Ripe for Ruin [Zombie] [M]

[quaggan]

 The elderly alchemist carefully peered at the murky fluid through the magically treated glass vessel she provided for the purpose of containing it. "Well, it looks like what I ordered..." She frowned, her emotions clearly echoing through. There was the salty taste of awareness, she knew even before placing the order that the only way to truly know if she wasn't cheated would be through a series of tests - tests she had no intention of conducting. It would take time, ingredients, and most important, use up some of her precious reagent. She really wanted the creepy mercenary out of her lab, but at least she wasn't willing to make costly mistakes because of it.

She ruffled through her pockets, then groaned. "Figures. Give me a moment to get your pay. Don't touch anything!" She carefully placed the vial on one of the shelves and charged off into the repository.

Perhaps it was to be expected. Mad scientist types usually kept dangerous things in their pockets, rather than convenient things such as money. It was probably time to wait.

Someone knocked. The door of the workshop opened slowly, revealing a suspicious-looking redheaded boy. "Hello?" he asked. "Is Arcanist Ivis here?"

[Zombie]

Though it had taken a few days to gather that particular component, it hadn't been an extremely taxing job: venture into the depths of the wilderness to locate an exceptionally rare plant that only bloomed once a year under extremely specfic conditions. Wait until nightfall and only when the full moon had risen, slice into the plant's thick, fleshy stem; collect the almost bloodlike sap into the glass vessel without wasting a drop of that liquid or accidentally spilling it on herself, then return at once. No explanation was given about the nature of the plant, nor requested: all that had been required had been a rough location, a description of said plant and the conditions for retrieving the fluid. Had the colorless individual not been beset by a small, stupid and rather drunk group of bandits on her way back to the alchemist's lab, she would have returned a day beforehand, but such things were to be anticipated and handled. Though she'd been roughed up a little by the bandits when she'd encountered them, none of the bruises and lacerations were life-threatening by any means; she'd be sore for a while, but it was nothing unusual, certainly not giving any consideration to.

Now, the eerily silent mercenary leaned -perhaps a bit too casually- against one of the laboratory walls, patiently waiting for the alchemist to finish examining the dark, murky fluid that had been retrieved. She nodded at the older lady's assessment of the fluid being what had been requested; however, her forehead furrowed and a soundless sigh escaped slightly-parted lips. She didn't think the other woman was aware of how clearly she was projecting her own doubts- it wasn't anything she was unaccustomed to, but that didn't make it any less irritating. If I'd wanted to cheat you, I would have demanded half the pay up-front and brough back horse piss! An eyebrow was arched, a vagely amused smirk softening her heavily-scarred countenance just slightly- the alchemist wanted her gone so badly that the mercenary could almost taste that desire; had she been an overly spiteful woman, she probably would have pretended to doze off right then and there.

As the lady groaned and began speaking, amusement alighted within the mercenary's eye, her arms unfolding, one sweeping out at the shelves as she shrugged and shook her head once; she had no idea what any of those components and tools were, nor did she particularly care. Her hand lifted, quickly and easily moving into a series of short motions that spelled out: "There's no need to rush, I'm not going anywhere yet." She still didn't know if the elderly alchemist understood what she was saying with those signs, but she assumed everything else was clear enough. Probably. Shifting a bit, she leaned her head back against the wall, wondering idly if she was going to receive the full price that they'd agreed upon; there was no such thing as being too cautious when it came to payment and if the lady tried to pull a fast one on her, she'd just have to take measures to receive the rest.

Perendi was jolted from her own thoughts and idle suspicions as someone knocked and the door slid open. Though the newcomer seemed  untrustworthy, most children she'd met before had seemed that way as well. Inclining her chin in greeting to the boy, she lifted one hand and held it palm-up, in the oft-understood gesture for "stop" or "wait."  This was followed up by a nod; an attempt to let the newcomer know that yes, the Arcanist was indeed present, but busy at the moment.

She wouldn't move from her rather lazy position against the wall, at least for now though. At the moment, despite the tangled collection of emotions that flitted and danced like an electrical current in the air that set the empathic warrior's nerves on edge, she would simply try to remain still and unfazed, even if her jaw was clenched a bit too tightly, her posture perhaps a little too rigid, for her to truly appear placid.

[quaggan]

 Val nodded, understanding her gestures. He sat on one of the stools, waiting. Most of the time, he'd spend time chatting, but he feared he didn't know sign language to have a conversation. The last thing he did was to draw someone into a discussion and then not even be able to understand their replies!

Arcanist Ivis returned, bearing a leather pouch. Her eyes immediately narrowed as she saw Val. "Get out of here!"

The prince raised his hands in a half-surrender, half-reflexive defence. "I have a message for you from-"

"Then wait outside!" she shouted. "I don't want your curse ruining my lab! Do you have any idea how rare and delicate my equipment is?!"

"I- alright" he accepted. He could wait for her outside. He got up and headed for the door. As he was walking past where Ivis put the fruit of Perendi's hard work, his hand brushed against the wooden shelf. It wasn't nearly enough to even shake it, but the enchanted vial still wobbled and began to fall.

The arcanist's eyes were fixed upon the unfortunate mineral. Her mind was awash with a strong sense of 'OH FUCK' as her lips chanted a spell to catch it - she couldn't make it there in time. Alarmed, Val turned around, only to watch the fragile vessel crash on the floor. The reactive fluid immediately began to sizzle on the floor, deafened by the sound of Ivis' heart breaking.

A cacophony of emotions washed over the arcanist. There was this sudden, deafening wave of anger heavily washed with hopelessness. Under the surface, there was an undertone of grudge against gods, fate, or whatever she believed in for putting her in this position. Her loss, after all, was not caused by personal actions, or even negligence, but factors outside her control. It was understandable, but almost subconscious, and easily subsumed by the other feelings. Under all of it was buried a hint of bitterness.

Val began to apologize as she stared hollowly at the crime scene. "I really should expand my vocabulary of curses for such occasions" she commented absent-mindedly. "I'll better go find something to clean it up. And you-" she jabbed a finger at the prince - "should stop entering important labs or... other places. You and your message can wait outside." She began to stalk back towards the repository she came from, presumably to find something to stop the fluid from changing the colour of the floor.

An afterthought blossomed in her mind as she walked back - an admission that while the end result was that she wouldn't be getting what she wanted, the mercenary still did her job and probably should be paid for her time. She tossed the pouch back to Perendi and walked on.

[Zombie]

Perendi flashed a brief smile in the newcomer's direction; relieved that the boy seemed to at know enough sign language to understand the gist of what she was trying to explain. While most of the time, such a long interval of waiting would usually be filled with conversation or playing a quick game of dice, she wasn't uncomfortable with the silence that fell in the meantime. After all, she was simply here to complete her job and be on her way once more. While she was quite curious about why the Arcanist seemed quite angry with the boy being in the laboratory, especially when he had explained he'd only just arrived to deliver a message and nothing more. It wasn't her business to uncover the reason for that.

Her curiosity was peaked at the mention of the student being cursed, however. The mercenary hadn't encountered anyone else so afflicted and it was only natural that she'd have to swallow a bit of inquisitiveness to keep from sticking her nose where it wasn't wanted or needed. However, her eye widened considerably when the child only seemed to very lightly touch the shelf that the fruit of her labor perched, only to cause the shelf to begin tumbling down.

There were not enough profanities to express the horror of watching that vial come tumbling down- and though the mercenary wasn't exactly slow-moving, neither her sudden lunge away from the wall nor Ivis's attempts to recapture the vessel were swift enough to keep the enchanted phial from shatering on the floor. For several long moments, Perendi could only stare dully at the sizzling fluid that splashed across the floor. However, almost immediately, that dumbfounded inactivity faded away as the silent mercenary flinched and rocked backward on her heels, stumbling backward a step as though she'd just taken an unanticipated and rather vicious, close-range punch to the stomach; breath coming as short, sharp pants that caught in her throat, the blow might as well have been physical.

Wave after wave of screaming emotion poured over the mercenary, permeating the fabric of her being. What started as the phantom fingers of mindless shock and disbelef quickly twisted into something more malignant: seething rage burning so hot, bright and viciously that it simply could not be contained, lest she'd spontaneously combust: before the hapless soldier of misfortune was even aware of what she was doing, she had pivoted on her heels, countenance screwed up into a snarl of all-consuming, blood-boiling rage as she lifted her right hand, balled it into a fist. That fist was thrown straight out, carrying with it all the strength and bitter anger that roiled within; a savage punch thrown at the closest wall- probably denting, maybe even cracking it. Visible tremors coursed along her spine as she opened her hand and pressed it against the damage she may have inflicted upon that wall; shoulders slumping in confusing, sudden and utterly bitter hopelessness as she shook her head, silently raging aginst the heavens; against the tides of fate and cursing existence itself. Breath catching in her throat, in that moment, she was a woman torn apart by a peculiar sense of loss that might as well have been personal, though it was not her own loss by any means.

When she trusted herself enough to be able to turn and face the other two again, her expression and stance was one that just dared either her employer or the would-be messenger to approach, or even speak to her: tension held her spine broomstick-straight, kept her head high and neck stiff as she reached over her shoulder and tore her warhammer free of its sheath, though she continued to shake like a leaf caught in a strong breeze; knees bending and legs parting as she assumed an offensive stance, merely nodding off-handedly as she heard someone nearby speak-- at the moment, her mind wasn't focused on who was in her immediate vicinity. Stepping forward, forehead creased by a deep frown, solitary eye narrowed into a malicious slit, the muscles in her shoulders and arms bunched as she swung that long-handled hammer at the nearest shelf, needing to destroy something, anything, that she could reach, lips peeling back in an almost animalistic sneer...

Only to jerk her arms downward swiftly, as the Arcanist turned to head back for the repository. The hammer's head thumped loudly, yet harmlessly against the floor as the emotional snare that the empath had become trapped within began to lift, freed from the invisible claws that had seized her mind and had not wanted to relent. Quickly, that hammer was sheathed once more as she raked a hand first through the rope-like serpentine coils of her hair, then down her face, drawing a deep breath as she stared ahead at nothing in particular. At last, the fog lifted from her eye as she would shrug and remain rooted to the spot for a moment; one hand lifting as an afterthought to catch the pouch of coin that the arcanist tossed her way. Not realizing that she still wasn't quite acting herself, she threw a curt nod of gratitude at Ivis for her payment and absentmindedly fastened the pouch to her belt, before stepping backward and slumping against the wall she'd more than likely damaged quite severely. "Fuck. Give me a minute and I'll be gone," Her gesticulation was sloppy and halting, almost incomprehensible. All she needed was a few minutes to catch her breath, regain her composure and she'd be on her way again, eye closing as the emotional onslaught she'd experienced continued to lessen, much like an unbearable weight slowly lifting.

[quaggan]

 Val headed outside. He felt really guilty about breaking the vial - the Arcanist's reaction made it clear that it was something rare and important. She would probably send the detailed bill to Astanill, as Wyrdwood researchers usually did. He never paid much attention to money and wealth - because of his position, there was no need for this. But ever since leaving the island, he kept worrying about it. His family wasn't like Di'Veeras, or even the High Lords and Ladies that ruled the provinces. How long until his cost became too high for them to pay?

He moved slowly, trying to avoid the hissing fluid but also not to touch the other shelves. The last thing he wanted was to let his curse do more horm. But even the greatest caution wasn't enough to keep from trouble - the floor has collapsed under him several times, and once at Wyrdwood, it grabbed at its ankle with a many-fingered hand and refused to let go.

He reached the door and carefully pulled it open, ready to let go at the slightest sign that his curse was affecting it. Fortunately, it looked like it was satisfied with just ruining Arcanist Ivis' work. As he was about to leave, his gaze fell on the mercenary. His eyes widened in surprise and worry at the sudden change in her demeanour. Punching the wall was understandable - she just saw the fruit of all her hard work ruined. But the warhammer was a surprise. Was she about to run up to him and attack?

She didn't. Instead, she almost hit a shelf. This wasn't behaviour he could justify in any reasonable way. This was clearly strange, and while she seemed to have enough control over herself not to go into a murderous rage, he couldn't just chalk it up to weirdness and let it go. Against the command of Arcanist Ivis, he turned around and hurried back inside. His boot began to sizzle as he accidentally stepped into the puddle, but he didn't care. "What's going on?" he asked, quietly in order not to unsettle her. "Can- How can I help?"

[Zombie]

Under normal circumstances, Perendi would have simply set about completing the job a second time; watching her work fall to ruin normally would have been akin to an unintended insult, but this time around, offering to complete the job again -and for free- was the furthest thing from her mind. The residual emotional storm that hung stagnantly upon the air was enough to be damn near suffocating; before too long, she would end up buried beneath the rubble of the aftermath. Even had the Arcanist offered to pay her again for her services -wealth was something she was attempting to amass for her own selfish purposes- she would have simply refused, if only to avoid the volatile older lady's presence for a few days. (She'd not refuse if she were to be called upon again; she simply needed a rest.) And she needed to be out of the laboratory before that particular aspect of her curse took hold yet again; she'd thought she'd almost mastered that damnable, blade-edged, explosive empathy- but had just been proven wrong for the second time.

She watched the young redhead prepare to leave, would have quickly followed suit; however, as their eyes met and she shook her head, gritting her teeth: concern and startlement adding their own bone-reaching tendrils to the invisible force that threatened to drop her to her knees if she remained in the laboratory for much longer. She could understand his reaction, though: it probably wasn't every day that a strange-looking mercenary nearly punched holes in a wall and almost lost control enough to try and demolish their employer's priceless possessions. It wouldn't have taken much longer for the dam to break and send the strange woman into the throes of bloodlust; though she retained enough resolve to abstain from anything of the sort- for now.

When he turned to approach her again, she offered an apologetic smile and shrugged at his quiet concern and offer of assistance. The latter was something she was unaccustomed to; resulting in a moment's hesitation. She said you were cursed too, so what could it hurt? That thought came moments before she'd breathe a silent sigh, smirking as she began to sign again: "It's nothing to worry about. It's just... part of what I have to deal with; I channel what everyone else feels," It was the easiest way she could explain what had happened, "That was what the poor woman's bearing up under right now," She thought she could explain that much- and as he seemed bright enough, she was sure that he'd put it together without much difficulty.

That smile became a bit warmer as she shook her head again, reaching out to briefly clasp his shoulder in a show of gratitude while her other hand continued to sign: "There's nothing that can be done. I need to leave this room though, before the residue makes me do something else." With that, she would head toward the door rather quickly and step into the hallway beyond. Once there, she'd simply stand near the door, slowly beginning to relax as the emotional weight started to lift considerably. Even with a slight barrier between herself and the lab, there was a considerable difference between the almost mindlessly destructive creature and the somewhat calmer warrior that seemed to be trying to decide what hall to venture down.

[quaggan]

 Val was awash with sympathy at her situation. Living in Wyrdwood made him encounter a lot of interesting people, including empaths like her. Most of his discussions with him contained similar complaints, and the first thing the school taught them was how to turn off their power or dampen the effect it had on them. Being an untrained empath was awful, having to feel every single unpleasant emotion around her - but he shouldn't fixate on how bad she had it, since she would feel that too.

So instead he just smiled and focused on feeling as neutral as he could. He would have extended a hand, but physical contact seemed to set off his curse, so it was better not to touch anyone. "Here, come with me - I can show you the way to a less emotionally charged place." He knew his way around Wyrdwood well enough to help, perhaps.

[Zombie]

It was strange, to say the least, to detect sympathy radiating from someone else-- and to have that sympathy directed at her; while not overwhelming, it was enough to cause her to cock her head in confusion. It was true that she'd never received training to control the double-edged sword that was the bane of most empaths; when she was in her element, it was something that she fed off of, channeled her opponents' emotions to kindle her own rage and bloodlust that much more. But there was a difference between simply letting go of all of one's inhibitations on the battlefield and almost destroying your employer's belongings, after all. To say that Val's offer to lead her somewhere less emotionally charged was a relief would have been an understatement.

"Lead the way," She signed quickly; an arched eyebrow and cocked head predecessors to a question that was signed quickly, before she had the chance to change her mind: "She said you were cursed, too?" Curiosity could have easily been her downfall, especially when she did her best not to get involved in other peoples' affairs. For the most part, that usually involved her subordinates as well- but knowing that someone else was afflicted was enough to make her want to know more. Even if there was nothing that the mercenary could do to help her new companion, at least it was common ground, in a way. Which was a start, if nothing else.

Usually a woman of few "words" unless she had to give a rousing "speech" or deliver punishment to her own subordinates, she hoped the kid didn't think she was rude by not quite knowing what to "discuss." Though he was probably a student here, she knew that she'd never stepped foot in such an establishment before; so asking about his studies would have just been weird. Sure, she could have offered to teach the kid a few fighting techniques when they got to wherever they were going, but she wasn't sure if that would have been a great idea: some people didn't like the idea of getting their asses handed to them in close-quarters combat as a way to thank them for their assistance, after all. And given how young he looked, it probably wouldn't have been a good idea to offer a round of something cheap and potent at the nearest tavern, either. So, she settled instead for: "You been here long?"

[quaggan]

 Val decided to take the woman to Willander Memorial Lecture Hall. The hall monitor there was a very dedicated student nicknamed Venta. She owed it to a very slutty ancestor who once slept with an air elemental, leaving all their descendants with lighter weight and an affinity for air. Venta used her powers to hear any sound louder than the soft rustle of book pages being turned, and expel the offender from her sovereign kingdom. It was a place of supreme silence, and one he considered safe for an untrained empath to gather her bearings. While no study hall was free from occasional frustration that came with the process of learning, Venta would kick out any poor sods who let out just a grunt or a sigh. Because of it, it should be relatively free of bad emotions.

Every now and then, he glanced at her - just to check if she's trying to tell him something, not to make sure that she's following him or something equally creepy. Granted, the woman looked comfortable enough with her muteness that she would probably just tap him on the arm to get his attention of she wanted to communicate, but he far preferred not to put her in such a situation to begin with.

His caution was rewarded when he saw her signing something to him. He blinked, immediately doubting if he saw what he thought he saw or was he misreading this finger shape. 'Too'? He quickly quashed his curiosity - if she wanted to tell him more, he would. He should probably get around to answering it.

"I- yes. That's what I've been sent here for. My family hoped that my curse can be researched in detail in Wyrdwood, and maybe even the scholars here can find out its origin." And a cure, but it was better not to hold out hopes for that. This way, if it never happened, he wouldn't be disappointed, and if the staff managed to create a miracle, he'd be pleasantly surprised.

"I came here a few weeks ago. I spent most of the time trying to find my way around the castle and memorize where the important places were." And of course, whenever he managed to figure out where to go and what route was least likely to set his curse off, either a teleportation experiment moved the entire classroom, the cutthroat academia politics forced the teacher to pick another place to hold their class or some other accident rendered it unusable. While usually such circumstances would make Val suspect his curse's involvement, he was in Wyrdwood long enough to just accept those problems as a part of life here.

[Zombie]

Perendi was visibly relieved when she was taken to the lecture hall; while she would probably have questioned the hall monitor's treating the hall like her own personal kingdom, but she knew little enough of Venta or the nature of academies to truly understand how they worked. She figured it was in her best interest and kept her from appearing to be too much of a bumpkin while in the presence of true academics and their students. (She wasn't illiterate or unlearned, but wasn't even a tenth as cultured as her present company, his colleagues and instructors- plus, appearances probably had to be maintained if she wanted to be employed by the academy again, especially considering how nicely the staff seemed to pay.) The near-silence was a very welcome change of pace;  while there wasa bit of frustration here, it wasn't nearly strong enough to bother her in any way. As her tension continued to ease, so too did her footsteps grow lighter until, save for the jingle of coin pouches and weaponry, the creak of leather armor, her movements were almost silent.

She smirked every once in a while, or made a reassuring gesture, when Val kept glancing back at her; she'd initially thought he was wanting to make sure she was following, but that thought was dropped before too long. It didn't cross her mind to suspect him of something nefarious, stupid, or even creepy; the opportunity to launch a misguided attack -she carried her weapons openly; unless her current companion's were concealed, he carried none-, try to rob her (though why someone who could afford to attend an academy such as Wyrmwood might have attempted robbery just seemed a stupid thought to entertain) or something worse had presented itself several times and had not been acted upon. While she might not have been willing to offer trust immediately, she was actually quite at ease; not much different than if she'd been gambling or spending a night drinking with her subordinates.

"Well, shit," She signed back with a curious cant of her head, "I never knew anyone would be curious enough to research them," It was the truth, she'd always figured that the cursed had to deal with their afflictions in whatever way they could, not that there was a research department trying to figure them out. Her expression turned to one of incredulousness when he mentioned the scholars possibly being able to discern its origin, "Do things like the origin really matter very much?" While she knew exactly where her curse had come from, she didn't think she'd have bothered to try and figure out its source, if she hadn't been aware. Had she been aware of his intention to try and find a cure, she probably would have either brushed that thought off, or laughed; Perendi had no idea that anyone could find a way to cure their curses, since they weren't a wound that could be patched up or illness that could be healed through herbs or sorcery. She might have believed in a wide variety of things -some even foolish- but Perendi didn't put stock in miracles. "Yeah," She would sign as an afterthought and shrug, "I did say 'too.' I've got one as well, but it's nothing to worry about." That information was offered more as a way to try and put her companion a little more at ease than anything else.

"It's got to be a pain in the ass, trying to figure out where everything is. Damn place is big enough to be a stronghold," There was an appreciative gleam in her eye as she signed that statement. While she had no way of knowing the difficulties Val had undergone just trying to figure out where the important classes and other rooms might have been, she would have been happy with a building half as large to use as her base of operations and set her own plans into motion. She could only imagine how many people it would be able to house; how many weapons rooms, training halls and storage rooms it could hold, let alone a truly impressive warroom, if it had been given such a purpose instead of having been used as an institute of higher learning.

[quaggan]

 When they sat down in the lecture hall, Val took out one of his notebooks, a quill and a well-sealed inkwell to write back to her. Talking was strictly prohibited in Willander Memorial, in order not to disturb the people who studied. He wasn't confident enough in his abilities to sign back, so that seemed to be the best solution. Venta didn't like the sound of quills scraping against paper and parchment, but the students had the right to take notes, so she couldn't do anything about it.

-Wyrdwood is a research facility as much as a school- he began. -My parents' court mage sent me here because she knew that even if the scholars here didn't know how to handle my curse, they were equipped to find out. And I think she was right - most of them seem very interested in researching it.- Some of them even considered him a test subject valuable enough to cover some of the expenses his curse incurred. He was glad - at least this way, he wouldn't be a burden on his family and the kingdom.

-Most of the scholars are just interested in expanding their knowledge in their chosen field. Apparently my curse isn't something any of them have heard about, which makes me an interesting case to research. And as for origin - well, no one knows where my curse comes from, so it's another unknown for them to research. I think it is important - if I was cursed because someone had a grudge against my family, they're all in danger as well. And if I came in contact with a cursed item, it would be good to identify it so that no one else is cursed.-

Venta passed by. She nodded with approval at Perendi's sign language. Val had a terrible suspicion that she might push for classes for anyone using the hall. Fortunately, either she didn't notice that the writing on the parchment wasn't study material - or she didn't care, as long as they were quiet about it.

Val shook some ink drops off the quill as he waited for her to sign back. He had a few questions to ask her as well, but he would focus on answering hers first. She didn't appear to be in a hurry, after all, and neither was he. His morning class was far over, and the afternoon class was moved for tomorrow, since the teacher got transformed into a statue and they needed to wait for the spell to wear off.

[Zombie]

Perendi nodded when they sat in the lecture hall; it made sense for her companion to switch to quill and paper- even a sneeze would probably have seemed impossibly loud in the silence that shrouded the hall. Besides, if they discussed anything that could have been considered confidential, it would have made more sense for him to write to her, rather than say something that might have been used as blackmail material by any of the other students. She had no way of knowing if they'd attempt to use sensitive information for their own gain against one of their own, but in her line of work, it would have been expected- so as far as she was concerned, precautions made perfect sense.

"Ahh, that's a good way to cover their research, then! I'd thought they were just a school for aspiring mages," She began signing after reading what he'd written and slid across the table to her. So, it seemed as though he was probably more notable than just the noble's son that she'd pinned him as being. That was definitely interesting information- and if he was exceptionally high-ranking, perhaps she'd need to remember that; not that she gave a damn about any kingdom in particular, but because it never hurt to have associates in high places. "Perhaps your family's court mage made the right choice- I can't say for certain either way. If it's a cursed object, wouldn't you still need to be in contact with it?" There was open curiosity in her expression as she signed that question. As far as she'd ever been aware, one had to maintain contact with a cursed object for it to remain in effect- but admittedly, she was far from an expert on curses and was not versed in the mechanics of how most of them worked.

"Why would anyone curse you just to get even with your family?" That curiosity only continued to grow. Perendi understood that people could become cursed for any number of reasons, but she'd never heard of it used as a tactic against someone's family- that didn't make much sense to her. She nodded in polite greeting as Venta passed by, yet was relieved that the girl didn't seem too curious or concerned about what the pair was engaged in.

Perendi leaned back a bit in her seat after she'd finished signing. She wasn't sure if he intended to answer her rapidfire questions, but she certainly wasn't in a hurry. Her entourage knew that she'd taken a privately-assigned mission and knew that she'd be returning after dusk; besides, if they needed her, her mage knew a communications spell that would have put them in contact. Her subordinates were probably enjoying their time away from her, either drinking and gambling themselves into a stupor at one of the local alehouses, indulging in whores and narcotic herbs, or just lazing about. A day or so without work gave them a much-needed break and when such an opportunity was presented, they took advantage of it in every way they possibly could.

[quaggan]

 -Well, this is a school for mages. And a place of research and learning. I'm probably not the best person to tell you about it - I've only been here for a few weeks- he admitted, pulling out another piece of paper to write on. He was certain that there was so much to Wyrdwood that he didn't know. -I attend some classes, of course, but I cannot be compared to the talent most students here have.-

He was surprised at the question about the cursed object. -They do?- he asked, before quickly striking it through. Clearly, she must have had interacted with some before, and doubting her experience would be arrogant. -I think the scholars who put forth the cursed object hypothesis meant the kind of an object that curses whoever touches it, and either getting rid of or outright destroying it wouldn't work. One of my classmates is actually working on such a thing as one of her projects.-

He hesitated a bit before writing up an answer to the final question. -It's another theory put forward by the scholars here. Most of the staff and students at Wyrdwood are nobility, so they're quite used to scheming and intrigue. Things like cursing someone as a revenge for something their family did, or even laying a curse upon an entire bloodline, apparently happen here - especially considering the natural aptitude for magic Serenians have. I suppose I am lucky to be sent here - this really is the best place to find out why and how I was cursed.-

[Zombie]

"It's kind of interesting that they conduct research in the same facility they teach you guys," She began, a somewhat teasing smirk softening her features as she continued that train of thought, her signing slower and far less frantic than it had been earlier. Probably far easier to understand and follow, as well. "And I'm probably not the best person to be here at all- I don't know much about schools or research." It was, perhaps, an admittal and acceptance that neither were very adept at explaining things concerning the academy, given both of their circumstances for being there. Well, that and the fact that what education she had was far from formal. "Everyone sells themselves short. Do you have an area of study you're proud of?" Perendi would be damned if it didn't seem to her like she was suddenly trying to interview him for a position in her entourage. She didn't really know all that much about magic since she was perfectly inept, let alone its different disciplines, but that didn't stop her from wanting to know a bit more.

That smirk became a crooked smile and shrug at the question he struck out. She hadn't personally handled a cursed object before, but Jurre, a rather greedy rogue in her company, had come into possession of a cursed amulet he'd lifted off a dead sorceress's corpse a few months back. It had been simply taken as the spoils of battle at the end of a long infiltration job and the hapless fool had assumed the amulet had been the source of the sorceress's power- it had never crossed the ass's mind that the amulet had been ensorcelled so that if anyone but his adversary had worn it, they would have been cursed. And well, given that it had been a sapphire set in gold, Jurre had of course worn it. For two months, the idiot had only been able to speak in rhyme, quite happily started paying his coworkers' tabs at a few different taverns, gave alms to the poor when he'd ventured into cities and had fainted at the sight of all blood. Though it had been extremely entertaining at first, a few of the Hounds had ended up "curing" Jurre's affliction when they found the sod sobbing and whining while emptying his gold pouch into a chalatan priest's hands. It had been quite an experience, convincing Jurre to finally have the amulet appraised- and to sell it. They never did find out what happened to it in the long run.

"Ahh, I haven't heard of that kind of cursed object very often. Must be difficult, isn't it?" Indeed, she'd only heard of such an item maybe once or twice; either she didn't associate with the right circles often enough, or it took a lot out of a mage to create such a curse. Glancing around to make sure that none of the other students were currently looking their way and Venta wasn't circling their table again, she shifted positions and quickly unhooked her liquor skin from her belt; gulping a few swallows of the cheap, potent rotgut and attaching it yet again. She didn't know what the academy's policy on things like booze was- and didn't exactly want to get caught and asked to leave just yet.

Perendi arched an eyebrow and seemed just as hesitant to answer her companion as he had been to explain that nearly all the students were of nobility. "Damned nobles always have to make things more complicated than they need to be; what with that nonsense intrigue and petty scheming shit. They'll probably never realize how much easier it is, just to punch a bastard in the face, or gut him and be done with it." A silent shrug punctuated that signed statement, though a bit of amusement still lightened her countenance. "Even if Serenians are naturally magically inclined, I don't understand why they don't just... I don't know, launch a lightning bolt up someone's ass or summon a spirit to deal with whoever pissed them off. It'd make more sense than going after their whole damn bloodline, wouldn't it?" It might not have been the best idea to let her thoughts on nobles' scheming be known, but she didn't think it would hurt anything. It wasn't exactly like she was condemning their caste, after all, just expressing a lack of understanding about how they operated. A nod would be offered at his statement, followed by:

"I suppose you are lucky to be here, same as the rest of them. I don't imagine any of you would have an easy time trying to learn about your curses, do some research and learn, while having to figure everything else out as well. And you know, if you're in a place where you can take advantage of the resources offered to you, then I'd say do it." Perendi wouldn't presume she knew what tuition or boarding might have cost, but she could understand how difficult it might have been if the students didn't have a centralized, safe place where they could learn and experiment. With that, she would tilt her chair back a bit and wait to see what he had to say; and of course, she was willing to answer anything that might have been thrown her way, as well.

[quaggan]

 Val smiled at her signs. -I like this idea- he wrote, his pen moving quickly on the paper. -A lot students here are rather unique - some are magical by themselves, like Venta, some have strange abilities that most teachers aren't familiar with. This is where the research part comes in. Even if no one knows exactly how to best handle and employ their skills, everyone wants to learn and has different ideas to try out. It's truly an amazing place.-

He meant it. Even if the research into his curse didn't help - though he doubted that would happen, considering the sheer amount of talent and effort here at Wyrdwood - he would still consider his journey here to be worth it. He learned so much in those few weeks, and it was just the beginning.

-Well, I didn't get to try a lot of magic yet- he admitted, tapping his finger against the paper in a sudden rush of awkwardness. -There is a lot of theory and lectures I attend - and I spend more time being studied than studying. I learned a few basic spells, but I don't cast them too often - my curse has a way of making whatever I try go horribly wrong. If I try to use magic to ignite a candle, for example, it goes out of control and sets the surroundings on fire. Most of the time, I cast spells when the researchers want to test how my curse impacts magic. It's for the best - they are usually prepared and can counter the inevitable disaster."

He didn't answer the inquiry into the nature of noble intrigue and inefficiency of curses immediately. He wasn't even insulted, he just wanted to give this matter more thought and consideration. -Maybe it's about making an example- he suggested, finishing each letter carefully. -A fireball in the face is quickly forgotten, but a curse upon the entire bloodline is remembered. That, and murder is still a crime, so I suppose outright assassination or something easy to trace is more risky than a curse. Though I can't claim to be an expert on the matter. My homeland is a rather small place, nothing like Serendipity.-

He hesitated at her comment, his question slowly battling his way to the forefront of his mind. It looked like the peace in the study hall had a good effect on her, so their purpose was achieved. It was as good time as any to ask - especially since while he had nothing else to do today, he didn't know if she also shared this freedom. He wrote very carefully, as if he was wary of the letters fleeing the parchment or transforming into something he didn't want to say, as he knew that what he was about to ask was rather sensitive. -If you don't mind me asking, do you have any plans about how to get rid of your curse?-

[Zombie]

"It does sound like a pretty damn neat idea," She admitted after reading his note. A place where even the most unique magical talents could cooinside with others who possibly were just as strange made the academy sound like a sanctuary for novice (and not-so-novice) sorcerors; it was something that she could understand them needing and being proud of. "It surprises me though, that people with so many different arcane talents- and some being magical creatures manage to get along. Especially with unfamiliarity thrown in." Perendi fully meant what she had communicated with those signs, her expression open and a bit impressed. If not only magic-users, but noble magic-users were able to learn and research together without there being too many students out for one anothers' blood, the instructors had managed to pull off a damned miracle. And if the research that was being conducted could do something about his curse, she could see that opening other doors in the realms of development and deterrence.

She would smirk at his seemingly sudden awkwardness or shyness, though as she read what he'd written, her smirk would become something of a sly smile. If his curse had the ability to turn a simple act like lighting a candle into a fire, then perhaps that fire could be coaxed into an explosion... now that she could see him being able to turn around and put to great use. That was, as long as those results could be replicated every time he tried to magically light candles or torches. But she'd probably broach that subject soon enough. "You do know that disasters can be extremely useful at times. But if things don't go the way you want them, I suppose it makes sense for you to be studied instead of really being given the chance to play around with magic. Nothing to be worried about; if they manage to find a cure, you might end up amazing them with feats of sorcery." Of course, she had no idea how strong his magical aptitude was and didn't know if she was basically feeding the poor kid lies, but she couldn't say she wasn't sympathetic to his plight. Quite the opposite, actually. "Have there been any real developments toward removing it?"

She hadn't meant to insult with her inquiries about noble intrigue; far from it, actually. It was something interesting to consider, even if all they might have been doing about the matter was theorizing and spitting conjecture. "It might be forgotten fairly quickly, but it would probably cause a scandal- and be an easy way to eliminate a target," She shrugged before continuing to answer, "You're right about a cursed bloodline being memorable of course, as well as probably being very visible- but murder and assassinaton are easy to blame on someone else. I'm not an assassin either though, but I've known a few nobles here and there who wouldn't have blinked at the thought of cutting someone's throat. I do see both sides, though... shit, it's kind of hard to get to the bottom of why it would have taken place to begin with-- I'm starting to see why your parents sent you here!" There was nothing malicious or condescending about that tangent; if nobles these days were more willing to resort to tactics shadier than a simple murder or assassination, she figured there might have been the chance he was there for protection as well as to be researched.

The overall serenity of the study hall had relaxed her considerably; even the dull headache she'd began to develop had faded away to almost nothing. An eyebrow would be arched aht his visible hesitation; she was used to dealing with decisive and sometimes quite abrasive people and as such, had difficulty comprehending why anyone would hesitate to speak what was on their mind. She didn't know if he'd have classes to attend later or not, but she had nothing pressing to deal with until at least nightfall. Her men knew she'd taken on yet another solitary job -they were used to her preferring to work alone- and knew that if anything happened, either they could send someone to scour Serendipity until they found her, or she'd try to find a runner to send back to where they were currently stationed. She would heave a long, silent sigh as she peered down at his written question, trying to come up with a way to phrase what she knew, in a manner that might make sense. She wasn't offended by such a question and given how long ago she'd been cursed, she was more or less resigned to it than anything else. Finally she'd settle on: "That's an interesting question. I know how I was cursed- and I worked for the guy who did it, too; damned bastard's probably long-dead by now, anyway. I want to find a way to remove it, it's a pain in the ass, the reason I don't talk and end up like I was back there. I've had no luck in finding anyone that might know how to break it, I've had it for twelve years."

[quaggan]

 Val was about to write up an answer to the question about magic when he noticed that Perendi was still signing to him. He turned his attention completely towards her, especially excited since she was responding to his awkward inquiry into his curse. And since she wasn't waving angrily at him, it should be safe to assume that she wasn't offended, and was willing to have a conversation about it.

-How is your research into how to remove it proceeding?- he wrote quickly, excitement showing through. He did his best to rein in his emotions - he remembered that he was talking with an empath, and he should be mindful not to blast her with her feelings. -I'm probably soun- he quickly crossed it through, changing it to better suit their method of communication. -appearing like I'm trying to recruit a new specimen for the scholars here to study. But if you don't know where to go next, I think this is a good place to get some questions answered.-

He was running out of space on paper. Most of the time, he'd turn it over, but he didn't know if she finished reading - and the ink dried slowly, so it would probably smudge and be ruined. He took a new one out to continue his offer. -Since you know the nature and reason for your curse, I imagine the scholars here would be able to help you faster than me.-

[Zombie]

Perendi seemed quite at ease while she waited for Val to answer the question about magic; wondering if it had been either too difficult an inquiry to answer immediately, or if somehow she'd managed to offend him. However, when his attention was focused completely on her signing, she had to bite her inner cheek to keep from laughing at that focus. Her curse was more of a nagging irritation than something she was sensitive about and was willing to discuss it with him, since he shared a similar unfortunate affliction; though far more interesting than her own. However, she found herself shaking her head, lips parting as she gave a bark of silent laughter that probably sounded more like a series of short, breathy gasps than anything else. Laughing at his written inquiry was probably going to make her seem either very stupid or downright weird, but she couldn't help it- her life usually didn't permit much time to devote to researching her curse. When she was finally able to get that laughter under control again, she shook her head apologeticaly and waved a hand to indicate that she wasn't offended in any way, nor had she meant to piss him off or anything of the sort.

"I don't usually have the time to research it," She signed as way of explanation, "And the last time I tried, it ended poorly. I met with Ottilia and Alpheos of La'marri a while back; Ottilia told me I was definitely cursed, Alpheos said I should leave their house and enjoy my life, as far away from them as possible. My own mage doesn't specialize in curses, she's an enchanter who also translates what I say for people who don't understand sign-language." Her hands flashed those signs far more quickly than she intended to; she was beginning to pick up on some of his excitement and in turn, was becoming more enthusiastic than normal. Not to a degree that would impact communications, but giddy, in a strange way.

"Don't worry about it; I was thinking that if you could actually try your candle-lighting magic or other little things like that, if you consistently set fires and start explosions, I was going to try and recruit you myself- I'm the leader of a small mercenary contingent and I'm working on starting something much larger. We could definitely use someone who can start more fires and explosions, but I don't think your family would approve." Of course, as she had no idea who his family was, she couldn't say if they'd cut off what -if any- inheritence he might have had if he took her up on her half-assed offer. The shit-eating grin she sported would have clearly illustrated: "and now, we're even."

Finished reading what he'd written, she would motion that he could continue whenever he wanted to continue, signing: "Do you know how much the scholars would charge? It'd be damn nice to be able to talk again, not to mention having repeat clients and getting new recruits to stick around for more than a few hours or days." Given how long they'd already been having their discussion, he might have been able to detect the more repugnant aspect of her curse; the unnatural repellent that normally pissed people off and turned them away in some of the strangest and most interesting ways.

[quaggan]

 Venta's head whipped around lightning-quick, her short hair frizzing through the air like ill-tempered clouds. She advanced on laughing Perendi and her accomplice with frightening speed and even more frightening expression. Val barely opened his mouth to apologize, forgetting the silence rule, as she enveloped them both in a magical whirlwind. The air she commanded muffled any sounds, in order not to bother other students, and speedily ejected them from her 'kingdom'.

Val winced as he landed on the ground. He would probably have some new bruises from all that. It wasn't like Venta was trying to hurt them - as a matter of fact, she probably put in extra effort to give them a safe landing, she didn't want to get in trouble with the staff for injuring people. His curse just had a way of making a mountain out of every molehill and an injury out of every impact.

He picked himself up from the ground and extended a hand to Perendi. It was mostly out of politeness - even without the curse weakening his body, he probably couldn't help a well-armoured warrior up anyway. "I'm sorry about that. Venta takes her duties rather... seriously. Are you well?"

[Zombie]

She'd never encountered anyone that would have become so downright angry at a sound that was less than the noise made by a soft, lazy breeze- but then again, there was a first time for everything and when Venta whirled on them with reflexes she wouldn't have thought possible- and though she scowled right back at the girl, black eye cold and glittering as she instinctively reached for her war-hammer, she wasn't prepared to be engulfed in a sorcerous whirlwind. Shaking her head as the pair were forceably removed from the study hall, she hit the floor on her knees. Under any other circumstances, she would have come back up swinging, but throwing a blow in the academy probably would have ended up getting her banned for life- if not arrested for assault; besides, the object of that irritation and surprise was nowhere to be found. She's not bad! Was the afterthought.

And it didn't seem like the monitor had intended to harm them anyway; through her armor, Perendi had barely even felt the impact. It probably didn't help matters that her very presence would likely have helped get them removed from the hall one way or the other, anyhow. It was a strange thought, but it almost seemed as though certain aspects of both their curses seemed quite complimentary: Val's ability to make any situation more dire and her own, which caused people to get irrationally angry and disgusted with her presence. All kinds of useful shit that could help with, She thought idly.

Though she climbed back to her feet with ease, she accepted Val's hand out of recognizing that courtesy; had she truly needed assistance, she probably would have only succeeded in yanking him down atop her- which would have been amusing in its own rights, but wouldn't have done anything for either of them. She would shake her head and sign, "It was probably my fault, so it's okay. I'm fine; don't even have a new scratch." Well, her leather armor might have been just the slightest bit more scuffed, but if it was, it was quite difficult to tell and she just didn't give a damn about things like that in the first place. "What about you, though?" A bit of concern creased her face; given what little she'd seen and heard about his curse so far, it wasn't difficult for her to imagine him breaking an ankle or worse, even though she'd been barely phased.