OOCI'm so sorry this has taken so long! Do let me know if the time isn't workable and I'll change it forthwith 
. I leave it to your discretion whether you want to RP an interview with Elena or not.
Timestamp: 6th Day of Autumn, 513 A.V.
Location: Elena Lariat's Estate
A bright and shining day in the celestial city, the air full of summer on the turn. A faint nip in the air and a strengthening of the breezes sweeping in from the higher mountains of the Unforgiving set the fadeong trees in grand array along Lhavit’s boulevards all ashimmer with a million million fluttering leaves.
A faint smile danced on Alses’ lips as she beheld the glimmering, fitful dance, idly admiring the play of colour and light.
There was laughter, too – high and pure – drifting from Alluvion Academy, along with the occasional high-pitched squeal. It had worried her, the first few times she’d heard the sound of children at play – that intermittent shriek sounded, to her ears, like someone doing something inappropriate to a pig, but she’d been assured on several occasions it was simply the sound of youthful high spirits.
Hmm.
No matter, no matter – there were weightier matters afoot! Absently, she patted the bundle beside her, just checking that it was still there, all present and correct. Two skyglass glaives, glittering inside their wrappings, intended for some of the Shinya Masters. They were to be magecrafted with preternatural sharpness and strength, and at least one of them would provide her, most usefully, with a test of Marina Agarmand’s skills as a magesmith.
That the spectral apparition had spoken of guarded secrets and processes of the craft at their first meeting would seem to indicate she was a fellow practitioner, but as Alses knew only too well, looks could be deceptive. Her aura, too, seemed to bear it out – insofar as she believed what she was saying, but when it came to magecraft, Alses was precious and paranoid about her talents.
‘Transfer knowledge on your own terms or not at all,’ that was her motto; it had served her well so far. If – if – Marina showed aptitude, skill, knowledge and a willingness to cooperate, perhaps that could pave the way for something more permanent. Apprentices in magecraft were, after all, useful; they slashed the time-consuming aspect of the crafting, making them valuable resources, when carefully managed.
All of this would be, then, a sort of extended test. Elena Lariat, the shameless sorceress who just so happened to be wealthier than Xyna and more well-connected than Viratas, was to be the first hurdle. Get past the mercurial lady of the estate and that’d be a signal triumph – especially for a ghost who had no corporeal body to tempt her.
Of course, there was always the possibility that an assistant wouldn’t rate an interview – but then again, it was assisting in the Overflowing Phial, her ladyship’s pride and joy, her own personal laboratory. Who could fathom Elena Lariat's unusual thought processes?
Either way, it was really not too much trouble for her – either she got an assistant or she didn’t.
With a satisfied sigh, Alses stretched herself out more comfortably on the low skyglass bench near the wide-open gates of Elena Lariat’s estate, enjoying the cool of the morning and the shimmering, scintillating dance of Syna’s fresh, lemon-yellow rays across the clear expanse of the Unforgiving. The clouds were few and far between today, even below Lhavit, where mists and vapours normally rose and were corralled and herded to continually reinforce the cloud layer; rather than appearing to float on cloud, today the vast granite peaks that supported the skyglass crown were easily visible, even from below.
She had time – all the time in the world, for once, and Marina, too, had all the time the turning of the world could afford. No worries about inconvenient mortality, or the frailty of most mortals – the ghost would last just as long as she would, and perhaps longer, given the insubstantiality of most physical hazards.
It was really quite pleasant on the bench, idly watching the world go by and contemplating the pennons that snapped and raced from the spires and minarets of Elena Lariat’s mansion, eyes idly tracking the padding motions of the staff as they cleaned up from the last night’s entertainment and made ready for the coming evening’s festivities.
Well, it was an odds-on bet that was what they were doing, anyway – the Lariat estate could generally be relied on to echo with the roar of fireworks and the lilting ripple of drink-fuelled laughter.
Idly, Alses began to contemplate who, exactly, Marina had found to…to…possess, that was the word. Apparently, ghosts had no real influence on the physical world without taking residence in a body. She had to confess, in the privacy of her humming, singing brain, a little shiver of uncertainty and unease at that particular facet of Marina’s race – but then, no-one was perfect, not even the Ethaefal.
That, at least, she knew better than most of the population. Sel’ira was right – Lhavit always did have unrealistic expectations of the celestial race.
No matter, no matter – there were enough people she counted as her friends, now, not to have to keep up the façade all the time. Perfection could drop around Chiona, Tian, Sel’ira and a few others, scattered around the city; they saw past the shine by dint of long association.
The city bells began to chime the ninth bell of the morning, waking Alses from her dreaming stupor. The Zeltivan ghost should be arriving soon – or she would be, if she knew what was good for her.
‘Punctuality is the politeness of princes,’ a stray memory whispered, bringing a faint smile to the Ethaefal’s lips. Princes and emperors had been blasted into the pages of history by the Valterrian, but it was amazing how many of the old expressions had sailed through the catastrophe more-or-less unscathed.
Time to see, then, if Marina would be a princess or a pauper.
. I leave it to your discretion whether you want to RP an interview with Elena or not.Timestamp: 6th Day of Autumn, 513 A.V.
Location: Elena Lariat's Estate
A bright and shining day in the celestial city, the air full of summer on the turn. A faint nip in the air and a strengthening of the breezes sweeping in from the higher mountains of the Unforgiving set the fadeong trees in grand array along Lhavit’s boulevards all ashimmer with a million million fluttering leaves.
A faint smile danced on Alses’ lips as she beheld the glimmering, fitful dance, idly admiring the play of colour and light.
There was laughter, too – high and pure – drifting from Alluvion Academy, along with the occasional high-pitched squeal. It had worried her, the first few times she’d heard the sound of children at play – that intermittent shriek sounded, to her ears, like someone doing something inappropriate to a pig, but she’d been assured on several occasions it was simply the sound of youthful high spirits.
Hmm.
No matter, no matter – there were weightier matters afoot! Absently, she patted the bundle beside her, just checking that it was still there, all present and correct. Two skyglass glaives, glittering inside their wrappings, intended for some of the Shinya Masters. They were to be magecrafted with preternatural sharpness and strength, and at least one of them would provide her, most usefully, with a test of Marina Agarmand’s skills as a magesmith.
That the spectral apparition had spoken of guarded secrets and processes of the craft at their first meeting would seem to indicate she was a fellow practitioner, but as Alses knew only too well, looks could be deceptive. Her aura, too, seemed to bear it out – insofar as she believed what she was saying, but when it came to magecraft, Alses was precious and paranoid about her talents.
‘Transfer knowledge on your own terms or not at all,’ that was her motto; it had served her well so far. If – if – Marina showed aptitude, skill, knowledge and a willingness to cooperate, perhaps that could pave the way for something more permanent. Apprentices in magecraft were, after all, useful; they slashed the time-consuming aspect of the crafting, making them valuable resources, when carefully managed.
All of this would be, then, a sort of extended test. Elena Lariat, the shameless sorceress who just so happened to be wealthier than Xyna and more well-connected than Viratas, was to be the first hurdle. Get past the mercurial lady of the estate and that’d be a signal triumph – especially for a ghost who had no corporeal body to tempt her.
Of course, there was always the possibility that an assistant wouldn’t rate an interview – but then again, it was assisting in the Overflowing Phial, her ladyship’s pride and joy, her own personal laboratory. Who could fathom Elena Lariat's unusual thought processes?
Either way, it was really not too much trouble for her – either she got an assistant or she didn’t.
With a satisfied sigh, Alses stretched herself out more comfortably on the low skyglass bench near the wide-open gates of Elena Lariat’s estate, enjoying the cool of the morning and the shimmering, scintillating dance of Syna’s fresh, lemon-yellow rays across the clear expanse of the Unforgiving. The clouds were few and far between today, even below Lhavit, where mists and vapours normally rose and were corralled and herded to continually reinforce the cloud layer; rather than appearing to float on cloud, today the vast granite peaks that supported the skyglass crown were easily visible, even from below.
She had time – all the time in the world, for once, and Marina, too, had all the time the turning of the world could afford. No worries about inconvenient mortality, or the frailty of most mortals – the ghost would last just as long as she would, and perhaps longer, given the insubstantiality of most physical hazards.
It was really quite pleasant on the bench, idly watching the world go by and contemplating the pennons that snapped and raced from the spires and minarets of Elena Lariat’s mansion, eyes idly tracking the padding motions of the staff as they cleaned up from the last night’s entertainment and made ready for the coming evening’s festivities.
Well, it was an odds-on bet that was what they were doing, anyway – the Lariat estate could generally be relied on to echo with the roar of fireworks and the lilting ripple of drink-fuelled laughter.
Idly, Alses began to contemplate who, exactly, Marina had found to…to…possess, that was the word. Apparently, ghosts had no real influence on the physical world without taking residence in a body. She had to confess, in the privacy of her humming, singing brain, a little shiver of uncertainty and unease at that particular facet of Marina’s race – but then, no-one was perfect, not even the Ethaefal.
That, at least, she knew better than most of the population. Sel’ira was right – Lhavit always did have unrealistic expectations of the celestial race.
No matter, no matter – there were enough people she counted as her friends, now, not to have to keep up the façade all the time. Perfection could drop around Chiona, Tian, Sel’ira and a few others, scattered around the city; they saw past the shine by dint of long association.
The city bells began to chime the ninth bell of the morning, waking Alses from her dreaming stupor. The Zeltivan ghost should be arriving soon – or she would be, if she knew what was good for her.
‘Punctuality is the politeness of princes,’ a stray memory whispered, bringing a faint smile to the Ethaefal’s lips. Princes and emperors had been blasted into the pages of history by the Valterrian, but it was amazing how many of the old expressions had sailed through the catastrophe more-or-less unscathed.
Time to see, then, if Marina would be a princess or a pauper.
