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Playing the Game [ Chai & Razgriz ]

C

Chai

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ＰＬＡＹＩＮＧ ＷＩＴＨ ＦＩＲＥ__—⊱__ｉｆ ｉ ＢＵＲＮ， ｙｏｕ ｄｏ._____________
___________________________________ｂｕｔ ｉｆ ｉ ＨＵＲＴ， ｙｏｕ ｗｏｎ`ｔ
___________________________________________________________________ｗｏｎ`ｔ
_________________________________________________________________________________ｗｏｎ`ｔ ｌｅｔ ｉｔ.
( sᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ sᴛᴀʏ ᴜᴘ﹐ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ_____________________
_____________ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴜᴘ﹐ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ
`ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇʀ
______________________________sᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴜᴘ. )​
 
RE: Along Came Trouble [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Somewhere in the Siberian tundra​
Cold. Dark.

A young woman stepped out onto the thick snow, sinking a few inches before settling on the hardened layer underneath. She was covered head to toe in thick winter-wear, the puffy black pants and equally puffy black jacket swallowing her diminutive frame; even her face was covered in a black wool balaclava, leaving her eyes as the only visible feature of her body. Those eyes, an unusual deep violet with golden hues radiating from the pupil, looked up to the dim lighting of the stars scattering the pitch-black sky, only to shut them tight as a gust of freezing wind seemed to cut through her face mask and leave a chill that traveled down her spine and into her legs. She shivered despite the multiple layers of clothing and pouches of chemical warmers that she had slipped into her mittens and boots. They had now proven to be completely useless, and she frowned, annoyed with the weather.

A flash of bright, white light illuminated the air around her, and for a moment she saw the complete emptiness that was the Arctic: a stretch of mostly flat ground that seemed to go on for a few miles was covered by a thick sheet of snow, and small hills surrounded sprang up in the distance. If not for the glistening white and below-freezing temperature, they could have been standing in a desert; it would have looked the same anyway, with the wind-blown dusting of snow like a paler sand, just as lonely and God-forsaken as the Sahara. In fact, why couldn't she have been sent there instead? She would have rather endured the warm desert winter than the harsh cold of the tundra. Why?

"Ellastaria." A gentle male tenor voice, decorated with a faint Italian accent, pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned around to look at the similarly-dressed tall man who, like she had, used magic to teleport from a small Russian town on the northern habitable part of Siberia to the middle of absolute nowhere. But, unlike her, he had chosen to appear in a dazzle of light and flourish. He was like that, her father. Always showing off even when no one was looking. Or maybe someone was looking; magicians often learned to hide themselves even in the most open of locations, and considering their destination she wouldn't have been surprised to find quite a few warlocks or witches prowling around, especially at night. She simply stared at him, one eyebrow raised (hidden from view by the mask, of course, but she knew he could tell what her expression was), until he gestured for her to follow him, walking a few steps to the right before stopping abruptly. "Light, please," he asked.

The girl slipped off one of the large mittens, wincing slightly as the cold bit into her fingers, but gladly conjured up a large light source. She could have done it with the mitten on—the poly-blend mitten was definitely not a hindrance to her magical energy—but she enjoyed the feeling of channeling the magic through a bare hand. And right now she enjoyed the warmness that came with the champagne glow of the light radiating down on her palm. With curious eyes, she watched as her father removed both of his own mittens and murmured nearly inaudible lines, all while touching specific points in the space in front of him. It rippled like water, each touch to the air, until he stepped back and let the ripples break backwards in a curved, dome-like action, revealing what they had come for: a solid concrete circular building, towering in the Arctic plains, with no windows and only a single visible entrance that protruded from the cylindrical structure. The heavy metal door looked as drab and grey as everything else, and the entire structure seemed to emit a mood that said TURN BACK NOW. Not that she expected anything else. It was a prison after all. Periculosus, the world's storage house for the most dangerous warlocks and witches, magicians, wizards, and sorcerers, was kept hidden away from literally everything and everyone.

"Lovely place," she commented under her breath, following her father to the front of the building. She leaned her neck back to look at the height while the door opened with a soft creak, the wind blowing snow through the entryway. How many people did this place hold? The question hung in her mind even after she slipped through to a concrete hallway lit by fluorescent lamps, and she extinguished the light in her hand as the relief of room temperature flooded her body. Another shiver ran down her spine, this time in relaxation as if to shake the cold out of her system, and she unzipped the bulky jacket to slip it off, grateful to be rid of the extra weight. They came to a second door then, and before either of them touched it, it was opened by a man on the other side.

"Lorencio," the even taller man greeted the Italian warmly, shaking his hand and ushering father and daughter inside. "Ah, and Ellastaria. Welcome, to both of you. You can take warm clothes off now. Siberia is cold out there but is okay in here." His Russian accent matched his appearance; he was tall, muscular, and ruggedly chiseled in the face, and with the way he dressed one could only guess that he was the warden of the facility.

"Call me Stella," the young woman corrected mildly as she began to peel layers off her body, starting with the snow pants and working upward to finally remove the balaclava that covered her face. What was left was a 5'1" slim figure, obvious even in the leggings and large long-sleeved shirt that hung down just above mid-thigh. The expressive violet eyes were the only sharp quality of her face; soft-arching eyebrows framed them above while gentle cheekbones and baby cheeks filled out the rest of her slightly tan face, along with small lips and a tall nose. Honey-brown loose waves hung just below her shoulders, the cut and color somehow giving her a more mature aura in spite of her youth. Not many of her features were ones she shared with her father as he had classic Italian looks: thick graying eyebrows, an angular jaw and bone structure still visible despite his age, and full lips. Aside from the nose and violet eyes (though his ran more blue) they looked nothing alike, courtesy of her mother, a Mexican-Korean woman who had married into the Durante family.

Finger-combing through her hair, Stella inspected the interior of the prison, surprised to find it a lot more welcoming than what she had previously thought. Just by seeing the exterior, one would have gotten the impression that the facility was cold and unforgiving, dark and mostly frightening. Strangely, they were standing in what could have been the lobby of a good-quality hotel, with a wide glass window that looked out to the center of the building where a single guard tower stood erect in the middle, and rows of cells with glass doors lined the walls of the circular room. Just by the spacing of the doors she could tell that they were unequal in size, and some were completely transparent while others were dimmed, and still others had an additional steel door behind the glass. Stella tilted her head in minor confusion as she stared, taking a few steps forward to grab a better look at the detainees. One man was... eating a gourmet meal while watching something on the far wall, the change of lighting bathing his room in brightness and darkness each time a scene changed. Stella turned then, an eyebrow in an inquisitive arch and a question already forming on her lips, but she found the warden and her father deep in conversation.

"... For you Lorencio, for Stella, we have finest services," the warden said proudly, nodding his head.

"I want the best candidate you've got, Alexei. You know as well as I do that she'll need it."

"Yes, yes, of course. I show you, come."

"We already talked about this. You know who I want. Take me there."

Alexei paused momentarily and opened his mouth as if to refuse, then seemed to think better of it and instead nodded his head. "Okay. I show you."

The Russian led them out to the large circular room and to an elevator, but instead of taking them up, he inserted a key card into a slot which resulted in taking them down. The ride was silent, and Stella knew why; the warden obviously disagreed with whatever her father wanted, but he—or anyone else for that matter—was in no position to refuse Lorencio Durante. The Durante family was part of the Council of Ten, the ten most powerful families in the magical world. They were families of old status, old money, and old magic, and as such, they oversaw the politics of their world. The Durantes were easily the 3rd or 4th most powerful down the list, evident even in the type of magic that was inherited through their family line. Light-based magic was rare for any person of magical affinity, but it was practically owned by the Durantes, along with their unnatural violet eyes and stubborn temperament.

But even more significant was that Stella was now an even larger figure of importance. She was a queen. Well, she was going to be. Royalty in magical society was nothing more than a cultural tradition, a position passed down through time that now held little political importance more than being the face of society. However, it wasn't so much the position that was coveted, but the magical power that came with it. The chosen royalty weren't dangerous enough to be confined within the walls of Periculosus, but powerful enough to be envied. No one knew exactly how royalty was chosen, but everyone knew the signs: the silvery-white double-infinity tattoo called the Mark of Aricia, and some level of extraordinary magical talent.

At only 22, Stella was chosen quite early (most candidates were already into their 30s, still young by their slightly extended lifespans), and it was precisely this reason that she was standing in an elevator traveling down the depths of Periculosus. Shopping around for a bodyguard seemed like one of the best precautions to take against those who wished to see her harmed, dead, or otherwise wanted her for themselves. Not that she thought she needed one, but hey, whatever made her father sleep easier at night.

"This way," Alexei's voice sounded as the elevator doors opened, bringing the young woman's mind back to the task at hand. "If Dregs do good job, they get nice life. But not these ones. These ones too dangerous... But also do good job. And have okay life."

He shrugged and waved a hand around, gesturing at the cells around them. They were bigger now, with the same glass doors, but the amenities in these cells were a stark contrast to the cells on the above floors. They were largely plain and empty, and many of the imprisoned magicians had some sort of restraints on them. They arrived at a cell with a steel door behind the glass, and Alexei scanned a card on a keypad to the right of the glass doors before inputting the numerical code. The steel slowly slid up, revealing the occupant inside: a man with heavy chains attached to each limb, loose enough for him to move around the sizable room but lacking the length to reach the doors.

Alexei rapped on the glass like how one would tap on the glass of an animal exhibit at the zoo, then turned to the Durantes. "Each cell has magic suppression, but eh, is better for everyone to have them restrained... Ricendithas!" He barked out the name, and Stella's ears perked up. Why did that name sound so familiar...?
 
RE: Along Came Trouble [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Magic. A force mystified and shrouded in myth and superstition for so many years. For the children, the stories served as tales of wonder, of how it helped great heroes accomplish impossible feats to defeat the vilest forces of Darkness. For adults, it was often a tool to scare their juniors into compliance, telling of how those who knew it would corrupt them of the 'good' in their hearts. And for these reasons, those of the magical persuasion sought to fled as their colleagues, friends and lovers were hunted and persecuted. The mass killings in Salem, the Reformation in Central Europe, and that bastard King James of Scotland were but a fraction of the atrocities committed against magic users.

With this, the magically attuned formed their own society, their own government quickly being established as the Council of Ten. Under their leadership, the society grew and grew, becoming more and more advanced at a pace that would make even the development of electricity seem a cheap parlor trick. And like any society, there were social rungs, not unlike those of Victorian England. There were the rich elite, the royalty, the middle class and the poor.

Then there were the Dregs, a class of magic users all their own.

Though many of them were very skilled (a large number more so than even the Council of Ten), it was in fact this extreme power differential that contributed to them being feared and respected at the same time. The Dregs were often looked down upon as criminals and utter undesirables, better sentenced to life imprisonment or swift execution rather than a chance at a normal life. And it wasn't unfounded, not entirely; the majority of 'Dregs' were caught using their magical talents for crude experimentation and nefarious plots rather than working with the governments of the world and their own people to help solve real-life problems. In other words, menaces to society aptly described them. And like every society, it was these bad apples that gave even those with the best intentions a bad name, and from there anyone who earned the label 'Dreg' was beyond even the lowest of the low, a true bottomfeeder.

In the beginning, the governments of the world performed rough-shod 'Dreg hunts' in attempts to lure these warlocks and witches out and eliminate them, using the power of their own arcane masters alongside normal human soldiers to accomplish their objectives. The results were far less than satisfactory: For every Dreg eliminated, twenty to forty 'good citizens' died. In the end, the Council of Ten coincided with the powers of the 'normal' world to construct specialized detention centers. And with this, a message was sent to the Dregs: Remove themselves voluntarily from society and be provided with a modest but comfortable place to reside, or continue to be hunted without relent.

Naturally, there was next to no voluntary enrollment; who in their right mind would sacrifice their freedom just because some stuck-up bureaucrat didn't like the idea of magic users more powerful than them? No one, that was who. And so the hunting continued, the Council of Ten even going so far as to recruit Dregs to bring down other Dregs in exchange for lighter sentencing when and/or if they were captured. It was a nasty time, and those who were imprisoned became incredibly violent and angry. Some so much so they were executed almost instantly; it was clear another solution was needed.

One issue that was accounted for but underestimated in its severity was the buffer effect these rouge elements had: Many of the Dregs had in fact taken the role of paid mercenaries, hired on occasion by local town governments to quell threats to their prosperity. With them removed, these warring factions rose again, monsters attacking peaceful settlements and criminal elements vying for control of key cities. In an attempt to re-balance, House Durante brought forth to the Council of Ten a new policy: Council Order 2209 - D.I.R.T. (Dreg Initiative for Reintegration and Tenancy). Under this act, strict timetables and provisions were set in place such that if a 'Dreg' could prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he/she was not a threat to society, the prison warden was authorized to have them become an 'agent of the Council', performing incredibly dangerous missions in lieu of their own forces. Because if a Dreg died in the line of duty, it wasn't like there was a shortage, a replacement could always be found.

After a trial run, it was found to be incredibly successful and became widely adopted, much to the chagrin of the select elite. Those who performed well enjoyed certain perks, like extra cell accommodations and better food. And from there, once a certain period of service was attained and should no incidents of crime against the general populace be found committed, the Dreg would effectively earn their freedom and allow them to become full-fledged members of society. Some even earned their freedom through contracts with important families to serve such roles as a bodyguard, a house apothecary, or a resident scryer.

However, even with these hopes of eventual release, there were the select few who were deemed far too dangerous to ever be released. They were still rewarded, though to a lesser degree than their 'less dangerous' counterparts, and often had fewer (and consequently even more perilous) missions. As such, they were also often imprisoned at the very bottom, and in exceptionally well-warded prisons like Periculosus. One such individual was Ricendithas Wolfswift, sometimes known simply as 'Ric'. In his cell he sat on his haunches with his limbs bound in heavy chain, his clothing consisting of a heavy black cloak with strange bluish-white sigils lining the sleeves, black poly-blend shirt and, pants and strong leather gloves and boots. The magic-canceling sigils that lined the chains and walls glowed with active suppression, bathing the man in an eerie light. The hood of his cloak concealed his face, but thin silvery tendrils of hair could be seen from beneath the edge.

And he would not stir as Alexei pounded on the glass, remaining utterly still despite the jarring strength of his hammering. "Wolfswift! I know you can me, pizda! Today's the day!" Lorencio looked to his friend, "Is he sick or something?" Alexei just grimaced, "No, he's just being stubborn." Pounding again, he bellowed, "Ricendithas! Wake up! It's for your contract!"

Just then, all three of them would hear a voice, "Oh, come on, Alexei...Must you be so loud?" Lorencio and the Warden both turned to see none other than the warlock himself standing behind them. "What..." mouthed the Russian, looking back to see the warlock still crouched inside. "How did you...." he started to say, Ricendithas pressing a finger to the Russian's lips with a wicked grin on his own, "Shhh, let's not spoil this moment with words. The only thing I want to hear...is the sound of this pretty little lady screaming from the thralls of bliss." His visible eye, the iris a vibrant piercing green, gave him an aura that sound would consider borderline psychotic. Lorencio immediately stood in front of his daughter, "You won't lay a hand on her, animal...Alexei, I thought you said this prison was secure!" Now, the Warden was not a man easily frightened under most circumstances, but with HIM out of confinement he had reason enough to be scared.

Ricendithas took one step forward, Lorencio shouting "Rejicio!" and thrusting a palm forward, a beam of light shooting out and piercing Ric in the chest. As it faded, the warlock was left with a hole in his chest, eye staring down at it. Alexei looked back at his friend, Lorencio himself even in shock; that spell wasn't supposed to be lethal, not even close. Even under duress, the most it would normally do was give someone a sore chest for a while. Ric then looked back up, eye glinting with delight before wordlessly dissipating.

Only silence remained for a moment, before long a low laugh resonated throughout the hall. All eyes then went to the man in the chains, his voice muttering with glee. "Got you again, Alexei." The Russian's expression turned from stupefaction to indescribable rage, "Wolfswift, you goddamned little...I should just let you rot in there!" Ric just chuckled, "I've been rotting here for a while now...But even so, I know I won't be for much longer. You can try to tell me all you like that I can just be left here...But I know better. Mister Durante here will see to my release. Won't you, Lorencio?"

Ric then peered up, his uncovered eye looking right at his daughter, "And you must be Ellastaria Durante...My apologies, you prefer Stella, right? Suits me fine. You can just call me Ric." His grin grew even wider, "Yes, I can see why your father is going through so much trouble to protect you. You're a prize." Now it was Lorencio's turn to be annoyed, "Be silent, Dreg. You might earn your freedom through me, but we have means to ensure your cooperation, and to keep your hands where they belong. Away from my daughter." Ric sneered, "You wound me, Mister Durante. I would never dream of hurting such a lovely young lady. Unless she's into that sort of thing, hahaha."

Alexei then spoke to the Italian, "Lorencio, you and I are friends. Please, I beg you, choose another. A woman, perhaps. Sydney is two cells down, and she's quite skilled in potions. Would make for an excellent house doctor." Ric then piped up, "Would also give her an easy means to poison poor Stella without anyone being the wiser." Lorencio's brow furrowed, "No, from the stories I've heard and the people I've talked to, this man is one of the best there ever was. I want him...Now get him out of his cage."

Alexei sighed, snapping his fingers such that an iron key appeared out of seemingly nowhere, sliding the object into a spot where a keyhole normally would be. He then placed his fingertips on the surface and muttered 'Aperta', the glass door sliding down and allowing himself access. "Te obliges intra corde tuo fortitudo mea" Alexei then stated firmly; within seconds, the chains freed themselves from the walls and wrapped themselves around the warlock's form. "Surge et sequere" was his next statement, Ricendithas' form rising a few inches and starting to follow him as he backed out of the cell. "Kinky, kinky, Alexei...And here I was starting to think you were too vanilla for this sort of thing" Ricendithas joked, giving the princess a wink as they started to make their way back to the warden's office for the final 'checkout'.
 
RE: Along Came Trouble [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Somewhere in Siberia
Early-mid November​


"The illusion spell back there was kinda cool," Stella commented as she walked beside the chained man, her gaze fixed ahead even though she addressed him. Unlike her father, she had close to no accent in her speech, and if one listened closely enough they would be able to recognize the subtle inflection voiced in her vowels that served as the only indication of her childhood spent in the Tuscany countryside. "You really know how to put on a show. I've never seen anything like it. Honestly, it was... cute. Inappropriate, but cute. I remember the days when I made petty tricks for fun, too." The young woman turned to offer him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, then increased her pace slightly to be in line with Alexei and her father An added bounce to her step only served as further insult, as if to say, I know my place, now learn yours.

In actuality, Ric's illusion was admittedly impressive, and Stella knew that simply because illusion magic was something she excelled at. The talent came as part of her magic heritage; while most of her family excelled at only one aspect of light-based magic, she discovered early on that she had a knack for almost all the techniques derived from the manipulation of light. Creating illusions had always been one of her favorites, and she always appreciated great magic when she saw it, even if it was done by the likes of Ric. The backhandedness of the compliment was only because of the lewd commentary, especially since most of it had been directed toward her. The wink also had not gone unnoticed, but the joke had managed to make her smile (and roll her eyes). It was forgiveable.

"It's best you stay on her good side," Lorencio advised, glancing back while Alexei let out a chuckle. They entered the elevator now, with the prisoner floating smoothly in beside them. The four of them rode up in mostly silence, the hushed whispers of the Italian and Russian filling the enclosed space with words that neither Stella or Ric could make out. Then as the doors opened, Alexei let out another laugh before pushing his prisoner on the shoulder and directing him toward his office, opening the door and ushering his three guests inside. "I need to get the paperwork for the Council ready, which has been a giant headache because of this specific request... Finish the details of your contract here. I'll be back momentarily." He snapped his fingers, and Ric's floating form moved forward to be seated at one of the plush leather chairs in front of a heavy, hand carved mahogony desk. Lorencio took a seat in front of the chained man, and Stella stood leaning on the wall behind her father, inspecting the various knick-knacks that the Warden kept on a shelf behind his desk. Then the door was closed, and the trio stayed in silence until the elder Durante folded his hands on the desk.

"There are rules to be followed," Lorencio told Ricendithas, giving him a hard stare that made it obvious he was looking down on the Dreg from some level of unattainable status. He waived his hand impatiently, procuring a brown leather-bound book that he quickly flipped through and slid across the table. "The terms and conditions and other such legalese is detailed within those pages. Read it if you like, or don't read it. I don't really care." The head of House Durante stood up and rounded the corner of the desk, then leaned both arms on the reddish-brown wood, his palms flat on the surface. "I do, however, advise that you listen closely to what comes out of my mouth now: You are not to look, speak or touch her in any inappropriate manner. If she notifies me of anything remotely offensive, you'll find yourself back here with all hope of freedom gone. No contracts, not even for monster hunting. You will rot in your cell forever." He paused, searching the warlock's eyes for confirmation before continuing. "You are also not to harm her in any way, shape or form. If, for whatever reason, you decide not to abide by this rule, your execution will be ordered immediately. No trials, no prison. Dead. Understod?"

Without waiting for an answer, Lorencio straightened and stepped away from the desk, pacing slowly around the room as he spoke. "Of course, it's come to my attention that you may have... urges that need to be fulfilled." An expression of disgust flashed across his face, not unlike other members of proper Society at the mention of sexuality and carnal desire. Being highly sexual was a sign of low status not because of any moral or ethical standards, but because it meant you were like them. The Dregs. Crass, perverted, and unable to control their sexual desire, they were the sole reason that virginity and a conservative nature was highly respected within Society. "As such, you'll be allowed visitors as needed. Do keep in mind that you will be staying with Ellastaria, so whatever rules she makes are the ones you will be following." He looked over to his daughter expectantly, but she only shrugged.

"What you do in your time is none of my business," Stella said, "I honestly couldn't care less what you do, but I don't want to see or hear anything. I shouldn't be able to tell whether your nightly activities consist of watching paint dry, or making a woman supposedly 'scream from the thralls of bliss.' Or a man. It's okay, I don't judge." She threw in a sly quip of her own and raised an eyebrow at him, violet eyes glinting expressively as a tiny smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. Honey-brown hair gently flipped as she turned her head away after a short moment, crossing one leg over the other as her demeanor went from mildy amused to disinterested within the time span of mere seconds.

Lorencio cleared his throat, bringing attention back to the leather book that was now in his hands. "In the event that you never get around to reading it, know that this legal contract physically binds you to Ellastaria until she ascends to the throne, at which point she is free to release you should she wish to do so. If all of this sounds reasonable to you, sign here at the bottom." He opened the book to the last page where the impossibly small fine print ended, followed only by a line marked with an 'X'. Holding his palm down against the paper he murmured, "Sacramentum fidei," then watched as the oath spell caused it to faintly glow a light blue before returning to its normal color.

"Let me know if you have any questions or concerns," he finally finished, placing the document and a heavy fountain pen before Ricendithas, then stepped back to stand next to his daughter. The chains binding Ric rearranged themselves so his dominant hand was free to grasp and maneuver however he needed to, and Stella herself now looked on with seemingly renewed interest, her eyes flicking from the book to the warlock, then back to the book. Even if he didn't find the conditions satisfactory, he would be forced to sign anyway; beggars couldn't be choosers, and the Dregs were all beggars. Every single one of them.
 
RE: Along Came Trouble [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

"And just think, that little parlor trick was with me bound and suppressed." Ric stated confidently; backhanded her words might have been, he wasn't about to allow her to think herself clever. Of course, he had a feeling that she wasn't the type to really want anything to do with him. Not that he minded; being a bodyguard for someone who didn't want his protection was just fine. If it meant getting out of this damned prison and having a chance to stretch his legs, he'd sell his freaking soul. Alexei would hardly even let him out on missions anymore, God only knew why. The Russian said he was too dangerous, but Ric knew it was because he was too 'thorough'. He didn't just treat the symptoms, he went straight to the cause and burned it out.

In any event, he let these and other thoughts roam through his head - some of which were related to dear Stella and what she would be like without the clothes - as they made their way to the Warden's office. After being allowed to sit, he just grinned as Alexei marched out to get the rest of the paperwork. "Love you too." he called out, earning a small glare from Lorencio. Who then decided to go on a tirade about everything he already knew was coming at him: Don't touch the daughter. Don't look at her weird. Don't say anything offensive. Don't harm her or you will die. All the old standard threats. Blah, blah, blah. All after laying a book down that contained the actual binding contract. And in this world, binding literally meant binding, especially for Dregs. Things could go from bad to worse if one broke a contract forged by magic. And Ric could tell that either he, or someone he knew, cast an exceptionally powerful 'curse' on this document. His own fate would be tied to hers, literally and figuratively speaking. Daddy dearest knew how to play hardball; that was something Ricendithas could respect easily.

But even that didn't faze him, choosing only to look blankly at him once he'd finished and the daughter said her piece. "You should try it sometime. Might help take the edge off. I bet you're a regular wildebeest under that prim and proper facade of yours." was his reply. He did find it surprising that the head of such a powerful family would actually permit him 'visitors'. But then again, it was probably just his piece of cheese. Let the peasants have their scraps, as they said. Of course he would read through it...Just not in the way he might expect.

With his right arm free, a small ember appeared on each of his fingertips. "Really, Mr. Wolfswift? You're going to burn the contract in front of me?" Lorencio accused, standing up and crossing his arms. "If only...The expression on your face would be priceless, I imagine. But I suppose that fantasy will be unfulfilled. Just give me a moment to read through it." the warlock quipped, hovering his hand over the book, which began to glow an eerie blue and the embers slowly growing into a gentle flame. In a rapid flurry, threads of energy poured off the pages and into his palm, themselves flipping with staggering speed until the book itself slammed shut, Ric's hand coming to rest on his thigh as his lids closed.

Lorencio didn't quite know what to say; what had the warlock just done? He soon got his answer as Ric's eye opened once more, his voice calm, "Impressive. Contract is iron-clad." The Italian smirked, "Of course it is. I'm not letting you of all people roam about untethered. Not if even a quarter of the stories about you are true." Ric laughed, "There are exaggerations, but for the most part, that's all me. And darling, if you're ever interested in separating truth from fiction" the warlock added that last bit towards Stella, just in case she might be interested in hearing more about his tales later on. Maybe he'd write a memoir; one of the other Dregs told him there was a rising market for books published by those released from the prisons. If anything, it gave those who actually gave a damn about Dregs a better insight into how the prisons operated.

Though what came next made Lorencio quirk a brow: A demand. "Before I sign, there is something I want in return for my services." stated the warlock firmly, giving a rather cold stare to the head of House Durante.

"If it has anything to do with less restriction, you can forget it." Lorencio interrupted harshly, to which Ric replied, "No, smartass. If anything, it will allow me to fully be in service to your daughter's safety." Lorencio cocked his head in curiosity, stating "I'm listening." with a slight air of impatience. Ric held up a finger, "One. The Warden has a set of armor, something very near and dear to me. Black dragonscale. I want it back. It does belong to me, and you can ask the drunkard yourself when he returns." He then raised another finger, "Two. He also confiscated my sword, a blade of pure black ivory. More ornamental than anything else, but I want that back as well."

Lorencio raised a brow, "That's all?" Ric sat back, satisfied "That's all." Mister Durante nodded, "Very well, I will see to it that you get your things back. If it means you will use them to protect Ellastaria, then I see no problem with you having them." Now it was Ric's turn to smile, his hand grasping the fountain pen, opening the thick book to the last page and scribbling his signature on it, reading "Ricendithas Wolfswift" in perfect Cursive, the pages glowing with ancient arcane power before fading once more, the words rising from the pages and coming to entwine the princess and the warlock, their respective fates sealed within each other. With a snap of his fingers, Lorencio made the book vanish. "Alright, well that takes care of everything on our end. Now we wait for Alexei to return with the official release forms. I do hope you've been practicing...Oh, wait." Ric snickered, "You cheeky bastard. You're lucky I'm under your contract now.", unperturbed by Lorencio's jab at his imprisonment.

And at that moment, Alexei returned, a stack of papers half his height carried in his burlesque arms. "Now the fun part..." Ric groaned; and if one paid attention, one could see the crestfallen look on Mister Durante's face. "Looks like we're going to be here longer than I expected." Lorencio commented dryly, Alexei replying "You wanted him, remember? He is an S-class prisoner, not your ordinary run of the mill Dreg. Now come on, get to signing, you two. I need to these filled out in quadruplicate and have them authenticated for the Council." Alexei then looked directly at Ricendithas, "I can still never figure out what makes YOU such a damned special case." Ric beamed a little with pride, "Well...I was able to bypass the wards here a few times. Though I'm sure you know all about that, don't you?"
 
RE: Along Came Trouble [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Somewhere in Siberia
Early-mid November​


"So you're pretty much annoying for everyone, including the people who work so hard to keep the rest of us safe," Stella took another stab at Ric, still upset over him calling her a wildebeest. A wildebeest. Out of all the damn animals to compare her to, he had to choose that? He hadn't been entirely wrong though, not really. Yes, the 'prim and proper' thing was, to a certain extent, a facade that she kept up a majority of the time. But that was because she was Lorencio Durante's sole inheritor, his only child that was expected to be stunning example of everything a proper lady of the Council should be. There were, of course, others who could carry on the last name, but being the offspring of the Head of House was reason enough to maintain the front among Society.

More than that, everything from her appearance to behavior was now the subject of gossip among witches everywhere. The young woman was something of a celebrity, especially with how incredibly public her Marking was; everyone and their mothers knew who she was, which meant she couldn't afford to drop the act anytime soon. Not to say that she hadn't ever had her bit of fun here and there (it was enough to earn her some criticsm if that knowledge was released to proper Society), but she was no wildebeest. Besides, if she was a wildebeest, what did that make HIM? He was like an animal all on his own--and she had almost told him that, but then thought better of it; Ric was most likely the type to take it as a compliment rather than the appalling insult that it was.

Alexei gave her a peculiar look and a crooked smile, taking a section off the top of the stack of paperwork. "Annoying? I wouldn't say that. A pain in my ass? Sure. An arrogant bastard? Yes. But he is good at what he does... almost too good. And, if I may remind you, it's him who's going to be keeping you safe from now on."

"About her safety," Lorencio chimed in, "Ricendithas will need his belongings back before we leave tonight. The sword and his armor. I'm paying a hefty fee to have him released, and I want my money's worth."

"You'll get your money's worth even if he didn't have those things, trust me," the Russian stated firmly, although he nodded his head to agree to the request. He turned to Ric, his smile halfway transforming into a grimace. "There's a reason I keep moving you further and further down this prison. In fact, if it hadn't been for Lorencio's request, I would have transferred you to the Mariana location."

"He belongs in that hell hole," Stella muttered to herself while her father raised both eyebrows in surprise. The trench was designated for the Dregs who had no hope of ever making it out, and for many of them it was a only temporary holding cell as they awaited their execution. "Really?" the Italian regarded Ric curiously, somehow both intrigued and disgusted although his feelings leaned more toward the former. "Just what did you manage to do?"

Alexei shrugged. "Placing him there was more for the tighter security. As I'm sure you know, the Council is strict about placing Dregs with their proper level of magic suppression. The trick you saw down in the subfloors is an obvious sign that he's able to work magic even with this heavy of suppression..." The warden went on detailing Ric's prison behavior, and while it wasn't particular malicious, it was a nuisance to the guards who patrolled his particular floor.

During this time, Stella had moved from her position on the wall to the matching loveseat on the other side of the room, laying with her back down on the plush cushions and her legs dangling around and off the arm. The couch was facing the main desk at an angle, putting her closer to where the three men sat scribbling initials and signatures on various papers, passing page after page around the table then placing them in separate piles. They kept a constant pace despite the mild chatter, working like some well-oiled machine even though they had only just become allies. It was odd to see, especially since her father was the type to follow the social norms when it came to class distinction, but then again Ric was now a free man, forced (invited, really) to be a part of Society. More than that, she knew her father's trust in him stemmed from the contract they had just signed--it was literally impossible for the warlock to cause trouble, at least in the way that most Dregs did.

Ricendithas Wolfswift was now an addition to House Durante, and to some extent he was also a direct reflection of the family. He had to be on his best behavior in public at the very least, but the thought made Stella almost snicker out loud; judging from the behavior he displayed now, she had major doubts about him. Her hair cascaded over the edge of the seat as she swiveled her head to gaze in his direction, her position and way she was laying down offering an unobstructed view of the warlock. Simple curiosity filled her mind as she found herself staring at the hooded figure, wanting to know what other features were hiding within the shadows of the cloth draped over his head. It would be impossible to walk around and not draw attention to herself if she were with him. His green eye alone was enough to turn the heads of regular humans, but it would be even worse among the magical community. If it were up to her, she wouldn't even chance bringing him out in public, around people, but she knew there were physical limitations to the magical contract. Lorencio wasn't stupid; he was an intelligent individual who knew his daughter would take any opportunity to escape her newly appointed babysitter.

Distantly she wondered about the other, finer details of the contract (reading it hadn't been in her immediate interest since all of this wasn't her idea to begin with), until Alexei softly called out her name, forcing her to tear her eyes away from the Dreg. It felt strangely transgressive anyway, even though it was he who was instructed not to stare, and she wasn't exactly the type to get caught sneaking glances at a man who--most would agree--didn't deserve her attention. "Stella," Alexei called again, "Are you hanging in okay?"

"Mhmm." No.

"Tired?"

"I'm fine, thanks though." It's 1 AM in the morning.

The Russian chuckled. "So you're incredibly bored?"

"Not really." Very.

Lorencio twisted in his seat, a look of disapproval on his face as he regarded his daughter. "Princesses don't lie, Ellastaria. It's unbecoming." She only offered a half-apologetic smile and moved her head so she was facing the ceiling once again. Her father let out a sigh, "I would have sent you back already, but Mr. Wolfswift and I need to finish up. You can't go home while he's here, you know that don't you?" When Stella didn't respond, he looked back at the Warden and Ric, murmuring under his breath, "I would do this paperwork one hundred times over if it meant not having another daughter."

Alexei let out a throaty laugh, mouth split in a wide grin. "I offer you my sympathies, friend. On the bright side, this might possibly be Wolfswift's hardest mission yet, won't it? Come on, Ricendithas. Share the most difficult task you've done in your many years of living, and we'll see how it matches up to dealing with the princess attitude there."

"They're right, you know," Stella piped up after having switched positions so she was now sitting up, leaning back against one of the dense pillows. "Think about all the supernatural creatures in the world and how they'll never compare with having to deal with the me for the rest of your life. Ooo, scary, isn't it? That's what nightmares are made of." A good-natured smile turned up her lips, making it obvious that she was playing along with Alexei's teasing. At least he never seemed to mind the attitude.
 
RE: Along Came Trouble [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Gods be damned this was killing him; if there was one thing he always hated doing, it was paperwork. Even with the reduced number of missions, he felt like he spent more time writing about what he had done than actually doing the mission itself. What would all this even accomplish anyway? The contract he just signed had already tied him to Stella, this was just unnecessary. "Boy, for a society that prides itself on nature preservation, you sure don't mind killing all these trees." the warlock snickered, to which Alexei groaned, "You know as well as I do that we recycle everything, Wolfswift. Once a piece of paper's no longer needed, the ink is wiped and the paper's reused. We don't kill THAT many trees...And maybe if you behaved yourself more, there wouldn't need to be so many restrictions on you." Ric just shrugged, or at least the best shrug he could manage considering his current state. "Fair point." was his reply.

However, he soon got a welcome break when Alexei invited him to share his most difficult experience. And he couldn't help but let out a small laugh when Stella compared herself to a nightmare. This girl really had some spirit. He liked that a lot in a woman. Of course, he could tell her a really shitty story. One that pertained to him quite closely, and explained everything about his power. But no...He would save that for later. She could earn the truth herself if she so desired.

Turning to her, he replied, "Little lady, you have no clue what a nightmare really is. There are beasts out there that give even the mighty Council a reason to wet their beds...And believe me, I've faced them down." He then turned his head back to Alexei, "Even got to save ol' Alexei here once." Alexei's slight grin went away, his face starting to pale a little and Ric's grin just widening, "From a will-o'-the-wisp no less. Damn thing nearly led him off the edge of an ice pit. Let's just say it wasn't his proudest moment...Still never thanked me either. Ol' Alex is so mean to me."

Letting out a cough, "Yes, yes, fascinating story and all. But please, let's get this done. I have a long night ahead of me and I'm sure the princess would like to get home as quick as possible." Ric just shook his head, still smiling so innocently, "Eager to see me go? And here I thought we were finally becoming such excellent friends."

Nonetheless, it was back to signing; and some odd hours later, they were finally done. Each stack representing a different department, ready for delivery. Alexei muttered "Liga", thin threads of energy coming up to tie down the papers together all neatly. "Well then...I guess that's that, then." Lorencio commented dryly, falling back into his chair with an exasperated sigh. Ricendithas dropped the fountain pen, his free arm coming to rest, "That's great and all, but can we go now? I'd like some food that wasn't made by a cooking school dropout." Alexei didn't even bother replying, sitting up and adding with a weary wave of his hand, "Alright, now to the next order of business. Lorencio, if you would be so kind as to release Wolfswift from his bonds." The Italian just nodded and raised a hand, its surface glowing with magical energy, the words he spoke resonating with arcane power:

"Servitute exempti fuerant. E carcere emissum. Servire domum Durante."

And just like that, the heavy irons that bound Ricendithas to Periculosis were liberated from his cloaked form, chains clanging loudly to the floor as the warlock was allowed full freedom of movement. And the first Ricendithas did was stand up and stretch, bones popping and cracking all too audibly. "Ahhhh, that feels so much better." he groaned, rolling shoulders and neck and arms to get the kinks out; it felt so damned good to finally be free. Even if it was in protection detail to a princess, he had earned a one-way ticket out of here.

"Next order..." then said Alexei, giving a snap of his fingers; a mannequin appeared in the room, showing an impressively crafted set of dragonscale armor. The scales themselves were blacker than pitch, yet possessed a sheen that would make even the best metalsmiths blush with envy. The sword too, was attached to the groin belt in a simple belt-loop, likely made from enchanted leather to keep the blade from cutting itself free. "H..How much did this cost you?" Lorencio asked, somewhat taken aback by the rather excellent craftsmanship of the items. Ric just grinned, "A fair amount, let's just leave it at that." Ric then held his arms out, the pieces floating off the mannequin and disappearing, only to be bound atop his underclothes and hidden by the heavy cloak he wore.

"There we go. Everything's as it should be." was the warlock's comment, feeling quite excellent even with the additional weighty pieces now affixed to his body. Few, even those with as much wealth as the Council Houses, could afford dragonscale let alone enough to make a full-fledged suit of armor. Lorencio was a little in awe, if only because he'd never seen someone have such equipment; usually magic-casters never bothered with armor, since skills of their caliber made them able to deflect physical blows rather easily. So why would he encumber himself like this....

Bah, better a question left for later. Stella looked like she was about ready to fall asleep here in the office.

"Well then...Is that everything, Alexei?" Lorencio asked his old friend, the Russian nodding tiredly, "Ya, that's all. The rest is up to me...God, I'm not going to sleep well. And Wolfswift, for the love of all that is good, please don't come back. I REALLY don't feel like going through this arduous process again." Ric then grinned, "And miss the chance to get re-acquainted? Come on Alex, you and I both know that once they don't need me, they'll make up some bullshit paper-thin excuse to throw me right back in here. Out of sight, out of mind and all that good stuff. Or just have me sent to Mariana" Alexei and Lorencio both grimaced at his crass attitude, causing Ric to put his hands up, "Whoa now, let's not do something we'll regret. It's been a long day, so what say we just take some deep breaths and I take the lady home? And I promise, Mister Durante. No touching, no staring, none of that."

Lorencio seemed to relax if only a little; honestly, it worried him already that his daughter refused to stay in the family mansion. And now that this...this Dreg...would be by her side, he couldn't help but wonder about certain things. Even if the contract had protections in place, who was to say that he wouldn't find a way around it? Every word, every phrase, every last bit of legal jargon had an exploitable weakness. Even those weaknesses shielded by other phrases, especially those bound in magic, had their own flaws and Lorencio knew better than anyone that all it took was someone to find it. And the whole thing would fall apart.

But now he had no choice in the matter; at the very least, Wolfswift had one hell of a reputation. That alone would scare off the majority of would-be attackers or bounty hunters.

"Very well then...Ricendithas Wolfswift, I entrust my daughter's safety to you." said Mister Durante quite seriously, coming over to place a hand on the man's shoulder. "I mean it. Keep her safe." Ric just grinned, "Not to worry, boss-man. You can rest assured your daughter has my undying loyalty." Both of them knew that statement was full of cheek; while Ric seemed to have no qualms about playing babysitter, it was fairly obvious that he wouldn't do it if he didn't have to.

But this was his duty now. And he knew that if he was going to keep his freedom, the woman would have to make it to the throne.
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Siberia/Colorado Springs, CO
Early-mid November​


"Ti voglio bene," Lorencio told his daughter, bending to kiss her cheek. "Try not to cause too much trouble for Mr. Wolfswift, sí?"

Stella grinned in response, standing on her tip-toes so she could kiss his cheek in return. "Mhmm... I'll try, but I'm not promising anything." Not that she planned to actively be a pain Ric's ass, but she did want her father to understand that she wouldn't change her life all because someone else's was tied to it, even if it was in the literal sense. Her father may not have thought so, but she was convinced she could take care of herself. "Ti voglio anch'io. Ciao, papà," was her final goobye to him, then she watched as Lorencio wrapped a cloak around his shoulders and disappeared in a burst of white light, much like his arrival.

"How... flashy," Alexei commented, which made Stella roll her eyes.

"That pun was awful," she said, moving towards her new bodyguard and grasping one of his hands. "Hey, keep everything in your pants. I'm only showing you the way home so that next time you can do all the work... My home, not my dad's. Well, it's your home now too, I guess." It was still weird to think about--not because it was specifically him living with her, but just that someone was moving in when she had spent so much time convincing her parents to let her live alone. The family villa was nice and all, but it was boring. Suffocating, even. God only knew how dreadfully monotonous her life would have been if she stayed in Italy... Yes, she thought to herself, having Ric as a bodyguard was completely worth it if it meant not having to return to Tuscany. "Ite domum," she voiced aloud, looking back at the warlock one more time before a familiar sensation tugged at her abdomen, and after couple seconds of feeling like she was free falling, a slight breeze of cool air hit her face. Home, finally!

Stella's violet eyes opened to clear, blue skies and the sun shining down, spreading warmth depite it being the the middle of November. It was 1 or 2 in the afternoon, oddly warm (for that particular area and season anyway), making the already-thin layer of snow on the ground glisten with wetness as it slowly melted. Surrounding them were different varieties of pine, spruce, firs and junipers, filling the air with the scent of fresh evergreens. Above and to the right, a tall mountain disappeared up into a layer of clouds and fog, the rocky sides and snowy peak hidden from view. The young woman released the hand that she was holding then turned to Ric, flashing him the first genuine smile as she gestured to the house about 100 feet in front of them. It was only a two-story structure, large considering there was only one occupant, but beautiful and ostentacious in its design. It had all the charm of a mountain cabin yet also a modern architectural feel with the way the wood and stone exterior was paired with large windows.

"We're in Colorado Springs, just in case you were wondering," she told him, starting to walk forward to the front door. "It's a little small compared to the villa, but I like it." Though the actual house was great, the thing she loved best was the location. It was her little personal bubble secluded in the foothills of Pike's Peak, hidden from the eyes of regular humans through a myriad of enchantments; only those of magical blood could find her, but even then, most magicians who lived in the area favored living closer to Denver. Those who did live in Colorado Springs were mostly the younger generations and, more imprtantly, had no ties to the Council at all. It was her piece of paradise for her to enjoy.

Stella unlocked the door, stepping inside the foyer and shivering as her body made the transition from cold to warm. The interior of the building was just as impressive as the exterior, the high ceilings and open floor plan washing everything in the yellow glow of the sun. Simple, modern, mostly white decor served as a healthy contrast against the dark brown wood floors that covered the entire first level while plush, off-white carpeted stairs led to the second floor. The girl prided herself on her home seeing as she was the one who had designed it top to bottom; it was one of the only hobbies she had that didn't include magic, and it was obvious that she spend quite a deal of money, time, and effort into creating her dream home.

She yawned and blinked a few times attempting to fight the heavy urge to sleep, but kept leading Ric around the house, at one point gesturing to the stairs and saying, "The rooms are up there. You can have any which one you want, except mine. Because mine has the best view and biggest closet, and I kind of want those." They turned the corner and finally reached their destination: an elaborate kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances. The kitchen as a whole wasn't something Stella used all that often, but what she did use often was the giant refridgerator nestled in the far wall along with an equally giant freezer. She pointed to the fridge tiredly. "You said you wanted food, didn't you? Have at it."

Ric might have been a Dreg, but she wasn't an ass. In fact Stella was more compassionate than most members of Society, but considering the circumstances in which they'd been thrown together, he wasn't fully welcome as far as she was concerned. "Now if you don't mind, I'm tired as all fuck..." The profanity had slipped from her mouth in her exhaustion--proof of the facade beginning to slip away now that she had no need for it--and too tired to walk up to her room, Stella dragged herself to the connected living room and collapsed on the couch, wrapping herself in the throw blanket before faling asleep.
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

So she could use transport magic too. That was an interesting tidbit to learn. Of course, his thoughts soon went away as they landed in someplace significantly warmer, and he could actually see and feel the sun. Combined with the scent of the forest, it was almost enough to make him break out into dancing...Almost. If only he bothered to learn how. "Ah, praise the heavens." he muttered gleefully, spreading his arms wide to accept the radiant warmth of that distant glowing celestial body, almost missing her stating where they were. He heard Colorado, but didn't quite know where Colorado Springs was. All he knew was that he was in America. A place he visited so long ago; the houses here weren't nearly as grand as this, save for a select few.

However, the moment of being outside was cut short as she then proceeded to head indoors; didn't they just spend hours in a stuffy office? Bah, she was probably tired; she was practically about to fall asleep in the Warden's quarters. "Good, 'cause I'm absolutely famished." the warlock muttered, following after her. But in all honesty, this was a nice place. Then again, a small wooden cabin would have been nice compared to the tiny cell he was confined to for all those years. But there was no small cabin here. There was a simplicity, yet a strange and oddly fitting elegance to it. It was a house meant for a princess that clearly wanted to get away; her father certainly seemed the overbearing type to make that even a remote possibility.

Once inside, Ric's grin widened even more as she gave him an impromptu tour. Even if it was just the first floor, this place was loaded! Just about every creature comfort most people wanted, she had in spades. Guess being someone important enough to warrant HIM getting out would have a house like this to themselves. He also liked that it was a little more secluded; meant that he wouldn't have to worry as much about competing wards from nearby residences. Which would be his first order of business...After grabbing something to eat.

And that was when she spoke the magic words. "By all means, go sleep...Think I'll see what's in the ol' icebox." was his reply, missing her little slip of the tongue. God, he was so hungry he could eat a horse; Ric couldn't remember the last decent meal he had. Opening the fridge, he found it kind of scarce...Except for an enormous pan of lasagna that seemed to be untouched save for a few squares. "Perfect...Been a long time since I've had Italian." was the warlock's next statement as he removed it from the fridge, deciding to cook it the only way he could.

His hands slowly began to warm and glow, the surface being engulfed in smokeless flame as it started to then enshroud the pan. Slowly, the contents began to warm, the cheese glimmering a little as it started to melt and flow, then slowly forming bubbles. It wouldn't take much, since it was obviously cooked all the way through. And soon enough, the aromas of the delicious baked dish - the herbs, the fresh sauce and well-seasoned meat - wafted through the space, Ric setting the lasagna down on a resting block before grabbing a plate from the cupboard right next to the fridge. Removing a rather large square, he then promptly began to devour it, the explosion of flavors hitting his taste buds like an avalanche.

"Oh damn, so freaking good" he managed to say in between mouthfuls. Before long though, his plate was cleaned off, his free eye gazing back to the still hot entree. "Well...She did say have at it." Ric mused, grinning all the while as he took yet another piece; half an hour later, there was maybe one or two servings left from what should have feed someone for a week.

"Ahhhh" he breathed out, a gloved hand on his stomach as he rested with his back against the kitchen island; it was the first in a long while he actually felt full. Taking a swig from a bottle of lambrusco he also managed to find, he turned it over to find it empty. "Heh, guess I still can't get drunk. Hell of a lot better than that Irish swill Albus snuck me in prison, though." he joked to himself, placing the empty bottle on the counter. Still...Probably better get this back in the fridge. But no need for the space of the pan; a flick of his hand made the last of the lasagna transfer itself to a smaller plate, giving her more fridge space, and cellophane soon covering it to keep it fresher. Then into the frigid space it went, the door closing behind it.

But now what to do, aside from the aforementioned warding improvements. After that meal though, he suddenly didn't feel up to it. As it was, her house was decently-guarded...But there were improvements that could be made. Even a cursory glance revealed that someone (maybe even Stella herself) took some shortcuts in drafting protections for her house. It wasn't that they were complete garbage or anything, just needed some updating (in his eyes at least).

So instead, he laid his head on the counter and just closed his eyes. Just a few moments, he told himself. Unaware of the fact that the empty wine bottle was still in his hand, and not a glass to be seen in sight. And that particular lambrusco, little did he know, wasn't just any wine...
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Colorado Springs, CO
Early-mid November​


A soft groan could be heard from the living room as Stella rolled over on the couch, stretching her limbs and blinking sleepily a few times. It was nearly dark outside already; the sun had disappeared behind the mountain, leaving only hues of indigo along with a spattering of the first stars across the night sky. God, what time was it? 5? Maybe 6? A dry cough coursed through her chest, forcing her to sit up. She hated sleeping or napping in the middle of the day precisely because when she woke, everything felt dry as a desert. Dehydrated, with a massive headache... just overall really shitty. "Ric?" she called out half-heartedly, more out of curiosity than to actually see if he would come. She wondered if having him as a bodyguard meant that she could have him at her beck and call. Could she order him to grab her some water and ibuprofen?

When he didn't answer, she sighed and swung both legs over the edge of the cushions, somehow managing to find the energy to pick up her feet and carry herself to the kitchen. A yawn hit her and she rolled her neck twice, wincing as she did so; the muscles there felt stiff, yet another consequence of having slept on the sofa. Small spaces didn't agree with her body--even though she herself was small--as far as sleeping areas went, no matter how plush and soft the cushions were. It didn't help that she was the type to frequently change positions while sleeping, and she knew she was that kind of person: the one who went to bed laying down on her back and woke up with the sheets in disarray while she had magically moved to some spread eagle position turned 90 degrees to the right. But whatever. It was Ric's fault that her sleeping schedule was all kind of messed up. Why couldn't he have been placed in one of the North American prisons? He couldn't have been that special... that's what she told herself, at least.

The young woman entered the kitchen and turned the lights on, her eyes immediately settling on the slumped figure resting on the granite-top island. For a moment Stella just stared blankly at Ric's resting form, unable to think of a reason why he had to crash in the middle of the kitchen. She distinctly remembered telling him he had a room, which was actually upstairs and not in the kitchen. Couldn't he follow a simple direc... Oh. The accusatory thoughts trailed off as she followed the line of his arm, which ended at a hand still gripped on whatever bottle he decided to intoxicate himself with. Idiot, she thought to herself as she walked forward, her annoyance spiking up even higher when she saw exactly what bottle it was that he had decided to polish off.

What to do, what to do...? Ah, yes, she knew.

Grabbing the neck of the empty Lambrusco, she forcefully knocked it out of Ric's hand, causing it to fall near his head and clatter loudly against the light-colored stone. Simultaneously, she muttered, "Lumino," and her right hand lit up a bright, off-white champagne color, which she prompty turned toward the warlock's face. "Oh god," she exaclaimed a little louder than what was appropriate after she could see Ric starting to stir. "Sleeping on the job already? Wait, no, not sleeping. Voluntarily inebriation despite agreeing to protect me. The princess. I could have died or something, Ric. I can practically feel the undying loyalty coming off in waves." The last sentence was saturated with so much sarcasm that it was impossible to miss, but Stella paused for a couple seconds just to make sure he heard her next statement: "I don't think daddy Durante would be too happy about this, would he?" she hissed, displaying a surprising amount of sass for such a small body.

She wouldn't actually have called her father for such a ridiculous reason. In fact, she really couldn't have cared less if Ric wanted to get so drunk that he was reduced to crawling and moaning all over the floor. Who didn't want to get hammered from time to time? What she did have a problem with was that he drank her bottle of Lambrusco. Her specially ordered, magic-imbued, very expensive Lambrusco. It wasn't so expensive that it broke her bank to lose it (rarely anything was too expensive for Council families anway), but she had waited a long time to have that particular bottle of wine. It came from a specialty vineyard in Emilia-Romagna, a region close to her native Tuscany, where each step in the wine-mkaing process was gradually imbued with magic so as to create the smoothest, yet strongest, variety of Lambrusco known to anyone. Even the grapes were grown with a hint of magic to ensure the perfection of the flavor: the earthy, fresh tone with a subtle dash of sweetness. She had waited a year to get that bottle. One whole year, and now it was gone without a drop of it touching her lips.

"I needed that Lambrusco," Stella said coldly when she stepped back and turned off the light on her hand. "Not that you woud know anything about quality entertaining, but that was meant for a really important dinner party in the coming weeks. But obviously whatever you needed it for was way more important than what I needed it for." Her stomach grumbled audibly, and she rounded the island to get the fridge; it was only then that she noticed the hunger and thirst clawing at her. Opening the door, her eyes fell on the large, wrapped rectangle of cheesy baked pasta, and the pan she had baked it in nowhere in sight. After reaching for the small plate and slowly turning around, she shut the fridge door and set the plate on the island beside Ric.

Stella brought her hands together and to her lips, inhaling deeply as she brought her eyes to the ceiling, trying to suppress the growing urge to strike him with magic. Then when they settled on the warlock once more, she used her clasped hands to gesture to the remaining square. "I guess we're going out for dinner tonight. What happened to my lasagna?" she asked. Honestly she didn't know why she even asked the question at this point; if he could finish an entire bottle of wine, obviously he could finish an entire pan of lasagna. 'Have at it' certainly meant that she invited him to eat, but she hadn't expected him to raid her kitchen. That was just... common manners, wasn't it?
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Ric gave a small start as she knocked the bottle out of his hand, the sharp bang resonating in his eardrums. Shit, whatever was in that wine knocked him out cold; he wasn't the type to fall asleep drunk that easily. She wouldn't know this, but there were few that could out-drink him, his history saw to that. But clearly this was no ordinary wine; he should have figured that much from the overly smooth taste of it and utterly perfect blend of flavors. He then winced as her lighted palm shone brightly in his eye, muttering a nearly-inaudible profanity as he was forced awake.

Really, he should have figured that she would find some way to get pissed at him, even if it was just food. And besides, despite some flaws, these were some damn good wards around the house. Although, he really should be more vigilant in his duty; though one could argue it was hard to care about someone who didn't give two flying figs about you. He knew, she knew it: They were an inconvenience to each other. She, a high-and-mighty princess of perfect royal lineage. And he a lowly Dreg, who should have spent his endless days rotting in prison, released and assigned to make sure she stayed alive and well until she might marry the man of her dreams and ascend to the throne.

Ironically, it was that fact of mutual assured avoidance that made it blindingly apparent she wouldn't call her daddy on him. True, he could just save himself the trouble and off her...Though it meant offing himself too through their contract, and he wasn't fond of dying. Not yet, and certainly not like that. He could also take her hostage, use her as a meat shield...Endless possibilities really. But he wasn't familiar enough with light-based magic to fully understand its capabilities, and it would be a lot of work to subdue someone with any degree of arcane competence. More than he was willing to put in to have the end result be every House hunting him down again. Not worth it.

Giving a weak smile, he just sat up and stretched his back, letting out a muted yawn before stating "Yeah, was never much of a socialite, even before Periculosis. Prison didn't exactly teach us how to act like fancy folks, you know. Spent nearly every hour locked in chains and wards; only way to keep sane was to have my own version of fun. Probably why Alexei was such a scrooge all the time, but if he'd just gotten me a downy pillow like I asked, I would have been much more cooperative." Sitting up a little straighter, he then added "And as for you dying, I'm sure you don't have a thing to worry about. Daddy's probably got someone outside this house right now, every minute of every day. Or maybe he doesn't, because he - unlike you - has faith in my capability. Besides, the warding here is just fine."

Ric then turned to face her as she asked about the lasagna, an innocent smile turning up the corner of his lips, "Oooh, going out are we? I don't know about you, but I'm hankering for some Tuscan...Oh, sorry." He knew he was being cheeky, but honestly, if this girl thought she was going to boss him around just because he was contractually tied to her safety, then she better take a hard look at the situation. Of course, the same could be said for him. The contract was in fact very clear on the consequences of slacking, and even more so for failure. And it was this thought that did seem to slam some sense into him, but how much would be a matter of perspective.

Giving a slight cough, he decided to focus on an issue he just mentioned: Protection. "But...If we can get serious for a moment. The wards around this house are good. That being said, there are more than a few holes. Ones that an experienced mage - like myself - can easily exploit, and then you're well and truly fucked. Luckily..." He paused to give himself a few taps on the skull, "You just happen to have someone that can seal those weak points. This head of mine has more than just dirty thoughts of you, young lady. It's got some serious secrets, a practical treasure trove of delicious tidbits...And if you play nice, I might just choose to share them with you." She might think she was hot stuff now, but as skilled as she was, it was obvious she needed more...skillful...guidance. Light magic, referred to some as the 'luminous art', wasn't a common gift after all. And though he had some experience with it, this girl's whole aura revolved around it. If she could truly harness her magic, she might even be able to match him...Or at the very least get closer than anyone before ever had.

And if the legends he heard had even a hint of truth, this woman could be a very valuable tool for anyone else who knew of its potential. Giving a tilt of his head, he then asked, "So...Lady Durante, what say you? Give this house a warding touch-up, then grab some Chinese? I've got a craving for hot and sour soup...Oh, and egg rolls. Love me some egg rolls."
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Colorado Springs, CO
Early-mid November​


Stella's brows furrowed slightly as she looked at the warlock, clearly not amused by his words. "Well god, as flattering as that is, I'd hope you have more than dirty thoughts of me inside your head. But if you could kindly remove them, that'd be pretty great."

He wasn't getting paid to sit on his ass and--the thought made her internally gag--daydream about doing the naughty. Especially with her. Like she would ever entertain that notion anyway; physical relationships between members of proper Society were already looked at with judgement, but a relationship of any kind with a Dreg? It was totally unheard of, even if he or she was freed and working for a prominent family. In fact if it were a prominent family, the transgression would seem so much worse precisely because of the ultimate difference in status. Stella and Ric were miles--no, a universe--apart in that regard. The guy had to watch his mouth if he hoped to live more two weeks. Besides, didn't he have permission to have, and act out, dirty thoughts with other women? All he had to do was go out and find them hoes... it honestly couldn't be that hard for him. Or maybe it was hard for him. Poor thing.

"And it's Stella," the girl said then, walking around the island to stand in front of Ric. Lady Durante? Who even was that? Not her, that was for sure. "'Lady' Durante is my mom. It's bad enough that they named me 'Ellastaria.' I mean really, it's almost as bad as 'Ricendithas'... No offense," she tacked on after a slight pause, the half-joke making her eyes sparkle lightly with amusement.

Her name, one that had been passed down in the family forever, wasn't exactly something she loved. The last person to have it was her great-great-grandmother, and for some reason her parents thought it was a fantastic idea to give her that outdated, archaic name. 'Ricendithas' actually wasn't all that bad; it was fitting for the warlock, and it made Stella wonder how old he really was. He was definitely old enough to call her 'Lady' like it was totally normal.

A frown turned down her mouth as she thought about the wards, knowing he was right but refusing to admit her inability to him. The standard enchantments were things she could easily do; the general space-warping hid the house from view to regular humans, and she had even managed to hide most of the arcane print that the warding left on the land. Ric was right--mages of his caliber would easily sense the miniscule traces of magic, but what kind of powerful mage, Dreg or not, would be in the middle of Colorado? Most warlocks and witches didn't like being in the Americas anyway, and there were only two Houses that originated from the two ccontinents west of the Atlantic. And considering almost nobody aside from the Council knew where Stella lived, she couldn't have been in any kind of immediate danger... Could she?

But there was one thing she needed, something that she could never figure out how to do. Not that she would ever admit it to Ric. As it was, anyone who knew transport magic could bypass all of her wards and come right up to the front door. Of course, that only worked if whoever wanted to get inside knew where she lived, and most of the time that involved knowing exact cooridantes or having been there before. Both options were unlikely, but she had never quite managed to put up restrictions so that only she was able to transport within the wards. In the end she had left it open, but that wasn't the greatest idea now. She was sure Ric would have quite a few, er, visitors from time to time, and there was no way she was going to allow them to keep coming back. Ugh, keep coming back? For Ric? It was nauseating just to think about it.

"You know what? Sure, we can work on the wards around here. I was feeling lazy when I put them up, so I guess it's only right that you finish the work. And if you do a good job, we'll see about getting you that Chinese food." The sass was back even stronger than before, and she directed a close-to-lethal smirk at her bodyguard. It was a wonder that someone with such warm features could look so cold.

And with that, she turned on her heel to walk to the front door, flipping lights on as she went along the way. After pausing to pull on some knee-high boots, she opened the door and called behind her, "Let's see it then. Those delicious tidbits you keep bragging about." Now was a good time to extend the radius of her wards; she kept meaning to do so, but either things kept coming up or she just wasn't feeling up to it. Well, at least Ric was good for something.
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Ric snickered at her reaction; it would be readily apparent that his words got to her, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. "Hey now, words can hurt you know. Besides, it wasn't anything too graphic...If you like, I can show you the thoughts myself." he joked right back, amused by her attempts to verbally abuse him. Her heart wasn't in it, at least not yet. Besides, he was just enjoying his freedom. Oh, poor baby, she had to have people actually give a damn about her. He had that too at one point...But then the world decided to give him the middle finger, despite his best efforts to protect both the magic users and the 'normals'.

And while it was true that not many mages lived in the Americas - the people here were far worse towards the arcane in the last hundred years than Europe had ever been in its history - the truth was Dregs often thrived here, and not even the Council could know where all of them were at one time. And he only knew this - though Stella wouldn't even have a clue - because many of his assignments had in fact been in this continent. Here, he had reduced thousands of monstrosities and 'enemies of the government' to ash...And if she were to ever take him into town, she might see just how far his reputation preceded him.

Those facets aside, he just looked at her blandly as she teased him about the delicious tidbits. "And you won't even buy me dinner first...What a rude hostess I have." he joked, grinning right afterwards; honestly, it would be good practice for him, having been locked up for so long. And she might just appreciate how extensive he planned to make his wards. If she thought she was invisible before, by the time he was through he would make sure not even her father would be able to find her.

Of course, he planned to have a special exit for himself and by extension Stella should things go sideways. But she wouldn't know that, or at the very least it would be hard to distinguish it from anything else in the household.

But as she stood to leave, he just crossed his arms and sat back against the island fully, "Well, hopefully you weren't planning on doing the outside first, because that's a surefire sign of an amateur basically giving someone a free pass to come right in." Shaking his head, he then added, "Building wards is just like building a house. They need a solid foundation. If the base of your warding is no good, then your protection will crumble. And trust me, the warding in these walls need work too. So that's what we're going to be doing first: Reinforce the foundation."

Motioning his hand away from himself, she would find the door slammed shut behind her. "Now then, we go to the cellar. Unless you don't feel like seeing my delicious tidbits anymore, I suggest you follow." was his next statement, his body starting to sink below into the floor before disappearing completely.

Down below, he now stood in the middle of a small white-blue fire, which slowly faded to reveal his handiwork: A six-pointed star surrounded by a hexagram circumscribed by two concentric circles, the space between them filled with unusual symbology. They were more ancient signs and markings, ones that many would consider 'dead'. However, there was much power in them if wielded properly, more so than the shortcuts that seemed to plague the current generation of mages. His visible eye, as well as the one hidden by the eyepatch he wore, glowed with an ethereal fiery energy along with the rest of his body.

He then began to chant, his voice changing a little as he held his arms outstretched, possessing a more ancient booming quality:

"Salamandra dabo a mihi ante oculos tuos. Lux excelsam radiantis flammae in, revelabit infirmitate et exponere vitia aut exuritur igni. Demonstrare vanitate tutela. Fundamentum et revelabo illis erroribus videant faciem vere provenisse monstratur."

As he finished this little incantation, the radiance of his form seemed to intensify before rapidly expanding outward in a flash of blue fire. When the light settled, the house seemed to become semi-transparent, allowing Stella and Ric to see everything. Fire danced in various areas around the entire structure, detailing where the weakest points of magical barriers were. And she would see there were more than a few. Not a lot, but likely more than she would have suspected. Some were relatively minor, others not so much. But there was one room that was exceptionally well-warded: He could only presume it was her bedchamber.

"As you can see, we have our work cut out for us...Or rather, I do, as you so eloquently put it. All these spots of flame you see are where mages are able to open the wards just enough to slip through. But it just so happens that I can make this house nearly impregnable...With the exception of you inviting someone you didn't want in, of course." he then added as a little jab towards her, the entire message being played through her mind. He didn't know what kind of woman she was exactly, but he had a feeling that she thought herself an excellent judge of character and didn't need any protection from anybody.

"That being said, I do need you step in this circle I made." Ric continued, looking downward to the protective ward he drafted into the stone foundation. "It will key your resonance to the protections of this house and activate them fully while you are within its boundaries. You might feel a little tired afterward, since you're literally putting your 'essentia vitae' into the magic of this home, but it's one of the strongest and ironically least-known forms of magic there is. It will also allow you to build stronger wards atop and around them."

He then held out his gloved hands towards her as if gesturing a sign of good faith, "Just take my hands and repeat these words. And you have to mean it too, otherwise it won't be nearly as effective." He then gave her a small smirk, "If it helps, just think of it as a means to keep any visitors I might want out of here. Since I'm sure you'll take even the slightest joy in cock-blocking me over and over again."

Waiting for her to step in, he simply continued, "You must repeat these words aloud, but you will hear them within the bounds of your mind."

His voice then played in her word, the words carrying a rather heavy weight for belonging to what the normals considered a dead language.


Obice antiquis, magicae tabellarius. Sit defluere vitae essentia.
Dispergimini vitae mea essentia .
Immittere magicae intra tot veterrimos tomes.
Sprevisti omnes preter me confido quam proxime .
Hoc est praeceptum meum .
Reice occasionem eorum, qui volunt mihi mala!
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Colorado Springs, CO
Early-mid November​


He said 'amateur' and Stella stopped in her tracks, turning slowly and walking back to pop her head in the kitchen, only to see Ric with his back against the island and him shaking his head at her like she was stupid. No, he didn't mean it like that and she knew it; he was simply someone with more knowledge in the arcane, but no one had ever told her she was wrong before.

She was in fact going to start with the outside, more or less because that's how she was taught along with half the magical population that ever bothered to learn how to ward. The logic was to make the first line of defense the strongest, which for her were the wards that extended beyond the house and out into the forest. The young woman opened her mouth to object going down in the cellar, but paused and thought better of it, realizing that what Ric said made sense. The more she considered his words, the more apparent it became that by neglecting to fix the foundation, the house could easily be her own self-inflicted death trap if anyone, or anything, happened to slip through the outer shell of protection.

"Fine. The cellar it is, but I don't want to be seeing any of your tidbits," Stella conceded as she watched him sink through the floor, walking then to a door that opened to stairs leading down to the basement of her home.

She could have pulled something similar and sunk through the floor, but she wasn't nearly as flashy with her magic as people liked to believe. Ric wasn't as bad as her dad, but he was definitely on his way to catching up if he kept this up. "So there's this really cool thing called stairs," she said pointedly--though with a mild tone--to the figure surrounded by fire, the bluish tongues of flame flickering and lapping around his legs before fading away. A tiny smile tugged at her lips, and she stepped closer to the structure etched onto the stone. "Just thought you should know, that way you can, y'know, use them next time. I mean, who knows where you'll be floating off to next?" Upstairs, downstairs... His room... Her room. Oh god. Stella could only hope he had enough tact not to appear and disappear at random times in random places.

The markings lit softly with the same blue-white glow that seemed to radiate off Ric's body as he chanted, giving Stella time to inspect the glyphs that filled the space between the two circles. She looked up at him in surprise; the symbols were old, so old that she couldn't recall ever seeing them in any of the books that lined the library walls of the Durante estate. Symbology itself was considered a dead art in the modern magical community because it took so much knowledge of glyphs that all too often faded into obscurity as time went on. It was like a language all on its own, one that many people refused to learn. 'Normals' who wanted to start learning the arcane arts already balked at the thought of having to understand Latin, and even only a handful of those of magical blood fully grasped the language to which their power was tied. Stella was proficient, but it was impossible to master it at the age she was at. Why would anybody, regardless of whether they were of normal or magical lineage, want to add the complications of writing symbols on top of everything else?

Nevertheless, his actions were definitely solid despite the old magic. Impressive even, she thought to herself as she looked around at the translucent building, cringing slightly as she caught sight of the handful of bras she had thrown on the floor of her room. They were the result of a frustrating early morning after her father called for an impromptu trip to Russia, somehow convinced that she needed to come along even though the whole thing had been his idea.

But what made her cringe even more was hearing Ric explain what the fire meant; had there really been this many cracks in her design? The flames appeared in various parts of the house, mainly in corners and windows, but she was still surprised to see the fire settling in places that she thought were well warded: the fireplace, the skylight in one of the guest rooms upstairs, and the attic above the garage. There was one place void of any fire in or around it, and that was her room. At least she could take pride in that despite the visible pile of lacey undergarments.

The young woman fit her hands into his gloved own after he said his piece, stepping within the circle to join him, and letting out a genuine laugh at his joke even though she couldn't exactly disagree with the statement. "I don't want random sketch-ass women in my house," she said, grinning back at him. "Not that I don't think you have good taste, but it's that you might not have any taste at all considering you came from Periculosis. How do you guys even... Actually, I don't want to know. But the cock-blocking thing probably isn't to you, is it?"

She relaxed her grip as she shifted her weight from one hip to another, somewhat grateful that Ric wasn't ridiculously tall to the point where she found it uncomfortable to do something as simple as join hands to perform a spell together. Most of the Durantes, her family on her father's side and the ones who had handled most of her magical instruction, were tall in spite of the Italian stereotype, with many of the males reaching at least 5'10", and the females reaching 5'6". Then there was Stella and her diminutive stature, no doubt a result from her mixed heritage. But even then, her mother wasn't that short of a woman, and Stella could only wonder where her 5'1" height came from.

"Obice antiquis, magicae tabellarius. Sit defluere vitae essentia. Dispergimini vitae mea essentia," she began reciting the first few lines, willing to work together with Ric even though she knew she told him that he would be doing all the work. Plenty of the things that came out of her mouth never mattered anyway; she was full of shit half the time, and besides, she did actually care for the warding around her home.

"Immittere magicae intra tot veterrimos tomes. Sprevisti omnes preter me confido quam proxime." The blue hue of the warlock's magic shone more intensely through the ancient writing within the circle, bathing both participants in the warm lighting. As she repeated the words, Stella's own magic made itself evident within the circle as well, manifesting as a curious cream-yellow that danced and flickered along with the blue.

"Hoc est praeceptum meum. Reice occasionem eorum, qui volunt mihi mala!" she finally ended the spell, looking up at Ric's face and into the vivid green eye that still glowed with power and depth upon finishing the recitation. The glow faded from the circle, and she let go of his hands as she felt a sudden decrease in energy, leaving her more physically and mentally fatigued than she was before. But letting go proved to be unwise when she swayed on the spot---perhaps doing this on an empty stomach after lack of sleep wasn't the greatest of ideas...? One of her hands reached up to grasp Ric's wrist to stabilize herself, and she gave a tired sigh after releasing him.

"Shit, you weren't kidding. Damn, haha." For some reason the moment was deserving of not one, but two expletives, although that was likely due to the fact that she was exhausted and hungry. It was a combination that could probably turn anyone from saint to a monster, really. "Okay, so... What's next? Let's hurry this thing up." Stella moved her hands in a continuing circular motion while she yawned, then looking around to inspect the house around them. Two of the fires had gone out just by the simple act of tying their magic to the house, and most of the remaining fires had reduced in size. She made a mental note to ask exactly how to create this kind of particular warding magic, but right now she wanted to get done and eat something. Ric wasn't the only one who liked egg rolls.
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Ricendithas stood there with her, hands held open as she rested her daintier ones in his own. He could feel her aura, a little smirk creeping onto his lips; she was certainly powerful alright. Much of it seemed to originate from that mark upon her wrist; previous meetings with her father informed him of what it was, but it honestly was not something he had any background knowledge about. The Mark of Aricia, a symbol of who would become ruler of this world. The only other thing he knew about it was that it only appeared when the current 'King' or 'Queen' was about to reach their natural end. Other than that, it seemed like a tattoo any mortal could get at a parlor.

Still, all that aside, Stella had potential. However, she would find that his way of doing magic was more...archaic...than the common sources spouted today. Sure, they were simpler and often bode less stress upon the user. By the same token this implied a level of complacency with magic, and Ric knew from his experience that magic was never to be taken lightly. A fact that spelled the end for more than a few 'normals' attempting to utilize it.

All of this played through his mind as Stella recited the words, her power surging forth through him; seemingly on instinct, his own magic exploded in light, boosting her own arcane energy through the wards of the house and making quite an impressive amount of progress in patching the cracks. Soon enough, the resonance faded, leaving the cellar dark and foreboding once more. And the warlock couldn't help but chuckle as she steadied herself and showed just how much of a 'proper lady' she was. This girl was starting to shatter his expectations a little. Not much, but a little.

"You kiss your daddy with that mouth, little lady?" he joked after she asked him about the next steps.; given who HE was, he had no room to talk. But he knew it, and it was her that needed to show proper restraint after all. Snickering as she tried to usher it along, he replied quite honestly "Trust me when I say I was doing you a massive favor; you would be near dead on the floor if you attempted this with that kind of output by yourself. When I said 'Say it like you mean it', you really took it to heart. I'm impressed." And honestly, he was. She still had a LONG ways to go to get to his level, but he had no problem showing her the ropes if she was willing to learn. Of course, he planned on keeping some things to himself. A magician never reveals all their secrets...And this warding ritual was child's play compared to what he could really do.

"In any event, I think it unwise we continue. Besides, we've built a more than solid base to work on the rest of the house." Ric stated next, giving her a gentle poke on the forehead and adding, "I'm supposed to be protecting you after all, you ninny." Letting his own energy die down, the warlock grinned and grasped her hand a little more tightly, "I say, we call it here and gorge on chow mein and kung pao chicken. " And in a flash, they were both whizzing through the ether, traveling to some unknown destination in Colorado. It was a shot in the dark, and honestly it was probably something he shouldn't have done without some warning. But he knew where he was going.

Sort of...The slight probe of her mind revealed one of the Chinese restaurants she went to in this town of hers. But it didn't say exactly where. Oh well, what was life without a little risk?

They both soon appeared right in front of Jasmine Cafe, surprisingly intact. "To be honest, I'm not all that familiar with this place. They had some places like this in Europe, but I've never heard of the 'Jasmine Cafe'. Is it any good?" he then asked her rather nonchalantly, his green eye looking to her with a hint of glee and what could only be construed as a 'grinning look', fully expecting her to chew him out for using teleportation magic like that. It wasn't like he knew his way around the American continent, or so he claimed, so he was fully expecting a reprimand from her even if she might have been in no danger to begin with.
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Colorado Springs, CO
Early-mid November​


"Are you out of your mind?!" Stella hissed at him, breath forming little puffs of condensation in the air as she struggled to hold back more choice words. She would have said them too if it hadn't been for the cold that immediately bit into her skin, making her clench her teeth and tighten her grip on his hand. The teleportation magic had caught her off guard; the whole ordeal hadn't even lasted a full second because the destination was so close, but it still wasn't an enjoyable feeling considering she hadn't known it was coming. She turned her body to look up at him, her deep violet irises glinting almost black in the darkness of the night, and her lips pursed in an obvious expression of annoyance. "For someone who claims to be so skilled in magic, you're not too bright, are you? Some protection you are."

Ric's question about Jasmine Cafe went unanswered—in fact it was completely ignored—as she took the time to inspect both herself and her surroundings. "Someone could have seen us," she snapped at him, eyes flicking over to a spot in the parking lot where a family had just stepped out of an SUV to walk to the Subway across the little shopping area.

She never liked risking being caught using obvious forms of magic. Normals might have known all about the magical society, various governments even working with the Council of Ten, but that didn't mean they were all accustomed to seeing magic on a daily basis. Especially in the Americas, where many people lived in such ignorant bliss about the magical communities in Europe and Asia. It was her experience that most normals liked living in that ignorance, but it wasn't like she cared. After all it was her goal to not draw attention to herself, which was the entire reason she had moved so far away. Besides, she liked taking the time to drive places and do other things that also seemed totally mundane to most of Society.

But more than that, it was his blatant disregard to her safety that annoyed her the most. Honestly it wasn't all that surprising that she survived his little stunt and came out of the ether in one piece, but surely even he knew the safe practices of teleportation? Maybe he did, maybe he didn't, but she was willing to bet that he did. Maybe he just liked living life on the wild side, but Stella didn't like taking chances. The rules of magic were no joke, and everyone knew the horror stories of teleportation that had gone wrong. Those who didn't know what they were doing or where they were going either didn't come out whole, or they were forced to wander forever lost within the ether. And neither of those options seemed too appealing to her.

"You're either trying to kill me or you're trying to piss me off, both of which are fucking stupid. The next time you want to go somewhere, you can ask me where it is. I'd rather show you than risk doing this again. No more hand-holding privileges for you," Stella said, although she pulled him along to the entrance of the Chinese restaurant much like how a mother would treat a disobedient child. "And just so you know, I've kissed quite a few people with this mouth, and they happened to like it. Love it, actually."

The last statement wasn't quite something that was particularly insulting to him (in fact it was arguable that it was more embarrassing for her), but she didn't care. It was just another thing to snap about, and it was the first thing that came to mind that she could throw in his face. Who cared what came out of her mouth anyway? He certainly shouldn't have. She was willing to bet her entire life that his mouth was much dirtier than hers, but she didn't dwell too much on the thought as they walked through the doors of Jasmine Cafe, and her stomach growled audibly at the scent of Asian cuisine that wafted throughout the restaurant.

"How many?" asked one of the Chinese women at the counter, her voice thick with a Mandarin accent. Stella knew she was in her mid-40s, but the woman honestly looked no older than 30; the only indication of age was the slight crinkling at the corner of her eyes as she smiled, tentatively grabbing two menus from a tall stack beside her.

"Hi, Jiao," Stella smiled politely back at her, demeanor completely changed from irritation to serenity. "Two, please. I've got a... friend with me today." The woman, Jiao, nodded and walked around the counter with the menus under one arm, her brown eyes glancing down at the pair's connected hands with far too much curiosity before starting to lead the way to one of the booths in the back.

Stella immediately dropped Ric's hand from hers as she followed, frowning slightly. She was a regular at the Jasmine Cafe, having spent way too much time on some occasions just talking and drinking with the owners and wait staff well past closing hours. Having and keeping friends wasn't exactly her thing, but she did have a few close acquaintances at this place. They knew quite a bit about her, including the bit about her being of magical blood (although not of her royal status), but they had always been accepting of that. In fact Stella was almost sure it was because magic ran in their family too albeit in small amounts. Jiao treated her like family, and it was precisely this reason that made her let go of Ric's hand; how many times had she been asked if she had a boyfriend? And now after tonight, she didn't doubt everyone who worked there would think she was in deep with some green-eyed stranger. Great.

"Frank is coming, okay?" Jiao said as she set the menus down, referring to her son that often worked at the restaurant on the weekends when he wasn't busy in school.

Stella nodded, slid within the puffy red seat and murmured her thanks, waiting for the lady to leave before flipping the menu open. "So you're totally aware that I have no wallet, no ID, and no money to pay for any of this, right? Looks like I'm still not treating you out to dinner." She glanced up at Ric from underneath her lashes, one eyebrow raised while she flipped one page over. It was a total lie—she always kept emergency cash tucked underneath her bra strap, but he didn't need to know that.
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

God, the pissed off look on her face was priceless; she really needed to loosen up around him. He'd lived a fine life of spontaneity before being chained to her, it was what made his existence...well, not dull. It kept things interesting. And besides, all his life he was treated like a rebel. Treated like an outcast, like a sideshow. Why shouldn't he act the part? Because some asshole Americans were afraid of magic? If he really wanted, he could show them what kind of magic to REALLY be afraid of. If they thought the Council of Ten was powerful, they'd crap their pants if he was ever let free again. Truly free.

Nonetheless, he let her go on her little tantrum spree; it wasn't like anything he said would change her mind of him anyway, and he didn't really feel like explaining himself to her. Nowhere in the contract did it say he ever had to justify his actions (unless it would deliberately put her in harm's way), and if she honestly thought he would mess up a simple teleportation, then he had no business being a warlock. These 'normals' were the reason he ended up in that isolation chamber; apparently trying to save them from the beasts that saw them only as food wasn't good enough anymore. Lock up the heroes, and let the fat pigs in the pretty houses boss them around. Great way to run a society.

He supposed he should tone it down; after all, he was trying to keep her secure until she was able to take the throne for herself. The intoxication of finally being able to roam free (relatively speaking of course) was addicting, but a day or two and he would be over it, and likely starting feeling mad at being literally bound to this girl that seemed to just want him gone. But then...That would be half the fun. Daddy wanted him around, even if begrudgingly, and the princess wished he would just vanish. It was like he'd found the perfect person to be stuck to. Someone that could actually stand up to him and tell it how it is, and him just not giving a fuck.

"And where would the fun in that be? Teleportation's not nearly as dangerous if you know what you're doing." he replied calmly, only to be led inside by the hand. Well, at least he would get to eat. He could smell the oil, hear the sizzling of the pans and woks, practically tasted the szechuan beef on his tongue. Even after devouring a whole lasagna, Stella would find him with a healthy appetite.

And the warlock certainly didn't miss the hostess looking at them, or rather what Stella was doing. Evidenced even more so when the princess promptly released his hand. "Guess she didn't want people getting the wrong idea." the warlock mused within his head, still feeling a slight pressure on his knuckles from her deathgrip outside.

Maybe he shouldn't have surprised like that, but she would get over it. They'd have a nice dinner and go home to repel each other all the more. The princess might think him stupid, but he didn't make it this far by not being observant. Observant and somewhat of a general dick. His green hue reflecting a soul full of humor, he soon sidled in across from Stella, opening up his own menu...Only to look up when she commented about her lack of currency and identification. The money problem was something he could deal with, and the lack of ID was a moot issue.

Giving a fake but rather convincing sounding sneeze, he just replied, "Sorry, I have a slight bullshit allergy." Having decided on what he would be ordering, he placed down his menu and added, "For the sake of fun though, let's go ahead and assume you're not full of it." He then paused and leaned back in the comfortable chair, "Clearly you've never heard of the dine and dash. Believe me when I say having our 'talents' makes it so much easier to do that...But honestly, it's your call." Giving her a challenging look, he just grinned even wider, "I can eat like a hog and just 'poof' without a care in the world. But I have a feeling someone like you wouldn't want to emulate a Dreg like me, am I right?"

He then did something rather childish, but it clearly wouldn't faze him: He wagged a finger in her face, keeping his voice low as he said "And besides, you promised. What would people think if Ellastaria Durante never upheld her word?"

Before either of them could say another word, a young Asian man - couldn't be more than twenty years of age - walked up to their table, dressed in the 'traditional' white shirt and black pants of the waiter at a restaurant. This was Frank, son of Jiao. Looking to Stella, he then said a little more loudly but not obnoxiously so, "What's good here, darling? You seem to be a regular. Mind giving a hungry man some insight into what the choice plates are?"

The young man gave a slight bow, "Hello, Stella. I see you brought a friend...And as to your question, sir, I highly recommend the sweet and sour chicken and the fried rice." Ric shot the young man a smile, "Well now, that sounds just dandy. I think I know what I'm getting. Might think about some potstickers too; haven't had those in a long time." Stella might it odd that he was choosing now to behave himself; though even that didn't seem to help him with their situation. Some of the other patrons were looking over in his direction, clearly taken off guard by his strange attire. A tidbit Ric did not overlook, thoughts of mischief already forming in his head; he knew he shouldn't, but man the temptation was overwhelming!
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Colorado Springs, CO
Early-mid November​

Holy shit.
It took every fibre of Stella's being not to just demolish Ric—or at least attempt to—right there in the middle of the Jasmine Cafe. Darling? In what world was he living in that made it okay to call her that? A part of her knew the display was purely to push her buttons, to purposely get under her skin and really see how far he could take his luck. The worst part was that it was working, but she couldn't help the feeling livid at him for... for almost everything. Everything he did was infuriating! She didn't care whether she could take him on in a fight or not, but at this point she was more than willing to try, especially after she saw Jiao's head pop up at Ric's voice, trying—and failing—to look discretely over at their table. Even Frank lifted his eyebrows in surprise, as if asking Stella why she would ever be with someone like Ric. As if she would, ever. But at least the Dreg had taste.

"Hey Frank," she greeted her sort-of friend, who was dressed impeccably as always. She gave a tight smile and closed her menu, making a point to completely ignore Ric save for a kick under the table, letting her heeled boot connect with his shin. She wished it would connect in other, more sensitive places. Asshole. "I'll have the Mongolian Beef with white rice, but can you guys add tofu to that? Oh, and hot tea for the both of us, please."

"And what kind of soup would you lik—" the young man started to say, the question directed at Ric.

"Hot and sour, for the both of us," Stella cut Frank off, wanting him to leave as soon as possible so she could have a proper talk with the Dreg about what was and wasn't appropriate. For example, permanently blinding him and burning his ass off was not okay to do in public, but it was okay to do at home.

"Your usual then?" Frank asked, smiling, not bothering to write any of it down. After Stella nodded, he then confirmed, "So I've got an order of potstickers, a Sweet and Sour Chicken with fried rice and hot and sour soup, and for you I have the usual, right? I'll be back with the tea."

Stella waited until Frank was out of range, disappearing somewhere in the back, before she aimed a murderous glare at the man in front of her. "What the hell?" she exclaimed in a hushed tone, careful not to draw attention from the other patrons. Not that it was working; they already seemed to be whispering and stealing glances at Ric, most likely because of the way he was dressed. "Darling? Where did that come from? Did you forget who you were for a hot minute? ... And put your hood down," she snapped at him, "You look like an idiot."

A moment of charged, awkward silence passed as Frank reappeared with the tea and two cups, placing them down on the table without a word and running off again, but not before shooting a curious glance their way. Ugh, he likely didn't want to get in the way of the typical 'lovers quarrel.' Stella poured some of the steaming liquid into a cup before she spoke again, crossing her arms in front of her like it was a mechanism to keep Ric away. "No one cares how many promises I make and break for you, because I'm me and you're you." The simple statement was a low blow, but it said everything it needed to: that the whole of Society didn't see him as someone deserving of any decent treatment, and that he would always be beneath Stella no matter how kind of a person she really was. He wasn't deserving of that kindness.

"What kind of decent person does a dine and dash?" she continued on, "These are good people who treat me well, who'd probably treat you well just because you're with me. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? Not you or any of your..." She trailed off as she sought the depths of her vocabulary to describe the Dregs. His people? Things?

But the silence was broken by a different voice, the cocky tone of some male who was nearing their table. "Heyyyy," he drug out the 'y' in the word, a wide grin splitting his face as he finally came into view. Tousled blonde hair that was partially hidden by a beanie framed the top of his face while a beard of slightly darker hair framed his chin. His chocolate eyes sparkled with something aggressive, though his posture and aura remained relaxed. Nonchalant, even. "Well if it isn't the little light bulb finally coming out to brighten everyone's night. No magic tricks tonight? No 'ET phone home' type shit, huh?" He lifted a finger and made the tip of it softly light up, waving it around as he rested his other hand on the table. "Oh, and she's got a friend. Hey, man," he nodded towards Ric, clearly ignorant of who he was.

"Adrian," Stella greeted the newcomer with a less-than-warm welcome, raking her eyes over him in a judgmental manner. If she hadn't known better, she would have guessed he was trash rather than the youngest son of the House Ellison, the only house that originated from North America. He certainly looked like trash with the way his jeans hung too low off his hips, and he always acted like it too. She suspected he was back in Colorado for the winter, but she hadn't expected to see him here out of all places. God, everyone was out tonight. "Where's the babysitter?" she asked calmly, knowing it would piss him off.

Adrian's jaw visibly clenched at her words; at the age of 28, his father still insisted on keeping a bodyguard with him, but it was only because everyone knew the 'bodyguard' was just to keep him from doing the stupid shit he always liked to do. Someone to keep him out of trouble. "Hell if I know," he responded, "I just got a new one last week, and that bitch is crazy."

It was as that moment that a bubbly female voice pierced the air, followed by a giggle. "Adrian? Where'd you—RIC?! OH MY GOD!" she exclaimed loudly when she spotted her charge at the booth in the back. And clearly she saw someone else she recognized. Stella winced as the woman sauntered over; she was all makeup and a short skirt (how did that even make sense in this weather?) and huge breasts that Ric seemed to lose his head in for a second when she bent to hug his shoulders. She looked damn near psychotic.

"Wow, I haven't seen you in literally forever! I had nooooo idea you'd make it out of that giant ice chest." Another annoying giggle followed, and Stella lifted the cup of tea to her lips. This night just couldn't get any worse.
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

It was easy to see that what he was saying got to Stella; he had a feeling she wouldn't like being called that, but the look of utter fury in her eyes made it more real just how much that angered her. Even better was the puzzled looks the waiter and hostess so indiscreetly shot them. Her? A Council of Ten family heir, with a lowly pile of trash like him? It was inconceivable, so much so that if they actually were an item it would create quite the embarrassment for House Durante.

Nonetheless, Ric just watched with a bemused expression as Stella tried to maintain a civil disposition while talking with Frank. The poor kid seemed a little uncomfortable, like he could notice the tension. Her little kick went unnoticed by Ric; her toe connected with the shin guard of his armor, but thankfully it was light enough to where it wouldn't cause her pain in return. He felt the impact though, her way of saying 'Knock it the fuck off', forcing a small smirk to turn the corners of his mouth up a little.

"What? I figured 'darling' was a compliment. Mayhaps I should insult you instead?" the warlock replied coolly, even as she gave him a death glare. He couldn't help letting out a snort though as she commanded him to lose the hood. "And lose the air of mystique? Not a chance, doll." was his next statement, laced with a boastful arrogance.

Though his amusement did falter a little as she chewed him out for his dine-and-dash suggestion; the 'holier-than-thou' attitude is strong with this one, Ricendithas thought to himself. "That's funny...last I checked, no Dreg is decent. Acting like a criminal is all we're known for, isn't it?" he retorted, taking a small sip of his own tea before continuing, a slight chill in his tone "Besides, you said it best. I'm me, and you're you. I might be your bodyguard, but I"m not some dress-up doll you can change to your whimsy. Not you or your limp-dicked Council. You would do best to remember that, little lady."

Their conversation was interrupted, however, by a newcomer that Ric had no real idea who he was. But Stella seemed to know him personally, meaning he was likely another of the uppity higher-echelon snobs. He tried to hold back a snicker as Stella's sharp tongue got under the man's skin. Babysitter, eh? This girl was something else, alright.

But then came something he wouldn't have expected in a million years.

All he did was look to his right at the sound of the bubbly voice, and he found his face smothered by a pair of lovely dirty pillows. If this was who he thought it was...

And he would find it to be the case as she pulled back, letting him see the cute baby face he'd remembered, framed by her long red curls which complimented her pale skin nicely. She'd certainly grown from the last time he saw her, in more ways than one. While not the skinniest nor the chubbiest girl in the world, her newfound curves perfectly accentuated the long lissome legs. And she was still sporting that enormous rack, which seemed almost cartoonish on her previously leaner body, and still stretched her top to near the point of bursting. But to top it off, her voice was different...Like it was missing something.

"Rowena? Is that really you? Haven't seen you in ages." he then said, turning a little to get a better look at her. "Aye, it's me! Last time I saw you, you were still bound in chains and serving Periculosis a heap of trouble. How in the world did you of all people get out?" Ric just grinned, "Same way you did, I"m betting. One of our glorious leaders needed protection for his dearest. So you're this guy's babysitter, I take it?"

Adrian's brow twitched, "Hey, asshat. The name's Adrian Ellison, and she's not my babysitter. So who the hell are you?" At this Rowena grabbed Adrian's shoulder, voice laced with ice "That's enough, Adrian. Don't forget Daddy allowed some force to be used to keep you in line." Her eyes, gold with flecks of summer green scattered throughout the iris, glinted with a dangerous shine, "And you know well as I do...I'm not afraid of getting rough." The young man wanted to protest, but quickly shut his mouth and just sat back down.

Her tone turned more pleasant as she readdressed Ric, "It's been too long, Ric. You and I had so much fun." Letting out another giggle, she then turned her attention to Stella calmly, stating "Oh, but where are my manners. Who's the lovely lady accompanying you?" The warlock snickered, "Consider her my ball and chain. But no, this is Ellastaria Durante." Rowena let out a slight gasp of amusement and wonder, "So you're with the prestigious Durante family. Just like you, always getting the best." She then held out a hand, saying "Rowena Hallion. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

At this Frank came back with the potstickers and soup, stopping right behind Rowena. "Pardon me, miss" he then said politely, Rowena turning away to shoot daggers at the young man who seemed to pale and swallow a little in fright. "Of course, dear. Apologies for being in the way." she then stated coolly, standing aside to allow him safe passage; after setting it down, he gave a small bow and retreated rather quickly; a look over his shoulder showed just how nervous he was. Stella always seemed to keep good company, so why she was with these people that looked like trouble on legs was beyond him.

"So, Ric...You try to get her in bed yet?" the red-haired witch asked bluntly, forcing him to stop drinking his tea and look at her blankly. He then let out a slight chuckle, "Sorry...Contract has a strict hands-off clause for her. And let's just say the terms aren't worth trying to break it for." Rowena gave a slight pout, "Oh, that has to be a shame...Well, you should know I'm always available for you, Wolfswift...Or does Daddy not allow visitors?"
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Colorado Springs, CO
Early-mid November​

"Stella," the princess murmured as she shook Rowena's proffered hand, her eyes taking in the busty, curvaceous redhead. "Nice to meet you too." Lies.

Rowena was precisely the kind of witch that proper ladies were advised not to emulate: crass, ill-mannered things that had no place in Society, the ones who would rather snore and whore their way through life rather than do anything meaningful with it. Distantly Stella wondered what her reason for being locked up was... More specifically, she wondered how powerful she was; there had to be some reason that Adrian was frightened of her. The Ellisons weren't a weak bunch, powerful even in their amount of raw magic, but their family was known for spell-writing and condensing old magic into simpler, more efficient spells. She watched as Adrian pulled up a chair at the end of the table while Rowena slid in the booth next to Ric.

"Of course Lord Durante allows visitors, but my house is strictly a no-hoe zone," Stella interjected, a wicked smirk on her lips that most other women would have wilted under. She couldn't actually stop Ric from inviting her into the house, but she made it perfectly clear how she felt if she ever saw Rowena in her home.

But rather than wilt under the girl's stare, Rowena arched an elegant eyebrow and put her hands on her dainty waist, flashing a sweet smile back at the princess. "Oh, is it? Well, that's too bad. Ric always liked 'em a little... better, anyway, if you know what I mean." Her green eyes flicked in the most subtle way down to Stella's chest, her grin growing even wider.

Adrian sat there with his mouth hanging open a little, his gaze switching between his bodyguard and the princess, caught somewhere between horror, amusement, and disbelief at the catty scene unfolding in front of him.

"Yeah, well, I don't exactly go for Ric's type, you know?" By 'Ric's type,' it was obvious Stella meant Dregs and everyone else who was deemed beneath her on the social ladder, and she turned her face away to eat a few spoonfuls of the hot-and-sour soup. Thank god some of her honey-brown locks fell in front of her face, partially hiding the cheeks that flushed a light pink with embarrassment. It was hardly noticeable behind her slightly tan skin, but she couldn't believe the blow to her ego was caused simply by a comment about breasts. Physicality was really one of the few things Dregs could dangle in front of the elite (along with power), assuming they had it to begin with, and the red-head had quite a bit over pretty much every other woman in the room. Stella's weren't small—some might have even said they were quite large in proportion to her body—but wouldn't everything seem small in comparison to Rowena?

Adrian slowly reached across the table to help himself to a potsticker, drowning it in a saucer full of soy sauce before shoving it in his mouth. "Yup, she doesn't. That's the little light bulb for you, always too good for everybody." Something in his voice served as an indication that he, too, had tried his luck with Stella and, like most everyone else, failed. "Except one of my brothers. Was it Zeus? I think it was Zeus. Anyway, she was totally in love with him, but he decided to marry outside the Ten—" he paused to stuff another fried dumpling in his face "—he always said Stella was more like a kid sister to him. Maybe he didn't like her tits either."

"Adrian!" Stella huffed at him, cheeks flaming at this point and violet eyes glaring daggers at the man; she was completely amazed that he hadn't found any self-restraint over his mouth even through all his 28 years of living. Seriously, who's side was he on anyway? That was the kind of thing that didn't need to be said, especially in front of Ric, who she knew was more than likely to hang that bit of information over her head.

Then ever so quietly, she mouthed, "Flammo," pointing a finger under the table to where his legs where situated, and immediately a burst of flame shot out, scorching Adrian on his knee. It wasn't strong enough for him to catch fire, but it was hot enough for it to hurt, evident by how the blonde man jumped in his seat and dropped his third potsticker in the small dish of soy sauce, causing the brown liquid to splash out onto the black table. He narrowed his eyes at the princess. "Hey, fuck you, you know that?"

"Play nice," Rowena chastised him, although she, too, gave Stella a strange look. Then turning to her fully, she added, "In any case, that's really too bad, dear. Ric is just amaaaazing in bed, and you can take my word for it." It didn't occur to her that the stigma surrounding sex still existed for the members of Society, and the porcelain skin of her baby face glowed as her warm eyes dragged hungrily down the warlock's form, letting out yet another tinkle of a laugh. "He's packing waaaay more than magic under that cloak of his," she purred, flipping her long curls over one shoulder, nails raking down Ric's arm.

Stella looked almost mortified, her eyes wide in speechlessness as they fixed themselves upon a spot on the wall to the right of the booth, studiously avoiding looking at the pair sitting across from her. "Oh look, Frank is coming with the food," she mumbled as she saw the young Asian man exit from the back, hoping the waiter's appearance would alleviate the awkward tension in the air.
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Just like Rowena to handle herself like that, Ric thought with a bemused expression; the contract was very clear on his needing to protect Stella. But it didn't make him have to 'stand up for her honor', just make sure she didn't have anything bad happen to her.

Many of the Dregs were often - at the very least - acquaintances with each other, and some even more so than that. They had to be, since 'Society' seemed to love putting them out on the sidelines. If they didn't stick together in some way, shape or form even more of them would have been taken to prison. Rowena and Ric in particular helped each other out of more jams than most might think, and they shared plenty an 'intimate' evening together. Ric and Rowena could easily call each other friends, but by no means were they lovers. One didn't need to 'love' someone to sleep with them, after all. Unlike what Society seemed to obsessively profess, having a healthy sexual appetite outside of wedlock wasn't a bad thing. Besides, Rowena often played the role of a 'black widow', using charm and seduction to get close to her targets. So she had a FAR better idea about just how many 'good citizens' were actually faithful to their betrothed.

The two Dregs both stifled laughs as Adrian blatantly insulted Stella's endowment, or lack thereof. Ric really had to try hard to not bust a gut; Stella was a firecracker, it seemed. More than he seemed to give her credit for. And for her to use his element like that...Genius. Sitting back up, he gave Rowena a slight look of amazement that she would compliment him like that; then again, she rarely chose not to speak her mind. Got her in a fair bit of trouble, but honesty like that was hard to come by. "You flatter me, love. Wouldn't sell yourself short though; you're quite a minx yourself." he grinned, leaning in to nip at her neck.

Rowena just laughed and playfully pushed him away, "Ric! We're in public, you naughty dog." The warlock snickered, "So? We've done it in places more open than this...Remember that time in Paris?" At this Rowena flushed a little, "I didn't think you would actually DO it! You made me look like a saint!" Once Adrian finished cleaning himself off, doing his best to get the soy sauce stains out of his clothes, he looked up with a rather shocked expression, "What, are you guys exhibitionists or something?" Ric just laughed, "No, but since we're Dregs and all, why show them any decency? Not like they want us around even if we play by their rules. All those snobby elitists can shove it for all I care."

At this, Adrian's fist clenched and he stood up rather quickly; Rowena shot him another icy glare, "Sit, boy." But Adrian didn't back down, though he still seemed scared senseless. "S-shut up" was his reply, his voice laced with a quivering of genuine fear for his safety, "You're under a contract too. Anything happens to me and it's on your head...So you can't make do anything...Bitch!"

Frank, meanwhile, was just coming out but stopped when he heard the commotion; as much as he wanted to give Stella her food and speak with her, this seemed like a REALLY bad time. It didn't help that Adrian Ellison was here; normally, he was pretty relaxed, but he all too often made inappropriate passes at the staff and other female patrons. Sometimes it worked for him, other times it didn't and he had to be asked to leave. But he always tipped well whenever he was served; he was actually one of the few 'elite progeny' that seemed to respect the working class, especially considering the wealth the families of the Ten had.

The witch's eyes flashed dangerously, "So, you think having me sign that shitty little paper makes you a big man? The only reason I'm not smearing your scrawny ass on the pavement is because I actually want your father to be happy. He's a good man who got screwed over, especially after what your slut of a mother did to him. So that means keeping you safe, you little shit. But that doesn't mean corporal punishment is out of the question; your father's smart enough to know you need a firm hand." Standing up, she towered over him, her height that of 5'9" and Adrian being 5'4", her hands on her wide hips as she stared him down.

"So, unless you want a real fucking problem...Sit. Now!" she spoke again, Ric adding with a snickering grin "I'd do it, Adrian. She might look all sexy goddess like, but you don't want her angry." Rowena turned her head and shot Ric a wink, then turned her attention back to her charge. Adrian's body twitched, fuming at being shamed right now; damn Dregs, he thought. "Screw this, I'm out of here. Talk to you later, light bulb. Try not to light up someone else's day, will you?" he then muttered as he stormed out of the restaurant. Rowena let out a sigh, "Damn, and I was really looking forward to some egg foo yung." She then leaned back down and gave Ric a kiss on the cheek, saying with quite a beautiful smile on her lips "Give a holler sometime, stud. You know how to reach me." before following her charge out the door. "Sorry about the trouble!" the witch apologized quickly to the young waiter, who let out a somewhat satisfied breath of relief.

He then walked over and set the food before the remaining pair, along with some extra plates, Ric clapping his hands together, "Thank you sir...Ah, this looks fantastic." Frank smiled, "I hope you enjoy the food, sir!" He then turned his attention to Stella and asked, "How have you been, Stella? I always seem to miss you whenever you decide to come in, so it has been a little while."
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Colorado Springs, CO
Early-mid November​

Stella shrugged at Frank, her eyes still following the other pair as they walked across the parking lot and disappeared behind a row of cars, making it even more impossible to see them in the dark. Thank goodness they were finally gone! "Oh, you know... The same old. You?" she told the waiter, beaming up at him, grateful to finally have some semblance of normalcy in her night.

But her answer made his lips twitch up in a smile; clearly this was not the 'same old.' He rarely saw her with Adrian to begin with, and the hooded guy across the table was as new as could be. But he rolled with it and nodded along. "Still in school, you know how it is." He frowned a bit and crossed his arms, his voice lowering as he then said, "Sucks that I can't practice magic as often, but I'm still trying! I told you I'd catch up to you one day, so don't count me out just yet!" He grinned at her, his face full of boyish charm. "Anyway, I'll let you guys eat. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll catch you later?"

Stella nodded back and watched him walk away, a tug of envy pulling at her. Frank was lucky in some ways, along with the rest of the magical population that wasn't half as important as the Ten. They truly had the best of both worlds, able to practice the arcane as well as live sort-of normal lives. They had so many options available to them. Maybe Frank didn't—his parents insisted on him attending Colorado College, the highly selective private college where he was studying Economics—but most of them did, and that was a luxury that she didn't have. Not many of the Ten would have it either, or the Dregs, she thought to herself as she pushed the food around on her plate, keeping quiet for a few minutes while she and her bodyguard ate. Well, while Ric ate.

"Rowena seems... nice," Stella finally said, rearranging the pieces of seasoned beef on her plate with her chopsticks for the ump-teenth time, not really picking them up to eat. She wasn't sure why she bothered lying to him considering he had sat through the entire thing, and had even heard the parts about her 'parts.' Strangely, she felt oddly self-conscious sitting in silence in front of him, suddenly wishing she hadn't worn a sports bra. But what did it matter to him how big they were? Why did she even care? It was rare for her to be on the losing end of some verbal sparring (the ladies of the elite seemed to excel at it in some way or another), and the jab done by the female Dreg stung a little more than she expected it to. And with Adrian's dumb ass fueling it with story telling time, it left her drained of the energy to continue fighting with Ric.

But the comment was still a lame attempt at conversation, something she couldn't help. There was nothing else she could talk about with him; they had nothing in common other than their dislike for each other. What was she supposed to say? 'Hey, what do you think of the weather?' No... 'What do you think of the food?' seemed more appropriate given that they were eating, and it was a relatively safe topic to chat about, as well as being an incredibly boring one. It was almost up there with the weather. Or maybe the honest route of 'I think Rowena's a skank' was a better choice? But as much as she wanted to blurt out the words, she didn't want a repeat of the earlier scene. And she would rather die than have Ric start comparing her breasts to the ginger's massive jugs.

After downing the rest of the tea in her cup, she set down her chopsticks and sighed, taking a deep breath and exhaling audibly. "I'll be outside," she told the warlock across from her, sliding out of the booth and stretching as she stood. One hand reached within the top of the long-sleeved shirt she wore, digging around for a couple seconds in the right side of the stretchy undergarment before pulling out two fifty-dollar bills, tossing them lightly onto the table, careful to place it in spot entirely clear of spilled soy sauce. A hundred dollars on a dinner that was likely around thiry-five dollars seemed to be an awful lot, but it was more or less her apology for causing the small scene at the restaurant. And she was sincerely sorry, but she was too tired to explain everything. Maybe she'd tell Frank later if she had the time. She actually planned on talking to him before she left but... Ah, oh well.

"Thanks so much," Stella smiled at Jiao as she exited, leaving Ric at the table. Almost immediately, Jiao craned her neck toward the back booth, trying to see what the warlock was doing now that he was alone; even two elderly Chinese women looked his way, whispering in hushed Mandarin, no doubt gossiping about him already.

"You're her protector, aren't you?" Frank asked rather nicely as he sat down at the table, setting an empty take-out box and a Styrofoam soup container on the table. He began to slowly pack up Stella's largely uneaten food, taking his time in separating the white rice from the cuts of beef. "She doesn't like wasting food," he said simply, not really expecting an answer, but smiling as he closed the box and moved on to pouring the leftover hot and sour soup into the shallow foam cup. It would be clear to anyone that he just about adored her. Liked her, both as a friend and in the romantic sense of the word. And yet he also seemed to know that he had absolutely no chance with her, not only because he was in school a majority of the time, but because he had an idea of exactly how important she was to the magical community.

"You don't like her," he said next. It wasn't a question, but an observation that hadn't gone unnoticed. It wasn't said with any malice either (Frank wasn't that kind of person), but he made it obvious that he disagreed. The Stella he knew, or rather everyone else knew, was not the Stella they had seen tonight, fraternizing with trouble and shady faces. But it wasn't his job to change anyone's mind on the way they might have felt about a certain person, and he doubted it would have worked anyway. When he was finished putting the food away, he tied the box and cup within a plastic bag, then pushed the small package with the bold red 'THANK YOU' message on the plastic towards Ric. "She may not look it, but she's real nice. You mind taking that with you? She'll feel bad if you don't, and my mom'll never hear the end of her apologies. Hope you liked the food, man." Frank flashed Ric a friendly smile and stood, retreating one last time as he took Stella's empty plates with him.
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Ric just continued to eat, letting the two of them have their conversation; the kid seemed nice enough, plus his magic compared to Stella's was relatively weak. He found it funny enough that she seemed to pride herself on being tough, yet got so silent after Rowena's little tongue lashing. And while Stella's food barely had the smallest dent in it, Ric just about cleared his plate. Thankfully, the lasagna he had earlier made sure there were plenty of leftovers, something that the warlock would surely go after in the days to come.

His ears picked up the whispers, an unspoken enchantment allowing near-fluid translation of the speech:

"Never seen that one around here before. I'm getting some rather unsettling sensations from him."

"He dresses so strangely. I wonder why Stella is around him."

"Who knows, maybe she's finally seeing someone. Would have thought she might pick someone more...cleaned-up."

"Least she didn't pick Ellison's kid. The poor man, having to raise a spoiled brat by himself."

"Very true."

Ric just grinned and polished off the last of his tea, Frank coming back to put everything away. And then he brought up his real task. "Protector, maybe. According to her, she doesn't need protection." he muttered, not really giving a damn whether she wasted food or not. Ric then snorted a little as he commented on his dislike of her; dislike was a tad of an understatement. A typical holier-than-thou, school-taught elite that thought their fame and wealth meant everything was just supposed to work for them.

"To you maybe." was the warlock's only reply, taking the bag of food and standing up. Must be nice to have genuine feelings toward someone, he thought. Though if he were being honest, Frank seemed more Stella's type than any snob he'd ever encountered. He was well-behaved, humble and well-spoken. Not to mention he rocked that waiter outfit pretty nicely, made him look all cleaned up and professional. Maybe he should set them up, give her a boyfriend to take the edge off.

"Nah, she and Daddy dearest might get all pissy that a Dreg is 'trying to control her love life'. Fuck that noise." he thought to himself, saying aloud "My compliments to the chef nonetheless. That chicken was fantastic." was his honest-to-god compliment; the food really was good. A little 'Amercianized' for his taste, but they held true to the majority of the spice palette. And with, he soon followed outside to see Stella standing with her back against the wall. He'd seen some troubled looks, but she looked like she was damn near depressed. Better grow a thick skin, girl, that was the warlock's thought.

"Hey, idiot...You forgot this. And here I thought you were such a big fan of the food." Ric stated, holding up the bag. "Well, since teleporting's obviously out of the question with you, how do you propose we get home? I got no trouble walking the way back, but you'll probably want to take a cab if you have the money for it. Since you know, we Dregs love being flat broke. Hardly ever saw a hair's breadth of the money we made those asshat Wardens." Of course, he knew that he would have to follow Stella whichever way she wanted to get home, but he figured he would leave it up to her. Despite his being an asshole, he was getting the feeling that he was just kicking her when she was already down for the count. And that really was no fun at all.
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Colorado Springs, CO
Early-mid November​

"Of course I don't have money for a cab," Stella looked at him with guarded eyes, raising an eyebrow at what she thought was a silly suggestion. "I left it all on the table for damage control. They haven't had that much excitement since Grandma Mei almost beat Adrian for trying to play grab-ass with her granddaughter... And that was last winter." A small smile appeared on her lips as the memory played back in her mind, almost laughing out loud as she remembered wooden chopsticks flying through the air, and a very small, very angry Chinese woman mouthing off to Adrian in a rapid mix of Mandarin and English. At the time he'd had a different bodyguard, another Dreg who was much easier to refuse than Rowena. It was a wonder that he was still allowed at the Jasmine Cafe; trouble always seemed to stir when Adrian came into town from California for his winter sporting trips, but she suspected it had to do with the fact that his last name was Ellison.

She fake-scoffed as Ric held up the bag of leftover Chinese food, saying, "Why are you giving that to me? Aren't you going to shovel it down into that cave of a stomach of yours?" But she walked forward and grabbed the bag from Ric's fingers anyway, knowing it was likely Frank who packed it up for her. The guy was sweet, he really was, and Stella liked that he was easy to talk to. He was a great listener, magically talented for someone in the working class of Society, and he was the closest thing to a 'close friend' that she'd had in a while.

The point of moving out to Colorado was so that she didn't have to involve herself in Council politics, and it was a breath of fresh air to be around people who didn't want to talk about new policies or amending orders, or even changes in prison security. That wasn't her job. At least, not yet. She didn't even know what being a monarch entailed as it was one of the highly guarded secrets of the magical world. It could be exactly what they all thought it was—a position for a pretty face to fill, attending various government events of the Normals and serving as the ambassador for the Ten—or it could be something completely different. Something totally amazing. Hell, she didn't know; she would have been happy if they told her to sit on her ass and watch Netflix all day long. Perfect.

"Teleportation's not really out of the question," Stella explained as she started walking down the strip mall, turning her head as she talked to her bodyguard. "It's just that I don't like startling the Normals with things they don't like seeing. This is a pretty quiet city, and not a lot of us—" she used her hands to gesture towards Ric and herself "—live here. I mean, there's Frank and his family, but you saw them. They own a Chinese place and he goes to college. They live normal lives." The word 'normal' was, of course, used in relation to the lives that the Normals led. She was more than aware that the families of the Ten, as well as the upper class warlocks and witches not of royal heritage, lived their lives in grandeur. It made her curious about the kind of life Ric had before he was locked up.

The both of them reached the major road where the shopping area branched off of, and Stella took a left, heading away from the commercial areas and toward the housing subdivision that she knew extended quite a long ways in the direction they were headed. But it wasn't the neighborhood she was aiming for; it was the large wooded area across the street, roughly a mile down the road.

"I'm careful to teleport where no one can see me. What if we just disappeared right here? We'd probably cause some poor soul to get in an accident." Stella nodded to the nearest car, a vehicle that whizzed past them as it cut another driver off. Car horns blared. "Well, not him. Prius drivers don't need any help getting in accidents." She had no idea how much Ric kept up with the modern world, but she chuckled quietly at her own joke, feeling slightly better than before. Still pouty, but... better.

"And I thought my dad told you...? You're not flat broke anymore, seeing as you have access to the Durante funds now. Limited, obviously, but there you go. See? Your job isn't all that bad." Stella turned to smirk at him, teasing him lightly as she said, "I'd tell you that you could buy some better clothes, but I don't want to ruin the 'mystique.' And no trips to Paris either, okay? The family money isn't for financing your freaky public sexcapades." She looked forward again only to roll her eyes, although she did crack a smile. Maybe it was alright to sate a little bit of her curiosity. "How'd you meet Rowena anyway?"
 
RE: Playing the Game [ Ariamella & Razgriz ]

Well, at least she was being snarky again; better that they butted heads anyway. Would keep things interesting. "Well, at least Rowena's boob joke didn't get you too down." he replied with a grin; really, her chest was fine for someone her size. He liked the size to match the woman's body; anything larger and it just looked ridiculous. Still, a grin crossed his face as he pictured some old Chinese lady caning Adrian. God damn that was a hilarious mental image.

"I had my fill already. Chinese and Italian in one day? That's the sign that the cave is full of treasure." was his rebuttal, grinning all the while. Honestly, she could give him shit for just about anything, and if his being a bottomless pit was her focus, then she was free to beat that dead horse to her heart's content. He knew he could eat; hell, if she thought his suggesting a dine-and-dash was just another way to prod her sensitivities, she'd be surprised how many places he left holding the bill.

"I think Frank likes you, by the way. Not that you probably care what I think." was his reply as she discussed the boy's family, looking around at the slack-jawed idiots staring at those glaring screens of their cellphones, some even walking in pairs and doing it together. Honestly, what was the point? If you were going to walk with someone, at least TRY to engage in a conversation. If this was the modern world of 'normals', then he was more glad than ever that he held on to his ancient secrets.

"In any event, I figured that much...Partly why I hated coming here when I was free. People are so freaking backwards in this country. Reject something that can help you...Bunch of morons." Ric said after Stella explained the blatantly obvious. Truth be told, America wasn't the only country that was majorly anti-magic or just unaware; it was just that they were the most vocal about it. Not really wise considering what those who possessed magical blood and a strong grip of their craft could do. It was an ant challenging a lizard to a fight.

And speaking of ants, the Prius definitely made him flinch; in a near instant, his hands sparked but quickly fizzled out as the madman driver barreled down the road. "Country full of psychopaths...Saving the environment my ass." he muttered; in all his years of living, he went to fewer countries that destroyed the native landscape with such malicious intent as North America. While by no means a nature freak, he lacked respect for those that said one thing and did another, or those who ignored the blatantly obvious. Like most 'normals', they prided themselves on being accepting but were just as full of bigotry and prejudice as anyone. And the same went for the magic users, though by and large they were more open about it.

"Do I now...Funny, the contract never mentioned that little tidbit." was his reply, tapping himself on the head as he refocused on the conversation at hand. Even if he did know about it, he knew he would be restricted on where he would be able to get things. Ignoring her jab at his 'job', he went ahead and launched himself into a story:

"As I'm sure you know, Dregs never really had places to call their own. Not pretty like your nobility and their thousand-acre plots of land, at least. For whatever reason, the Council seemed to loathe the fact that the fact that there were those outside the 'lineage' more powerful than themselves." he started, continuing "I don't care for authority. Never have. Rowena felt the same way." Giving a pause, Ric continued "She helped me out of a jam, far before I was imprisoned. Let's just say the Council wasn't too fond of me burning out a vampire colony...One, mind you, that was attacking towns for victims as blood banks and new recruits to their numbers. Not sure how much you pay attention to the news, but if you heard about the devastation in that town in Lithuania...That was me. And she helped me escape the coming persecution." His fist clenched as he walked on further with her, surface starting to glow with an ethereal haze as his head hung low, the hood concealing his face from view "No matter what those Council dogs tell people, that village was doomed. Not a single unturned soul left. Of all the hundreds that died, there were nothing but vampires there."

That last bit was said with a certain bit of heat, Ric starting to show a more 'fiery' side to his otherwise joking disposition. In truth, he despised the Council. Every single one of them. The ones who made these bullshit policies. The ones who would rather treat symptoms of a cause than get to the root of it themselves. But eventually he calmed down, looking back up to where they were headed. They seemed to be closer to the woods. "We should be far enough away that we can teleport now. If you feel so inclined."
 
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