A theory forged with memories

[21:28] The mask cracked once more to spring forth a fiery green smile. Holding the newly sharped blade like a child with a cherished toy.. Green smile ever present.


"I thank ya' Sasza. Ya' a real life saver."

The smile faded away as if it were washed away as the mask seemingly..moved back into its original fixture. Un-cracked by his rieka.

"Im ready now Ophilea...lets begin."
(Sylvester Ruger)
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[21:28] Sasza exclaims, "Mnnnenjoy!"
[22:09] The white-haired Oscuri removes her jacket as usual, placing it on the back of a chair, after withdrawing her notebook, as well as something else - a simple grey, spherical stone, faintly translucent, crystalline. She sets it down before her workstation, sitting upon the table. Next comes several other items, specialized ink utilized in runescribing, a thin, precise quill, parchment paper, metal tacks, a slender syringe, and finally a vial of reddish liquid. Sleeves of her white dress-shirt are rolled up, exposing her jagged, glass-fracture like rieka circuits.

Motioning to one of the pale laboratory assistants, he departs, presumably to retrieve her test subject. Regardless, she does not wait for its arrival, sitting down upon her chair, and taking up her quill. Then, she flips through her notebook, switching between several pages emblazoned with a large runic diagram, beginning to transcribe that diagram with the ought most care onto her sheet of parchment paper, once it's tacked down onto the workstation's table.

As she works, she speaks in that smooth voice of hers, the Oscuri's burning eyes resting upon the page itself.

"These tests should not be too difficult...

This stone was given to us by Arthur, during out initial Necromancy lesson. They mimic the magic capacity of a human subject, used for channeling mana into it, in order to practice doing so as part of a resurrection ritual..."

After a time, the Oscuri finishes transcribing the runes. They're elaborate and painstakingly copied, a complex runic circle about the diameter of a dinner plate, empty in the center. That stone is set in the center, and the Oscuri holds both hands out towards it, an incantation spoken.

"Azrael, every beat of your wings has the winds of change blow across this land."

With that, her rieka flares up, glowing through her clothing, the breeze that surrounds her intensifying dramatically, tugging at the edges of her paper. Her burning emerald eyes now an electric-green hue, she focuses her attention utterly on the grey stone, a murky smoke-like substance glittering with motes of green rising from the rieka circuits on her arm, and collected in four swirling wind currents, like tendrils.

These tendrils stretch outwards to make contact with the surface of the stone, those glittering motes channeled down the 'tunnels' to make contact with the surface. She's charging it with those miniscule motes of rieka…

Before the grey-ish stone blackens, the Oscuri's winds dispelled after a momentary examination of such a state, 'smoke' and rieka-motes dispersing. Ever-so-slightly displeased, she lowers her hands, her lines of rieka fading, as she glances over at the mask-wearing other.

"The problem I'm having is purely in delivery of my mana to a human-sized subject. I am not an energy mage, and must channel small amounts of rieka slowly towards the subject. This means that not enough can be brought to bear quickly enough to equalize and stimulate the four major points of the body.

I've seen the Adjudicator and Lady Rowan working together - Lady Rowan channeling her mana into Lord Arthur, so he may bring it to bear... I'd like for you to assist me by doing such, though I am not sure what process is needed for you to take. I'll have you decide on how you're going to do such.

Channel mana towards me to test this out. We're both Oscuri, so our rieka-based mana should not be too difficult to be able to share... So as to avoid overloading me, I'll simply attempt to carry and expel the excess mana.

Begin when you're ready."

She turns to face the practice stone again, reaching both hands out towards it and saying her incantation. Her lines flare up oncemore, glowing a brilliant electric-green, active and channeling her cursed mana. That smoke makes its appearance again, drifting up the lines upon her arms, and being gathered by dancing winds into four smoky spheres that glitter with motes of green...
(Ophelia de' Fiano)
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[22:40]
{LOAD GAME}

[22:59] A slight chuckling from the green haired oscuri before a soft sigh came from beneath the mask. And in the simple presense of someone he could trust..he removed his mask. A slight hissing noise as threads of rieka stretched from the mask before they burned away. Rolling up his sleaves to get down to work...Although he never did advance in the necromancy departmet. Staring over the Oscuri's neat arragement and setup seemed..alien to the him considering he enjoyed the simple things to a life.

But alas the osuri had no qualms..he was ready to go at any moment and cross over into the next life is the oscuri so choosed to. But regardless dull blue eyes stared across towards Ophelia. And at the mention of the stone it was long forgotten within the last house he resided in. But at the mention of channeling mana..it was a bit strange to hear that she of all people was having trouble with it. Even if the stone in that sat with energy was hidden somewhere in it..he didnt have suh afinity for controlling over other as life.

"There lies...a small problem. I dont exactly control my rieka, I give it form and emotion to carry out my will...but with this? I can offer some help...and the help of another. Though...it will be a bit weird for ya'. Say hello to my well..the mother who birthed me.

She'll help keep my other..side-effects of my mana in check while I channel it..though this will be the second time i've done this so bare with me for a moment."


A brief moment before the oscuri let out a soft sigh and spoke in a tone far different from usual. It sounded almost peaceful..calm, and full of confidence that should nowhere be near the oscuri as he uttered a few words in a tongue that was seemingly not his at all.

"Mother, my keeper and guardian, please grant me your audience...Sustain me so I may grant another child of our creator and the the god you worshipped to florish in his arts."

In that istant his dull blue eyes shifted to a warmer sea-blue color mixed with green. Fiery green rieka bubbled forth from the oscuri as its color shifted to a different hue. A much..darker hue. As if someone had come down from the spirit world to embrace the green haired oscuri. And with it both hands moved towards a prayer like motion before the oscuri stood up and moved behind ophelia. Both hands barely placed on her back before they glowed a darkened green.


And through their shared contact rieka flowed with the oscuri's strange ability to seemingly cut off casting for a short while; gone. And with it his energy filled rieka flowed into the oscuri like a raging fire. Though there was something else along side it that ophelia could feel. It was energy, but a cooler varient. One brought by a unshakeable faith in azrael, one that was vastly different from the other oscuri.



(Sylvester Ruger)
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[23:45] The platinum-white haired Oscuri nods to the unmasked Sylvestor. Similarly, she trusts the younger Ruger. Even despite his eccentricities, he's always been a stalwart ally to her. An ideal kin. She gazes into dull blue eyes for a few moments, listening to his words. Curiosity is obvious as cool currents of wind dance around the noblewoman, studying the other with her burning eyes as she waits for the appearance of Sylvestor's mother. This manner of quirk is interesting and she definitely notes the change in tone.

That sense of peace is a turnaround from the melancholic and subdued Sylvestor. Interesting.

As eyes shift in hue, and an incantation is spoken, Ophelia directs her attention forward, that darkened rieka a sign that she's going to have to be careful - lest she overload the stone.

That touch brings with it enriched, energized and burning currents of mana. They're intense, those cooler, more relaxed currents focused on when possible,as brilliant currents travel down jagged glass-fracture like lines. The dark smoke that ebbs from the circuits on her arms is mixed with an ever-increasing amount of brilliant energies, as Ophelia attempts to use her own circuits as some sort of pathway, to direct the flow of power through her.

While doing so, with some difficulty, errant verdant motes of glittering mana finding themselves drifting away from the four controlled spheres, the tall Oscuri gathers up as much as she can into those four air-currents. The tendril-like tunnels of air direct the mana towards the stone, glittering motes like waves, powerful and dense as they're suspended in that darker 'smoke'.

They make contact, and it soon, rieka is channeled inwards towards the stone itself. Its color grows greener, as it should. Greener. Greener...

The cusp of success is at hand, before-

Those motes of intense mana are too much, rupturing the tendrils of air that are used to contain and channel them as the flow is attempted to be slowed. Smoky, glittering currents dance outwards from what was a much more precise delivery, still pouring into the stone and glowing a brilliant green-white.

It singes the paper, and Ophelia leans forward to break contact, ending her controlled air-flow, and letting excess rieka dissipate, venting it from her circuits, so as to avoid damage.

Once connection is broken and after several minutes are taken to vent excess energies, Ophelia looks quite drained, jittery, from exposure to more Azrael-tainted mana then she could handle, and tired, from the strain of channeling. She sits there for a time, eyes closed, working to calm herself down as adrenaline is felt surging through her, trying to stay perfectly still and calm while filaments of that smoky, rieka-tainted stuff drifts from arms, like smoke after a fire.

"Mm... Failure... For now. Was- was a good attempt..."

She states, her normally composed voice having a bit of an airy quality to it as she needs to catch her breath. Her rieka circuits remain active for a while, until they finally manage to fade as she's further composed herself. Deep emerald eyes look to Sylvester.

"Thank you - and your mother - for the assistance, Sylvester... It seems I wasn't able to channel your mana effectively. Or rather, there was too much of it to avoid me from overloading the stone... Perhaps we should practice more at a later date."

The cooler elements of that residual mana are relaxing, and do quite a bit to prevent her from feeling unpleasant and generally well-controlled emotions within the platinum-white haired Oscuri, such as aggression or anger. Generally stiff and formal, she leans back and quietly gazes upwards for a time, just to center herself...
(Ophelia de' Fiano)
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[00:11] All throughout the channeling of the duel cusped mana. The oscuri felt fonder memories floating towards the surface of his mind. The better times of when he was still with his mother. Sharing ice cream after a rather tiring day in the mainlands. From coming home with new trinkets and shiny toys, all made out of junk. But his mother never turned it away...She simply told him it was a fondness that would never grow old.

Even as the oscuri's foul air currents filled the room and pushed towards the stone. It brought forth an even stronger memory...seperation. The day he lost a true blood brother and his own mother. THe mob that swarmed their little cottage out in the woods. After all..his father did take many wives. But that day was all but forgotten..even though it was reborn now.

Tears fell freely from the oscuri's eyes as ophelia's success seemed to be near at hand but. it eventually failed. Connection broken as the oscuri took in too much mana. But evenstill the other oscuri was locked in his memories.

He had stopped channeling as ophelia spoke while attempting to calm down. Though when she looked at Sylvester, She could tell he was crying. Eyes a bit clouded with darkened rieka as a soft-yet blurry vision of his mother appeared before him. Mouthing out words he couldnt understand nor hear. As if the veil between them..was too thick. Before it abruptly shattered and snapped the oscuri out of his memory daze.

Once snapping out of his daze he simply whiped his eyes before sighing and wiping his eyes as he sat down on the chair and took a rather large and unsteady breath as he returned to his meloncally. Although shaken visibly.


"We can always try again...once ya' feel up to it..Azrael forbid I..we thank ya'..And all t-that stuff ya'."
(Sylvester Ruger)
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[00:24] At this moment, the servant returns with the caged rabbit. She shakes her head, waving it away, and the regenerated undead nods, departing. Having recovered to an adequate level, she can't help but witness the much more sorrowful state of Sylvester.

Ophelia is no mother figure, she's never been good with comforting or gentleness, alas that's why she has her Astaria manage that part of their house.

Regardless, she stands to full height, reaching a hand to place it upon Sylvester's shoulder as her burning, deep emerald eyes look to his own dull orbs. She listens to his words, nodding slowly.

"You've done well, Sylvester. I have an alternate plan relating to energy transfer that I am also interested in trying... But even if I failed to succeed, this was proof of concept, if nothing else.

I thank you for invoking your mother. Judging by your state, she is someone important to you."

There's honestly no way that Ophelia can fully grasp Sylvester's feelings. She never had that sort of deep connection to one of her parents, just one of the many children close enough in birth-order to be important, yet not high enough to be someone who would realistically inherit her father's title, and thus be worthy of his attention.

Nevertheless, her words play at empathy, and they're told in her cool voice, airy as she regains her composure. Regardless of her ability to understand Sylvester's feelings, she does obviously appreciate the help.

The undead servitor is motioned over, to clean up the workspace, while Ophelia allows her focus to shift to it. Her long-fingered hands assess the heat of the stone, judging it to be 'hot but bearable', she wraps it in that slightly singed parchment paper, carrying it over to her coat and placing it in a pocket. She retrieves her notebook, adding a page worth of observations on this most recent experiment, before closing the book and returning it to coat.

It's oncemore pulled upon herself, as she turns to give Sylvester a formal bow, arm crossed over chest.
(Ophelia de' Fiano)
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[00:37] At first..there was no responce from sylvester as he caught his breath. Being complemented on the theory he helped with. He simply opened his palm before a faint green orb floated upwards before vanishing. Only then did he speak. And only then was he..truely ready.


"Ya' welcome..But ya' hit the mark. My mother was the one who taught me most of what I learned in sword fighting..Among other things. As well as..it seems foolish to speak about it even in the research wing. Perhaps another time I'll tell ya' why she's so important to me."

A new emotion usual in the oscuri. Real happyness. It was perfectly clear that he held a much stronger emotion for his mother. The comforting was enough to help him regain his composer as the calm aura that seemingly fitted him faded slowly.


Once more standing at attention at full height before returning the formal bow to Ophelia. A light haze of sleep drifting over him before he simply slipped his mask back on once more.

"I do say in the near future..I want my original mask to hold the memorie of my mother.."

A slight shrug before the oscuri seemingly wobbled out of the building to rest.
(Sylvester Ruger)
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[00:45] "Of course, Sylvester. I'm not averse to hearing about such a thing, when you're interested in telling."

Overly formal and not particularly warm is the platinum-white haired Oscuri. Regardless of her cold demeanor, she takes steps to be kind to her kin and ally. More then that, he might even be a friend. An odd, barely considered concept for someone who thinks mostly of useful allies and formalized partnerships.

She doesn't dwell on it, and instead, once those words are given, relating to his original mask, she nods. It makes her wonder what she'd do if she had something related to her father. Or mother, as absent and uninterested as she was.

Probably stick it up on a wall somewhere, as a bit of unconscious revenge against them for neglecting her.

Regardless, she departs with a;

"Farewell, Sylvester. I'll meet with you again, soon."

Told in that cool, measured voice of hers.
(Ophelia de' Fiano)
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