"Mister Cormac?" Aoife greeted, her tone questioning so to urge the instructor to get right down to business.
Desmond frowned, once more patting away his ever-present sweat from his brow. "Please, Aoife. You know I prefer 'Desmond' among students that have already graduated from my class," he said before taking a small wheeze, as if he had spoken at some length without taking a breath. On the surface, Aoife's former instructor sounded as if he were just making casual conversation, something at the back spoke of another, deeper underlying problem.
There was a momentary lull as the Reinforcement Spellcraft instructor paused. He looked lost, physically and mentally. For a time, the Hall of Healers knew only the sound of Adam and Miataea speaking, and the constant current of air puffing in and out of Desmond's mouth and nose. Aoife couldn't help but tap a foot on the ground in impatience, placing one of her hands at her hip and casting a definitive look that said, 'Well?'
That was enough, the nervous instructor seemed to remember the purpose of it all, and again he jumped while seated, even letting out a small 'ack!' in apprehension. Rather than begin speaking, he cast a furtive glance in a seemingly random direction; downturned eyes occasionally flicked upwards, then at times to the sides.
Aoife blinked, what had Desmond Cormac gripped by such nervous tension? He was always a bit mousy, but not to this extent.
The direction he had been looking in would appear random to those out of the know, but Aoife was aware that there was a teacher's ward placed to observe the Hall of Healers. But then, Desmond was a teacher, so what had he to fear from his fellow staffs' peering eyes and ears?
An answer would soon come, she supposed.
"Uhm——" Desmond's head turned to look at Aoife, then back in the general direction of the ward. He muttered under his breath, a poetic verse that could only be a short incantation, "May the wolves be blinded,/so that the sheep may play in peace..."
The red-headed investigator felt a tingle, not only from the faint nuance of magic being used, but from the sensation of being watched fading to some extent. The ward had been deactivated, and using the 'proper' method, too. The only reason Aoife was aware of it was due to her ridiculously acute senses for the matter. Desmond turned back to his former student, a renewed sense of purpose apparent on his face. She could only smile, and tugged at one of the Hall's curtains to obscure the two of them from sight.
Aoife, too, cast a small spell. Though hers was without incantation, but with motion. Surreptitiously, the investigator twirled a finger, and the pair felt a gentle wind about them. "We can talk without the others behind us being privy to the conversation now, Mister Cormac," she began, "It's, of course, nothing suspicious. Everyone is entitled to some privacy when it comes to their problems."
Since entering Aledine Academy, even going so far as upon entering the general territories surrounding the place of education, there was a feeling—a sense that something was watching. Not the spirits that looked through the flesh, but something more corporeal, more tangible; mortal eyes were peering from afar. As Aoife's abilities developed, so too did her perception of magic around her; information from more senior students and the staff also provided insight: the students were under watch by magical wards placed by the teachers.
Of course, security was a necessity in an environment that taught and raised kids with the ability to flay the flesh off another person's bones with their mind or throw fireballs like some sports player. The wards were obvious precautions in the light of security. They, of course, could always be intercepted and deactivated.
Even then, out of sight of the wards and the prying eyes of observers, Aoife always felt something icy cold run up the back of her neck as long as she stayed in the academy and within areas that weren't too private. Even with the known wards disabled, the unmistakable chill of being observed remained. Intuition and experience told her it wasn't the work of spirits.
It was eerie for a time, that there were next to zero resting moments where she didn't feel peering eyes upon her. But, time went on, as she was never aware of its source, there was no sense in worrying about it actively. Not even in this situation, where there was really no place to go with Desmond that wouldn't raise suspicion or break a code of ethics—like going into one of the restrooms with him.
Besides, she was after all on the side of the rules, right? Aledine Academy wouldn’t have given Aoife the privileges and awarded the freedoms she had if she was going to be a liability that abused her power. In the end, the instructor was no criminal, so this just had to be a situation of some sensitivity.
"Right... Well..." Desmond began to supply at last, "Some students of mine have gotten into some trouble..."
The case was as such:
It appeared that as of late, fledgeling Magestravi have been holding much more magical energy locked up in them than ever before. A few foolish students had the misguided idea that raw power equaled prodigal talent and attempted a necromancy ritual on a recently departed accidental student casualty. Apparently, the original intent was to raise the student as a mere corpse puppet, as the child had somehow managed the complicated ritual with his pet cat at one point.
The ritual was an overwhelming success—with emphasis on overwhelming—and, for reasons unknown, the student came back as a lich of some power.
And quite a deal of rage.
It appears that the recently reanimated ran to the Rainbow Lake, where it's currently gathering flesh for flesh golems, and reanimating once dead mystical beasts. A problem, to say the least.
Normally, guards and trained necromancers would have been sent, and the students would have been expelled. Desmond, their primary teacher, didn't wish for them to be put into the detainment center or expelled yet; after all, no one had been harmed, and—at least according to him—it was a child's job to be curiously stupid.
Aoife could see one of two ways to solve this case: simply obliterate the lich for the safety of the school; or get into contact with it to ascertain why it is so angry, then neutralize it however possible. The latter was significantly more risky, as this could somehow be tied into demonic possession, and her better judgement told her to refuse the job.
The near morbid investigator in her, however, goaded the redhead to follow the case. It was interesting, it had zombies, it even might deal with spirits... Perhaps she should get Ren in on this job for that contingency? Aoife let out a laugh, equal parts to ease her discomfort and because this actually was entertaining. Better judgement be damned, she never wished harm or that magic would be abused, but it did give her things to do and things to learn.
"Sure. I'll do what I can, Mister Cormac," Aoife said. Desmond frowned again, still displeased with being called by his last name. "Besides, I like hunting zombies. There's a detached, highly distilled sense of guilt-free violence associated with their extermination, something that could never be attributed to the murder of humans."
She chuckled. In a way, the investigator was joking; she wasn't some hotblooded action junkie. Never-the-less... "Aoife, I'd be careful with that kind of notion," the instructor wiped some more sweat from his brow, "Aren't you supposed to be more subtle than that?"
Apparently he missed the joke, Aoife sighed, "Were you expecting more profound and wise words? Fates, I'm trying to be an investigator, not a philosopher. They're zombies and their lich controller."
That had been enough, Desmond resigned with a shrug of both of his shoulders. He adjusted his slung arm and dismissed the investigator, "Alright, then. Thank you for taking this case, Aoife." The privacy barrier of wind lowered, and Desmond accordingly resumed the functioning of the ward he deactivated.
With a nod, Aoife turned away and cast a longing look at the door. She wanted to get to the exit, over to the opening ceremony, then right onto the case. Just inside her field of view, the healer with a cup of tea from earlier gave the investigator a glare that seemed to say, 'Oh no you aren't. You're taking Adam with you, out of this Hall. For that, you're staying right here.'
She sighed and resigned to that fate, taking a seat near Miss Mana Poisoning and Mister Spell Backlash.
Komamisa
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Retired Magical Girl
STATUS: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. 8 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Komamisa
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 327 (0.08 / day)
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- Komamisa 11 yrs ago
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8 yrs ago
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Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
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8 yrs ago
"PEAR IS THE PINE KILLER." I got that right, right?
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8 yrs ago
Why can't gravity exist only when it's convenient!?
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8 yrs ago
Motivation is like a cloud. It looks like it's moving slowly from afar, obtainable— but reach close enough to grasp it and it's escaping far faster than you thought.
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8 yrs ago
That existential crisis when you realize the awkwardness of the long moment between your birth and death.
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Most Recent Posts
Just started working on a post. I don't think much of it will have anything to do with anyone else's characters, so we'll see how fast this goes.
Hey, under 45 minutes. That's a record!
@Impy
Ren was briefly mentioned in my post, by the way. Just a minor nod and some encouragement!
Hey, under 45 minutes. That's a record!
@Impy
Ren was briefly mentioned in my post, by the way. Just a minor nod and some encouragement!
To be fair, if everyone sticks to the High-Casual standards and divides themselves into groups, I can reasonably see it being rather controllable. Larger and more well-thought out posts take longer to write, and division into groups mitigates the chaos.
Still, your choice~
Still, your choice~
Spoo said
I'm ejecting myself from this one. It got too big.
One of the reasons I haven't yet devoted any large amount of time toward writing up a character sheet just yet. Still, as Dharc said above: numbers have a tendency to lessen in the transition from IntChk to OOC. Perhaps stop by later and see how many are left?
For a moment as the morning sun’s light shone down, Aoife shivered as a chill ran up her spine. She did not feel cold, the breeze was by no means cool and there was the warm blanket of sunlight covering everything. Instead, there was a momentary innate wrongness upon her, beleaguering her senses.
It was right after she had her small staredown with Lovedaia, though the investigator knew with certainty that this was not a consequence of that engagement.
Aoife was reminded slightly of the ever-present feeling of being watched owed to the instructors’ sight wards placed about the school, but it was all the same different in comparison. The investigator could not put a finger on it, but more than the sensation associated with the wards, it was similar to how it felt when a spirit was staring at her. That feeling of her mortal flesh being transparent and the light of her soul being observed.
She looked about as she continued onward, to see if anyone else was acting peculiarly. No one? This was the second time that she had felt this way that morning, both when in the presence of Adam. Deducting every other factor, she shifted her focus to the young adult in question, he had one eye closed in recoil from the sudden daylight, the other peered at her; his open eye betrayed his dazed state, appearing unfocused, but there wasn’t anything else to remark on. Not like the Adam’s eye was glowing or anything.
“Adam, did you——” she said, then stopped mid-sentence, “Never mind.”
The moment passed, Aoife let the feeling fade out of her mind. It was a mystery that she hadn’t any solid clues to follow up on, that seemed to affect only her for a matter of seconds. No use worrying about something that nothing can be done about.
The rest of the trip to the Hall of Healers was, expectedly and somewhat thankfully, uneventful and quiet. No more students being kicked into them or screaming boys fleeing through the passageways. Just Aoife, Adam, and a scant few straggling students just waking up or lounging about to squeeze in some social time before the Opening Ceremony.
Aoife originally had in mind that the end of her short journey with Adam would take place as the pair had arrived at the Hall of Healers. She would leave him in the capable care of the eponymous healers, perhaps do some magical stretches of her own, and then return to her previously intended destination.
Plans never survive contact with the enemy. Things never really go as intended.
The pair was greeted at the door. Frequent visits for self-inflicted injury sure had their way of taking their toll on a healing staff, their emotions highlighted as one said, “What did you do this time?”
Though it was a question in structure, her easily visible annoyed exhaustion made it more of a statement in tone. Her injured friend was helped into the Hall of Healers, Aoife suppressed a small chuckle at the dejected look he was being given. She began to turn, now ready to leave as he was in the hands of the healers.
“Ah, Miss Aoife, would you care to come inside as well?” the same healer asked, staring directly into the investigator’s eyes. Her body language and expression seemed to speak a bit more, saying something along the lines of ‘You brought him here, he’s your friend. Your responsibility extends to the end of his visit so you can keep him under watch for us!’
“I… Uh…” Aoife stammered and let out a short sigh, unable to think up a good reason to reject the offer, “I suppose I should.”
She pressed into the building, just behind the healer and her new patient.
The Hall of Healers was a simple enough building, its interior barely partitioned by solid walls here and there to section off staff areas, a storage area, and the area for the patients. The latter was divided by simple curtains looming between comfortable beds—the comfort being one of the reasons some lower class students faked illness just to get some shut-eye there—and given that ‘place of healing’ feeling with stocked bedside tables full of medications and healing reagents.
Aoife rarely visited for herself, though she did occasionally stop by to drop off an injured student or a message from a teacher. Sometimes, she also visited in hopes that she might catch a job.
Just through the door, a Healer in the middle of enjoying a spot of tea spoke up upon seeing Adam, "Mister Adam as well as Miss Miataea? Before the opening ceremony's even begun? You two aren't trying to set new records aren't you?"
The investigator perked up as she heard Miataea’s name. She did not have to rack her brain in the slightest to recognize it. Another student infamous for the irresponsibility of experimentation, but never-the-less better known as Aledine’s Star, the Academy’s best hope in the Honor Games and the Student Council Representative. If Miataea was here, then who was going to perform the opening speech in the Opening Ceremony?
"I resent that," said a girl resting on a nearby bed, Aoife bent at the hip to get a view past the healer with Adam. It was Miataea indeed, "and hello uh... Adam? Aran? Sorry I forget."
Not the target of conversation, Aoife’s attention drifted elsewhere. Her gaze shifted not too distantly: one bed over, behind the star student sat a man, one arm sat still in a sling as the other was being used to pat away some sweat on his brows. Their eyes locked for a brief moment and the man blinked, almost literally jumping in his seat as if surprised to see the red-headed Magestrava there. He beckoned her over with a gesture of the hand.
“Pardon me,” Aoife said, and moved towards the man.
Desmond Cormac appeared as neither a sagely Magestrava in flowing robes nor the practical combatant that Aoife looked to be. Instead, he was a diminutive, portly man that looked much like a human colored melon with arms, legs and a head. His breath came in off and long heaves, with the occasional sniffle from a lifetime of allergy problems. Despite his languid appearance and altogether poor health condition—or perhaps because of it—he was quite the instructor for physical reinforcement magic. That his arm was in a sling told the investigator in Aoife that something interesting was about.
And it was this instructor that had another job for Aoife.
Funny how these jobs seemed to come in rapid concession…
It was right after she had her small staredown with Lovedaia, though the investigator knew with certainty that this was not a consequence of that engagement.
Aoife was reminded slightly of the ever-present feeling of being watched owed to the instructors’ sight wards placed about the school, but it was all the same different in comparison. The investigator could not put a finger on it, but more than the sensation associated with the wards, it was similar to how it felt when a spirit was staring at her. That feeling of her mortal flesh being transparent and the light of her soul being observed.
She looked about as she continued onward, to see if anyone else was acting peculiarly. No one? This was the second time that she had felt this way that morning, both when in the presence of Adam. Deducting every other factor, she shifted her focus to the young adult in question, he had one eye closed in recoil from the sudden daylight, the other peered at her; his open eye betrayed his dazed state, appearing unfocused, but there wasn’t anything else to remark on. Not like the Adam’s eye was glowing or anything.
“Adam, did you——” she said, then stopped mid-sentence, “Never mind.”
The moment passed, Aoife let the feeling fade out of her mind. It was a mystery that she hadn’t any solid clues to follow up on, that seemed to affect only her for a matter of seconds. No use worrying about something that nothing can be done about.
The rest of the trip to the Hall of Healers was, expectedly and somewhat thankfully, uneventful and quiet. No more students being kicked into them or screaming boys fleeing through the passageways. Just Aoife, Adam, and a scant few straggling students just waking up or lounging about to squeeze in some social time before the Opening Ceremony.
Aoife originally had in mind that the end of her short journey with Adam would take place as the pair had arrived at the Hall of Healers. She would leave him in the capable care of the eponymous healers, perhaps do some magical stretches of her own, and then return to her previously intended destination.
Plans never survive contact with the enemy. Things never really go as intended.
The pair was greeted at the door. Frequent visits for self-inflicted injury sure had their way of taking their toll on a healing staff, their emotions highlighted as one said, “What did you do this time?”
Though it was a question in structure, her easily visible annoyed exhaustion made it more of a statement in tone. Her injured friend was helped into the Hall of Healers, Aoife suppressed a small chuckle at the dejected look he was being given. She began to turn, now ready to leave as he was in the hands of the healers.
“Ah, Miss Aoife, would you care to come inside as well?” the same healer asked, staring directly into the investigator’s eyes. Her body language and expression seemed to speak a bit more, saying something along the lines of ‘You brought him here, he’s your friend. Your responsibility extends to the end of his visit so you can keep him under watch for us!’
“I… Uh…” Aoife stammered and let out a short sigh, unable to think up a good reason to reject the offer, “I suppose I should.”
She pressed into the building, just behind the healer and her new patient.
The Hall of Healers was a simple enough building, its interior barely partitioned by solid walls here and there to section off staff areas, a storage area, and the area for the patients. The latter was divided by simple curtains looming between comfortable beds—the comfort being one of the reasons some lower class students faked illness just to get some shut-eye there—and given that ‘place of healing’ feeling with stocked bedside tables full of medications and healing reagents.
Aoife rarely visited for herself, though she did occasionally stop by to drop off an injured student or a message from a teacher. Sometimes, she also visited in hopes that she might catch a job.
Just through the door, a Healer in the middle of enjoying a spot of tea spoke up upon seeing Adam, "Mister Adam as well as Miss Miataea? Before the opening ceremony's even begun? You two aren't trying to set new records aren't you?"
The investigator perked up as she heard Miataea’s name. She did not have to rack her brain in the slightest to recognize it. Another student infamous for the irresponsibility of experimentation, but never-the-less better known as Aledine’s Star, the Academy’s best hope in the Honor Games and the Student Council Representative. If Miataea was here, then who was going to perform the opening speech in the Opening Ceremony?
"I resent that," said a girl resting on a nearby bed, Aoife bent at the hip to get a view past the healer with Adam. It was Miataea indeed, "and hello uh... Adam? Aran? Sorry I forget."
Not the target of conversation, Aoife’s attention drifted elsewhere. Her gaze shifted not too distantly: one bed over, behind the star student sat a man, one arm sat still in a sling as the other was being used to pat away some sweat on his brows. Their eyes locked for a brief moment and the man blinked, almost literally jumping in his seat as if surprised to see the red-headed Magestrava there. He beckoned her over with a gesture of the hand.
“Pardon me,” Aoife said, and moved towards the man.
Desmond Cormac appeared as neither a sagely Magestrava in flowing robes nor the practical combatant that Aoife looked to be. Instead, he was a diminutive, portly man that looked much like a human colored melon with arms, legs and a head. His breath came in off and long heaves, with the occasional sniffle from a lifetime of allergy problems. Despite his languid appearance and altogether poor health condition—or perhaps because of it—he was quite the instructor for physical reinforcement magic. That his arm was in a sling told the investigator in Aoife that something interesting was about.
And it was this instructor that had another job for Aoife.
Funny how these jobs seemed to come in rapid concession…
Bah... one week passes and I've already forgotten how to write Aoife posts. This just isn't flowing right, at this time.
Still, I'm determined to get a working, readable post up tonight. Because it's been a week, and I enjoy this RP and this character. It's really just trying to strike up a balance between character development and action, without putting in completely unnecessary contemplation.
And post is up. I stopped where I did to give an opportunity to talk to Aoife before I went into the details of the job. That and the post was already long, lol. I hope that you don't mind me giving my character things to do besides the plot things you have in mind by the way, Hanged. In the case that it is a problem, just do tell me and I'll erase that part of the post.
Still, I'm determined to get a working, readable post up tonight. Because it's been a week, and I enjoy this RP and this character. It's really just trying to strike up a balance between character development and action, without putting in completely unnecessary contemplation.
And post is up. I stopped where I did to give an opportunity to talk to Aoife before I went into the details of the job. That and the post was already long, lol. I hope that you don't mind me giving my character things to do besides the plot things you have in mind by the way, Hanged. In the case that it is a problem, just do tell me and I'll erase that part of the post.
I likely won't have a CS up until around the same time as the OOC. Hmm...
Though, my character does require a bit of pre-RP character interaction, namely for the offline interactions as my character doesn't meet people in person. If anyone is interested in hearing more about that, please send a PM my way. Zombehs, your character might actually be perfect, since mine is a programmer.
Ah, and Inkd, would you prefer I send you the full/true details of my character's offline identity or should I keep that stuff a mystery?
Though, my character does require a bit of pre-RP character interaction, namely for the offline interactions as my character doesn't meet people in person. If anyone is interested in hearing more about that, please send a PM my way. Zombehs, your character might actually be perfect, since mine is a programmer.
Ah, and Inkd, would you prefer I send you the full/true details of my character's offline identity or should I keep that stuff a mystery?
Ah, alright. That knowledge sets me free. Well, free enough. I'll get my post up sometime today, provided I don't fall asleep at/on my keyboard... only had 2 hours.
Und dann, we (Shifter, myself and maybe Hanged) can finally continue! Wunderbar!
Richtig! Managed to not fall asleep, working on my post now.
Pardon the random broken German, been listening to Rammstein since yesterday. It won't be manifesting in my post, I assure you. ...well, maybe loan words.
Und dann, we (Shifter, myself and maybe Hanged) can finally continue! Wunderbar!
Richtig! Managed to not fall asleep, working on my post now.
Pardon the random broken German, been listening to Rammstein since yesterday. It won't be manifesting in my post, I assure you. ...well, maybe loan words.
Ah, how I wish I could bring myself to draw on a regular basis. Well, I won't be taking you up on your kind offer, but I will say that's a nice portfolio!
Imperfectionist said
:) Our characters rather linked, Misa. It would have been rude of me not to come back.
EDIT: Yeah, I couldn't think of what to tell you, so I decided to take a step back at that point, not think about the character or the site for a little while, and see if I could come up with a better way to handle it. :) And I did. Yay.
Yeaaaaah! Since I hadn't seen you around in the past week or so, I actually began preparing for the possibility that I might have to make my own Ouramancer NPC or something. Glad I didn't have to! Veeeery glad.
Well, I'm happy to see you've found your way. Now I can look forward to your post!
Do I sleep? ...good question
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