"I'm under the impression that I've traveled ten years back in time.." Nera groaned leaning against the aged surface of a marbled wall with Thomas' broad figure in similarly wracking frustrations, the two of them stood side by side in the buzzing chaos of disorderly steps, long ques and a room that was large yet eerily gave off the feeling of being far too small for the busying activity it allowed in its rampant spaces. The receptionist on the first floor had led them here four hours prior on the mission of both figuring out their magical affinity and acquiring an 'Identity'. She'd made it sound so simple, the damn aptitude test had been so simple and yet..
Granted one wouldn't expect any less from the fact, they'd walked around in the chaotic activity and asked a few tentative questions to find the identification office had a waiting system, typical and most expected. What they hadn't expected was holding a waiting number six figures long.
"You'd think that foreign story would've led us through scot free" He gave her an incredulous look, rightfully shot back with gritting annoyance "Well now we know they have an identification office and we're getting one, what would've happened in the scenario that we did act like inside people, couldn't name a thing about the place or produce viable evidence of our selves?"
He didn't frown or rebuke that and simply sighed, envying a comfy bench which didn't seem to have crossed the minds of the interior designers who so vehemently prioritized the pretty atmosphere of jade walls and symbolic architecture, it was frighteningly so jarring from what a place like this should be that he wondered if it was all the magic squirming through their varied veins that made them so immune to basic mortal essentials, "I'm aware, these lines are just so exhausting"
She sighed too, "A million people, how many can this city hold..?"
The number along the service card they'd been given read 1,656,990. Either about a million other people had identification issues or their numbers generator had woefully overworked itself, hope would desire the latter and yet they'd stood against the pillars for close to five hours with their backs aching stiff. She shifted somewhat and stuffed the paper somewhere as Thomas' gaze lingered somewhere, bored enough that there was a curiosity in knowing what he was staring at on the floor she realized it was in fact his hands as a chortle betrayed her.
"What?" Thomas pulled his gaze towards her, glaring with a flush of red.
"You don't actually think something's going to happen right?" She raised a brow, amused at the gesture, "Witch Lady has you star struck—"
"We're going to need to know it won't we?" Nera frowned, to which he took no stout retort as a means to continue, "I don't know what you're planning with that copy of Brentley's paper but If.."
He glanced around, hesitant for a moment as his voice lowered to a whisper, "..This really is illegal, no one's going to help us actually understand what's on it, how to use it, etcetera!"
Nera looked on incredulously, "The dark arts, Tom? You mean, you. Want us. To wantonly educate ourselves on.. actual spells?"
"We've done it before!"
"Fake spells! Fake rituals! The whole load of those hundreds of years of so-called human wizardry is nowhere near true! Hell, they'd stopped believing in their own reasons for burning women on stakes!"
"Oh, come on! You want to do it too!"
The six god's help her, she did, from the very start of the prospect she felt like they both did; obviously. The nagging part of it eating away at her silver head though was..the ambiguity, their last run in on Brentley's paper had been dangerous, outright miraculous that they'd survived it in one piece without a scratch. The high chances of what could've gone wrong were so insurmountably clear now that not heeding with caution felt tantamount to testing waters of unknown depths.
"We fucked around with Brentley's paper and look where we are now, sixty years into the past on another world with fairytales and god's. I'm..being cautious" A wry look roused a bit of annoyance, "What?"
"What have you done with Nera?" As the words left his mouth she let out a hard sigh and looked elsewhere.
"Avoiding anything that can and will go wrong" There wasn't even a guarantee of learning the world's spells anyway, children enrolled into academy's for that stuff. What school in their right minds would let two adults in their late twenties be taught from them? The questions that'd pile up from such an exchange were exhausting to think about, let alone the fact of how much that'd cost. They'd have to eat something sometime and that wasn't happening anytime soon..
Though she couldn't deny the point, the magic they were looking for was illegal. Asking for help on what it meant was as good as handing in an illegal firearm and asking the authorities to teach you how to use it, they were going off on a whim; Ravinia's whims but still, the point stood that any sort of 'help' was marginally off the table.
'How would a person explain it anyway?' She thought.
'I said the words scribbled along this piece of paper along with a lot of other things and found myself whisked away from where I came from to here, could you please help me with getting back home?' Ridiculous..
They'd find themselves in a psyche ward before the rest, reason as to why she'd thought it best not to copy the entirety of Brentley's spell script and only the part that led them here in the first place. Thomas shifted to simply standing upright in a change of positions, "We just need a spell book"
She scoffed, "Right, I pick up a calculous book and skim through it. I've never done it before in my life so what exactly am I going to achieve?"
"I get the feeling you're paranoid and a little pessimistic, am I still talking to the same person I know?" Hearing that, she paused, glared and grumbled something inaudibly under her breath.
"Fine, we grab a spell book, then what?"
"Learn the damn spells"
"Learn!? They go to school for this shit!" She hissed in a whisper, careful that no one was listening. "What chances do we have of doing it by pages and words?"
"What's our next course of action if this meeting yields nothing?" She opened her mouth to retort, searching for an argument that never came, void of a smart rebuke as she clicked her tongue in frustration.
True as any, both their plans were disgustingly naive. However, though one wouldn't admit it, the latter was a much more plausible task of impossibly difficult requirements. They had an aptitude for the arcana, average reserves but an aptitude nonetheless. It was pretty much certain that the meeting for the discussion of Brentley's paper had a variety of endings that didn't lead towards them instantly finding a way home. Perhaps a course of direction but how was another matter, whether they'd give the first was a wishful matter.
She couldn't deny it either that it was probably their only course of action after this, obviously they weren't going to be taught the dark arts and obviously no one was going to teach them magic if it was universally thought that anyone their age with an aptitude to it should've graduated with that knowledge years ago. Her gaze focused upon a youthful elven couple searching the crowded area like themselves a few hours back, truly foreigners indeed. She pulled herself from the pillar and pulled the service paper inscribed with their number before passing it over to Thomas.
"And you're going?" He asked, taking the paper with raised suspicion
"Killing the time, I think there's a newspaper rack somewhere around here"
"Newspapers? I thought you said you didn't like those"
She shrugged, "There's nothing to do and It's papers detailed with fantastical creatures and stories that sound straight from a fantasy novel; it's comical to read"
Wasting no further time, she patted him on the shoulder and left from the pillar. Another minute and she wouldn't doubt for a second that a witty remark would've convinced her enough to stay out of no reason but spite, she was frustrated. Thomas' words, though obviously meant for no lethal harm, had cut deeper than they should've. Paranoid? Well of course she was, what was so wrong about that?
It didn't take a genius to realize how fucked they were on a grand scale of mind boggling events in the span of two days, it didn't take a genius to realize the absurdity that throughout the course of their first arrival they hadn't ended up dead. They read the crazed drawings of a dead old man and found themselves further than further could be from home, to not have a growing level of slight paranoia felt wrong..maybe even reckless. Then she was right, right? Walking here told otherwise..
She let out a harsh breath, looking around in the space of the building so riddled in symbolic architecture and vane decorative glamor. There was a ceiling though naturally it wasn't normal, in fact, perhaps it stood as one of the first real sights of magic she'd encountered thus far. The image of a faceless crowned king and the colossal form of a quilled dragon and a variety of other figures hidden beneath featureless heads but the clothes and colours of their hair and a similarly shaped crown shared amongst them at different intervals told of some sort of connection between them, they moved and on occasion walked in and out of the ceilings boundaries of what was a continuously repeated story along the ceiling walls.
Naturally, Nera could decipher what it was all about; the birth of the royal family. In texts, the history went along the remnants of a human warrior shown favoritism by the first lord of beasts, Monarch Of Disorder and the titles went on. It was somewhere along the fourth aeon, the aeon of chaos was it? When the god's had shed themselves from mortal apparition, leaving forth apostles without masters. Harmony crumbled when your physical source of worship wasn't there to keep you in check, races although under the same god or goddess seperated and individualized themselves into kingdoms led by the respective apostles ordained by their transcended benefactors. Countries were built and with them came wars threatening to barrel them all to oblivion, ironic was humanity's involvement in it all.
She was no philosopher let alone could a person like herself have any means towards critically judging others, though the general consensus was wherever there was violence and carnage, you'd expect to see a human being leading it with revelry. The last thing she'd expected was for a race so muddled in that kind of image to have been so adamant over peace talks, unbelievable as she'd remembered reading it, the Monarch of Disorder(in similar interests of a world without bloodshed) joined hands with mankind. A pact that'd later be sealed in blood, see the creation of an empire that'd last into an era of tranquility they'd fought so hard for. Though as all historical monuments of unifying purpose, everything required some emotions further than just cooperation.
Because of course, the two had to be in love..
She inwardly grimaced, or perhaps it was a perverse interpretation by historical scholars. There never really was an explanation as to why the two had cooperated further than mutual interest, the first emperor of mankind and the Monarch of Disorder. Knowledge was, however, that the Royal family; descendants of the first emperor were half dragons. There wasn't a shadow of a doubt behind that, she hadn't seen them for herself but their images definitely didn't suggest humans.., harboring the remnants of the first emperor and the ruler of beast's it wasn't all that hard to come to a very…interesting conclusion, as much as she'd love to find out otherwise..
She'd peeled herself from the repeatedly questionable portion of history and found that she'd been walking aimlessly without direction, the portion of the floor had grown a bit unfamiliar but finding her back wouldn't be anything difficult. She searched along most department walls and entrances not taking long in actually finding a news rack detailing the world's latest proceedings.
Bored and perhaps embarrassingly growing entertained by the damn things she read through the stories and the front page article littered in bold characters, a variety of various stories caught the eye.
[Morgana Giles announces concert parade through the vibrant streets of Lilete vail]
[Recent academy prodigies!!]
[Woman found murdered and hung]
Reading the endless many stories there were to entertain herself, she paused at the front cover, the title of it sticking out amongst the rest like a blade of morbidly exquisite beauty, 'Murder?'
Her gaze focused over the jarring headline accompanied by the spotted black and white image laid with unmistakably horrific insinuation, in no further marvel than the ceilings fluid repetitions, the headline's horrifying image moved. People crowding at the entrance of a door swung ajar where the unnervingly hung figure of a woman, young looking and short with her face covered over by a thick miasma she knew nought where it came from whilst her wrists craned over and stuck to the walls above her head along with her feet crossed over and pinned to them as well. It was a sadistically terrifying display accompanied by parts of the room, inside where the woman's body hung were covered over in dark trails riddled in symbology and morbid sigils, the black and white imagery obviously couldn't show it but it didn't take anything more than an intelligent guess or perhaps a mind brewed from an unhealthy level of supernatural investigation involving the brutality of human capability that she came to the conclusion that the symbols had been written in blood.
That and the first few lines of the article confirmed the same..
╔══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╗
Aerin 14th 1968
Sudden happenings at
the foot of Lancton's
Apartment building
Involving the death of
Apartment resident
V'neer Gu'ul Strava
Leave residents deathly
Fearful and the
Authorities baffled.
On the evening of
yesterday afternoon,
apartment resident
V'neer Gu'ul Strava
Was found murdered
at the kitchen area of
her own apartment,
her body found pinned
to the walls in grotesque
sadistic imagery as her
her own blood lay
smothered along the
walls in depictions of
both terrifying and
unknown origins..
╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝
She read the first part of the article twice, flustered for a reaction at the sight of the word; 'Aerin'. It felt jarringly surprising enough with the creatures that walked the busy streets, the revelations of magic and so forth but a completely different calendar placed a good section of her attention inwardly ranting on the matter before the subject of the article's story had come into focus.
She gave the still moving photograph a hard look, pocketing it where she stood after noticing from a distance that Thomas' tall visage had begun moving. Unironically, though lost in her thoughts, she hadn't traveled far enough to have lost the unmistakably recognizable height and strikingly most apparent blonde hair that she hadn't quite seen on anyone else thus far to have not known when to come back. The waiting list which had sounded close to an eternity before their calling number had finally arrived, the booming echoes of the number 1,656,990 now overshadowing the loud chatters and trundling clopping feet of the many that strided along the rooms polished floors made that fact known.
"Head cleared?" She heard Thomas ask from beside her, a tentative smile of amusement plastered along his gaunt features of a face that almost brought a desire to punch it out of spite, a friendly nudge or a scoff though what came out was the fact that she had.
"Yeah, pretty cleared" The two were motioned towards what was the equivalent of a busy little booth area swimming with activity, families and young fantastical individuals seated at the edges of small cubicles which behind a pane of thin glass sat creatures of small statured disposition, blotted in dark patches and skin of a deep sickly green with ears of pointed nature beside faces of an attractively human familiarity.
Did humans have a fetish for the inhuman or something? To be clear, the creatures were goblins.
The two of them strided towards the part of the room where their assigned assistant, as ironic as it sounded, was a beautiful goblin woman dressed in a deep navy blouse with dark hair, deep as the night cascading over slim shoulders whilst accentuated by eyes of a bright lemon yellow.
"Arkens home affairs office, how may we help you?" She smiled, tilting her head in a manner of either personal habit or necessary manipulative compliance. The two took a seat, tentative as they were with placid gestures.
"We're here for identification cards" Nera spoke, shot a raised brow as the woman's lemon gaze shifted between the both of them.
"Lost?"
""No, we're foreign"" The woman's gaze lingered for a moment, shifting and lining over the awkwardly smiling response to the chorus of what they'd sung for a good day or two but as to a sense of suspicion, neither could quite tell.
Once again, the disinterest to a lack of rather detailed reasoning as to why they were currently located in a foreign country, lacking in identification, awkward of what should've probably been basic worldly knowledge on how an affairs office of such a world should've been, told towards a telling story of again, the secluded segregation towards other foreign countries or a severe disparity in modern technology with the empire well and above the rest.
She was inclined to believe the former though the latter was far from simple to ignore, an empire built with its sole purpose for the combined collaboration of the world's population felt like it should've been ahead of the ball game. The fact that their stubbornness to a monarchy had persevered this far without much sign of crumbling was testament to the nation's advancement, if a person wanted to see just how far a place had risen, you first looked at those leading them.
"Date of birth?" The two gave a brief glance, "1939.."
They were both twenty nine years of age, though telling the person in front of them that they were born twenty six years from now would be a hassle of explanation, granted a dangerous curiosity would've loved to test those waters with much pleasant reverie to the results; they weren't exactly in the mood to brave the consequences.
"So..Nera Lunarora and Thomas Sickle?"
They nodded, satisfied for the time being, fluid motions passed over from behind the pane of glass in a sea of bright orange runic letters and sparks like ember flames. It was far from the fact however, the letters and constructions molded into the outline of something physical and card-like. Fascinated by the act, Nera watched with deep focus as the woman's hands flicked and her lemon gaze lifted back towards them with a smile.
"Do smile" Doing as they were told, though slightly awkward and a little tentative, they smiled. There wasn't a flash, a camera or anything conventional of the sort, the woman's gestures had simply moved as usual; faster than before and more purposed, the sneaking suspicion that perhaps it'd been her own eyes that were acting in the face of lenses, as ridiculous as that sounded, they were currently witnessing fiery sigils constructing identification cards.
Speaking of which, the process was fascinatingly enthralling and oddly familiar. There were no words that the woman spoke aloud, whispered or somewhat prayed to. A fluid motion of purposeful movements that in themselves weren't without reason, an array of sigils and archaic symbols spun around the length of her moving hands in the form of rings. The resemblance was almost identical to something in memory though she couldn't quite place a finger on what..
"That'd probably do for temporary arrangements" pulled from the charming effects of the fantastical, the goblin woman's voice reeled her back into reality.
"Temporary?"
The woman raised a brow, "Would you like to apply for citizen—"
"That'll do, this'll be useful enough for the time being right?" Thomas cut in, shifting the woman's attention.
"A total of one year before expiration"
"And this is for free?"
"Yes"
"And the next?"
"No"
He sighed, "Figures.."
Honestly it was a little surprising that they'd been free as of their first admission for a temporary identification in foreign territory, they'd at least expected some sort of fee's but what was there to complain about? Handing the two a pair of thin metal plated cards with their names and faces imprinted across its surface were their identification cards, fitted with an identification number and their half smiled faces labeled over its metallic surface.
She pocketed her own with a slight level of revelry evident between the added hesitance of simply sliding it into her pockets as easily as she did so with so many items grasped throughout her life, regardless of the fact that the magic might've been rudimentary, let alone skilless by this world's standards. She had never seen a spell done live thus the reaction was self-expected, they stood and bid the woman a lovely day, not missing out on the opportunity of asking directions to the final facility they felt it necessary to visit: research of mystical materials.
Doors swung open and echoes of the outside world barrelled with them, striding past the still crowd that waited beyond glass doors in idle thoughts, patient acceptance and the bustling cacophony of endless steps. Half in the process of zipping up an inner blazer pocket she'd expected to be housing the thin metal construct riddled in his name and face, an incredulous glance shot down towards her.
"What was up with that?" She turned to him as he continued within the added silence, "I'd have made some mistake with someone watching me like a damn hawk"
Her brows furrowed, "Crisis, that bad?"
"That bad!?" he snorted, laughing at the fact that she seemed unaware of how intensely she'd had her eyes focused on the woman's movements and the magic she'd performed so effortlessly without pause or fail. A minute of this passed before the question she'd expected to come sooner or later was laid forward, "So? Learning huh?"
The amusement behind that question was annoying though the truth of it was anything but further from the truth, "It looks familiar.."
"What? Their magic?" They squeezed through a crowded office center piling with the seemingly aged and academically learned, she wondered what that was all about before continuing.
"Yeah, it's…like I've seen it somewhere before..maybe not exactly it but something, somewhere similar"
He frowned, "Brentley's paper?"
She wondered, was that it? Brentley's paper was indeed riddled in runes, flooded by words that felt like a sacrilege to the English language and arrays so complicated that they might have been drawn with the aided narcissism of a physicist majoring in nuclear affiliations and yet was it the familiarity she felt from them whilst enchanted by the woman's fluid gestures? The answer that came to her was no..
The familiarity she'd felt wasn't from something recent but their ideas on the matter stopped there, they'd made it to the front door of a small workshop as described by the woman from a few minutes prior. The research of mystical materials facility, barely a 'facility' by any conventional means. If one were to describe it, none would find words any further from what the woman had described; a small workshop mostly disconnected from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the floor that looked less like a research facility and more of an antique shop proudly showcasing a variety of odd objects lined at a wide window that gave ample view of the countless other things situated inside. Slightly concerned at the sheer unprofessionalism, the two had to remind themselves that none of their earthly customs and expectations were liable in a world of witches and wizards. First to find the courage in pushing open at the wooden door, Thomas was the first to step in followed by herself as a small bell chime from above indicated to all those inside that they'd just entered.
It was..interesting, the first thing they'd noted was the dusted stench that wafted the room, similar to the kind of smell an old basement that hadn't found itself graced with a duster would smell. They were brought back to their encounter with Brentley's attic and felt an indescribable familiarity with it as Thomas bravely continued forward, to herself, the things lining the walls and dangling over the ceiling and hanging on rotting coat racks or old tables were of slight interest. Just adjacent where she stood was a jewelry box, a silver little box with vibrant flower petaled engravings filled over with dust though its former beauty wasn't lost.
She wondered what the history of that item was, 'course she knew not to touch it. Brentley's paper would forever leave a mark upon her soul that if she didn't know what something was, what it could do and where it came from, the worst option was to mess around and find out. She shuffled forward after a moments more idling over its splendor and turned her gaze elsewhere, atop one of the coat racks lining the room like shelves was a large necklace-like contraption or perhaps an amulet or some sort of pocket watch dipped in rose gold and of the shape of a crescent moon where in the middle of its arc sat a suspended jewel acting as the glass cover of a watch beneath it.
The curiosity to touch it was stronger than ever though once again, trauma won against basic human curiosity. They'd reached the front counter, a desk with a bell and behind it were loads of other items antique in nature. A minute passed, then two before they'd glanced at the bell situated over the counter and outstretched a hand.
"Cursed objects are to be left well alone" They paused, interrupted as the shifting and shuffling of items from beyond the counter caught their attention. Still as they were told, the shadow and figure of a person emerged from behind the wall of shelves leading to an entrance behind the counter.
"I would imagine that this is the first lesson in basic lessons of mysterious items?" The person emerged visibly into the light of the room, surprisingly of young appearance and sickeningly pale skin accentuated by bright orange hair. Also, who'd give a topic such a mouthful of a name?
"Are you the owner of this place?" Thomas asked, earning a scoff.
"Government property isn't owned by an individual, I'm this place's caretaker" He looked them up and down, "And I'd like to assume the reason you're here is because of some other cursed thing you'd like thrown away?"
Thomas nodded, the same not reciprocated by herself as her gaze although centered over something along the man's head and unable to hold the question, raised a brow, "Why's a demon taking care of this place?"
A hard elbow struck at her ribs but surely this was something, for beyond the sickly pale skin, bright orange hair and the vest and tie the man wore, atop his head and although protruding with not much prominence as one would expect were horns she most definitely recognized as bearing a striking goatly resemblance. A demonologist like herself would recognize the fact, glancing at her rather amusedly than contemptuously offended did the man's similarly bright orange gaze sift over her.
"A person of insight, these days everyone mistakes you for the latter mutants and beastkins that litter the world like a plague" He grumbled.
"That sounds weirdly racis—"
"We were brought here on the issue of something we found" Thomas chimed in, shifting the man's attention once more.
"A heirloom? A Bitter 'gift'? I must say, the first is paperwork I'd really hope you'd covered thoroughly before coming here and the second would be quite malicious.." He spoke, more to himself in anything else but spoke nonetheless.
"It's a paper, nothing cursed to the…touch but we don't understand it so.." Thomas glanced at her, she sifted in her pockets, producing the paper copy of a part of Brentley's paper they thought safe enough to be seen. Not that they could accurately identify such but the first few lines that had brought them here had to be at least slightly less danger than the rest.
The man took the paper with silence, reading it over in the calm stillness with much tense atmosphere between the two, ready to either book it or cook up a slightly believable story of innocent involvement.
"Ah.." The man finally let out, lifting his gaze, "Dark magic, where did you find this?"
Taking the reigns, Nera answered, "An old woman gave it to us"
"Are you familiar with this then?" They raised their hands in denial.
"Crises no! That's why we brought it here, is it..dangerous?" she asked tentatively, the man barely sparing a glance before pocketing the paper where he stood.
"All dark magic is expected to be, I'd never know what this damn thing says as I nor do I want to believe anyone would be dabbling in such. By any chance do you know the name of this woman?"
"Brentley, Melissa Brentley" the man nodded, seemingly placing it to memory.
"Well, then I'll be taking custody of this. Pleasure knowing there are still citizens so willing to abide by the law" She inwardly grimaced at the irony of that as he smiled toothily towards them both.
"Should we expect some..investigation on us?" Thomas asked.
"If anyone's getting investigated, it's this woman in question. Rest assured, she will be found" He walked over and behind the counter, "A proper investigation may not happen till a few weeks from now though those mad dogs fail in keeping themselves hidden nor are they anything of notoriety as of late"
'Isn't Ravinia's dead cousin…' she trailed off in thought as Thomas nodded affirmatively, the demon's enthusiasm practically writhing with blatant excitement.
"I'll have this noted to the top brass immediately!"
Both Nera and Thomas stared at the man wide-eyed, ""Immediately!?""
He paused, frowning, " 'Course"
Curious for an answer and tentative of the outcome, she asked slowly, "Exactly..erm..what would happen to this woman if she was found guilty of having dabbled in the dark arts?"
There was a hint of something beneath that blasphemous gaze that nearly made her regret having dared to ask the question in the first place though the man—demon—didn't withhold an answer, "Well, that'd depend. The last one found themselves shipped to the shallows, worse than the death penalty they dish out for those creatures, I'd tell you that much"
He laughed, sending a shiver down their spines. The last convict, the last Dark magician having been present here or..perhaps known. It was an unfounded theory, an unprecedented and baseless traction of thought but could it have been..Brentley's dad?
Impossible, she immediately burnt the idea to a crisp, asking a second question, "When was this?"
The man gave a frown of thought, "Twenty..thirty years ago?"
They left the place a few minutes after, silent and thoughtful on the prospect of the idea though it seemed profoundly stupid. Brentley herself was well into her final years, a nearly ninety year old woman; the parents wouldn't just be old, they'd be downright ancient if they were still alive. Neither of them thought for a second that Brentley's father was the same dark magician that'd last been shipped to a prison a thousand kilometers from land and stock middle in a storm that never ended, old age would've killed him first if anything else.
That and they'd rather like to grasp onto a final strand of hope if all else came to ruin..
They headed back into the caged elevator system that'd led them here so far and pressed on the first floor, silence permeated from them both as the gears whirred above and sights of the third floor were lost from view.
"No one's got an idea.."She heard Thomas speak, turning towards him.
"It is illegal.." She shrugged, silence ensuing once more for a moments longer, broken only by the loud grumbles of their stomachs. She'd forgotten the fact that they hadn't eaten, "Hey, you think your girlfriend would spare a meal?"
A glare was cast her way, "She's not my—"
A newspaper article flapped in her hand, the other grasping the remaining remnants of a burger—she'd rather not have known what meat made the juicy patty in between, or the gold substance that tasted like cheese out of mercy to her own appetite; for the remainder of the meal, she had only thought of it as a cheeseburger and was delighted when the thing hadn't betrayed that notion.
Across from herself, along the table and ravenously devouring a meal of similar making was Thomas, "A murder?" she heard him speak between half a mouthful.
"Yeah, I'd read about it at the association. Still weird now" She spoke, not sparing glance as she read over the same article that'd shocked her at the association. Thomas downed a drink and leaned into his chair, savouring the sweet release from hunger as she finally set the paper down and stared for a while.
Noticing the attentive gaze, he stared back at her, "What?" She didn't answer immediately, simply staring a few seconds more till her gaze landed elsewhere.
"Don't see it" she shrugged.
"See what?"
"Where someone would find you attractive" She sipped at her drink, struck with an annoyed groan.
"I've repeated it a thousand times—"
She interrupted, "Drop dead gorgeous she is, it's like you're blind to every visible tell; hell, deaf even!"
His eyes rolled, "One meal.., that doesn't mean anything!"
Her gaze lingered over him, "Tommy, I'm under the impression you're teetering around a sensitive secret I'm not aware of.."
"Another topic, please?"
She only stared, remaining silent before placing her drink back down, "Then our magic issue.."
He raised a brow, glancing around the room and back at her, "Got any ideas?"
Ideas? She scoffed, lost as a bat without ears, that's what she was. The last thing she had were ideas, the main issue of concern was still an issue; that being, where would they acquire anyone willing to teach them? Perhaps it'd been the ramifications of having actually witnessed a spell live but Thomas' earlier thoughts of reading a few books were thrown out the window by himself.
"Zilch, we won't find a teacher not under an academy or without some ridiculous price tag" she shrugged, the prospect of it was laughably out of reach. A dozen or so reasons flushed through their heads not an hour prior, halfway through they'd culminated over once again asking Ravinia for help but no person was omnipotent; that and Thomas' 'morals' felt they'd already asked for too much, though she was curious into delving where 'too much' would actually start for the woman.
She took a languid glance outside, the city's grey visage had already begun its slow descent into the evenings. Vehicles passed with further frequency though the sounds of them were silent from inside, "We can't just sit here.." she heard Thomas speak, to himself or her? Probably both though no answer was going to leave her lips, let alone could.
"What about just drawing Brentley's stuff?" She heard him ask, barely sparing a glance to answer.
"The first spell did nothing, one time use. The rest is an assortment of arrays and symbol's we don't understand" She lazily traced a finger along the table, practiced and fluid with her motions. It was a spell not from Brentley's paper but of memory, "Say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing and one of two things happen,"
Her finger stopped, "Doesn't work, right? Well we don't know, if anything, a spell done wrong could be cataclysmic and worse we're talking about something illegal enough that the damn country here doesn't speak of it"
Practiced, unhealthily practiced enough that the words wouldn't leave even if she wanted them to, she leisurely recited; "D'esrania"
With a sigh she boredly peeled her gaze from the window, "Like that, best case scenario. Call me paranoid or whatever but I'm not going to write a bunch of things down without the know-how of what I'm actually doing"
She finally lifted her gaze, noticing that he'd been silent..far too silent. Annoyed at the lack of an answer, stupid or not, she stared to find that his gaze had frozen.
"Thomas..?" his gaze was shock ridden, laid with a sense of dark morbid amazement.
"Nera.." He whispered and trailed off as she furrowed her brows.
"What?! Spit it out!" opting not to, his fingers instead pointed to the part of the table where she'd been tracing. The subtly engraved outline of a seal sat imprinted onto the table as though carved from burning steel, glowing a hateful ember without flames and without heat. It was the circular imprint of an 'X' marked at each corner with dotted circles and in three of the spaces between the bisecting lines was a crescent filled in its middle with a dot.
She stared in shock, excitement, terror? What was the most apt feeling to have at such a time for at the center of that burning imprint of a seal, not the least bit virtuous in origin and unfurling its fleshly appendages like a blooming flower, a grotesque and malevolent flower shaped in the form of a star in the presence of a singular eye situated in its middle.
Through unwanted and naive consequence, she had successfully summoned a demon..