#sinmalanore

Her vindictiveness told her that she should laugh in Madelon’s face. Her bitterness wished to spite her, to yell that she had dug her own grave and now must lie in it. Was she to be a font for her people, the very thing that the Nightwell was; existing only for others to take from her? Her lips curled in a half-formed snarl, but no harshness pushed past. Instead ... a weathered sigh did.

“Has the infantile views of the Kirin Tor mages finally sapped you dry, little galaxy?” she questioned pettily, wild mana dancing in the arcane hues of her eyes. “Blathering, bickering idiots, the lot of them, always arguing over the wrong questions. No, no, I think suffering their company is punishment enough. Especially when they attempt to disprove tried and true magical methods!”

For all her faux anger, her heart quivered so. She had never forgotten all the times they had spent together, pouring over the concept of astral magic. Back then, it was so new -- so unheard of. It brought the former Magistrix to sigh.

“... Truly, Madelon.” she murmured, for once sounding as old as she was. “What do you expect me to do? Storm the front gates of Dalaran, expose of my existence more than it already has been? Plunge the city into turmoil whilst a war wages around them? By your word, I will, but you must think of what you ask of me.”

      “That is a nice knife you have there.”

‘ Oh, dear little galaxy. Betwixt the stars and our comforts, I pray that you do not judge me for the choices already predetermined by Fate’s loom. ‘

‘ Wise beyond her years. An innovator in every sense of the word. Have I.. perchance, found my apprentice? ‘

‘ But I shan’t burden her with the mantle of Magistrix. To do so would be cruel. She is better with her books than with the burden of our people on her shoulders. ‘

‘ If not an apprentice... ? No. No, I shouldn’t get attached. But.. then again.. ‘

Her body freezes like a portrait from the past; gaze downcast. Things would be easier if she could simply fade away without an audience to witness her, but it seemed fate’s cruelty matched her own in time. Even now, the Magistrix refused to meet her gaze. Her back still firmly facing her.

“For as fluid as I am there still remains few things set in absolutes. In inevitability.” she gently spoke, as if the harshness of fact would ease the even colder truth. “I must do what is right for my people. I must make the arrangements to lower this barrier and face my opposition head on.”

Elisande stepped forward -- then halted. For a spell, she remained there, like that, before some internal battle that raged within was won; or lost, and she turned to face Madelon; her face showing each weariness of grief stitched onto her face.

“ -- Secure your tower and your research. Whatever happens, whatever I choose to do, please do not think differently of me.”

imo id put lorth as like a samurai fighter dual wielder cuz hes Fight but also the extra buffs in history/wis department seem to fit