Post by Rosalia on Apr 23, 2020 18:18:32 GMT -5
Ah, the royal capital. Always Nobles and Aristocrats behind every corner that she needed to bow to or do her best to avoid. There were also Blue Roses members here and there that she could feel give her the stink eye for transferring, but frankly, she didn’t give a fuck about them. It was certainly a scandal of some mediocre scale that she found entertaining, but it was behind her for the most part. If the Blue Rose Knights still had a problem with her, they could take it up with her in private. Or she could finally get a go at their judgmental faces publically.
The air around her dropped temperature significantly as she thought back to the pale-haired witch that had recently been announced the “Vice-Captain of the Blue Roses” and rolled her eyes visibly. Yeah, she was glad she didn’t have to deal with that as her superior, she could barely stand her anyways.
Shaking her head, Rosalia brought herself back to reality as her turn arrived at the line of gourmet sandwiches. She ordered the traditional chicken with pastrami, something she used to have all the time when she lived close to the Royal Capital and waited silently for the order as her eyes travelled around the area for suspicious individuals. The red-head was on a mission over the next few days, so she’d tied her Black Bulls mantle over her shoulders to symbolize her business mentality. It was easy to spot the eyes that wandered to her Magic Knight mantle before going down the rest of her body and seemingly proceeding to get back to whatever they were doing. It had been the same in the Blue Roses, so it didn’t bother her for naught.
Taking her sandwich and paying the chef, the witch headed over to the Grand Magic Archives with in a relaxed pace. She had to learn about the basics of archeology, ancient snake spirits, jungles and dark magic, topics which already rendered her more excited that other missions would. At heart, Rosalia was a magic nerd of epic proportions. She could spend days in the library with barely any food or drink if she was interested in a topic. The phrase “workaholics anonymous” was lost to her ages ago, and she was mentally prepping herself to sleep over in the library. She knew the librarian anyways; she’d worked for him for a few months. The old man was agreeable once he found out her sincere love for books and knowledge, and sometimes even gave her one of his famous mugs of red tea.
A chuckle left her lips as she found herself once again at the familiar doorstep of her favourite library. It had been a solid month since she’d moved away. Prior to that she’d be here for hours on her days off. She wondered if the librarian had noticed she was missing?
Her heels clicked up the marble steps and she pushed past the twirling doors into the Grand Magic Archives, raising an eyebrow at the missing librarian. Perhaps he was busy today? Or went out to get coffee? Whatever the case, the woman kneeled down and untied the laces of her thigh-high boots, slipping them off of her legs so as to not disturb the other readers within the establishment. This was the one place that she didn’t want to attract attention. This was the one place where she just wanted to sit down and read in silence. Sink into the words on the pages and breathe in the essence of the structured sentences that tell a story. The smell of old pages never bothered her. She enjoyed the eerie warm light of the sun as it illuminated the specs of dust as she read.
Her eyes followed the labyrinth of shelves, looking for books on what she needed to research in order to be proficient in the knowledge she’d need for a jungle expedition. The very first book she picked up was one called “Jungles, conjuring and everything about witch doctors,” which sounded somewhat accurate to what she was looking for. The next one was a book on old legends from the Forsaken Region and then finally a thick leather-bound tome about dangerous curses and necromancy experiments. It rubbed her the wrong way, that last read, but it was for work.
The red-haired witch walked around the library, tiptoeing to find her favorite spot in the labyrinth- the “S” section where a comfortable green carpet spread over the parquet floor and provides a perfect quiet spot to lose oneself between the pages.
Sitting down on top of it, the redhead got comfortable as she placed the books besides her and pulled the first read open, scanning through it. She learned about the basics of the rainforests and how they formed jungles. The canopy-like layers and the way it rained hellwater from the sky daily. The soil was full of nutrients and yet washed away everyday if it wasn’t held down by the roots of powerful trees. Animals and mana-beasts alike were dangerous and prowled around 24/7. There were even poisonous frogs that could kill or paralyze on touch and giant flowers that smelled like raw meat.
Rosalia blinked at all of this information and re-read it again, to make sure she wasn’t crazy. Clover wasn’t exactly known for locations such as these. But the Forsaken Region tended to always surprise. The second book, a smile rose to her pretty plump lips as she flipped it open. She loved mythology with passion. Her eyes scanned through the pages as she looked for one particular story.
The story of the Prideful Witch of the West. A woman who pursued power at the expense of the people in her village and sacrificed them to pursue immortality. She was condemned by an ancient god of the skies for tricking the villagers to help her perform a ritual, and so she was turned into an ugly poisonous mamba. She got her eternal life though, bound to a temple of gold where no-one worshipped her, her skin rotting away over the centuries.
The red-head flipped the book closed, sighing at the imagery. Fucking hell. If that was what she was going to be facing on her trip, she certainly hoped that it was only a myth. If they found nothing, she wouldn’t exactly complain.
The last book, the one on necromancy displeased her further. It spoke of specters and the ability of powerful wizards to animate the dead. It also spoke of people being able to channel such magic into placing curses on themselves to live forever. The word “phylactery” was mentioned a few times, connected to the term “liches.” And then there was a brief mention of the unproven power of silver and gold over the cursed or the undead, which she raised an eyebrow at.
Rosalia was too poor to own a metal akin to that in any way. Jewelry and expensive things were something she’d grown without and never had a taste for. Those were noble and royal things. She’d stick to her good books, tasteful clothes and cheap drinks.
With a sigh, the woman checked the books out of the Grand Magic Archives and took them to her rented tavern room for the evening, making sure to re-read the information before she had to meet Ilhiana Vones the next morning.
WC: 1231
The air around her dropped temperature significantly as she thought back to the pale-haired witch that had recently been announced the “Vice-Captain of the Blue Roses” and rolled her eyes visibly. Yeah, she was glad she didn’t have to deal with that as her superior, she could barely stand her anyways.
Shaking her head, Rosalia brought herself back to reality as her turn arrived at the line of gourmet sandwiches. She ordered the traditional chicken with pastrami, something she used to have all the time when she lived close to the Royal Capital and waited silently for the order as her eyes travelled around the area for suspicious individuals. The red-head was on a mission over the next few days, so she’d tied her Black Bulls mantle over her shoulders to symbolize her business mentality. It was easy to spot the eyes that wandered to her Magic Knight mantle before going down the rest of her body and seemingly proceeding to get back to whatever they were doing. It had been the same in the Blue Roses, so it didn’t bother her for naught.
Taking her sandwich and paying the chef, the witch headed over to the Grand Magic Archives with in a relaxed pace. She had to learn about the basics of archeology, ancient snake spirits, jungles and dark magic, topics which already rendered her more excited that other missions would. At heart, Rosalia was a magic nerd of epic proportions. She could spend days in the library with barely any food or drink if she was interested in a topic. The phrase “workaholics anonymous” was lost to her ages ago, and she was mentally prepping herself to sleep over in the library. She knew the librarian anyways; she’d worked for him for a few months. The old man was agreeable once he found out her sincere love for books and knowledge, and sometimes even gave her one of his famous mugs of red tea.
A chuckle left her lips as she found herself once again at the familiar doorstep of her favourite library. It had been a solid month since she’d moved away. Prior to that she’d be here for hours on her days off. She wondered if the librarian had noticed she was missing?
Her heels clicked up the marble steps and she pushed past the twirling doors into the Grand Magic Archives, raising an eyebrow at the missing librarian. Perhaps he was busy today? Or went out to get coffee? Whatever the case, the woman kneeled down and untied the laces of her thigh-high boots, slipping them off of her legs so as to not disturb the other readers within the establishment. This was the one place that she didn’t want to attract attention. This was the one place where she just wanted to sit down and read in silence. Sink into the words on the pages and breathe in the essence of the structured sentences that tell a story. The smell of old pages never bothered her. She enjoyed the eerie warm light of the sun as it illuminated the specs of dust as she read.
Her eyes followed the labyrinth of shelves, looking for books on what she needed to research in order to be proficient in the knowledge she’d need for a jungle expedition. The very first book she picked up was one called “Jungles, conjuring and everything about witch doctors,” which sounded somewhat accurate to what she was looking for. The next one was a book on old legends from the Forsaken Region and then finally a thick leather-bound tome about dangerous curses and necromancy experiments. It rubbed her the wrong way, that last read, but it was for work.
The red-haired witch walked around the library, tiptoeing to find her favorite spot in the labyrinth- the “S” section where a comfortable green carpet spread over the parquet floor and provides a perfect quiet spot to lose oneself between the pages.
Sitting down on top of it, the redhead got comfortable as she placed the books besides her and pulled the first read open, scanning through it. She learned about the basics of the rainforests and how they formed jungles. The canopy-like layers and the way it rained hellwater from the sky daily. The soil was full of nutrients and yet washed away everyday if it wasn’t held down by the roots of powerful trees. Animals and mana-beasts alike were dangerous and prowled around 24/7. There were even poisonous frogs that could kill or paralyze on touch and giant flowers that smelled like raw meat.
Rosalia blinked at all of this information and re-read it again, to make sure she wasn’t crazy. Clover wasn’t exactly known for locations such as these. But the Forsaken Region tended to always surprise. The second book, a smile rose to her pretty plump lips as she flipped it open. She loved mythology with passion. Her eyes scanned through the pages as she looked for one particular story.
The story of the Prideful Witch of the West. A woman who pursued power at the expense of the people in her village and sacrificed them to pursue immortality. She was condemned by an ancient god of the skies for tricking the villagers to help her perform a ritual, and so she was turned into an ugly poisonous mamba. She got her eternal life though, bound to a temple of gold where no-one worshipped her, her skin rotting away over the centuries.
The red-head flipped the book closed, sighing at the imagery. Fucking hell. If that was what she was going to be facing on her trip, she certainly hoped that it was only a myth. If they found nothing, she wouldn’t exactly complain.
The last book, the one on necromancy displeased her further. It spoke of specters and the ability of powerful wizards to animate the dead. It also spoke of people being able to channel such magic into placing curses on themselves to live forever. The word “phylactery” was mentioned a few times, connected to the term “liches.” And then there was a brief mention of the unproven power of silver and gold over the cursed or the undead, which she raised an eyebrow at.
Rosalia was too poor to own a metal akin to that in any way. Jewelry and expensive things were something she’d grown without and never had a taste for. Those were noble and royal things. She’d stick to her good books, tasteful clothes and cheap drinks.
With a sigh, the woman checked the books out of the Grand Magic Archives and took them to her rented tavern room for the evening, making sure to re-read the information before she had to meet Ilhiana Vones the next morning.
WC: 1231
