Thread: Oaths Twice Writ, Thrice Sworn (Umbrale & Erit)

For a man of such prestige and almost regal, if just a bit relaxed, pose, Brivear only tilted up a small smile to the proceedings. Of course, he did give a polite, if brushing-away nod to Lucian, when the father of the Cadence's strolled through the door outfitted in entourage of arcana-magical triage. The curiousity of Chase's eyes, however, brought forth the lifting of a single brow, thoughtful and pondering, perusing the situation with an eye that was intrigued by both the confusion and possibilities of the sign. A totem that couldn't be seen, for one thing, was unheard of. But to second it up with what one could only easily assume was the appearance of a genetic mutation in a regal bloodline of a nigh-perfect quality? That was certainly to be the topic of debate, research, and more than a little curious panic throughout the Cadence family. When the young mage rose from his bed, and donned his shoes once more, uttering humble apologies to his technical boss, the patriarch gave but a dismissive wave, and a curt nod, ushering the newly-fledged mage from the room.By all means, do take care of my heart, he almost jokingly said to Chase, although the glance to the only female in the room was one pointed with the emotion of a father. The return glance to the younger male--hidden by Chase's back-turned to the winged kitsune--was one with a bit more mystery to its gleam. The patriarch had never spoken of his own opinion towards the two aloud, at least not to those that would have spread it. It was a mystery to both Alisia and Chase, but one that had long-since came to an unspoken acceptance of given that he easily allowed their relationship to continue. After all, but a word would separate them forever, and it had been more than a few times that Uncle Brave had allowed his heiress to skip the remainder of a lesson or a duty to run of with her playmate. Those sparkling eyes of ember hull followed the male from the room, before the body lifted with a fluid grace. Attention was diverted fully to the other most regal male in the room, locking cold steel to copper coals. Now, Lucian, we have things to discuss... ---------- What was there to dream about? A better question to be would have been, why was there nothing being dreamt? Alisia found herself in an abyss, a dark space of endless volume, drifting in non-existent air, in a non-existent form, just existing . The primal fey's dreams rarely had meaning that was apparent, although some could interpret them. Despite that, they always dreamed being tied into the natural magic of the world meant that you felt what came and went. The use of others around you could drift in thoughts. A blurry memory. A shape of a being. The flow, the melody, the magic of.... well, magic, cradled you in its arms like a mother singing the sweet nothings of a made-up lullaby to a baby that slept soundly well-enough. But the frightening part was the nothingness. Rather, there was something, it just wasn't there . It was in the background of a place that had no background. The CSS in a tab that was separate from the HTML. Magic was there, it was apparent, alive, and thriving, but it was muted. The sensation could easily be described as being a claustraphobe in a tiny, cramped little room, but with the most beautiful landscape painting thriving in a perfect work scrawled across every surface of the enclosure. But suddenly, a brilliant flash, an explosion in the darkness of nothing. Warmth! Alisia turned what form she didn't have, to face the brilliantness, only for it to wink out of existence. Like an anomaly in space, appearing with the force of a sun, only to retract back into itself, winking right back out of what didn't exist, as if its own presence called itself back. Again, it happened, again, again, and with focus Alisia could feel that warmth more keenly. Calming, soothing . The sweet nothings that a mother sang, but with a softer sorrow. She would have to leave her child tomorrow, for work, just in the hands of another. Day in and day out, work day after another, and before long, the child would be gone. Out into the world, never forgetting, and always checking, but never there again. The emotion that came through that warmth stirred butterflies in a stomach and sobered a buzz. ----------- The crackling neon-blueness of those twin irises fluttered open, blinking hypnotic black lashes away to focus a blurry gaze in on a breakfast-in-bed, and a Much more scrumptious... fellow reclining in her own chair no less besides her. Alisia's room was something set apart from the world she lived in, much like herself, it seemed. Like bedroom, like owner, apparently given the massive beanbag of a thing that sat next to several bookcases an overly extensive personal library that a rare few had laid eyes upon, especially considering the mage's absence from her room as of quite-a-late. A desk, formal and neat, with a few notepads and sketchbooks strewn about it. From what could be seen of one laying partially-open, the indiscernible-from its half-closed angle--illustration gleamed and glowed with colors that didn't exist in natural hue. One of her earliest feats in what magic the kitsune had been seen using, the heiress at the age of only a half-dozen years devised a way of seeping a prismatic element of magic through a phoenix-feather a happenstance that had occured when, crayon no cowerful enuff! had come into contact with her father's study. The lances of glowing rainbow-streaks and spirals of a dizzying array of colors across every discernible surface in reach had been the story of the manor for years, a subject of both mirth and bittersweet annoyance from her father. Across the room, a full-length mirror held in polished silver furnishing adorned the wall, with a bit of space about it to preen one's appearance. Much to the chagrin of the Memoiri family, magic only went so far to help with angles almost unreachable what-with the extra animalistic bits and stylist-adaptations. The paint-scheme, a darker marine-blue that gave the place a calming, quiet vibe, clashed into a stark contrast with the crystal globes arrayed in the corners of the room--soundproofed room far in advance courtesy of Lucian--along the ceiling, with the hub of the expensive tech being a sphere for neon-pink, half-embedded in the wall beside the winged-kitsune's nightstand. The synthpop and dubsteap-like wubs that blared from the place would wake half the mansion, had it not been for the Cadence-head's foresight into the problem. Her royal, if overly-large bed--despite being banister-style, it sported an oversized cushion, a ridiculous amount of blankets, and enough stuffed animals to suffocate one with-- fit her frame even with her wings splayed-out, it would be difficult to cinch at a wrong angle in sleep. Aww, a dutiful servant brought his most cherished of mistress' breakfast in bed! How darling of you, Chase..., the winged kitsune's mocking-sweet voice chimed up without a beat. She rose quickly, however, an audible growl from her stomach speaking in a quite unlady-like manner that she had not eaten in what was at least a short while. If you wouldn't mind, Chay..., the word slipped free from her mouth almost casually a nickname much-akin to the intimacy that Alis held in reciprocation. If she noticed, however, Alisia didn't seem to care, continuing without so much as a pause for breath, ... It's been sixteen hours, and I'm famished. Be a doll and feed me?, the kitsune cocked her head and shot the young mage those puppy-dog-pout of eyes, one ear even going so far as to twitch down and old at the tip, completing the irresistible look. Slender, if slightly plush, lips parted slightly, neon eyes flashing with a challenge that one could almost guess was made to retort at compassion required for the ride back to her room.