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Post by Weaver Bellamont on Apr 24, 2009 19:48:08 GMT -5
It started to rain. Lightly at first, like it wasn't sure whether to start or stop, but slowly, it grew more confident. It started to rain harder, gusts turned to gales, puddles grew in the street's pot holes. The roads shined and sparkled in the pale fragments of light from the half-covered moon and uncurtained windows. It started to storm. The sky growled softly, warningly, like an animal growing impatient. Clouds covered what little remained of the night's crescent moon.
Weaver took her time, enjoying the sensation of cool droplets running down her face, tickling her neck. Her hair, now soaking wet, clung to her cheeks, her cloak trailed behind her, picking up mud, dirt, and debris. She walked at a leisurely pace along the road leading to the local bar. The Oddity? No, Odydsey. She mentally corrected herself upon seeing the sign up ahead of her. Not that she actually cared what it was called, she just desperately wanted to get out. Stop hiding. Weaver could admit to being a coward, simply there were creatures and things more powerful than she, standing up to them was sheer stupidity. What she couldn't accept was the impression she was weak. And the longer she hid and cowered from her defeat all those years ago, the stronger that impression became.
Weaver approached the door to the shady bar, it creaked quietly with the effort of opening. The young-looking woman poked her head in to take a look around, thick wet locks falling past her face, before walking in and closing the door behind her. There were a few people hovering by the bar, another handful or so scattered about at tables, or standing around.
Slowly, she walked over to the bar, maintaining the same comfortable pace she had all night. Her soft soled shoes made no noise each time they hit the floor. Upon reaching the line of stools, Weaver pulled herself up on the nearest one, and rested her arms on the counter. Sitting there, she couldn't help wondering to herself, Now what? She was terribly tired of just laying low and quiet, but it wasn't as if she had a plan for anything else.
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Post by Simone on Apr 24, 2009 20:53:26 GMT -5
Simone had been traversing her room deep within the tunnels of the dark underground fortress when she felt her, it was like a soft whisper of something she had not felt in all the years she’d escaped her former, now dead, Master. If the woman had been an animal she would have pricked her ears forward with attention as well as apprehension. Yes, Simone was about as dark a Mage as they came, hardened and cruel but she also new power when she felt it, and her last run-in with a dark power this strong, was not a pleasant one at all. She moved now though, wanting to know who had arrived.
She was dressed in her usual black attire, her long raven locks caressing her bare shoulders that seemed to glisten in the darkness of her own room; Simone never did like the light too well. She knew where the source was, having spent hundreds of years with a Dark Master, she could hardly not know where to find the source of that silent whisper that called to her. The person she sought would be at the Odysey. There would be no reason to change, her long legs enveloped in light black leather pants with open slits at either hip and her upper body covered by her silken and leather corset, strapless, leaving those shoulders bare to enjoy the feel of her silken locks as they slid about over her light, soft, skin when she moved. The dark mage walked toward the door and then rethought her approach. “No, no need to get wet.” She grinned as she disappeared into the shadows.
There was no opening of the door, no dramatic entrance or even a quiet one for Simone, it was a simple matter of she was not there at one moment, and there the next. She stepped out of the shadowy corner of the bar and moved to the bar, her onyx orbs searching the small crowd in the establishment when she saw the new face and the corners of her lips drew up into what was a semblance of a smile, but that was all, just a semblance of one.
The bartender, knowing her, slid a filled glass of some dark beverage over to the Mage and smiled his welcome to which Simone inclined her head and slid the man a few coins then turned her dark orbs on the woman to whom she now sat only one stool apart from.
“Hello.” She greeted. “Would you like a drink? My treat.” She offered her.
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Post by Weaver Bellamont on Apr 24, 2009 22:05:12 GMT -5
The magic that ran through Weaver's veins was in constant movement. Constantly it reached and pulled, searched and found, always connecting with something, anything. It was like a dance: a simple one that took moments to learn and lifetimes to master. Generations had lived and died, kingdoms rose and fell: Weaver danced. She had studied her art carefully, looked carefully at how it interacted with everything else. She learned to feel her surroundings. Sitting there at the bar, Weaver felt a tug at the corner of her mind, the sensation of her magic reaching out to embrace another. The little brunette closed her eyes. She could feel the shadows slither and dart, shift and change in the far edges of the room. A Shadow Mage, and not without skill. Weaver smirked, maybe this night would be a complete waste after all. Maybe it have at least a bit of redemption. Maybe.
Her eyes flicked open just in time to watch a dark woman slide from the shadows. Weaver's mahogany gaze followed her to the bar where the strange woman exchanged a few coins for a drink. She pushed a few locks of slow drying from her face as the other woman greeted her. There was only a single stool between them. Weaver got a good look at the stranger, tall, dark hair, dark eyes, and offers of alcohol.
"A drink would be wonderful," Weaver said, smiling slightly, "I'm Weaver Bellamont, and who might you be?"
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Post by Simone on Apr 24, 2009 22:32:54 GMT -5
Simone inclined her head again and then turned toward the bartender. “And she will have whatever it is she wants, just keep them coming.” She told him, now reaching to her hip and drawing out a gold coin from a small, black leather, pouch tied to her belt, to which she laid on the counter.
It wasn’t normal for Simone to forget to introduce herself, though it wasn’t so off character either. “Simone, Simone Kelcer.” She replied and as her lips turned up at the corners once again in that same semblance of what could almost have been smile but never quite was.
It would be quite obvious that she was anything but a bubbly person that would annoy the hell out of one when spending too much time with her. Though, she would not as well seem to be one that is so still and cold that she gave chills to people who stood next to her either. Simone was dark, pure and simple and nothing more, nothing less, neither filled with hate, or with happiness, friendly enough and not jaded or apathetic in nature.
“You’re new around here.” She stated more so than asked, her calm voice spoke as the bartender awaited the order from the other woman.
Simone plucked her long-stemmed glass up from the counter and took a small drink from its dark contents before replacing the container silently back to its resting place, her fingers still touching, though not holding the stem.
“What brings you to Celesta, if you don’t mind me asking, of course.” She then asked, her dark orbs coming up to gaze at the other woman again as she once more plucked her own drink from the counter and after taking yet another sip, replaced it once more this time, with a tiny muffled clink of glass against polished wood, onto the counter.
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Post by Weaver Bellamont on Apr 27, 2009 20:59:18 GMT -5
"Wine, please. White," Weaver said, her red-tinged eyes flicking to the bartender as she spoke. He nodded and left to get her order as she turned her attention back to her companion. Weaver felt herself, almost unwillingly, interested by the other Mage. Since the White Mage's rise, and the dispersion or her comrades, she had found herself with few allies, only a thin assortment of vague acquaintances. Individuals she traded information with, she wasn't really interested in people. This seemed different though. More useful.
Where Simone seemed calm and at an equilibrium with her world, her darkness, Weaver was quick-tempered and impatient. Her emotions were wildfire. She was angry and vengeful, euphoric and anxious. She operated in extreme ends of the spectrum, rarely finding middle ground. Weaver, being in fairly good mood, decided to indulge the other Mage's question.
Only, what did bring her here? Nothing. Well, nothing specifically, Celesta seemed as good a place as any. A good sized city, large enough to blend and hid in plain sight. Though, as she began to consider it, her mind wandered, "I don't know what brought me here in the first place. For many years I've traveled, and strayed. Here was just the next neighbouring city," Weaver spoke with a hint of melancholy, but a smirk still hung on her face, "But now that I think about it, Celesta has it's population of Mages, and I hear things about a White Tower above the library. It might be intriguing to see what mischief the city has to offer."
Of course Weaver intended more than 'mischief', though she wondered if maybe she had already spoke too much. Maybe she had misjudged Simone as having kindred intentions? Weaver's drink came: the bartender set it down silently and walked away. She gently picked it up and brought it to her lips. It wasn't terrible wine. Weaver decided it would be fun to see where this went.
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Post by Simone on May 3, 2009 20:24:41 GMT -5
Simone listened to the other as she spoke, listened to her admission of ‘mischief’ as well, watched the Mage as she talked. She definitely wasn’t sure about Simone, but that was to be expected, it was not always easy to distinguish between darkness and light, or places in-between. She plucked her drink fro its resting spot on the counter and brought it to her lips for a drink and then allowed the dark liquid to pass through those lips and down her throat once again before settling the glass back to the counter once again, her index finger and thumb still holding to the stem of the glass.
“Indeed, the White Master Mage, Titus by name lives up there.” She replied and rolled her eyes. “He’s a powerful man, though I don’t feel that he’s looking for trouble but is more than willing to handle it should it pass his way.” She continued. “Or that’s what I understand, I haven’t met him as of yet, have had no real desire to in truth.” She completed what she was relating to the other, not stating anything actually helpful other than indeed, the White Mage did indeed dwell here in Celesta.
Simone looked around the bar and then returned her gaze to the other and smiled slightly. “The most fun I tend to find is in general play with those that annoy me. Other than that, honestly, there isn’t too much to do, one needs to be ware of the fact that there are those out there that I definitely can’t handle alone who reside here.” She spoke honestly.
She wasn’t stupid, she knew her place in Celesta, she knew what she was capable of, and though it was indeed quite a lot, she was no match for Titus, that much was a fact, as for a few other white Mages, that was yet to be seen, though she herself was not into trying to find out, as she was most certain Titus would retaliate against her should she harm a hair on any of his precious little mages in his order, and she had been alone the entire time, that is, until now, she hoped at least, she was correct in her thinking.
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Post by Weaver Bellamont on May 8, 2009 16:01:55 GMT -5
Weaver couldn't remember if she should recognize the name Simone said. Titus: it sounded almost familiar, but she wasn't entirely sure. Either way, it didn't matter. Weaver wasn't foolish enough to outright challenge the man. No, she would be much more subtle than that. Before they had tried war, bloody battles and lost. The Dark Mages had been vastly outnumbered. Too much cowardly, unambitious white magic; too content, too comfortable to reach higher. Only too happy to let those simple powerless humans run the world. It deeply frustrated Weaver how docile and subservient these Mages acted. It created a bad impression of equality between the two races.
Weaver pulled herself from her thoughts, she had been through that circle in her head many times before in previous years, and it only annoyed her more every time she revisited it. At least, she reminded herself, not all the Mages in this city fell in the shadow of the White Tower, or so it would seem, anyway. Weaver put her glass to her lips, drawing a mouthful of wine.
"There's no reason to work alone," she said, leaning against the bar, "And wouldn't be fun to maybe do then 'play'?" Weaver still wasn't entirely sure about the other Mage, but had a feeling. She had felt Simone's magic, she seemed more than just a Shadow Mage, but closer to being part of the darkness itself. Weaver imagined the other woman and her element consuming each other. She smirked a little bit, hoping she was right in trusting her instinct.
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Post by Simone on May 13, 2009 22:59:29 GMT -5
Simone’s semblance of a smile turned into a simply dreadful real smile after the other spoke to her about doing, instead of playing as well as not being alone. The Dark Mage had been correct in her assumption of the new arrival, her many years in darkness had not let her down after all.
“Oh, to not be alone, after all this time, I am afraid that you have cracked a truly delighted smile on my face.” She replied to the others first comment. “As to actually doing something, rather than playing about, well…” She allowed her words to trail off long enough for her to take another drink form her glass and as the container touched the surface of the bar, she turned her onyx stare up at the Master Mage and grinned. “I am all ears, Weaver.” She responded.
Simone knew she was simply going to enjoy having company of Weavers type. The woman was not, it seemed, overly abusing of her powers and yet, Simone could feel the power the woman had as it seemed to drip from her every pour, waiting to be used.
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Post by Weaver Bellamont on May 15, 2009 19:31:27 GMT -5
Watching Simone's lips twist into a smile, Weaver took a bit of pleasure at how well things were going. After all the aimless years she had spent wandering, she now had a chance to atone for past failures. The war lost, the shame of oppression at the hands of mortals: here was the beginning of an opportunity to let all of that fade into the waves of history. Here in the city was a White Mage stronghold, a powerful leader, and, it turned out, there were still some left who thought like Weaver. Not everyone had been brainwashed by the mindless drivel about tolerance, and equilibrium between the races.
Weaver drained the last of her wine, and set her red-tinged eyes on Simone, "Maybe this was before your time, or maybe not. There was once when Mages were given their rightful positions of power: a time where we held sway over the world. It was a golden age. But we became careless, and arrogant, and our throne was stolen from us. The White Mages waged battle on us, we lost, and now you see the world as it is today." Weaver's voice was soft as spoke, mixed with suggestions of longing, she pushed her hair back behind her ears, and signalled to the bartender for another drink before continuing, her voice a little brighter, "Now, certainly I wouldn't suggest walking the steps of Titus's tower and laying down a challenge, but there are subtler ways to work. I'm quite tired of hiding."
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Post by Simone on May 17, 2009 1:50:44 GMT -5
Simone listed carefully to the other as she spoke. Indeed the Great Mage Was, as it had become known, was a couple hundred years before her time, though she had felt some of its effects still in the anger and bitterness of her, now deceased Master. He had mumbled his distaste for the hiding and such, but that was about all she’d heard, besides of course, the stories she’d read in books, though those had all been written by the White Order and so were, quite one-sided in their tale.
The dark Mage finished her drink and then slid her glass over the top of the bar and smiled somewhat at the bartender as he slid her yet a third, that she looked down upon with her dark gaze and then returned that gaze to Weaver as she continued to speak of a time when Mages ruled those pathetically un-magical beings known as human. Something that Simone had always suspected should be the way, but seldom found anyone else who would support her mind.
“I am certain that there is a way of doing so, and no…” She took a deep breath. “It would be foolish for one to simply march up those pearly white steps to announce that one was taking over, I am afraid we would be laughed at quite a lot for something that silly.” She responded with a wink at Weaver.
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