OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
The Tipsy Troodon was on the far edge of the town, down the muddy road past vine covered buildings and a variety of trees interspersed between the buildings. It was difficult to catch sight through the storm but some lightning flashes showcased a sprawling market, mostly stalls shuttered against the storm, as they hurried past and individual homes across from it. As the few who braved the storm pushed on, they’d notice a small ball of electricity floating around them that continued to expand. A status icon called “Static Charge” appeared and a player near Cecilia was suddenly struck by lightning after the orb grew to the size of his head. A few seconds later, a few more players were struck, most of their health disappearing as the wind snatched their strangled cries from their throats.
A quick duck into a door frame almost immediately dispelled the effect but drastically slowed their movement. Eventually, they made it to their destination: The Tipsy Troodon a flapping wooden sign declared. The few stairs up to the building’s porch could be heard over the storm as they protested under the weight of any adventurer. A few rocking chairs laid on their side, obviously forgotten before the storm.
The inside was rather small, only five or six round tables scattered around, and the bar stools had seen better days. The bar itself had long gashes cut into it and chunks and bits missing around the sides. A few pictures hung askew around the otherwise plant filed walls, a variety of flowers decorating the creeping vines, and more than one pot collected the drips that leaked through patches in the ceiling.
“What are you foolish creatures doin’ outside when the Rathan is lurking here 'bouts?” An older woman snapped form behind the bar, glaring at travelers that let the rain in for even a moment. “Even those bothrian know better! ‘Ey girl, we have company!” The woman, name tagged as Nerile, shouted back into a door behind the bar. A brief clanging could be heard and a young woman, tagged Anu, came dashing out, a bright smile on her face as she zipped around and welcomed the adventurers in out of the storm while taking orders for drinks and food. She frequently pointed to the sign above the bar, where it listed options and prices. Nerile gave a fond huff as the younger woman scurried about before she turned her attention to River, casting a critical eye over him.
“You look like a drowned Chitter. Nerile commented bluntly as she cleaned out a glass with a not so clean piece of cloth. “Whatcha havin’?
- Chitter and Java root stew: 4 cp
- Bread: 2 cp
- Sliced Boni Fruit: 3 cp
- Wekke Ale: 5 cp
- Water: 1cp
- One Night: 3 cp
- One Week: 1sp, 8cp
+Room includes single bed, unlocked chest, bedside table with candle.
+May purchase bath water for room for 2 cp or warm bath water for 4cp
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
Outside
Suddenly, the lightning ceases and the wind and the rain quiet down. A massive roar ripped across the town, buildings and trees shaking slightly in its wake, and the Static Charge debuff vanished.
Inn
The NPCs stilled for a moment as a mighty roar resounded in the Inn, holding for a few moments before sighing in relief, and resuming their duties. Anu nodded as he accepted the payments and rushed off to fill their orders. Nerile nodded at the calming storm outside.
“The Rathan’s a mighty beast full of lightning and fury. Always know when its here abouts when the storms so bad. Lurks in the rivers and comes out to feed on the Chitters and the Welkin and sometimes the big Maledoeons when its belly pains demand it.” Nerile shrugged as she took the coin and deposited eight room keys in front of him. They were all in poor condition, a bit dented and bent. Each one had a big wooden tag with a number between 1 and 8. “Let me know when you’re ready for the water and which room you want it in. Anu and Drash will bring it up. Fruit will be out in a jiffy.”
More people started meandering in once the storm let up and the bar filled up quickly, most people edging away from a great axe wielding guy at the end. He wore low grade armor and stared into the bar after ordering a cup of ale in a small voice.
“Don’t cause no trouble or I’ll haul you out myself.” Nervile warned him as she slammed down his cup, sloshing some of the ale onto the bar.
His name was red.
Guild Hall
As Cecilia ran, feeling the wind whip around her as she pushed herself faster and faster against the odds, her static charge grew and grew and grew. She stepped onto the bridge just past the first watch tower on the edge of town and the heavens opened up. In a blinding flash of white, a deafening roar, and boiling heat, lightning arced between the clouds and struck.
Next to Cecelia.
Half a hair to the left and Cecilia would have been struck. The small “Evade!” notice popped up and the charge restarted. The air around her still boiled for half a moment before the wind and rain whisked it away and the sharp cold returned. Another flash of lighting in the distance and another…
No boom, no epic crash. Instead, a roar that shook the ground reverberated across the storm torn world and in the next flash of lightning, Cecilia could see it. A towering monster half submerged in the wide river the bridge spanned. A massive fin rose from it’s back with lightning dancing across it and the worst of the storm writhed above it. It let out another mighty roar and sank into the depths of the river. As it did, the storm lessened, the wind all but stilled and the rain slowed to a drizzle. The Static Charge notice vanished.
The Guild Hall was only a few minutes past the bridge, with nothing more than a little mud hampering the journey. Unlike the rest of the town, the Guild Hall was a towering building of marble and stone but various plants still climbed it’s surface. A towering double door opened as a Player approached it and inside was as elegant as it was on the outside. A long single hall ending in a set of stairs and a full sized window overlooking the story sea greeted all those who entered, a variety of doors on the left side leading further into the building while a long counter was on the right and a few NPCs sat behind them. Two NPCs however, Dracion and Rania, stood towards the left side and seemed to be discussing something serious despite Rania’s periodic chuckling.
Suddenly, the lightning ceases and the wind and the rain quiet down. A massive roar ripped across the town, buildings and trees shaking slightly in its wake, and the Static Charge debuff vanished.
Inn
The NPCs stilled for a moment as a mighty roar resounded in the Inn, holding for a few moments before sighing in relief, and resuming their duties. Anu nodded as he accepted the payments and rushed off to fill their orders. Nerile nodded at the calming storm outside.
“The Rathan’s a mighty beast full of lightning and fury. Always know when its here abouts when the storms so bad. Lurks in the rivers and comes out to feed on the Chitters and the Welkin and sometimes the big Maledoeons when its belly pains demand it.” Nerile shrugged as she took the coin and deposited eight room keys in front of him. They were all in poor condition, a bit dented and bent. Each one had a big wooden tag with a number between 1 and 8. “Let me know when you’re ready for the water and which room you want it in. Anu and Drash will bring it up. Fruit will be out in a jiffy.”
More people started meandering in once the storm let up and the bar filled up quickly, most people edging away from a great axe wielding guy at the end. He wore low grade armor and stared into the bar after ordering a cup of ale in a small voice.
“Don’t cause no trouble or I’ll haul you out myself.” Nervile warned him as she slammed down his cup, sloshing some of the ale onto the bar.
His name was red.
Guild Hall
As Cecilia ran, feeling the wind whip around her as she pushed herself faster and faster against the odds, her static charge grew and grew and grew. She stepped onto the bridge just past the first watch tower on the edge of town and the heavens opened up. In a blinding flash of white, a deafening roar, and boiling heat, lightning arced between the clouds and struck.
Next to Cecelia.
Half a hair to the left and Cecilia would have been struck. The small “Evade!” notice popped up and the charge restarted. The air around her still boiled for half a moment before the wind and rain whisked it away and the sharp cold returned. Another flash of lighting in the distance and another…
No boom, no epic crash. Instead, a roar that shook the ground reverberated across the storm torn world and in the next flash of lightning, Cecilia could see it. A towering monster half submerged in the wide river the bridge spanned. A massive fin rose from it’s back with lightning dancing across it and the worst of the storm writhed above it. It let out another mighty roar and sank into the depths of the river. As it did, the storm lessened, the wind all but stilled and the rain slowed to a drizzle. The Static Charge notice vanished.
The Guild Hall was only a few minutes past the bridge, with nothing more than a little mud hampering the journey. Unlike the rest of the town, the Guild Hall was a towering building of marble and stone but various plants still climbed it’s surface. A towering double door opened as a Player approached it and inside was as elegant as it was on the outside. A long single hall ending in a set of stairs and a full sized window overlooking the story sea greeted all those who entered, a variety of doors on the left side leading further into the building while a long counter was on the right and a few NPCs sat behind them. Two NPCs however, Dracion and Rania, stood towards the left side and seemed to be discussing something serious despite Rania’s periodic chuckling.
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
“You are single handedly the reason I drink.” Willow sighed at River. She would have preferred everyone took the night and rested. Just because their stats were topped off, the game still demanded they sleep and eat. After a huge battle, she’d rather play it safe but if everyone was insisting they push on then they would push on. She downed the rest of her drink before sending out a message to Cecelia.
Cece,
Did you at least take a moment to eat? A level up doesn't stop the game from hitting you with hunger. We're about to head out once we finish up here. Did you want me to pick you up some bread and fruit?
Can you also keep an eye out for Prome? He was with us freaking out and now he up and vanished.
Stay safe please.
"I need to pick up the rest of the body line anyways. I overestimated how much my stat would influence it's healing power." Willow grumbled, sending the message and picking at her stew. "We really need someone working on the numbers. Wonder if that's capped behind that arithmetic skill."
The inn was still noisy, Players coming and going as they wanted. Renn was flowing freely and the alcohol was right behind it. People were really going all out.
"Our condolences for your losses. Rania said, Dracion lifting his hand off her shoulder as she stood down. Both of them have him a wary look as he continued to blather. "I am Rania Hawthorne and this is Dracion Wildbron, second to the Shaman Chief. It an interesting choice to brave the Rathan's scorn. What brings you here with such purpose?"
Meanwhile, Dracion hauled Prome up by the arm off the floor. The weight of his suit didn't seem to bother the man all that much. He patted the Tinker hardily on the back.
"Stand up, you strange man. Around these parts we look each other in the eye. We don't bow down and grovel like beasts scrounging for food." Dracion boomed with a frown. "Now 'fore I can help you, need to know a few things. One, what tower? You talkin' about the ruins on top of the mountain right. Well, that there-" Rania smacked him lightly on the shoulder.
"I can handle this, Dracion. Go do your rounds." Dracion shot her a curious look and she just shook her head. He shrugged, said his farewells, and made his way out into the rain only to be stopped by other players. Rania turned back to the pair.
"Discussing the universe's layout with the unenlightened will only confuse them further." Rania spoke quietly as her tag blinked, changing from Rania to Rania Hathorne, Shifter Trainer. "Ultimate power is an illusion of your own creation. Ascension can only be achieved through the concurrent use of many powers, not a singular one. A single fish among the sharks is sure to die but when they swim as one, they may escape. At the cost of some of course."
Quest Accepted.
A Mechanist's life for me!
See Professor Ratshrew in his home in the residential district to
unlock the Mechanist subclass.
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
ＮＡＭＥ
Kakajin Nanajin (Goes by Kajin Najin in the presence of non-dunesfolk)
ＲＡＣＥ
Lalafell
ＣＬＡＮ
Dunesfolk
ＢＩＲＴＨＰＬＡＣＥ
Drybone, Thanalan
ＯＣＣＵＰＡＴＩＯＮ
Member of Azyema’s Eyes
ＳＯＵＬ ＣＲＹＳＴＡＬ
Black Mage
ＡＰＰＥＡＲＡＮＣＥ
Kajin stands at a fun sized 2' 10", the runt of the family, though he carries himself as if he was five times taller. Vibrant long pink hair with shocks of white make him stand out against the dark golds, greys, and blacks of the city. His eyes match his hair and he wears a jewel in the middle of his forehead to signify his zodiac in accordance to dunesfolk tradition. He wears loose breathable robes, all with a simple two tone color scheme. He isn't one for fashion and sometimes wears a simple tunic and breech combo if he plans to spend the day relaxing. He does enjoy braiding flowers in his hair when he doesn't have it pulled back in a bun.
His staff however is a matter of pride. In accordance to the traditions of his family, he was gifted a staff when he came of age. Created with meticulously carved voidsent bones-horns of a gargoyle topping a bone from an ogre-and set with a tiny and an Eye of Fire, every part of it is meant to draw aether in with efficiency. Kajin's family passes down the technique from generation to generation and each of his siblings carries one (with the exception of Shishijin) with a different elemental eye.
ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ
(Screen shots WIP)
Kajin is ambitious and creative, always thinking about the next step, the next challenge. He doesn’t understand the concept of shame, just as likely to burn his obstacles away and storm through the ashes with lightning and ice as he is to break down and cry until someone feels enough pity to help him or awkward enough to get out of his way. His obsession with aetherology often leads him to libraries and studies at al hours of the night and if given the opportunity, will work himself without food or sleep for as long as possible.
Despite his passion driven obsession, the first thing that always comes first is family. Once he has accepted someone as his own, they’re stuck with him for life. He is clearly the youngest of his own flesh and blood but his annoyance is outstripped by his protectiveness, barely needing a reason to bring down the full wrath of his arcane might against whoever slighted his kin. Unfortunately that brings with it a minor abandonment complex, ready to blow something up if his kin vanishes without giving him time to emotionally prepare.
ＢＩＯＧＲＡＰＨＹ
ＯＴＨＥＲ
Favorite Dish: Spaghetti Pescatore served at the Silver Bazaar
Hates the term "Black Mage" because of the connotations it carries. His family practices "Aertherically Advanced Thaumaturgy" and has the proper documentation to prove it as required by the Eorzean Alliance.
ＲＥＡＳＯＮ ＦＯＲ ＥＮＬＩＳＴＭＥＮＴ
Kakajin Nanajin (Goes by Kajin Najin in the presence of non-dunesfolk)
ＲＡＣＥ
Lalafell
ＣＬＡＮ
Dunesfolk
ＢＩＲＴＨＰＬＡＣＥ
Drybone, Thanalan
ＯＣＣＵＰＡＴＩＯＮ
Member of Azyema’s Eyes
ＳＯＵＬ ＣＲＹＳＴＡＬ
Black Mage
ＡＰＰＥＡＲＡＮＣＥ
Kajin stands at a fun sized 2' 10", the runt of the family, though he carries himself as if he was five times taller. Vibrant long pink hair with shocks of white make him stand out against the dark golds, greys, and blacks of the city. His eyes match his hair and he wears a jewel in the middle of his forehead to signify his zodiac in accordance to dunesfolk tradition. He wears loose breathable robes, all with a simple two tone color scheme. He isn't one for fashion and sometimes wears a simple tunic and breech combo if he plans to spend the day relaxing. He does enjoy braiding flowers in his hair when he doesn't have it pulled back in a bun.
His staff however is a matter of pride. In accordance to the traditions of his family, he was gifted a staff when he came of age. Created with meticulously carved voidsent bones-horns of a gargoyle topping a bone from an ogre-and set with a tiny and an Eye of Fire, every part of it is meant to draw aether in with efficiency. Kajin's family passes down the technique from generation to generation and each of his siblings carries one (with the exception of Shishijin) with a different elemental eye.
ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ
(Screen shots WIP)
Kajin is ambitious and creative, always thinking about the next step, the next challenge. He doesn’t understand the concept of shame, just as likely to burn his obstacles away and storm through the ashes with lightning and ice as he is to break down and cry until someone feels enough pity to help him or awkward enough to get out of his way. His obsession with aetherology often leads him to libraries and studies at al hours of the night and if given the opportunity, will work himself without food or sleep for as long as possible.
Despite his passion driven obsession, the first thing that always comes first is family. Once he has accepted someone as his own, they’re stuck with him for life. He is clearly the youngest of his own flesh and blood but his annoyance is outstripped by his protectiveness, barely needing a reason to bring down the full wrath of his arcane might against whoever slighted his kin. Unfortunately that brings with it a minor abandonment complex, ready to blow something up if his kin vanishes without giving him time to emotionally prepare.
ＢＩＯＧＲＡＰＨＹ
Before the Calamity, the Golden Bazaar dominated Eastern Thanalan as the primary stopping point between Ul’dah and Gridanna for those without airship permits. A bustling town of merchants, locals and transients, the small hamlet provided anything a traveling caravan could need, from a place to rest your head to chocobo feed to repair services to a touch of entertainment for the oft encouraged longer stays. Anything that happened in the least acrid region of Thanalan was often launched out of this gathering place and housed nearly all the regions local’s, including the members of the Church of Saint Adama Landama who maintained one of Thanalan’s largest lichyards.
Unfortunately, the lichyard’s size became an unexpected problem. The few ponds that the settlement housing the lichyard derived its name from were at risk of contamination from the rotting corpses of those interred due to the heavy rainfall the region tended to experience. Poor organization and insufficient field research put early graves, and thus newer ones that spiraled out from the originals, too close to the water source and the rains recent began bringing some of the sealed diseases in the region’s primary drinking sources. In a bid to correct their mistake in the most cost efficient manner, the Church reached out to the Order of Nald’thal for training in their funeral rituals that should cleanse the bodies of their impurities.
The Order refused. Mumuepo, leader of the Thaumaturge’s guild at the time, threw out the request because a lack of donations to Thal’s church, despite the lichyard demanding the entirety of the Church’s resources. In a panic, the church reached out to anyone willing to help and they received it from an unexpected place.
Kikisuki Lelesuki answered the call, an aetherically advanced thaumaturge whose lineage could be traced back to before the fall of Sil’dah. Her family roamed the Thanalan desert, wandering on the backs of adamantoises, and used their ancient traditions of black magic and thaumaturgy to help those who struggle to help themselves. Kikisuki arrived shortly after the Order’s denial and taught several members of the Church the foundations of Thaumaturgy, helping them purge the afflicted corpses with fire and ice and lightning. Fofojin Sisijin, a gravedigger Kikisuki selected due to naturally elevated aetheric reserves, fell in love with the wandering thaumaturge and courted her for nearly two years before she returned his feelings.
The pair ended up giving birth to four children, two girls and two boys, most with the Lelesuki’s natural inclination for aetherial manipulation and their father’s high aetheric reserves. His older sisters, Lilijin and Shishijin, twins and the oldest siblings, followed closely by Papajin and then finally himself. Lilijin commanded the family’s natural magical prowess, honing her abilities under her mother’s tutelage and eventually leaving Drybones to join the extended Lelesuki clan’s wandering mission. Shishijin unfortunately was born with abnormally low aetheric reserves, unable to safety cast even basic thaumaturgy spells without putting herself in harm’s way, but after a troublesome teenage spell of bitter resentment, Shishijin joined their father at the Church of Saint Adama Landama and helps prepare offerings on behalf of those with no one to remember them. Papajin loathed the Gold Bazaar and abandoned it as soon as he was able. He joined the Order of Nald’thal, welcomed in with open arms due to his easy command of the thaumaturgical arts.
Kajin was the youngest and clearly had minor attachment issues. As a young child, he would follow his siblings and parents around feverently, throwing a tantrum if the current object of his attention stepped out of eye sight for even a second. He never seemed to favor one family member over another but his need for familial affection did stunt his social growth, always staying away from his peers if a family member was present. It persisted as he grew older, scorch marks on the wall when he found out Lilijin was striking out on her own. The family still teases him for it but if not for their mother’s timely intervention, Kajin probably would have burned down their home.
Like his brother and older sister, Kajin inherited his family’s aptitude for magical mayhem but took it further than his siblings. Where as they wielded it as a tool, as something to be used when necessary, Kajin loved magic. He loved the feeling of coaxing form from aether and sending it flying in an explosion of pure will. He hung desperately to his mother’s lessons, always begging for more, pushing his limits as far as they go, and as he got older, started his own experimentation into the arts. If anyone as much as whispered the word aether, Kajin would be there, spouting ideas and concepts before anyone realized what mishap they’d brought on themselves.
The Calamity struck just after Papajin struck off on his own, Kajin’s clinginess once again resulting in an irritable outburst of fire and lightning but this time outside of the home. The extended family scurried around the desert for days, putting down raging sprites and creatures whipped into a frenzy by the horrific events that threatened the safety of the people of Thanalan. Kajin, his parents, and Shishijin watched as the Burning Wall practically exploded with malformed aether and the world burned before them. Many suns passed as they put out fire after fire in Eastern Thanalan, each one burning with Bahamaut's unusually concentrated aether. They rotated, exposure to the intense aether sicking them, as the smothered them with ice and dispersed the aether as best they could.
Two years passed with no word from Papajin. Lilijin made sure to check in afterwards but hurried back with their grandmother. The rest were so busy with the increased dead that it wasn’t until Kajin made the effort to go to Ul’dah and practically break down the Order’s door that he discovered Azyma’s Eyes, an organization dedicated to quelling the turbulent aether and creating safe guards to prevent such widespread devastation from happening again. His brother was at the helm of Ul’dah’s chapter, practically drowning in work. Not that that stopped Kajin from crying in front of his colleagues, to remind him he had a family who was worried sick of course, and then he demanded he be involved. It took nearly six moons and a handful of bells to get Papajin to accept his help, not to mention several letters begging their parents to help because Kajin has no shame, but he eagerly entered the Eyes with full expectations that he’d get to do something useful.
Instead, Papajin stuck him on desk duty and adamantly refused to change his assignment. Not that it stopped the Lalafell from struggling against the tyranny of his elder sibling.
Unfortunately, the lichyard’s size became an unexpected problem. The few ponds that the settlement housing the lichyard derived its name from were at risk of contamination from the rotting corpses of those interred due to the heavy rainfall the region tended to experience. Poor organization and insufficient field research put early graves, and thus newer ones that spiraled out from the originals, too close to the water source and the rains recent began bringing some of the sealed diseases in the region’s primary drinking sources. In a bid to correct their mistake in the most cost efficient manner, the Church reached out to the Order of Nald’thal for training in their funeral rituals that should cleanse the bodies of their impurities.
The Order refused. Mumuepo, leader of the Thaumaturge’s guild at the time, threw out the request because a lack of donations to Thal’s church, despite the lichyard demanding the entirety of the Church’s resources. In a panic, the church reached out to anyone willing to help and they received it from an unexpected place.
Kikisuki Lelesuki answered the call, an aetherically advanced thaumaturge whose lineage could be traced back to before the fall of Sil’dah. Her family roamed the Thanalan desert, wandering on the backs of adamantoises, and used their ancient traditions of black magic and thaumaturgy to help those who struggle to help themselves. Kikisuki arrived shortly after the Order’s denial and taught several members of the Church the foundations of Thaumaturgy, helping them purge the afflicted corpses with fire and ice and lightning. Fofojin Sisijin, a gravedigger Kikisuki selected due to naturally elevated aetheric reserves, fell in love with the wandering thaumaturge and courted her for nearly two years before she returned his feelings.
The pair ended up giving birth to four children, two girls and two boys, most with the Lelesuki’s natural inclination for aetherial manipulation and their father’s high aetheric reserves. His older sisters, Lilijin and Shishijin, twins and the oldest siblings, followed closely by Papajin and then finally himself. Lilijin commanded the family’s natural magical prowess, honing her abilities under her mother’s tutelage and eventually leaving Drybones to join the extended Lelesuki clan’s wandering mission. Shishijin unfortunately was born with abnormally low aetheric reserves, unable to safety cast even basic thaumaturgy spells without putting herself in harm’s way, but after a troublesome teenage spell of bitter resentment, Shishijin joined their father at the Church of Saint Adama Landama and helps prepare offerings on behalf of those with no one to remember them. Papajin loathed the Gold Bazaar and abandoned it as soon as he was able. He joined the Order of Nald’thal, welcomed in with open arms due to his easy command of the thaumaturgical arts.
Kajin was the youngest and clearly had minor attachment issues. As a young child, he would follow his siblings and parents around feverently, throwing a tantrum if the current object of his attention stepped out of eye sight for even a second. He never seemed to favor one family member over another but his need for familial affection did stunt his social growth, always staying away from his peers if a family member was present. It persisted as he grew older, scorch marks on the wall when he found out Lilijin was striking out on her own. The family still teases him for it but if not for their mother’s timely intervention, Kajin probably would have burned down their home.
Like his brother and older sister, Kajin inherited his family’s aptitude for magical mayhem but took it further than his siblings. Where as they wielded it as a tool, as something to be used when necessary, Kajin loved magic. He loved the feeling of coaxing form from aether and sending it flying in an explosion of pure will. He hung desperately to his mother’s lessons, always begging for more, pushing his limits as far as they go, and as he got older, started his own experimentation into the arts. If anyone as much as whispered the word aether, Kajin would be there, spouting ideas and concepts before anyone realized what mishap they’d brought on themselves.
The Calamity struck just after Papajin struck off on his own, Kajin’s clinginess once again resulting in an irritable outburst of fire and lightning but this time outside of the home. The extended family scurried around the desert for days, putting down raging sprites and creatures whipped into a frenzy by the horrific events that threatened the safety of the people of Thanalan. Kajin, his parents, and Shishijin watched as the Burning Wall practically exploded with malformed aether and the world burned before them. Many suns passed as they put out fire after fire in Eastern Thanalan, each one burning with Bahamaut's unusually concentrated aether. They rotated, exposure to the intense aether sicking them, as the smothered them with ice and dispersed the aether as best they could.
Two years passed with no word from Papajin. Lilijin made sure to check in afterwards but hurried back with their grandmother. The rest were so busy with the increased dead that it wasn’t until Kajin made the effort to go to Ul’dah and practically break down the Order’s door that he discovered Azyma’s Eyes, an organization dedicated to quelling the turbulent aether and creating safe guards to prevent such widespread devastation from happening again. His brother was at the helm of Ul’dah’s chapter, practically drowning in work. Not that that stopped Kajin from crying in front of his colleagues, to remind him he had a family who was worried sick of course, and then he demanded he be involved. It took nearly six moons and a handful of bells to get Papajin to accept his help, not to mention several letters begging their parents to help because Kajin has no shame, but he eagerly entered the Eyes with full expectations that he’d get to do something useful.
Instead, Papajin stuck him on desk duty and adamantly refused to change his assignment. Not that it stopped the Lalafell from struggling against the tyranny of his elder sibling.
ＯＴＨＥＲ
Favorite Dish: Spaghetti Pescatore served at the Silver Bazaar
Hates the term "Black Mage" because of the connotations it carries. His family practices "Aertherically Advanced Thaumaturgy" and has the proper documentation to prove it as required by the Eorzean Alliance.
ＲＥＡＳＯＮ ＦＯＲ ＥＮＬＩＳＴＭＥＮＴ
The sun burned low against the city skyline. Crowds seemed to swell as the dry Thanalan heat diffused into the cooling air and a dull roar rang through the city as her nightlife emerged to enjoy the encroaching darkness, the screams and shouting of the coliseum swelling to a crescendo as steel met steel on the blood sands. For all it’s glitter and gold in the midday sun, Ul’dah truly came alive at night, her people slipping out from their shadowy oases as dancers, musicians, and entertainment prowled the streets, eyes set on the heavy pockets of the wealthy citizenry. Gil and wine flowed freely in the city, any pleasure available to those with pockets deep enough to forget their troubles, even if only for the night.
Kajin made his way down Ul’dah’s sandy cobblestones, books piled high as he balanced his staff on the top. He could barely see around the few tomes, each one weighing with carefully transcribed reports on the aetheric movements of every major section of the massive Thanalan desert. His wrist still ached with the last few quill strokes, eyes blurry as he and several other members of the Eyes made copies to send out to the Conjurers and Arcanist guild for safe keeping and comparative analysis. His arms burned with the weight, the dedicated space for Azyma’s Eyes far too far away for a lalafell like himself. Barely brushing three feet tall, more than two of these books stacked on top of each other block his vision and three made his arms burn but here he was, one in a bag and three stacked high. The things he did for this twelves damned group.
Five years have already passed since the calamity brought the world to its knees. His older brother, a member of the Order of Nald’Thal, helped spearhead a collaborative effort between the various magic guilds in an attempt to alleviate the strain placed on the resource starved grand companies and tackle another imposing problem. With the aetheric currents thrown into complete disarray, Azyma’s Eyes rose to watch and prevent further aetheric disruption through its methods of observation, notation, and reaction. Reports poured in over the years, compiled into tomes and sent out across the city states for comparison as the aether settled enough to permit safe teleportation again. Various members were now moving forward to develop safeguards against such events, including theorizing various ways to counter balance severe aetheric disruptions in the event of approaching umbral calamities.
And his own brother relegated him to desk duty!
Admittedly, calling him a shite-face, swill-sodden pile of goobbue vomit was a bit unnecessary but Papajin using his authority to crush his own sibling’s ideas was an entirely different matter! It was abuse through and through and even whining at his parents hadn’t fixed the problem. The world needed people attuned to the aether right now. Teaching more magically experienced people would solve that. After all, it wasn’t like advanced thaumaturgy was all about destruction. Well, it was but it wouldn’t be possible without the intricate process of aetherial manipulation! And that was what advanced thaumaturgy was about. Moving and converting aether from one form into another!
And there were so so many possibilities! Imagine what carefully calculated aetheric conversion could accomplish and then apply that directly to a rapid decomposition of elemental crystals across a general locale and then what couldn’t they accomplish! Of course, there were some problems with that but what idea didn’t have problems at the beginning? He got excited again just considering the possibilities, the books threatening to topple as he practically vibrated but reality came settling in far too quickly. His suggestion had been cast aside, his plans torn to shreds, and his brother punished him with a dead end desk job copying pages as long as he stayed with the Eyes. The monotony of it all was starting to wear him thin, his passion for aetherology crushed beneath the weight of scribe work.
He blinked and suddenly he was on the cobblestones, blinking as a dull pain exploded in the back of his head. A pair of children sped past him, barely noticing the stranger they’d knocked over. He grabbed his staff, a present from his grandmother when they decided to induct him into the family traditions, and picked himself up with a groan. He felt the irritation inside him rise only to bubble back down, too tired from the mind numbing drudgery to care that much, and he passed through the Quicksand to retire to his company funded room. He’d set out on the morrow to home and send his portion forward with a porter to the Black Shroud once he arrived.
He ducked into the tavern doubling as the adventurer’s guild as a Roegadyn nearly shut the door on him. It was a full house tonight, weary travelers and adrenaline high adventurers making merry as was their wont. He could see Momodi cheerily welcoming another group, blood still splattered on their armor from whatever grand adventure they’d returned from, another tale tucked neatly into their belt and a healthy pile of gil to return their good will. He felt the yearning for that kind of freedom pull at his heart, the freedom to do what he wanted without his family crushing his aspirations, but now he barely had the energy to work on his theories. Wake up, work, go to bed, rinse and repeat. He sighed and side stepped a tossed tankard.
“Oye, goobbue feed, fetch that for me!” The same Roegadyn that nearly crushed him in the door shouted at him and Kajin sent a half hearted glare and continued on his way until his books were, again, knocked out of his hands.
“You hard o’ hearing, midget? I said pick. It. up.” The Roedgadyn growled. Kajin picked up his staff instead, the anger from earlier raising its head and curling hot in his belly. Lalafell discrimination was fairly common, the Syndacte and money grubbing Plainsfolk merchants to thank for that, but open confrontation was still rare. Most people had the common sense to realize were the perfect height for the worst type of attack. As he picked up his staff, the screech of a sword drawn drew his attention and he saw the shadow of the blade coming down on him.
It was reflex at this point. The first spell any aetherically advanced thaumaturge worth their staff mastered. The sword crashed against the barrier of hardened aether Kajin wove with the ease of experience. Just a simple flick of the wrist and the aether would follow, rushing to fill the void the movement created. Kajin sneered at the “Bloody mages” the brute muttered and the sword swung back. A muttered incantation followed it and Kajin sent a spark of lightning straight into his crotch with a satisfied smirk. The crack of thunder following it silenced the tavern, the clatter of the sword as it fell from the Roegadyn’s hand reverberating through the open space. The gladiator’s mouth dropped and for a moment he was silent until he howled and rolled on the floor, hands over his sensitive genitals. Kajin marched over, fire in his eyes, and he caught a stray strand of lightning aether in his staff, his staff crackling with lighting as it hovered over the brute’s throat
“Next time, I’ll make sure even the Pajal’s can’t save your little sand gecko.” The Lalafell snapped, bringing the staff up and slamming it back down with all his strength. The Roegadyn shut his eyes with a whimper, hands still protecting his sensitive nethers, but Kajin let the aether fade and he paused just above the brute’s nose. The Roegadyn opened his eyes after a few moments to the wicked grin on Kajin’s face and he bopped the gladiator’s nose with a loud “Boop!” He turned, staff safely stowed, as he picked up his books once more. Using magic was always an incredible rush, one he didn’t have nearly enough opportunity to indulge in. He righted himself and something caught his eye. A new poster on the wall for a Free Company called “The Blessed Twelve.” As if he was blessed. Blessed with a prick of a brother. He grumbled his entire way up to his room as his good mood crumbled, dropping the books noisily on the desk and unceremoniously hitting the floor. He laid there for a while, just staring at the ceiling.
He could. He’d get to practice his art again. He’d get to actually test his theories without his family’s deraigned limitations constantly pressing down on him. He wanted to help people, like everyone in his family swore to when they took up the family traditions. Kajin couldn’t help but feel that transcripting aether reports while wasn’t hurting anyone, wasn’t really helping them either. The image of the Blessed Twelve’s crest hung heavy in his mind and he worried his lip for a few more moments. He’d practically be slapping his own brother in the face. Papajin would be furious. The thought made Kajin laugh and he was on his feet in a heartbeat.
He’d never written as quickly as he did in that moment, requesting a transfer. They often encouraged aether sensitives into the company of adventurers. They could evaluate more dangerous areas and performed random checks to verify reports as they moved through the world. His brother held no sway over this part of the Eyes. His only regret was that he wouldn’t get to see Papajin’s face when he walked into the room and discovered Kajin managed to escape his claws.
Kajin made his way down Ul’dah’s sandy cobblestones, books piled high as he balanced his staff on the top. He could barely see around the few tomes, each one weighing with carefully transcribed reports on the aetheric movements of every major section of the massive Thanalan desert. His wrist still ached with the last few quill strokes, eyes blurry as he and several other members of the Eyes made copies to send out to the Conjurers and Arcanist guild for safe keeping and comparative analysis. His arms burned with the weight, the dedicated space for Azyma’s Eyes far too far away for a lalafell like himself. Barely brushing three feet tall, more than two of these books stacked on top of each other block his vision and three made his arms burn but here he was, one in a bag and three stacked high. The things he did for this twelves damned group.
Five years have already passed since the calamity brought the world to its knees. His older brother, a member of the Order of Nald’Thal, helped spearhead a collaborative effort between the various magic guilds in an attempt to alleviate the strain placed on the resource starved grand companies and tackle another imposing problem. With the aetheric currents thrown into complete disarray, Azyma’s Eyes rose to watch and prevent further aetheric disruption through its methods of observation, notation, and reaction. Reports poured in over the years, compiled into tomes and sent out across the city states for comparison as the aether settled enough to permit safe teleportation again. Various members were now moving forward to develop safeguards against such events, including theorizing various ways to counter balance severe aetheric disruptions in the event of approaching umbral calamities.
And his own brother relegated him to desk duty!
Admittedly, calling him a shite-face, swill-sodden pile of goobbue vomit was a bit unnecessary but Papajin using his authority to crush his own sibling’s ideas was an entirely different matter! It was abuse through and through and even whining at his parents hadn’t fixed the problem. The world needed people attuned to the aether right now. Teaching more magically experienced people would solve that. After all, it wasn’t like advanced thaumaturgy was all about destruction. Well, it was but it wouldn’t be possible without the intricate process of aetherial manipulation! And that was what advanced thaumaturgy was about. Moving and converting aether from one form into another!
And there were so so many possibilities! Imagine what carefully calculated aetheric conversion could accomplish and then apply that directly to a rapid decomposition of elemental crystals across a general locale and then what couldn’t they accomplish! Of course, there were some problems with that but what idea didn’t have problems at the beginning? He got excited again just considering the possibilities, the books threatening to topple as he practically vibrated but reality came settling in far too quickly. His suggestion had been cast aside, his plans torn to shreds, and his brother punished him with a dead end desk job copying pages as long as he stayed with the Eyes. The monotony of it all was starting to wear him thin, his passion for aetherology crushed beneath the weight of scribe work.
He blinked and suddenly he was on the cobblestones, blinking as a dull pain exploded in the back of his head. A pair of children sped past him, barely noticing the stranger they’d knocked over. He grabbed his staff, a present from his grandmother when they decided to induct him into the family traditions, and picked himself up with a groan. He felt the irritation inside him rise only to bubble back down, too tired from the mind numbing drudgery to care that much, and he passed through the Quicksand to retire to his company funded room. He’d set out on the morrow to home and send his portion forward with a porter to the Black Shroud once he arrived.
He ducked into the tavern doubling as the adventurer’s guild as a Roegadyn nearly shut the door on him. It was a full house tonight, weary travelers and adrenaline high adventurers making merry as was their wont. He could see Momodi cheerily welcoming another group, blood still splattered on their armor from whatever grand adventure they’d returned from, another tale tucked neatly into their belt and a healthy pile of gil to return their good will. He felt the yearning for that kind of freedom pull at his heart, the freedom to do what he wanted without his family crushing his aspirations, but now he barely had the energy to work on his theories. Wake up, work, go to bed, rinse and repeat. He sighed and side stepped a tossed tankard.
“Oye, goobbue feed, fetch that for me!” The same Roegadyn that nearly crushed him in the door shouted at him and Kajin sent a half hearted glare and continued on his way until his books were, again, knocked out of his hands.
“You hard o’ hearing, midget? I said pick. It. up.” The Roedgadyn growled. Kajin picked up his staff instead, the anger from earlier raising its head and curling hot in his belly. Lalafell discrimination was fairly common, the Syndacte and money grubbing Plainsfolk merchants to thank for that, but open confrontation was still rare. Most people had the common sense to realize were the perfect height for the worst type of attack. As he picked up his staff, the screech of a sword drawn drew his attention and he saw the shadow of the blade coming down on him.
It was reflex at this point. The first spell any aetherically advanced thaumaturge worth their staff mastered. The sword crashed against the barrier of hardened aether Kajin wove with the ease of experience. Just a simple flick of the wrist and the aether would follow, rushing to fill the void the movement created. Kajin sneered at the “Bloody mages” the brute muttered and the sword swung back. A muttered incantation followed it and Kajin sent a spark of lightning straight into his crotch with a satisfied smirk. The crack of thunder following it silenced the tavern, the clatter of the sword as it fell from the Roegadyn’s hand reverberating through the open space. The gladiator’s mouth dropped and for a moment he was silent until he howled and rolled on the floor, hands over his sensitive genitals. Kajin marched over, fire in his eyes, and he caught a stray strand of lightning aether in his staff, his staff crackling with lighting as it hovered over the brute’s throat
“Next time, I’ll make sure even the Pajal’s can’t save your little sand gecko.” The Lalafell snapped, bringing the staff up and slamming it back down with all his strength. The Roegadyn shut his eyes with a whimper, hands still protecting his sensitive nethers, but Kajin let the aether fade and he paused just above the brute’s nose. The Roegadyn opened his eyes after a few moments to the wicked grin on Kajin’s face and he bopped the gladiator’s nose with a loud “Boop!” He turned, staff safely stowed, as he picked up his books once more. Using magic was always an incredible rush, one he didn’t have nearly enough opportunity to indulge in. He righted himself and something caught his eye. A new poster on the wall for a Free Company called “The Blessed Twelve.” As if he was blessed. Blessed with a prick of a brother. He grumbled his entire way up to his room as his good mood crumbled, dropping the books noisily on the desk and unceremoniously hitting the floor. He laid there for a while, just staring at the ceiling.
He could. He’d get to practice his art again. He’d get to actually test his theories without his family’s deraigned limitations constantly pressing down on him. He wanted to help people, like everyone in his family swore to when they took up the family traditions. Kajin couldn’t help but feel that transcripting aether reports while wasn’t hurting anyone, wasn’t really helping them either. The image of the Blessed Twelve’s crest hung heavy in his mind and he worried his lip for a few more moments. He’d practically be slapping his own brother in the face. Papajin would be furious. The thought made Kajin laugh and he was on his feet in a heartbeat.
He’d never written as quickly as he did in that moment, requesting a transfer. They often encouraged aether sensitives into the company of adventurers. They could evaluate more dangerous areas and performed random checks to verify reports as they moved through the world. His brother held no sway over this part of the Eyes. His only regret was that he wouldn’t get to see Papajin’s face when he walked into the room and discovered Kajin managed to escape his claws.
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
“The enthusiasm is much appreciated! We’ll do great things together, great things! I feel it in my bones!” Alfor chuckled with a clap on Prome’s shoulder.
In the few minutes before the monsters appearing, the system immediately notified Holly and River of several tracks on the paths. The tracks glowed a faint blue before an information notice popped up.
Holly
Name: ????
Lvl: ????
Danger Level: ???
Creatures were large quadrupeds, approximately 13,000 pounds, headed west in a group of more than six.
River, with added Monster Knowledge Information:
Name: Triceratops
Lvl: 14
Danger Level: Moderate - Proceed with caution
Creatures were large quadrupeds, approximately 13,000 pounds, headed west in a group of more than six.
Willow turned and lead them beyond the town borders. A soft ding went off in everyone’s ear, a symbol disappearing off their dashboard as they left the safe zone. Various animal cries bounced around the gradually thickening forest that surrounded the town and bugs almost immediately started buzzing around the group. There was a soft rustle ahead and two small creatures, no taller than Cecilia’s hip, popped out of the undergrowth.
Chitter 1: (Left)
Health: 1250/1250
Mana: 2500/2500
Chitter 2: (Right)
Health: 1250/1250
Mana: 2500/2500
Health: 1250/1250
Mana: 2500/2500
Chitter 2: (Right)
Health: 1250/1250
Mana: 2500/2500
The two Chitters hissed softly and then a rapid chittering, not unlike squirrel's conversing, sound came from their throats as their heads twitched in unison. Their neck frills only partially expanded as they seemed to watch the group’s movements.
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
R E L A T I O N S
A R T I M E S H A R R I N G T O N
"Don't make enemies, invest in friendships!"
⟢ 🎆Respects ⟡ 🌓Neutral ⟡ 👋Acquaintance ⟡ 🙇It's Complicated ⟣
⟢ ⭐Likes ⟢ 💛Friend ⟡ 💙Good Friends ⟡ 💜Best Friends ⟡ ❣️Ex-Friends ⟡ 😈Frienemy ⟣
⟢ 💘Infatuation ⟡ 💓Loves ⟡ 💗Couple ⟡ 💕Basically Family ⟡ 💞Family ⟡ 💔Ex-Lovers ⟣
⟢ ♨️Tense ⟡ 💀Dislikes ⟡ 😡Hates ⟡ 👿Enemy ⟡ 👹Absolutely Loathes ⟣
Hufflepuff
💜 Georgina 💜
"Wicked smart and superbad? What did I do to get the slickest best friend in Hogwarts?"
- Met in First Year when Arty was seriously struggling with the separation.
- Grew closer in the second year and Arty basically decided they were besties.
- Loves getting to write her letters during the break months.
Ravenclaw
💞 Apollo Harrington 💞
"T"
- Just write notes here
- You can even include links to posts that you think are milestones in their relationship
- Or leave this blank if there is nothing you want to put!
Symbol [color=???]Name[/color] Symbol
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
- Just write notes here
- You can even include links to posts that you think are milestones in their relationship
- Or leave this blank if there is nothing you want to put!
Slytherin
[hr.]Symbol [color=???]Name[/color] Symbol
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
- Just write notes here
- You can even include links to posts that you think are milestones in their relationship
- Or leave this blank if there is nothing you want to put!
Symbol [color=???]Name[/color] Symbol
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
- Just write notes here
- You can even include links to posts that you think are milestones in their relationship
- Or leave this blank if there is nothing you want to put!
Gryffindor
[hr.]Symbol [color=???]Name[/color] Symbol
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
- Just write notes here
- You can even include links to posts that you think are milestones in their relationship
- Or leave this blank if there is nothing you want to put!
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
Home was a bittersweet struggle for Varis. Antwone picked Varis up perfectly five minutes before he was expected, his preferred travel bottle was ready for him in the back of the car along with the glass Eloise brought him back as a gift the last time he sent her off to one of Edgar's show mage's soirees. They threw so many it baffled Varis how they got any work done but it gave his own show mage a way to show off however she wished, within her expected behaviors of course, and it made her happy to see some of them so her smiles weren't all forced, tight lipped, amateurish shows like a certain mage he had to deal with now. Varis opened the bottle with practiced ease and poured himself a tall glass.
He knew they had a deal but by the Queen's saving grace, the boy was a complete idiot. How did a mage with such an amazing pedigree turn out like that? There wasn't an original thought in the boy's brain! Varis took a deep drink. There were times when he wished alcohol affected vampires in a mortal fashion and this entire semester so far was one of them. Couldn't figure out where a link cuff was supposed to go when he didn't have cuffs! Eloise graduated from that bat shit thought process when she was three. He couldn't imagine Ryner let any of her mages act like that at home. Completely void of independent thought and any semblance of rational thought. The only thing the boy was useful for was holding things. Anything more complex and Varis had to hold his hand like a child. The boy did well once and nothing since. Pathetic.
Varis tapped his foot irritably against the passenger seat. How many times had he considered breaking their deal? Since meeting the boy, he'd turned so impatient but the Starag boy just didn't learn! Admittedly, Varis only had experience breaking Sinnenodel mages in but he couldn't imagine this primitive child any different than the others. The absurd loyalty to the Noilas was just another expression of their intellectual inferiority. Anyone with an advanced intellect knew that loyalty was a cheap and easy method of manipulation; rather, temporary alliances were the only thing that could be trusted. Anything else was just a ploy to bring you to heel. Things like trust and faith were misplaced in this world. They were what made all of humanity, mage or otherwise, excel in their servitude. A vampire could never last.
The ride home was silent. Antwone kept the privacy screen up, the AC running, the drive smooth, took the detour Varis enjoyed when he was stressed and drawn thin, and pulled home with no fan fair. The first days home Varis always prefer the silence of his own company. Varis stepped out and didn't acknowledge the servant opening the door and then scurrying away like the insect he was. Varis waited until he was alone again and sighed, letting a weary smile as his lavender garden washed over him.
"Finally home." He murmured to himself as he entered the garden, a sprawling maze his family kept up for generations. He'd slowly had the gardeners change out the original plants for the lavenders. He wandered through it, the paths familiar but he turned that off. It had been years since he let himself get lost beneath the soft moonlight in the well manicured garden. He let his thoughts wander, far away from the weariness of the boy, from the expectations of Court and Council, from the deal, from bothersome Dukes and Duchesses. Here in the garden, he felt closer to something he had before, a memory forgotten but the impression still there. It was bitter-sweet, an impression of laughter, of longing, of a broken heart, and of bitter fury. Mostly, it was betrayal but Varis had no idea what it meant.
The garden and the library had been his escape from a tyrannical father and apathetic siblings. Why he would feel this way here of all places always confused him but he did. Sometimes it hurt so much he couldn't stand it but he suffered through it to try and figure it out. Those nights he spent, picking the tangled web of emotions apart left him more confused than before, in more pain that before. Every thread brought him to another tangle, each tangle revealed more threads. Never tangible memories. Impressions. Reactions. A periodic thought. And always music. A piano. He didn't even know how to play the piano and yet he remembered it clearly. Some days, it infuriated him. Not to know your own mind was the hallmark of insanity in his opinion and he'd barely been alive a century. Time hadn't left its mark on him just yet.
Some days, it was reassuring. Knowing there was always another mystery to solve, that he could never truly be bored with eternity was a surprising comfort. More than one vampire lost their minds when everything stagnated. But Varis had his own little puzzle locked away where no one could find it. When vampires became predictable and his web wove itself without any help, he could always take a moment and try again and again and again because there seemed to be an endless supply of emotions of a depth he never thought possible. He'd never wish them on his worst enemies and he certainly wouldn't enjoy having them every night. Once in a while was perfect. A kickstart when things got boring.
The path he followed took him to his childhood spot, a secret little swirl of hedge that opened into a small space. A jagged piece of stone work carefully set into the center of a stone pagoda. His grandfather stole it from an archeological dig he funded before he reported the findings to the Council. The tablet was covered in archaic writings, something he didn't know and Ryner refused to teach him. If everything went well, that would change. Varis knelt, pressing for the loose board at the bottom of the structure, and pulled out a long thin box. He replaced the board and tucked it safely away. He spent a few more moments tracing the familiar lettering before he took his leave back to the castle.
The family's castle was dark and imposing, a design choice of his great grandmother's back when the vampire lords fought off hunters and other lords. It clawed at the sky with three long towers that spiraled out of the well fortified structure. Varis pushed his way into the main hall, picking up the letters that were neatly stacked at the table there. He flickered through them quickly, leaving more than one in the trash next to it.
Two stood out. Dutchess Fennilia demanding attention after he ruled against her in a border dispute. Typical. He expected it sooner than this but she was always one to sulk for a few years before she tried to garner favor with him. He slipped that on in his pocket as well but the other chilled him to his core. It took all his control to make his way through the silent halls as calmly and collected as he usually would until he climbed the stairs to his personal room. He shut the door. He placed the letter on his desk. He sat on his bed.
He screamed into a pillow. The Sinnenodel seal on the back was marked with the distinctive eyes that only she used in the family. Lady Sinnenodel sent him a summons.
The tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He'd just gotten home and arranged a few days off before he had to attend a business meeting and now this. He'd received summons before, plenty of times in the past fifty years, and summons with that symbol only ever meant she was displeased with him. Which was far more often than not because she expected perfection and nothing was ever perfect to her. Varis wanted to bash his head against the wall. He likely had to cancel the business meeting or at least arrange to conference call into it. If she permitted him to speak this time. He stood up and walked stiffly back to the letter, pulling out a snake engraved letter opener. He paused, took a deep breath, and opened the envelope.
Count Varis Sinnenodel,
Your presence is expected at Lady Sinnenodel's Raining Star Villa along with all documentation on the acquisitions of Green Vision Inc and plans for hosting Chaend. Lady Sinnenodel's attendant will arrive in three days. Arraignments for your meeting with the Astorio Counts have been made. Expect to return to the Noila Academy directly from the Villa.
Secretary of the luminous Lady Sinnenodel.
Varis reread the letter several times. His frustration and anger, his brief and naive belief this wasn't what he thought it was, all collapsed into a frustrated resentment. Set was exactly what he thought but she was taking it one step further. The irony was clear. Just as he forced the boy to handle a public reminder of his place, she was doing the same thing. He ground his fangs together furiously, threw the letter aside, and collapsed back on his bed. His luggage from school wasn't fully returned, likely being taken in from washing, but several other pieces sat in their place. Eloise must have seen the letter and known he'd be leaving. Thank the Queen someone knew how to anticipate his needs.
His violin was sitting in it's place on his dresser and Varis realized with a start he hadn't lifted it once from its place at the dorm. It was normally a key piece of relaxing but he'd been so stressed about everything that he'd forgotten about it entirely. He chewed his lip for a second as he considered and sighed again, putting all thoughts of everything else aside. He pulled out the box he'd brought in and set it carefully on his desk, sliding the box open and pulling out the carefully coiled sheets and spreading them open. The thin, wispy handwriting of his mother carefully transcribed one of his favorite violin pieces from his youth. He knew the notes by heart of course. He played it on the anniversary of her death every year without fail. Varis chuckled at the page. He could almost hear her, upset that he ignored everyone but her. He imagined she would tell him off about how much work he did, how much he let the Lady of the house hurt him, how much he hurt other people.
But she wasn't here. Only her memory and her grave. Varis shook away the nostalgia welling up in him as he picked up the violin, amused at the futility of the effort. He was bound to feel it, playing his mother's piece, and here he was trying to shove it away. He couldn't have his mage and drink too.
Varis spent a few moments applying rosin, making sure his strings were still good to play with, and tuning it. The violin firmly tucked under his chin, fingers on the strings, and elbow in its sweet spot. He held the bow just above the strings as he counted the beat in his head, a silent metronome that sounded far too much like his mother's counting for his taste.
The first pass of the bow felt as sweet as blood in his veins. The tension faded from his shoulders as the music sang away his worries with each pass, beckoning his mind far away from what his muscle memory could handle. Back in a time where he clung to his mother's skirts with every new face, when his room smelled like cookies and strawberries and cream, when the wild lavender was a playground and a reading nook all in one. Back before his father turned his attention on him, before his siblings loathed him, before he gambled his family's reputation and won. Before he schemed. Before he raised his walls. Back before he cared about more than the next book he read.
He played the rest of the early morning away, ignoring the tears that stained his cheeks again, ignoring the hurt and the anger pressing in around him, ignoring all the responsibilities he built for himself. He played for hours. Even when Eloise came in and closed his curtains, he played. Even when she offered him blood, he played. He played long into the day and even once he succumbed to sleep, he curled protectively around the violin.
He knew they had a deal but by the Queen's saving grace, the boy was a complete idiot. How did a mage with such an amazing pedigree turn out like that? There wasn't an original thought in the boy's brain! Varis took a deep drink. There were times when he wished alcohol affected vampires in a mortal fashion and this entire semester so far was one of them. Couldn't figure out where a link cuff was supposed to go when he didn't have cuffs! Eloise graduated from that bat shit thought process when she was three. He couldn't imagine Ryner let any of her mages act like that at home. Completely void of independent thought and any semblance of rational thought. The only thing the boy was useful for was holding things. Anything more complex and Varis had to hold his hand like a child. The boy did well once and nothing since. Pathetic.
Varis tapped his foot irritably against the passenger seat. How many times had he considered breaking their deal? Since meeting the boy, he'd turned so impatient but the Starag boy just didn't learn! Admittedly, Varis only had experience breaking Sinnenodel mages in but he couldn't imagine this primitive child any different than the others. The absurd loyalty to the Noilas was just another expression of their intellectual inferiority. Anyone with an advanced intellect knew that loyalty was a cheap and easy method of manipulation; rather, temporary alliances were the only thing that could be trusted. Anything else was just a ploy to bring you to heel. Things like trust and faith were misplaced in this world. They were what made all of humanity, mage or otherwise, excel in their servitude. A vampire could never last.
The ride home was silent. Antwone kept the privacy screen up, the AC running, the drive smooth, took the detour Varis enjoyed when he was stressed and drawn thin, and pulled home with no fan fair. The first days home Varis always prefer the silence of his own company. Varis stepped out and didn't acknowledge the servant opening the door and then scurrying away like the insect he was. Varis waited until he was alone again and sighed, letting a weary smile as his lavender garden washed over him.
"Finally home." He murmured to himself as he entered the garden, a sprawling maze his family kept up for generations. He'd slowly had the gardeners change out the original plants for the lavenders. He wandered through it, the paths familiar but he turned that off. It had been years since he let himself get lost beneath the soft moonlight in the well manicured garden. He let his thoughts wander, far away from the weariness of the boy, from the expectations of Court and Council, from the deal, from bothersome Dukes and Duchesses. Here in the garden, he felt closer to something he had before, a memory forgotten but the impression still there. It was bitter-sweet, an impression of laughter, of longing, of a broken heart, and of bitter fury. Mostly, it was betrayal but Varis had no idea what it meant.
The garden and the library had been his escape from a tyrannical father and apathetic siblings. Why he would feel this way here of all places always confused him but he did. Sometimes it hurt so much he couldn't stand it but he suffered through it to try and figure it out. Those nights he spent, picking the tangled web of emotions apart left him more confused than before, in more pain that before. Every thread brought him to another tangle, each tangle revealed more threads. Never tangible memories. Impressions. Reactions. A periodic thought. And always music. A piano. He didn't even know how to play the piano and yet he remembered it clearly. Some days, it infuriated him. Not to know your own mind was the hallmark of insanity in his opinion and he'd barely been alive a century. Time hadn't left its mark on him just yet.
Some days, it was reassuring. Knowing there was always another mystery to solve, that he could never truly be bored with eternity was a surprising comfort. More than one vampire lost their minds when everything stagnated. But Varis had his own little puzzle locked away where no one could find it. When vampires became predictable and his web wove itself without any help, he could always take a moment and try again and again and again because there seemed to be an endless supply of emotions of a depth he never thought possible. He'd never wish them on his worst enemies and he certainly wouldn't enjoy having them every night. Once in a while was perfect. A kickstart when things got boring.
The path he followed took him to his childhood spot, a secret little swirl of hedge that opened into a small space. A jagged piece of stone work carefully set into the center of a stone pagoda. His grandfather stole it from an archeological dig he funded before he reported the findings to the Council. The tablet was covered in archaic writings, something he didn't know and Ryner refused to teach him. If everything went well, that would change. Varis knelt, pressing for the loose board at the bottom of the structure, and pulled out a long thin box. He replaced the board and tucked it safely away. He spent a few more moments tracing the familiar lettering before he took his leave back to the castle.
The family's castle was dark and imposing, a design choice of his great grandmother's back when the vampire lords fought off hunters and other lords. It clawed at the sky with three long towers that spiraled out of the well fortified structure. Varis pushed his way into the main hall, picking up the letters that were neatly stacked at the table there. He flickered through them quickly, leaving more than one in the trash next to it.
Two stood out. Dutchess Fennilia demanding attention after he ruled against her in a border dispute. Typical. He expected it sooner than this but she was always one to sulk for a few years before she tried to garner favor with him. He slipped that on in his pocket as well but the other chilled him to his core. It took all his control to make his way through the silent halls as calmly and collected as he usually would until he climbed the stairs to his personal room. He shut the door. He placed the letter on his desk. He sat on his bed.
He screamed into a pillow. The Sinnenodel seal on the back was marked with the distinctive eyes that only she used in the family. Lady Sinnenodel sent him a summons.
The tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He'd just gotten home and arranged a few days off before he had to attend a business meeting and now this. He'd received summons before, plenty of times in the past fifty years, and summons with that symbol only ever meant she was displeased with him. Which was far more often than not because she expected perfection and nothing was ever perfect to her. Varis wanted to bash his head against the wall. He likely had to cancel the business meeting or at least arrange to conference call into it. If she permitted him to speak this time. He stood up and walked stiffly back to the letter, pulling out a snake engraved letter opener. He paused, took a deep breath, and opened the envelope.
Count Varis Sinnenodel,
Your presence is expected at Lady Sinnenodel's Raining Star Villa along with all documentation on the acquisitions of Green Vision Inc and plans for hosting Chaend. Lady Sinnenodel's attendant will arrive in three days. Arraignments for your meeting with the Astorio Counts have been made. Expect to return to the Noila Academy directly from the Villa.
Secretary of the luminous Lady Sinnenodel.
Varis reread the letter several times. His frustration and anger, his brief and naive belief this wasn't what he thought it was, all collapsed into a frustrated resentment. Set was exactly what he thought but she was taking it one step further. The irony was clear. Just as he forced the boy to handle a public reminder of his place, she was doing the same thing. He ground his fangs together furiously, threw the letter aside, and collapsed back on his bed. His luggage from school wasn't fully returned, likely being taken in from washing, but several other pieces sat in their place. Eloise must have seen the letter and known he'd be leaving. Thank the Queen someone knew how to anticipate his needs.
His violin was sitting in it's place on his dresser and Varis realized with a start he hadn't lifted it once from its place at the dorm. It was normally a key piece of relaxing but he'd been so stressed about everything that he'd forgotten about it entirely. He chewed his lip for a second as he considered and sighed again, putting all thoughts of everything else aside. He pulled out the box he'd brought in and set it carefully on his desk, sliding the box open and pulling out the carefully coiled sheets and spreading them open. The thin, wispy handwriting of his mother carefully transcribed one of his favorite violin pieces from his youth. He knew the notes by heart of course. He played it on the anniversary of her death every year without fail. Varis chuckled at the page. He could almost hear her, upset that he ignored everyone but her. He imagined she would tell him off about how much work he did, how much he let the Lady of the house hurt him, how much he hurt other people.
But she wasn't here. Only her memory and her grave. Varis shook away the nostalgia welling up in him as he picked up the violin, amused at the futility of the effort. He was bound to feel it, playing his mother's piece, and here he was trying to shove it away. He couldn't have his mage and drink too.
Varis spent a few moments applying rosin, making sure his strings were still good to play with, and tuning it. The violin firmly tucked under his chin, fingers on the strings, and elbow in its sweet spot. He held the bow just above the strings as he counted the beat in his head, a silent metronome that sounded far too much like his mother's counting for his taste.
The first pass of the bow felt as sweet as blood in his veins. The tension faded from his shoulders as the music sang away his worries with each pass, beckoning his mind far away from what his muscle memory could handle. Back in a time where he clung to his mother's skirts with every new face, when his room smelled like cookies and strawberries and cream, when the wild lavender was a playground and a reading nook all in one. Back before his father turned his attention on him, before his siblings loathed him, before he gambled his family's reputation and won. Before he schemed. Before he raised his walls. Back before he cared about more than the next book he read.
He played the rest of the early morning away, ignoring the tears that stained his cheeks again, ignoring the hurt and the anger pressing in around him, ignoring all the responsibilities he built for himself. He played for hours. Even when Eloise came in and closed his curtains, he played. Even when she offered him blood, he played. He played long into the day and even once he succumbed to sleep, he curled protectively around the violin.
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
Varis stepped into Ryner’s office with practiced nonchalance. The Princess looked up, ready to greet him, but he held up his hand as he waited for the doors to close behind him. She gave him a confused look as he calmly walked to her desk, rested his weight on his hands as he leaned over, and smiled sharply. Varis stayed like that for half a minute, staring straight into Ryner’s eyes who returned the look with confusion and concern. She opened her mouth again and Varis brought a finger to her lips, shushing her softy.
“Would you like to explain,” He softly, his voice growing increasingly louder as he continued. “Why in Geoffry’s royal backside you encouraged mental magic?!” He was screaming at the end, his calm facade broken and his face twisted in his fury. “His affinity is a keep part of our agenda and you’re willing to gamble with it? You have waited this long for the perfect poster mage and you’re willing to throw it all away because he’s a little nervous around mind mages? Have you lost your mind, Ryner? Because I’m having serious problems putting my faith in your little scheme now.”
Ryner’s expression went from concern to boredom almost instantly. She waited politely for him to finish. “Varis, sit down and use your inside voice please. It’s exhausting keeping up with your temper so take a moment and collect yourself and we’ll start again.” Varis wanted to reach across the desk and slap that condescending smirk of her face but he knew that friendly as they were, even that would be too far. So he sat down with a huff, slinging one leg over the arm of the chair and propping his arm up against the other so he could rest his cheek on his fist. Ryner shook her head in fond exasperation.
“So, now that I’m at a better viewing angle.” Varis said, free hand gesturing as he spoke. “Would you care to explain yourself? I know you’re a scheming bitch behind closed doors but really, I’m offended I wasn’t included. And when I say offended, I mean livid.”
“I believe you made that quite clear.” Ryner said drly. “And of course I’m going to encourage him. Sybil is the epitome of the worst of vampire kind and if anyone can do something to have some peace of mind around her, then let them. We’re putting Aaron through the wringer; give him something at the very least.”
Varis stared at her like she’d grown two heads. Misplaced sympathies drove her to jeopardize everything they’d worked on? How utterly absurd! Why would she let emotions cloud her judgement now? Of all the times she could have shown some inane empathy and she chose now to mess with one of the keystones of their plan. Varis contemplated leaving, he really did. Getting up and working on his exit plan would be the perfect break and, if he played his cards right, Ryner would be out of the picture forever.
“Varis, calm down. I can smell the stench of your cowardice from here.” Ryner cut off his train of thought with an exasperated sigh, a feeling she had long ago resigned herself to experience whenever she even thought about this particular vampire much less spoke with him face to face. “His choice in major also serves as a precautionary measure. If he can learn to keep his mind shut in Sybil’s presence, then anything he may learn will not make it to her. You can’t be around him all the time and I guarantee she is already plotting ways to get him away from you. It is important to make him self sufficient. Focusing on him and him alone would be detrimental after a while.”
“Yes Ryner, I am fully aware of the ramifications of his choice. I agree that it is a useful skill and an arguably critical one but the risk, Ryner. If we lose his affinity, we lose the Starag connection and we have to start all over. Which, I’m not sure if you recall this little, tiny, miniscule detail, but he is the last male heir because you and yours can’t seem to get your pets breeding properly.” Varis retorted. “His affinity is far more important that sparing him a little mental torture. In fact, it would have been beneficial. You may as well be taking the tools out of my hands and throwing them into the ocean, Ryner.” Varis narrowed his eyes. Was Ryner impulsive, emotional? Yes. Was she stupid? She wouldn’t have made it this long if she were. Something else was going on here and Varis didn’t like it. It must have shown on his face because Ryner sighed and rested her face on her hands.
“You know I’m going to ask. You don’t want him to learn to protect him from my Lady.” Varis sat up, grinning. He could smell a favor coming his way. “He knows something he isn’t supposed to, doesn’t he? You want to make sure someone else doesn’t find out what he knows. Oh, this is too precious. What did the boy learn? Tell me.” Ryner grumbled irritably and Varis kept pushing. “You have to tell me, Ryner. He’s my mage and I’m entitled to know everything that he does. And if you don’t tell me, I’ll just go to him. You might be as stubborn as an old goat but he isn’t. Devoted, yes. And he’ll resist for a little while. He’s stubborn like the rest of his lineage but I have no doubt when I give him the option of advancing his training or telling me the truth of the matter, he’ll buckle. He knows so little about the real world, has so many first experiences left, that he’ll want an out when I offer to personally give him a hands on experience.” If looks could kill, Varis knew the look Ryner sent his way would have obliterated him but he also knew he won. This is why you shouldn’t have soft spots for mages.
Ryner struggled with herself, the conflicting emotions playing out on her face an absolute joy for Varis. It sent a thrill through him knowing he backed Ryner into a corner. She leaned over the desk, beckoning him close and speaking in a low voice. “If the Council found out you know, they’d stake you and leave you for the sun. Are you sure you want to know Varis? We’re already risking as much as we are.” Varis gave her an unamused look. Of course he wanted to know and Ryner gave a defeated sigh. She beckoned him in a little closer and whispered into his ear.
“Psych!”
Varis blinked a few times. It took him a moment to register what she said and he turned slowly to look at her, covering a grin with her hand, eyes sparkling with mirth, and shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Psych? Psychic? Psychology? Psychotic? Clearly, Ryner was messing with him but what was psych? He’d never heard of someone just using the word psych in this situation. As far as he was aware, it meant to prepare yourself mentally but clearly that wasn’t the case here.
“I don’t know what nonsense you just pulled but I’m sure I should be offended.” Varis said, bristling. He didn’t know what “psych” was but he was sure it was some sort of insult and while he had no issue throwing one back in her face, he couldn’t do it effectively if he didn’t know what the insult was!
“Oh sweet, sweet stars, your face!” Ryner wiped away blood gathering in the corner of her eyes. “It’s a cute little mortal prank that I saw on a TV show I was watching the other night and I just wanted to try it. It was so satisfying! I see why they do it.” She took a moment to collect herself while Varis gave her a flat, unamused look again. Why he liked her was beyond him. Such a queer fascination with mortal culture but he couldn’t all toegther blame her. This past month had been an absolute nightmare and they all had to find a distraction where they could. At least one of his easier ones was on campus. He had no idea what Ryner did to destress until now. Indulge in mortal culture apparently.
“No, no. I encouraged it because it will likely alienate him further away from the student body. Not that he’s making many friends but I’m hoping the initial effects of his choice drives the ones he has away. Add a little stress from the peer pressure of joining the little social club the mental students cultivated and you have the perfect kindling. Just make sure you don’t save him too quickly.” Ryner said, her face twisted like she tasted something foul. Varis rolled his eyes. Anytime she talked about doing something bad to the boy, her silly conscious kicked in and the guilt started eating away at her. This was why he was in charge of the boy. She would have given up before she even started because of her silly attachments. Varis thanked himself every day for keeping his perspective proper; mages were tools, nothing more, nothing less. Those who forgot that always lost something in the long run.
“Fine. It’s not like I can do anything about it anyways.” Varis grumbled, fiddling with his gloves. Ryner looked down at them confused but Varis ignored it. “But, aren’t you the crafty one. Benjamin Pierce Eve. Heir to the only traditionalist faction in the Eve family and an ambitious one too. How many favors have you pulled out of him or is he practically indebted to you for the rest of his existence?”
“I’m not trying to extort favors from him, thank you very much. I’m trying to cultivate a friendly and positive relationship with him. Unlike you, I understand that twisting someone’s arm isn’t always the best way to handle things.” Ryner said with a judgemental sniff. “But if he did feel indebted to me when I help lead the way to his Lordship, then who am I to refuse his feelings of good will? Plus, I assumed once you figured out who he was, you’d adjust your end of the plan. He’s quite the feather in a cap from any viewpoint isn’t he?”
"He's a mage sympathist, Ryner. What part of that makes him a good ally for the Sinnenodels." Varis shot back. "We did have the chance to talk briefly during the first spell theory lab. My first impression is boring and far too serious. He'll break under all the pressure he's putting on himself. But he surprised me. I made him an offer. I'd introduce him to the fellow nobles, get his reputation on campus a boost, and all that. He took it but I almost laughed. He offered me a rumor that there are assassinations lined up against most, if not all, of the older Sinnenodel bloodlines."
"Already? Isn't it a little early? It's only been five decades. I didn't realize assassinations were planned this far in advance." Ryner said frowning. Varis waved off the thought.
"If they are true it's not likely any of my rivals. Assassinations protocol is the last decade and a half. Too much chaos otherwise. No, no." Varis sighed and shrugged. "This is my Lady's doing if the rumors are true. She'll probably hold them off a little while yet. I lined up a new pet for her to torture for the next decade at least. Feliks Valscoffie or whatever his name is. His mage fetishist vampire and he should provide ample entertainment for me to extort some favors from my dear family in the name of defense."
"Its Vasiliev, Varis, and I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped treating a premier artist and his wife like garbage. And further-" Ryner blinked as she processed everything past the blatant disrespect. “You served them up to Sybil as a distraction? You know she’ll try to ruin their marriage right? And if that doesn’t work, she’ll just kill them. Oh stars above, Varis. You are a heartless wretch.”
“What is your problem? I’ve kept one of our biggest threats distracted and it only cost us two societal anomalies. Imagine how much more his remaining works will be when they’re colored by tragedy. And anyways, isn’t that a bit hypocritical? You’re utterly destroying someone you like for the sake of your goals while I throw someone I wouldn’t grace the time of night if I could avoid it to the wolves and you say I’m the heartless wretch?” Varis laughed. “Please. I suggested we avoid the mage all together. We have the Red Hand’s daughter. That should have been enough to unite these idiotic renegades that are too busy fighting each other to do anything substantial.”
“At least I know what I’m doing is horrible and I will hate myself for as long as I live but it’s for the greater good. You on the other hand are a selfish jerk who prioritizes the suffering of these poor people over the benefits it reaps.” Ryner explained. “And yet, I still enjoy your company. Probably because you’re the only one who isn’t afraid to actually talk straight to me. Everyone else dances on eggshells in the event I express my displeasure. Now, I have another meeting in twenty and I’d like to have some time to prepare. Was there anything else you needed, Varis?”
“Not particularly. I thought I’d bother you for a while before I returned to running my enemies into the ground and expanding the Sinnenodel business empire but if my time is up, my time is up.” Varis sighed dramatically as he pushed himself up from the chair, tugging at his gloves again and smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes.
“You know, I think you somehow managed to slide back a century. I don’t think gloves have been a fashion point since I was a fledgling, Varis. Why are you wearing those? I’m surprised your diva can even stand the sight of them.” Ryner teased and Varis glared at her.
“I know what you’re insinuating and we are merely acquaintances who understand having a mutually beneficial relationship is a good thing. He’s useful.” Varis snapped.
“Really? And what are you getting out of him?” Ryner asked.
“He’s a foot into an industry I didn’t have easy access to before and he’s the one who put me in contact with your pet tailor for Chaend. Plus, his sister has a reputation for quick dramatics. The cover ups are excellent.” Varis retorted. Ryner lifted her brow, a thoughtful frown on her face.
“But I could have put you in contact with him and it probably would have been done faster. What’s worth more, a recommendation from a Princess or a child actor? And yet you went to him. That speaks volumes, Varis.” Ryner pointed out. “And you are obsessed with efficiency, So why didn’t you come to me?” Varis leaned over the desk and she smiled sweetly at the darkening of his eyes.
“Listen here, you meddlesome old crone. You will not spread slander and lies about my relationships with my business associates. There is nothing more between us than convenience, especially now that he is here. No, I will not “settle down”. We aren’t all emotional fools with attachment issues.” Varis glared at her and pushed off the desk, turning sharply on his heel.
“Then, you wouldn’t mind if I took an interest, hm?” Ryner said slyly. Varis paused for just a moment, sending her a look over his shoulder.
“He’s not your type.” Varis said as he left. Ryner laughed with a shake of her head.
“Would you like to explain,” He softly, his voice growing increasingly louder as he continued. “Why in Geoffry’s royal backside you encouraged mental magic?!” He was screaming at the end, his calm facade broken and his face twisted in his fury. “His affinity is a keep part of our agenda and you’re willing to gamble with it? You have waited this long for the perfect poster mage and you’re willing to throw it all away because he’s a little nervous around mind mages? Have you lost your mind, Ryner? Because I’m having serious problems putting my faith in your little scheme now.”
Ryner’s expression went from concern to boredom almost instantly. She waited politely for him to finish. “Varis, sit down and use your inside voice please. It’s exhausting keeping up with your temper so take a moment and collect yourself and we’ll start again.” Varis wanted to reach across the desk and slap that condescending smirk of her face but he knew that friendly as they were, even that would be too far. So he sat down with a huff, slinging one leg over the arm of the chair and propping his arm up against the other so he could rest his cheek on his fist. Ryner shook her head in fond exasperation.
“So, now that I’m at a better viewing angle.” Varis said, free hand gesturing as he spoke. “Would you care to explain yourself? I know you’re a scheming bitch behind closed doors but really, I’m offended I wasn’t included. And when I say offended, I mean livid.”
“I believe you made that quite clear.” Ryner said drly. “And of course I’m going to encourage him. Sybil is the epitome of the worst of vampire kind and if anyone can do something to have some peace of mind around her, then let them. We’re putting Aaron through the wringer; give him something at the very least.”
Varis stared at her like she’d grown two heads. Misplaced sympathies drove her to jeopardize everything they’d worked on? How utterly absurd! Why would she let emotions cloud her judgement now? Of all the times she could have shown some inane empathy and she chose now to mess with one of the keystones of their plan. Varis contemplated leaving, he really did. Getting up and working on his exit plan would be the perfect break and, if he played his cards right, Ryner would be out of the picture forever.
“Varis, calm down. I can smell the stench of your cowardice from here.” Ryner cut off his train of thought with an exasperated sigh, a feeling she had long ago resigned herself to experience whenever she even thought about this particular vampire much less spoke with him face to face. “His choice in major also serves as a precautionary measure. If he can learn to keep his mind shut in Sybil’s presence, then anything he may learn will not make it to her. You can’t be around him all the time and I guarantee she is already plotting ways to get him away from you. It is important to make him self sufficient. Focusing on him and him alone would be detrimental after a while.”
“Yes Ryner, I am fully aware of the ramifications of his choice. I agree that it is a useful skill and an arguably critical one but the risk, Ryner. If we lose his affinity, we lose the Starag connection and we have to start all over. Which, I’m not sure if you recall this little, tiny, miniscule detail, but he is the last male heir because you and yours can’t seem to get your pets breeding properly.” Varis retorted. “His affinity is far more important that sparing him a little mental torture. In fact, it would have been beneficial. You may as well be taking the tools out of my hands and throwing them into the ocean, Ryner.” Varis narrowed his eyes. Was Ryner impulsive, emotional? Yes. Was she stupid? She wouldn’t have made it this long if she were. Something else was going on here and Varis didn’t like it. It must have shown on his face because Ryner sighed and rested her face on her hands.
“You know I’m going to ask. You don’t want him to learn to protect him from my Lady.” Varis sat up, grinning. He could smell a favor coming his way. “He knows something he isn’t supposed to, doesn’t he? You want to make sure someone else doesn’t find out what he knows. Oh, this is too precious. What did the boy learn? Tell me.” Ryner grumbled irritably and Varis kept pushing. “You have to tell me, Ryner. He’s my mage and I’m entitled to know everything that he does. And if you don’t tell me, I’ll just go to him. You might be as stubborn as an old goat but he isn’t. Devoted, yes. And he’ll resist for a little while. He’s stubborn like the rest of his lineage but I have no doubt when I give him the option of advancing his training or telling me the truth of the matter, he’ll buckle. He knows so little about the real world, has so many first experiences left, that he’ll want an out when I offer to personally give him a hands on experience.” If looks could kill, Varis knew the look Ryner sent his way would have obliterated him but he also knew he won. This is why you shouldn’t have soft spots for mages.
Ryner struggled with herself, the conflicting emotions playing out on her face an absolute joy for Varis. It sent a thrill through him knowing he backed Ryner into a corner. She leaned over the desk, beckoning him close and speaking in a low voice. “If the Council found out you know, they’d stake you and leave you for the sun. Are you sure you want to know Varis? We’re already risking as much as we are.” Varis gave her an unamused look. Of course he wanted to know and Ryner gave a defeated sigh. She beckoned him in a little closer and whispered into his ear.
“Psych!”
Varis blinked a few times. It took him a moment to register what she said and he turned slowly to look at her, covering a grin with her hand, eyes sparkling with mirth, and shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Psych? Psychic? Psychology? Psychotic? Clearly, Ryner was messing with him but what was psych? He’d never heard of someone just using the word psych in this situation. As far as he was aware, it meant to prepare yourself mentally but clearly that wasn’t the case here.
“I don’t know what nonsense you just pulled but I’m sure I should be offended.” Varis said, bristling. He didn’t know what “psych” was but he was sure it was some sort of insult and while he had no issue throwing one back in her face, he couldn’t do it effectively if he didn’t know what the insult was!
“Oh sweet, sweet stars, your face!” Ryner wiped away blood gathering in the corner of her eyes. “It’s a cute little mortal prank that I saw on a TV show I was watching the other night and I just wanted to try it. It was so satisfying! I see why they do it.” She took a moment to collect herself while Varis gave her a flat, unamused look again. Why he liked her was beyond him. Such a queer fascination with mortal culture but he couldn’t all toegther blame her. This past month had been an absolute nightmare and they all had to find a distraction where they could. At least one of his easier ones was on campus. He had no idea what Ryner did to destress until now. Indulge in mortal culture apparently.
“No, no. I encouraged it because it will likely alienate him further away from the student body. Not that he’s making many friends but I’m hoping the initial effects of his choice drives the ones he has away. Add a little stress from the peer pressure of joining the little social club the mental students cultivated and you have the perfect kindling. Just make sure you don’t save him too quickly.” Ryner said, her face twisted like she tasted something foul. Varis rolled his eyes. Anytime she talked about doing something bad to the boy, her silly conscious kicked in and the guilt started eating away at her. This was why he was in charge of the boy. She would have given up before she even started because of her silly attachments. Varis thanked himself every day for keeping his perspective proper; mages were tools, nothing more, nothing less. Those who forgot that always lost something in the long run.
“Fine. It’s not like I can do anything about it anyways.” Varis grumbled, fiddling with his gloves. Ryner looked down at them confused but Varis ignored it. “But, aren’t you the crafty one. Benjamin Pierce Eve. Heir to the only traditionalist faction in the Eve family and an ambitious one too. How many favors have you pulled out of him or is he practically indebted to you for the rest of his existence?”
“I’m not trying to extort favors from him, thank you very much. I’m trying to cultivate a friendly and positive relationship with him. Unlike you, I understand that twisting someone’s arm isn’t always the best way to handle things.” Ryner said with a judgemental sniff. “But if he did feel indebted to me when I help lead the way to his Lordship, then who am I to refuse his feelings of good will? Plus, I assumed once you figured out who he was, you’d adjust your end of the plan. He’s quite the feather in a cap from any viewpoint isn’t he?”
"He's a mage sympathist, Ryner. What part of that makes him a good ally for the Sinnenodels." Varis shot back. "We did have the chance to talk briefly during the first spell theory lab. My first impression is boring and far too serious. He'll break under all the pressure he's putting on himself. But he surprised me. I made him an offer. I'd introduce him to the fellow nobles, get his reputation on campus a boost, and all that. He took it but I almost laughed. He offered me a rumor that there are assassinations lined up against most, if not all, of the older Sinnenodel bloodlines."
"Already? Isn't it a little early? It's only been five decades. I didn't realize assassinations were planned this far in advance." Ryner said frowning. Varis waved off the thought.
"If they are true it's not likely any of my rivals. Assassinations protocol is the last decade and a half. Too much chaos otherwise. No, no." Varis sighed and shrugged. "This is my Lady's doing if the rumors are true. She'll probably hold them off a little while yet. I lined up a new pet for her to torture for the next decade at least. Feliks Valscoffie or whatever his name is. His mage fetishist vampire and he should provide ample entertainment for me to extort some favors from my dear family in the name of defense."
"Its Vasiliev, Varis, and I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped treating a premier artist and his wife like garbage. And further-" Ryner blinked as she processed everything past the blatant disrespect. “You served them up to Sybil as a distraction? You know she’ll try to ruin their marriage right? And if that doesn’t work, she’ll just kill them. Oh stars above, Varis. You are a heartless wretch.”
“What is your problem? I’ve kept one of our biggest threats distracted and it only cost us two societal anomalies. Imagine how much more his remaining works will be when they’re colored by tragedy. And anyways, isn’t that a bit hypocritical? You’re utterly destroying someone you like for the sake of your goals while I throw someone I wouldn’t grace the time of night if I could avoid it to the wolves and you say I’m the heartless wretch?” Varis laughed. “Please. I suggested we avoid the mage all together. We have the Red Hand’s daughter. That should have been enough to unite these idiotic renegades that are too busy fighting each other to do anything substantial.”
“At least I know what I’m doing is horrible and I will hate myself for as long as I live but it’s for the greater good. You on the other hand are a selfish jerk who prioritizes the suffering of these poor people over the benefits it reaps.” Ryner explained. “And yet, I still enjoy your company. Probably because you’re the only one who isn’t afraid to actually talk straight to me. Everyone else dances on eggshells in the event I express my displeasure. Now, I have another meeting in twenty and I’d like to have some time to prepare. Was there anything else you needed, Varis?”
“Not particularly. I thought I’d bother you for a while before I returned to running my enemies into the ground and expanding the Sinnenodel business empire but if my time is up, my time is up.” Varis sighed dramatically as he pushed himself up from the chair, tugging at his gloves again and smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes.
“You know, I think you somehow managed to slide back a century. I don’t think gloves have been a fashion point since I was a fledgling, Varis. Why are you wearing those? I’m surprised your diva can even stand the sight of them.” Ryner teased and Varis glared at her.
“I know what you’re insinuating and we are merely acquaintances who understand having a mutually beneficial relationship is a good thing. He’s useful.” Varis snapped.
“Really? And what are you getting out of him?” Ryner asked.
“He’s a foot into an industry I didn’t have easy access to before and he’s the one who put me in contact with your pet tailor for Chaend. Plus, his sister has a reputation for quick dramatics. The cover ups are excellent.” Varis retorted. Ryner lifted her brow, a thoughtful frown on her face.
“But I could have put you in contact with him and it probably would have been done faster. What’s worth more, a recommendation from a Princess or a child actor? And yet you went to him. That speaks volumes, Varis.” Ryner pointed out. “And you are obsessed with efficiency, So why didn’t you come to me?” Varis leaned over the desk and she smiled sweetly at the darkening of his eyes.
“Listen here, you meddlesome old crone. You will not spread slander and lies about my relationships with my business associates. There is nothing more between us than convenience, especially now that he is here. No, I will not “settle down”. We aren’t all emotional fools with attachment issues.” Varis glared at her and pushed off the desk, turning sharply on his heel.
“Then, you wouldn’t mind if I took an interest, hm?” Ryner said slyly. Varis paused for just a moment, sending her a look over his shoulder.
“He’s not your type.” Varis said as he left. Ryner laughed with a shake of her head.
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
Human psychology class had been cancelled for the day and instead assigned them the task of viewing their partner's first day in the Spell Theory Lab. The point of the exercise was observation and evaluation; learn to identify when your mage was struggling or insecure so a vampire could smooth over any potential problems before they festered. Watching mages learn to separate an instinctive part of themselves would present an opportunity to note the physical tells of their frustrations without the distraction of serving.
Each Spell Theory Lab boasted a viewing area as comfortable as Affinity Mastery's, several full couches a step above a row of chairs and side tables that lined the edge. Unlike the other, this viewing area was set back into the wall rather than protruding out over it and a glass pane separated the vampires from the mages. Most of the class had filed in by now. Most of the vampires took the couches, more interested in themselves than their mages as they discussed the various rumors flying around about the recent murders. A few sat at the edge, watching with interest as the mages made their attempts.
Varis ignored the rabble on the couches as he took his spot as close to the boy as he could. Any opportunity to personally oversee his mage's progress at such a critical stage would be well used. The boy had shown he could barely keep himself in order, especially after that nonsense during Revel, and Varis wanted to ensure the boy remembered his place through this process. Anything less and Varis would be waiting with a lecture and lines longer than the mage knew existed.
The Sinnenodel colors suited the boy far more than the pesky Noilan colors, though Varis noted he stuck close to his comfort zone despite the magazines he left in the boy's room. He'll get up at the same time as the boy tomorrow and set a few new grooming standards. Varis appreciated sticking to simplicity but one had to know how to change when it was necessary. The boy clearly struggled with that so Varis would instill some sense into him before the end of this school year. "I buy him an entirely new wardrobe and he doesn't bother to use it. What a disappointment." Varis sighed to himself.
Meanwhile, Benjamin had been positively ecstatic upon learning the class would get an observation period. The surprising amount of vampires that chose to gossip and take no interest in their mage's progress was astounding. What was the point of coming to the observatory if you weren't going to observe? The leap in logic was beyond him, albeit the one advantage was that there were plenty of free seats closest to the action. He was all too happy to approach the glass, his search for his mage overwhelmingly simple (the one advantage of her having such hair, he supposed). He kept an eye on her location as he searched for a place to sit.
A flash of red caught his eye to his left. Count Varis Sinnenodel had also taken the opportunity to observe his mage as well. That must have meant Aaron Starag was also in this class. With that in mind, he took a quick look around the classroom, but it took him slightly longer than it should have to realize that Aaron was the blonde man sitting next to Lilie. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, the setup granting him yet another chance he hadn't been expecting. All that was left to do was pass it off as casually as possible. He truly did have every intention in owning up to his word and keeping peace between the houses, however, any interaction with a Sinnenodel had a tendency to go awry. If he slipped up, he was certain he would find himself trapped in the snake's clutches. Fortunately, Ben felt confident in his ability to keep a conversation cordial. In the worst case scenario, the mages could be the topic of conversation.
With that in mind, Ben decided to approach the table respectfully, clearing his throat to catch the other country's attention. "How comforting to know I won't be observing alone," He decided to be as pleasant and casual as possible, extending his hand. "Count Benjamin Eve, how do you do?"
Varis turned his head at the unexpected noise, quite ready to chastise whoever insisted on bothering him at an important time, but he held his tongue as he took in the newest Eve. Morose was the first word that came to mind but his pleasant approach shrugged off the initial impression. Though, the conflicting personality would suit the house. Maybe it would keep one of them here longer than a fortnight. Varis considered brushing him off until he proved that he would be staying―after all, what use could a single conversation do when you didn’t know who our opponent was―but it left as soon as it came and Varis stood with a smile, shaking the offered hand.
“Count Varis Sinnenodel. Well enough, thank you. I’m glad someone appreciates an opportunity to invest time and effort into a blossoming asset. A flower is only as beautiful as it’s gardener’s effort after all.” Varis gestured to the seat next to him, retaking his own. “Please take a seat. Which mage is yours?”
Ben would do as Varis asked with cautious optimism. That optimism would come crashing down as soon as he asked a very reasonable question. He cleared his throat and gestured to the table where Aaron and Lilie sat. "I believe the mage that I was assigned is the one seated next to the blond dressed in black," He said as he tapped the table with the tips of his fingers, neglecting to refer to the glaringly obvious fault. Perhaps that was a little cold, but it was the truth. "It would seem in her generosity Princess Ryner thought it best to give a lower class mage an opportunity to taste life on the other side."
The honest reply was surprising. Considering how late into the semester was, it was clear Varis was aware of who his mage was. He didn’t doubt every noble mocked the house for suffering a clear sign of the Princess’ displeasure. He certainly did. In his shoes, Varis would have redirected the conversation rather than admit such a clear sign of disrespect. But the eves were always an odd lot. Varis would give him the benefit of the doubt this time. Hopefully, there was a more interesting strategy here.
“The Princess is known for her generosity. Far be it from us to question her wisdom. I don’t doubt that there is some deeper meaning to this sorting system she has. I don’t envy her. It is a momentous task, I’m sure.” Varis responded, turning his attention back to the boy and the Eve’s genetic mistake. “Incidentally, that blond headed boy is my mage. Aaron Starag of the Princess’ personal retinue. It caused quite a stir when it got around that she’d given a Starag away, much less to a Sinnenodel. However, it seems his name is all he’s worth. Obedient, a vaulted pedigree, and a light mage but he can’t think for himself. The curse of vampirism, forever guiding the sheep in an endless cycle.” Varis sighed in disappointment.
“How is your mage adjusting? It has been a hectic few weeks for it.” Varis asked.
The deeper meaning of nobility was usually simply reduced to passive aggressive remarks on actual opinions. The message was sent loud and clear: the royal family greatly preferred the Sinnenodel House while clearly outlining their poor opinion of the Eve House. There could be more to it, but Ben wasn't going to entertain it nor would he linger. Instead, he wanted to make it clear that he viewed this as a challenge—he had the utmost confidence that he would turn Lilie into a proper mage.
“I see this as a test,” Ben outright admitted. “The previous Eves have all but neglected Miss Dionne, and while I can’t speak for their intentions, I feel they didn’t see the chance in front of them. Aside from the obvious, the girl is a blank slate otherwise, free to be molded and to become whatever I want her to be.”
He didn’t buy that the Starag had any issue, especially when the complaint was that he couldn’t think for himself. The goal of every mage was to think for their betters, after all. “Shepherding a mage of Mr. Starag’s pedigree will likely be little more than some minor adjustments, I’m sure,” Ben said.
“There are few Houses that a minor issue can’t cost a mage, and his vampire, everything. Neither of ours are at the very least. A Sinnenodel cannot manage their mage’s every movement like a Noila. Structure is little more than an illusion meant to subjugate. If a mage wants to succeed here, the faster on their feet, the better. I am not the greatest monster in my house and he is far too close to it for mistakes.” Varis responded seriously. His Lady had already seen inside his head. Even Varis couldn’t fathom want insignificant detail she picked out and decided to poke at and, something he would deny for all of eternity, it made him nervous. It was a necessary gamble and it seemed it paid off but there was a reason he didn’t bring mages to see his Lady.
“It’s commendable you plan to put all this time into your mage. Surely molding her appropriately will take a considerable amount of attention and patience. Speaking of which, I’m glad you are handling this slate appropriately. It’s far too pale for common decency. Too much chalk from the others I assume.” Varis shook his head. “But where do you plan to find this time? I barely have enough time as it is to ensure the boy can put his shirt on properly, let alone teach him manners. With teaching and planning Chaend and a business acquisition in the process, I can’t imagine the strain on your schedule this challenge will place on you.
Varis was entirely right, but Ben was still confident. The pun nearly made Ben laugh out loud, but he did offer a polite chuckle. He pondered his response for a few seconds, choosing his words carefully. “I see now. You can’t teach a thought process, so I suppose you have your work cut out for you,” That much he would agree with and understand, as Lady Sinnenodel’s character was infamous. Unpreparedness was as much a death sentence as standing out in plain sunlight was.
As for his plans for Lilie, that hadn’t been entirely thought out just yet. There were a few possibilities lingering around that he had spoken of with Geoffrey, but he had yet to decide. Waiting for any proposals was out of the question and Eleanore already served as his primary guard. Fortunately, he still had time to decide on exactly what he was going to do with her.
“There is always the late morning when most stop responding to calls. Whenever the case may be, it will be her priority until she is to my standards—everything else comes second,” Ben said. “I will delegate a set time every day for the rest of the semester and whenever I feel she is improving I can and will adjust accordingly. I’ve already delegated where I can, so some of that burden has shifted since coming here. If the house can’t run while I’m gone, then clearly, I’ve failed. Fortunately, Miss Dionne is not the first mage I’ve trained, so I expect her to learn quickly.” And if not, they would have to cross that bridge when they came to it.
Varis generously gave Ben a few moment seconds to speak but it seemed the conversation continued on without so much as an attempt to pick something out. No jabs, no comments, not even an underhanded question. Either Count Benjamin didn’t care or he was just wholeheartedly devoted to the failure of a mage. Either way, Varis boiled this Eve down to the same thing every other Eve had been: Boring. He turned his attention away from the Eve and considered how he wanted to continue. Varis wasn’t certain the new Eve even had anything worth his time so he could completely ignore him at this point but on the other hand, he didn’t know anything about him and that annoyed him more than the bland responses did.
“Admirable. Dedication to one task is a rare trait these days. Though, some may argue it's because it's no longer suited to its environment.” Varis commented as he relaxed in his chair, his attention shifting back downstairs. “Forgive me my ignorance but I don’t think we’ve had the opportunity to meet before this. Where do you fall in House Eve?”
The alternative was marrying off the mage and as tempting as it was, realistically it was not something that Ben could get away with. Ben followed Varis’ gaze, only to feel the shame hitting him once again when he laid eyes on that white head. The conversation wasn’t particularly going anywhere, but he wasn’t entirely sure which way to steer it. Speaking with a Sinnenodel was more about survivability than anything, but Varis was tame. At the moment, anyway. He supposed that his father was right.
That thought alone nearly made him want to retch and he nearly missed the question. “My family is the fourth oldest bloodline of the Eves,” He said, running a hand over his face. “And my father is Pierce Devan.” Of whom he would have preferred not to think or speak about, but here they were. His mood was soured, but he couldn’t tell if it was due to his father or the visible reminder of being shot in the kneecap with that mage of his.
In an effort to save his mood and keep from speaking on his father, he decided to change the topic, “I’ve heard you aren’t the only heir attending. The Marivaldi Countess must be an interesting mystery to unravel.”
“The Marivaldi heiress, if you can still consider her one, is as lackadaisical as her lack of public appearances have painted her. Absolutely plain and little in the way of wit. I believe it’s the abhorrent obsession with mage rights. They have more than they’ve had in centuries and they still dally with the help. Their holiday is representative enough.” Varis hand-waved the thought of Amaris away. “I’m far more interested in the son of Pierce Devan. With a power vacuum to fill, I’m more surprised with how much energy you’re willing to redirect to the charity case you were given.” Varis’ knowledge of Benjamin’s father was lacking. Bending the Eve’s had fallen squarely on the shoulders of his Lady and even Varis wasn’t foolish enough to trespass in her territory. He knew those Lady Sinnendodel funded and passingly of the other players but his focus was on other projects. But Ben presented an opportunity he couldn’t resist.
“I doubt there is love lost between your father and yourself considering your easy dismissal of the subject. How do you feel about the situation the Eve household is in? Openings are so rare in our society. I can’t imagine you’ll ignore it.” Varis sat forward as he spoke, resting his chin on his hand. He lowered his voice as well to try and keep the conversation somewhat private.
Varis had no information on the countess, either. Either he was as useless as Lilie on that account or Ben would just have to see for himself. But he couldn't think too much on that as instead he chose to focus on a subject that Ben was not too happy to talk on: his father. Fortunately, he was well aware that this was an inevitability that he was more than prepared for. If there was ever a time to make his goals clear, it was now.
"If multitasking between duties and training a mage is beyond a vampire’s reach, then they don’t deserve the title of count. My father would wholeheartedly agree," Ben said. He would not elaborate on the barely-there relationship between himself and his father anymore than that. This wasn’t new to anyone who was familiar with his family’s dynamics. Perhaps Varis was fishing for information. He was looking at the wrong person for that, but he supposed it is what it is.
That said, it was his chance to make a statement. "As for the current power vacuum, the solution is simple: I have every intention of taking the role of Lord for myself, of course."
Varis leaned back, adjusting his gloves absently, and cast an appraising look over Ben. What ambition. Clearly not quite cut from the same cloth as his weakling house but ambition was the trait of the bold and the stupid in equal measure. He still hadn’t settled on which this Eve was but he was still favoring the latter. “Lord of the Eves. A lofty goal, an admirable goal. But how do you plan to accomplish that? Dracul’s passing put your father in a stronger position than ever. You’d have to climb over him to get to it at this point. Not that I intend to discourage you from cannibalizing your familial relations for power but I don’t see that type of desperation in you, Count Benjamin. Where do you plan to begin?”
Ben suppressed the chuckle coming from him. He wasn’t about to show his hand to a Sinnenodel, especially when nothing was guaranteed. He was, after all, still working on getting other support, but he supposed that Varis wondered where his confidence was coming from. “There are things I would like to change, and to make that change, I need power. What better power than the seat of the Lord? Although, if it comes off as desperation, I’ll keep that in mind,” He briefly mused as he sat back in his seat. “I’m currently looking for influence outside of my father’s circle, and after seeking council from other, older vampires, I think I’ll have what I need to take the needed steps forward.”
He remained confident, but he supposed now was as good a time as ever to keep his word. “Her Highness has her reasons for choosing us as our houses’ representatives. I feel she sees something in each of us, whether it be ambition, drive, power...and as such, I think it would be to our mutual benefit to have a positive relationship while attending the academy. Maintain the peace and what have you.”
“Her Highness pulls families apart with a poorly guised demand. I’m not naive enough to believe she’s choosing us for her Academy’s reputation or to foster whatever ambiguous talents she sees in us. She’s calculating in her choices and that’s why our Queen is as lenient with this place as she is. Look at her choices from the Houses. From the Marivaldis, she summons the last heiress of the previous Lord despite the rumors suggesting she has plans to overthrow Salazar. It isn’t a stretch of the imagination Ryner is showing her support for the vampiress and is setting up a direct conflict in the public eye between the two Houses. From the Sinnenodels, she takes the favorite of Lady Sinnenodel herself. While we are colleagues on Council matters, this puts a key opponent to many of her propositions under her direct authority. Coupled with a position that already drives vampires to bask in the sunlight, Her Highness can effectively stall my ability to intervene in any of her plans while also attempting to usher me out of my position that much faster.” Varis commented, ticking the families on his fingers as he spoke. “From the Eve’s, she specifically took the children of the two most powerful Traditionalist factions. With the recent passing of Count Dracul, your father is in the prime position to combine the two and remove the modernists’ favorite from power. How interesting that she called you after a long line of others. Normally, I’d argue choosing you was intended to foster your House’s instability but doing nothing would achieve that faster.” Varis tapped on the table next to them as he spoke.
“And then of course, there is the low born Astorio. An odd choice considering the pedigrees of her other Noble representatives. I was admittedly confused about the decision, how the juxtaposition of breeding made the Astorios look, until I had a conversation with the vampire. A headhunter for the Council. And with no one else on the Council in the immediate vicinity, the Princess has direct authority over him.” Varis chuckled darkly. “Right next door to the three potential heirs. Funny how it all works out, hm? Ryner is several hundred years old. She preaches tolerance and peace but she’s as ruthless as her sister.” And didn’t Varis know that. Although, he begrudgingly admitted it worked in their favor. Getting the up and coming son of the Traditionalist faction in the Eves under their thumb was brilliant and he hated her for it.
“The Sinnenodels find positive relationships are built on reciprocation and frankly Count Benjamin, I’m not entirely sure what you have to offer me in return. I find it strange that although I know your father’s status, I was unaware of you. Curious. Most advertise their progeny with pride.” Varis considered his options. Clearly, Count Benjamin was going somewhere. That much was clear. But Varis wasn’t sure where he was falling just yet and he was hesitant to make investments into a vampire he’d barely met. If he truly was aiming for the Lordship, he was in the perfect position to take it. Just a twist of the knife in a few spots and he’d be sitting at the Council in no time. It piqued his curiosity enough to move forward. He’d add this to Malek’s task list later tonight. “Now that being said, your plain ambition has caught my attention. So I propose a gathering of the nobles here at the Academy. I’ll arrange the affair, list you as the guest of honor, start a few positive comments among the mages at the Academy, really set the foundation for these positive relations you spoke of. I imagine it’d be easier if the nobles prime council were favorable towards you and who better to act as your foil than the conniving Count Sinnenodel.”
The anonymity worked in his favor once again. Ben would never admit that there was a reason his father never mentioned him, but to be frank, for once he could say that it was for the best. That could be easily waved away by any number of excuses, but instead he was cautious about the offer presented to him. Perhaps he had been too naive to think that simply coexisting without issue was too much to ask. At this point in time there was little that Ben could offer in return and the idea of owing a Sinnenodel was dangerous. He had one or two things he could possibly offer in return but nothing concrete. He would have to take a gamble and see what would happen.
Ben ended up agreeing with Varis, leaning forward casually in his seat. "You're right. And for that, I do have something to offer in return," He kept his voice low before he continued, "I have it under good authority that there is a myriad of assassination attempts in your house—as I'm sure that much is commonplace among nobility, but what sets this set apart are the targets. Mainly those of the eldest bloodlines." He made sure to pay careful attention to the count's response.
"Assassinations against the eldest bloodlines?" Varis murmured thoughtfully. It was halfway through his career. It was only a matter of time before his rivals took aim but he doubted anyone would start with assassination attempts this early. Which left one exhausting cultript. She couldn't wait another decade or two before she started getting bored with them? He’d need to double down on the boy’s affinity practice and swordplay. “Is that all? Some baseless rumors someone, somewhere, at sometime will try and assassinate us? The list of enemies we have as a House would rival some of the longest pieces of literature known to vampire kind. Is there more to this like some sort of dramatic pause because from where I stand, I’m setting you up for a bright future and only getting vague warnings in response.” Varis resisted the urge to pull out his phone and review the update security features Malek forwarded to him.
Ben thought that was a rather disinterested response all things considered. He did, however, recall his father's information on the Sinnenodel heir. Varis was either a talented actor or a fool, and Ben wasn't going to assume the latter just yet. However, he had yet to fully convince him. That much was fair at least, he would need to get the information from the duchess.
"As a gesture of goodwill and proof of my intentions I will get you specifics—I can assure you that I received that information on good authority and can get more in a relatively short amount of time," Ben promised.
“Normally, I don’t take promises as a reasonable exchange but I’ll make an exception for a beneficial future.” Varis agreed after a few minutes of consideration and took out his phone, pulling up his calendar. “We’ll have a midnight blood tasting. I recommend your mage prepare a demonstration of a skill; the other nobles are sure to be interested in someone worthy of Ryner’s generosity.”
“Now, for invitations. They’ll go out in a few days but considering our lack of familiarity, what title would you prefer on them? I doubt Count Benjamin Pierce of House Eve is enough to do the son of Devon Pierce justice.” Varis asked.
Ben wasn’t entirely sure how to feel, albeit despite supposedly being the one to benefit he couldn’t help but feel that he had somehow lost. At the very least nothing of value was taken, with one foot in the door he could make his own impression to the other nobles. He would have to contact Duchess Perez at the first chance he could to recall exactly what it was that she had told him. As for the demonstration, he sincerely believed it to be a good idea; he hadn’t the slightest clue what his mage was capable of now that he thought about it.
He did, however, give Varis a pointed look with the arrival of his question. “That will do just fine,” He stated plainly. “Should it change, I’m certain it would be known to all.”
Each Spell Theory Lab boasted a viewing area as comfortable as Affinity Mastery's, several full couches a step above a row of chairs and side tables that lined the edge. Unlike the other, this viewing area was set back into the wall rather than protruding out over it and a glass pane separated the vampires from the mages. Most of the class had filed in by now. Most of the vampires took the couches, more interested in themselves than their mages as they discussed the various rumors flying around about the recent murders. A few sat at the edge, watching with interest as the mages made their attempts.
Varis ignored the rabble on the couches as he took his spot as close to the boy as he could. Any opportunity to personally oversee his mage's progress at such a critical stage would be well used. The boy had shown he could barely keep himself in order, especially after that nonsense during Revel, and Varis wanted to ensure the boy remembered his place through this process. Anything less and Varis would be waiting with a lecture and lines longer than the mage knew existed.
The Sinnenodel colors suited the boy far more than the pesky Noilan colors, though Varis noted he stuck close to his comfort zone despite the magazines he left in the boy's room. He'll get up at the same time as the boy tomorrow and set a few new grooming standards. Varis appreciated sticking to simplicity but one had to know how to change when it was necessary. The boy clearly struggled with that so Varis would instill some sense into him before the end of this school year. "I buy him an entirely new wardrobe and he doesn't bother to use it. What a disappointment." Varis sighed to himself.
Meanwhile, Benjamin had been positively ecstatic upon learning the class would get an observation period. The surprising amount of vampires that chose to gossip and take no interest in their mage's progress was astounding. What was the point of coming to the observatory if you weren't going to observe? The leap in logic was beyond him, albeit the one advantage was that there were plenty of free seats closest to the action. He was all too happy to approach the glass, his search for his mage overwhelmingly simple (the one advantage of her having such hair, he supposed). He kept an eye on her location as he searched for a place to sit.
A flash of red caught his eye to his left. Count Varis Sinnenodel had also taken the opportunity to observe his mage as well. That must have meant Aaron Starag was also in this class. With that in mind, he took a quick look around the classroom, but it took him slightly longer than it should have to realize that Aaron was the blonde man sitting next to Lilie. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, the setup granting him yet another chance he hadn't been expecting. All that was left to do was pass it off as casually as possible. He truly did have every intention in owning up to his word and keeping peace between the houses, however, any interaction with a Sinnenodel had a tendency to go awry. If he slipped up, he was certain he would find himself trapped in the snake's clutches. Fortunately, Ben felt confident in his ability to keep a conversation cordial. In the worst case scenario, the mages could be the topic of conversation.
With that in mind, Ben decided to approach the table respectfully, clearing his throat to catch the other country's attention. "How comforting to know I won't be observing alone," He decided to be as pleasant and casual as possible, extending his hand. "Count Benjamin Eve, how do you do?"
Varis turned his head at the unexpected noise, quite ready to chastise whoever insisted on bothering him at an important time, but he held his tongue as he took in the newest Eve. Morose was the first word that came to mind but his pleasant approach shrugged off the initial impression. Though, the conflicting personality would suit the house. Maybe it would keep one of them here longer than a fortnight. Varis considered brushing him off until he proved that he would be staying―after all, what use could a single conversation do when you didn’t know who our opponent was―but it left as soon as it came and Varis stood with a smile, shaking the offered hand.
“Count Varis Sinnenodel. Well enough, thank you. I’m glad someone appreciates an opportunity to invest time and effort into a blossoming asset. A flower is only as beautiful as it’s gardener’s effort after all.” Varis gestured to the seat next to him, retaking his own. “Please take a seat. Which mage is yours?”
Ben would do as Varis asked with cautious optimism. That optimism would come crashing down as soon as he asked a very reasonable question. He cleared his throat and gestured to the table where Aaron and Lilie sat. "I believe the mage that I was assigned is the one seated next to the blond dressed in black," He said as he tapped the table with the tips of his fingers, neglecting to refer to the glaringly obvious fault. Perhaps that was a little cold, but it was the truth. "It would seem in her generosity Princess Ryner thought it best to give a lower class mage an opportunity to taste life on the other side."
The honest reply was surprising. Considering how late into the semester was, it was clear Varis was aware of who his mage was. He didn’t doubt every noble mocked the house for suffering a clear sign of the Princess’ displeasure. He certainly did. In his shoes, Varis would have redirected the conversation rather than admit such a clear sign of disrespect. But the eves were always an odd lot. Varis would give him the benefit of the doubt this time. Hopefully, there was a more interesting strategy here.
“The Princess is known for her generosity. Far be it from us to question her wisdom. I don’t doubt that there is some deeper meaning to this sorting system she has. I don’t envy her. It is a momentous task, I’m sure.” Varis responded, turning his attention back to the boy and the Eve’s genetic mistake. “Incidentally, that blond headed boy is my mage. Aaron Starag of the Princess’ personal retinue. It caused quite a stir when it got around that she’d given a Starag away, much less to a Sinnenodel. However, it seems his name is all he’s worth. Obedient, a vaulted pedigree, and a light mage but he can’t think for himself. The curse of vampirism, forever guiding the sheep in an endless cycle.” Varis sighed in disappointment.
“How is your mage adjusting? It has been a hectic few weeks for it.” Varis asked.
The deeper meaning of nobility was usually simply reduced to passive aggressive remarks on actual opinions. The message was sent loud and clear: the royal family greatly preferred the Sinnenodel House while clearly outlining their poor opinion of the Eve House. There could be more to it, but Ben wasn't going to entertain it nor would he linger. Instead, he wanted to make it clear that he viewed this as a challenge—he had the utmost confidence that he would turn Lilie into a proper mage.
“I see this as a test,” Ben outright admitted. “The previous Eves have all but neglected Miss Dionne, and while I can’t speak for their intentions, I feel they didn’t see the chance in front of them. Aside from the obvious, the girl is a blank slate otherwise, free to be molded and to become whatever I want her to be.”
He didn’t buy that the Starag had any issue, especially when the complaint was that he couldn’t think for himself. The goal of every mage was to think for their betters, after all. “Shepherding a mage of Mr. Starag’s pedigree will likely be little more than some minor adjustments, I’m sure,” Ben said.
“There are few Houses that a minor issue can’t cost a mage, and his vampire, everything. Neither of ours are at the very least. A Sinnenodel cannot manage their mage’s every movement like a Noila. Structure is little more than an illusion meant to subjugate. If a mage wants to succeed here, the faster on their feet, the better. I am not the greatest monster in my house and he is far too close to it for mistakes.” Varis responded seriously. His Lady had already seen inside his head. Even Varis couldn’t fathom want insignificant detail she picked out and decided to poke at and, something he would deny for all of eternity, it made him nervous. It was a necessary gamble and it seemed it paid off but there was a reason he didn’t bring mages to see his Lady.
“It’s commendable you plan to put all this time into your mage. Surely molding her appropriately will take a considerable amount of attention and patience. Speaking of which, I’m glad you are handling this slate appropriately. It’s far too pale for common decency. Too much chalk from the others I assume.” Varis shook his head. “But where do you plan to find this time? I barely have enough time as it is to ensure the boy can put his shirt on properly, let alone teach him manners. With teaching and planning Chaend and a business acquisition in the process, I can’t imagine the strain on your schedule this challenge will place on you.
Varis was entirely right, but Ben was still confident. The pun nearly made Ben laugh out loud, but he did offer a polite chuckle. He pondered his response for a few seconds, choosing his words carefully. “I see now. You can’t teach a thought process, so I suppose you have your work cut out for you,” That much he would agree with and understand, as Lady Sinnenodel’s character was infamous. Unpreparedness was as much a death sentence as standing out in plain sunlight was.
As for his plans for Lilie, that hadn’t been entirely thought out just yet. There were a few possibilities lingering around that he had spoken of with Geoffrey, but he had yet to decide. Waiting for any proposals was out of the question and Eleanore already served as his primary guard. Fortunately, he still had time to decide on exactly what he was going to do with her.
“There is always the late morning when most stop responding to calls. Whenever the case may be, it will be her priority until she is to my standards—everything else comes second,” Ben said. “I will delegate a set time every day for the rest of the semester and whenever I feel she is improving I can and will adjust accordingly. I’ve already delegated where I can, so some of that burden has shifted since coming here. If the house can’t run while I’m gone, then clearly, I’ve failed. Fortunately, Miss Dionne is not the first mage I’ve trained, so I expect her to learn quickly.” And if not, they would have to cross that bridge when they came to it.
Varis generously gave Ben a few moment seconds to speak but it seemed the conversation continued on without so much as an attempt to pick something out. No jabs, no comments, not even an underhanded question. Either Count Benjamin didn’t care or he was just wholeheartedly devoted to the failure of a mage. Either way, Varis boiled this Eve down to the same thing every other Eve had been: Boring. He turned his attention away from the Eve and considered how he wanted to continue. Varis wasn’t certain the new Eve even had anything worth his time so he could completely ignore him at this point but on the other hand, he didn’t know anything about him and that annoyed him more than the bland responses did.
“Admirable. Dedication to one task is a rare trait these days. Though, some may argue it's because it's no longer suited to its environment.” Varis commented as he relaxed in his chair, his attention shifting back downstairs. “Forgive me my ignorance but I don’t think we’ve had the opportunity to meet before this. Where do you fall in House Eve?”
The alternative was marrying off the mage and as tempting as it was, realistically it was not something that Ben could get away with. Ben followed Varis’ gaze, only to feel the shame hitting him once again when he laid eyes on that white head. The conversation wasn’t particularly going anywhere, but he wasn’t entirely sure which way to steer it. Speaking with a Sinnenodel was more about survivability than anything, but Varis was tame. At the moment, anyway. He supposed that his father was right.
That thought alone nearly made him want to retch and he nearly missed the question. “My family is the fourth oldest bloodline of the Eves,” He said, running a hand over his face. “And my father is Pierce Devan.” Of whom he would have preferred not to think or speak about, but here they were. His mood was soured, but he couldn’t tell if it was due to his father or the visible reminder of being shot in the kneecap with that mage of his.
In an effort to save his mood and keep from speaking on his father, he decided to change the topic, “I’ve heard you aren’t the only heir attending. The Marivaldi Countess must be an interesting mystery to unravel.”
“The Marivaldi heiress, if you can still consider her one, is as lackadaisical as her lack of public appearances have painted her. Absolutely plain and little in the way of wit. I believe it’s the abhorrent obsession with mage rights. They have more than they’ve had in centuries and they still dally with the help. Their holiday is representative enough.” Varis hand-waved the thought of Amaris away. “I’m far more interested in the son of Pierce Devan. With a power vacuum to fill, I’m more surprised with how much energy you’re willing to redirect to the charity case you were given.” Varis’ knowledge of Benjamin’s father was lacking. Bending the Eve’s had fallen squarely on the shoulders of his Lady and even Varis wasn’t foolish enough to trespass in her territory. He knew those Lady Sinnendodel funded and passingly of the other players but his focus was on other projects. But Ben presented an opportunity he couldn’t resist.
“I doubt there is love lost between your father and yourself considering your easy dismissal of the subject. How do you feel about the situation the Eve household is in? Openings are so rare in our society. I can’t imagine you’ll ignore it.” Varis sat forward as he spoke, resting his chin on his hand. He lowered his voice as well to try and keep the conversation somewhat private.
Varis had no information on the countess, either. Either he was as useless as Lilie on that account or Ben would just have to see for himself. But he couldn't think too much on that as instead he chose to focus on a subject that Ben was not too happy to talk on: his father. Fortunately, he was well aware that this was an inevitability that he was more than prepared for. If there was ever a time to make his goals clear, it was now.
"If multitasking between duties and training a mage is beyond a vampire’s reach, then they don’t deserve the title of count. My father would wholeheartedly agree," Ben said. He would not elaborate on the barely-there relationship between himself and his father anymore than that. This wasn’t new to anyone who was familiar with his family’s dynamics. Perhaps Varis was fishing for information. He was looking at the wrong person for that, but he supposed it is what it is.
That said, it was his chance to make a statement. "As for the current power vacuum, the solution is simple: I have every intention of taking the role of Lord for myself, of course."
Varis leaned back, adjusting his gloves absently, and cast an appraising look over Ben. What ambition. Clearly not quite cut from the same cloth as his weakling house but ambition was the trait of the bold and the stupid in equal measure. He still hadn’t settled on which this Eve was but he was still favoring the latter. “Lord of the Eves. A lofty goal, an admirable goal. But how do you plan to accomplish that? Dracul’s passing put your father in a stronger position than ever. You’d have to climb over him to get to it at this point. Not that I intend to discourage you from cannibalizing your familial relations for power but I don’t see that type of desperation in you, Count Benjamin. Where do you plan to begin?”
Ben suppressed the chuckle coming from him. He wasn’t about to show his hand to a Sinnenodel, especially when nothing was guaranteed. He was, after all, still working on getting other support, but he supposed that Varis wondered where his confidence was coming from. “There are things I would like to change, and to make that change, I need power. What better power than the seat of the Lord? Although, if it comes off as desperation, I’ll keep that in mind,” He briefly mused as he sat back in his seat. “I’m currently looking for influence outside of my father’s circle, and after seeking council from other, older vampires, I think I’ll have what I need to take the needed steps forward.”
He remained confident, but he supposed now was as good a time as ever to keep his word. “Her Highness has her reasons for choosing us as our houses’ representatives. I feel she sees something in each of us, whether it be ambition, drive, power...and as such, I think it would be to our mutual benefit to have a positive relationship while attending the academy. Maintain the peace and what have you.”
“Her Highness pulls families apart with a poorly guised demand. I’m not naive enough to believe she’s choosing us for her Academy’s reputation or to foster whatever ambiguous talents she sees in us. She’s calculating in her choices and that’s why our Queen is as lenient with this place as she is. Look at her choices from the Houses. From the Marivaldis, she summons the last heiress of the previous Lord despite the rumors suggesting she has plans to overthrow Salazar. It isn’t a stretch of the imagination Ryner is showing her support for the vampiress and is setting up a direct conflict in the public eye between the two Houses. From the Sinnenodels, she takes the favorite of Lady Sinnenodel herself. While we are colleagues on Council matters, this puts a key opponent to many of her propositions under her direct authority. Coupled with a position that already drives vampires to bask in the sunlight, Her Highness can effectively stall my ability to intervene in any of her plans while also attempting to usher me out of my position that much faster.” Varis commented, ticking the families on his fingers as he spoke. “From the Eve’s, she specifically took the children of the two most powerful Traditionalist factions. With the recent passing of Count Dracul, your father is in the prime position to combine the two and remove the modernists’ favorite from power. How interesting that she called you after a long line of others. Normally, I’d argue choosing you was intended to foster your House’s instability but doing nothing would achieve that faster.” Varis tapped on the table next to them as he spoke.
“And then of course, there is the low born Astorio. An odd choice considering the pedigrees of her other Noble representatives. I was admittedly confused about the decision, how the juxtaposition of breeding made the Astorios look, until I had a conversation with the vampire. A headhunter for the Council. And with no one else on the Council in the immediate vicinity, the Princess has direct authority over him.” Varis chuckled darkly. “Right next door to the three potential heirs. Funny how it all works out, hm? Ryner is several hundred years old. She preaches tolerance and peace but she’s as ruthless as her sister.” And didn’t Varis know that. Although, he begrudgingly admitted it worked in their favor. Getting the up and coming son of the Traditionalist faction in the Eves under their thumb was brilliant and he hated her for it.
“The Sinnenodels find positive relationships are built on reciprocation and frankly Count Benjamin, I’m not entirely sure what you have to offer me in return. I find it strange that although I know your father’s status, I was unaware of you. Curious. Most advertise their progeny with pride.” Varis considered his options. Clearly, Count Benjamin was going somewhere. That much was clear. But Varis wasn’t sure where he was falling just yet and he was hesitant to make investments into a vampire he’d barely met. If he truly was aiming for the Lordship, he was in the perfect position to take it. Just a twist of the knife in a few spots and he’d be sitting at the Council in no time. It piqued his curiosity enough to move forward. He’d add this to Malek’s task list later tonight. “Now that being said, your plain ambition has caught my attention. So I propose a gathering of the nobles here at the Academy. I’ll arrange the affair, list you as the guest of honor, start a few positive comments among the mages at the Academy, really set the foundation for these positive relations you spoke of. I imagine it’d be easier if the nobles prime council were favorable towards you and who better to act as your foil than the conniving Count Sinnenodel.”
The anonymity worked in his favor once again. Ben would never admit that there was a reason his father never mentioned him, but to be frank, for once he could say that it was for the best. That could be easily waved away by any number of excuses, but instead he was cautious about the offer presented to him. Perhaps he had been too naive to think that simply coexisting without issue was too much to ask. At this point in time there was little that Ben could offer in return and the idea of owing a Sinnenodel was dangerous. He had one or two things he could possibly offer in return but nothing concrete. He would have to take a gamble and see what would happen.
Ben ended up agreeing with Varis, leaning forward casually in his seat. "You're right. And for that, I do have something to offer in return," He kept his voice low before he continued, "I have it under good authority that there is a myriad of assassination attempts in your house—as I'm sure that much is commonplace among nobility, but what sets this set apart are the targets. Mainly those of the eldest bloodlines." He made sure to pay careful attention to the count's response.
"Assassinations against the eldest bloodlines?" Varis murmured thoughtfully. It was halfway through his career. It was only a matter of time before his rivals took aim but he doubted anyone would start with assassination attempts this early. Which left one exhausting cultript. She couldn't wait another decade or two before she started getting bored with them? He’d need to double down on the boy’s affinity practice and swordplay. “Is that all? Some baseless rumors someone, somewhere, at sometime will try and assassinate us? The list of enemies we have as a House would rival some of the longest pieces of literature known to vampire kind. Is there more to this like some sort of dramatic pause because from where I stand, I’m setting you up for a bright future and only getting vague warnings in response.” Varis resisted the urge to pull out his phone and review the update security features Malek forwarded to him.
Ben thought that was a rather disinterested response all things considered. He did, however, recall his father's information on the Sinnenodel heir. Varis was either a talented actor or a fool, and Ben wasn't going to assume the latter just yet. However, he had yet to fully convince him. That much was fair at least, he would need to get the information from the duchess.
"As a gesture of goodwill and proof of my intentions I will get you specifics—I can assure you that I received that information on good authority and can get more in a relatively short amount of time," Ben promised.
“Normally, I don’t take promises as a reasonable exchange but I’ll make an exception for a beneficial future.” Varis agreed after a few minutes of consideration and took out his phone, pulling up his calendar. “We’ll have a midnight blood tasting. I recommend your mage prepare a demonstration of a skill; the other nobles are sure to be interested in someone worthy of Ryner’s generosity.”
“Now, for invitations. They’ll go out in a few days but considering our lack of familiarity, what title would you prefer on them? I doubt Count Benjamin Pierce of House Eve is enough to do the son of Devon Pierce justice.” Varis asked.
Ben wasn’t entirely sure how to feel, albeit despite supposedly being the one to benefit he couldn’t help but feel that he had somehow lost. At the very least nothing of value was taken, with one foot in the door he could make his own impression to the other nobles. He would have to contact Duchess Perez at the first chance he could to recall exactly what it was that she had told him. As for the demonstration, he sincerely believed it to be a good idea; he hadn’t the slightest clue what his mage was capable of now that he thought about it.
He did, however, give Varis a pointed look with the arrival of his question. “That will do just fine,” He stated plainly. “Should it change, I’m certain it would be known to all.”
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
Home was a bittersweet struggle for Varis. The silence and the stillness that permeated his family home suited Varis just fine. It was a much needed respite from the chaos that came from working with Ryner and for his Lady in equal measure. But the ghosts of his old life ambushed him in the quiet of the halls, the crackle of the fire as in flickered in the library, the starlight drifting across the snow across the fields the isolated him. The stuttering violin of a younger him after his mother’s death, the shredded pages fluttering around him when he crossed his brother once too many times, and… Antwone pulled at right as expected, five minutes before their appointed time. Varis slid into the back, helping himself to his favorite travel bottle and the blood glass Eloise brought back from her last soiree with Edgar’s show mages. How the vampire managed to get anything done with all the parties Varis would never know but at least it kept Eloise busy when he didn’t have anything specific for her to do. Varis poured himself a tall glass as his mage finished putting away his luggage and pulled away.
More than once this semester, Varis wished alcohol could numb a vampire’s problems. He’d thought their little deal was an easy favor but by the Queen’s saving grace, the boy was an idiot! A perfect pedigree, an amazing affinity, an education even a noble’s show mage would be envious of and he couldn’t even figure out where to put cufflinks without cuffs and embarrassed his own master in such a public manner. Varis could only imagine Landar was rolling in his grave. A mage of the Starag line who was nothing more than a glorified side table. Anything more complex than holding something and Varis had to hold the idiot’s hand through it. Varis let his hopes get up after the brat did something passingly well and look where that got him.
Varis tapped his foot irritably against the passenger seat. He harbored little doubt that any other House would have backed out of this deal but any Sinnendel worth their name would rather walk into the sunlight. Varis wasn’t sure which was worse right now. The Count was no stranger to breaking mage’s. The more willful, the more fulfilling it was to watch the personality fade from their eyes. But the boy presented a challenge he hadn’t handled yet: a mage dependant on his servitude. He never considered that a mage could use their position as a shield. A distraction, an excuse? Par the course. But a full suit of armor? Varis was baffled and everytime he thought he found a chink in it, the boy would just adjust to it. The stubborn mage was frustrating and frustration made him impatient and impatience embarrassed him.
The ride home was silent. The privacy screen stayed up, Antwone kept the drive smooth and took the scenic detour Varis preferred when he was drawn a little too thin, and pulled into home with no fanfare. A servant, eyes kept determinedly on the floor, opened Varis’ door and scuttled away with the luggage as soon as Varis was out. He waited until he was alone again and ran his hand through his hair, a weary smile breaking through. The Count always prefered the first few hours to himself in solitary contemplation as he wandered the family’s garden, a massive maze that they’d kept up for as long as they could remember. Varis had transplanted a wide variety of flowers through the maze to add a little color through the seasons but otherwise left it the same.
“Finally home.” Varis murmured, the tension melting away as he took the first steps into the garden. It had been years since he’d let himself take his usual paths through the garden. It had been years since he’d let the familiarity fade and focus on how the moonlight played in the shrubs. Years since he’d put behind the demands of Court and Council, of the monster he served, of childish Duke and Duchess’, and now from the weariness of a deal he wasn’t sure he could twist in his favor. Here in the garden, he felt closer to… something, a vague feeling or a memory blurry and faded with age. Fleeting impressions of bitterness, of heartbreak, of laughter, of longing, of fury. He followed them more often in his youth; an escape from a tyrannical father and apathetic siblings as he ran down the hallways of his own mind. These impressions always left him with more questions than not but he’d come to a startling realization about it.
It comforted him. Knowing there would always be a new puzzle, a new riddle, a challenge in the days he grew bored with the tediousness of his projects. More than one vampire lost their minds when everything stagnated around them but Varis had his own little puzzle locked away where no one could find it. On the nights his web wove itself and the pieces of his grand schemes just fell into his lap, he could always steal away for a few hours and chase these intangible clues as far as he could. He could try again and again and again because he never seemed to make any headway. He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy and he certainly couldn’t handle these complications every night but once in a while, it was an excellent headrush.
Varis enjoyed it for a while longer but he knew there was work to be done. He followed the twists and turns to his childhood spot, a secret little swirl that opened to reveal a jagged piece of stone tucked away under a wooden pagoda. His grandfather stole it from an archeological site he helped fund before the finds were reported to the Noilas. Archaic writings covered the stone, a language Ryner refused to teach him. Varis worried his lip at the thought, rolling his eyes at the familiar fight, and he bent down to the base of the pagoda, prying open a loose board, and pulling out a long, thin wooden box. He hadn’t opened it since the 25th anniversary of his mother’s passing but he hadn’t needed to. He knew what was inside by heart but seeing it again might help clear his head. He slipped it into his jacket, replaced the board, and headed into the castle.
His family’s castle was a dark, imposing structure. Three spires clawed at the sky as they rose out of a heavily fortified manor, dark and imposing on the skyline. The design choice was from an era before the vampire lords worked together rather than against and his twice great grandmother brutally crushed the weak territories around her and brought them under her reign. Varis pushed his way into the main hall, not bothering to acknowledge the older mage waiting with a briefcase and a tablet in hand. The man fell in step with Varis exactly two paces behind him and paused when Varis picked up the mail his mages determined important. He almost groaned at the familiar handwriting on one and immediately shoved it to the bottom of the pile. If it had been important, his presence would have been demanded immediately after the Academy.
“How is the situation with the Noble Hearts?” Varis asked as flipped through the various envelopes.
“Their preliminary evaluations of the Duke’s protections have been concluded. An estimate for their services are on your desk. I authorized the funds with your treasury two nights ago and provided the transfer account. It only needs your signature.” The man rasped.
“It’ll be signed before the sun rises. I expect the evidence will be delivered with payment?” Varis waited for confirmation and sneered. “Excellent. A kidnapping and a framing. That nosey Marivaldi will be busy for a bit. How is the Eve situation?”
“Dracul’s death has dealt a major blow to the traditionalist grip in the family. Nox originally controlled the investigation and handled the remaining estates but Countess Arianna has submitted an official transfer of estate to Princess Ryner and has opted to sequester herself in a distant family holding. Princess Nox will lose control of the estate in less than a week.” The mage offered Varis a single sheet of paper from his briefcase. “A contact in the investigation passed along a few notes of interest. It seems more than one vampire sent their mage to investigate the situation but we’ve managed to keep our Lady’s private support out of the public eye thus far.”
“When Ryner gets her claws in it, that’ll be a PR nightmare.” Varis grumbled. Nox may not like the Sinnenodels but she was a stickler for rules. Any investigations would be handled quietly, privately. But Ryner wasn’t interested in solving a murder. Putting the family under public scrutiny would drive a wedge between the Queen and his Lady, giving her a little more breathing room but Varis would be the one to suffer the consequences of that decision and he would be damned if he was going to willingly stab himself in the chest. His Lady tortured him enough as it was. Literally. “Malek, handle this. Every gift, every letter, anything that would show our support, I want it gone. Dracul wasn’t an idiot but he was old and old vampires are predictable. He’s bound to have some sort of blackmail floating around. I want it gone last night.” Varis glanced down at the short list of likely suspects. Only two were verified but he wasn’t worried about them. Devon Pierce and Nintrella Sinnenodel though…
“Investigate these two. I want to know who they sent, what they were looking into, and where they went with their information.” Varis commanded and passed the list back. “Have Eloise secure a meeting with the Countess during my next break and remind Edgar he owes me for the last fiasco he caused with my Lady. I want his mages watching Nintrella until that meeting. I won’t have a horse faced gambling addict trying to usurp my position.”
“Immediately Count Varis. As well, we discovered the source of the leak while you were gone. My grandson was persuaded by an outside interest into granting them access to your private records vault. They managed to escape but we have added additional wards against intrusion. Nothing was lost but Joshua has been detained since.” Malek droned as he took back the page, adding a few notes, and slipping it into his briefcase. “Unfortunately, the Marivaldis managed to dismantle your preferred buyer. Would you care to reach out to Count Dominick or Countess Annita?”
“Really? They shut down the Grey Dancer? How disappointing. Barbaric activities aside, they had the best bottled agony in the entire realm.” Varis sighed but considered his options. “Joshua is 16? Too young for Annita so sell him off to Dominick. We’ll get less but they only buy garbage for their dogs.” Behind Varis, Malek’s shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes for a moment longer than a blink before he managed to compose himself.
“It will be done, Count Varis.” Malek bowed and vanished with murmured incantation.
Varis climbed the stairs to his room as he shuffled through his letters. Brown nosing from Countess Fennila after he ruled against her in a business dispute with one of her duchesses. Typical. He’d expected it sooner but she was always one to sulk for a few years before she moved on. Whining from some nobody about a comment he made at some party or another that he couldn’t bother remembering. And, of course, the worst of the lot. A letter handwritten by his Lady herself. He waited until he was in his room, door shut firmly behind him, to open it.
Count Varis Sinnenodel,
Your presence is expected at Lady Sinnenodel's Raining Star Villa along with all documentation on the acquisitions of Green Vision Inc and plans for hosting Chaend. Lady Sinnenodel's attendant will arrive in two days. Arraignments for your meeting with the Astorio Counts have been made. Expect to return to the Noila Academy directly from the Villa.
Secretary of the luminous Lady Sinnenodel.
He reread the letter as his plans for his break slowly crumbled around him. He thought the meeting with the rest of board of Green Vision would protect him from anything she planned but clearly he was far too optimistic. The page started trembling and red blotches suddenly bloomed on the page. Varis frowned.What an odd thing for paper to do. He tossed it on his desk and made his way around the room, immediately preparing for his next trip. He’d have his school things shipped from here to the school when it was time. He spent an eternity, or a second he wasn’t really sure, putting together his luggage for his next trip. He was sure he wouldn’t use all of it but he may as well be prepared in case she changed up how she messed with him. Though he’d really have to talk with someone about those red dots on his clothes. They were clearly blood stains. Maybe someone died doing the laundry. Just another headache.
Soon enough, the mechanical task of folding laundry was done and separated into piles of red stains and no red stains. He stared at them for a while longer, head blank and body heavy, before moving onto the next task which was… He froze again as he saw the letter on the desk but the welling dread never came. His hands trembled again, he noted with indifference, and he moved to smooth out his jacket when he felt the lump. He pulled out the box he retrieved earlier, placed it on top of the letter, and gingerly slid off the lid. He pulled out the parchment gingerly and carefully rolled them out and weighed them down. He smiled weakly at the thin, fading scrawl of music notes across the page. He knew the tune by heart but it had been half a decade since he had time to play. He fell asleep at his desk most nights unless one of his mages gently pushed him to bed or he was entertaining for the evening. With the added stress of teaching and sitting through these inane classes, Varis felt thinner than he ever had. And with his most convenient form of stress relief otherwise occupied for his limited window of freedom, Varis wasn’t sure how to make it better.
Until he looked at the violin sitting neatly on its stand. He realized with a start he hadn’t even considered picking up the instrument while he was away. He used to play it every night and he couldn’t remember when he stopped. He picked out the rosen from his desk and gently ran it over the bow and checked the strings. With every pass, every off note, Varis’ motions became more fluid and gentle. He felt the dried blood on his cheeks, the bubbling dread in his stomach, the faint but irritating tremble in his fingers but at least he felt in control again. He tucked the instrument under his chin, held the bow poised over the strings, and counted the beat in his head. His eyes closed at the familiarity.
The first pass of the bow drained the tension from his shoulders and each one after lightened them even more. He fell into the familiar melody, forgetting everything that loomed dark around him and drifted off into a time he didn’t care for all these vampires and mages and their muddlesome politics. When he only cared about the approval of one person and the words his books took them away to. When this song made him feel more alive than any drop of blood and the mysteries of the past were his only concern.
Varis played into the night and well into the day, the passing mage covering the windows before he burned himself alive, until Malek pried the instrument from where Varis slept standing with the bow still on the strings.
More than once this semester, Varis wished alcohol could numb a vampire’s problems. He’d thought their little deal was an easy favor but by the Queen’s saving grace, the boy was an idiot! A perfect pedigree, an amazing affinity, an education even a noble’s show mage would be envious of and he couldn’t even figure out where to put cufflinks without cuffs and embarrassed his own master in such a public manner. Varis could only imagine Landar was rolling in his grave. A mage of the Starag line who was nothing more than a glorified side table. Anything more complex than holding something and Varis had to hold the idiot’s hand through it. Varis let his hopes get up after the brat did something passingly well and look where that got him.
Varis tapped his foot irritably against the passenger seat. He harbored little doubt that any other House would have backed out of this deal but any Sinnendel worth their name would rather walk into the sunlight. Varis wasn’t sure which was worse right now. The Count was no stranger to breaking mage’s. The more willful, the more fulfilling it was to watch the personality fade from their eyes. But the boy presented a challenge he hadn’t handled yet: a mage dependant on his servitude. He never considered that a mage could use their position as a shield. A distraction, an excuse? Par the course. But a full suit of armor? Varis was baffled and everytime he thought he found a chink in it, the boy would just adjust to it. The stubborn mage was frustrating and frustration made him impatient and impatience embarrassed him.
The ride home was silent. The privacy screen stayed up, Antwone kept the drive smooth and took the scenic detour Varis preferred when he was drawn a little too thin, and pulled into home with no fanfare. A servant, eyes kept determinedly on the floor, opened Varis’ door and scuttled away with the luggage as soon as Varis was out. He waited until he was alone again and ran his hand through his hair, a weary smile breaking through. The Count always prefered the first few hours to himself in solitary contemplation as he wandered the family’s garden, a massive maze that they’d kept up for as long as they could remember. Varis had transplanted a wide variety of flowers through the maze to add a little color through the seasons but otherwise left it the same.
“Finally home.” Varis murmured, the tension melting away as he took the first steps into the garden. It had been years since he’d let himself take his usual paths through the garden. It had been years since he’d let the familiarity fade and focus on how the moonlight played in the shrubs. Years since he’d put behind the demands of Court and Council, of the monster he served, of childish Duke and Duchess’, and now from the weariness of a deal he wasn’t sure he could twist in his favor. Here in the garden, he felt closer to… something, a vague feeling or a memory blurry and faded with age. Fleeting impressions of bitterness, of heartbreak, of laughter, of longing, of fury. He followed them more often in his youth; an escape from a tyrannical father and apathetic siblings as he ran down the hallways of his own mind. These impressions always left him with more questions than not but he’d come to a startling realization about it.
It comforted him. Knowing there would always be a new puzzle, a new riddle, a challenge in the days he grew bored with the tediousness of his projects. More than one vampire lost their minds when everything stagnated around them but Varis had his own little puzzle locked away where no one could find it. On the nights his web wove itself and the pieces of his grand schemes just fell into his lap, he could always steal away for a few hours and chase these intangible clues as far as he could. He could try again and again and again because he never seemed to make any headway. He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy and he certainly couldn’t handle these complications every night but once in a while, it was an excellent headrush.
Varis enjoyed it for a while longer but he knew there was work to be done. He followed the twists and turns to his childhood spot, a secret little swirl that opened to reveal a jagged piece of stone tucked away under a wooden pagoda. His grandfather stole it from an archeological site he helped fund before the finds were reported to the Noilas. Archaic writings covered the stone, a language Ryner refused to teach him. Varis worried his lip at the thought, rolling his eyes at the familiar fight, and he bent down to the base of the pagoda, prying open a loose board, and pulling out a long, thin wooden box. He hadn’t opened it since the 25th anniversary of his mother’s passing but he hadn’t needed to. He knew what was inside by heart but seeing it again might help clear his head. He slipped it into his jacket, replaced the board, and headed into the castle.
His family’s castle was a dark, imposing structure. Three spires clawed at the sky as they rose out of a heavily fortified manor, dark and imposing on the skyline. The design choice was from an era before the vampire lords worked together rather than against and his twice great grandmother brutally crushed the weak territories around her and brought them under her reign. Varis pushed his way into the main hall, not bothering to acknowledge the older mage waiting with a briefcase and a tablet in hand. The man fell in step with Varis exactly two paces behind him and paused when Varis picked up the mail his mages determined important. He almost groaned at the familiar handwriting on one and immediately shoved it to the bottom of the pile. If it had been important, his presence would have been demanded immediately after the Academy.
“How is the situation with the Noble Hearts?” Varis asked as flipped through the various envelopes.
“Their preliminary evaluations of the Duke’s protections have been concluded. An estimate for their services are on your desk. I authorized the funds with your treasury two nights ago and provided the transfer account. It only needs your signature.” The man rasped.
“It’ll be signed before the sun rises. I expect the evidence will be delivered with payment?” Varis waited for confirmation and sneered. “Excellent. A kidnapping and a framing. That nosey Marivaldi will be busy for a bit. How is the Eve situation?”
“Dracul’s death has dealt a major blow to the traditionalist grip in the family. Nox originally controlled the investigation and handled the remaining estates but Countess Arianna has submitted an official transfer of estate to Princess Ryner and has opted to sequester herself in a distant family holding. Princess Nox will lose control of the estate in less than a week.” The mage offered Varis a single sheet of paper from his briefcase. “A contact in the investigation passed along a few notes of interest. It seems more than one vampire sent their mage to investigate the situation but we’ve managed to keep our Lady’s private support out of the public eye thus far.”
“When Ryner gets her claws in it, that’ll be a PR nightmare.” Varis grumbled. Nox may not like the Sinnenodels but she was a stickler for rules. Any investigations would be handled quietly, privately. But Ryner wasn’t interested in solving a murder. Putting the family under public scrutiny would drive a wedge between the Queen and his Lady, giving her a little more breathing room but Varis would be the one to suffer the consequences of that decision and he would be damned if he was going to willingly stab himself in the chest. His Lady tortured him enough as it was. Literally. “Malek, handle this. Every gift, every letter, anything that would show our support, I want it gone. Dracul wasn’t an idiot but he was old and old vampires are predictable. He’s bound to have some sort of blackmail floating around. I want it gone last night.” Varis glanced down at the short list of likely suspects. Only two were verified but he wasn’t worried about them. Devon Pierce and Nintrella Sinnenodel though…
“Investigate these two. I want to know who they sent, what they were looking into, and where they went with their information.” Varis commanded and passed the list back. “Have Eloise secure a meeting with the Countess during my next break and remind Edgar he owes me for the last fiasco he caused with my Lady. I want his mages watching Nintrella until that meeting. I won’t have a horse faced gambling addict trying to usurp my position.”
“Immediately Count Varis. As well, we discovered the source of the leak while you were gone. My grandson was persuaded by an outside interest into granting them access to your private records vault. They managed to escape but we have added additional wards against intrusion. Nothing was lost but Joshua has been detained since.” Malek droned as he took back the page, adding a few notes, and slipping it into his briefcase. “Unfortunately, the Marivaldis managed to dismantle your preferred buyer. Would you care to reach out to Count Dominick or Countess Annita?”
“Really? They shut down the Grey Dancer? How disappointing. Barbaric activities aside, they had the best bottled agony in the entire realm.” Varis sighed but considered his options. “Joshua is 16? Too young for Annita so sell him off to Dominick. We’ll get less but they only buy garbage for their dogs.” Behind Varis, Malek’s shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes for a moment longer than a blink before he managed to compose himself.
“It will be done, Count Varis.” Malek bowed and vanished with murmured incantation.
Varis climbed the stairs to his room as he shuffled through his letters. Brown nosing from Countess Fennila after he ruled against her in a business dispute with one of her duchesses. Typical. He’d expected it sooner but she was always one to sulk for a few years before she moved on. Whining from some nobody about a comment he made at some party or another that he couldn’t bother remembering. And, of course, the worst of the lot. A letter handwritten by his Lady herself. He waited until he was in his room, door shut firmly behind him, to open it.
Count Varis Sinnenodel,
Your presence is expected at Lady Sinnenodel's Raining Star Villa along with all documentation on the acquisitions of Green Vision Inc and plans for hosting Chaend. Lady Sinnenodel's attendant will arrive in two days. Arraignments for your meeting with the Astorio Counts have been made. Expect to return to the Noila Academy directly from the Villa.
Secretary of the luminous Lady Sinnenodel.
He reread the letter as his plans for his break slowly crumbled around him. He thought the meeting with the rest of board of Green Vision would protect him from anything she planned but clearly he was far too optimistic. The page started trembling and red blotches suddenly bloomed on the page. Varis frowned.What an odd thing for paper to do. He tossed it on his desk and made his way around the room, immediately preparing for his next trip. He’d have his school things shipped from here to the school when it was time. He spent an eternity, or a second he wasn’t really sure, putting together his luggage for his next trip. He was sure he wouldn’t use all of it but he may as well be prepared in case she changed up how she messed with him. Though he’d really have to talk with someone about those red dots on his clothes. They were clearly blood stains. Maybe someone died doing the laundry. Just another headache.
Soon enough, the mechanical task of folding laundry was done and separated into piles of red stains and no red stains. He stared at them for a while longer, head blank and body heavy, before moving onto the next task which was… He froze again as he saw the letter on the desk but the welling dread never came. His hands trembled again, he noted with indifference, and he moved to smooth out his jacket when he felt the lump. He pulled out the box he retrieved earlier, placed it on top of the letter, and gingerly slid off the lid. He pulled out the parchment gingerly and carefully rolled them out and weighed them down. He smiled weakly at the thin, fading scrawl of music notes across the page. He knew the tune by heart but it had been half a decade since he had time to play. He fell asleep at his desk most nights unless one of his mages gently pushed him to bed or he was entertaining for the evening. With the added stress of teaching and sitting through these inane classes, Varis felt thinner than he ever had. And with his most convenient form of stress relief otherwise occupied for his limited window of freedom, Varis wasn’t sure how to make it better.
Until he looked at the violin sitting neatly on its stand. He realized with a start he hadn’t even considered picking up the instrument while he was away. He used to play it every night and he couldn’t remember when he stopped. He picked out the rosen from his desk and gently ran it over the bow and checked the strings. With every pass, every off note, Varis’ motions became more fluid and gentle. He felt the dried blood on his cheeks, the bubbling dread in his stomach, the faint but irritating tremble in his fingers but at least he felt in control again. He tucked the instrument under his chin, held the bow poised over the strings, and counted the beat in his head. His eyes closed at the familiarity.
The first pass of the bow drained the tension from his shoulders and each one after lightened them even more. He fell into the familiar melody, forgetting everything that loomed dark around him and drifted off into a time he didn’t care for all these vampires and mages and their muddlesome politics. When he only cared about the approval of one person and the words his books took them away to. When this song made him feel more alive than any drop of blood and the mysteries of the past were his only concern.
Varis played into the night and well into the day, the passing mage covering the windows before he burned himself alive, until Malek pried the instrument from where Varis slept standing with the bow still on the strings.
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
Time: 10:45 - Staging Grounds
Colds wind swept over the campus the night of the practical exams, following in the wake of several days of clouds and light snow. Class had been cancelled for the first years to give them time to rest, eat, and prepare for the upcoming exam at midnight. The mage Professors had explained that the practical was a test of their magical ability and their teamwork with their vampire, who would be present with them in the forest at all times. The goal was to return from the drop point to the staging area before six am. Completing the goal generated an 80% for the practical and guaranteed passing. Failure to return to the staging ground by 6 am resulted in an automatic failure and a team of ages and vampires would collect the pair from the forest.
In order to find their way back, mages would have to employ the Dark Eyes charm to read a series of signs placed inside the forest and written with viatymbol. These signs had the directions to return to the staging area. The vampire would be magically disoriented and blinded for the duration, adding the extra challenge of a helpless addition that the mage had to guide through the forest and fostering the trust between vampire and mage. Vampires would wear a special amulet given at the staging area that would act as a homing beacon for the rescue teams in the event the pair required it.
The students had been instructed to dress warmly and meet at 10:15 at the bus stop, where students would be chartered from the school to the practical grounds. They had been warned that only their focus was permitted. No technology, including watches, and no navigational devices including maps and compasses. The atmosphere on the buses was nervous, every emotion from excitement to down right dread adding to the nervous sense, and even vampires shifted warily in the seats. Not many of them too kindly to the idea that they’d be losing the use of their sight for the duration but their protests had been shut down firmly by both their professors and Ryner with practiced ease. The other option was to withdraw from the school and no one wanted to drag down their family’s name. Royal guards accompanied each bus, two unmarked cars flanking them and four guards standing on the bus itself. Ryner made it clear that security had been increased for their protection and the practical was no different.
Busses pulled up at the grounds neatly at 10:45 and before being allowed to disembark, all students were required to leave any restricted items behind. They were magically scanned prior to leaving the bus, the guards confiscating cleverly hidden phones and notes and depositing them in lock boxes. The staging ground itself was a large clearing with several long tables. A variety of snacks and water bottles were being put in small bags for mages to take into the forest with them and another was handing out hand warmers for the cold night. Ryner stood with one of the guards and Dr. Manuel, the pair speaking quietly together while Gregor stared with disinterest at the arriving students though he did stand a little straighter than normal.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please!” Someone with a megaphone called out to the group. “The practical is set to begin at Midnight. If all vampires would please proceed to the Princess, we will begin preparing you for the enchantments. Mages, please take this time to grab food and water for the trip and some hand warmers in case you get cold! Once you have, find your name along the yellow line at the edge of the forest and your vampire will be brought to you. We will be giving out further instructions 15 minutes before the start of the practical.”
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
Hiroshi Damien Johnson Najira
15 * Male* October 14th, 2010
Physical Description: Hiroshi is relatively easy to miss at first glance. Shorter than most of his peers, Hiroshi barely reaches 5’ 4” and keeps a lean frame from daily workouts and regular time at his family’s dojo. He has black hair that he lets grow out just long enough for him to tie up when he practices and piercing blue eyes that he got from his dad’s european heritage. Unfortunately, he inherited his mother’s fair complexion that demands to stay indoors or it burns immediately. He usually keeps a few tubes of sunscreen handy in his bag just in case.
Personality Description: Hiroshi is blunt and believes a direct and honest approach is the best approach to any social interaction. He has little tolerance for drama and gets easily riled up when people involve him in it. If they’re pulling him in, they better expect a solution, not a comforting ear.
He tends to make good first impressions, his family instilling that much into him at least, and most people walk away thinking Hiroshi is a responsible level headed teenager but they would be incredibly wrong. Hiroshi is the friend that 100% supports kicking your bully into the dirt and curb stomping them without telling the teacher, that is already halfway out the door when you ask for a snack at 3am, and shows up to help you break out after curfew if you want to hang out. He responds to things instinctively and quickly, rarely thinking things all the way through before heading out.
That isn’t to say he doesn’t have more than a few insecurities. His biggest one is his height, or lack thereof, and if he is pushed too far on the issue, he’ll show off exactly what it means to be the heir to the Najira dojo. After all, they can’t tell his height if they’re face down in the dirt. But there are other things too. He collects soft, cute things, particularly in pink and purple, but hoards them privately. He has difficulty remembering people in the first few meetings so he introduces himself as Damien at school and Hiroshi at home so he knows based on how they greet him, where he knows them from.
Bio Description:
Hiroshi Damien Najira was born on a freezing October night in Shinhidaka, Hokkaido, one hundred miles from his mother’s ancestral home. Emika Najira was the second child of the master of the Najira Dojo, a famous training facility for Japanese olympians, athletes, and martial artists. The family claimed they were direct descendants from one of the original ninja of old times and every child is rigorously trained in their practice and are expected to serve in the Japanese Self Defense Forces in some capacity or another. Emika was no different, joining the JSDF when she was 18 and qualifying to enter the Directorate for Signals Intelligence two years later. She remained in the DSF for another five years, two over those overseas as part of a collaboration team with the U.N. intelligence community, before she let her contract with the JSDF expire.
When she returned, Damien Johnson followed her. Damien Johnson grew up in London proper, attending all his schooling in local boarding schools, until he graduated with a finance degree from Oxford university. He was a hot shot financial executive from a family well known for their political and medical accomplishments and he had all the intents to add financial into the family portfolio as well. Damien was a few years older than Emika but hopelessly smitten and he followed her back from England to Japan without a second thought.
He’d done his research. They’d talked about taking their relationship beyond where they were and when they reached the Najira family home, he asked for her hand in the traditional method. Her father had been originally set against the relationship, since he’d just found out barely a month before, but seeing his dedication changed his heart and he gave it the blessing on one condition: the children take the Najira family name. It worked perfectly into their plans. Emika never intended to give up her last name and they’d decided when they had children, they’d hyphenate their last names.
The pair relocated permanently to London for a year after their marriage but Emika found the city stifling. They found a home an hour away from London by train and the happy pair snatched it up easily. They kept their London home as well, the family’s income easily affording both. Emika established a second Najira Dojo in London and its reputation grew for the almost brutally intense master of the Dojo. Pulling on some connections she’d built from her time with the U.N., Emika was contracted to train new recruits accepted into british special services which she did with aplomb.
Two years later, they added Hiroshi to their family. He grew up much the same as his mother, in a strongly disciplined household despite his inherent tendency to chaos. His mother introduced him to the family traditions even earlier than normal because his energy was seemingly endless and he took to them like a fish to water. He displayed a startling aptitude for the martial arts, almost anything his mother could teach him, and quickly surpassed the classes for his age group. Once he had this to focus on, his grades also improved quickly now that he had an outlet for his excessive energy.
Growing up, Hiroshi never wanted for money. Between his dad’s explosive financial; career and his mother’s generous military contract on top of her fees for training olympians and martial artists that followed the famous family name, Hiroshi lived an incredibly modest life. The Najira family way ensured that it wasn’t lavish by any means but Hiroshi can sometimes be insensitive about the subject when he encounters quality beneath his expectations.
When she returned, Damien Johnson followed her. Damien Johnson grew up in London proper, attending all his schooling in local boarding schools, until he graduated with a finance degree from Oxford university. He was a hot shot financial executive from a family well known for their political and medical accomplishments and he had all the intents to add financial into the family portfolio as well. Damien was a few years older than Emika but hopelessly smitten and he followed her back from England to Japan without a second thought.
He’d done his research. They’d talked about taking their relationship beyond where they were and when they reached the Najira family home, he asked for her hand in the traditional method. Her father had been originally set against the relationship, since he’d just found out barely a month before, but seeing his dedication changed his heart and he gave it the blessing on one condition: the children take the Najira family name. It worked perfectly into their plans. Emika never intended to give up her last name and they’d decided when they had children, they’d hyphenate their last names.
The pair relocated permanently to London for a year after their marriage but Emika found the city stifling. They found a home an hour away from London by train and the happy pair snatched it up easily. They kept their London home as well, the family’s income easily affording both. Emika established a second Najira Dojo in London and its reputation grew for the almost brutally intense master of the Dojo. Pulling on some connections she’d built from her time with the U.N., Emika was contracted to train new recruits accepted into british special services which she did with aplomb.
Two years later, they added Hiroshi to their family. He grew up much the same as his mother, in a strongly disciplined household despite his inherent tendency to chaos. His mother introduced him to the family traditions even earlier than normal because his energy was seemingly endless and he took to them like a fish to water. He displayed a startling aptitude for the martial arts, almost anything his mother could teach him, and quickly surpassed the classes for his age group. Once he had this to focus on, his grades also improved quickly now that he had an outlet for his excessive energy.
Growing up, Hiroshi never wanted for money. Between his dad’s explosive financial; career and his mother’s generous military contract on top of her fees for training olympians and martial artists that followed the famous family name, Hiroshi lived an incredibly modest life. The Najira family way ensured that it wasn’t lavish by any means but Hiroshi can sometimes be insensitive about the subject when he encounters quality beneath his expectations.
Talents: Jiu jitsu (modern), Ninjutsu (previous), fighting games, holding his breath, silent walking
Academic Affinity: Cognitive Psychology, Japanese History, Japanese
Extra:
- Fluent in Japanese and English.
- Participates in the Kendo club (if it exists).
- Introduces himself as Damien at school. Only close friends are allowed to call him Hiroshi.
- Loves spicy food.
- Dawn is his favorite time of day.
- Struggles to stay up past 10pm.
Physical Description: Malvira Nia was easy to miss at first glance. Standing at 5’3 with moon pale skin and a lean frame packing more power than originally met the eye, most didn’t realize who she was until they coward underneath an unrelenting pair of crystal blue eyes. Malvira carried herself with a strength derived from confidence in her mission and a grace from years of combat and stealth training. By the end of her life, her body was littered with scars including three claw marks that ran across her face from a particularly nasty fight with a Martyr Favored.
Bio Description:
In the beginning, chaos reigned. Light and Dark, and the spirits that lived within, clashed since time immemorial. Eons of incessant fighting passed before a tentative balance was reached. This softer push and pull, give and take, created the earth, the sky, and all the creatures that lived in between. These newly created creatures saw the opposing forces as they did now. They honored those responsible for their creation and gave the forces names: Dia and Nia. The spirits of both were uncertain how to handle these newly formed creatures and so they flocked to the new world to see what they created for themselves.
As the Dark is wont to do, the spirits of Nia wandered among the new creations immediately. They found these new mortals endlessly fascinating and with time, doted on them. Their hearts filled with affection and they brought the struggling mortal under their wing. They taught them what they knew: they taught the mortals compassion and empathy, they taught them the importance of creativity and imagination, they taught them magic to hide and disappear and ways to brew elixirs for sickness. The spirits of Nia filled with love for these mortals and they lamented at how their children were stolen from them as they aged and passed. They hadn't known the pain of a loved one lost and with the passion the Children of Nia would become renowned for, the Darkness sacrificed it’s immortality to share its power with all of its children if only to live on with each of them forever.
Meanwhile, the spirits of Dia descended on another part of the mortals and found themselves enamoured with the image of themselves the mortals revered. The spirits took the form of powerful, winged creatures and claimed their place as the rulers of these lesser mortal races. They taught their servants architecture and business, built up trade and religion, and taught them to navigate with the stars. The Dia found the mortals pathetic, sad, and endlessly naive as their efforts served to exoll the Dia in all ways. As a gesture of good will, the Dia raised a single mortal above the rest and imbued him with a little power from each Dia, ensuring that they were unaffected by the sacrifice, and called him the Favored. The Favored gained powers beyond what any single mortal possessed and he ruled over the mortals of the Dia.
Although the existence of the world and its creatures benefited all spirits equally, the time old tensions rose between them and the mortals shifted to accommodate. The mortals of Dia and the mortals of Nia drifted apart and territory disputes began. The spirits recognized the threat their fighting possessed and so they met away from the mortal place to discuss how to proceed. Negotiations were tense. The conclave nearly quit or came to blows but weeks later, they came to a conclusion: ritual combat.
Every 10 years, the Children of Nia and the Favored would meet on the border of the territory of Dia and Nia to act as proxies for their guiding spirits. This would allow the world to remain in one piece and slake the spirits’ instinctual need to clash with each other.
The Dia didn’t change their practice. A single mortal would be raised, granted powers beyond mortal capacity, and rule the rest. This mortal would be the Dia’s champion at the Conclave event each year until the next Favored was old enough to carry the burden.
However, the Nia had long lost their immortality. Instead, the trained their descendants in ancient techniques, melding magic with martial might. It was no secret they didn’t have the brute strength to overcome the Dia’s Favored so they learned. They studied everything they could, honed their skills day and night, and relied on each other. These families that dedicated themselves to the cause of the spirits became known as the Keepers of Nia. They swore a sacred vow to protect their communities from harm within and without. Many of the Keepers would step away from leadership roles because it clouded their ability to watch for threats impartially. Others took up the mantle eagerly and thrived.
So the world found an odd peace. Tensions between the communities faded away as the natural balance was found once again. It seemed a utopia.
Until 5000 years later, when a Favored discovered the Dia were only using the mortal race for their own gain and in his fury, massacred the Dia and absorbed the entirety of their powers. The Light consumed his mind, transforming him into an angelic beauty. His face turned to porcelain, forever twisted in the visage of his final lament, and he rose above his lands with only thoughts filled with the greed of the Dia. They fed him and his need for power extended past the lands of his people. His advisors begged him against and he branded them as heretics, killing them in the streets of their own home. The horror that he saw that day marked his entire people as traitors and he considered them worthless. Now called the Archon, he used his powers to warp his people into immortal creatures made in his own image. Twisted beauties, they became known as the Favored. Like the Archon, each face was now a porcelain mask displaying whatever last expression that had before the transformation claimed their minds.
The Archon declared war and it was brutal. Faced with the unrelenting might of Light and the unchecked fury of the Archon at the mere existence of Dark, the Keepers were soon forced to retreat. They herded as many as they could into the inner territories, setting wards and barriers to stall the Archon’s advance. They established cities with walls and gates infused with shadow, developed techniques that allowed their blades to drip darkness, and mastered guerrilla warfare and infiltration. The varied techniques of the past slowly died as the Keepers fought for survival.
Those caught outside the protected cities would soon find their minds succumbing to the light of the Archon and warping into one of its Favored. The Favored knew nothing of compassion, of mercy. They only knew of the ever growing hunger for power and conquest. To make matters worse, the Keepers discovered that the longer the war continued, the more new generations were born without the connection to the Nia. Hope was a scarce resource as 10 of the 12 cities collapsed beneath the Archon’s might and the remaining free mortals began to starve without the land to feed themselves.
Driven to desperate measures, the Keepers infiltrated the Archon’s Citadel in hopes of stumbling across any information on a critical weakness of the Archon and its Favored. Instead, they learned the nightmarish ritual the Archon used to strip the Dia of their power and start its age of unending bloodshed. They barely managed to escape with the information but the sacrifices they suffered were not in vain.
It took a century to complete the ritual. The second of the remaining free cities was battered with the renewed wrath of the Archon. Previous failures to complete the ritual cost the Keepers another life but in the end, the Keepers stripped themselves and their ancestors of their power and imbued it into one single child. Malvira Nia was raised under strict tutelage with the understanding that she was the child ever Keeper―no. Every mortal―placed their hopes in. It was stifling. A burden put on shoulders not yet strong enough to hold it. So she ran.
It would take years but watching the sister city of her own crumble beneath the Favored woke her up to the necessity of her destiny. She threw herself into her training, rallying the people behind her, and rode out to push back the Favored with her own soldiers besides her. For the first time in 5000 years, the Keepers won a battle.
The war was tough and at every corner, Malvira Nia was there to restore her soldier's resolve and defend them in battle. But as great of a leader, a general, and a soldier she was, anyone under her command would acknowledge that she was distant and cold. Most commended her dedication, even expected it, but those closest to her knew she accepted death as a certainty and they fought back against it. Those who grew up with her, her tutors, and even the few stragistest she worked closely with worked to make her open up, to accept that they could figure out a solution in which she lives because nothing in this world is ever certain.
It took the near death of someone she loved to make her change her mind. Malvira was known for risky operations that only relied on her but the soldier who would become Malvira’s life partner interfered when Malvira was close to failure, successfully turning the tide of the operation but nearly dying in the process. Mavira learned that day what she would be leaving behind if she died recklessly and her operations became less risky, more calculated. It drove her forced forward even faster. The old Keepers learned how to revert the Favored from their twisted state back to mortality and their numbers swelled.
It was a tale as old as time. The inevitable clash of Light and Dark that would put an end to this war once and for all. The Archon discovered Malvira’s love and capitalized on it, manipulating the resistance forces to sending her life partner and another small group to infiltrate what was supposedly a low risk encampment that the Archon itself would appear at moments after the group’s capture. Malvira was handling a wave of new Favored assaults when she received the news. She turned on her heel and rode into the night to face the Archon face on without a word to anyone.
The Archon’s intent was to mow Malvira down with the Favored but its pride demanded he accept the challenge she threw in its face. Their battle lasted three days and three nights. Her forces rallied to her, trying to penetrate the heart of the encampment to offer the last Keeper their support but they couldn’t keep up with the sheer numbers. Her friends, her family, her soldiers fell to the light and transformed into Favored even as she battled it’s source. Malvira’s rage and desperation built with every fallen friend.
The dawn of the fourth day broke the stalemate. The building fury finally exploded and drove her blade, dripping with Darkness, into the Archon’s heart and he crumbled to the ground, the Light fading as he did. The Favored shifted back. It was a painful, terrifying process but eventually the Favored would return to their mortal forms once more. Malvira thought she’d escaped.
But the Archon had one final curse. A spiteful curse on this land and those who defied him, the Archon uttered it with its final breath and a torrent of Light was unleashed on the world. For there to be harmony, Light and Darkness must be in balance and now that Light was let back into the world, Malvira knew the Darkness inside her was needed as well. She gave herself over to the Dark and she faded along with the Archon, the darkness pouring out of her to neutralize the Archon’s curse.
As the Dark is wont to do, the spirits of Nia wandered among the new creations immediately. They found these new mortals endlessly fascinating and with time, doted on them. Their hearts filled with affection and they brought the struggling mortal under their wing. They taught them what they knew: they taught the mortals compassion and empathy, they taught them the importance of creativity and imagination, they taught them magic to hide and disappear and ways to brew elixirs for sickness. The spirits of Nia filled with love for these mortals and they lamented at how their children were stolen from them as they aged and passed. They hadn't known the pain of a loved one lost and with the passion the Children of Nia would become renowned for, the Darkness sacrificed it’s immortality to share its power with all of its children if only to live on with each of them forever.
Meanwhile, the spirits of Dia descended on another part of the mortals and found themselves enamoured with the image of themselves the mortals revered. The spirits took the form of powerful, winged creatures and claimed their place as the rulers of these lesser mortal races. They taught their servants architecture and business, built up trade and religion, and taught them to navigate with the stars. The Dia found the mortals pathetic, sad, and endlessly naive as their efforts served to exoll the Dia in all ways. As a gesture of good will, the Dia raised a single mortal above the rest and imbued him with a little power from each Dia, ensuring that they were unaffected by the sacrifice, and called him the Favored. The Favored gained powers beyond what any single mortal possessed and he ruled over the mortals of the Dia.
Although the existence of the world and its creatures benefited all spirits equally, the time old tensions rose between them and the mortals shifted to accommodate. The mortals of Dia and the mortals of Nia drifted apart and territory disputes began. The spirits recognized the threat their fighting possessed and so they met away from the mortal place to discuss how to proceed. Negotiations were tense. The conclave nearly quit or came to blows but weeks later, they came to a conclusion: ritual combat.
Every 10 years, the Children of Nia and the Favored would meet on the border of the territory of Dia and Nia to act as proxies for their guiding spirits. This would allow the world to remain in one piece and slake the spirits’ instinctual need to clash with each other.
The Dia didn’t change their practice. A single mortal would be raised, granted powers beyond mortal capacity, and rule the rest. This mortal would be the Dia’s champion at the Conclave event each year until the next Favored was old enough to carry the burden.
However, the Nia had long lost their immortality. Instead, the trained their descendants in ancient techniques, melding magic with martial might. It was no secret they didn’t have the brute strength to overcome the Dia’s Favored so they learned. They studied everything they could, honed their skills day and night, and relied on each other. These families that dedicated themselves to the cause of the spirits became known as the Keepers of Nia. They swore a sacred vow to protect their communities from harm within and without. Many of the Keepers would step away from leadership roles because it clouded their ability to watch for threats impartially. Others took up the mantle eagerly and thrived.
So the world found an odd peace. Tensions between the communities faded away as the natural balance was found once again. It seemed a utopia.
Until 5000 years later, when a Favored discovered the Dia were only using the mortal race for their own gain and in his fury, massacred the Dia and absorbed the entirety of their powers. The Light consumed his mind, transforming him into an angelic beauty. His face turned to porcelain, forever twisted in the visage of his final lament, and he rose above his lands with only thoughts filled with the greed of the Dia. They fed him and his need for power extended past the lands of his people. His advisors begged him against and he branded them as heretics, killing them in the streets of their own home. The horror that he saw that day marked his entire people as traitors and he considered them worthless. Now called the Archon, he used his powers to warp his people into immortal creatures made in his own image. Twisted beauties, they became known as the Favored. Like the Archon, each face was now a porcelain mask displaying whatever last expression that had before the transformation claimed their minds.
The Archon declared war and it was brutal. Faced with the unrelenting might of Light and the unchecked fury of the Archon at the mere existence of Dark, the Keepers were soon forced to retreat. They herded as many as they could into the inner territories, setting wards and barriers to stall the Archon’s advance. They established cities with walls and gates infused with shadow, developed techniques that allowed their blades to drip darkness, and mastered guerrilla warfare and infiltration. The varied techniques of the past slowly died as the Keepers fought for survival.
Those caught outside the protected cities would soon find their minds succumbing to the light of the Archon and warping into one of its Favored. The Favored knew nothing of compassion, of mercy. They only knew of the ever growing hunger for power and conquest. To make matters worse, the Keepers discovered that the longer the war continued, the more new generations were born without the connection to the Nia. Hope was a scarce resource as 10 of the 12 cities collapsed beneath the Archon’s might and the remaining free mortals began to starve without the land to feed themselves.
Driven to desperate measures, the Keepers infiltrated the Archon’s Citadel in hopes of stumbling across any information on a critical weakness of the Archon and its Favored. Instead, they learned the nightmarish ritual the Archon used to strip the Dia of their power and start its age of unending bloodshed. They barely managed to escape with the information but the sacrifices they suffered were not in vain.
It took a century to complete the ritual. The second of the remaining free cities was battered with the renewed wrath of the Archon. Previous failures to complete the ritual cost the Keepers another life but in the end, the Keepers stripped themselves and their ancestors of their power and imbued it into one single child. Malvira Nia was raised under strict tutelage with the understanding that she was the child ever Keeper―no. Every mortal―placed their hopes in. It was stifling. A burden put on shoulders not yet strong enough to hold it. So she ran.
It would take years but watching the sister city of her own crumble beneath the Favored woke her up to the necessity of her destiny. She threw herself into her training, rallying the people behind her, and rode out to push back the Favored with her own soldiers besides her. For the first time in 5000 years, the Keepers won a battle.
The war was tough and at every corner, Malvira Nia was there to restore her soldier's resolve and defend them in battle. But as great of a leader, a general, and a soldier she was, anyone under her command would acknowledge that she was distant and cold. Most commended her dedication, even expected it, but those closest to her knew she accepted death as a certainty and they fought back against it. Those who grew up with her, her tutors, and even the few stragistest she worked closely with worked to make her open up, to accept that they could figure out a solution in which she lives because nothing in this world is ever certain.
It took the near death of someone she loved to make her change her mind. Malvira was known for risky operations that only relied on her but the soldier who would become Malvira’s life partner interfered when Malvira was close to failure, successfully turning the tide of the operation but nearly dying in the process. Mavira learned that day what she would be leaving behind if she died recklessly and her operations became less risky, more calculated. It drove her forced forward even faster. The old Keepers learned how to revert the Favored from their twisted state back to mortality and their numbers swelled.
It was a tale as old as time. The inevitable clash of Light and Dark that would put an end to this war once and for all. The Archon discovered Malvira’s love and capitalized on it, manipulating the resistance forces to sending her life partner and another small group to infiltrate what was supposedly a low risk encampment that the Archon itself would appear at moments after the group’s capture. Malvira was handling a wave of new Favored assaults when she received the news. She turned on her heel and rode into the night to face the Archon face on without a word to anyone.
The Archon’s intent was to mow Malvira down with the Favored but its pride demanded he accept the challenge she threw in its face. Their battle lasted three days and three nights. Her forces rallied to her, trying to penetrate the heart of the encampment to offer the last Keeper their support but they couldn’t keep up with the sheer numbers. Her friends, her family, her soldiers fell to the light and transformed into Favored even as she battled it’s source. Malvira’s rage and desperation built with every fallen friend.
The dawn of the fourth day broke the stalemate. The building fury finally exploded and drove her blade, dripping with Darkness, into the Archon’s heart and he crumbled to the ground, the Light fading as he did. The Favored shifted back. It was a painful, terrifying process but eventually the Favored would return to their mortal forms once more. Malvira thought she’d escaped.
But the Archon had one final curse. A spiteful curse on this land and those who defied him, the Archon uttered it with its final breath and a torrent of Light was unleashed on the world. For there to be harmony, Light and Darkness must be in balance and now that Light was let back into the world, Malvira knew the Darkness inside her was needed as well. She gave herself over to the Dark and she faded along with the Archon, the darkness pouring out of her to neutralize the Archon’s curse.
Legends: Any legends or stories about your character prior to being reincarnated.
Combat Affinities:
- Jiu jitsu
- Ninjutsu
- Judo
- Kendo
- Kyudo
- Naginata-do
Magic Affinities: Shadow Magic: Conjuring weapons, Physical augmentation (self and objects), and movement enhancement.
Extra:
- https://youtu.be/dJ-QLl5qjLg
- color code = FC38FF
Plight of the Martyr: A fractal of your past life that you carried with you. Holds your status points for combat in the future.
Stamina: 4
Strength: 4
Dexterity: 8
Intellect: 3
Faith : 1
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
Artemis Harrington and Apollo Harrington
Location: Knight Bus: Middle Back -> Carriage 2
Magic: Legilimency, Charms
Apollo rolled his eyes at Tonks as she cheered on for the Knight Bus. It wasn't so much that he didn't enjoy the excitement, rather that so much had already happened just moments before that he was unable to understand how anyone could possibly be cheering at a time like this. As the bus continued to rock and sway, tossing its patrons to and fro, Apollo remained seated and clinging for dear life. He could hear the hisses of pain coming from his twin further down the bus, though it was much more difficult to see as everyone was flailing about.
If he wasn’t hurt and upset, this would be right up Arty’s alley. It was like a rollercoaster but way more dangerous and he could totally get behind that. But right now for the first and probably last time in his life, he’d wished they just waited. The bus ride wasn’t getting any easier with the constant stretching and swerving, the little joints resonating in his broken wrist drawing out a hiss of pain every time. Though, he whimpered as the last lurch slammed his wrist into the side of his chair and he doubled over around the wrist, rocking in the seat as he bit down on his lip to keep from crying. Everything got loud after that, so many different snatches of conversation swimming around him and it felt like he was suffocating.
As soon as the bus halted Apollo removed his wand from where he had stashed it and flourished it towards his feet. "Finite Incantatem" A brilliant blueish white light shown from the wand and then faded as he tried to move his ankles and then his feet. Chuffed that it had worked he doubled over on the spell, casting it behind him as he made his way over towards his twin brother in rather a hurry. "Bloody hell what happened to you? You alright mate?" He was now kneeling before Artemis, wand hand on his shoulder, the other outstretched asking to see his injured limb.
Arty barely registered people moving around, overwhelmed by the noise of the bus and the background noise in his head. He looked up at his brother and opened his mouth, trying to get words out that felt like molasses in his throat, but nothing came out. He offered his wrist out gingerly, the broken wrist discolored and lumpy. Arty just shrugged helplessly.
Apollo sucked in air through clenched teeth as he looked at Arties wrist. It definitely didn't look good, and unfortunately healing wasn't one of his main academic focuses. "Its probably best we let Madame Pomfrey take a look at this. Until then I can offer a splint to help ease the pain and keep it straight. Ferula" He removed his wand arm from Artemis's shoulder and pointed his wand at his wrist. Banadages began to conjure out the tip as the wrapped around the wound and tightened. Two wooden beams placed above and below the injury to keep it safe and straightened until a professional could look at it. "How's that?"
Arty watched with apprehension as his twin conjured a splint. He braced himself for the pain, hissing reflexively as the bandages wound themselves around the break and the wooden beams. It hurt, nothing could stop that, but it felt better than it did before. Arty gave a little sigh of relief and gave his brother a weak smile. He looked around for Mary with a frown.
Apollo followed his brother’s gaze, glancing around only to notice that both Mary and Georgina were missing, all the while Madalyne was missing a tooth. He shrugged and wrapped his arm underneath Artie’s, using himself to support his brother’s weight and lift them both up. "You know prefects, jumping towards the orders of a House Head before the drop of a sickle. Best we get ourselves going too, wouldn't want to keep Dumbledoor waiting of all people."
Arty nodded, letting his brother support his weight as he stood. The voices in his head were growing louder, almost painfully so, and he clung harder to Apollo as they walked out of the Knight Bus. There were just so many voices, so many people, so many things going on, it was so much. Too much! He knew he should be doing better; he was a prefect just like Mary so he should be hopping to it too but he couldn’t focus past the sound in his head. He shut his eyes as he tried to focus, trusting Apollo to keep him stable.
It wasn’t difficult to understand what was happening here. Apollo had been through these fits himself and the damage caused by both the Knight Bus and the attack on the Hogwarts Express was clearly stress enough to allow their Legilimency classes to slip. There wasn't much Apollo could do except to take his brother out of the bus as quickly as possible and to a less dense area. "Make way Make Way! Got a prefect that got banged up real good here! Move aside the lot of you." He hurried his way through the students, taking them down to the lower decks where he spotted Georgina.
He wasn't quite sure what was said or done to have her sitting alone in the bus, but all he could do was offer her an apologetic smile as he nodded towards Arties wrist and continued on his way out. "Alright make way people! Banged up prefect coming through! Thanks!" Once they were outside he noticed McGonagall standing there, her firm face plastered as usual behind her glasses. "Sorry it took a bit madame, Artie here seems to of broken his wrist something fowl, perhaps you could take a look at it before we head off?"
McGonagall’s stern face softened. “Of course, Mr. Harrington.” She pulled out her wand and whispered an incantation as she tapped Artemis’ wrist, a plaster cast appearing to keep it from being injured further. “After speaking with the Headmaster, Madam Pomfrey will mend his wrist.”
Arty was so focused on trying to keep the voices in his head from getting louder, he startled when the plaster cast appeared around his wrist. He jerked back instinctively but after some inspection, nodded at the Professor’s instructions and mustered up a smile as best he could with everything pressing inside his head.
"Thank you again. C'mon Artie let's get in the carriage." He offered her a warm smile as he made his was towards the first carriage when he heard Mary tell them Paige had gone into that one."Blimey, thanks Mary. That would've been a long ride for sure. Though I can't say I ever really know what the headmasters thinking." With that the twins entered into the second carriage, guiding Artie into a corner furthest from the door.
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
A R T E M I S H A R R I N G T O N
D O S S I E R
Name: Artemis Harrington
Aliases: Artie
Age: 15
Birthday: November 25th, 1968
Birth Place: Kingston, England
Gender: Male
Blood Status: Muggle Born (Muggles)
House / Year: Hufflepuff/ Fifth Year
Alignment: Neutral Good
Wand: Laurel, Dragon Heartstring (sibling core to Apollo's'), 14 1/2", Whippy Flexibility
A P P E A R A N C E
Height: 170.1 cm
Weight: 59.88 kg
Build: Lean
Eyes: Green
Hair: Dirty Blond
Skin Tone: Tan
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: During his last holiday, Artie recently begged his parents into letting him get his right ear pierced and wears a little bell earring when he isn’t in uniform.
Typical Outfit: While in uniform, he dresses like a model student. Not a crease in the wrong place and his tie done up properly, a struggle when he first started. His hair stays up in a tight bun and he uses a simple charm every morning to take off Nonna’s hair that gets everywhere. His prefect badge is always kept on display, just so his first years know where they can find help.
Despite his silly and carefree behavior, Artie dresses in sensible clothing outside of uniform: button ups and polos with jeans and boots. He prefers vibrant and bright colors, greens and yellows and pinks, over the dark ones of his birth season and enjoys clashing rather than complementary colors. He rarely dresses that way, only when his parents aren’t there to lecture him on the importance of appearance. He loves accessories, rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and his small collection is in absurdly bright colors.
P S Y C H O L O G Y
Excitable ◇ Dependant ◇ Dedicated ◇ Insecure ◇ Doting ◇ Gullible
Artie is known for dancing to his own tune, literally. Staying still has never been his forte and this bubbling energy extends out into all parts of his life. There is always a good side to things and focusing on those makes the world’s troubles fade away, instead preferring to move from one good thing to the next. He loves group gatherings and flitting his way around a room just to meet new people. Artie’s first concern is everyone around him, making sure they are taken care of and enjoying themselves.
However, leaving Artie alone too long is a dangerous thing indeed. His excitable ways hide his own demons: frustrations at the unachievable academic expectations of his parents, the need for constant validation from anyone, and the demand for casual physical affection sometimes drives even the most understanding away. When he feels isolated or left out, he tends to latch onto anything that shows him the smallest amount of appreciation and proceeds to drain it, sometimes forgetting that doing so exhausts the person in question.
Sexuality: Pansexual
Relationship Status: Single
Fatal Flaw: Dependency
Hobbies: Cooking, Dancing, Swimming
Patronus: Golden Retriever
Animagus: Golden Retriever (If he becomes one)
Amortentia: Strawberries and cream puffs and a salt sweet breeze
Mirror of Erised: His parents more proud of him than his brother.
Boggart: His mother, exasperated and on the phone.
Dementor: The car crash, his mother’s thought, his inability to speak, and Apollo’s sensory overloads.
M A G I C a n d K E E P S A K E S
Core Classes:
- Astronomy - 2
- Charms - 5
- Defense Against the Dark Arts - 5
- Herbology - 3
- History of Magic - 2
- Potions - 4
- Transfiguration - 3
Electives:
- Muggle Studies - 4
- Care of Magical Creatures - 3
Talents:
- Patronus
- Cooking
- Legilimency
Possessions:
- Wand
- Bag with school supplies (books, quills, ink, parchment)
- Small pouch full of muggle candies (usually butterscotch)
Dormitory:
- Pet - Nonnie the Munchkin Cat
- Broomstick - Cleansweep Three
- Trunk of clothes
- Jewelry box of accessories, including his favorite bell earring
- Additional school supplies
- Moving picture of the family from their first time at Diagon Alley.
- Secret stash of muggle candy
H I S T O R Y
How did you come into your magic:
The twins displayed their natural talent for mind reading almost from birth. They’ve lived longer in each other’s head than out and that ability quickly developed into reading other’s minds. Their speech development suffered for it; while their language comprehension developed at a rapid pace, being able to communicate instantly between each other slowed their interest in speaking. It wasn’t until just before the twin’s fifth birthday that they began to speak.
However, events that were more difficult to explain occured as well. Artie’s mother hit the wrong pedal and shot their car into the middle of an intersection, causing a truck to slam into the small car and sent it toppling. Artie’s distress caused his magic to trigger and the car slowed almost immediately, the debris dropping as it mimicked the arresto momentum spell.
General History:
As early as the twins could remember, separation was a forign concept. The twin sons of James Harrington and Olivia Harrington, the boys grew up in a world full of myth and magic of the muggle variety. Olivia Harrington, maiden name Evans, was a well known archaeologist, assisting Barry Cunliffe in his excavation of the Roman Villa, the Fishbourne Palace, in west Sussex and assisting the University of Jerusalem's Yohanan Aharoni in excavating Cave no. 8 (Cave of Horrors), that worked out of King’s College in junction with the British Museum on several Greek history exhibits.
James Harrington grew up in a family of historians. Like his mother, he inherited a deep seated curiosity and a sense of adventure. His father developed a focused mind and the fiery determination that drove him through his school years, despite a variety of financial and emotional setbacks, and resulted in him graduating from Oxford University with his Doctorates in Greek history. He caught a full time position at the British museum as a museum curator and would eventually ascend to director while continuing as a part time lecturer at Oxford.
An event at the British Museum brought them together, a showcase of the many artifacts that British explorers have brought back from their travels. The pair collaborated on the Greek section, working long hours with little time for other social interaction, but like they often said, it was a match made in heaven. The pair quickly fell in love, their busy schedules complementing each other well, and married a few years later. When they discovered they had twins, one boy and one girl, they decided on their names immediately: Apollo and Artemis. They painted blue wolves and dolphins and pink dancing bears, an homage to the source of their names and a blend of modern and ancient imagery.
Only to be wrong. In a surprise twist, both babies came out male. The first one, named Apollo, was born fifteen minutes before his brother and the parents kept the name, pacified by a nurse who assured them it sounded unisex enough. The tired but ecstatic pair returned home when Olivia was released, only to realize they needed to make some adjustments. The clothes and toys were returned and replaced but the nursery stayed the same. Painting was a chore neither parent wanted to go through again so soon.
The twins were inseparable, going everywhere together. Their speech facilities developed much slower than expected, to the bafflement of most doctors. They could comprehend as well as any child their age, possible even better, but they seemed reluctant to put those ideas into words and when they did speak, it was almost incomprehensible until 4 years old when they made sudden leaps and bounds past the standard development. It pleasantly baffled their parents and the pair set out on catching up the twins on an appropriate level of education.
The reason was, in fact, the pair displayed magic incredibly early. The twins were both Legilimens, wizards with an instinctive knack for the Legilimency spell. The pair practically lived in each other’s heads which removed the primary motivation to communicate verbally, negatively impacting their early speech development. It wasn’t until they realized not everyone could hear others thoughts that they stepped out of their heads, partially, and interacted with their peers.
They were still mostly silent at home and until the age of seven, the pair struggled to differentiate between the ‘inside voices’ and normal voices. Even once they did, it still wasn’t unusual for them to babble in response to an unwitting stranger’s thoughts. Their parents chalked their impromptu conversations to imaginary friends and encouraged their active imaginations. It was that trait that first drove both their parents into Greek History and it made them proud that their children also displayed it. But as time went on and the conversations turned darker and the twin’s supper questions more uncomfortable, the Harrington’s had to admit that possibly their children were a tad touched.
Their parent’s opinion took second place during the summer of of their eight year, when Apollo caught the flu and Olivia went to pick up his medicine, bringing Artemis along with her after he whined his way under her skin. He’d been bouncy all day, after the first few days of fretting over his quiet brother and being assured he would be okay with medicine, and it didn’t stop in the car. He talked about everything they passed, peppering the stressed woman with a million questions and the second she turned to snap at him, it happened. A truck collided with the passenger side of the car as she accidentally drove into an intersection after tapping on the gas. The force of it rolled the car twice before it suddenly stopped upright. Olivia was sliced with glass and metal. Artemis made it out with nearly no damage, his magic instinctively replicatiing the Slowing Charm on everything around him. And while the child made it out with only a few cuts, Artie still has nightmares to this day about the incident.
After the accident, Artemis regressed to the silence he maintained when the twins were younger and Apollo took the role of the pair’s mouth. Guilt wormed its way through him, eating Artemis alive as he blamed himself for the accident after overhearing a short lived thought that if only he’d been less annoying. Of course, the thought was dismissed as quickly as it came as completely unreasonable, his mother couldn’t shift the blame on him when it was her fault for taking her eyes off the road anyways, but the damage was done. Artemis sunk into his depression, barely sleeping through the night and avoiding other people as much as possible.
Apollo struggled then as well. Apollo often got overloaded with voices, struggling to keep himself out of other’s thoughts, and when Artemis started having nightmares and crushing guilt, it was a snapping point. He frequently stopped in the middle of public areas and crouched, covering his ears and trembling until it stopped. Or he could become irritable and confrontational, devolving into temper tantrums when everything became too much. Olivia and James had little option but to have a doctor see them, entering family therapy on a recommendation.
It was a rough climb back to some semblance of normalcy but family therapy helped. The therapist, although a muggle, their therapist picked up on the twin’s “highly empathetic natures”, noting that Artemis felt the accident was his fault and that Apollo was anxious about the growing rift in his family. Olivia and James were horrified to hear this but it was the largest step the family managed and with the help of carefully controlled medications, the pair managed to smile again and feel comfortable in their own home. Their grades and friends returned and life seemed to go on with the occasional episode.
And then the ministry official appeared, Hogwarts letters in hand. The twins accepted it in about five seconds flat, a barrage of questions that had the man wide eyed. But he could also explain that the conversations the twins had, the voices they spoke to, and the things they did were all very real. Their parents, still dealing with the aftermath of the crash, kept their thoughts well in order despite the initial discomfort of knowing their thoughts were not as hidden as they’d assumed. Apollo and Artemis could barely contain themselves, the younger one dancing around the house ecstatically as he screamed at the top of his lungs and Apollo gaped at the man and then promptly fainted.
Diagon Alley was an entirely different experience. Artemis got separated from the family no less than four times as he darted from shop to shop and returning to demand of the ministry man, a very helpful Mr. Hopkinson who Artie still writes once a month, explanations for every little thing that caught his eye. Which boiled down to… everything. His parents and brother seemed mildly concerned about knuts, sickles, and galleons. Why they were discussing plumbing stuff and ships he wasn’t sure; Artie was too busy begging and crying for the most adorable cat he’d ever seen. He won that fight but sadly lost the color changing robes. His new cat, Nonnie, comforted him through that trying time. Discovering his wand wiped the memory of his lost robes and he couldn’t help waving it around until Mr. Hopkinson finally made him put it away.
The train ride to Hogwarts was a trying time for his soon to be classmates. Artemis could hear the exasperation other students had when he would bounce around the train every few minutes, eagerly greeting everyone and everything, talking a mile a minute to the trolley lady, and to anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. The normal weight that built through the day from all the oppressive thoughts couldn’t even knock his mood. Once his brother made him sit down, he was more than happy to continue chatting the ear of the nice girl in the car with them.
He felt his world shatter around him that same night. The sorting ceremony, one of the most exciting things about the whole days, separated the twins. It was the first time they’d have been significantly apart without a clear time they’d be together in the future. Artie wasn’t sure if he screamed out loud but he definitely did internally as he sat shell-shocked at the Hufflepuff table, on the verge of sobbing. All through his first year, his depression flared again, he struggled to voice his thoughts and opinions unless his sibling was around, and he clung to Apollo harder than he ever had, going so far to skip some classes to hide when everything just got overwhelming.
The end of the first year brought some progress, though it was absolutely obliterated when he got home and his parents were overjoyed with Apollo. Artemis was found… lacking. They acted empathetic but the thoughts. Again, they were just initial reactions. The tinge of disappointment when their son couldn’t meet their academic standards, the flare of irritation at Artemis’ waterfall of disappointment. All gone and replaced with the logical conclusion that he needed a longer adjustment period but the damage had been done. He couldn’t wait to get away again.
The second year made it better. Apollo’s research over the summer unearthed the Patronus charm and after many, many late night talks with both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff heads, and an equal number of tears from Artemis, they learned the Patronus charm in order to send a piece of themselves to each other when the separation weighed too heavily on them. Learning the Patronus was a point of pride for Artie and it gave him a much needed sense of accomplishment to instill a sense of care in his work. His grades in the fun classes, Charms, Defense against the Dark Arts, and Potions, rose almost overnight but the not so fun classes dragged brutally. History of Magic, dramatic sigh. Astronomy, who cares. Herbology, a necessary evil. Thank goodness for his sibling.
Returning to school the next year was even better than the last. Celebrations went on as news of Voldemort’s defeat was carried across Great Britain and the world was a better place for it. Those who supported him were on the outs, his ideals and views unpopular, and another one of Artie’s problems fell away. Though, not all survived the dark, friend and foe alike, and a certain solemnity fell across the campus. Although he didn’t lose anyone himself, he could empathize with the pain of an unexpected separation and he made it his goal to help others through it. He recruited his brother and those who were willing in making a bit life a little more merry that year so at least for a while the seriousness of life didn’t make school room corners quite as dark.
The third and fourth years found Artie growing more into his magic and his confidence in his place in the wizarding world. His love for his favorite classes grew, his dislike for his others grew too, and his days of rolling out of bed disappeared. He put himself together, took pride in how he presented himself, cared more about his grades and put serious effort into even the ones he loathed, and actively made sure other like him and his brother, muggle born, were taught the ropes and given the same opportunities as those born into the magical community.
Artie assumed that was what earned him his prefect position. Though honestly, he didn’t really question it. It marked a tangible milestone in his growth as a wizard and a person and, as a grown and mature teenager, ran around the house screaming at the top of his lungs. It satisfied a jealousy that had been building inside him, a ugly feeling aimed at his brother for always being more successful and smarter than he. Artie was the prefect, not Apollo. For once, someone acknowledge he was more than just a fun kid, a joker, the accompaniment. But he shook that line of thought form himself, ashamed that he felt that way since he knew Apollo never thought of him like that. So he pushed it aside and got ready for a new, exciting year like always. Nothing could go wrong now.
James Harrington grew up in a family of historians. Like his mother, he inherited a deep seated curiosity and a sense of adventure. His father developed a focused mind and the fiery determination that drove him through his school years, despite a variety of financial and emotional setbacks, and resulted in him graduating from Oxford University with his Doctorates in Greek history. He caught a full time position at the British museum as a museum curator and would eventually ascend to director while continuing as a part time lecturer at Oxford.
An event at the British Museum brought them together, a showcase of the many artifacts that British explorers have brought back from their travels. The pair collaborated on the Greek section, working long hours with little time for other social interaction, but like they often said, it was a match made in heaven. The pair quickly fell in love, their busy schedules complementing each other well, and married a few years later. When they discovered they had twins, one boy and one girl, they decided on their names immediately: Apollo and Artemis. They painted blue wolves and dolphins and pink dancing bears, an homage to the source of their names and a blend of modern and ancient imagery.
Only to be wrong. In a surprise twist, both babies came out male. The first one, named Apollo, was born fifteen minutes before his brother and the parents kept the name, pacified by a nurse who assured them it sounded unisex enough. The tired but ecstatic pair returned home when Olivia was released, only to realize they needed to make some adjustments. The clothes and toys were returned and replaced but the nursery stayed the same. Painting was a chore neither parent wanted to go through again so soon.
The twins were inseparable, going everywhere together. Their speech facilities developed much slower than expected, to the bafflement of most doctors. They could comprehend as well as any child their age, possible even better, but they seemed reluctant to put those ideas into words and when they did speak, it was almost incomprehensible until 4 years old when they made sudden leaps and bounds past the standard development. It pleasantly baffled their parents and the pair set out on catching up the twins on an appropriate level of education.
The reason was, in fact, the pair displayed magic incredibly early. The twins were both Legilimens, wizards with an instinctive knack for the Legilimency spell. The pair practically lived in each other’s heads which removed the primary motivation to communicate verbally, negatively impacting their early speech development. It wasn’t until they realized not everyone could hear others thoughts that they stepped out of their heads, partially, and interacted with their peers.
They were still mostly silent at home and until the age of seven, the pair struggled to differentiate between the ‘inside voices’ and normal voices. Even once they did, it still wasn’t unusual for them to babble in response to an unwitting stranger’s thoughts. Their parents chalked their impromptu conversations to imaginary friends and encouraged their active imaginations. It was that trait that first drove both their parents into Greek History and it made them proud that their children also displayed it. But as time went on and the conversations turned darker and the twin’s supper questions more uncomfortable, the Harrington’s had to admit that possibly their children were a tad touched.
Their parent’s opinion took second place during the summer of of their eight year, when Apollo caught the flu and Olivia went to pick up his medicine, bringing Artemis along with her after he whined his way under her skin. He’d been bouncy all day, after the first few days of fretting over his quiet brother and being assured he would be okay with medicine, and it didn’t stop in the car. He talked about everything they passed, peppering the stressed woman with a million questions and the second she turned to snap at him, it happened. A truck collided with the passenger side of the car as she accidentally drove into an intersection after tapping on the gas. The force of it rolled the car twice before it suddenly stopped upright. Olivia was sliced with glass and metal. Artemis made it out with nearly no damage, his magic instinctively replicatiing the Slowing Charm on everything around him. And while the child made it out with only a few cuts, Artie still has nightmares to this day about the incident.
After the accident, Artemis regressed to the silence he maintained when the twins were younger and Apollo took the role of the pair’s mouth. Guilt wormed its way through him, eating Artemis alive as he blamed himself for the accident after overhearing a short lived thought that if only he’d been less annoying. Of course, the thought was dismissed as quickly as it came as completely unreasonable, his mother couldn’t shift the blame on him when it was her fault for taking her eyes off the road anyways, but the damage was done. Artemis sunk into his depression, barely sleeping through the night and avoiding other people as much as possible.
Apollo struggled then as well. Apollo often got overloaded with voices, struggling to keep himself out of other’s thoughts, and when Artemis started having nightmares and crushing guilt, it was a snapping point. He frequently stopped in the middle of public areas and crouched, covering his ears and trembling until it stopped. Or he could become irritable and confrontational, devolving into temper tantrums when everything became too much. Olivia and James had little option but to have a doctor see them, entering family therapy on a recommendation.
It was a rough climb back to some semblance of normalcy but family therapy helped. The therapist, although a muggle, their therapist picked up on the twin’s “highly empathetic natures”, noting that Artemis felt the accident was his fault and that Apollo was anxious about the growing rift in his family. Olivia and James were horrified to hear this but it was the largest step the family managed and with the help of carefully controlled medications, the pair managed to smile again and feel comfortable in their own home. Their grades and friends returned and life seemed to go on with the occasional episode.
And then the ministry official appeared, Hogwarts letters in hand. The twins accepted it in about five seconds flat, a barrage of questions that had the man wide eyed. But he could also explain that the conversations the twins had, the voices they spoke to, and the things they did were all very real. Their parents, still dealing with the aftermath of the crash, kept their thoughts well in order despite the initial discomfort of knowing their thoughts were not as hidden as they’d assumed. Apollo and Artemis could barely contain themselves, the younger one dancing around the house ecstatically as he screamed at the top of his lungs and Apollo gaped at the man and then promptly fainted.
Diagon Alley was an entirely different experience. Artemis got separated from the family no less than four times as he darted from shop to shop and returning to demand of the ministry man, a very helpful Mr. Hopkinson who Artie still writes once a month, explanations for every little thing that caught his eye. Which boiled down to… everything. His parents and brother seemed mildly concerned about knuts, sickles, and galleons. Why they were discussing plumbing stuff and ships he wasn’t sure; Artie was too busy begging and crying for the most adorable cat he’d ever seen. He won that fight but sadly lost the color changing robes. His new cat, Nonnie, comforted him through that trying time. Discovering his wand wiped the memory of his lost robes and he couldn’t help waving it around until Mr. Hopkinson finally made him put it away.
The train ride to Hogwarts was a trying time for his soon to be classmates. Artemis could hear the exasperation other students had when he would bounce around the train every few minutes, eagerly greeting everyone and everything, talking a mile a minute to the trolley lady, and to anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. The normal weight that built through the day from all the oppressive thoughts couldn’t even knock his mood. Once his brother made him sit down, he was more than happy to continue chatting the ear of the nice girl in the car with them.
He felt his world shatter around him that same night. The sorting ceremony, one of the most exciting things about the whole days, separated the twins. It was the first time they’d have been significantly apart without a clear time they’d be together in the future. Artie wasn’t sure if he screamed out loud but he definitely did internally as he sat shell-shocked at the Hufflepuff table, on the verge of sobbing. All through his first year, his depression flared again, he struggled to voice his thoughts and opinions unless his sibling was around, and he clung to Apollo harder than he ever had, going so far to skip some classes to hide when everything just got overwhelming.
The end of the first year brought some progress, though it was absolutely obliterated when he got home and his parents were overjoyed with Apollo. Artemis was found… lacking. They acted empathetic but the thoughts. Again, they were just initial reactions. The tinge of disappointment when their son couldn’t meet their academic standards, the flare of irritation at Artemis’ waterfall of disappointment. All gone and replaced with the logical conclusion that he needed a longer adjustment period but the damage had been done. He couldn’t wait to get away again.
The second year made it better. Apollo’s research over the summer unearthed the Patronus charm and after many, many late night talks with both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff heads, and an equal number of tears from Artemis, they learned the Patronus charm in order to send a piece of themselves to each other when the separation weighed too heavily on them. Learning the Patronus was a point of pride for Artie and it gave him a much needed sense of accomplishment to instill a sense of care in his work. His grades in the fun classes, Charms, Defense against the Dark Arts, and Potions, rose almost overnight but the not so fun classes dragged brutally. History of Magic, dramatic sigh. Astronomy, who cares. Herbology, a necessary evil. Thank goodness for his sibling.
Returning to school the next year was even better than the last. Celebrations went on as news of Voldemort’s defeat was carried across Great Britain and the world was a better place for it. Those who supported him were on the outs, his ideals and views unpopular, and another one of Artie’s problems fell away. Though, not all survived the dark, friend and foe alike, and a certain solemnity fell across the campus. Although he didn’t lose anyone himself, he could empathize with the pain of an unexpected separation and he made it his goal to help others through it. He recruited his brother and those who were willing in making a bit life a little more merry that year so at least for a while the seriousness of life didn’t make school room corners quite as dark.
The third and fourth years found Artie growing more into his magic and his confidence in his place in the wizarding world. His love for his favorite classes grew, his dislike for his others grew too, and his days of rolling out of bed disappeared. He put himself together, took pride in how he presented himself, cared more about his grades and put serious effort into even the ones he loathed, and actively made sure other like him and his brother, muggle born, were taught the ropes and given the same opportunities as those born into the magical community.
Artie assumed that was what earned him his prefect position. Though honestly, he didn’t really question it. It marked a tangible milestone in his growth as a wizard and a person and, as a grown and mature teenager, ran around the house screaming at the top of his lungs. It satisfied a jealousy that had been building inside him, a ugly feeling aimed at his brother for always being more successful and smarter than he. Artie was the prefect, not Apollo. For once, someone acknowledge he was more than just a fun kid, a joker, the accompaniment. But he shook that line of thought form himself, ashamed that he felt that way since he knew Apollo never thought of him like that. So he pushed it aside and got ready for a new, exciting year like always. Nothing could go wrong now.
E X T R A S
Character Quote: “Don’t make enemies, invest in friendships!”
Theme Song: Ain’t No Mountain High Enough
Anything Else: Final Fantasy Post, Hufflepuf!
*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy. I acknowledge that I can and will be removed from the RP without warning if I break a rule or cause problems with my fellow Rpers or the GM.
R E L A T I O N S
A R T I M E S H A R R I N G T O N
"Don't make enemies, invest in friendships!"
⟢ 🎆Respects ⟡ 🌓Neutral ⟡ 👋Acquaintance ⟡ 🙇It's Complicated ⟣
⟢ ⭐Likes ⟢ 💛Friend ⟡ 💙Good Friends ⟡ 💜Best Friends ⟡ ❣️Ex-Friends ⟡ 😈Frienemy ⟣
⟢ 💘Infatuation ⟡ 💓Loves ⟡ 💗Couple ⟡ 💕Basically Family ⟡ 💞Family ⟡ 💔Ex-Lovers ⟣
⟢ ♨️Tense ⟡ 💀Dislikes ⟡ 😡Hates ⟡ 👿Enemy ⟡ 👹Absolutely Loathes ⟣
Hufflepuff
💜 Georgina Locke 💜
"Wicked smart and superbad? What did I do to get the slickest best friend in Hogwarts?"
- Met in First Year when Arty was seriously struggling with the separation.
- Grew closer in the second year and Arty basically decided they were besties.
- Loves getting to write her letters during the break months and drops muggle candy treats in her bag.
💛 Penny Haywood 💛
"Being a prefect with the second radest Hufflepuff in school? Totally chuffed! "
- Enjoys practicing potions with her.
- Loves her kind nature.
- Was his role model in third year.
Ravenclaw
💞 Apollo Harrington 💞
"The slickest twin on this side of the pond!"
- The Twin
- The best Twin!
- Secretly terrified Apollo is going to leave him behind.
💙 Mary Winthrop 💙
"The girl with the schweetest moves in all the school!"
- Dancing mates!
- Started off friends with Apollo but they came together with their own friendship.
- Or leave this blank if there is nothing you want to put!
🌓 Zelda Flynn 🌓
"She definately exists! I know the rest of the group has some issues with her but I haven't seen anything that bad?"
Slytherin
💀 Paige Atwell 💀
"Honestly if she wasn't a total wazzok, I think she'd be pretty tight."
- His opinion of her is heavily colored by the friends group.
- Her Death eater family, considering his own blood status, makes him incredible nervous around her.
👹👿 Merula Snyde 👿👹
"A bloody tosser who needs a good kick in the can."
- Actively avoids at almost any cost.
- One of the first bullies who realized Arty was vulnerable without his twin.
- Will fight if she goes after Apollo or Georgina.
💀 Barnaby Lee 💀
"Look, I'm not sayin' he's starkers but poor chap needs a therapist more than me."
- Still hasn't forgiven him for supporting his worst nightmare: Merula.
- Avoids because he does't want to go back in is head!
💛 Elizabeth Flame 💛
"She's pretty chill. Not a blood purist tosser like the rest of her house!"
- Isn't as nervous around her because she's also a muggleborn.
Gryffindor
💛 Madalyn Crane 💛
"Oh she is totally rad! Like, brains and brawn all wrapped up in one!"
- Arty knocked over her chess board in second year.
- Has a great time with her sense of humor
👋 Fae Mintfree 👋
"She's chill when we cross paths. Not much more to say, I guess."
- Met in third year.
- Meet up at social events but otherwise don't hang out much.
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
The doors slammed open and Ryner bit back her smile as the furious Sinnenodel came marching through. She’d come to recognize the unique flourishes associated with his current emotions. Door swings open calmly? He was here for a social visit. Door opened slowly for the first two inches then quickly the rest of the way? He was here to gloat. He was already through the door before it crashed into the wall? He was murderous.
The last one was her favorite.
“Look at that. My mages have finally adjusted to your childish behavior.” Ryner said as her secretary bowed and closed the door quietly. The first few times, they looked like they were on the verge of a panic attack. Now they just waved him through. It was probably more surprising that he had an appointment rather than just showing up. “So Count Sinnenodel, what can I help you with?”
“What can I help you with?” Varis repeated mockingly as he all but collapsed into a chair. Varis was tired. He’d stayed up trying to figure out where everything went wrong with Eris. Varis may have had the tiny, teeniest inkling Eris thought that maybe there could be more but Varis was never secretive about his stance on affections. The very concept left a distinctly bad taste in his mouth. Those emotions were fleeting and weak and would eventually collapse under the march of time. While they were fresh and fond, they were ammunition. Another point for enemies and tentative allies to drag you around with. Eris was an idiot for making it personal and the fact that Varis lost sleep over it was absurd.
And then of course, the idiot golden boy and his incessant demand for direction did little to soothe his irritation. Varis eventually gave in and sent him scuttling for a while just so he wouldn’t have to see the boy for a while. It irked the Sinnenodel―the boy’s performance certainly did not warrant any free time―but sometimes he had to consider his own mental health instead of the boy’s lack thereof. “Oh I don’t know, Princess. Maybe you could stop interfering with my personal agenda. What in the Queen’s name were you thinking?” Varis demanded, accompanied with a half hearted glare.
“Well, right now I think you skipped your morning routine. Unfortunately.” The words came out dryly as she returned to the folders in front of her. “I’ll need something more specific. I interfere with everyone’s personal agendas. It is quite literally my least favorite part of being next in line for the throne.” Varis scoffed and Ryner bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“Please, you love every second of it. You have an entire realm of subjects to choose from so why are you antagonizing me? Making Eris think I’m replacing him with a vampire dead 500 years ago? It wasn’t even subtle, Ryner.” Varis complained. “At least if you’re going to threaten my plans, please make it interesting. This is just annoying. I’ve never had to earn someone’s approval without resorting to underhand means and I wasn’t interested in trying now.”
“I knew nothing would come of it, Varis. I threatened your little pet in our meeting together and he nearly challenged me to a duel. I’m tempted to take him up on the challenge he did offer though. It’d be fun seeing how long he could handle me at my worst.” Ryner mused, laughing at Varis’ murderous look and waving it away. “Calm down, I’m just having a little fun. Court’s been surprisingly civil, my sister isn’t around to antagonize, and the Practical was a roaring success. I think I deserve to enjoy my night.”
Varis stared, dumbfounded, at Ryner. Could he understand sabotage for the sake of a reaction in stressful times? Of course. Every vampire indulged a little, even those inane Marivaldis couldn’t resist. Sometimes Varis would bring it up in casual conversation with whoever he backstabbed just to relieve the thrill. No. He was far too accustomed to working with Ryner for that to bother him. What stunned him was she genuinely believed the Practical was a roaring success. He leaned forward, closed the file she had opened, and stared at her straight in the eye for almost a full minute.
“My apologies, Princess, but I believe I misheard you.” Varis’ voice climbed an octave as he chuckled. “You claim that a noble stumbling around in the forest blind with a bumbling idiot who lacks all concepts of propriety is a success? You claim a noble digging around in the dirt a success? You claim sowing seeds of discord in your ally’s plans a success? You claim setting me on fire a success?” Varis screeched indignantly, the chair toppling over as he launched himself up, finger jabbing accusingly in Ryner’s face.
“Your little practical was an utter failure! I haven’t seen a worse excuse for a test in my life and I’ve suffered Eve classrooms.” Ryner winced at his complaining, rubbing her ear even though the amusement never left her eyes. “Where do you get off?!”
“Generally the bedroom.” Ryner replied without missing a beat, flipping the folder open Varis so rudely closed. His own name was printed at the top. “Normally, I commend you on your control over a conversation but when you’re upset, you devolve into a pattern. Makes it easy to figure out which buttons to press. I really should teach Aaron. Or make an offhand comment to Ella and her sisters. One of them will tell him.” She turned the folder and pushed it towards him. Varis flinched away from it like he was burned, rubbing absently at his ear.
“It was all scripted, Varis. I had a mage write it and I approved it. If I threw anything you could reason your way through, it wouldn’t have been much of a challenge. So I made it illogical. Aaron would never lift a finger to you, you had nothing to do with Ralmevik, Yvaine is the name of a legendary figure the mage once read about in a collection of poems, and the scene was nothing more than a silly creation meant to oppose everything you knew and believed in.” Ryner explained as Varis stared at the folder uneasily. It was a simple enough explanation and it made sense. He was in a sour mood already, on edge and frustrated, and what better way to keep him off balance than throw what he least expected at him? He went in expecting some sort of reason to the madness but there wasn’t any because the madness was the reason. It tied it all up in a pretty little present, bow and all.
So why didn’t it sit very well with him?
“But you aren’t really upset about the fire, are you?” Ryner brought him out of his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes at her sly look. “Maybe you were at the time but you’ve had time to process. You know Aaron would never raise a hand against you and even if he did, we are far more equipped to handle it than you were there. So if that’s the case, why was that the last one? Not the blindness, not the disorientation, not the public humiliation, which honestly I expected to be the focal point of this discussion, but it was the challenge. Why the challenge?”
“Because it was awful, that’s why.” Varis sputtered angrily, eyes darkening and fangs flashing at the Princess, which only made her grin more.
“Varis Sinnenodel, board member of the largest green energy company in the realm, the youngest heir to the Sinnendel Lordship ever, protector of the 3rd oldest Sinnenodel bloodline, biggest bookworm I’ve ever met and the greatest thorn in my side…” Ryner looked like a cat who got the cream, like Varis had handed her the greatest gift she’d even had in the past 7 centuries. “Is that fear I see? I’ve only ever seen that look once. I’m honored. I inspired fear in someone who I honestly believed couldn’t feel it for anyone other than Sybil Sinnenodel. You don’t even fear my mother.” Varis’ jaw clenched and Ryner giggled.
“Stop being a drama queen and sit down. Pick up my chair while you’re at it. Ryner rolled her eyes. “No, we didn’t see inside your, or anyone else’s for that matter, mind. It was simply a complex illusion that includes turning you invisible and intangible. Don’t worry, your century worth of family trauma keeps us out. No one wants to see all your daddy issues.”
Varis moved stiffly as he complied. He could see she wasn’t taking him seriously and it rankled. He didn’t understand why she was doing it though; she wasn’t stupid enough to think he wouldn’t see the side steps, the deflections, the misdirection so why was she making it so obvious? It didn’t make sense. She was more than capable of obfuscating her goals so unless she didn’t care if he found out, he couldn’t make heads or tails of this obtuse game she was playing. It was exhausting and frustrating. With time running out for Chaend, another meeting being called, Elloise sending messages about Nintrella, the mountain of paperwork he had to sift through, Eris, and the practical, Varis’ analytical capacities were a little tired. Maybe he could just let this one go and revisit it later.
“You need better hobbies.” Varis muttered as he sat, folding his arms, and scowled. Ryner just shook her head and laughed.
“I took a page out of your book, you know. If it’ll get you to stop pouting, I have some interesting news for you. Countess Mirelda, that barely independent Dutchess, offered me a favor for a late spot for one of her mages. I’ve never had one from her so what could I do but say yes. It’s another one for my collection.” Ryner smirked, handing him a document. “Which puts me one step closer to winning out wager.”
Varis took the document and, after sending her an unamused look, scanned over the page. Honestly, he wasn’t very well acquainted with Mirelda’s affairs; she fell under Sinnenodel purview because of a technicality and a trade deal but his Lady always handled her personally. He wasn’t even sure if he had access to whatever records were on file about their dealings. The mage was uninspiring. Better than that white haired atrocity but barely. Varis made a mental note to deduct an additional five points off her next assignment for making him think about her when she wasn’t in front of him.
“And why should I care, Ryner? If you’re expecting me to suddenly open up about this…” Varis peered at the girls name, nose wrinkled. Who had a name like Arva? Good gracious. If someone named him that, he’d treat it like his middle name and ignore it. “You’re going to be disappointed. I’ve given you plenty in the name of our little alliance. You’ll have to pay for it this time.”
“I thought as much. I’m willing to transfer that favor I earned to you if you get me what I want.” Ryner offered. Varis narrowed his eyes at her and looked back over the information. Name, age, gender, affinity, and a picture. It was rare she asked him for something like this so quickly. The Marivaldi’s were aligned with her politically and since they control the Council’s information network, it wouldn’t take much to pluck a few threads out of public view. He knew she was doing it too. She had him on his toes defending his Lady. He had a sneaking suspicion the attempt on his vaults was orchestrated by her but he didn’t have anything to prove it just yet. If everything went well with his asset in the royal castle, he’d have more than enough to blackmail her into submission.
“Really, a favor from a nobody dutchess is all I get? You can go running to the Marivaldi’s if you want to cheat me.” Varis considered exactly what he thought this was worth. It was hard to gauge given that he didn’t know what she wanted out of it but he knew it was valuable. “I want an Eve favor, specifically one from Countess Malvek, and the Dutchess favor or I’ll settle for one from Princess Nox and you can keep the Dutchess’.”
“One from Haldbrek Astorio and the Dutchess’ favor.” Ryner countered.
“Those and one from you.”
“Anika Patel and Wilfrid Harrington.”
“Malvek, Horvath, and Anika.”
“Absolutely no-” Ryner tilted her head in confusion. “What would you even do with a favor from Anika?”
“None of your business.” Varis replied smoothly, despite the fact he had no idea who Anika was. Ryner had only named people he either wanted something from or someone he could use against someone so he assumed it was useful. “Final offer Ryner: Malvek and Horvath and I’ll handle it personally. No mages, no middlemen. Just me.”
Ryner contemplated that for a moment, sitting back and watching him over steepled fingers. Varis maintained eye contact as she did. He knew handling it personally was a nice bargaining chip. It made him more vulnerable than he cared to admit but the favor from the head of the Eve modernist faction was too much to pass up. And Horvath’s would be a nice reprieve if he could get the meeting hosted in the vain Duke’s territory. Elloise had requested it last time they spoke.
“Agreed. I’ll have my mages update our little game and send out notices to the applicable parties.” Ryner pulled out a piece of parchment and began writing her letter. “If you wish, you may keep the document I gave you on her. One of my secretaries insisted I install a printer in here and now I can ask them to print things directly to this one over the airwaves! It’s so neat; I printed out so many photos a few nights ago. See?” Ryner waved around the room.Several of the art pieces she had had been taken down and replaced with various pictures of the royal vampires and the Starag mage family.
“That’s a waste of time and energy. At least use a printer for something useful.” Varis gagged at the pictures. Stupid but it did remind him he needed to use that correction method still hanging on the boy’s wall soon before the psychological impact wore off. He needed to start setting him up for the next fall. “What exactly am I looking for?”
“Anything. The girl’s records are completely sealed from me. Only my mother has permission to access them. And if that wasn’t enough, she isn’t the first one to favor her way into my school.” Ryner sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Duke Monfrello claimed the favor I owed him to bring his son into the academy. Nadir’s background is perfect. It accounts for almost everything, which is better than most, but the timing is so odd. They were barely a week apart. I have a bad feeling someone is bringing their politics onto my campus and I’m not going to tolerate it.”
Varis kept his thoughts to himself as he nodded along, considering the girl. Varis hated to agree with her but that was convenient which made him wary. Of course someone was doing something but with such an obvious method, he quickly came to the conclusion whoever it was, they wanted an investigation and Varis served himself up as the perfect bait. He would have to tread carefully. He hadn’t handled an investigation on his own in a little under two decades. He'd need to research.
“The school’s library should have more than enough to get a rough plan put together. After that, I’ll use the break to refine it.” Varis muttered to himself, considering his options already. He stood up abruptly, his frustrations behind him now that he had a new project to work on. “I’ll take my leave.”
Ryner watched him leave, the door closing calmly behind him. She laughed to herself and the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
The last one was her favorite.
“Look at that. My mages have finally adjusted to your childish behavior.” Ryner said as her secretary bowed and closed the door quietly. The first few times, they looked like they were on the verge of a panic attack. Now they just waved him through. It was probably more surprising that he had an appointment rather than just showing up. “So Count Sinnenodel, what can I help you with?”
“What can I help you with?” Varis repeated mockingly as he all but collapsed into a chair. Varis was tired. He’d stayed up trying to figure out where everything went wrong with Eris. Varis may have had the tiny, teeniest inkling Eris thought that maybe there could be more but Varis was never secretive about his stance on affections. The very concept left a distinctly bad taste in his mouth. Those emotions were fleeting and weak and would eventually collapse under the march of time. While they were fresh and fond, they were ammunition. Another point for enemies and tentative allies to drag you around with. Eris was an idiot for making it personal and the fact that Varis lost sleep over it was absurd.
And then of course, the idiot golden boy and his incessant demand for direction did little to soothe his irritation. Varis eventually gave in and sent him scuttling for a while just so he wouldn’t have to see the boy for a while. It irked the Sinnenodel―the boy’s performance certainly did not warrant any free time―but sometimes he had to consider his own mental health instead of the boy’s lack thereof. “Oh I don’t know, Princess. Maybe you could stop interfering with my personal agenda. What in the Queen’s name were you thinking?” Varis demanded, accompanied with a half hearted glare.
“Well, right now I think you skipped your morning routine. Unfortunately.” The words came out dryly as she returned to the folders in front of her. “I’ll need something more specific. I interfere with everyone’s personal agendas. It is quite literally my least favorite part of being next in line for the throne.” Varis scoffed and Ryner bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“Please, you love every second of it. You have an entire realm of subjects to choose from so why are you antagonizing me? Making Eris think I’m replacing him with a vampire dead 500 years ago? It wasn’t even subtle, Ryner.” Varis complained. “At least if you’re going to threaten my plans, please make it interesting. This is just annoying. I’ve never had to earn someone’s approval without resorting to underhand means and I wasn’t interested in trying now.”
“I knew nothing would come of it, Varis. I threatened your little pet in our meeting together and he nearly challenged me to a duel. I’m tempted to take him up on the challenge he did offer though. It’d be fun seeing how long he could handle me at my worst.” Ryner mused, laughing at Varis’ murderous look and waving it away. “Calm down, I’m just having a little fun. Court’s been surprisingly civil, my sister isn’t around to antagonize, and the Practical was a roaring success. I think I deserve to enjoy my night.”
Varis stared, dumbfounded, at Ryner. Could he understand sabotage for the sake of a reaction in stressful times? Of course. Every vampire indulged a little, even those inane Marivaldis couldn’t resist. Sometimes Varis would bring it up in casual conversation with whoever he backstabbed just to relieve the thrill. No. He was far too accustomed to working with Ryner for that to bother him. What stunned him was she genuinely believed the Practical was a roaring success. He leaned forward, closed the file she had opened, and stared at her straight in the eye for almost a full minute.
“My apologies, Princess, but I believe I misheard you.” Varis’ voice climbed an octave as he chuckled. “You claim that a noble stumbling around in the forest blind with a bumbling idiot who lacks all concepts of propriety is a success? You claim a noble digging around in the dirt a success? You claim sowing seeds of discord in your ally’s plans a success? You claim setting me on fire a success?” Varis screeched indignantly, the chair toppling over as he launched himself up, finger jabbing accusingly in Ryner’s face.
“Your little practical was an utter failure! I haven’t seen a worse excuse for a test in my life and I’ve suffered Eve classrooms.” Ryner winced at his complaining, rubbing her ear even though the amusement never left her eyes. “Where do you get off?!”
“Generally the bedroom.” Ryner replied without missing a beat, flipping the folder open Varis so rudely closed. His own name was printed at the top. “Normally, I commend you on your control over a conversation but when you’re upset, you devolve into a pattern. Makes it easy to figure out which buttons to press. I really should teach Aaron. Or make an offhand comment to Ella and her sisters. One of them will tell him.” She turned the folder and pushed it towards him. Varis flinched away from it like he was burned, rubbing absently at his ear.
“It was all scripted, Varis. I had a mage write it and I approved it. If I threw anything you could reason your way through, it wouldn’t have been much of a challenge. So I made it illogical. Aaron would never lift a finger to you, you had nothing to do with Ralmevik, Yvaine is the name of a legendary figure the mage once read about in a collection of poems, and the scene was nothing more than a silly creation meant to oppose everything you knew and believed in.” Ryner explained as Varis stared at the folder uneasily. It was a simple enough explanation and it made sense. He was in a sour mood already, on edge and frustrated, and what better way to keep him off balance than throw what he least expected at him? He went in expecting some sort of reason to the madness but there wasn’t any because the madness was the reason. It tied it all up in a pretty little present, bow and all.
So why didn’t it sit very well with him?
“But you aren’t really upset about the fire, are you?” Ryner brought him out of his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes at her sly look. “Maybe you were at the time but you’ve had time to process. You know Aaron would never raise a hand against you and even if he did, we are far more equipped to handle it than you were there. So if that’s the case, why was that the last one? Not the blindness, not the disorientation, not the public humiliation, which honestly I expected to be the focal point of this discussion, but it was the challenge. Why the challenge?”
“Because it was awful, that’s why.” Varis sputtered angrily, eyes darkening and fangs flashing at the Princess, which only made her grin more.
“Varis Sinnenodel, board member of the largest green energy company in the realm, the youngest heir to the Sinnendel Lordship ever, protector of the 3rd oldest Sinnenodel bloodline, biggest bookworm I’ve ever met and the greatest thorn in my side…” Ryner looked like a cat who got the cream, like Varis had handed her the greatest gift she’d even had in the past 7 centuries. “Is that fear I see? I’ve only ever seen that look once. I’m honored. I inspired fear in someone who I honestly believed couldn’t feel it for anyone other than Sybil Sinnenodel. You don’t even fear my mother.” Varis’ jaw clenched and Ryner giggled.
“Stop being a drama queen and sit down. Pick up my chair while you’re at it. Ryner rolled her eyes. “No, we didn’t see inside your, or anyone else’s for that matter, mind. It was simply a complex illusion that includes turning you invisible and intangible. Don’t worry, your century worth of family trauma keeps us out. No one wants to see all your daddy issues.”
Varis moved stiffly as he complied. He could see she wasn’t taking him seriously and it rankled. He didn’t understand why she was doing it though; she wasn’t stupid enough to think he wouldn’t see the side steps, the deflections, the misdirection so why was she making it so obvious? It didn’t make sense. She was more than capable of obfuscating her goals so unless she didn’t care if he found out, he couldn’t make heads or tails of this obtuse game she was playing. It was exhausting and frustrating. With time running out for Chaend, another meeting being called, Elloise sending messages about Nintrella, the mountain of paperwork he had to sift through, Eris, and the practical, Varis’ analytical capacities were a little tired. Maybe he could just let this one go and revisit it later.
“You need better hobbies.” Varis muttered as he sat, folding his arms, and scowled. Ryner just shook her head and laughed.
“I took a page out of your book, you know. If it’ll get you to stop pouting, I have some interesting news for you. Countess Mirelda, that barely independent Dutchess, offered me a favor for a late spot for one of her mages. I’ve never had one from her so what could I do but say yes. It’s another one for my collection.” Ryner smirked, handing him a document. “Which puts me one step closer to winning out wager.”
Varis took the document and, after sending her an unamused look, scanned over the page. Honestly, he wasn’t very well acquainted with Mirelda’s affairs; she fell under Sinnenodel purview because of a technicality and a trade deal but his Lady always handled her personally. He wasn’t even sure if he had access to whatever records were on file about their dealings. The mage was uninspiring. Better than that white haired atrocity but barely. Varis made a mental note to deduct an additional five points off her next assignment for making him think about her when she wasn’t in front of him.
“And why should I care, Ryner? If you’re expecting me to suddenly open up about this…” Varis peered at the girls name, nose wrinkled. Who had a name like Arva? Good gracious. If someone named him that, he’d treat it like his middle name and ignore it. “You’re going to be disappointed. I’ve given you plenty in the name of our little alliance. You’ll have to pay for it this time.”
“I thought as much. I’m willing to transfer that favor I earned to you if you get me what I want.” Ryner offered. Varis narrowed his eyes at her and looked back over the information. Name, age, gender, affinity, and a picture. It was rare she asked him for something like this so quickly. The Marivaldi’s were aligned with her politically and since they control the Council’s information network, it wouldn’t take much to pluck a few threads out of public view. He knew she was doing it too. She had him on his toes defending his Lady. He had a sneaking suspicion the attempt on his vaults was orchestrated by her but he didn’t have anything to prove it just yet. If everything went well with his asset in the royal castle, he’d have more than enough to blackmail her into submission.
“Really, a favor from a nobody dutchess is all I get? You can go running to the Marivaldi’s if you want to cheat me.” Varis considered exactly what he thought this was worth. It was hard to gauge given that he didn’t know what she wanted out of it but he knew it was valuable. “I want an Eve favor, specifically one from Countess Malvek, and the Dutchess favor or I’ll settle for one from Princess Nox and you can keep the Dutchess’.”
“One from Haldbrek Astorio and the Dutchess’ favor.” Ryner countered.
“Those and one from you.”
“Anika Patel and Wilfrid Harrington.”
“Malvek, Horvath, and Anika.”
“Absolutely no-” Ryner tilted her head in confusion. “What would you even do with a favor from Anika?”
“None of your business.” Varis replied smoothly, despite the fact he had no idea who Anika was. Ryner had only named people he either wanted something from or someone he could use against someone so he assumed it was useful. “Final offer Ryner: Malvek and Horvath and I’ll handle it personally. No mages, no middlemen. Just me.”
Ryner contemplated that for a moment, sitting back and watching him over steepled fingers. Varis maintained eye contact as she did. He knew handling it personally was a nice bargaining chip. It made him more vulnerable than he cared to admit but the favor from the head of the Eve modernist faction was too much to pass up. And Horvath’s would be a nice reprieve if he could get the meeting hosted in the vain Duke’s territory. Elloise had requested it last time they spoke.
“Agreed. I’ll have my mages update our little game and send out notices to the applicable parties.” Ryner pulled out a piece of parchment and began writing her letter. “If you wish, you may keep the document I gave you on her. One of my secretaries insisted I install a printer in here and now I can ask them to print things directly to this one over the airwaves! It’s so neat; I printed out so many photos a few nights ago. See?” Ryner waved around the room.Several of the art pieces she had had been taken down and replaced with various pictures of the royal vampires and the Starag mage family.
“That’s a waste of time and energy. At least use a printer for something useful.” Varis gagged at the pictures. Stupid but it did remind him he needed to use that correction method still hanging on the boy’s wall soon before the psychological impact wore off. He needed to start setting him up for the next fall. “What exactly am I looking for?”
“Anything. The girl’s records are completely sealed from me. Only my mother has permission to access them. And if that wasn’t enough, she isn’t the first one to favor her way into my school.” Ryner sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Duke Monfrello claimed the favor I owed him to bring his son into the academy. Nadir’s background is perfect. It accounts for almost everything, which is better than most, but the timing is so odd. They were barely a week apart. I have a bad feeling someone is bringing their politics onto my campus and I’m not going to tolerate it.”
Varis kept his thoughts to himself as he nodded along, considering the girl. Varis hated to agree with her but that was convenient which made him wary. Of course someone was doing something but with such an obvious method, he quickly came to the conclusion whoever it was, they wanted an investigation and Varis served himself up as the perfect bait. He would have to tread carefully. He hadn’t handled an investigation on his own in a little under two decades. He'd need to research.
“The school’s library should have more than enough to get a rough plan put together. After that, I’ll use the break to refine it.” Varis muttered to himself, considering his options already. He stood up abruptly, his frustrations behind him now that he had a new project to work on. “I’ll take my leave.”
Ryner watched him leave, the door closing calmly behind him. She laughed to herself and the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
OP
Achronum The Pyro
Member
Seen
13 hrs ago
“So I was thinking that since we are all joining together and Ishara and I have…”
© 2007-2024