Cαrricк·Vαskαris : How do you rationally explain to someone you discovered the root of their guise? These collected perceptions of Eleuthera Lorcan had been twitching in the Wraith’s mind since his “first” encounter with her. And Carrick’s curse made sure to remind him of this every time the necromancer made her presence familiar to him. ‘She spoke to me, you know.’ Mammon would say, ‘Like two travellers we pass … but her essence is mine, and my essence is hers.’ The curse latched to the surly [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : warlock never did make sense throughout the years he was afflicted … until the fragmented lullaby started to piece itself together over the casual encounters Carrick had with Eleuthera. Those stygian thrums only getting fiercer until one night Carrick decided to sit, and commune with his demon. In its madness: it babbled, it laughed. Its shrill voice mocking the endeavors its vessel was after. In the end, there were more questions to pursue than answers. Although the voyage to stop [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : seeking knowledge was never in the erudite’s quotidian methods. He sought more information, he studied and read. Spending countless hours in his free time poring over lores and old tomes. When he was finished, he stared at the results for days. Packing those papers away only to glance at them another hour later. This woman. This … was she even a woman? How was she walking amongst humans? Carrick thought himself insane at first. Then sorely indignidant. Then … acceptance came. It [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : was a shattering reality to possibly bear. That this … … possible deity … was ambling around whilst he suffered for youthful arrogance. For decades, Carrick had built an alarming hatred for the one who cursed him. But at the same time? The fates had taken care of him while the gods had turned their backs on him. Gods were free to roam just as much as any, but what right did they have to choose what human suffered and who didn’t? And while the scholar within Carrick attempted to [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : rationalize his situation; he couldn’t. Not until he had his answers. These were SERIOUS allegations, and he was already in hot, HOT water with the Emperor.  Which is why he now had decided to catch Eleuthera off guard and probe her with his unanswered questions. So, a note was sent: to meet with her in Casim’s tower over some old books he couldn’t interpret. And the robed skeleton presently waited in the threshold of the Archlich’s office, Icarus cawing on his shoulder as he nested in the hood of his master’s robes. [e]

Eleuthera : Eleuthera had spent too much time pulling the glamour into place. It felt strange to be masked once more when her magic had awoken. Like fitting into too-tight clothing - wearing a corset after a time spent without it. Kohl-lined forest green eyes moved over the features of her face as she pulled the veil up and pinned it, wrapping herself so as to be completely concealed. The enchanted cloth helped. Inky and seemingly without flaw, it kept her magic from wearing too heavily on the Veil, thinning it and inviting stranger things into this plane. Carrick had requested her assistance and the Necromancer thought it strange the man - skeleton really - himself appeared not so long after she had met the young apprentice he shared with Casim. A part of her wondered if the Alchemist had begun to suspect her but she easily dismissed the thought. Carrick was impulsive. It was part of the reason she had laid the curse upon him in the first place. He’d offended her by slaughtering a creature
Eleuthera : for parts. Something that she cared for. So if he were to suspect her to be the one who had done such a thing to him it wouldn’t be over tea the accusation came. It’d be in the Great Hall, and a spectacle at that. Much like the news revealing his getting the Fiend with children, and asking for Drenai’s permission to marry her. Ele wondered at the wisdom of meeting with him alone - not because she feared the man but because Casim was a good distraction. People always suspected the monster they could easily see. Not the one lingering in the background. Adjusting the way that the jade and obsidian jeweled collar of livery lay about her shoulders the Archmage moved from her rooms out into the corridor. It was a short walk that the woman was familiar with although she stopped once to speak to Alton. The ghoul was all smiles for her and although she knew others found him quite disgusting she couldn’t help admiring the man for his tenacity and the work he did was solid. After a brief
Eleuthera : conversation over some of the new acolytes in service within the Cabal the Necromancer approached the skeleton of Carrick and his phoenix, a lingering look given to the creature. “Hello. Shall we?” Ele motioned to Casim’s office in front of the man. The magelock that the Heretic Prince had upon the doors was easily released from Ele’s familiarity if nothing else. The wards that washed over her were non-violent as she was not an interloper. “Let us use the Prince’s chambers. I think we will be more comfortable here.” She mentioned, and motioned to the work table that was kept meticulously clean. It was then that she noticed the blood missed upon washing on her fingertips, embedded into her fingernails. Ele dropped her arm and glanced towards the windows, the stained glass decorations that the wards of the Pale Elf had given him. “That’s an interesting creature you have.” The muted tone of her voice through the cloth of the veil worn reached far enough for Carrick to hear if he
Eleuthera : had followed her into the office. “Oh, and my congratulations on your impending nuptials and your growing family.” -d

Cαrricк·Vαskαris : It was nerve wracking for the Wraith, whose thin fingers ran just underneath the feathery chin of his vassal, Icarus. The crow immediately responded to the rare affection until the moment came when the  tender fingers of his master became rigid at the sight of Eleuthera. “Archmage Lorcan, of course.” Carrick said with a half bow, his inky acconterments swishing upon straightening his towering height afterward. Following just after her as they entered the aforementioned chambers. [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : There were books to speak o, tucked neatly under Carrick’s bony arm, but their lingering presence would be halted for now … much to the ghostly specter’s dismay as the conversation of Icarus was brought up. “He’s been with me, Lady Lorcan, as far back as I can remember. I received him just prior to graduating the academy of evocation. We have our moments, but I’ve come to really care for him in the years I’ve been looking after him.” That was as brief of a background as the [c]
Łɛssʌ Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ has left the conversation.
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : warlock could give. Because Icarus had always been there for him. And while Carrick’s bewhiskered facet alighted at the congratulatory tone of the veiled necromancer next; there was something stirring underneath that feathery companion nesting upon the mage’s shoulder. No one had been able to see it outside of close Vaskaris family members but Eleuthera would today as the crow’s beady black eyes made contact with hers through her diaphanous dark veils. She’d see an elder man, [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : tan and deep set celadon eyes with a single scar running along the side of his cheek. He was scruffy in appearance but wellbuilt and tall, a smile on his face. ‘Carrick, your mother and I love you so much.’ The voice said lovingly until it disappeared into the ether and what was left behind in a pile of feathers was the bird sitting on the alchemist’s shoulder … staring blankly at Eleuthera. Icarus had gone and unwittingly shared memories of his former life with the deity only [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : then to transition back. In the present, Carrick spoke, “Thank you for your congratulations. I am hoping the best for Daveigha in her pregnancy; the woman fights me so much when I want to keep her safeguarded. I know she’s capable but I can’t help but wanting to protect her, and the twins.” A half-smile came to the pallid mage’s face until he dropped until himself into one of the offered seats adjacent from Eleuthera’s, digging into his side to push forward the books he had [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : acquired. The books were touching upon nymphs, specifically ones in the after world and Carrick wondered what sort of expression she would make under those layered veils she encompassed herself in. "These books ... I feel will help me in my studies with Frederik but I cannot understand the language. I know in most instances I would go to Miss Rainer about this but she's been indisposed with many projects. Could you tell me what's in this one?" Holding up the aged tome, [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : he said, "The librarian said it had to deal with some nymph girl and her pet quetzalcoatl. But while literate in many subjects; this language eludes me. I'd appreciate your help." His tone was cool, but his celadon gaze wavered. [e]

Eleuthera : “I see.” Ele murmured to no one other than herself after the crow revealed itself to not be a phoenix at all but something else. Interested, the Necromancer wondered what sort of magics had trapped the man - Carrick’s father - inside the bird. It seemed a question for another time though. There was a pause while she wondered what the next step would be. It was difficult to concentrate on staying within this world and not slipping into the next. Not to mention the fact one of her enemies was currently bound on the ritual slab in her ritual room, being terrified by a few wraiths. The screams were something delicious that few her spirit. These thoughts brought her far away from the room in the Eastern Tower and her eyes glazed, her focus upon the man in the room slipping for a moment before she blinked and looked back to the bird on his shoulder who moved with his master. Carrick was in the middle of explaining the need he felt to protect the mother of his children and Ele listened
Eleuthera : attentively. “Of course you feel that way. All men do, Carrick. Just do your best not to nag her too much.” She said at length, thinking back on her own pregnancies and how the Champion had acted then. It’d been a much simpler time then, a simple life and not something she regretted in the least. Lost in a reverie for a moment she noticed that Carrick had settled into a seat and so moved to do the same, her eyes wandering over the books he’d revealed and listening to the man describe them. Surprise made her brows raise a little and she stood still, one hand on the chair and the other hanging free. It wasn’t the accusation she had assumed he would make. Not public enough. Not flashy enough. Ele straightened and looked from the books over to the man she’d cursed and wondered how best to handle the situation. Casim would suggest she deny it point blank, probably. “Why these books?” Ele said after a pause, moving to touch the wrapped cover of the one that Carrick had mentioned.
Eleuthera : Nymphs. There was nothing that should have given her away. Perhaps in the years spent in the Empire she had grown lax with her wards? Had her mied slipped, with the influx of her power? Ele waited, allowing the silence to stretch for Carrick to explain himself. -d

Cαrricк·Vαskαris : Chuckles bubbled forth from the habitually choleric mage at the mention of not nagging his betrothed too much. Though, all was stilled when he brought up the subject of the books, presenting them to Eleuthera. It was hard to read her facial expressions, but those veils cloaked more than just her countenance to people and Carrick knew it. He knew, just knew *NOT* making a spectacle of this was what she would’ve least expected of the unhinged wraith. His eyes lingering on the book [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : she took into her possession, scraping for any hint of evidence he could pry from her. There was so much he wanted to unload on the deity who cursed him. He who walked this in-between plane of existence, of death and living; it was pure agony. But an agony he took in stride, and didn’t let himself become forlorn over the body he’d lost. With a subtle shrug of his shoulder, Icarus dismounted from his perch to find a new area to occupy just above the Wraith and death nymph. “Why [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : these books?” Carrick echoed softly after her, coming to slouch in his wingback chair as his eyes homed in on her veiled person. “I’m sure Mammon could answer our question if you remove the sealing spell you put on his tongue before you cursed me.” There it was, not laid to perfection but the raw point had been dug up from its aged grave. [e]

Eleuthera : Ele’s gaze cut sharply to the man in the wing back chair when he spoke of Mammon and she wondered what this was. He could not truly desire to threaten her. He was a gifted man, certainly, but she was at the seat of her power and he was under her influence, should she deign it be. What about her children, and her family? Ele had given it more thought when last she and Casim had discussed the matter. A geas upon him would be necessary, of course, should she break the curse laid upon him so long ago. If not for her own sake then for his. There were enemies that she had made over the years - powerful beings much like herself - and she did not wish him to fall victim to their agents. Much less did she desire to allow the knowledge of what she was be trusted to a man who randomly shouted at his Emperor that he had impregnated the man’s sister. The Necromancer considered the man and his position. He seemed poised and calm but she was sure this was just an act. “How long have you known?”
Eleuthera : She asked, moving around the table and towards the sideboard. If this wasn’t a good time to have a drink then there never would be. Pale fingers moved while she listened to the room. The fire crackled in the distance. There were scholars outside the office who kept their voices low but nevertheless the sound carried a bit. Casim would certainly be back soon. Yet there was no sense of fear from Eleuthera. Maybe when she had been more of a mortal she would have felt a sense of unease. Instead there was only a sensation of calm while she poured whiskey into the glass and turned to face Carrick where he yet sat. The crow seemed to be watching intently and Ele made a note of the thing before sipping the liquor and allowing the taste to linger so she might savor it. “You surprise me, I rather thought it would be some outburst in the Great Hall. Then other people might need to be involved.” Would he push his luck and attempt to bring the law into this? What a strange idea. Ele took
Eleuthera : another sip and narrowed her gaze on Carrick, attempting to take the measure of the man he was now. All that pain, all that suffering had twisted him. Would taking it away be a balm or would he remain as he was now? “So, you finally found me. I imagine you have questions.” -d

Cαrricк·Vαskαris : Of course his poised facade was an act; he grudgingly thanked Ophelia for her consistent bitching at him throughout the years to maintain propriety in public [that didn't always work out, though.] Still, Carrick remained in this state of gentry as to not bring trouble to those just outside the doors of the Archlich’s office. “A month.” The crotchety wretch answered quietly, his gaze catching with Eleuthera finally under her inky assorted veils. Those gloved fingers of his [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : simultaneously occupied themselves with the stitched seams of the chair while he proceeded on again, “...It’s taking a lot of my mana to reserve my unhinged state, but I can assure you an outburst is imminent. I wasn’t always like that though. This curse wanes my memory, and fluctuates my mood.” A drink was tempting but even then, while he did feel its noxious effects, it quickly turned to ash in his mouth like everything else. Resuming his words, he said, “Involving those in the [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : Great Hall, or those of the royal family, or even those of our precious loved ones would be fatuous. My family is everything to me, and they don’t deserve to be in the downfall of my confrontation with you. This is between us. Leave them alone … ” His bewhiskered face withered, and his jaw set speaking then through clenched teeth. “...please.” He implored Eleuthera with edging ire and placed a palm to the side of his head. He was weary, twitching with impulse to knock over the nearest [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : table as Mammon whispered into his ear. “I have many pressing questions but the one I will ask is above all else.” There was a biting sarcasm to his words, yet this would have to do in place of ruining Casim’s office [again.] “My youthful arrogance bred an ugly creature. I sought to get what was not mine, and killed something precious to you. I’ve gone over this confrontation with the deity who cursed me so many times. Though, after all is said and done … have I atoned for my [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : sins, o’dark nymph? Have I suffered enough for your loss? Have you enjoyed watching others suffer around me because of my foolish youth?” Letting out a long sigh, the bag of bones looked to the ceiling of the Heretic Prince’s personal area. “...do you know what it’s like not to be able to walk with your child hand-in-hand in the halcyon sun?” Perhaps the fight to gain his humanity had been long lost to him … as he had accepted it long ago. “But the moonlight is just as fair. Just [c]
Akira has joined the conversation.
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : as glorious ... but the night is cold. If I could be human again, my Beastie's hand would be the first thing I would hold to warm her against the chilling darkness." But after his words, he felt he no longer had control and he kicked over that stupid fucking table next to him, letting his notes and books rain down around him. [e]

Eleuthera : “I will not harm your family so long as you do not harm mine.” The Necromancer said, lifting the glass to her lips again. This sort of discussion wasn’t something she had really prepared for but it seemed easy enough. Perhaps the viciousness had gone out of the man over the years. Maybe he had come to terms with his life. The Necromancer observed him most intently, keen to note his words and track his actions. The explanation of what had happened in the past and his lack of apology spoke to her. Ele tilted her head a little and worked her jaw beneath her veil. It wasn’t until he kicked the table that she managed to speak. “Do you think so?” Ele said after weighing her responses. “Have you sought to atone or have you been bitter, and angry?” She questioned. “I see that you have accepted your lot. I can feel that in the curse I laid on you. I also feel the suffering you’ve left in your wake. Sometimes, it’s easy to be cruel and difficult to be kind.” The veiled woman shifted the
Eleuthera : cloth, slowly pulling it down rather than just away as she had before to drink and finished the whiskey. With her features revealed she looked at the man wallowing in his anger, his self pity, and felt very little. No empathy crossed her mind or considerations for the things he might do. “Tell me, should I be kind? What would you do with the freedom from the yoke I put around your neck? Would you be a better man? Would you lessen the suffering in the world or add to it, as you have in the past?” As she spoke, the glamour she wore faded and her voice gained a dual tone of her magic being close to the surface. The hollows in her cheeks deepened until she was gaunt, her features paled even moreso, those forest green eyes covered in a milky film that glowed a bit in the light. Ele put the glass down, her fingers blackened and skeletal. The dark nature of her robes seemed to fade and blur at the edges and the shadows in the room grew darker. It was not a show of power. There was no
Eleuthera : threat to Carrick or move to attack him. This was merely Ele’s true mien, some version of which he had glimpsed on the night of the party at the Crytikos estate but had probably dismissed as an outfit. “Should I take pity on you, Carrick Vaskaris? Shall I have mercy? What would you do with it?” -d

Cαrricк·Vαskαris : “Touche.” Carrick answered just as Eleuthera brought up her family, and the pair of them agreed to at least that much. However, the discordant mix of thudding books and a clattering table did gain the attention of those guarding the Lich’s office. Rest their poor souls, for they witnessed the necromancer removing her veil of glamor to project who she really was. An inky mass of insurmountable power, and her auric signature thrummed throughout every crevice in the shadows of what [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : was once Carrick’s office. Any who didn’t show a hint of fear in the presence of the divine weren’t sagacious, but despite the consternation dripping from the very center of the warlock’s soul; he grounded himself to make his point. “I know I became a better man the moment my Beastie was born. And I resolved to not let her grow up in the world I did. To make her understand kindness cannot be measured, but cruelty can. I cannot say I can make the world a better place … but I make [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : it tolerable.” With a tip of his head, he briefly eyed Icarus but the bird remained on his perch as his master spoke. “He won’t harm you. If you think that’s what he is doing.” Carrick answered suddenly, “... he’s eyeing the sweets jar on the Prince’s desk.” The bird really only had a one track mind outside of his master’s influence, this being a clear example of it. With a shift from his chair, he straightened and began to walk across the room. He confronted Eleuthera and stared [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : her right in the eye, “We both serve a man whose body count is as there are many raindrops in a storm. My hands are washed in blood just as much as your own, but I’d like to be able to hold my child’s hand for the first time without the weight of my past actions upon me.” Taking in a deep breath, the Vaskaris mage let it out slowly before speaking again. “You gods like to make deals, right? In exchange for removing my curse … I will owe you three favors. As long as you promise me [c]
Cαrricк·Vαskαris : that these three favors will not cost me my life in doing them.” Holding his arms out, he gave a half bow. “I will gladly offer my services to you. Because I am better alive than dead certainly to you and his Majesty, Emperor Drenai.” A dry laugh came, “I did create the philosopher’s stone for the Empress, after all.” Though the laughter ceased and Carrick observed the deity in charge of his kismet. “Besides,” his arms fell at his sides. “I already told you what I’d do once you you showed me clemency … I’d go straight home, and hold my daughter's hand." It was a plea bargain, and it was all he could offer in his wretched existence. [e]