Izurich

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

--Ravenfell- Athroyeaux Coast--

_{In collaboration with @Estylwen}

---

Off the coast of Arthroyeaux, amidst a cloudy sky and disturbed sea, a lone fisherman's ship was seen over the water. Fishermen could be seen with their nets. But, more importantly, coming up from the lower deck, was none other than Valor Teardrop, standing with a hand on her hip, looking out at the waves.

They were right over the coordinates. Now, it was only a matter of snatching up what was lost. The air, however, felt tense…

The inexplicable tension in the air then heralded itself through an archway-shaped portal spawning on the same deck that the Clandestine agent found herself on, and stepping forward from said portal was none other than She Who Hosts the Shade, Scion of the Tearmoon Coven and Royal Apprentice of the Hathforth Court, Melisande Tearmoon... or at least, an entity that wore her face and voice. It heeded not the various reactions of the fish-harvesting mortals, how could it when it could reunite with its 'old friend' from the castle gardens?

"So... here it lies..." Kronos chuckled, gazing toward the sea before ever so slightly turning its indigo gaze at Valor, "You seem surprised, pawn of the false-shade king." At this point, the Dremora had dropped any pretense that it was the Lilim it masqueraded as, its voice carrying otherworldly whispers through the very air, "Did you really think your mages could manipulate the fabric of space-time in my presence and expect it to go unnoticed?" It sneered, half-amused, half-insulted.

It'd have preferred to devour the Ghost King himself, but for now, one of his pawns would do, a little... entree to the main course. "You see, I'd never have thought I'd sympathize with any mortals, and yet... your king had proven me wrong. Your kind is so vile that I felt pity for those humans you summoned. I've made it my duty to consume every last one of your “people”... starting with you, so come, you unliving mockery of the shadekin; fight and resist, it shall make my meal all that sweeter..."

Valor Teardrop turned and faced ‘Mèlisande’, staring for a moment before scoffing. “So you really are a Shade.”

She gestured with her hands, shrugging. “You can try all you like, King DuFairre's magic is true, and his intent pure. The Ghosts of Ravenfell have little to fear from the likes of you.”

"Indeed, in the shadows, a truekin, which your 'people' mock with your very existence," The Dremora curled an uncharacteristic grin across Melisande's face as it too tilted its head, albeit to such an angle that very much suggested it was no Lilim, "Good, I prefer prey that has confidence." It chuckled lowly as the simulacrum's shadow seemed to part its jaws and lick its lips.

Valor was silent, before she placed a single gauntleted finger on the chin of her mask. “Though, if you really noticed the Royal Symphony's teleportation magic, this is perplexing… You've come alone, haven't you?”

"Of course I had. Why would I share my meal?"

The Dremora lied as easily as it manipulated space-time.

"Kronos, Mother and I are ready to act upon your command."

"Wonderful, Feylings, just as we schemed."

"Be cautious, she might not be alone herself."

"I am aware. If you see one cockroach, there'll always be more lurking nearby..."

Valor clasped her hands together in front of her, “Very well, then. Still no intent to heed His Majesty's words? You know what's coming. A storm that will destroy everything, and a new Arrowfell will sprout from the ashes.”

Her head tilted. “Surely a Shade such as yourself has some amount of self-preservation…”

"Ehehehe... hahahahahaha!!" The Simulacrum's shadow cackled, though its voice was carried through the air all the same, its source mattered not, both its 'body' and the shadow cast by said vessel were of one and the same entity, "You seem to misunderstand... Arrowfell disgusts me, all those mortals and their petty squabbles," It paused, simply to let its words hang in the air, "However, it's not about that at all, what I want is the utter extermination of your kind, I care not what your ambitions are, only your demise..."

Valor listened intently, silently. Before a huff left her chest, short, dismissive. Still, she didn't move to draw her sword. She seemed relaxed, as if she was untouchable.

If the undead wouldn't make her move, then... fine by Kronos, even as they spoke, Melisande and her vexatious Feyling of a mother were working on narrowing the location of the sword and as for the Dremora, it could wait, after all, it had all the time in the world.

Indeed, it was easy to detect with magic that the sword rested at the bottom of the ocean here, gently wedged between two coral beds. Fish unknowingly swam around it, some gazing at the strange, ghostly gleam it gave off.

However, the moment Mèlisande and her mother would begin to seek it with their magic, a gold cage, or shield, encased the sword.

Meanwhile, on the other side.

"Melly dear, tell Kronos that a rather intrusive party is competing for possession of the artifact."

"Kronos, we've located the sword, but someone got to it before us and blocked our access.

On the boat's deck, Valor stood there, casually swaying her weight on one leg, her hand raised and glowing a faint golden hue. She tutted at the Shade.

“Lying like a bad child. Someone ought to teach you some manners.”

A minute shift of Kronos' indigo pupils as it reflected the the dim golden hue, "Ah, I may have identified our culprit..."

"Ehehehe... indeed, so come, punish me."

Her free fingers snapped, and there was a rush of air. In an instance, a lithe man in a billowing cape and white mask appeared in front of the Shade. A slender lance was gripped in his hand, thrown with rapid force, aiming so the tip would pierce Kronos, right in the heart.

Simultaneously, Valor manipulated her golden fingers, and the sword with its gilded cage slowly began to raise.

As both sides expected from each other, neither of them were alone. Thus, the Dremora was quite pleased when another of her ilk finally showed himself. By the end of the day, it might have enough to share with other Shades... no, nevermind, it'd have all of them for itself.

"Feylings, now, they took the bait."

Within the following short seconds, a cascade of events all unfolded at once.

First, Kronos didn't even bother to move the Simulacrum out of harm's way, instead using the chance to silently cast Fate Bond upon Valor and Faith, intertwining their strings of fate and causality together.

Second, a Dimension Door tore through space-time behind Valor, connecting the two locations, revealing a pair of nearly-identical Lilim in a mystical forest by a verdant glade. One of them was keeping the portal open, while the other...

"O' stellar comets, swarm them!"

Third, Jezebel snapped her wand toward Valor as numerous magical bullets burst forth from it, all homing in on the female undead with power and precision one would come to expect from the Lilim Matriarch.

There was a haughty huff as Valor half turned to view the portal, the rush of comets. Instantly, a gold construct, translucent, erected itself in a dome over Valor. Comets impacted the magical barrier, ricocheting off. Fishermen panicked, scurrying below deck to avoid any stray magic.

Valor, however, kept her position, her stance calm and relaxed despite the minor cracks inflecting on the surface. As the Matriarch's attack ended, her dome morphed into pinpoints of gold, like hovering rain. Each elongated into a needle, and shot forward, a shower of needles arcing forward to pierce the Lilims.

"Ah, the little corpse has her tricks~" Jezebel remarked with a chortle, so indeed, there were good reasons why Kronos itself relented to allow Melisande to ask for her assistance, these pawns of the Ghost-King weren't pushovers, "I shall handle her thorns, my dears." The Matriarch declared as she flicked her wand, casting her Magic Missiles once more as swarms of star-shaped projectiles rushed forward, clashing and neutralizing Valor's golden needles.

Meanwhile, the masked Clandestine made disgruntled noise, noticing the weaving of magic the Shade had wrought upon them. Nevertheless, he struck forward with his lance, the Shade unmoving. The lance appeared struck through the Shade's head, before the weapon impacted, a shockwave ripping the Shade's body apart, along with the rail of the boat.

"Ha ha ha ha ha haaa...." Slow, mocking laughter haunted the open sea even as Faith's lance struck the Simulacrum true, shattering it as the construct dispersed into tiny motes of mana residue...

The Clandestine stared for a moment, before he hovered on the spot, plucking up his lance again and turning to the Dimensional Door.

...only for Melisande's Seed to glow as Kronos reappeared right in front of the lancer, between him and the Dimension Door. Its shadow curling a mad grin, whispering right into Faith's unliving soul, "Sit, boy..." as it hexed the Clandestine agent with a chronomantic malady, the aptly-named 'Slow' spell gripping his limbs and - due to the Fate Bond - Valor's as well.

"Feyling, I've bonded their fate-strings and cursed them with time-lethargy."

"Duly noted, Kronos."

Meanwhile, the real Melisande was not about to let Kronos' efforts go in vain as she reached her right hand forward... then closed it into a fist. At virtually the same time, the fabric of space-time around Faith trembled and throbbed before violently imploding, courtesy of the silent-cast Vacuum spell.

Before the spell could hit its mark, however, a red sigil appeared under the feet of both the masked Clandestine and Valor. In an instant, space warped, and the two members vanished…

The cage around the sword disappeared, and it began sinking once more into the waters.

"And thus they scurried off like the fleas they are..."

"Do you know where they went, Kronos?"

"You offend me, Feyling, one does not manipulate the fabric of reality before The Dremora of Space-Time and expect it to not notice."

"That is fair. Would you go after them?"

"Good question. As much as I'd like to, they are mere pawns, and we have a more pressing matter to attend to. However, rest assured, upon my immortal soul, I swear that Ravenfell will be truly lifeless sooner than later."

"While you two are having your lovely little telepathic chat, look what I've discovered~" The Matriarch chimed in as she made a flourish with her wand, then a second later, something rose out of the watery surface...

Titanslayer, The One Sword to Rule Them All.

The mythical blade proceeded to slowly descend, finally landing in Kronos' hands.

"Ah... yesss..." Kronos hissed, splitting an ear-to-ear grin as the Simulacrum's hands gripped it tight. Shadowy tendrils licked the air around the Dremora before they coalesced upon the ghostly blade, enveloping it, infusing it with a part of the Shade's own essence.

"With this, you are 'Titanslayer' no longer, I christen thee... 'Shadesbane', slayer of my own kind and leviathans alike."

The very air of the open sea rumbled as if Ravenfell itself was quaking under the realization that their sovereign had just made a powerful enemy, it wasn't enough that he had to declare war against the dukedoms and houses of Arrowfell, but gained the ire of the Shade as well. Perhaps, indeed, twas' time the Ghost-King learned that agelessness did not equal true immortality.

For now, the pair of Lilim mother and daughter watched in silence through the portal...

...as the sky turned black.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Eve "Grayscale"
Ranbu no Izayoi

---

Journeying under the ocean’s clear blue sky was not an uncommon experience for the faux dragoness as twas' natural for someone capable of (un)naturally sprouting her own pair of wings. However, just as there were differences between walking on foot versus traveling via carriage, sailing on an ship too had its own set of unique quirks; she didn't need to continuously control her altitude, lift, and speed among several other things.

Thus, by the time Ranbu no Izayoi stumbled upon Grayscale, the latter could be found relaxing on the open-air upper deck; her hood back, pale gray locks swaying in the breeze as she leaned against a railing, and red eyes gazing contemplatively upon the horizon.

Izayoi arrived on deck with a fishing rod and tackle, giving Eve a brief nod as she started setting up her line next to her.

The shorter female partially turned her gaze toward the samurai, then gave her a small nod in return.

”Have the pirates given you any trouble?” She asked, baiting her hook. ”I believe the manor incident impressed upon them as a whole that we are not to be trifled with, but one or two may not have quite understood the message.”

"Trouble?" Eve paused for a moment, recalling everything she could about Bikke's crew; they gave her all sorts of reactions: anxiety, nonchalance, and even fascination, but none of them troubled her, "No. A few avoided me, others approached, but most kept to themselves." Explained the Pseudolon.

A moment of tranquil silence then fell between the two, just a fisherwoman and her observer… "Do you see me as a child, Izayoi?" At least until the latter broke it.

Izayoi regarded Eve in silence at the question as she cast her line out.

”You do not behave as one, but your appearance is closer to that than of an adult.” She stated matter-of-factly, returning her gaze to the water as she kept an eye on her bobber.

The Mystrel's response to the mutant's inquiry earned her a pause, then followed by a small defeated sigh as Eve's half-closed eyes stared down toward the water's surface, her form slumping slightly more than before. "I'm aware..." Eve murmured, "It's vexing to be immediately assumed as an infant and having to explain to each new colleague that I'm not, sometimes, I don't even have that chance..."

”Have I given you cause to believe that I treat you as a child?”

It was... admittedly a good question, one that the Pseudolon had to spend some time contemplating, "It's... difficult to explain, but..." Her right hand raised to rest against her chin, "I've observed that the way you treated me is similar to how you behave around Miina, and furthermore..." Eve's lips subtly quivered as a rush of painful memories flashed in her mind, "Though not exactly alike, those actions reminded me of... her," Red eyes shifted to the sides for a moment, "Dr. Eve, my mother."

A dry chuckle left her throat, "With Miina, I can understand, but we're most likely not that different in terms of chronological age, Izayoi."

”Truly? Then some would call you fortunate for appearing perpetually young.” Izayoi questioned, glancing skyward briefly to note Rudolf and Esben up in the mizzen mast, conversing about what the gods know what.

”The Valheimr had you within their clutches for no small amount of time, then. Decades, at the very least.” She noted, returning her gaze to her fishing.

"I... don't particularly care about that." The Pseudolon murmured, peering back down at the seas while Izayoi noted the two Atsu Inn-mates up above, "Regardless of my apparent agelessness, I have more glaring issues." Eve sighed, examining the scales on her arm for a brief moment, "Most likely so, though I spent no small amount of that time comatose as they tinkered and toyed with my body and soul." Eve's placid tone intensified slightly before she calmed herself down.

”And if I remind you of your mother, it is not intentional on my part. Perhaps it may be more intentional for myself with Miina, considering one could evidently crush that girl’s morale with a stiff breeze. Then again, I hardly have any examples to base mine own behavior off of.”

"I see, I suspected as much, it's a mere coincidence in the end." The horned girl chuckled once at Izayoi's mention of the younger Mystrel, "Perhaps this is what they call ‘maternal instinct'?" Izayoi was a mother after all, before Valheim took her family away just as they took Eve's, "Someone who feeds you when you're hungry, comforts you when you're down, nurses your wounds if you're hurt..."

”Perhaps.” Izayoi conceded to Eve’s quip about maternal instinct before she was alerted by a tug on her line. A few moments of reeling later, and the sides of her mouth upturned slightly for a moment as she deposited her catch into the bucket. Mackerel, one of her favorites. Perfect.

"Oh..." The petite black mage fixed her eyes upon the piscine creature splashing just underneath the surface as the raven-haired samurai managed to claim yet another into her long list of victims, though perhaps there was a better way to phrase it. Regardless, this mackerel had the honor of falling to the legendary Ranbu no Izayoi herself.

”Speaking of your wounds,” Izayoi began, baiting her hook and casting the line out once more. ”Your blood. As I am aware, even dragons do not bleed rainbow. A side effect of Valheim’s work, I take it?”

Eve was still peering down into the bucket when Izayoi addressed the matter of her curious 'blood', prompting her to look back toward the sea, "Correct, dragons are organic creatures," The Artificial Eidolon mused as she continued observing the fishing line, waiting for the second catch, "But what flows through my body is ether, the very same substance that fuels arcane spells, materias, and last but not least, the lifeblood of True Eidolons. Tis' the reason why my vessel does not function the way yours does." A brief pause, "Through logical deduction, we can assume that every single 'sibling' of mine would host ether instead of blood as well."

”Ah, yes. Your fellow victims. Do you foresee them becoming an issue? Should Valheim deploy them in combat against us, what are your suggestions?” Izayoi inquired, focusing on more practical matters than the minutiae of how Eve functioned as a living being.

"Yes, I absolutely do." The sheer speed in which Eve's response was mustered could rival even Izayoi's cuts at her best, though she did take a moment longer to pause for the second inquiry, "It'll depend on which Eidolon they're based on, so my best advice would be to treat them as if you're facing the specific Primal that particular chimera emulates."

Another tranquil silence accompanied only by the sea breeze fell over them, at some point, Eve had noticed the presence of Esben and Rudolf sharing a lunch on the deck above theirs, prompting a barely-perceptible frown from Bahamut's illegitimate scion, before she returned her attention to the fishing ex-general, "..." staring at her for a few seconds...

"Why did you do what you did, Izayoi? To win the war at all cost?"

Unlike her inquiries to Rudolf on that fateful night in the desert, this one was completely bereft of any accusatory or judgmental tone, Eve made them under the basis of curiosity, and nothing more.

Izayoi frowned. The only reason she would even humor Eve on this matter was due to her tone. A genuine lack of understanding was preferable to outraged moralizing.

”Because I refused to allow outsiders to invade our lands, my home, and greedily pillage its resources and people. I have traveled across the entirety of Osprey, and would and did sell my soul to ensure that its people did not live under the thumb of distant, foreign rulers.”

Her mouth curled up into a bitter, sardonic smirk.

”And yet I still failed. Twice over. I make no illusions that had I won us the last war, I could have stopped Valheimr’s invasion.”

"I see." Eve replied curtly, simply acknowledging Izayoi's elaboration of her past without any opinion of her own. It was all in the distant past and none of those were particularly relevant as things stood, she was simply curious.

Though the same couldn't be said for the following what-if remark as it dealt with their current and active threat, "Valheim's timing of the invasion was no coincidence, they were deliberately letting Edren and Osprey weaken each other first," The Pseudolon paused with a frown that's somewhere between frustrated and hateful, "And judging what we've known so far about them, including Cid's revelations, no, I don't think you'd be able to, Izayoi. At least not by your lonesome, Osprey and Edren would have to band together to even the odds, but... I'd wager those scheming scum knew either side would be too resentful of each other to even consider that."

Eve then heaved a quiet sigh, "Regardless, we'll succeed this time... or die trying." Might as well, now with the world itself at stake…

Izayoi found herself less surprised by her newfound knowledge than she supposed she should be. It made no small amount of sense that Valheim had been sitting on the sidelines, waiting for Osprey and Edren to weaken each other. Nonetheless, she nodded back at Eve.

”I swore to avenge my family, and to see Osprey freed. No matter what I must do, no matter how many I must slay, I will see it done. As I see it, you are the only other one aside from Ciradyl that truly understands the need for vengeance.”

"... ... ..." After the Emperor's Demon's oath, the Chimeric Primal fell still, gazing toward the blue horizon, yet unlike the tranquil lull from before, this one was tense, foreboding, not unlike the deceptive calm at the eye of the storm, surrounded on all sides by an all-consuming hurricane. Then, Eve straightened herself, angling her body so she could now glance at Izayoi without having to turn her neck.

The sea breeze swayed her dark clothes and gray locks, but her form remained rigid, hosting a pair of slitted red eyes, opened as wide as they could be. Amongst the Kirins, Izayoi was the only one who had witnessed this malevolent leer before, whether back in Atsu before her family's grave or now in the middle of the high seas, the message remained clear.

Valheim shall burn.

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

In one fell swoop, Lamont made enemies with Hathforth, Odonfield, Agrovia, Caelin, Tearmoon, Prosser, Furino, and the freakin' Shade.

Truly this must be a 4D Chess Move by Evelyn to redirect everyone's attention toward the spectral aliens instead of her.

Sasuga Wizard-Queen, her cunning knows no bounds.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

--Kugane - Safehouse--

As the discussions went on, with more and more of the party chiming in with their own take on the whole debacle, including from Ciradyl herself, Eve slowly but surely began to understand why the Bard was so distraught. Her previous assessment was incorrect, she wasn't so deep undercover that she thought of Tane as her employer and lover, but instead the fact that she had subjected plenty of Ospreyans to death or worse. After all, they were still her countrymen, bad apples they might be, and not to mention, she was... cooperating with Valheim.

Valheim...!!

Even the mere thought of dealing with the invaders ignited the flames of hatred in Eve's ether-beating heart. She knew it now, it was indeed churlish of her to simply dismiss Ciradyl's turmoil like that. Imagine years upon years of paying lip service to traitors and the empire, the fact she could keep it up for so long spoke wonders of her dedication, loyalty, and strength.

Should she comfort the Faye? Hmmm... perhaps not, Miina had gotten to it.

However, as Galahad had mentioned, the Bard still did made a grave error in judgment when she went off on her own even though they had a mutual goal, complicating everything, and not just that, even after the party narrowly managed to salvage the operation, Ciradyl still tried to sabotage it by expecting the Kirins to be able to interrogate a corpse. Eve might see the whole interrogation objective to be frustratingly unnecessary, but they had committed to it, so the least the Faye could do was respect the team's wishes as the Pseudolon did.

For this matter specifically, no one in their right mind would say Ciradyl wasn't at fault.

Meanwhile, Esben's attempt at keeping the papers out of sight didn't even register in the false dragoness' mind, at some point in the discussion, her thoughts became quite occupied and whatever specific information contained in those documents ceased to matter, especially after the Kirins had elaborated all the important points. Thus, Eve blinked when she heard someone calling out her name, prompting her to shift her gaze at Esben.

"If by messy you mean dirty, then yes, you're a bit 'messy'," All dust, soot, and debris of the mansion assault trapped on and between his blond locks, "Fortunately, I can take care of it." Eve quipped nonchalantly as she - without warning - cast a small hydromantic spell, conjuring a bubble full of warm water as it proceeded to envelop Esben's scalp like a reverse shower cap. The aquatic mass would begin to rub and massage the Spy's hair and skin, scrubbing off any dirt and grime.

Who ever said a black mage could only destroy?

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

--Nieve - Mages' Guild--

@FujiwaraPhoenix @Drifting Pollen @Rezod92

Ehen~ A satisfied huff left the youkai's lips the moment Anne and Fran introduced themselves as her retinues, and judging from how genuine said huff sounded, it wouldn't be far-fetched to assume Remilia - either ignorantly or deliberately - disregarded the pretending aspect of their gesture. "Of course, Your Highness~" Now with her mood lifted, the vampiress was noticeably more patient as she waited for the princess to do a little house cleaning of the workshop, then entered along with the others upon her signal.

With a perpetual small smile on her visage, Remilia took a seat and observed the sheer fascination in Serena when she laid eyes upon Anne's curious arm. Indeed, twas' something that not even the Kappa Engineer could craft, at least not without guidance, those folks were nothing but ingenious after all. Regardless, the Knight's artificial limb was proof enough to vouch for the rest of their story, then the ambassador could essentially repeat what they had said to him for the princess' benefit.

Oh my, what's this? Attendance with the King?

Ah... finally, really it shouldn't take them this long to see the monarch, but she wouldn't be petty and reject the boon, this one most especially of all.

And last but certainly not least, proper accommodations as befitting her noble station!

"We can certainly stay for however long as you'd like, Your Highness!" The vampiress flashed a fanged grin, the thought of gourmet food, fine wine, and a proper warm bath spurring her into action, "And all of us are capable warriors in our own right, so it'll certainly be in our mutual best interest if we remain here and ready to act against these assailants." It’d be wise, indeed~

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

@Izurich After. :) The seed was handed over in the morning, and Sev's execution time is in the evening the same day.

@Estylwen

Oooh, I see~

I'll get into her headspace and see if she would want to attend. Right now, the prospects seem to be leaning to 'no' as she has little to do with the duke, and not to mention she has... other more pressing matters to care for. 😏

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

docs.google.com/document/d/1xpArOWfeF…

Here it is! Let me know if Sev's intro to his execution needs any adjustments for other ideas to sprout! Everyone is welcome to participate!

@Estylwen

Ooooh, spicy! Did this happen before or after Melisande and Eirwen handed over the amalgamated seed to Evelyn?

SPIRITUM

--Rassvet - Tanker Crash Site--

Through the combined efforts of Morden, Silje, and Justice, the Barghests had managed to triumph over even the titanic broodmother of the pack... and keep everyone alive in the process, what? Justice's barrier wasn't there just to look pretty. Nevertheless, it was finally over-... it better be over, there was no higher purpose in combating wildlife, an unnecessary risk and waste of effort from the nation's first line of defense.

"Haaa..." After confirming there were no other burrowers nearby, Valerie slightly relaxed as she disengaged her powers, the purple veins fading away from Haylel's surface as the weapon's hum and glow ceased, leaving only the faint trail of mist vapors wisping out of its barrel. However, just as a precaution, she didn't stow away the bulky mistarm yet, instead keeping it on her person as she approached Gerard’s location.

"..." The white-haired WARDEN observed in inquisitive silence as the "civilian" started prattling on and on, being overly animated even though he was (mostly) fine. Oh please, for the love of the Earthmother, they didn't need another Silje in the team. Though apparently, Ivan here was closely acquainted with one of them, and oddly, it's not the battlemage, but instead...

"Care to enlighten us about this jackass, Kali?"

During the commotion, the tallest white-haired personnel among them did say something along the lines of 'mission-critical' and 'needing him alive', but the question still remained, why?

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

--Mizutani Mansion - Interior--

So, now that the rat had given what the cat wanted, there should be absolutely no reason to keep her alive anymore, yes? Between her inner turmoil enticing her to succumb to her most violent desires in her zealous pursuit to "make everything right" and Tane simply being an insufferable scum who attempted to besmirch Ciradyl's name, Eve was this close to launching a stone spike into the crime lord's skull so they could all be done with it. Fortunately, Miina had the same idea and at last fulfilled their primary objective.

Care not to forget to remove the head for Captain Bikke. ...is what she'd say, but with Izayoi around, it'd be a redundant affair, something her aching head couldn't handle right now.

As for the matters of Ciradyl's “betrayal”, some of the Kirins might be shocked or stupefied by this... so-called revelation, but Eve? Honestly, she expected it, as in, Ciradyl was a spy masquerading as a bard, and as proven time and time again, she was a damned fine one, to the point that the people she had infiltrated truly believed she was one of them, including Mizutani herself. Speaking of, as far as the late crime lord was concerned, she was being truthful; in her eyes, her beloved 'Cici' had truly turned on her, which goes to show just how competent the Faye was at her job.

However, were those real tears coming from the Bard's eyes? They seemed to be. Hmmm... there was only one reasonable hypothesis for this: the emotional catharsis from finally being able to cut off the head of the snake who had been constricting the innocent for so long must be... overwhelming.

She's so deep undercover that even she herself feels like she had just betrayed her former employer... I don't envy her.

Whatever, they'd sort this all out back at Hien's place, Eve was sure of it.

--Kugane - Safehouse--

"Ugh..." Seated next to the SEED agent, the Pseudolon couldn't help but to roll her eyes at the commotion raised by Arton, and then to make matters worse, Ciradyl was enabling his baseless accusations, what was she up to? Hien had been rescued and Mizutani was slain, there was no need to maintain the masquerade, at least not to the Kirins. When the Skaellan swordsman demolished the perfectly functional table, "Uuuurgh..." another - longer and more exasperated - groan left Eve's throat, a figurative trail of wisp-like ether floating up from her slightly ajar lips, Now she couldn't even bury her forehead into the surface, indeed, he better be sorry...

... ... ...

See? She knew it, she also knew that Esben would be able to see the truth where others couldn't; he's a spy too after all, he should be aware of the nitty gritty details of the world of espionage. While Eve had experience of blending into the crowd and not attracting attention, she had nothing against these agents of subterfuge, who could falsify even their very identity, all to accomplish their missions.

Esben's detailed and rational deliberation, backed by official documents and confirmations from Izayoi, couldn't come any sooner. Finally, it'd push even these hysterical braggarts to see the truth, that Ciradyl had sacrificed her identity and even conscience, all to ensure her people's survival, the good people, those who deserved to live, and culling those who - like Tane - were essentially parasites.

"You owe us a table, Arton..." Eve murmured, uncaring if she was too quiet to be heard, but didn't care if she wasn't either.

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

--Athroyeaux Castle - Throne Room--

@Estylwen @LunarParadox @ERode @Click This @Irradiant

Oh, so the Ghost King wasn't truly defenseless after all? Granted, while he was full of hubris, he was no fool, of course he'd employ some sort of self-defense measures, especially when addressing strangers of unknown allegiances. Still, even as the red sigil spawned and worked its magic, Kronos made full use of Melisande's talents and its own mastery over the domain of space-time to analyze as much of the runes as it could, it might prove useful, know one's enemy as much as one could.

Seemingly heedless to the arrival of the spectral mages, "Heh... ehehehe.... hahahahahahahaha...!" Melisande's shadow continued cackling as if it was witnessing the most amusing show in the world. In fact, it was a mixture of humor and annoyance that made it so... rousing. Those words coming from the so-called 'Ghost King', empty claims and boasts, finally revealing his despicable nature after his facade of diplomacy utterly failed against them. Oh, so he wished to play the ominous shadowy figure, did he? Well... two can play that game.

The Lilim's shadow ebbed and flowed on its own as it loomed its head near Lamont's ghostly ears, then it whispered, its words piercing straight into his undead soul, "Mark my words, Petty King of False-Shades," Kronos chuckled lowly, "The next time we meet, I shall show you what it means to face against a true shadeborne, when I take your rotten souls, drag you and your people - kicking and screaming - into the Shade... oh, your wails of agony shall be symphony to us..."

If Lamont took its words to heart, then good, let him marinate in fear, but if he dismissed them, then even better, Kronos would prefer if its prey could fight back, it'd make their fall all the sweeter.

With one final chuckle, the Simulacrum vanished from the throne room along with the others, but it was nowhere to be found at their supposed destination, it had truly evaporated into thin air...
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"Ah, Kronos, you've returned. How was the summon?"

"Indeed I have, heheheh... and I can't believe I'd ever say this, but, Feyling, you mortals can be interesting after all..."

... ... ...

"So I see... then we may have a mutual enemy. Hmmm... do you think that the reason Her Majesty had been so strict is to prepare Arrowfell for the inevitable conflict with Ravenfell? Perhaps, she had always known."

"Ah, perhaps, little Feyling, perhaps indeed... and you may not believe me when I say this, but... that spectre... that thing vexes me more than even your mother or the Wizard-Queen, hehehe... I will tear his soul apart. This, I promise you."

"While I'd normally say your resentment is excessive, it'd be a lie, as from what you've told me of this Lamont, he's indeed long due for consequences."

"You're wise, Melisande, hehe..."

"So, what will you do next?"

"Heh... you shall see."

--Arrowfell - Tearmoon Glade--

"Mother, a package has arrived for you," A peppy voice came from the dark-haired Lilim entering the Matriarch's abode, "Nitta said it's for your eyes only." The girl mentioned, her onyx eyes briefly scanning over the wrapped box in her hands.

"Oh, curious," The Coven's Matriarch, Jezebel Tearmoon, curled a small amused smile as she faced the younger Lilim, one of her daughters, "Please give it to me, Fidel."

"Of course, Mother." Fidelicia obediently approached and politely offered the object to the older woman.

"Thank you, dear." She took the package away, having already analyzed it for magical trappings the moment she laid eyes on it earlier, it was safe.

"You're welcome!" Though she'd like to stay and indulge in her curiosity of the contents, great-aunt Suzanna had a task for her and besides, Nitta did say the package was for her mother's eyes only, and last time she checked, she was Jezebel's daughter and not Jezebel herself, "I'll see you around!"

"Of course, dear, try to be back home before dinner." The Matriarch chuckled as her second eldest daughter left the house, flying away with her wind magic, meanwhile, Jezebel turned her indigo eyes back at the 'secret delivery' then used a simple telekinetic spell to unwrap it.

What laid inside the box was a batch of fine perfumes and skin oils, crafted by the famous artisan Henrietta Elkenisle, sent to her under the behest of House Rhinecliff of Odonfield, indeed, proven by the envelope included within, enclosed with a seal bearing the noble house's crest. The missive floated in the air, manipulated by Jezebel's arcane limbs, then opened, revealing a letter - handwritten - authored by none other than Duke Laurent himself.

"..." The more Jezebel read the words contained within, the wider her smile grew, and she was positively smirking by the time the letter floated back down onto her study's table, "Well played, Rhinecliff... well played indeed..."