Chapter 1 Side RP - Master Iene (Day 1)

The apartments of the Master of Jade College are, in a word, opulent. Everything about the room says that the occupant enjoys the finest of things, and the visible trappings of power and wealth: paintings, rich carpeting, a wooden desk that could only have been made by magic, considering the intricate way the legs twist and interweave into the desktop as if it were a living tree. Given the fact that the Master is a Vaelt Elf, it's entirely possible that it is still living. The elves of The Vaelt are well-known for their deep magical and spiritual connection with the flora and fauna of their homeland.

A case behind the desk displays a number of random, strange, unique items from all over the known world. A glowing orb that swirls with a rainbow of colors, levitating slightly above the shelf. A whitestone vase with a crystalline flower rising out of it, the flower constantly changing shape and form. A box completely inscribed over its surface with runes, silvery banding and an intricate lock that looks spun out of metallic thread. Too many to truly count, displayed like trophies of unknown victories over the years.

As Verrian enters the room, Aisurn is standing near the desk, speaking -- perhaps more -- with a shorter elven woman. With elves, it is often hard to tell, but the wide-eyed, awed, innocent look with which the woman regards the Master gives the impression she is much younger. Verrian's entrance does not seem to disrupt whatever it is he and the woman are discussing, as Aisurn touches the woman's cheek tenderly, and murmurs something too quietly to be heard from where Verrian stands. He nods toward the door, still looking into the woman's eyes.

The woman reaches up to touch Aisurn's hand where it rests on her cheek, looks down, and leaves. As she passes Verrian on her way out the door, she gives the Naucan woman a look of such venom that it could stop the heart of someone with a lesser constitution.

"You're interrupting, Verrian. I thought you had grown beyond such petty displays of contrariness," the Master says as he moves to pour himself a bit of an amber-colored liquor from a side table near one of the windows. He does not offer Verrian any.

"Apparently not," she says, unfazed. "It's almost as if I don't respect you."

She walks toward him. "Since I'm leaving tomorrow, I've been saying my goodbyes and returning things that don't belong to me." She holds out the dagger in all its seductive grandeur. "Sorry I'm so late in returning it. It took a while to dig it out of my back." Her smile is as bright and cold as a winter sun.

The Master makes no move to take the offer, sipping from his small crystal glass with a wry twist of a smile. "It was a gift, my dear. Not a loan."

He leans casually against the desk. "If it makes you feel better to blame me for all that has transpired, you are allowed to do so, of course," he says in a calm, warm, almost drawl. Despite his casual tone, his eyes are direct, searching. "If I may, you don’t seem as if you feel better. I know the signs of a half-truth, Verrian. As do you. I taught them to you, after all."

As he certainly expects, this triggers in her a white-hot flash of temper, but she easily catches it before it manifests and turns it into fuel for the camouflage that hides her reaction entirely.

She can see him watching her, the approval in his eyes. He'd taught her that, too.

Verrian decides to redirect the conversation. "What's there to feel better about? I'm being sent to explore a frontier of unknown hazards with a band of mostly young people too inexperienced to know what they're getting into. What's the point of this, Aisurn? What do you hope to gain?" She steps slightly closer, trying to read him. "What's in this for you?

He lightly presses the tips of his fingers to his chest. "What do I get out of it?" he says airily.

Aisurn laughs. "You haven’t heard the gossip, then? How I leaped from my seat at the naming of the members of your... band, as you call them, when Silverhelm put forth your name?" he answers, his hand to his chest, and his eyes toward the ceiling overhead, every image of the poor, misunderstood victim. As quickly as he put up the act, it is gone again, and he steps close enough to his visitor to embrace her. Looking down into her eyes, his features turn stony, stern, the edge of anger burning just beneath. "Do you really think I want you to leave? Have I ever wanted you to leave?" he says softly.

So it is true, she sees - he hasn't contrived for her to be assigned to this mission. That's good. If Aisurn were sending her, there would be ulterior motives, and motives nested within those motives, and that was what she had feared most. That would have meant so much more danger for her companions.

She laughs in his face. "Of course you've never wanted me to leave. I'm a collector's item, much like those baubles in your case there. I'm surprised you never had a larger one built to keep me on display for your legions of simpering toadies."

He spreads his arms, gesturing toward the room, the window and college grounds beyond. "Isn’t this my trophy case? You’re hardly my only success story, Verrian.". He turns away, pacing casually through the room. "Keep an eye out, Verrian. Almost nothing is ever as it seems on the surface. I have trained you to be observant, to find the hidden meaning."

He takes a glance back over his shoulder with a smirk as he continues across the room. "The hidden plan."

Verrian watches him prowling his territory like an overconfident lion. The preening smugness, the smirk. It all seems a bit over the top, even for him. It's as if he's giving a performance, though why he'd bother to do so for her she can't imagine. As he's said, she's a trophy he already won.

As he's bidden her, she looks for the hidden meaning, and she thinks she's found it: he's trying to camouflage his response to an unexpected, and unaccustomed, impotence. After all, someone else is plundering the trophy case, sending Verrian on this expedition against his express wishes. For all Aisurn's power and machinations, he's unable to stop it.

She laughs again, now leaning against his desk herself and grinning at him. "Now I see. Karok has gotten the better of you, and you have no idea how to cope. The Great Aisurn Iene of The Vaelt, bested by a dwarf!"

Aisurn rests his hands atop his desk, standing across from Verrian. "You will believe what you want to believe. As I said earlier, whatever makes you feel better."

He smiles blandly at the woman across from him. "Now, do you need something else so that you can leave feeling better about yourself?"

The smile on Verrian's face is broad and nearly incandescent as she practically skips down the long staircase and out of the tower. She's just stepped off the jade bridge for the final time when she realizes she's still got Aisurn's dagger.