The Will and The Flame (Kaybee x Turncoat)

[Kaybee]

Oaken trunks and stone spires reached skywards to mark a district controlled by the Selesnyan conclave, a place where the city blurred into the wilds that had once held sway over the plane. Patterned stone intertwined with the strength of nature itself, a node for both green and white mana.

Chandra detested the sense of weakness that this place brought her. Amidst pale robed Selesnyans and the deep browns and greens of centaurs her crimson and brass stood out like a beacon and she had avoided the crowds as best she could. The mana in this district was wrong, stronger by far than it should have been and that had drawn her. It was not energy that she could channel, a drawback of her attunement to the red mana of the world and the reason why her strength wavered and ebbed as she made her way deeper into guild territory.

As a planeswalker she was not meant to be here even but the paired nature of so much of Ravnica's mana had drawn her once the plane had opened up again. Each guild held a single place where a great wellspring of these fused colors flowed like water but Selesnya seemed to hold two. An imbalance of power that made Chandra wonder. Their base was clear, the great city-tree they called Vitu-Ghazi, so what could be the source of such a similar level of power here?

Curious and impulsive as her affinity would suggest, this was why Chandra Nalaar wandered through a dusty second floor hallway. It irked her to sneak and steal through the city rather than merely demand answers but the difference in power and the lack of pure red mana for her to draw on made her wary, and willing to quash some of her pride for the sake of survival.

 

[Turncoat]

The living Guildpact was a bit tired. Tired of dealing with other people's problems and wars, mucking around in worlds and starting conflicts which the consequences of he rarely understood. He was tired of it all. But that didn't stop him. If he had limits, he couldn't afford to know them.

Jace wasn't too fond of the Selesnyans, not after the complicated situation he had went through with Emmara. It wasn't her fault really, but that didn't make him feel any better. The mind sculptor was tired of the difficulties that entered his life, but like the mind itself, he weathered on. Most people called him a survivor when the flames had died and people laid hurt around him. He thought of it as a bit of cowardice.

It was already going to be one of those days he predicted. It was supposed to be a cursory investigation into the Selesnyan conclaves mana. Frankly, he felt a little naked without blue mana around, but it made him feel much better to remember that he still had his telepathy abilities were still viable to him. He was smart enough to know by now to never go into a situation unarmed.

Jace Beleren was a little impressed by the sheer volume of nature within the conclave, how everything seemed to work together. Not that he always approved of their methods however, and he was clearly not trying to be seen. His hood was up, his face particularly shadowed. Rather to see than to be seen.