The inn was full of life - and obnoxiously loud. The cacophony of voices was enough to make Avorra shake her head in distaste. She was just getting ready to leave when a man stood from his seat and offered a seat across the table. She raised an eyebrow at the man, but he was the first person to properly talk to her since she'd entered the city. She lowered her eyebrow and turned her neutral lips into a smirk. She sat down across from the man, and a waiter showed to take her order. She started with her favorite, raspberry tea served cold. It'd been her favorite since she discovered it in Orlais. The sweetness of it was delightful to her tastebuds. As she stirred her straw in the tea, she looked across the table, peering into the man's eyes. She could smell the magic seeping off of him, so tantalizing, but she needed to calm her urges. This was no place to consume a fellow mage. At least, not yet.
There was something peculiar about this mage. His magic smelled... rotten. The Keen Insight from her own hedge witchery told her that it was a variety of magic that he possessed. Umbramancy was the most primed, the shadows from the candlelight danced and flickered around him, as if compelled to obey. Yet there was more. Deeper, she sensed some form of necromancy, much like her own. Was that where that rotten smell was coming from? No... there was more. Entropy, Hydromancy. Rather basic skillsets in regard to magic. And then, underneath all of that: Blood Magic. They shared much in common with their magic, but she wondered if he could know that. She was Saarebas to the Qunari, and a Hedge Witch to the rest of Thedas. Her powers were foreign to all but those like her.
The smell hit her nose again. It was indeed coming from him, but then she realized it wasn't his magic. No, something lived deeper inside of him. Something hidden. A spirit? No, the smell was putrid, filled with malice. He was possessed by a demon, but of what type, she could not discern. Perhaps his future actions would tell her what inhabited his soul. He'd give away something, sooner or later.
There was something peculiar about this mage. His magic smelled... rotten. The Keen Insight from her own hedge witchery told her that it was a variety of magic that he possessed. Umbramancy was the most primed, the shadows from the candlelight danced and flickered around him, as if compelled to obey. Yet there was more. Deeper, she sensed some form of necromancy, much like her own. Was that where that rotten smell was coming from? No... there was more. Entropy, Hydromancy. Rather basic skillsets in regard to magic. And then, underneath all of that: Blood Magic. They shared much in common with their magic, but she wondered if he could know that. She was Saarebas to the Qunari, and a Hedge Witch to the rest of Thedas. Her powers were foreign to all but those like her.
The smell hit her nose again. It was indeed coming from him, but then she realized it wasn't his magic. No, something lived deeper inside of him. Something hidden. A spirit? No, the smell was putrid, filled with malice. He was possessed by a demon, but of what type, she could not discern. Perhaps his future actions would tell her what inhabited his soul. He'd give away something, sooner or later.
To whom do I have the pleasure of dining with?The Pale Witch finally spoke after a long, palpable silence.
04-26-2024, 04:16 PM
