Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)

[P]  The Witch from the North

Offline Salamander May 17 2020, 12:24 AM
#1
  • Rogue
  • Age: 28
  • Gender: Non-binary
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank: Quartermaster
  • Total Posts: 53
  • Played by: Sbicy
160 Mana · View All Items?
Salamander rarely delivers any type of goods on their own, but when they read the address they couldn't resist the urge to peruse the finer parts of Corzya. The mere idea was laughable, at best, as this place was founded on the backs of slaves and criminals. Still, it was far from their least favorite place to be, and they don't mind the freedom to stretch their legs and take a little stroll with purpose. They toss the small parcel in their hands, catching it in different ways to make a game of it--throwing it forward to rush and snatch it before it hits the path. Doubting that the receiver of said package would enjoy it being covered in disgusting road-dirt, they are sure not to drop it. Whistling a tune between their teeth, there is a spring in their step. If they are lucky, there will be someone there to take the item, allowing them a brief chance at conversation. It paid to have connections wherever one could find them. Literally.

"He comes, he'll go, leave naught behind..." A low voice sings to the other patrons on the street, who look less than bothered at the smooth timbre that spins the lyrics from their lips, "But heartache and woe." The rest they hum beneath their breath, drinking in the scent of warmth and salty air blowing in from the sea. Where the money rests becomes apparent to their eyes, the foundations of dwellings becoming sturdier and sleeker, polished stone gleams as it catches the sunlight, porches decorated with statues and other expensive, useless adornments. An ear flicks at a rather impressive looking lion statue lying on a slab near the gate that surrounds the large home, wondering if they would be able to carry it away fast enough (and if Everett would let them keep it). Shirking the idea, they continue on their walk until they find themselves at the iron fencing that surrounds the property they were seeking.

There was no lock around the gate, allowing them to push it in and snake their long neck around the bars to assess the grounds. They can see a terrace that winds around the house, the soft murmur of voices drifting on the breeze from behind the manor. Intrigued, Salamander ventures forward, tucking their claws behind their back for posterity.

Hopping up the steps to the door, they set the parcel down and give it a loving pat, letting their golden eyes take in the fabulous scenery. Gathering ideas for some neat little decorations they could leave around the ship, the voices grow closer. Long, red ears lift, feet back on the path as they take their sweet time heading back toward the gate--curious if they could potentially catch their attention and engage in light conversation.

A small crowd of three figures rounds the terrace, within its bounds as they speak, yet clearly they are getting ready to say goodbye to a guest judging by their course. The breeze carries a scent that gives them pause, pupils shrinking into thin slits as their gaze settles one of the women. Her hair is dark, skin pale, and her dress is all lace and silk. Something about her... they stare, heart rate accelerating in their chest. Nostrils expand to drink in the air, lips parted, and the recognition manifests in a sharp shudder that shakes them where they stand. Blinking hard against the flood of memories, they feel their eyes water. She was there, when they were torturing them--pumping them full of things that burned and ached and seared. She was there when they cut and sliced and beat, watching with cool, mismatched eyes as impassive as if she was looking at a lamp and not a child.

Their chest grows, struggling to contain the heat of their rapid breath. Blood boils in their veins, anxiety, fear, and rage pushing the animal into their thoughts and bones. Black claws flex, trying their best to count back in their head. It is no use, the memories do not cease.

She still hasn't seen them as their feet curl into the grass and launch their body toward the raised wall of the terrace. In a flash they clear the wall in a single bound, fangs bared and eyes wild as their long, hooked claws seek the soft, vulnerable flesh over her ribs.
Offline Vivica May 17 2020, 1:05 AM
#2
  • Svalbard
  • Age: 36
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: Magister
  • Total Posts: 25
  • Played by: Isilzheha
665 Mana · View All Items?
The witch had forgotten what it felt like to have time to truly relax. It was a difficult thing to come by, especially in the past two years with the return of the child Queen to claim the throne. One that was rightfully hers, of course, but with her came a haunting and overarching shadow of the Unclaim. Something within, perhaps, or it just was the nature of the vampiric woman having grown in the harshness of it all. Vivica still had yet to figure it out entirely, the Queen not one to part with such personal knowledge in the detail she was interested in from a removed and academic sort of approach. That’s what a lot of the world was viewed as in the bi-colored eyes of the Magister: cogs in a machine, tools to be used. All of it was crucial to what the Veil did as well as her work within the Academy. Vivica didn’t always get downtime, so she made sure to take advantage whenever it presented itself.

In this case an invitation from her sister took her through the twisting and winding halls beneath Stadarfell, the many teleportation circles etched in the center of their rooms a seeming carbon copy of the last. Each of them were known by heart, the witch having placed them herself with Minerva at her side when the coven began to spread its roots in the capital of Svalbard. Second nature, as many things were for the woman who appeared on the other side in the home of her older sister. Oh, they talked for hours, candle wax having to be renewed several times over. Cool, salty seabreeze rolled in from the open shutters, causing the flames to flicker as they refused to die out. Gibrantt had its more ostentatious areas, as anywhere in Gil’ead tended to have, in comparison to the ones shrouded in despair and disease. An island of pirates, though there were a vast many who sat quite prettily on their piles of gold. Vivica managed to catch up with her sister, until the sun was rolling down towards the horizon and the shadows were growing long.

Even in moments of relaxation business reared its ugly head. Vivica had been stopped by a familiar eximius, Avra, who was adamant at bringing the human along with her down the path. “Ah, Zephyros is ill again? I thought the potion last time had done the trick,” Vivica said, a hand alighting upon the shorter exi’s bicep. Minerva overhead, and together they ventured along with Avra shaking her head in dismissal. ‘Not sick anymore, thanks to you two,’ the green-eyed woman said, near breathless from her rushing over. ‘Nothin’ bad, really! We heard you was here and we just wanted to show some appreciation.’ Vivica tipped her chin at that, the crease of concern between her eyebrows smoothing out. “But of course, dear, though there is something I have yet to do. It won’t take long, I insist that you two go ahead for now.

Indeed there was one last thing to do before she would leave Gibrantt. Now, however, that would have to shift to whenever she was done accepting the gratitude of those she helped here. Her and Minerva, more specifically, and none of them spoke of the price Avra had paid for that help. Typically it wasn’t a very good dinner conversation piece. Vivica patted her, guiding her by the elbow as Minerve took her by the shoulder. They were already lost in their own form of catching up, though they didn’t make it very far. Vivica didn’t either, especially not with the surge of a presence beside her. Over her, launching a large body atop the rising stone wall to try and drop down with arms swinging wildly. Vivica didn’t see all of that, not at first. She saw red, and lots of it, and heard the animalistic snarl before instinct dragged magic from the earth at her whim. It bent and pulled, sliding up into a shield that deflected most of the arm. The other still swung madly, adrenaline kicking into place as Vivica’s stance widened. Claws raked along her side before they, too, were shoved away. The fabric of the dress tore, but Vivica didn’t feel it. Not yet.

The figure stood just a few inches taller than she, muscles rippling and covered in scales. Sharp teeth were bared, almost gnashing, and the plated horns curling from their forehead placed them even taller. An eximius, Vivica recognized, and had she not seen the horns in the seconds of stillness between them she might have mistaken them for a pirate attempting a poor excuse of a mugging. There was murder in those gold and black eyes, Vivica knowing well the look that pierced against her through the ripple of magic holding the much stronger eximius at bay. She glared back, though said nothing, as she sifted through her memories to find just why they were so strikingly familiar. Who they were was another story entirely. Vivica didn’t dwell on it for too long, right hand lifting in a silent bidding of the power to hopefully crash into her assailant’s chest. It would twist and wind its way throughout their body, sinking metaphysical fingers down into the white of their bone to collapse it upon itself. Vivica’s wrist turned with the effort of it, the concentration, and hoped the eximus could feel her skeleton folding.
Offline Salamander May 17 2020, 1:30 AM
#3
  • Rogue
  • Age: 28
  • Gender: Non-binary
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank: Quartermaster
  • Total Posts: 53
  • Played by: Sbicy
160 Mana · View All Items?
Salamander is all magma and seething rage. Their lips are pulled back over their fangs, jaws parted as their hand locks around the stone of the terrace wall, cracking its surface as they sail over the top. Their other hand is cocked back, claws extended and fingers flex, eyes nearly consumed with the golden glow when the very tips of their talons scrape through her dress. This vile woman is all they can see, all they can smell, all they can hear, and the faint, faint tang of her blood hitting the air is enough to send them further into their frenzy. This woman was responsible, in some way or form, for their suffering. Her eyes do not seem to recognize them with the way her brows furrow, but Salamander can't even bring a coherent thought into their mind right now, let alone the ability to care if she knew her attacker.

A deep, long-forgotten drive to hurt rises like smoke, filling every crevice of their being. It blocks control, acting only on the purest of adrenaline and anger, the rest of the world nonexistent save for their single, human target.

The air crackles with magic, shoving them back and pressing them against the low terrace wall. Shouts of alarm finally rise as the witch lifts her hand, pressure mounting as her fingers twist. Breath is forced from their lungs, which contract under the squeezing of their bones. Delicate ribs crack under the weight of the magic forcing them together, sending flares of white-hot pain searing with each labored choke.

Still, they won't let her get the best of them so easily. Bestial instinct drives their tail out, spikes flat as the blunt extremity makes contact with her thigh hard enough to leave a considerable bruise and shock the muscles into numbness. The magic breaks with her concentration, and in that same moment they drive their body forward to shove a hard, plated shoulder into her stomach, weight pushing them both toward the edge of the wall to trap her against it--claws seeking to rip and cling into the skin of her back as their snarl tears through their chest.
Offline Vivica May 17 2020, 2:05 AM
#4
  • Svalbard
  • Age: 36
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: Magister
  • Total Posts: 25
  • Played by: Isilzheha
665 Mana · View All Items?
She's seen hatred before, the rage that burned and seared in the wake of it when it found a focus. Vivica had faced the most wretched of beasts before, both in man and the creatures who knew nothing else but the hunt. There had been spit upon her face, terror in the rolling eyes of the depraved who were trapped down upon the tables of the Academy. Vivica had overseen many of the Projects herself, in smaller doses alongside the other Magisters she considered colleagues. Most of them were old and decrepit now, or otherwise long since dead or buried. Not Vivica. She was unphased by the furious gleam in the eximius' eyes; that look she knew so well. That anguish and fury fueled many of The Other who wished nothing more than to see her dead. Vivica faced it now with detached curiosity, just of who this one was, and irritation of her own. A flicker of trepidation, for the human witch knew she couldn't dream of going toe to toe with one of many she had helped achieve the superhuman strength that could end her life in a single well-placed strike.

Something warm and wet began to mat the left side of her torso, fabric torn and shredded hanging off in pieces. Her magic sent the horned eximius backwards to the wall of the larger terrace she had been ready to leave. Minerva and Avra had since departed, rushing down now with the woman's safety in mind. Vivica could feel her sister's aura fade away, though she knew she would return and bring with her the ones some onlookers called out for desperately. There was no delight or cruel fascination felt with the audible crack of bone when the draconic eximius' ribs succumbed to the push and crinkle of power. It was a means to an end, yet Vivica did not see that end just yet when the blunt tail swung towards her. She grunted with the impact, the force of it bruising with the pain that flared to life, and the witch lost her concentration.

Exasperation became clipped short as Vivica reasserted her stance, a hand finding the wound at her side and coming away wet. Her fingers rolled together as she started to correct herself when the formidable stranger surged forward. A heel kicked against the wall, sending their broad shoulder into Vivica's abdomen and slamming her back into the opposite one with arms wrapped around in a facsimile of a tender hug. It was full of sharp claws that pricked against her skin, breath forced from her lungs as her head jarred. Vivica caught it before her skull knocked into it, teeth clenched now. She felt the vibration of the growl, so feral and very fitting for The Other who attacked her.

Vivica thought she might recognize them now.

It came in an odd moment of clarity as her chest heaved with burning breath where it had expelled. Once blunt teeth had been quick to sharpen and elongate, so many needles secured to the arms that attempted to thrash against the vitriol. It was a concoction that deviated from the norm, Vivica and only one other setting aside their own personal projects to try and find symbiosis in the blood of dragons with the most compatible of the captured bunch. Most of them were children. They took to it better than any of the others. These thoughts flashed within her mind in a split second of recollection, Vivica knowing now the root of the eximius' determination. Still she felt nothing but the desire to give space between them. The skirt lifted, constricting in a way, and Vivica slid out the dagger from its holster around her thigh. With a wordless outcry, expelling her own frustration, Vivica angled it towards the broken ribs. Once or twice she thrust it, though she wasn't sure if she made it or not.

Vivica wasn't paying attention to the snarling or the howling of the other who approached her like a rabid, wild animal. Magic flowed forth once more, another temporary shield, though it served to shove the eximius away even if her dagger had not struck true. This one was covered in scales, the blade could have glanced off. They were away from her now, Vivica side-stepping into the open with mismatched eyes darkening with rapidly growing ill-intent. "Maybe it is too late to talk this out?" she huffed, the dagger slicing into the fabric of her skirt where it fit snugly towards her knees. It ripped loudly with the energy behind it, Vivica stooping to cut and pull simultaneously until her legs were freed for movement. Modesty mattered little when she felt her life was in the precarious balance. The fabric dropped to the ground, her gaze never leaving her attacker.
Offline Salamander May 18 2020, 1:37 AM
#5
  • Rogue
  • Age: 28
  • Gender: Non-binary
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank: Quartermaster
  • Total Posts: 53
  • Played by: Sbicy
160 Mana · View All Items?
Nothing brings about a chill like the blankness in the witch's stare, impassive to their presence and seeing them as more animal than human. They were just another screaming child, another unwilling participant begging to be free. The wheel turns and the cogs move, but she cared not for those that were crushed beneath them. This fuels their rage, teeth gnashing, claws looking for soft flesh to rip. How did they think that they were invincible, being this easy to break? Her magic was there to aid her, but all it would take it one good hit and they could crack her skull open with a single strike. That would be too easy. Too quick. She would never, ever know the suffering they experienced; the suffering she caused. They want her to know it, they want her to share in their pain by using the body that was forced upon them like so many others.

Their shoulder slams into her gut, forcing her back against the stone wall and driving the precious breath from her lungs. Their own nostrils are flaring, heaving great gusts of air to expel as heated snarls. Claws find purchase through her dress, cutting clean through the skin like a hot, hot knife. Her leg comes up, her other bracing against the wall so they don't tip backward, and they barely catch the sound of metal sliding from leather before pain jolts through their right side.

A gasp is torn from their lungs, the knife catching against hard scales and thick skin before it finds a softer point in the crevice of their armpit. It sinks in, not very far, but enough to jar the broken ribs on that side and add onto the searing pain. It distracts them for the moment she needs to pull up another shield, forcing them back. Their clawed toes flex against the ground, pushing against the ward so they don't go too far.

Golden eyes gleam when she takes the knife to her skirt, the mere sound of her voice sending the blood boiling in their veins. The air shifts around them, filling with energy as their tail thwacks against the stone and the spines all stand rigid at once. A low hum of crackling static fills the air, electricity sparking between each spike as it lights up along their spine. In seconds it is surging around their horns, most active around the tips where the bronze acts as a conductor to focus it. Rearing back, hands curled into fists, they thrust their head forward and their jaws part, a bolt of lightning cracking through the air and directly towards her--a boom of thunder sounding in its wake.
Offline Vivica May 22 2020, 12:28 AM
#6
  • Svalbard
  • Age: 36
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: Magister
  • Total Posts: 25
  • Played by: Isilzheha
665 Mana · View All Items?
She was breathing hard now, nonplussed and only a touch out of sorts when she finally forced space between her and the much stronger horned devil who attacked her. Pain burned where the claws tore skin through her dress, both at her side and over her shoulder blades, but it became a center of focus. No matter how much she bled or for how long she would end this, or die trying. Vivica hadn't been bested before in such a way, but in her many years alive she knew never to let that elevate her above mortality. She could lengthen her life through rituals, restore her vitality with magic and potions, but she still bleeds like all the rest of the mortals. She could still die and she knew that. It showed on her face no matter the ease with which she hid her emotions, her bi-colored eyes honed in on the source of her potential destruction with a vague sense of fascination. Like one might regard a wounded dog they wished to help, or an insect pinned beneath glass, yet ultimately knew their fate.

Vivica watched the swaying of their tail, her words glancing off as easily as they had risen from her painted lips. She still held the dagger like an extension of herself, knowing full well it would only help so much when it had taken a few tries to find a weakness in that hide. Then the spines flicked to attention like quills, Vivica's nostrils flaring as her chin tilted up, and she felt the prickle of a different sort of magic along her skin. It raised the hairs at the back of her neck and along her arms, Vivica caught in the display for just a second too long with the way electricity bounced between the eximius' spine to collect at their horns. That was the only warning she got, only a partial shield to counter it as she stumbled back with the initial impact gusted into her before she tensed in place.

The electricity tore through her, fizzling and popping with the thunderous boom of noise that rang in her ears. Vivica cried out with the immediate surge of pain, muscles locked tight as the shout of pain twisted into something almost animalistic on its own. Her lips pulled back with the burst of anger that clashed with the agony, teeth bared as they clenched tight enough to send pulses of an ache through her skull. The static charge hung all around her, hair rising where the strands had come loose, and it was clear in the narrowing of her eyes just how angry she was. Immediately her power snapped against the offending magic, siphoning it down within, making it her own to dissipate into obscurity. Her gaze never left the eximius who slighted her, assumed to want her dead, and that blasé visage dropped. She felt no hatred for the Other, Vivica staring down a threat that was becoming more than a nuisance.

The witch didn't even have the time to find it within herself to be impressed at the display of raw energy coming from the snapping of the eximius' spines, for it was not something that had been granted by her own hands. Her stance widened again, the Magister ignoring the stench of burnt hair and cloth, and with channeled frustration in a single flick of her wrist the ground trembled beneath the draconic being's feet. It started to ice over, a noticeable drop in temperature surrounding the space as several spears of it climbed into existence. Some were thicker than others, all of them slithering like snakes as they aimed to pierce the thick scales and hide of the eximius. A few traveled even higher than their legs and abdomen, cutting harsh angles towards their throat and the wound her blade had caused.
Offline Salamander May 23 2020, 12:35 AM
#7
  • Rogue
  • Age: 28
  • Gender: Non-binary
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank: Quartermaster
  • Total Posts: 53
  • Played by: Sbicy
160 Mana · View All Items?
Salamander is unable to process the stoic nature of her gaze, though the realization would have only infuriated them more. It was cavalier of her, in a way, and were they any other they would have found pause in this behavior. How could one faced with the might of an enraged eximius stare them down with such impassive interest? It did not occur to the dragon that she might be far more powerful than her peers before they attacked, and they would only discover just how deep her abilities ran in the aftermath.

Static pops from the quick scrape of their tail against the stone, igniting a pulse of electricity that leaps from their spine. The hum of energy fills the air, shattered by the thunderous clap when it is channeled. Their scales feel the power of the ability, tingling and itching across the soft, unprotected places. A bright flash of light temporarily blinds them, forced to stop the flow of electricity due to the unbearable heat of it scorching their throat. Pupils contract and widen against the blur in their vision, soon focusing on the frazzled and singed form of the witch. It didn't do the damage they hoped, but the change in her expression elicits a sharp, excited shiver alone their spine.

Before they can act, the ground around their feet grows immediately cold. The spears of ice jut up from below, cold enough to burn as they scratch and tear at their legs, abdomen, and aim for their throat. Blood pours from the wounds, even the toughness of their flesh giving way to the ice. A hand bats away a spear aiming for their eye, shattering it with another that goes for the neck. With a snarl, they flex and break from the seal they are in, legs numb as they stumble forward and seek to grab the witch by the front of her dress.

Lips peeling back over their fangs, they shoot forward to bury their teeth into her shoulder, looking to tear out a chunk and end this now.
Offline Vivica Jun 8 2020, 6:48 PM
#8
  • Svalbard
  • Age: 36
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: Magister
  • Total Posts: 25
  • Played by: Isilzheha
665 Mana · View All Items?
This had gone on long enough.

Vivica was outmatched in physical strength and the speed the draconic eximius possessed, and at the beginning she had been content to end it as quickly as possible. The more the scaled eximius relentlessly attacked her, Madness wild in their dark eyes that had once showed more gold than it did now, the witch started to feel something else. Something far more vicious. It wasn’t often Vivica allowed such unpredictable emotions to rise within her. She’d been alive for far too long and had experienced far too many close encounters to allow for such unhinged behavior. It was calm and quiet within her in this instance, even as the once nonchalant visage was ripped away by the clear sign the eximius wished to see her burn. It was vicious and sinister, Vivica no longer toying with the encounter especially when the enraged eximius continued to fight through her magic. She could have pulled the entire island down around the Other, but Vivica knew such a power would only cause more problems than were already present.

The witch felt the pain and the blood soaking into her dress and smearing across her skin, blade still in hand but no longer would it be used for what it had once been intended to be used. Such feelings fueled her anger and her contempt for the one that had decided to be so bold as to attack her. Openly on the streets of Gibrantt, alongside the homes and terraces of those who had chosen to live here. Pirates and thieves, murderers and slavers - all of them played their roles and Vivica knew such a blatant attack on another with no known cause would not be received well. Minerva will have told the Officers by now, certainly keeping some details to herself to save time and focus. The witch felt the wilds rising up within her as the ice formed beneath the eximius’ feet. The untamed and the merciless Unclaim where Vivica had lived alongside her sister added a more pointed look to the witch’s mismatched eyes where once she would have been composed. Subdued by politics and centuries of learning how to play this game of life. There was none of that here, not for a moment, as Vivica hoped the ice would spear into the eximius.

Instead they broke it. A hand swiped towards it, numb legs wobbling as their tail lashed behind them. Vivica couldn’t hope to move in time as they rushed. All she could do was brace herself, and that she did even with the aching of muscle where the Other had stricken her leg with their tail. She was yanked forward just as sharp teeth lashed forward in an animalistic display. They sank into the meat of her shoulder, an uncomfortable grinding and painful pressure reverberating through the bone they jarred against. Vivica could have ripped the bones from the eximius’ body. She could have boiled their blood and sloughed the flesh from their body. She did none of those things even with the agony of it, Vivica removing herself from it and instead her free hand rose to place a palm against the Other’s head. There were shouts coming from down the path now, the witch gritting her teeth as the eximius tried to tear themself back and go for the throat this time. Her blood smeared itself across the draconic being’s lips in a gory mess. Vivica shoved intense focus into the eximius’ head. Through their skull and sinking into their brain a slew of disorienting images flickered in rapid succession.

Her fingers curled into the dark hair with such ferocity it pulled at the scalp, the magic manifesting as amplified voices now to ring in their ears. Vivica released them as they stumbled back, bombarded by a myriad of vicious sounds that gave the Officers the small window of time to capture them. They were brought down to their knees with arms twisted behind their back, shackles clicking ominously into place and the witch held a hand to the freshest wound. They were rough with them, one of them an eximius themselves, and the manacles would be strong enough to contain the one who attempted to shake them off to no avail. Still that hatred burned in their eyes, pupils blown wide and narrowing as they focused upon the witch who straightened herself out. The Other was knocked in the head by a gauntleted hand, Vivica approaching once she’d found her own footing. “It is not their fault, the Madness seems to have triggered an episode. Please, be gentle,” she said, a false sense of pity catching the attention of the Officer.

Vivica was looking to the eximius now, concern evident in her features though there was plenty of thoughts racing now. Minerva stepped around the Officers with little regard, the skirt of her long dress pulling over the disrupted terrain as hands clasped in front of her. She said nothing, however, and did nothing. Simply stood at her younger sister’s side to observe for now. ‘What should we do with ‘em then, milady?’ one of them asked, still pushing down on the eximius’ shoulder to keep them in place. They’d stopped struggling so much, though their lip still curled to show teeth stained with witch’s blood. Vivica took another step forward, then another, until she could look upon the face of the one who had made an attempt on her life and hold their gaze.

Escort them from Gibrantt. Let whoever they have to collect them do just that,” she said after some posturing of consideration, “if they have anyone at all.

Does anyone care enough to save you?




Days passed and the wounds had long since been healed. Eventually the scar tissue would fade and there would be nothing left to mark that the witch had been attacked. Now she sat with her sister, alchemy table between them and darkness in every corner of the room. The only light came from the candles that flickered in the breeze of the open windows. The witches need not say a thing, not yet, as they set up the ritual before them. Incense burned and purified, filling the interior of the chamber where it didn’t get swept away. Vivica had collected the draconic eximius’ blood from the blade and the shards of ice she had created, all of it poured now into the bottom of the basin. With it dripped her own blood from a sliced palm, Vivica squeezing her fingers together into a fist to let it trickle down and mix. Minerva set in the onyx, a specific pattern to it while mindful to not touch the collection of blood, and Vivica started to twist the energy it brought into her favor. Protection for herself and her sister, while it corrupted in the midst of it.

She’d gone over information assumed to be long gone, preserved from the Projects for the Magisters to study from, and found exactly what she’d hoped to find. It was not a name, no, but it was plenty of other observational information that would facilitate the curse for the one who had slighted the witch. Had it been an insult in passing or a small voiced issue Vivica would have easily brushed it off, but an attempt had been made to end her. Death for witches was not always finite lest the one who caused it knew what they were doing, but it became a matter of principle at that end. Vivica could not allow another to roam about Gil’ead knowing they would rather see her dead than simply ignore her presence. If given the opportunity no doubt they would try it again. She’d dealt with aggressive and violently sorrowful sorts before, and none of them she’d come in direct contact with still lived. With the blood swirling together, Vivica read the spliced incantation from her spellbook.

A far more direct and angered approach would come of it with the way the witch focused her malice. The breeze started to still the more she chanted, Minerva silent and only offering her support of magic where it was accepted so as to not interfere. It bolstered it, the candles threatening to snuff themselves out when a different sort of force worked its way around the room. Powerful words sat at the core of it, a lock of sorts with a key that could not be so easily found. Vivica had worked on it for quite some time, finding as many convoluted paths as she could to create a tangled web of energy that would be difficult to navigate. Such was the nature of a crossed witch. The curse would drift, find its mark where they stayed at sea, and the eximius would suffer until the very end.