Terminus: The Patron's Mark III

[20:30] Laurentius paces into the chambers- except this time, with a visitor in tow. The clergymen part before his passage, as he steps to the edge of the shrine- where stairs dip into dark waters... and kneels. His head bows, as he speaks.

"My Lord.

I come with our steadfast ally, Emmeline M. Emeraldi, Princess of Fortune, who has expressed interest in your mark."

The words of Democracy's defender are far more brief than they had been in the past- allowing the Lord to speak in full.
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[20:33] Emmeline glances around the room, unknowing of whatever was in the pool of liquid ahead, but still following Laurentius regardless.

The clergymen were a bit... Odd to her, to say the least, yet of no note.

She had just visited two realms not upon this world, in the same day, after all.

And then, after the democratic defender's words... That's when she notices it. Her mastery over the metaphysical, even if such was mostly pursued towards time...

Had allowed to her to feel an etheric presence within the room.

And so she stared ahead, at the elevation she thought it may be at... While herself awaiting whatever word or invasion of the mind that would occur.
(Emmeline M. Emeraldi)

[20:45] Members of the clergy offered soft smiles with the arrival of Fortune nobility -- Steadfast allies of the small isle of Antefinem. Though, unlike the common populace along the base of the tower? These individuals were far more devout, the religious sect of the numbers. Protectors of the relic that was their Patron's Cradle -- A vast pool of vantablack substance. A studious eye over the blackened fluid would denote its alchemic makeup -- Preservative in nature. However, unlike what many others had come to understand in decades' past, no longer was a meager husk lying beneath the surface.

An individual attuned to the metaphysical would probably realize the weight of what they were beholding nigh immediately. The very air stilled in this room, as though claimed with absolute spatial mastery. It was chilled, even dimmed of the sun's shine through the painted glass windows.

An ancient presence radiated here, encompassing from even the crevices of cobblestone lining the walls and floor -- But the true source, proved beneath the blackened fluid. The spilled blood of a declared Patron, now drawing forth serpentine tendrils from its depths, rearing back some as they aimed their tips for the duo. The ethereal pulsations of mana sought to radiate through armor, flesh, and stone alike -- to sense out the very impurities in air and anatomical structures alike.

The minds of all attuned or otherwise actively perused through, so long as they lacked some basic warding against psionic observers. Though, even without the immediate capacity to hear anything on the surface, every listening ear enabled all minds nigh to act as a playback and amplifier for the entity that beheld this audience.

Its voice boomed directly for the minds nigh, broadcasted through the cognitive channel.
"It is been so long, since one of Fortune's stepped into my chamber.

This one comes with intrigue in my Mark? Then, they must know the cost it comes with..."
The tendrils acted as a representation of what was likely to lie beneath the surface, hardly extended a few feet above the surface, yet wading ever so calmly apart from one another -- No more than three present.
"Emmeline M. Emeraldi..."

"In exchange for my boon, I shall have mana as tribute.

Are you prepared to bestow such offering?"
(Etheric Presence)

[20:58] Emmeline continues to shoot glances to the clergy, even as the presence grew stronger, more... Awakened. A patron for those around, a deal waiting to be made for her... A mutual one, if what Laurentius said was true.

That blood in the center pool was unknown to be such to her, and though tendrils seeped upward from it, she only moved slightly in hesitance. A fidget backwards, though... Yes, she had come this far already.

Steadily, she eased herself back down, albeit her clockwork eye glowed a golden hue. And it continued to grow in strength, especially when the presence's voice boomed into her mind.

She wasn't surprised on that end, as she was awaiting such.

"Do forgive our absence, my mother has 'retired', and Vandal now takes the crown... He is adjusting, to say the least."

A small nod was given afterward, to the notion of the mark.

"Yes, Laurentius has informed me about your mark, something between a gift and an exchange. A mutual 'deal'. I am willing to pay what price you desire, given there are no other... Uninformed effects."

She reached her arm out, a grand amount of circuitry rests within, though perhaps not as filled with capacity as her eye.

"You are free to take as much as the exchange would validate, from the entire body... Except that which course within and to mine eye, for such is special and necessary to me."

It was no doubt the richest part of her being, in terms of mana and even power... But that in itself would leave her more reliant on it than the rest.

And so, she would give, with a specific condition imposed. Albeit, extremely easy to work around for the same end-result.

With her arm ahead, she was ready... Even if that movement would only be purely symbolic.
(Emmeline M. Emeraldi)

[21:05] "Then sink into my depths..."
The instruction was simple and clear, but the murky substance hardly looked appealing for nobility. It was a price to pay on top of what was already asked for...

As with such, the tendrils slipped past the threshold, slinking away from view -- Into the inky abyss...

While there were steps to make the transition easier, who knew just how deep the depths went?

Had they decided to descend, they could eventually behold the Patron wholly for what form it had taken once its likeness prevailed over the overwhelming darkness below...
(Etheric Presence)

[21:10] Emmeline tilted her head, as the arm's gesture ended up being useless. At least she looked cool for a moment, even if stupid afterwards, right?

Slowly, she reached her arms to the sides of her dress, and began to walk forward... Hesitating right at the entrance of the blood.

"Eugh..."

A deep breath was taken, before she stepped unto the liquid ahead, and barely maintained pace.

Anything for power, anything for sight.

All would have their hours seen, eventually.

Yet before such... There would be -Descension.-
(Emmeline M. Emeraldi)

[21:27] Down into the depths...
Down into the abyss...
Bubbles would roll past and through apparel, for the surface above...
Then? Darkness... The aquatic domain waded at the ears, with the occasional warble of something shifting amongst its new visitor and the unseen walls shrouded by darkness...

Perhaps, they'd keep their eyes closed... Or open them in hopes of peering through the darkness...
There was no intermittent light radiating from the surface, nor anything from the bottom that could pierce the midscape before one manage to traverse low enough. Though, with enough time, what proved vantablack soon shifted for at atmospheric sheen of crimson. Two eyes of that very color pierced through the darkness, a Seer amongst them, unhampered by the trials of time's passage.

What should've been a meager husk lying at the bottom of the pool was a vast macrocosm of fleshy flora, spilling abroad it entirely, before scaling up the walls around all downhere. Tendrils spanning well over a dozen feet in length scaled up from down here, some of which arching as though to briefly investigate what descended amongst them, before carrying on with their passive wade down here.

It could've been attributed to a fungal infested biome, except instead it was a healing factor impaired by numerous confrontations with a younger variant of its ancient rival, mutilating its regenerative prowess until it'd become cancerous.

Once a debilitating weakness, now infused with mana, and become a prominent strength. The source had to have been nigh two dozen feet in height, if it wasn't lying horizontal across the pool's floor. A gargantuan entity that had not seen sunlight in decades -- transmogrified to better suit an environment of its own making. As one descended closer, the sapphire glint of activated external circuitry could be witnessed, crawling down the shoulder of a humanoid silhouette, for a gargantuan arm thatslowly ascended to meet the princess. Its five digits proved more than capable of clasping around them entirely, clutching them within its palm. Yet, as it drew near, the runic language soon illuminated for one to behold, all of which scribed within geometric shapes, encircled by yet more transmundanic symbols.

It was born of alchemy, of runescribing, of however many decades of study and practice...
And as it neared proximity? One could feel the ethereal tug upon one's circuitry whole. It was as though, one was reaching beyond the flesh, beyond the essence, to graze the very barrier that enraptured the sanctity of one's soul. Its touch was cold, riddled with the Occult -- testing its capability, as though to admire what lied beyond the connection of the Mind, Body and Spirit...

"Alas, I shall have my tribute."
It peeled away, as though spilled through the pores of their skin. Though it did not come without some sort of incantation taking place. As though a blade were gouged into one's chest, a remote casting of advanced telekinetic prowess sought to carve into the cardiac tissue of one's heart directly, skipping the boundaries of the armor and skin alike.

The drain was proving rather drastic, but the sensation, as sharp as it was... Was incredibly precise, intent on actively scribing a circular base for transmutation circle, to house runic language...

However, it stood to question...
How exactly was the princess of Fortune to fare through all of this? Would she manage to persist throughout the hardship? Did her Will permit her to venture, ever the bit further in their quest for power?
(Etheric Presence)

[21:44] Emmeline's trudge downwards was a slow one, trepidation filling her entire being. It was not every day that you would have to trust a foreign magical entity... Though, she knew that there was too much mutualism available, to outright be extinguished.

Her eyes were kept closed, her balance and path only guided by that which was already made in pattern, and what sense she may project outward through the weight of time... Similar to gravitational magic, yet not exactly so.


Even as she made it to the deepest depths, she would not open her eyes in the pool. If such was hard enough to do with water for her... Then how would she when afflicted by magics?

Regardless of her current lack of sight, everything could still be sensed.

The crimson eyes, an everwatching gaze and presence. The flora around, a lingering discomfort to her being... And the tendrils, which still move within the liquid...

Like water, it ebbs and flows.

"[Such feelings...]"

She left her thoughts there, without having spoken the rest, though by peering into the mind, her fear was easy to be felt, if not heard.

And soon, the realization of that fear would approach, as a great and ancient entity now stays ahead of her... And an arm reaches.

She shifts from such, yet this deep, movement would be in vain. Too far had she come, and all that was left was acceptance.

The mark to be bestown, a product of runework, alchemy, and grand amounts of effort... For her to grasp... In an exchange. Unto her chest, pain and drain was dealt, and she recoiled, balling up as the feelings coursed through her...

Though all that now lay in her mind was trust. Trust, for a vassal, trust... For a being.

Trust, given too early...? Or perhaps, too late.

She would find out, as even though mana was taken from her, more and more surged from her heart to replenish, that itself being taken. Yet during it all, the eye was seemingly locked, none of that which it contained or received being drained.

It was merely her torso, that would suffer... And so by decree of that within her, a now notable separate spirit clinging unto her own and -their- soul...
She endures.
(Emmeline M. Emeraldi)

[21:57] It was not only the open thoughts that came to the Patron's notice...
Emotions proved to be quite easily identified through the unwarded mind -- Though, it mattered little in such circumstance.

Something did slow its effort however... Something sensed...
Something hiding amongst them. Yet, no impurities stuck out to it. Was it anythign like Tal'guth's Mindworms? Capable of hiding from his sensory capabilities? Capable of cloaking itself, only to briefly offer glints of its presence? Nay! She mentioned something about her 'eye' prior.

Could it have been, that it was a special machination? A housing for -something-?Living perhaps? It eventually came to one's full notice -- managing to realize what revealed itself... What -endured- alongside her.

A spiritual entity.
How strange... Could it be that one soul, within one body, could harbor two spirits? Perhaps, the knowledge of the ancient proved lacking in such department...

It would not prove to be the case in time... Until then?
The pain at the chest persisted, as the shine of one's Patron's Brand illuminated to nigh blinding degree -- it sought to speed along the telekinetic scribing effort. Subtle ripping of the cardiac tissue left minute giblets of flesh that proved prone to immediate disintegration. In an effort that'd feel like minutes, yet merely seconds before the shine would abruptly cease. From the gargantuan amount of mana siphoned, a portion is pulsated back into the inscriptions to execute the command with mana attuned to the anatomy it was acting upon.

It was a spell that sought to act upon a theory proven time and time again by the ancient. The link between the living Mortal, and their Soul... For their soul sought to prove the origination of their mana, capable of generating it infinitely. However, their heartproved to be the purest means of casting -- Symbolic Casting: Typically reserved for means of mana amplification. A magus' miasma, or invoked aura, would prove examples of this...

However, with the source of one's Symbolic Casting marked? The mana nexus in which mana would pump through, and even convert into raw magic, would prove magnified. Its efficiency intensified several-fold, overclocking the circuit at the expense of however much could be generated at any given time. The total capacity for it may've been diminished, but its potency would be compensated -- This was the Patron's Mark: A boon originally relegated to only those closest to the Patron during the dawn of Antefinem.

The passive casting of a body unused to the mark would take the form of a radiant silhouette of sapphire across their person. All the while, a coalesced presence of countless magi radiated within the Patron, now succumbing to dormancy yet again.

"R I S E..."
"Prove testament to the powers I wield..."
Their own means of telekinetic casting swaddled the woman entirely, before the rush of the aquatic element could be felt upon their head. The image of the fleshscape down below swiftly vanished, before darkness came to...
And before long? A splash, as one's head breached the surface...

The burst of blackened substance flowing freely from one's dress as they telekinetically launched from the depths bestowed a grandiose visual in a moment seemingly slowed in time. Their senses were stimulated, magus prowess enabled and amplified; they were baptized in the blood of Terminus, and rose anew.

With air ever-present, and a gasp likely? Perhaps, they could feel it... Their own mana surging with an inkling of something else resting at the heart, subtlebut merely perpetuating a constant spell's casting. The flex of muscles felt absolute, and the tingling of circuitry beneath the surface buzzed beneath the skin. The weight of the world seemed to lift from one's shoulders...
Was this, the power they were searching for? Or, perhaps, it would come with a delay?

One thing was certain, if it was real? They would have to get used to it first, before they could see it executed to its full potential.
(Etheric Presence)

The spirit within seemed... Lesser than Emmeline's own, by far. It's sustenance was mainly relegated to her eye, and only her eye. Dominion over the body itself would be done rarely, in bursts, when the princess was at her weakest, or most emotional and susceptible. It was not kept in a traditional mean, or by soul splitting.

With that in mind, it was more... Attached, than a being melded naturally. However, even through all of that, it was still a part of her.

...And locked away, it would be. None mana lost, for it would be necessary to keep maintenance.

Whereas Emmeline would persist, no matter how weakened... As long as her eleventh hour didn't tick over.


...Slowly, Emmeline's hand reached to her chest, and she grasped at the skin, center of such. The pain was becoming unbearable, prolonged, her perception of time being skewed to slow, becoming entirely detrimental for this specific moment.

If not submerged, she may scream out in anguish, though she did not. She couldn't bring herself too, being in the environment she was.

Her mana, was being taken, her infinite well of a soul being tapped upon still. Everything felt- Wrong... Wrong... WRONG...

She fell upon her knees, even in the depths she was at the bottom of...

Though... Something else arose.

Power... A power to be grasped at, that which she desired. The fulfilment of their deal. Even without casting, her attunement to time itself would lead acknowledgement of such a boon available through merely tapping upon it mentally.

And with that, even through the pain, she was relieved.

Relieved that the depths wouldn't consume her, that she may still see many more sets of hours for others, and fulfill her own. That her predestination was not proven a lie by this one instance.

And so, she began to rise, that arm extended once more, grasping upwards. Do not let one drown.

She rose.
The water had parted, she had been -saved-, even if she was in no true 'danger' to begin with. Such dealings were often felt with risk, yet Terminus had proven itself to her.

She was a patron, and a marked. A recipient of such gift that would be imparted, albeit with cost.

The ritual was completed, and as fresh air hit her face once more, the greatest gasp she had ever breathed in her life was taken into her lungs- And then, more, and more... Until she ceaselessly coughed, and then breathed again in a way akin to a cycle.

Expectedly, her mana was still drained, even past the exit of the well... But power would ease that loss...

Slowly, she would feel its effects kick in more, though she was much more focused on recovery.

Now on land, she crawled instead of walked, her voice deprived in a sort of desire to scream.

Time would be necessary for... 'recovery', from such an experience.
(Emmeline M. Emeraldi)