#kaanstarter

“There’s a lot of value to what Hazal said, bring the necromancers here, fight them on our own terms. On our turf. They're stronger in the Otherworld, it'd be a mistake to try to take them on there.” It put Rome in danger, but it gave them an advantage, Kaan would be preoccupied, Virgil knew that much. Good for him. “I modified the Amaranthus’ witch’s mark,” the Ivy’s resources were extensive, and like the Amaranthus they were highly skilled in hunting and putting down witches. “As it stands spreading my own mark requires physical contact, but we can enchant a given space to bind the power of those within.” A mass conjuring would take time and magic, but covens from across the globe were flocking to Rome, “we bring them here, seal their magic, and strip them of their power.” It would require someone in necromanteion to draw the runes, it was a principle of conjuration. He'd suggest they execute them from there, but Vivianne had already been vocal on her feelings about all that. Out of respect he didn't press it any further, but still, a witch without magic was still a threat.

Halloween, then the wedding, and it wasn’t like there hadn’t been other things over the years. Just... Small inferences that indicated that Kaan always knew more than he was letting on, was capable of more than he was letting on. Raffaele was an adept, he’d been in the coven for the last twelve years, if there was something he should know, then the witch couldn’t help but feel like he deserved to be let in. “You always...” Raffaele started as he looked over at the other who’d always been equal parts mentor and father, “you always seem to know when something’s coming.” It just made him think that Kaan was involved somehow, the Asphodel, the convenient way that bombs had gone off at pretty much every place in the city but their own. “You’ve always protected me, looked out for me I know the city -” Raffaele had been hauled in enough time by marshals over the years, innately suspicious of anyone affiliated with the coven renowned for its practices, “I know they hate us, but if there’s something I should know, you can tell me.”

Affiliations weren’t of great concern, Kaan’s coven had a bloody history and the witch’s origins were also questionable. That someone so young could hold so much power and could rise so quickly. It raised questions but not enough to nail down anything definitively, just the same, the blood witches and their potential to the Asphodel had gone uninvestigated for too long. Whether Kaan was guilty or not didn’t bother him, he couldn’t help but think that the two of them were similar in a sense. Surviving, thriving, this is what mattered more than the lives of... Well... Everyone else. “Who do you think it is?” Theo asked, he leaned forward a bit, putting some dramatic emphasis on the question as he whispered, “the traitor.”

location: some stuffy, upscale bar

notes: shop talk

“I mean, how can we be certain what they want - destruction of a city seems a bit overwrought, don’t you think?” Theo digressed as the two discussed the recent events and motivations of the Asphodel that plagued the city. “From what I’ve heard your coven is the most vulnerable to corruption, given your members’ predilection towards the dark arts. How can you be certain there aren’t members of the Asphodel hidden among your ranks?” 

location: Fates

notes: ur a joke, kid. Pre vampirism.

Meant to meet Remi here, Zeke sat at a table and waited for his boyfriend to arrive, it still felt strange to say out loud. Boyfriend. But that’s what they were, Remi had spent enough nights in his bed to prove that just friends was never going to be all that they’d be. Maybe Zeke wasn’t the most gifted witch, but he worked hard, and maybe his family turned up their nose at him but he had at least one good thing going for him. A few good friends, and a guy he was completely obsessed with. “Um, that seat’s taken.” Zeke said as his brow furrowed, the sight of the sovereign never invoked many positive feelings. Kaan was a blood witch. Maybe worse. 

setting: The Otherworld

notes: so lonely

In Dirthara’s dreams he heard Ayi’ig’s call, the Queen of the Drow with her cruel gaze turned towards him. She had not sent him here, he’d been forced here, but if he did not make the most of this then there would be repercussions when he inevitably returned to Menzoberranzan. In waking hours he sought out someone who could aid him, the heir and the spare that had resurrected him had done so unaware that what they were bringing back was a far cry from the eladrin they had known in Dirthara’s past life. Even now though he felt the dark permeation of corruption as it seeped into Rome, in the Otherworld the terror navigated this vile source of power - using shadow magic to draw him to it like a beacon. 

At the temple’s heart there stood three statues, one was easily recognized as Ayi’ig, Queen of the Drow. All this way and her influence was still felt. A temple devoted to her and two others he did not recognize, their significance lost on him. 

“Who are they?” Dirthara questioned as he looked to the witch, the necronomicon closed on the altar between them. It was this that he’d followed and found, the dark creation that was not made for his eyes - though the temptation was there. “These statues who share Ayi’ig’s hall?”