the shadow is mine ;

Sinbyrn's ascent was singular, almost appearing predestined in its ease. She'd acquired much in such a short time, all while being surrounded by what could only be perceived as tragedies. The only one left in her clergy class to ascend to the priesthood, the fall of her house, and the reorganization of the power structures of the Underdark would normally be hindrances, yet she continued to rise with each step. Ambition was a a natural component, but she was simply acting in accordance with her prayers. At least, that will always be her claim despite the fact her serpentine blade rarely hissed with hunger even when she dwelt in the shadows of Court.

In fact, Severon summoned up enough bravery to pause his work and turn fully to her, fabricating his own smile and becoming the very picture of subtle patience and humility. "It would be an honor to fabricate a new mount worthy of the Priesthood, Priestess Sinbyrn. Or are you requesting a more personal one, one customized to your own liking?" He tried to ignore the idea of one of his wonderful, exalted creations ever having to lick her boots. The horror.

There was something to be said of the Advocate, who constantly swayed to the beat of her own drum, who mulled over each and ever deviant route until settling on a methodically thought approach; a woman of smarts and strength, yet one who still was wretchedly human deep down. Everyone wanted the validity of being loved, a comfort she often went without, but she still sought out the dark elf despite. He was ever dark thought she'd had, manifested into a reality, and yet he was the respite for every damning choice she'd ever made and would continue to make. She wasn't sure when Severon had become so intertwined within her life, the man was still grossly separated from the quotidian reality of it, and yet Efigenia found him entirely inseparable from it upon a closer examination. This insidious weaving of their lives, a subtle inclination that spurred this final leap of something far more serious than this had ever been intended. Once a means to an end, this maddening pull to further her necromantic magic, spurred now into something of cushioned oblivion.

"Take my arm," he requested, a gentleness in his tone that was most unlike him. "I think something a little more personal would fit the promise, wouldn't you say? We both have magic to vow with." Severon would let Efigenia hold him there and use the hand on that arm to hold her arm in kind. If she did, a dark tendril of shadow would begin to circle their arms, waiting for her own thread of magic to join his.

"An offering," there was often satisfaction within the Advocate when she carved her own path, evident in the careful navigation towards choosing her own phrasing. Things between them... frivolous and fragile, not marked by any genuine longevity; there was nothing that inspired her to wholly change that and perhaps they needn't quite be defined, but Efigenia found that the further she delved into the abyssal darkness, the more insistent the witch had become towards crossing her T's and dotting her I's. "Something tangible," where his gifts were perfectly curated to the world she navigated this was, instead, beneficial to them both; his magic was so vastly different from hers, shadow magic that was entirely esoteric to the dark elves. No matter how much she vied to understand, to feel such element herself, Efigenia would be an outsider to the elements of shadow he could garner. This was something parallel, a channeling that could be called upon if he ever needed it, and she the same.

"A marriage of magic." He mused, not thinking through the words that flowed out of him as he inspected the pendant with a new sense of awe. Truly a marriage of magic by a connection and sharing he didn't think to have between them before. It would certainly come to use for Efigenia... and to him? To have any sort of connection towards a coven's magic and, perhaps, insight into whatever might be left of Tiamat's influence over the witches? The elve's eyes narrowed as he turned it, seeing both the simplicity of it but also feeling what he could of it's pulsing magic. "I will take it," he said softly. Severon gazed towards Efigenia again, meeting her eyes with sincerity. "I will take it on one condition... we vow something. We vow that our paths will remain forever entwined while this connects us and that if our paths were ever to diverge and I return this to you, that still neither one of us will ever be able to harm the other."

Felwood

♝

When it came to high ranking women among the elves, Severon had been raised beneath the very highest. He knew better than to not curb his tongue in female presense, no matter the fact this one was hardly an adult. An infant, really. A being of lesser intellect. Yet intellect did not mean status, unfortunately, and his Mother and mother was particularly fond of this one. "May Lloth look favorably on your wild ambitions, Sinbyrn," he mused diplomatically. The only indication of Severon's bad mood was in the way he failed to meet her eyes, his focus set on the little silver orb suspended by magic in front of him. Severon worked to temper it with a tiny purple flame from his instrument while speaking. "I'm almost curious as to what your behests would involve but... I'm not sure you yourself even know." No one understood him and his work - such was the tragic fate of genius.

"And what is this?" Severon asked in a low voice, the pleased surprise becoming a smile on his face as he held up the pendant with his index finger and thumb. "... A gift, a game or a test?"