Eternity RPC Board
01-20-2019, 06:18 PM
Having been just as happy to let Nevina navigate this conversation, Elke felt herself visibly tense under the scrutiny of the witch’s - Millie’s - attention. Why couldn’t Nevina simply just respond on her behalf? That would have been fine - preferred, even!
But no, Millie had called on Elke to speak for herself, and Nevina had put up no argument against this idea.
“I’m Elke Korraidhin,” she answered, half expecting a tremor in her voice and feeling quite pleasantly surprised by the steady tone she was able to maintain. Perhaps it was Nevina’s familiarity with this figure, making up for in disdain what it lacked in friendliness, that afforded her the ability to speak with some semblance of confidence. The two women clearly had a past, and although it didn’t seem to be the best one, the mageling could only assume that her tutor would have already had them fleeing in the direction from which they’d arrived if this Millie was someone too powerful to contend with.
It was a better thought than the consideration that they were simply too far into a trap of the witch’s to back out now.
“Nevina has agreed to take me under her guidance to learn more about magic.”
Elke’s eyes drifted beyond the woollen slope of Millie’s shoulders to a triad of cream-colored candles of various shapes and sizes, all lit and perched on the edge of a wooden shelf. One was a tall, thin taper that had bowed over from heat and age like an aged headmaster Elke had once known. The second was a fat pillar whose top had cooked down into a crater of liquid wax, its flame barely visible as it peeked over the edge of the cradle it had cooked for itself. The third was a stump of a dwindling tea light, its flame sickly soldiering on despite the way its wax and wick neared the end of their existence. The drippings from the three of them had pooled together and now hung in a forked stalactite like a dismembered crow’s foot from the edge of the shelf, all knobbles and claws.
There were many things in this place that Elke didn’t like, and as her eyes traveled around the room, lighting on minute detail after unsettling minute detail, she identified even more. But the ominous shape of the wax drippings made her particularly anxious.
She swallowed, tasting as much as smelling the fresh blood notes in the air in this place.
A few clusters of herbs, tied into bouquets and hanging inverted on a line of string between two of the exposed ceiling joists, looked familiar, like something that Elke’s father might have used in crafting poultices and herbal soaks for his patients. She found some slight comfort in that - that not everything here might be inherently bad.
But for those few clusters of herbs, there were a dozen other knick knacks and minutiae that screamed “inherently bad” from their mere presence.
Elke wasn’t sure what else to say. She considered explaining that the magic she used was not of the black variety lest the crone try and convince her to come study under her tutelage instead, but she didn’t want to offend the witch and decided that best a point to raise only if the witch made her pitch first.
She considered mentioning which academy she was from, but that seemed hardly more than a bragging right now. What did a witch care about the prestige of her academics? Did witches even study their crafts in schools?
Buttering up the witch was an option, but that could also land her in tomorrow’s stew.
Unable to come up with a good option, she simply looked to Nevina and hoped that her expression conveyed the request for help that she was attempting.
But no, Millie had called on Elke to speak for herself, and Nevina had put up no argument against this idea.
“I’m Elke Korraidhin,” she answered, half expecting a tremor in her voice and feeling quite pleasantly surprised by the steady tone she was able to maintain. Perhaps it was Nevina’s familiarity with this figure, making up for in disdain what it lacked in friendliness, that afforded her the ability to speak with some semblance of confidence. The two women clearly had a past, and although it didn’t seem to be the best one, the mageling could only assume that her tutor would have already had them fleeing in the direction from which they’d arrived if this Millie was someone too powerful to contend with.
It was a better thought than the consideration that they were simply too far into a trap of the witch’s to back out now.
“Nevina has agreed to take me under her guidance to learn more about magic.”
Elke’s eyes drifted beyond the woollen slope of Millie’s shoulders to a triad of cream-colored candles of various shapes and sizes, all lit and perched on the edge of a wooden shelf. One was a tall, thin taper that had bowed over from heat and age like an aged headmaster Elke had once known. The second was a fat pillar whose top had cooked down into a crater of liquid wax, its flame barely visible as it peeked over the edge of the cradle it had cooked for itself. The third was a stump of a dwindling tea light, its flame sickly soldiering on despite the way its wax and wick neared the end of their existence. The drippings from the three of them had pooled together and now hung in a forked stalactite like a dismembered crow’s foot from the edge of the shelf, all knobbles and claws.
There were many things in this place that Elke didn’t like, and as her eyes traveled around the room, lighting on minute detail after unsettling minute detail, she identified even more. But the ominous shape of the wax drippings made her particularly anxious.
She swallowed, tasting as much as smelling the fresh blood notes in the air in this place.
A few clusters of herbs, tied into bouquets and hanging inverted on a line of string between two of the exposed ceiling joists, looked familiar, like something that Elke’s father might have used in crafting poultices and herbal soaks for his patients. She found some slight comfort in that - that not everything here might be inherently bad.
But for those few clusters of herbs, there were a dozen other knick knacks and minutiae that screamed “inherently bad” from their mere presence.
Elke wasn’t sure what else to say. She considered explaining that the magic she used was not of the black variety lest the crone try and convince her to come study under her tutelage instead, but she didn’t want to offend the witch and decided that best a point to raise only if the witch made her pitch first.
She considered mentioning which academy she was from, but that seemed hardly more than a bragging right now. What did a witch care about the prestige of her academics? Did witches even study their crafts in schools?
Buttering up the witch was an option, but that could also land her in tomorrow’s stew.
Unable to come up with a good option, she simply looked to Nevina and hoped that her expression conveyed the request for help that she was attempting.