Stealing From Thieves

[20:18] Rosalie slowly crept through the Syndicate's lair, guided by her torchlight in the evening hours. Perhaps what she was doing was quite foolish, but if it allowed her to progress in her goals...

Well, it was just a risk she'd have to take. She soon found herself amongst stores of books, and with a quick glance around to make sure there was no one else there, she began perusing them. Attempting to find any written details on Fire Magics and their secrets. Somewhere in the back of her childish mind, it made sense to her that the Syndicate would have some form of knowledge on powerful and forbidden spells that would tear apart normal adversaries!

She'd seen it after all. Their combat prowess. They'd had to have learned it somewhere else -other- than simply hitting each other's faces, right?

She paused, finding a book entitled 'Ignis'. Well, it wasn't much to go on, but it was the first thing she had found, wasn't it? She pulled it from the shelves, and began to rapidly flip through pages, skimming to see if it was at least remotely relevant to her...
(Rosalie Ar-Marno)
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[20:19]
{LOAD GAME}

[20:23] "What are you looking for?"

Raven appears behind Rosalie, materializing from a mist of blood. There was a constant air of iron around him at all times; the smell of blood only grew stronger as he got closer.

He was right behind her; looking over whatever book she had taken from their library. Not out of anger, but more curiosity. However, one could easily be intimidated from one such as Raven appearing from mid-air.

"There are many magics in these halls."
(Raven)
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[20:24] * You have been awarded 6 Roleplay Points! *
[20:29] Rosalie immediately turned in shock, taking a few steps back away from Raven out of pure surprise. Not only had she been caught red-handed...

She wasn't being met with aggression either. She didn't know which was more confusing. She took a deep breath, and looked at Raven. Well, no going back now, right? May as well commit. These guys could smell a lie off her a mile away, anyways.

"I'm looking for spells, yes. The most powerful fire spells that you have. I've fire magic in my veins, from my mother's side. If I'm going to take revenge on the Noble Houses, then I'm going to need to be a lot stronger than I am..."

She held up the book for Raven to see. "I don't really have any idea of where to begin with it all though. I've never been taught magic. It only comes to me naturally, and the fires I have... Well, any mage worth a grain of salt can waltz through them like a breath of hot air."
(Rosalie Ar-Marno)
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[20:35] "Your magic is Fire, is it? If you've been naturally gifted, then you should explore that natural feeling. Books and instruction can only take you so far; you must explore your natural talents."

"What does your magic mean to you, specifically?"

Raven holds out a hand, and blood begins to darken his glove. Filling into the air, and extended out for Rosalie to see.

"My magic is my own blood, and the blood of others. It is the magic of sacrifice; of pouring your entire being into every attack and living in the moment. The fluidity of Water drawn into a devastating substance."

The blood returns into his hand, and the cloak begins to flutter. Crimson spilling forth from it into a protective veil. Every part of him becomes drenched in cruor; yet a single drop does not spill onto the ground.

"'On the blood of our fathers, and the blood of our sons'. It one of the last things Iwas told by my family when I was still a slave. To see the bloodshed they went through, what they themselves had to sacrifice."

The raven mask looks up for a moment, in a scene of almost sorrowful contemplation. Before long, the red eyes stare back at her.

"What does your Magic mean to you?"
(Raven)
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[20:43] What does her magic mean to her? That was a curveball. She hadn't been expecting to be told to forget learning from books. Did all those academy nerds not have anything up their sleeves then, in the grand scheme of things? She put a finger to her lips, her face contorting in thought.

"Huh... What does it mean..?" She muttered, as she thought to the times she had successfully brought her fire to bear. During those times she'd felt...

Anger. Wrath. Fear. At times, territorial. Possessive. Vengeful.

"My magic... Is one that is destruction. Fire takes. It doesn't give. It doesn't create. It burns everything around it, until there's nothing left. It's... A greedy magic."

Perhaps that was the best way to describe it. It could only really do one thing, but it did it very well. "It responds to the things that I -want-. That's when it flares up the most. I think."
(Rosalie Ar-Marno)
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[20:54] Destruction. Flames were often only seen as a destructive force in life. An all-consuming scar of heat across the land that left nothing behind. But, Raven knew it to be more than that.

"Violent destruction, something that responds to your own desires. Channel that when you use your fire. Just as I focus on the act of sacrifice with my Blood Magic, you must focus on that destructive passion. That goal to leave nothing behind when you spread your flames."

It's not that his Blood Magic wasn't passionate, but it was passionate differently. Not as violent, but still emotional. It resonated differently in Raven, just like whatever she would develop would also resonate.

"When you conjure fire, tell me how it feels. Focus on that feeling, bring it out the most that you possibly can. While I did say to look more at feeling, reading a book about fire wouldn't hurt, either."

"I can't teach you anything personally, only guide you on how to embody that feeling you posses. You must go all the way in, or not go in at all. Show bravery, show a desire to learn and improve not just your magic, but yourself as well."

A nod of his head, harkening back to the young days when he had to develop his Blood Magic by himself. A constant trial of using oneself up to the point that he nearly would be bled dry.

"Do that, and great things will come of it."
(Raven)
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[20:59] She nodded like an obedient schoolgirl.

Well, she kind of was in this situation. There was no doubt that Raven's magical skills dwarfed her own, and even if his magic was almost a parallel development of her own, there was wisdom in her words that could at least guide her forward in some steps.

"Thank you. I'll be trying to become stronger, so I can be of more worth to us later." She would bow her head, tucking the book into her jacket. "I'm going to go try and work on a few things away from... Well, valuable flammable objects. If you'd want to watch and advise, I would appreciate it."
(Rosalie Ar-Marno)
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[20:59] Raven says, "Take it to the sparring pit, do not burn down the library. "
[20:59] Rosalie Ar-Marno says, "Understood."
[21:00] Rosalie Ar-Marno asks, "This is the place right?"
[21:01] Raven says, "Well no, but it'll work."
[21:10] Once more, she'd nod her head, and set to work. Rosalie would fling her hands out to her sides, holding them apart from her waist. It didn't take but a moment for her to focus on something she wanted to destroy. The Upper Districts of Osrona, the symbols of those that had stolen everything from her.

Fire formed around her hands, burning at the air. The heat was... Not particularly amazing. It was fire, but nothing more than what you'd see in someone's chimney, really. With a cry, she flung her hands forward, lashing the flames together into an orb, which would shoot forth and crash into the stone floors, singing them.

She blinked. Something suddenly clicked in her mind. The Nobility... Didn't exactly use wood to build their homes. Gold. Marble. Steel. Iron. Glass.

She paused, standing upright. "They won't burn." She said aloud, stumbling upon a problem. "Even if I get -hotter-, they won't burn. Because that's not how those things work..."
(Rosalie Ar-Marno)
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[21:16] A fireball. It was certainly something, but not quite what the girl wanted. There was a moment where Raven just stared, trying to think on what to say...

"...Do it again. But this time, hold the fireball longer. Fuel it longer, until you can barely hold onto it. Then, throw it at the brickwork."

An idea. Maybe not a totally safe one, but an idea.
(Raven)
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[21:26] She bit her lip. Again? And hold onto it? Alright.

She cast her arms out to her sides again, latching on to the desire and passion for her vengeance that she held in her heart. It was like pulling at straws, since it was the memory of a burning hatred, rather than one fresh, but it was enough to fan the flames to life in her hands.

And she held the flames. She focused on them, letting her hate seep into them. They burnt and crackled, feeding on mana and oxygen, growing bit by bit. It was slow. Sweat started to drip down her brow, and honestly? It was working. She could feel the heat getting to be -more- than just the average fire. Something hotter. Something focused.

She bit her lip. Her arms began to shake as her mana continued to pulse. It drained her both physically and mentally, but she continued to hold onto the spell. She tasted blood, and only bit harder into herself. And just when she was about to give up, and let go, she hurled herself further into her work!

The girl brought her arms up together, collapsing the flames into one large orb above her head. It swirled and roared, and with a cry, she cast forth a wave of crashing fire that left the air feeling dry and heavy, and the stone-work black and ashy.

She fell to her knees, breathing heavily. She definitely lacked any sort of endurance or training.
(Rosalie Ar-Marno)

[21:34] Perfect. It seemed his suggestion was actually useful, and she had generated something greater based on a past feeling, or a current one. Smiling behind the mask, he spoke.

"I was right. Fuel your magic with your emotions, and it will grow stronger. I can't really help any other way, so you should keep working on this."

With that, he'd move back outside the room. His job was done.
(Raven)
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[21:38] She could barely nod in response to Raven. He'd definitely shown her... Something. Maybe at least a source of strength to harness. Now, she'd have to master it. Perfect it into a technique she could wield against the Nobility.

She looked at her hands. The skin of her palms was red and swollen. Yet, she felt no pain from it. Only the coming promise of victory.
(Rosalie Ar-Marno)