What comes...{Open}

[Vexademus]

Vexademus stared at the parchment she was writing on. A pause of hand near the ink bottle, fingers up and quill at the ready to dip into the ichor. But the sorceress seemed distracted in just the last few minutes. It was like blood had been dripped into a basin, her thoughts curling, coiling, and spreading out to dissipate and dissolve. A lean forward in a soft exhale, streaked locks that were held in a gently arrested style with a few stragglers hanging forth offered some curtain to her periphery. It was as if the arcane words made little sense to her eyes and her own focus grew blurry. She'd been at learning the last language for a while now this evening after working the counter at the apothecary. She still harbored the container of ashen lye condensed in the hearth of that place, mouth still tasting of the ginger and dried ginseng tea. Oh. Tea. Aye.

Rising from her seat with a push of legs to scoot her distance from desk, she rounded the furniture and walked to the door of her room, scratching her cheek and getting some of that undried ink on herself. A twist of knob and she opened her door, onyx robes dragging seemingly tired alongside her shuffling feet as she passed through the portal. Butterfly lashes shadowed those light mahogany eyes while she pulled the door shut with a few steps behind her and began to descend the stairs. The path walked would lead through the students hallway and to the foyer of the Promethean entrance. It was a trek to find something cold to drink. Or maybe to eat. Vexademus wasn't too sure anymore. It was late.

The fae language was still fresh on her mouth as she licked a few syllables free, naming things that she spied on her way towards one of the many kitchens in that too sweet and intense oral practice.
"Flower. Floor. Pretty...", she happened to pass a golden haired elf and couldn't help but think about the attendant that roamed the hallways of the Dome mostly nude with that pale cream skin and penchant for soft underthings. It was proper that she was able to say that word and think solely of that creature. It fit. Shaking her head, the mage rubbed her face and continued on absently, finding herself somewhat lost. At first.

There was a slowing and then an ultimate stop as she figured out exactly where her feet had carried her. She smelled the scent of moss, of deep earthen stone. How did she suddenly come to a place that the woman wasn't supposed to visit by herself? She was that tired. But she couldn't help it. The force that drew her here was inevitable. Too strong. And it'd been so long since she'd watched the digging take place. It was something so fascinating! Finding a small stone strut to settle on while she listening to the chisels and small hammers that rung over one another. Her eyes were starting to lower and she was lulling into a rhythmic relaxed hypnosis before she caught herself nodding and her lips moving. Sniffing, she touched the back of her hand to her nose, drawing away to see what looked like some small bloody droplets on her skin. The witch brought her sleeve to dab at her nose. It was stopped as soon as it started. Odd. How long had that been going on? What did she say? Her heart had jolted and now mind was on keen alert as she rose and began to return to where she needed to be. The mageling needn't speak about this to her mentor. It was just a coincidence.

Wasn't it?

[Vexademus]

"What? This can't be right..."

But yet, there it was. Seemingly plain as day. A smutty, but detailed guide on how to please a pixie. In that Gaean language. "What in all of the fucking hells?"

She was angry. She was downright furious. This - this first piece was supposed to be her trophy, her accomplishment, her win. The magess's hand clenched tightly, nails digging into hands that had been spreading over documents, scrolls, tomes, learning languages, re-writing for practice and speaking. The hours....the hours! Were they all a waste? Was all the writings across the land made of this? Just plastered obscenity and not the magicks that she and others just knew were out there to be harvested?

Pacing, the witch cursed with such profanity that she could have sworn something inside of her organs pulled taut and popped. Stopping, she grabbed at her midsection, the corset-tight black velvet arch magi robes not even giving much room to breath but still weaving in the loose parts as if risen with sentient life. When she moved, it was as if shadowy kelp moved with her, reacting to the air as if it were tidal flow. Taking a deep breath, the woman tried to calm herself and remained bent at the waist a bit, feeling as though she had suddenly a runny nose.

PLOP PLOP

Two very red droplets hit the marble floor of the small experimentation room she happened to be deciphering in. Where there stood only a smooth off-white pedestal, a straight surfaced table about four by five by three, and a singular set of plain looking dining chair of the same off-white. Where there lay what she'd been decrypting, a small simple sheet of parchment that was nearly all the way faded, on the table and she'd walked from it - now half bent with hand fisted at her stomach and other hand on the placid windowless wall. She stared at the brilliant color and knew immediately it was from her nose. Reaching up, she went to wipe free the fluid, only to find that it wasn't leaking from her nose. They were tears. Bloody tears. Looking at them in astonishment, her first instinct was to stare and wonder. And then her eyes began to burn and she shut them once and then began to blink as more blood awash in salty fluid cried from her eyes. Wiping free, she was a mess.

And the first place she wished to go was to the core room. To the mine. And to the stones. But why? What good were they to a half-blinded sorcerous like she? But in her mind, this was where she needed to go. Gathering what sane dignity she had left, she shielded her burning eyes and left the room, walking with careful and slow steps towards the path through the Dome that would take her to the mine.

[Vexademus]

She pinched the bridge of her nose in thought, head bowed while in serious legislation. The same words rang in her head again and again. This morning had seen her watching the sun rise at the left of the Temple Door's entrance. Another night of broken sleep. The feast prepared for her the night before had been nibbled at with some larger bites taken, but not enough by his blue eyes' estimation. Rezith had prepared for her something so delicious and with the amount of food now harvested from the humid lands, his repertoire was even larger to choose from. His caretaking was deep and dense, and very well needed. Many had been near the magess but none had committed to her like the moriel.

Looking up from her inventories and lists of books that had arrived today to fill up the last spaces allowed, she shifted them aside and rose. Diaphanous was the gown as it straightened, hem touching the carpeted floor and whispering across her ankles as she took to a slow stroll. Hands found each other as she spread steps down the stairs, exiting the Dome keep, soaking in the heat and the scents, the sheer beginning of the day.

The finished second floor of the Great Dome was now ready to open and begin the eventual fill and hiring of personnel to care for the "guests" that it was built to house. These included, but not limited to; small kennels for Dethstrier pups, earthshaper beetles, large mesh atrium for Dethatiels (amongst other birds), stone bats, chameleon rabbits, ground mouthers, and so many more. The enchanted glass aquariums to host the insects and their preference of prey were large as well.

All of the work had been assured to meet quality standards to the Dome's leader. Vexademus assumed that he'd signed off on these and basically was silent, in effect, giving her the go-ahead. Of which began today. Plans began to form of discovery studies and captures that would see many species housed within the Menagerie. So, why wasn't she ecstatic?

Walking a good ways to the hedge maze off to the back of the estate building, she glanced upwards with a shielding to eyes and wondered about the fourth floor of the place. The master had been gone so long this time without word. He hadn't sent missive recently nor had he made an attempt to send further orders for the Towers on where to proceed and what to plan next. She'd almost finished her last command; finish the Menagerie and fill it.
"My comings and goings are none of your concern. I took you as apprentice, not as a slave, I need not be here to hover over you every second of the day..or even every day, for that matter," she heard Infernis's words sluice through her memory. As if reminding herself of the rest of the conversation, there was an absent and useless touch near her forearm. Normally, she would be running fingertips on hidden dagger sheath sewn into one of her robes' voluminous sleeves.
All there was to do now was to plan the capture excursions into the jungles and plains and beaches. Perhaps they could even capture some sea creatures?

The mageling gazed out over the estate from her position, cherry wood gaze squinted out over the shaped bushes, statues, and regal-seeming carved stone decorations. So much of herself went into this place. The woman was carving out her monument. Into the ruins that already lay here. Into the land that had charmed her into submission.

Previous words of her mentor rang in her head and seemed to mix into one another as she thought about her next step in Dethsiris. It was in his voice, rich in strange prophecy: "Love has no place in such relationships. Affection, yes. Sex? Yes. But, not love. Love leads to downfall, every time."

And at that time, she was beloved to magic, it owned her. In the present, things were changed. She was changed; transformed. From him. To him. All was beginning to fall into place. The culmination of several tasks coming to a close and new ones opening wide with toothy maws, inviting her to walk right in. In some ways, she was already damned. And already embracing the coming punishment. Whether or not she was ready to wear any such mantle to be laid on her shoulders would be known when it finally happened.

Rezith; the only one whose voice swam in her blood constantly to keep her in check. Her shadow. He was, without a doubt, her main focus. A goal in which to share her successful victory of the taming of Gaea's Breast. His wisdom led her and shielded her. But she couldn't shake the feeling of selfishness in this. That she only did it for her own means. So fucking be it.

The status and mantle that she strove for would be for her. For her to protect him. To shower him. To keep him. The mantle of such power would come first. Even if she had to disabuse herself of the notions of good reasoning for all that she did. It was all for the power. And it, her magic...would again...come first. Always.

[Vexademus]

Situated just outside of the grand hedge maze, underneath the yurt-pulled tent; sat the magess. New Lady of Dethsiris. Loving caretaker to the giant draft horse SomeWhere. And immediately companion to Big Sugar; the mephos whom upon hatching, had exhibited such strange unique qualities that seemed to make the beast more than an excellent fit for the odd mage.

She crossed one leg over another, half-braiding limb under that Naked Bird signature lace dress made by Caolan, the golden haired tailor favored by the caster. Leaning back, she brought a glass of mixed liquor and juice to her lips, drinking deeply. Once the glass was drained, she held it up to the long shadowed light of fading day, peering through the transparent container and pondering what one year can do to a whole perspective of a human.

There was a glance to the inside of her left wrist, the woman setting down the glass and using that same hand to swipe over the wizard mark there. "A". Soft swipe of fingertips traced it and it hummed with touch. The mark was a part of her as if she was born with it. Curl of that rose mouth as she traced it again. There was a distinct thankfulness in the gesture, a warmth that swirled and quieted her mind, focusing it.

Menagerie was finished, the library thrived, the creatures inside the Great Dome were well suited and settled and more were to come. The previous words had once again found her and seemed rather blurry and ludicrous. She'd known the navy skin of her former moriel companion and thought him one for her heart and soul. Indeed, he'd been the striving ambition she had been fueled by. But again, human hearts burned hot and fast and many times, in different directions all at once.

Magic held sway still over the woman who wore mithril scales buried intimately into her skin. Her heart was lovingly cradled within the noble drak Lord Archaon's hands. And Lady Vexademus had accomplished many things; including being almost brought to her knees in front of a divine draconic presence in the midst of the middle ballroom that was the center of the Great Dome; the words had wrung tears from her eyes as she received the language, "Chosen".

But she would would still strive on. For what work could ever be done of one that was so enamored of aether and magic that it would ever be completed without her? And at her upcoming young age of 27, so much had already been accomplished...