stairs? Does that mean if there are no stairs, one is now not disabled?'' She goes along with the incline for emphasis. “If the stairs were a ramp like this incline, we could travel up and down as well. One thinks, if we are defined by our environment like so, perhaps what is broken is not us, but the environment we live in. In the world around you, did Oraff create stairs, or did we create the stairs?” She points to a froabase pointing in the distance, both in amazement at its splendour, but also to make another point, “There we have a dragon flying. Are we invalids to the dragon, because we cannot soar through the air on our wings? To it, that is normal, therefore we as humans must be broken.” “Some of us have crossed the twin-continents in the blink of an eye and a sassy attitude, does that make the ones who cannot invalid?” She couldn’t resist the tease, but wanted it to make the point, “It is perspective. You are not an invalid Jocasta. You are an amazing friend of a friend.”
In truth, Jocasta wasn't quite sure how to feel. She fell somewhere between being impressed by a good point and rolling her eyes. Nature didn't have stairs. It had mud and crags; roots, rocks, and steep inclines. A froabas was built to have wings that it could fly with. Humans were built to have legs that they could walk with. It was nice to think of a different world, though.
The temporal pressure was building, however. Augusto had been nice enough to cover for her. He was an intriguing one. She couldn't take advantage of his generosity any further, though. "An interesting thing to consider," she replied noncommittally, flashing a quick smile. Maura bore watching, for better or for worse. "Come now, take my hands! We should be back!"
When their world swirled and Jocasta returned, she took a moment to brush the dust from herself and recommended her acquaintance do the same. Augusto shot her a smirk and an eyeroll and the two girls returned to their places. It was little more than a minute later when the bell for dinner rang and, proper young lady that she was, Jocasta went through her paces.
Maura took those hands and ended up back where they started, without much notice of their disappearance. She took the opportunity to brush herself down as she cannot help but notice the direction Jo appeared to be looking towards, smiling politely towards the other with that knowing gaze.
She continued to converse with Jo for those last moments in a hushed tone before focusing attention upon the food. Afterall spending a good few moments in the desert makes one parched rather quickly. “Your skill will become very handy when we travel to Djamant. We need to remain in touch.”
Ingrid Ingrid had been anxious the night before but was able to go to sleep without the chemical helper known as ethanol. It took her maybe 2 hours to get ready before she even got into the carriage to take her to the party. She took some medicine beforehand to help dull her nerves before entering the party.
As Ingrid arrived the guards checked her invitation to make sure it was real and they let her in. Her height had made them specifically nervous as with how long her legs she could have easily stashed a weapon on her. But much to their surprise the Eskandish Amazonian said she bore no weapon, not even a focus. Many guards watched her enter and some checked with magnetism to see if anything registered and nothing did.
When it was time for Ingrid to greet the host of this fine banquet she went through the normal routine that noble so to greet each other. Thanks and pleasantries, all serving merely as a way to enter the party. She made her way to her table to sit and watch the event for a time to get a sense of what she should be doing. She isn't deeply tied with Torragon so she has only a rudimentary understanding of the nobility there. 'When in unfamiliar waters it is best to keep calm and play it safe' was what came to Ingrid's mind.
Ingrid was still nervous even with the assistance of the supposed inhibitor she had taken. I probably bought the wares of some fake alchemist. It was worth a shot though, I'll just have to level out on my own, Ingrid thought as she chose to stay mainly silent. She wasn't being a mute but wasn't starting any conversations yet as she tried to feel a bit more comfortable with the party.
When Ingrid found a moment to grab Ayla's attention she spoke out, "Ayla," Ingrid said a slight bit louder to have Ayla focus on her, "I have prepared a gift for you. It isn't anything too grand but I would like you to have it. I remember at the speed dating event you played a very wonderful flute. As I assure you know, this is an Esknadish Panflute. It isn't terribly complicated but I thought you could have fun with this." Ingrid was a little bit anxious to give the gift but that mostly came from Ingrid hoping she liked it.
Ayla smiles widely as she comes to see Ingrid. She was pleasantly surprised her friend came, especially as she heard she got in an argument with Dory the other day after an incident with an aberration, but it seems both have patched things up since. “Ingrid! Glad you made it. Good to get you out of your room, we thought we were going to need an intervention.” She takes the girl by the hands, and squeezes upon them. As Ingrid presents the gift, Ayla’s eyes widen in surprise and with a gentle smile, accepting the pan-pipes. She took the little box as she gave a toot over the holes, similar to the flute, and soon was able to get a little tune out of them. Definitely gifted when it comes to sound. “Thank you Ingrid, this was sweet of you. Portable too, so able to carry around when bringing it to your homeland with me. Marly said to see a rural practice there called… Kulling? In your tongue.”
Ingrid had tried to hide a look of complete confusion. Culling? Ingrid questioned. She couldn't tell if the sweet girl in front wanted to help cull a herd during a particularly tough winter. Ingrid thought hard and suddenly it became clear. Ingrid hid a small chuckle under her hand, "Lady Ayla, a kulning is something we mainly use to call our herds over great distances. It is a unique sound and if you have never heard it I can perform it for you on a later date if you would like."
"And thank you," Ingrid said abruptly in a much less joyful tone, "Like you said as a joke I had been keeping to myself as of late and as nervous as I am I shouldn't be staying in my room all the time." Ingrid set her hands on Ayla's, lightly grasping them, "So thank you."
Ingrid thanked Ayla and Ayla went on her way. Ingrid didn't have much to do. Ayla was bouncing from person to person and Dory was with her boyfriend. Ingrid was also invited by a man named Augusto. And he was talking to Trypano... Should I try and make my way into the conversation? I guess I'll stay to the outside and hope either of them notice and pull me in. Ingrid stood and made her way to a position that they should be able to notice her. With some well placed eye contact, she shouldn't be standing there too long.
"It's tough being a third wheel, isn't it?" Yalen whispered to Ingrid from behind. He had left the table moments ago to relieve himself and was on his way back to his seat, when he noticed the tall Eskandish girl standing around awkwardly. He beamed an innocent smile at her, seemingly unaware of her desire to speak with Trypano and Augusto. When it came to the dynamics of human pair bonding he was the most inexperienced person in the room, so Ingrid's nonverbal signals to the others had gone completely unnoticed by him.
"I was happy to receive the invitation, but I'll admit I really have no business here. Networking is more Zarina's speed. Perhaps Ayla just wanted some emotional support... What about you, what brings you here?"
Trypano Stepping up to the door her heart was in her throat, even if she stood a head or so taller than most of the people around. She presented her letter which, after some scrutiny, was deemed valid. After a quick search they were able to confirm that she was in fact unarmed too at which point she was cleared for entry.
If ever there was someone who stood out like a sore thumb she was that someone. With a clearly set colour pallet of red and more red with white skin she stuck out like a fire on the surface of a lake. Though her face was cold and placid her posture was tight, tense one might even say. She took care to heed the customs and paid her respects to the matron of the family before taking her seat amongst the others, some she recognized more than others.
So, was this the meeting of minds Jocasta invited me to? If so I hope it's purpose becomes clearer with time She wondered to herself in quiet thought as she took her seat. From there she glanced about the room, taking in who else was present and keeping track of things as they occurred without yet directly involving herself. In truth Trypano had no clue how to open a conversation with someone else, she'd be at a loss for words. Hence she adopted the silent observers position for the time being, acting natural even though she was anything but.
Ayla saw the impressive girl in red, and a paleness that rivals that of Kaspar. She offers a far more formal greeting towards her, taking the woman by her hands. “Lady Somia, good that you were able to come.” she squeezes and breaks the gesture. “We know we only met briefly, it is good that you are willing to attend even though we are acquaintances. Hope you were able to get my message, Lord Frannemas should be in attendance somewhere this evening, he was asking me if there was an opportunity for a personal introduction? Perhaps you may remember him from the Desert as well.” She smiles up towards the girl, that look that is hiding some giggly excitement at the idea of her playing some kind of matchmaking role. “Good looks, Good breeding, Status, high RAS, Very wealthy…” she says more quietly and softly towards Trypano, as if trying to persuade her to have some interest in talking to him, though speaking louder “To compensate, please enjoy the delicious food on offer today and take advantage of any opportunities you may encounter”.
Augusto had been holding himself aloof, busy about the city and then in his chambers, but he emerged when introduced and it was nice to be fawned over a little bit less than usual. There were, around him, all three women that he'd asked Ayla to introduce him to, and Trypano Somia looked to be the only one not otherwise engaged. RAS 8.28, possibly higher now, exceptional physical specimen, binder or more likely blood mage, cold and analytical by nature, socially awkward. Poor girl would be impressive if she didn't look so lost
He strode up to the Revidian, a small fluted wine glass in each hand, and offered her one. "You don't have to drink the swill, but you'll look more natural with one on your person." He smiled faintly, knowingly. "You fairly radiate anxiety, but you'll find these events are not so difficult. Just get stuck into one good conversation and milk it." The Torragonese held out a hand. "Augusto Frannemas, surprisingly. I believe we were to meet here."
"I did receive your letter regarding his invitation as well. I do recall seeing him back in the desert as well, though we never spoke." She replied to Ayla's greeting. Just as she was starting to get her bearings in this setting, more or less, her younger host proceeded to put her off her rhythm once more with talk of Augusto's qualities in... a relationship? She certainly wasn't precisely aware of the nature of their invitation but the way Ayla was leaning into it started to give her a bad feeling about this.
Speaking of devils the man himself emerged as if summoned by the mere utterance of his name. Accepting the drink as a party accoutrement she heard his advice. Spoken from experience it would seem but getting stuck into a good conversation first requires a good conversation to get stuck into.
"Trypano Somia. I recall you had sent me an invitation to meet, yes." She shook his offered hand, maintaining a formal exterior to mask her uncertainty. "Typically I'm only invited out to discuss matters of academia or business."
"Important matters," he agreed, "but I've found that your successes in those matters will wither quickly on the vine without some social acumen as well." He flashed a quick and professional but reassuring smile. "For the sake of brevity, however, I won't beat around the bush. I'm supposed to marry at the behest of my parents and, when in Ersand, I'm expected to make an effort to court any respectable lady who's both of an age with me and possessed of a capacity above eight-point-two." He shrugged. "Personally, I find marriage a disagreeable institution, as it gets in the way of both romance and other pursuits. I'm far more interested in hearing more about these academic pursuits of yours. I've heard only whispers to this point."
"Indeed. As my brother often reminds me, work done for the sake of humanity means I am unable to cut them from the equation." She responded, noting his smile but unable to return one of her own as she was focused on maintaining poise and decorum, a curse for one who stood out as much as she.
"I gather then you're approaching me with such an offer given I meet their criteria?" She noted. "I do agree that such matters come with caveats that can impede one's professional and personal life pursuits. As for my academic pursuits..." She adjusted her grip on the wine glass, snaking the stem between her index and ring finger as she held it off to one side.
"My main study is biology. I am looking to answer a question that has gone relatively unexplored aside from a few select minds throughout our past, the question being "What is Mana?"" Trypano took a step aside, blocking less of the room with her form as she stood perpendicularly from him to keep both him and most of the room's occupants in view.
"Given how important such a thing is to casters far and wide it's remarkable how little yet remains known of it. Just as all of our flesh ultimately breaks down into core elements which further break down into pure magical energy I suspect mana too must be composed from several core elements. Should I be able to decipher the exact nature of mana's form then from there I could start to see what elements in the blood draw the most mana. While I understand that many noble houses specifically breed for high RAS quantities in their children it is still an imprecise art, still well and far from the perfect science it could be."
"Sounds an ambitious plan," Augusto replied, "though mostly in regards to finding the right equipment and a starting line. Hard to build a tower without knowing what sort of foundation to lay, and other such idioms and metaphors." He sipped his wine.
"I will admit that I'm not much of a scientist. I only study magic, and the most practical aspects of it." He shrugged. "But it's an intriguing mystery. We could unlock much more, but then..." his eyes narrowed momentarily, perhaps indicating that he had sunk his teeth into something of interest, "does that devalue magic by removing its scarcity?" He had noticed a second unusually tall woman sliding in close to them and presumed that she might be Ingrid Penderson. Before she could join their conversation, however, she was accosted by an enthusiastic priest that Augusto recognized immediately as Yalen Castel: a man with whom he had vanishingly little in common, but a good man nonetheless. She appeared to want little to do with him.
"Ah, brother Castel!" Augusto greeted him cheerfully, "So sorry to cut your conversation short, but I was just about to ask Miss Somia here a question that occurred to me, and I thought that you might bring an interesting perspective to the matter as a man of the cloth." He nodded in Ingrid's direction as well. "Lady Penderson. Now, the notion is this: if we humans and yasoi, by virtue of our ingenuity and scientific discovery, should find a way to imbue all people with a high degree of magic capacity, is that necessarily a good thing? Should the Gift be widely available? Can all people be trusted to use it or only those whom the Gods have seen fit to bestow it upon from birth?”
Upon mention of her research's threat to scarcity her eyes sharpened. It was not a threatening look but rather she now had something to sink her teeth into. His subtle pushback bled out into a general debate aimed at both her and two others who had gravitated to their group. At this point it was time to rebuke this devil's advocate.
"Did the advent of the sword devalue the club?" Her point was made in general but her focus remained on him. "Many would say yes. Diehard upholders of the club disagreed but you don't see anyone modernly siding with classic club values over the rise of firearms and the ever-advancing exploration of magic's limits."
She now had her right hand behind her back, the other hand still holding the wine glass, tracing circles along the surface with her long red painted thumbnail.
"Any advancement to society comes with it's fair share of risk. It is always reasonable to assume that a percentage of people will abuse what they are allowed to have as it is human nature. We could decry that the discovery of fire was when humanity overstepped it's bounds, challenging the gods by banding together and forming tribes, crafting weapons of stone and wood before laying traps to hunt great beasts with the primitive tools that would become the ancestors of all weapons." Taking her free hand out from behind her back she gestured to the room at large in all it's opulence.
"This age of peace and erudition was bought with the sweat and blood of those who dared to dream of creating a better world for their fellow men and women alike. The very academy halls we walk we only walk because those with knowledge saw it fit to share that knowledge with others. Knowledge and it's proliferation across the modern world is what allowed us to rise up from the era where all but a few warlords wallowed in dirt suffering through disease and famine while the few gifted saw their talents cut short in endless conflict, the force and fury of powerful casters clashing with one another like territorial dragons waging brutal combat." She stopped to hear Ingrid's take on the philosophical quandary posed. She couldn't help but smirk, turning her focus to her.
"You claim those with high RAS would lead to catastrophe even though close to everyone Augusto invited to speak with him meets that condition, hm?" She cocked an eyebrow to accompany a wry smile. "I could make the case that even with as few mages that occur now as there are the risks of one reaching such powerful heights and dabbling with forces that present an existential threat to sapient-kind as we know it is not only likely, it's already happening."
Perhaps this was oversharing. Cased in the frame of a hypothetical she could play it off as a manner of speaking but she needed to be careful with what else she mentioned. Perhaps it was time to throw off the scent a little. A careful dance of words indeed.
"You recall the aberration that appeared, yes?" She left the rhetorical question open ended, letting Ingrid fill in the blanks. "You do also know that they are the result of improper tampering with the temporal fabric of reality. While ordinarily they are to be avoided or reported to the nearest authority on such magic, if they present a risk of being absorbed by less even-tempered parties then sometimes one must take containment into their own hands." While not specifically broadcasting this information she left the description vague enough not to purposefully out Ingrid's recent behaviour. Instead she turned the focus of her argument back over to Augusto.
"Even a 6.0 could, if inclined, abuse what knowledge they may possess on such magics and commit irreparable damage to this reality. What matters is not whether or not more people has access to magic, it's whether or not people have access to the knowledge needed to wield their magic. You see as much here at the academy, those with greater knowledge acting as safeguards against the exploitation of fundamentally dangerous secrets to magic." She lightly gestured to him with her free arm back out from behind her back.
"In an ultimately pragmatic argument entrepreneurship rewards seeing opportunity in rising trends and capitalising on it ahead of the rest. While one can stall progress it only serves them so long as there is guarantee that progress never occurs. Once it does, those who stood against it end up behind everyone else, struggling to keep up with the change while those who saw the trend on the rise and adopted it will see great rewards on their investment. History is full of noble houses who sat on their laurels only to find themselves dwindling as they lose territory and other such assets to their neighbours after all."
Thus she made her points. She spoke of historical precedent, of the gods, of the dangers of change and even business. This was not the first time those in positions of authority had questioned the radical nature of her research and it most certainly wasn't the first time she considered the greater implications of her work. Her whole life's effort was not born in a vacuum for life often challenged her on this effort both mentally, physically and philosophically still.
Augusto was right in saying that social acumen had a hand in her work's success. Despite her cold and sometimes awkward demeanour, she understood people well.
They were her greatest obstacles after all.
Ysilla “Lady Ysilla Al-Nader…”
The puppeteer pariah was hardly seen these days. Ysilla attended her classes and communed with the other puppeteers in their appropriately named student society. Time not outside was spent toiling away on her craft. There was always a new shape or inspiration for the Virangish eccentric.
Dressed in a midnight black dress with accompanying oversized witch’s hat, she kept herself nearly hidden aside from her face that often hid behind the brim of her hat. Despite the rather simple nature of her dress, she wore a variety of bracelets, rings, necklaces, and earrings with jewels of all colors mounted in silver to add a fine accent. Those that could manage to witness her face, her complex was pale having been spared the sun for so long. There was almost something sickly noticeable to the astute but easily concealed by the makeup applied.
“...and her guest…”
Tailing Ysilla was a six foot tall figure made of brass and steel with interlocking segments that made it clearly obvious it was one of her creations. Rostam, the Brass Dancer. She was quite proud of the work she put in and so not only was this party an event to show her support of Ayla, but also a chance to find donors. She needed a new medium and there are always bigger and better ideas…
Ysilla hovered across the Mansion with the bottom of her dress fanned out to conceal her small, silent steps across the floor. Rostam was just as silent, the joints well fitted and lightly oiled to prevent the intrusion of his sound. The pair moved over to who Ysilla considered the height of the party, Ayla.
She gave a quiet nod of greeting before finishing her approach. “Ayla…” It was at this point, Ysilla had silently panicked. She had run out of things to talk about! Or rather, wasn’t prepared at all! “Your tastes for arrangements are exquisite.” Her tone, as always, was monotone not betraying a hint of emotion like a carefully created mask. There wasn’t a follow up as she stood there, silently watching Ayla and waiting for her response. Rostam, too, was watching her. Conversation was never her strong suit, relying on others to carry it.
Ayla smiles widely at the sight of Ysilla, though raises an eyebrow towards her companion. “Tick. Tock.” Her smile wide as it bares her teeth, taking to holding the girls hands warmly and giving them a good squeeze. “You were missed. So much so, they had to send three to replace you.” She had to fight the urge to hug Ysilla, giving an extra long squeeze of the hand had to do. She moved to look up towards Ysilla’s brass chauffeur, as she held out a hand towards it. “Do you have a name?”
Food is Served
After a slow start of awkward introductions, the party started to grow engaging as multiple people got into conversations. Various guests and students start to mingle. What was seen primarily as a social function for the Duquesa and her guests started to become overrun by the other Arslan’s friends. The crowd was impressed at the prestige of the students walking through the halls, the up and coming generation into the world of politics spanning the twin continents. The Duquesa continues to guide certain individuals into one of the back rooms for far more hushed discussions out of earshot from the rest as she makes her way to the front.
“Señoras y señores … …”, Azahara raises her arms up, her hands outstretched as she clicks her fingers loudly, calling to attention to those in the room, and the staff waiting in the wings.
In classic Torragon tradition, the food is brought out on trays which are allocated to the tables. Each try consists of multiple small plates, Ayla-sized portions of food being served up.
The reception is rather different for those from afar, as a few are already showing their eyes wide with insult at the stingy meals, hawking. Thankfully Ayla is able to explain to her friends before they embarrass themselves like some of the others in front of the host.
“Tapas! Great!”, she clapped her hands together as she explained for her friends. “It is a fun Torragonese tradition. Instead of one big meal, you have 4, 6 or even 8 meals! You get to taste a lot of everything. Really good to explore with your taste buds.” The dishes served some offerings from the other nations too, a rather multicultural Tapas buffet. “Please take a plate and dig in, there is always more.”
Ayla moves to one of the dishes, croqueta, using a fork to pick it up. “This is one of my favourites. Croqueta! Deep fried mix of veg, cheese and ham, crisp shell and yummy soft middle.” She looks upon those gathered, deciding to target Trypano, moving the fork up towards her mouth. “Take a bite, you won’t regret it!”
The banquet continues as the empty plates are taken away and the fresh ones brought. Ayla encourages more of her friends to eat as she convinces Kaspar to have chorizo sausage wrapped within a tortilla topped with guacamole and sour cream, even suggesting he can eat it with his fingers. Others who were busy talking and neglecting the food got similar treatment as she didn’t want her friends to go without. There are treats continuing from far and near, even the Djamantese Pastizzi were on the table reportedly baked by Ayla herself. There is no pallet unsatisfied on offer.
The backroom opens with a loud ruckus as further guests who secreted themselves earlier during the gathering make their way into the hall. There is much excitement and chatter, it seems that whatever has been discussed has resulted in a very positive ending and business is concluded. Even if the contents ended up becoming hushed as they entered the dining room, a few cannot help but continue conversations at their table as they wine and dine. The guests begin to take their places at the tables, ensuring the cooks and chefs at the Manson de las Mil Ventana were certainly receiving overtime pay and a bonus.
There was always one who was the last to enter and the gravitas was clear for those around to see. The Duquesa moves up towards the man, giving a bow and offering her arm as she leads him to the position at the head of the table, usually reserved for King Sancho himself.
It was the man most expected to make a presence, the one many have heard about. Duque Duerte of Casa Arslan del Torragon, Guardián del Varrahasta, Protector del Río Arapor, Warden del Reserva Natural de Arapor, Keeper de la Basílica la Llama Sagrada…
As he reaches the seat, the characteristic ring of the bell is done as the room falls into silence.
“Thank you all for attending.”
“It is with great pleasure that business has concluded on his happiest of occasions. Now, before my announcement later this evening, we wish only for this. Eat to your heart's content and indulge in this wine, for we shall celebrate well into the night.”
“Enjoy!”.
Duque Arslan gives the sign as he gestures for those to lower themselves and get comfortable. He is soon seated himself, sitting next to his wife as they chat. Ayla looks somewhat confused by the supposed announcement, but shrugs her shoulders.
She turns to her friends with a big smile. “Right, that can only mean one thing. Expect everything to be in generous portions. Help yourself to anything and everything, though don’t sneak too many bottles out in your bag, Ingrid” She gives her Eskandish friend a teasing wink, though certainly code for some of the others to help themselves this evening.
She also waves Dory down, hoping to cause an opportunity for Zaz and Marci to exchange a few words with the other pair.
Marceline was running late. She'd been at a meeting of one of the student clubs that she was part of and they were already... acting on their goals. The problem was that she now had to walk back from their rather remote location. Marci and 'walking long distances' had had something of a falling out around the time of her eleventh birthday and were unlikely to ever make amends until 'walking' was replaced with 'rolling'. She'd hired a pousse-pousse on her meagre allowance and made it back to her dormitory. She'd washed up a bit and then spent about thrice as long dressing as she usually did. Duque Frannemas had been generous enough to provide each of the five he had sponsored with one respectable dinner outfit and while Marceline's wasn't bad, it was rather plain. That 'brother' of hers would likely be there, for he was a high society type, dressed to the nines and looking down his nose at her for having refused to call herself a Hohenfelter again. Tonto, she thought of him purposely using Torragonese instead of Kerreman. She was Marcelina Escarra, after all.
It was a second rickshaw that took her up to the gates, and she clambered out of it and up the stairs with some assistance from Kinetic magic. Gods, you look stupid. What are you even doing here? You're not high society. You're embarrassing yourself. She was rather tardy on top of everything else and it was almost enough to make her turn on her heel and run the other way. She made it to the door instead, gathered herself, fixed her hair, and tightened a couple of ties on her dress. By Ipte, it was frilly. The sheer... diameter of the thing made it hard to use her cane. Then, came the announcement. "Lady Marceline Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau."
"I-I'm not..." she stammered, running out of words. More than a dozen faces turned her way curiously, including his: Manfred's.
“Marci~”
Called out the Virangishwoman to the rescue. There was a lot going on, notably with Maura dropping the ultimate query with but one word, but with things potentially getting a bit too hot, she had to act. Rising from her seat with her wine glass still between her fingers, she approached the lobby of this exquisite evening to greet her business partner, “Well don’t you just look grand!” she cheered, arms opened upon invitingly, though she quickly closed them with only her free, gold-decorated hand reaching for the tethered’s shoulder before turning herself toward the Matriarch of the Arslans,
“Duquesa, I have the great honour to introduce you to the great mind behind Zeno Bucks, and the heart behind this gift we so graciously offer to you. Marceline Hohenfelter!” she peered over toward Marceline and gave her a knowing smile, “We were to come together, but being that I just can’t help it with my old, roughian girl habits, I opted to just ride on my own and got a head start. Myyy baaaad~” she nodded over at the teen. They weren’t supposed to come together, but the others didn’t have to know that.
"I, uh... yes," replied Marci, finding her stride verbally again. "Though my partner is too kind and, since we're in the business, it was difficult not to share what we do best. I truly hope you like it."
For a moment, she prickled. Zarina had called her that name too and she had glanced away to see his eyes upon her, quickly averting her own. But you shouldn't be! she yelled at her inner self. He's just some rich bully who's used to getting his way and just wants to live in the past with some version of you that either doesn't exist anymore or never did! You don't let people like that push you around. He's no brother.
Then and there, she'd have glared back at him were it not so clearly socially inappropriate. Instead, she engaged her partner and the hostess in a brief, friendly conversation. Marceline found that she had vanishingly little in common with the latter, but the duchess was making an effort and she was a power player in any case and important to have onside. When matters were finished, She teetered over to a chair, feeling a good half-century older than her fourteen years, and all-but threw herself onto it. Ladylike, she scolded herself. "Thanks for the save," she remarked to Zarina, taking in and expelling a deep breath. The fitted nature of her dress compressed her ribcage and the plunging neckline squeezed her chest, giving her breasts like a matron and perhaps the constitution of one as well. "But now I find myself bound to a lie," she huffed, annoyed with her friend but trying to soften her expression. Zaz had been forced to think on her feet. "I am no Hohenfelter." She glared at Manfred's back as he went through the motions of a dance. A few other free-spirited young couples were out on the floor as well. "Nor do I wish to be." She grimaced and shook her head, eye sinking to her lap and fingers twining and untwining themselves. "Sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful."
Zarina clicked her tongue in response to Marci’s thanks and winked at her, “No sweat.” she sat by her business partner and gave a thorough checkout of the room, one leg over the other and her hands knitted together over her abdomen, “Why not?” she asked very casually, her attention still torn between Marceline and the other guests, “It’s a useful name. A tool. One does not need to feel attachment or pride over a mere tool.” her gaze converged with what the Tethered teen had been glaring at, prompting an smug chuckle to escape her, “And they can’t do anything to stop you from using it.”
The Virangishwoman stood up, wine still in hand though nearing emptiness, and oriented herself toward the assortment of wines she sought to serve herself with rather than wait to be served, only to have to wait even more for the servants to get the right bottle, “Anyway. Let’s not get too grumpy, Little bean. Now’s the time to make friends and make good impressions.” she gave a smile to her friend before going for some vintage indulging.
Ayla is getting through multiple people, almost getting lost in the crowd, especially as she is the little one. She ends up orentiating to Zazzy and Marci who she hasn’t greeted yet. She happily extends her arms as she gives Marci a light hug, “mi hermanita - my little sister”, a comment always amusing due to their heights.
“Glad you were both able to make it, and now on that note, we have something special to share.” Ayla puts her box upon the table, as she takes what looks to be a normal piece of bread, then gently sprinkles some of the contents upon it. She happily brings Zaz and Marci a piece, offering it to the pair. “Open wide and try this!”
Upon opening wide, they will find the spratz coated pieces of bread pushed within them mouth to devour and enjoy. “Dory gifted it to me, it is called Spratzpepper! It is grown in her homeland.”
Whatever Marci may have said was interrupted by the arrival of Ayla, who seemed to sense emotional distress like a shark could smell blood in the water and who seemed almost biologically compelled to do something about it. Something delicious was shoved into Marceline's face, protest or not, and her only option was more or less to chew or to choke. Swallowing, she held the bread out before herself. "Ipte, it's delicious," she remarked, glancing Zarina's way. "And, uh, thank you." the younger girl flashed a smile.
"You said it was from Dory?" She blinked incredulously and scanned the gathering, but Dorothea was nowhere to be seen, currently. In any event Marci didn't really know her that well. The few times that Marci had seen her, she'd assumed the Feskan had money, but gifting that much. "Zaz, this wouldn't be something we could introduce as a premium or prestige offering at 'Bucks, would it?"
Zarina returned from her self-serving of white wine, one arm open as she saw Ayla with her friendly associate. The tall Virangish girl scooped the little cub in for a brief but tight embrace, “Hey hey, Kitty cat. What’s this?” she leaned in to nab the piece of bread with her mouth and nommed away, “Mmm. MmmMmm …” then she stopped chewing, eyebrows furrowed.
“More.” she ordered with an intense glare in her eyes, “More.” for the first time this evening the wine glass was dropped as her hand sought out the delicious treat instead, “These are spratz, yeah? You’d be right to think that, Marci.” she spoke with her mouth full, because she wasn’t going to stop enjoying this so long as Ayla provided, “Issue is supply and prices. Every Joe that sells food wants this shit. And for good reason.”
Marceline nodded. "It's aspirational, so it's high prestige and low volume. Not worth it unless we can piggyback an existing supply chain." She furrowed her brow. "Does Dorothea's family already import to the city?"
Let out a playful squeal of growl as she is scooped up by the tall Virangish woman within that tight embrace. She pushes the piece of bread between her lips, the finger making sure it goes right inside as she chews upon it. As the over eager girl starts hunting for more, she playfully boops her on the nose, “Calm down Riesco. You can have more later when we have the treats to match,” giggling playfully towards her.
She answers Marci’s question. “Manfred took her off to the dance floor in a Kerremand style. She is eager to meet you though! May be willing to part with it on very favourable terms.” she smiles widely, "Perhaps we may get an opportunity for introductions."
Marci nodded. "One might hope, because this is divine." She blushed. "May I have another?" There was a mischievous grin after a moment. "I'm lil' and sad and need it so!"
The time came for the yums and Zarina was very much put in the mood by Ayla’s feeding of the spratz bread. Tapas in particular mader her salivate. It all looked so good that she couldn’t help herself! “Don’t mind if I do. Can’t go wrong with a Tosta Tomate.” she uttered with an accurate Torragonese accent. It was a long slice of baguette-like bread with tomato sauce/paste smeared over the surface where it was split in half. She would add bits of queso and jamon over the end of it and take one big bite, progressively eating down the bread with different toppings each bite, “Mmmm~ Try this, Marci.” she waved her topped bread to her friend.
“Nice coincidence, aye? The lady with the Spratz so happens to be the one with your, ahem, brother,” she chatted with Marci, quiet enough to not get any accidental eavesdroppers, “Wanna go and say hello to them?”
Marceline was busy stuffing her face. There had been occasional nice meals at San Agustin, but nothing like this, and not consistently. "So many choices!" she squealed, "and so little time and space in muh tummy." After a quick, wary glance around, she patted it in a most unladylike fashion, grinning.
She and Zarina continued to chat and scheme, until the latter just had to push again. It was bad enough that she insisted on calling Marci 'Hohenfelter' and had put it on the registration for their business. Now, when prodded to speak with that horse's ass, her face became stony. The fourteen-year-old shot her friend a warning glare. "I think it's best if you take the lead on that. I think I'm going to be sick."
Before Zarina could respond, however, she was saved by the bell: the dinner bell. Tapas were served and Marceline's stomach was magically cured. "Okay, nevermind, I'm better now," she chirped, gazing over the smorgasbord, eyes lighting up. "But seriously," she whispered, leaning in as Ayla waved Manfred and Dorothea to seats a good deal closer than Marci would have liked, "it'll only make things awkward if I go talk to them. We need to separate business and personal matters."
“I agree with both your statements.” Zarina replied, one leg over the other and her lips knowing only wine even as the main course was served. The lack of spratz in the food just made it a tad less appetising to a girl far more used to banquets than Marci ever has, “But it looks like business is going to hit close to home, my dear friend. I think the personal-professional separation mantra is one you’ll be learning sooner rather than later.” and then she took a sip, smiling at the two guests that were beckoned over by Ayla.
"Your family...?" Dory inquired. "Should we help her out?"
There she was: Nina, his very best friend and closest confidante for most of his childhood, his beloved sister whose loss had gutted him empty, who he had searched for, whenever an opportunity arose, for years. The correspondence he had sent to so many refuges...
There she was: small and lost and scared. The girl had his sister's face and it broke his heart to see her like that. Yet, she was not his sister. Nina was gone, cruelly erased as a ten-year-old child by evil men in Torragon: alone, lost, and terrified. He could not imagine what her last thoughts might have been, but it filled him with the deepest, blackest rage to think about. This 'Marceline' was a stranger who occupied her body, who suppressed every shred or scrap of his sister that tried to rise to the surface and, much as he counselled himself not to, much as he told himself that it wasn't her fault and that some part of her was still Nina, he hated her for it. This false personality: it was an impostor, a parasite, an abomination and -
"Should we?"
His fists were clenched so tightly that his palms nearly bled. He took a deep breath as the Virangish girl - Zarina, maybe? - swept in to the rescue. "No, not family." He shook his head. "Must've been a name mixup or something. I think she was trying to correct it." He shrugged after a moment. "Anyhow, I think they'll call for dinner soon enough. We're almost into Eshi now. Until then, shall we?" He began to lead her once more through the steps.
"Not family? I don't think there would be a mixup in an event of this scale..."
Manfred wasn't telling her everything and she could not just see it through his expression, but the tone of his voice was something rang amiss in her head. It may just be a gut feeling... But the concept of family is too important to her. She once again held the Kerreman's clenched fist.
"Manfred, I can feel that this is bothering you... Be honest with me, is she family or not? I want to know the truth."
It seems that the Feskan will not let go of the subject matter until he tells her. Her hands tighten their grip on his fist with a determined look on her face.
"If need be, we can find a quiet place if you're not comfortable talking about it here.."
"Just go through the motions," Manfred said quietly, through clenched teeth. "Wait until the song is finished." She was being obnoxious, not knowing when to leave well enough alone, but it also meant that he was not the master of his face right now. Maybe she just cares. The thought struck him out of the blue and, much as he tried to dismiss it, it lingered. The music began to change and he pulled her off to a small adjoining room, where they sat down across from each other at a small table in the light of a large window. "Dorothea, my love," he began, "I mean it when I say that I care for you more deeply than you know, that I think you are a good, strong, beautiful woman. You are right o sense that there is more to this issue, but it is not one that I am prepared to talk about and it would be far better for you to not get involved."
Dorothea could barely get a word out as he made her wait, causing her to click her tongue. What's with his attitude today? There has to be more. Then as the music switched she was pulled away by him. As they sat down the words rang in her ears. "It may be better with me not knowing, but I am here for you... I can see how it is affecting you. Please Manfred, won't you tell me even?" Dory asked him with a reassured smile.
"I do not make it my business to cry over things that cannot be fixed." He shook his head, scowling off to the side. "That... Marceline girl is what they created in the refuge after they erased my sister Nina." He glanced back her way for a split second before taking some of his wine. He clapped the glass down on the table. "Ugh. Perrench swill," he spat. "Anyhow, she is not my sister: merely some little Torragonese beast eager to paint me with the same brush as my awful parents. She has made it quite clear that she wants nothing to do with me and the feeling is very much mutual. Her prickly reaction was because they didn't call her 'Escarra' or whatever she wants to be called." He downed the rest of his wine, grimacing. "Now, that is the last I will hear on the matter. I have spent the past week mulling it over and I admit that I have not been the best companion to you. It is a bitter disappointment, but it is finished and I wish to put it behind me."
"Erased your sister? I don't understand. How can they just erase a person?" Her mind was running all kinds of ways a person could perhaps be erased. If it was truly that easy wouldn't her mother have tried that? Perhaps it has already been done to her and she doesn't even know. "I don't want you to suffer like this again, okay? If you have these regrets, these feelings of sadness. Please talk to me about them, okay?"
Manfred waved her concerns away. He appreciated them, in a sense, but it was not his place to burden her with what were ultimately internal affairs. "They wipe the minds of children sent to those refuges." He shook his head, the moment - the moment it had happened to her - repeating itself in his mind's eye. Nina, precious Nina: witty, spunky, cute, adventurous Nina The last thing she'd known had been either fear or deception. "They take away all of their memories, their personalities, everything that makes them... them, and leave an empty husk that they fill with whatever they like." He shot an angry glance at the back of this 'Marceline'. "That little impostor is the result."
Whatever may have happened next - whatever response Dorothea may have given, it was interrupted by the dinner bell. "I thank you for your concern, my love." He flashed her a smile and took her by the hands. "And I am always here if you need to unburden yourself to me. Now come, let us not be late."
Dorothea's eyes clearly showed her fear at the thought of someone being able to take away their memories... their Self. "I am here for you if this ever starts making you feel like this again." Her lips were somewhat shaky as she tried to keep a warm smile for her partner. It can't be so easy to remove someone is it? And why would they even want a girl from a pretty standard duchy? Nothing added up in her head.
But before she could interject any further, the bell rang and was taken by her hand. "I will keep you at it... Better have some alcohol ready for me to dump all my burdens on you." She gave him a forced smile back.
The conversation with Augusto, Yalen, and Trypano was interrupted by Duquesa Azahara introducing food to the event. A momentary confusion took Ingrid when she looked at the size of the food. Luckily Ayla was quick to clear the confusion and created excitement for Ingrid. What could be more delightful than trying multiple different things from a far off land.
Ingrid turned to Augusto after Ayla had broken her way into the small circle, "Well Augusto, I believe that was all the time we had." She did a light lowering of her head as she made her way out of the group.
She turned to brother Yalen, "Yalen, would you like to explore these Torragonese dishes together?" Trying to help him pull away assuming he may be here for the food.
"Of course Ms. Penderson!" Yalen smiled at her from ear to ear. "The best way to thank our hosts is by taking what we're given. It wouldn't do to put their hard work to waste."
While the appearance of the dishes was something of a culture shock for Yalen, he didn't have any complaints. He'd already had a taste of Torragonese cuisine during the short time he visited the country, and his natural disposition was to be grateful for anything he received freely. Regardless of the amount of food available, each dish looked and smelled amazing. It was clear the chefs were passionate about their work.
"They served these shrimp to us when I visited the refuge, but I never got a chance to taste it." Yalen reached for a plate of the freshly grilled shrimp and held it at arm's length so Ingrid could take her share. Once the two had their portions in hand, he tore the head off his crustacean and sucked the juice straight out.
"Wow! You can really taste the garlic in these." Yalen commented after wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. "I heard you're from Eskand, is that right? How does Torragon's seafood compare to home?"
Ingrid was familiar with some of these creatures that they were eating, though they seemed different probably due to their origin.
"Thank you for the shrimp," Ingrid said as she followed suit. Their was a strong garlic flavor, Ingrid had been growing use to it during her time at the school.
Ingrid was glad to answer Yalen, "Eskandish seafood is something to behold, maybe it was out of necessity since many cannot reliably grow food there but we rely a lot on the sea. Garlic isn't common in Eskand, we much prefer to use herbs and certain flowers for our flavours. And lots of butter. Torragonese seafood is good but I think I prefer the richer flavour of the sea that I get from my homeland."
"What of you Yalen? What Cuisine is common to your homeland," Ingrid inquired as she went to get some of the brined vegetables to help cut through the garlic, offering some to Yalen as he did the shrimp.
"My homeland?" Yalen thought the question over while cleansing his palette with a bite of pickled cucumber. "Miatto's culinary history is a mixed bag, I would say. Most of the food you see in Perrence is also common in Miatto, but that is only a part of the whole picture. Before Perrence's rise to power, our stretch of the continent was inhabited by many of the people who later became the Torragonese and Segonese. There is also a fair amount of Revidian influence, not just in our food but also our language. The Perrench crown is very sore about that point."
"As for what I grew up eating," Yalen continued, "lots of grain and meat. There's plenty of both in Miatto since most of it is farmland. We ate a ton of bread and pasta in the orphanage, and there was beef stew every week. Dairy too, since we had cows. Fishing is plentiful on the northern shores, but I lived in landlocked part of the country." He reached for a plate of fried sardines next, stopping to inhale the spices and citrus juice before biting into one. "Maybe that's why I love to eat fish now. I have to make up for lost time."
Ingrid wasn't the type to interrupt someone so she jut happily listened to Yalen talk about his countries unique cuisine. Ingrid understood that to a certain degree as well considering Eskand took some things they found up north and brought them down home. Now they are just part of the culture that people argue about where they came from.
Seeing that Yalen seemed to have a pretty robust knowledge of his own nations cuisine and a love of fish, "Well, if you are trying to make up for lost time, how about we set up a dinner party of our own? A small one that we each bring something from our homeland. I'm pretty confident in my cooking.”
"A dinner party?" Yalen raised an eyebrow. "That is an unexpected invitation I must say." To buy himself some time to answer he picked up his cup of water and took a long sip. It wasn't that he didn't want to, it was just a very sudden proposition from someone he'd only recently become acquainted with. However, if there was one thing someone could use to bait him into a social gathering it was the offering of food.
"Still, it would be rude of me not to accept. Who else were you thinking of inviting?"
Ingrid responded as Yalen sipped his drink, "I just want to share a meal with people I wouldn't otherwise." Ingrid waited to see what brother Yalen would say and Ingrid was excited. She thought for a moment and said, "Well, I have a close friend named Dory, she is also at this party. Ayla because she is great at making friends and should help if people have some schisms occur. My teammate Desmond since he loves food. And maybe Sven if he has the time." Ingrid has a lot of people she could invite but she should stop, "What about you Yalen? I think anyone would be fine and as many as you like since I'm already inviting so many."
"I would certainly like to see some of the guests here again, especially in a less formal setting." Yalen subtly pointed out a few familiar faces. "We five were sent to Torragon together: Zarina, Ayla, Kaspar, Jocasta, and I. We're not all in the same Zeno group, but we've gained a unique camaraderie thanks to our shared experiences. I've come to enjoy their company very much." After finishing his cup he set it on the table and continued to think. "My friend Isabella might want to come too. You may have seen her linking up with Zarina before. Pigtails. Glasses. A unique sense of... fashion."
Kaspar's presence was subtle. He nodded, lips curved in something barely qualifying as a smile but still bright for his features as Ayla and Maura spoke to him about art, referencing an individual they both seemed to know who, from their gazes looking towards the faint charcoal stains on his fingers, shared a similar medium. His cheeks turned a bare shade or two pinker at their hushed words and giggles, but he allowed them space to speak to each other. Maura complimented his attire and he offered a polite thanks and nod, but both their attentions were shortly pulled elsewhere.
This was alright with the boy, who was not a particularly social creature. He simply observed his companions as they spoke and drifted around, himself taking a turn about the space to nod politely at nobles he didn't recognize out of the expectation that they should acknowledge each other. His parents had given him foundations and his etiquette class was building on it, but nothing could make the boy want to speak with these people.
He was seated again well before the tapas made their way out, and eyed the food in front of him curiously. He observed Ayla keenly as she spoke and then began to eat. Picking out a croqueta himself, he copied her motions near-exactly to ensure he ate it appropriately. He was pleased to find the crisp of the shell mixing expertly with the texture of the inside, flavours mixing in a near-familiar way with an unfamiliar weaving of spice the boy did not commonly eat. It was good, if small—and his eyes were already scanning for others who seemed to eat politely, studying the manner in which they did so for his own benefit.
Kaspar was more than pleased for a snack that could be eaten with hands rather than silverware. He ate the chorizo concoction, being sure to take more sophisticated bites than was his natural inclination.
The food was, of course, delicious. Kaspar was not one to limit his palate, though certain items were quite a bit more familiar. He’d enjoyed much of what he ate at San Agustin de las Arenas, and the chorizo seemed of a similar nature. But as the taste danced across his tongue it seemed to drag at different memories. Heavy shadow and painful brightness. Flashes of hot blood on hot Torragonese sand. Reaching out into the abyss and for the briefest of moments cradling what was found there.
The thoughts (or were they memories?) mixed with the meat and tang on his tongue, fading like distant humming before it was gone. For a moment it was perplexing, and a note of curiosity pulled down at his lips and brows, but there was much to be done here—and it seemed that the Duke was finally making his appearance.
An announcement? That brought a different sort of curiosity to the boy who knew little of his friend’s family or father. As he dined his eyes still often hovered on Ayla and her conversation partners, but darted towards the Duke with increasing frequency, trying to read the face and the body of the man for any sort of tell.
Zarina stood and politely bowed to the two, offering her hand to Manfred should he wish to take it for gentleman’s greeting, and then sat back down, “Dorothea and Manfred, enchanted. I’m Zarina. I’ve heard great things about you two.” her eyes were focused onto Dory in particular, “Your dress is something, love, but I don’t even have the vocabulary to describe how much I find your hair ravishingly beautiful.” and another sip down the Virangish drain, “So, Ayla tells me you’re both from down South. I must confess, I’ve never been but I hear the sea is truly something to behold there.”
Dory couldn't help but smile from the words from the woman addressing her. "Do you really think so?" Her smile disappeared somewhat as panic set in. Quickly leaning forward to not have to say it too loudly. "Ayla hasn't said too much embarrassing stuff about me, right?"
“Oh, Vashdal as my witness, I can safely say she would never say such things!” Zarina replied as Dory joined them. She let her wine sit on the surface before her and kept herself comfortable on her seat, “I just tasted some of those Spratz Ayla had on bread and, mmmm …” she formed an ‘OK’ sign with her hand, “I’ve rarely tasted better. Feskan delicacies are something. And she tells me you’re Feskan yourself! How lovely.” she smiled.
Manfred squeezed Dorothea's hand. "She is, indeed. Very Feskan, one could say. Dear..." he turned to her, "she has a demand; you have a supply. Might there be an opportunity here?"
"You're going to Djamant?" Jocasta knew she was from there. She had fragmented memories of the place: the arid, grassy fields full of wildflowers, the prickly pear cacti thrusting up into the sun, the gnarled olive and cypress trees overlooking the rocky coast and the squawk of gulls. "It's pretty, I've heard, but there isn't all that much there... aside from the honey, some jewellers, and a few old ruins."
Maura gives her a look as if expecting a different answer. However, before Maura would provide Jo an answer to her question, the Duque himself has weighed in with his words on the matter. "It seems we are finding out after the meal, but you didn't hear from me." She gives Jo a knowing wink, "We will be travelling there a lot, one would imagine. Let 's hope the beaches and festivals are as fun as they say they are."
Left rather clueless, Jocasta responded with a polite, "I'm sure you shall enjoy it greatly. I spent some of my early childhood there and it is beautiful indeed, if a bit small for a party of your eminence."
She tilted her head and regarded Maura in earnest. "But why ever might you be travelling there regularly?" she inquired. She glanced at Ayla's way, hoping for a rescue, but her friend seemed... oddly confused as well and, presently had busied herself with trying to wave down a pair of Kerremans who she was not well-acquainted with.
Maura offers a plate towards Jo which had a Pastizz upon it with a smile. She casually starts to indicate towards the other nobles in the room. There are a few of what you would expect in a gathering like this, primarily all from the Central Alliance and a few neutral countries, but there were an unexpected number of those who appeared to be Djamantese in a gathering of this size. Outside of Ayla and her friends, it looks like the others came with an entirely different purpose. "Though for ourselves, was meaning you and myself travelling together for an entirely different purpose, make sure you drink plenty of the wine."
Jocasta merely blinked, unsure what to make of the cryptic comment and none too comfortable with her future actions being spoken about with such certainty. "We shall see what adventure the future holds, I suppose." She smiled weakly back.
She couldn't help it. She wasn't sure why. There was just something about Maura - something calculated, calculating, despite her outward friendliness - that Jocasta all-but instinctually resisted warming to. Now, she would have to choke down a pastizz, because all Djamantese loved them.
There were a good dozen or so here: small, stout, and swarthy, stuffing their faces with the most fattening foods they could find and jabbering on in their annoying language. She barely spoke it anymore and their mere presence made her feel like a fraud. Play nice, she warned herself. People are watching.
Ayla seems to appear out of nowhere as she places her arms around the pair, embracing them. “Was about to introduce both my besties, good to see you have already met!”, she squeezes upon their shoulders as she whispers softly, “Don’t tell Zazzy that, she might get jealous” giving the pair a wink. She moves forward to take one of the Pastizzi, biting into the treat. “Mamá has given me a book on Djamantese cooking, so been serving up these treats as practice for the Pumpernickel clubbe, what do you both think?”
Maura bites into the pastry goodness, smiling as she looks towards Jo, “What do you think, would you take her as your housewife with this cooking?” Ayla gives Maura a look and a shh, “Don’t try to embarrass my baking”.
"You know," replied Jocasta, taking a bite and suppressing her gag reflex - they were just so fatty - she smiled and chewed, giving herself time to think. Surely, she wouldn't be expected to speak with food n her mouth. For what it was worth, Ayla had actually done a decent job with the vile dish. The pastizzi weren't greasy. Jocasta could not immediately feel the fat choking her arteries. Then, she had it: honesty!
"I'm going to to be honest," she continued belatedly. "It's blasphemy to say for a Djamantese, but I actually don't like pastizzi at all." She didn't have to fake her blush. "Never admitted it before now out of sheer embarrassment." She flashed her friend an apologetic look. "But, in the same spirit of honesty, I'll also admit that you somehow managed to make these little fat bombs palatable." Jocasta rolled her eyes. "Never thought I'd see the day." With a little smile, she took a second bite. "No chance you'd let me in on what the big secret is here, huh?" She gestured generally around the gathering.
Maura smiles, “That was a yes”, bringing forward a bottle to top their glasses up, as if doing an impromptu toast. Ayla ignores the teasing a moment as she looks around the room, not appearing to be overly concerned with what is going on, “Politics. Diplomacy. They want to secure the sea lanes if there is an outbreak of war, Djamante is the prize they are after. With them on side, the Virangish fleet will have a harder time entering the waters of the Central Alliance. Lots of platitudes. Announcement will be a promise or trade deal of some kind, sabre rattling.” she rolls her eyes a moment to the schemes afoot. “What is important was persuading the Duque to invite a ‘few’ friends over for a treat, and enjoy some good food for a change. So feel free to eat what you can! We need that energy for the trials”.
The Announcement
The plates were being removed from the room as those present had dined well and the conversations started to die down. There was a buzz within the dining hall as the guests were starting to eagerly anticipate what is about to happen next. It was as if on cue, the Duque raises to his feet, the bell chiming as silence descends on the room.
“It is great to have so many gathered on such an auspicious occasion, having so many friends gathered under one roof, including half the academy.” A chuckle rings through the room as eyes gather to the table occupied by Ayla and her friends. “A warm thank you for the de la Mantoline family who travelled for this occasion as well.”
On the right-hand side of the Duque is a well-dressed gentleman of some apparent importance who nods, mouthing thank you to the gathered guests as a show before indicating something towards the Duque. Duarte appears to concede the floor to him as he indicates for Ayla, Azahara and the other Arslans to come to him at the head table. Ayla simply follows the instructions given
The gentleman stands up as he speaks to the room. “Hello hello, and I guess, welcome to the Banquet”, he gives a big but slightly awkward smile towards the crowd. “For you who don’t know me, my formal title is Marchesino Alexandre de la Mantoline, graduated from this academy as Alta Summa cum Laude. You know my writings on the subjects of the Twin-Continents, Callanst, Tarlon, and beyond.”
There is some whispering in the hall as a bonafide respected academic is being presented before them, the others who know him well pouring out more wine into their glasses.
Alexandre starts to bring out a map, presenting it as it is covered in various drawings and scrawling towards the room. “These routes are important for what we will deem merchant activities, and not forgetting the marine wildlife living along the coastlines, such as the Mihalu Striped Dugong who often pair for the mating season… oh, and over here is a nest of Kabus Al’ard which I discovered”, he continues to point and circle at various sections of the map, whatever the original topic was, it now gone on a tangent of the wildlife along the Virangish coastline.
After a few well placed coughs and muted comments, Alexandre ends up on track to the subject at hand. “Where were we? These shipping routes are important to those of Djamante, Varrahasta, and beyond. It is important that these be secured. It was an opportunity to be in a room of good faith actors who shared my concerns and agreed to work together to resolve these difficulties. In my discussions with Duque Arslan of Varrahasta, House De la Mantoline will fully cooperate on efforts to ensure the integrity of the coastal passage.”
There is a round of applause at both the positive conclusion and that a conclusion has been obtained. Duque Arslan moves alongside Alexandre, shaking his hand whilst putting his other hand upon his shoulder. “After an exchange of many letters, a great many, we of Casa Arslan have come to greatly appreciate the work and knowledge obtained for our future generations. It is when you get to know an enterprising man like this, you cannot help but think of him like a son”.
There is a muted silence as Duque Arslan holds his hand out towards Ayla. She looked puzzled as she tentatively placed her hand on his. It is at this moment that the Duque took Alexandre’s hand, combining the hands together as they were left holding upon each other. “We would like to announce the joining of Casa Arslan with House de la Mantoline with the betrothal of Alexandre to my daughter, Ayla.”
Ayla herself looks shell shocked, looking around as if she was caught in some elaborate prank as Alexandre raises up her hand, “For all it is worth, this is the true prize of the announcement”
The room is filled with applause and cheers as the betrothal has been formally announced.
Dory
"Spratz on bread? I guess I should've brought some of my baked goods with me then." Dorothea couldn't help but chuckle from the thought of Spratz on bread being a delicacy, perhaps her taste buds have been spoiled by the access of Spratz. As her hand was squeezed, she looked at Manfred before smiling back at Zarina. "Well, I could ask for a bigger shipment if you wish to acquire some yourself. We'll just have to sort-..."
Dory's voice faded from the sheer silence that spread through the room. Soon enough her eyes were focussed on the Duque as his voice rang through the hall. Has the time truly past that quickly already that the main event has started?
De la Mantoline? I thought it was about Ayla and the Arslans? Perhaps they were a family well acquainted with the Arslan family or rather that young man a friend in and of itself of the Duque?
The announcement of a cooperation does not sound that bad but why does it come with such a weird feeling in the stomach? It wasn't long before the true part of this slimy party showed it's colours and a chill ran down her spine. Verdammt! Why this, of all things!? Her hand squeezed Manfred's rather tightly before leaning into his ear and whispering. "Do not let go of my hand or I will show that Flachwichser 'the true prize'..."
Kaspar
Kaspar listened to Alexandre with interest. Knowledge was of interest to him, though the noble was more partial to plants over maps. Much of what the scholar seemed to be speaking of related to trade routes—things that he would need to pay attention to, if he intended to take over the position of Marquis. As tenuous as that situation was… It wasn’t like the boy had anything else to do but listen.
It was the Duque’s response that made something in the boy’s stomach twist like sickness. The way he was speaking, the honey-sweet words of politics that he’d never acquired a taste for. But to say that he was like a son? And as his hand reached for Ayla’s… The heat roiled beneath his breastbone and burned against his skin. His mind registered the words though he wasn’t sure he could hear them through the ringing in his ears.
Arms wrapped around him from behind, cheek warm against his shoulder through the thin Refuge cloth. Naranja juice burning against a bloody palm. Sitting atop sandstone buildings gazing out across the desert. Screeching half-faced beasts swooping from above. Food and friendship, a gift and a promise and a familj.Hot blood on hot hands on hot Torragonese sand.
Something dug into the palm of his hand—had he always been holding the fork, or had he just grabbed it?—and a harsh bolt of rage shot through Kaspar. Two ends of a fork clattered quietly to the table, the middle utterly gone and a slight swell in his boiling blood. Red eyes stared straight ahead, past the Duque and his “son” and Ayla, unseeing and empty as her face played over and over in his mind, the surprise upon it… A chilling wind against his cold, stoic features, every muscle settled in place beneath the coating of frost.
Yalen
Yalen was familiar with the name Alexandre even if he didn't know the man personally. He was an avid reader of holy texts, but he did more general study on the side as well. Someone as famous as Mr. Mantoline had an entire shelf dedicated to him in Ersand'Enise's grand library, so his reputation preceded him. The young monk listened curiously as the scholar explained the significance of Djamante's trade routes, having never been in the same room as a bonafide celebrity before. He joined the positive round of applause as Duque Arslan and his protégé shook hands.
However, the announcement that followed stunned him into silence. He had not been warned that Ayla's engagement would be announced today. She hadn't even hinted at it. Was it meant to be a surprise to her friends? Yalen looked at her expecting her to return a knowing smile, to clap her hands and yell "Surprise!" However, what he saw instead was a look of terror and disbelief. That was enough for him to deduce that this was a plot by her family and had nothing to do with her opinions on marriage. Yalen was a priest, but he knew what Ayla was going through. His cousin Carol was forced to break up with her boyfriend last year after her father handed her off to a gentleman in the capital. He and his father Charles were only spared the politics of the Castel family thanks to their status as clergymen and their distance from the family's main estate.
Zarina Business already? Zarina smirked at Dory's disposition, however any sort of progress that could be made in this exchange was dashed by the sudden announcement by the Patriarch of the Arslans himself. Zarina leaned back on her seat, wine back in hand and her head craned slightly toward Marci's direction, “I've seen this before. Always leaves a few shocked.” she whispered with confidence without spoiling the outcome.
The betrothal was announced just as Zarina had indulged in about half of the white in her drink, and then raised her glass at the occasion. Some were surprised, some distraught, others cheering. It was oddly neither hot nor cold for Zaz if one referred to her disposition and tone, “At least they didn't wait until she fell in love.” muttered the Virangishwoman, words as hollow as the glass she had guzzled down. Already she was seeking a refill, “She's going to need a few of these, probably.”
Ingrid The party was becoming more prestigious with the new guests making appearance. Although Ingrid had little connection to Torragonesse noble circles, she could still recognize some of the affluent party goers. Nerves were building as Ingrid felt something was off but she has no idea why.
Marchesino Alexandre de la Mantoline, Ingrid was stunned by his appearance at the party. He was not only an Alta Summa cum Laude, something already deserving of immense respect, he was also an accomplished explorer. Ingrid of course knew of him, her own goal was to reach that title herself. But him being here was odd. This wasn't an academic environment, and although he did get to speak heavily on his own discoveries Ingrid could feel a twist in her stomach as she felt he was here for much more than a lesson dugongs.
Ingrid has seen this so many times, to her cousins, to her aunts, to the few friends she had. The normal disregard for this was filled with sympathy for Ayla. They were barely friends but Ingrid could see this was a terrible surprise for Ayla. Ingrid held her wine and simply watched. She would not clap for surprising your daughter with a betrothal. It didn't matter what she did right now anyways, Ingrid was just a noble girl from Eskand, she had no weight here.
Zarra went into the Melon Derby with no real strategy in mind. While he had grasped that he would ultimately steal some melons at some point, the ultimate fact was there wasn't really anything they could do against the more powerful teams So rather than go in with an idea that would likely ultimately fail upon clashing with the enemy, he just said screw it. This would ultimately be disastrous later.
In the first 2 hours of the derby, Zarra spent his time exploring the Castle outside and Merchant Dorms. He took his time with it, only phasing to get in an hour of the buildings with ease. he got quite a few high priority melons. However, the biggest they acquired was actually Desmond's, Zarra's timely intervention prevented its capture form the Covenant, continuing to sour the relationships between the 2 teams.
The 3rd hour is when it all went to hell. Zarra, still at the base had just finished helping Dorisay bind a melon into another melon, caught Ayla running passed their dorm with the dreaded Supreme Melon. This was his chance at his first theft. It went poorly, after taunting her, Ayla quickly got her barrings and Zarra was swiftly knocked unconscious by the Lioness, and comically drawn on. Ismette had to come and save him, and he was out for the rest of the hour.
Not long after the turn of the 4th hour, Chad, Evander, and Tyrel had come to their base of operations and tried parading like they owned the place. Ismette and the others fortunately held them back, but not before Zarra got to see a demon for the first time. He prays it will be the only. His interaction with the Ice King altercation was ultimately minimal. All he knew when sensing the very air around him freeze was that this was going to end poorly. He called a Zeno using magnet magic to make letters into the sky. It seemed to have worked, as he had gone back inside and found the Ice King running for the hulls and Hugo there in his place. Hugo was nice enough to not dox them all points for essentially destroying their own dorm.
Zarra, having felt rather useless so far, attempt to spend the final hour stealing melons from Afraval, with the unlikely ally of Tyrel. However, their inevitable elemelon find was short-lived. As they were both bum rushed by 7 of the team's members. Zarra tried in vain to snag and go, but rather than accept defeat, he deliberately and desperately took a brutal blow from another player, spitefully making them lose points. He headed back after recovering and gave up. He had one job and he utterly failed it.
(post is unfinished, is simply at a placeholder rn)
Collab with @YummyYummy Khaliun was the one to make the first move from team Pravda and the others, even the de facto leader Vasily, obediently followed. For such a silent and overall small presence, she appeared to command a lot of authority with the mysterious veil around her person flashing every red flag in a stranger’s head that something was definitely being hidden from the world. She held Yuliya’s hand when the gong rang, solidifying the collaboration between the two teams before the hour of planning could commence.
Zarina seemed to take the lead in that regard, providing ample opportunity for Khaliun to subtly drag the Sanguinaire a few feet away and under pavillon. At first she said nothing, merely levitating very close to the royal blonde. But before any break of the silence by Yuliya, Khaliun would cut her off, ”Your father weeps, Your Grace.” she uttered with a deep but still feminine voice in Vossoriyan, hushed just enough to be heard but easily drowned by the uproar surrounding them, ”Vossoriya would weep even more should it lose its Princess.” she added, turning her head to the princess. The shade provided by her hood lessened in efficiency from this close, revealing parts of Khaliun’s tanned jawline, ”It’s already lost its mother - Its queen.”
Yuliya cocked an eyebrow. The last thing she’d expected to see coming to the meet was a sentry from the palace. She did not object to being dragged away, nor did she object to the conversation. It had been so long since she’d gotten to speak her native tongue, that she almost relished the small lecture, In fact, she was. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t homesick, to say that she didn’t miss the weather, the shade of the palace, the sun setting sooner, the Lednikrayva, and most importantly, her family.
”I would not die here, sentry. I have taken many precautions to keep my identity a secret, and these events are reportedly non-violent. That being said, do any of your teammates know? About me, I mean.” she spoke, looking the girl over. Her head was glad that the girl had seized such initiative, but her thoughts weren’t occupied with that presently. All she could think of currently was her family. The tale of her father weeping worried her, even if it was metaphorical.
”No.” Khaliun immediately answered the question, ”But a well-dressed Vossoriyan girl will raise questions. I will keep them silent.” reassured the sentry as her eyes turned back to the group that was too caught up in planning to take notice of this brief absence, ”Not non-violent. Non-lethal.” she corrected with the same direct and monotonous tone she had been employing thus far, ”The games are not what concern us.”
Khaliun conspicuously oriented her attention toward a few teams that had made an echo even before the event. CUBED, Covenant, Vyshta’s favoured … These were not normal student teams, even among prodigies. Something was very off about this year and it was certainly not reassuring to the crown, ”Few take kindly to the existence of those with your blood, Your Grace.” she remarked as she let her index slide over the wooden railing of the pavillon, only to scoop quite a bit of dust she would brush away with her thumb, ”So many will use this noise - this chaos to exact things they wouldn’t be able to otherwise do in the Free City.” steam erupted from the darkness created by the hood as Khaliun loudly sighed, ”Be careful, Princess Yuliya. I can only do so much outside of home.”
The blonde girl cocked her head as she talked and looked over the others, taking in her words. She was concerned - as she should be - but was it because she thought little of her abilities? Or because she thought highly of the others? There were some strong ones out there. The group had been considering Cubed purely for the one in the parka, and she’d felt something off about one of the church teams, Alas, she shrugged her shoulders. She was thankful that she had a watchful eye near her, but she was not nearly as paranoid as her sentry.
”You’re very sweet, Khaliun. But you should be participating in the event without worry. I can handle myself, and I bet it’s rare for you to get a moment off like this. Enjoy it to the fullest.” she spoke, her more serious face switching to a smile. ”But, while we still have a moment, do tell me. How is Papa and Andrei? Is their condition stable?”
”Deteriorating.” she claimed with no reservations, ”But taking it in stride. Only the sentry and Head Advisor Raskolov are aware. We’re keeping it that way.” Khaliun began to float forward, aiming to reconnect with the team, ”I am not here for fun. I am here to ensure your safety. And if possible-” she halted but didn’t turn her head, ”Bring you back home.”
She frowned, though only slightly. She’d expected as much. It still made the news no more easier to hear. And this talk about coming back home? She’d not have it. And she’d let it be known.
”There are few that take kindly to my blood. There are few that can do anything about it.” she spat confidently. ”And I will not quit here. My job’s not done. ” she spoke, softening her voice so that the others could not hear, as she spoke to the back of the cloak. She took a deep breath and got closer to the girl before she left for good and regrouped with her teammates, to leave one last parting message.
”Your princess commands you - enjoy yourself.” she whispered with a grin, before leaning back once more on the pavilion.
There was a desire to deliver an important lesson to the royal blood she had pledged herself to, but Khaliun abstained. Her hooked fingers, looking just about ready to squash something invisible in her palm, eventually relaxed. It wasn’t her place to act. Another steamy exhale escaped her, and she silently departed the little hideout and sought out the team. Zarina was enthusiastically introducing the dragons they would be using while Olga hatched up a convenient plan with Kaspar to maximise normal melon production, ensuring victory even without a single rare melon. Khaliun remained a discreet, ghost-like presence for most of the time, serving her role as defender and long range attacker as she always did, even if the only contested thing was a melon. (To be continued)
LOCATION: Noble Dormitories INTERACTIONS: Willa @Wolfieh, Mentions of Ayla @Ti
Kaspar had journeyed back from the Manson de las Mil Ventanas the perfect picture of a stiff-backed noble, cool eyes concealing the turmoil within, rage at a situation that was not his to rage at. He closed the door to his dormitory with perfectly reasonable force, thank you very much, despite the way two draconic heads poked themselves up from the blankets surrounding the still-shelled Varmkorv. He paced to and fro, fingers itching, and took only a few minutes to realize what he desperately needed.
The boy ventured to his room and sat cross-legged upon his bed, still in all his finery, charcoal moving swiftly across the page as he sketched. His mind was barely registering what the noble was drawing, lines connecting and pulling from memory without hesitation. It wasn’t until a knock sounded at the door, some hour or more later, that he set aside the paper on the dining table as he passed it. Charcoal-coated fingers grasped the knob, pulling it open, and he looked coolly at his tutor before stepping aside and allowing her in.
“How did it go?” she asked, walking into the dormitory with a slight smirk. Eyes fell to the dining table and the drawing on top, and the smirk grew. “I suspect it went… quite well,” she remarked, holding up the paper.
Kaspar didn’t need to turn and look to remember the portrait. A finely-crafted rendition of Ayla, as she had looked the first time they spoke. White space like the sunlight in her hair, charcoal lines pulling at it like the gentle wind had, an essence to her features that spoke to a personality he had not yet known that day. He could almost hear her teasing voice, “Draw me like one of your Perrench girls.”
He’d never held interest in drawing a Perrench girl—nor a portrait of anyone. Not until today. And then, only one of a Torragonese girl.
Kaspar didn’t turn. Instead, he unclasped the cloak from around his neck, gold details dirtied by charcoal that would need washing, and hung it on a wall hook. “It was a dinner. Food was eaten, shoulders rubbed, families met. They announced Ayla’s betrothal, and I spoke with Augsuto about the derby,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Ayla? The one you had that date with? She is betrothed, and didn’t tell you?” Willa asked sharply, head tilting in indignation.
It was then that Kaspar turned, gently grabbing the portrait from Willa without even looking at it, and returning it to the table. “She did not know,” he replied, moving past his tutor to the fireplace, grabbing up the stone striker and attempting to kindle a blaze within. “I won’t ask how you knew about the picnic, but it wasn’t a date,” he added as the kindling caught and began to creep towards the logs already in place. He straightened, pacing towards the shelves containing his cookware, and pulled out a teapot.
“Did you want it to be?”
He didn’t stop scooping water into the pot, but stayed silent as he affixed it to a hook above the fire. Crouching, staring into the flames, Kaspar said softly, “What I want… Does not matter.”
The Melon Derby
He threw himself into practicing for the Derby harder than ever—most days now melons made for an egregious portion of his meals (and all of his dragons’) as the boy worked on creating them with Binding, better each time. They were used to train the small contingent of dragons Team You Could Never had obtained, and sent home with teammates afterward.
The day of the Derby, Kaspar was relocated to a more stagnant role, which was perfectly fine by his count. It was more… social than the boy was used to, dealing with Zeno Bucks customers and exchanging melons for specialized merchandise created by his own manas, but he hunkered down and dealt with it. He was not alone, as Olga remained in the building to grow melons, and the two chatted back and forth in Eskandish, initially discussing tactics but soon transitioning to more mundane topics. He asked for her opinion on the name Varmkorv and while she didn’t respond, he could hear the disgusted sigh over the chattering outside.
They went over the names of his other dragons too—The grape dragon, Tomsøthet1 made her laugh. Blåbærterte2 was suitably adorable for the small Blueberry. Finally, for the Raspberry Drake, she agreed that Feit-og-Sint3 was fitting, if not flattering.
Zarina’s anger partway through the Derby was met, at least on Kaspar’s part, with signature level-headedness. “You want revenge, yes. But why half-ass it?” He turned from the counter for a moment, shrugged, and added, “If we turn everyone against them, we may defeat them now. If we turn them against each other, their difficulties grow in every way.”
Despite the advice, the noble boy left his team to do most of the aggressing. When envoys were sent out to other Zeno houses, he nearly asked to go to Zeno Zemana’s, simply for the chance to speak with Ayla. But, knowing it was neither the time nor the place, he instead followed Kol to speak with Marci’s team. On the way to the Zeno's house, Kaspar asked for his opinion on Varmkorv. Kol seemed to think it was a fantastic name, but laughed far harder than Kaspar thought it called for. After speaking with Marci, she was not fully amiable to the suggested plan, but helped in her own way—and that was enough for Kaspar.
In the end, Team Afraval and Team Pravda Æresvaktr came in third place—which, with the first place team holding the Melon Supreme, felt more like a second place. Not that their strategies were lacking, but given the near-guaranteed win the Supreme granted, no one had much chance of topping it. Zeno Mozaru’s students and Blaze of Glory were in a league all their own—for now, at least.
1— Empty Sweetness 2— Blueberry Tart 3— Fat-and-Angry
Kaspar is handling Ayla's betrothal... well. There totally aren't any feelings involved, and he definitely doesn't want to kill the GM insert Marchesino Alexandre de la Mantoline.
Olga thinks Kaspar's an idiot, Kol thinks he's a genius and a comedian.
Their team comes in third place.
Also, enjoy the pet I obtained in a (modded) Minecraft server, and promptly named Varmkorv
