1228.4 The Mistress Always Spanks Twice

"Hello. Loys says simply. He looks ill. Dark circles under his eyes, as if he hasn't slept well, or is ill. Tranquillina has heard stories that opening the Arts can be painful for older apprentices, especially if the magus is working at preserving something, some supernatural quality or capability. "She said you'd be around today or the next day." He calls out to Cumhachd, "She's here. Are you receiving visitors?"
"Yes, Loys, send her in, and then go rest. We're finished for today."
After Loys escorts her in, he goes into a room and lies on a sleeping pallet and almost as soon as he's down he begins snoring gently.
"It's been difficult for him. It's so much worse to do when they are older. Aurelius told me Ra'am almost died." She says simply, as if that's all she's going to explain about Loys. "What can I do for you, dear? Are you ready to test your fixed connection?"

((To be clear, I believe Cumhachd's front room is outside her sanctum mark - Tranquillina certainly is not entering her sanctum proper.))

"It can be difficult to answer questions that contain assumptions," Tranquillina offers by way of (non-)response. She looks conspicuously around the room instead of at Cumhachd; but instead of trying to convey a sense of contempt, she is actually nervous about making herself more vulnerable. "No, I came to speak with you. About what, I am not really sure, but it seems clear that you have something to communicate to me, and do not plan on leaving instead."

Tranquillina takes another deep breath (this one not an act at all) and faces her tormentor. "I thought a change of scenery might do us some good. So I have instructed our staff not to provide you with any midday meal today." She pauses just long enough to see if she got a rise out of Cumhachd, before continuing. "You remember, I suppose, that one of the first spells I ever saw you cast was Woodland Prowler. For a girl new to magic, it made quite an impression. Eventually, once I ... began enchanting, I recreated the spell for myself." She fingers her wolfskin cloak overtly. "I thought we would go on a hunt for lunch today. As a, hmmm," she almost says 'truce' but changes her mind, "as a distraction." All the muscles in her arms and abdomen are tensed, as if she is expecting a physical blow.

((ooooh, wowzers))

Indeed, Loys is nowhere to be seen inside the laboratory; still, the large room is spotless, making her comfortable walking around in bare feet. Perhaps it is Fiona's familiarity with Tranquillina, or perhaps simply her long experience with Hermetic magic, but the giantess comprehends at a glance the organization of the lab: across the room, all of the Corpus specimens; two furnaces (that one there, not built into the wall, obviously enchanted); supreme organization all around, showing that its patient owner has spent countless weeks (even more than Fiona herself has) arranging its contents for both accessibility and astrological resonance. Here in the near corner, a full human corpse stands up on a pedestal - macabre, to be sure, but with the relevant tools and workspace all available nearby, it is obviously a pivotal location for Tranquillina's work, much like her own still. And, come to think of it, Fiona sees no still at all herein, no way to squeeze vis from the aura.

Tranquillina is standing at a workbench, a cloth laid open upon it and two crumbling pieces of pointed rock placed barely within arm's reach. "Welcome, sister," she says with a brief smile, keeping her eyes on her work. "It's nice of you to come." Holding her breath, she rubs one of the rock pieces over the cloth in parallel rows, as if painting a tiny fence; assuming that she has repeated this action many times already, it's clear that she is fixing an Arcane Connection of some sort. Her arms and their pallor lean heavily on the workbench, and she is sweating noticeably.

Cumhachd ponders for a moment, and then smiles. And says simply, "No." She lets it sink in for a bit. "You indicate you wished to speak, and then your first action after that is to have us change forms and go on a hunt as wolves. We cannot talk when we are wolves, so you must hope for a bonding experience. I question your commitment, since you never had any desire to bond with me before. No, instead, I think it's time to end the game you started over 40 years ago. It is the game you have played for too long. I have demonstrated to you I can play it better. You should realize by now, you've started a game you cannot win and stop playing."

"Oh, Cumhachd," Tranquillina reproaches, shaking her head with an unpleasant chuckle as she looks away. "You certainly are not used to giving me any credit, are you." She steps back to give herself some room, then drops to the floor and rolls three times to her left, her talisman changing her into a wolf. She then casts Stories of the Beast upon herself to restore her ability to speak. ((Sta -3 + Mu 12 + An 8 + no penalties for words/gestures, due to Mastery = automatic.)) "I always assumed that you had this ability yourself," wolf-Tranquillina says. "but fear not - my spell can affect others as well as myself."

"If you chase two rabbits, you will lose them both." She smiles and continues, "You cannot hunt and talk at the same time. If one hunts, one must concentrate on the hunt. If one talks, one must focus on the conversation. So, again, I return to my position, I question your commitment, to either endeavor. I'm done playing your games, because you are no good at them. You assume that I am unable to make speech while I am in the form of an animal, but you confuse a lack of ability with a lack of desire."

Cumhachd sighs and seems genuinely weary, "It is always your manner to mistake my words for the meaning they convey. Eskil, you did this when you were my apprentice. You did this when you were Tria's apprentice, and you did this with Maximanius's apprentice. You always thought you knew best. But you constantly question the lesson. Your ability to grasp the underlying concepts of magic is unquestioned. Your ability to understand the world as it goes on around you is suspect. You've no doubt heard of the gifts I've given your sodales here at Mons Electi. Carefully selected gifts, highly personalized. And you presume I'm here only because of you. The the gifts I've given are to demonstrate how nice I can be, and drive a wedge between you and your sodales. But consider carefully, that you are here," Cumhachd's voice grows loud and it shakes the villa, "BECAUSE OF ME."

"Careful, Cumhachd." A disembodied voice sounds.
Cumhcahd responds, in the general direction of the voice. "Shut up, you old fool." Her anger is readily apparent, and the silence hangs in the room punctuated only by Loys' snoring. "I know you know about Loys, and I know you have an arcane connection, fixed to me of mine own spittle. Use it against me and strike me down. But you won't. You don't have the guts. And what's more, and despite your knowledge, you don't have the skill, and I know.

All trace of cordiality, of desire to meet Cumhachd halfway, is now eradicated from Tranquillina's mind. "Bravo, Cumhachd - quite a stirring speech, as usual. Everything I do is foolish, everything you say is wise." She switches to Gaelic, in which her speech can come more quickly and with more emotional bite. "It's so easy to proclaim that you know all my reasons for doing the things I do, and declare them either failures or consequences of your brilliant maneuvering. But you are the one who is bereft of the slightest clue when it comes to understanding other people."

"It's such a pleasure to hear you trot out the old, tired lapine cliches. Your shallow characterization of hunting and conversing - what Tytalus would shrink from walking and talking at the same time? - you have no ... this was an overture, lady," she snarls, jabbing a forepaw at herself (she elects to stay in wolf form, despite not really wanting to, to spite Cumhachd). "But nooo, you have your own little plan, and nothing variable from outside yourself can dare intrude. I attempted - against all better judgment - to convince myself to try to communicate with you today. But you are uninterested in communication: all you crave is control. You speak of 'focus', but you mean only obedience."

"Well, guess what, cara," Tranquillina growls sarcastically, "I am not your apprentice any more. I am not your plaything, I am not your servant. You can say all you want about my inability to frame the world exactly as you do, you can ply your cheap manipulation all you want, you can cling to your monotonous characterization as a 'game' of any notion conceived independently of your precious script. These are your failings, not mine!" The word 'not' is understandable only from context, as it is essentially an animal bark. "God above only knows what your goal in coming here was; but unless it was to confirm your commitment to sadism, your inability to weigh the perspective of your target makes it impossible for you to accomplish anything but bluster and bully."

"I hope I have adequately expressed my gratitude for all your generous gifts; now be silent, old woman!" She turns her head slightly, aiming vaguely at the spot from which the second voice emanated. "Who else is present?! Reveal yourself, scryer!"

((Yeah, why can't I roll like that when I have to get a spell off with high Penetration? :laughing: ))

Fiona wanders carefully, taking it all in, making no attempt to hide the near-awe she feels at the laboratory set-up – it's the first time she's been in a Bonisagus's laboratory, and she is more than curious as to how they do it. She glances at the corpse quickly (a morbid curiosity as to whether she recognizes him), but doesn't dwell overlong on it, as there is too much other stuff to take in.

Fiona watches Tranquillina intently for a couple of minutes, a worried look on her face. The lack of a still, or any kind of apparatus that can be used to extract, or even handle, vis, did not go unnoticed by her, and the fact that she is obviously fixing an Arcane Connection (to Cumhachd, apparently, based on what she was told earlier in the day) makes Fiona realize something about her sodalis. She's obsessed, she thinks. She is so intent on getting at Cumhachd that she doesn't care what she does to herself. That's not healthy, and it's certainly not going to make her any stronger.

[color=blue]"Would you like something to drink, Tranquillina? Some water, some wine, maybe some medicinal tea?" she says, her face returning to her more normal stoic expression. ((Com 2 + Guile (hiding true feelings) 3 + die roll of 3 = 8.))

"Very well, since you will only hear me if I can prove my abilities."
Cumhachd transforms into a wolf and then begins speaking.
Cumhachd's voice is very calm, "You don't know his voice, of course. But put Fiona here, Korvin or Alexei, perhaps that Jacques and maybe Isen, too. I know Marcus and Laetitia know him, for his last letter to me was that his harbingers had arrived. But you'd know his hand, since you two wrote each other. He would never have known to write you were it not for me. Tria would never have taken you as her apprentice, if not for me. And Maximanius didn't teach you about the art of Corpus, or unlock your gifts for it, to be more precise, I did. Who else but a Tytalus could assist a Tremere with a deception of the scale of his. Who interceded with Astrolabe, on his behalf to accept him as an 'apprentice'? The coming storm has been building for some time, and it's about to get worse. I have done what I can to limit Guernicus's mundane agents. You have little idea of the scope of their network. The irony that they have the most extensive network of agents for interfering with mundanes, but no one can touch them. You have no idea the scale of what you're involved in, you only have a tiny slice, but there is one person, one person who knows the grand plan." The look on her face makes it look obvious that she's referring to herself.

"You've been battling with this version of me you've created in your head for 40 years, but I am not her. I'm so much more than that. The truths I know are so much worse than the truths you imbue your phantasm. I'm not playing you, girl, you're playing yourself. The game I'm playing is not you, but you are a piece I've positioned to be at the right place, at the right time."

"So, are you interested in hunting bigger game? I have much more important things to do, and with Loys, I have yet another thing to do. So, you can help me, or you can continue to play your petty games."

She changes back to human form, not bothering to put her robes back on. "Valerian has caught my scent. Once he caught Apollodorus scent it took him about 12 years to fully identify him and then take him down. He's getting better at it, before that it was 16 years, and before that it was 20 years. But he hasn't caught the exemplar of Vim, and it is my hope that my efforts will preserve him." Exemplar rings loud in Tranquillina's ear and she's reminded of her conversation with Tria and Maris just over a year ago.

((Folk Ken roll ... is a botch! I gave myself an extra botch die, but it was a botch regardless. Oh, poor Fiona, she doesn't deserve this...!))

Tranquillina glances up once from her unpleasant work while her guest is taking in the laboratory; her first impression is that Fiona genuinely admires the work she has done, which gives her a moment of satisfaction. However, when Fiona speaks, it's clear that the seeming admiration was just a ploy to soften her up. The pitying look on the white-haired maga's face, the over-soothing tone of voice ... Tranquillina knows when she is being judged. "I, just had some tea ... what are you implying, Fiona? That I don't know how to take care of myself?" She pushes the pointed rocks violently away from herself with disgust on her face; a small chunk of the precious vis-infused material spills onto the floor, wasted. "I am perfectly capable, sodalis," she declares in Latin, "of managing my own health and keeping up with my, my research." She moves to stand in front of the cloth, blocking it from view. "Is this why you followed me here - to criticize me?!"

((Holy crap, the thickening plot keeps getting better! :smiley: :exclamation: :mrgreen: ))

Tranquillina is stunned. She is, simply, stunned. She had half expected Cumhachd to launch her out of the villa again or perform some similarly hostile action; instead, the unpredictable maga had actually given her valuable information. Tranquillina hopes that Cumhachd is not skilled at reading the expressions of wolves, because she has no idea what she would do to hide her profound surprise. For a long moment that stretches painfully into another, she stands there on all fours, tongue tasting the air and ears raised high, staring at the naked woman. At last, she licks her fangs and swallows hard.

"That ... Apollodorus, is ... still alive?!" She rolls slowly to her right, ending up in human form with her cloak bound tightly around her. "All this time ... you are here, now?" She is so preoccupied with the geyser of revelations that she completely fails to notice (and how ashamed she would be, if she did notice) that as she stands, she retrieves Cumhachd's robes from where they had fallen and unconsciously hands them to the elder maga, a perfect picture of servility. "What happened to you that day?" she begs (back in Latin) to no particular spot in the air.

Tranquillina's mind spins furiously, working out implications. "Apollodorus was ... is ... an Exemplar of Rego. But that's ... not just loosely descriptive? There are, specific, Exemplars for other Arts...." Even her rancor for Cumhachd's slights is no match for the chance to theorize. "Whom else did Valerian attack? And - how many Exemplars remain?"

A seed of self-loathing starts to germinate inside Tranquillina - because she knows what she is going to say. This Tytalus maga, who treated her like dirt as a young woman, who followed her across Europe to insert herself on their doorstep like a scorpion ... thinks she deserves Tranquillina's help? And after needing to be screamed at just to get around to the point? And yet - learning about Apollodorus, and the hints of others like him, with unimaginable power in their respective Arts - being told that Cumhachd had information about the Guernicus conspiracy threatening Mons Electi and the Order, in fact (she would have her believe) was a central player in an opposing scheme.... The seed grows quickly, because Tranquillina knows that the right, the righteous thing to do would be to tell Cumhachd to get out of this regio, get out of the entire Tribunal, and go back to the sorry life she has crafted for herself, go and take her new slave (traitor that he is) and begin the cycle anew. That's what she deserves.

But that's not what Tranquillina is going to say, and she knows it. The same rush she felt when Alexei had told her of Mons Electi's enemies, the same trembling vitality that hit her after encountering Rose's field Aegis, the empowerment she felt going after Marcus in the Magic Realm ... her desires for ferreting out tantalizing secrets, for actions that meant something, are not something she can resist, when the opportunity is dropped in her lap. She looks at Cumhachd, and a thousand barbs and insults come to mind, but she isn't going to say them, because the damn schemer has set a trap after all.

And so, squeezing her eyes shut, Tranquillina slowly, reluctantly chooses something else to say, the thing that she knew all along she was going to say. "So ... what is this bigger game that needs hunting, then?"
And she hates herself for it.

((Actually, in this form, her hair is still red...the sigil only manifests during the casting, which I've clarified on the wiki.))

It's the fatigue talking, nothing more, Fiona tells herself, unconvincingly. [color=blue]"I'm implying nothing, my friend," she says as calmly as she can. [color=blue]"You came to me for help because you were ill. I gave you some medicine and advised you to rest, but you said that your project couldn't wait until morning, so you came back here, against my advice. I asked to come with you, with your consent, to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't work yourself into the ground. You are feverish, sweating like a pig, and barely able to stand. You tell me if that sounds like a woman who is capable of managing her own health."

She sighs. [color=blue]"If you want me to leave, I'll leave. But here." Fiona reaches into her pouch and pulls out a few sachets, setting them on the table. [color=blue]"Boil the contents of one of these in water for a quarter hour," she says, setting three aside, [color=blue]"and drink the tea while it's still warm; it loses its potency when it gets cold, and reheating it won't help. That is for the chill, fever, and sweats. This one," she says, lifting and setting down the third one, [color=blue]"stir briskly into warm milk; that's to give you a restful and healing sleep. If you want me, these can also serve as an Arcane Connection*, at least for a while."

Fiona makes no attempt to hide the hurt in her eyes as she turns to leave. [color=blue]"I think I can show myself out, I don't want to interrupt your work more than I already have."

Ordinarily, she would find someone to share her bed for the night (she's thinking Melisent), but thinks that would not only be awkward if Tranquillina Leapt to her room while they were busy, but that she would take it as an intentional humiliation. So, she simply returns to her room, retrieves her godemiche from its storage place in her wardrobe, and relieves some tension before drifting off into a restless, dream-filled sleep.

  • Based on "an item designed and made by the target, for example, a letter composed and written by the target," which lasts Weeks. My assumption is that, since Fiona gathered the plants herself and dried, ground, mixed, whatever to make the medicines, and put them into little cloth pouches that she made herself, this would be similar.

"No, he's not alive, exactly. He is still around, and with some effort he can converse. It is costly though, I've used quite a bit of Vis to converse with him." Cumhachd takes the robes from Tranquillina, "Thank you, dear."

"Their names are not important. And it is aptly descriptive. But what is important is that House Guernicus has made it their number one priority to destroy them whenever they found them. With the exception of one of their own who is in their ranks. And as I said, Valerian has taken out three, so far."

Cumhachd says, without any trace of sarcasm, "Why, Bilera of Guernicus, of course." and smiles widely.

On rare occasions, when clues are put together just so, an idea becomes part of one's brain with no intermediate stage of construction or vetting. It is simply present, self-evident, wholly formed from the first instant of its apprehension, unburdened even with the possibility that a person could have lacked the notion earlier. "Valerian is the Exemplar of Terram." Tranquillina says it aloud, not to ask it, nor to prove she knows it, but simply because it is clearly true. His skill with Terram is that of Apollodorus's skill with Rego. And he, a generation more powerful than Maris, at least....

"Who is this Exemplar of Vim, who is now being hunted?" she asks Cumhachd. "And - how do these Exemplars come to exist? What force creates them?"

Tranquillina lowers her head, raises her shoulders to guard her neck, seems to shrink slightly. A bit of a three-ring circus plays itself out within her, nearly subliminally. In one side ring, a locutor crafts a meticulous argument detailing why Tranquillina could never be equal to such a task, how it would be the height of foolish hubris even to consider it. That would be the phantasm of Cumhachd, of course; oddly, the voice is much the same as that in the other side ring, which is much quieter but points out that Cumhachd, the actual, has raised the matter herself, so must have some belief in its appropriateness. Unless it is one of her intrigues, batters back the phantasm. Tranquillina, only marginally able to perceive the details of this spectacle, sits in the center ring. Or perhaps she is the circus master herself, standing outside the entire affair, providing structure for the show but hearing only the rippling reactions from the crowd. And truly, there is a third act, proceeding independently of the debate from the sides: that would be Tranquillina's voice, calmly choosing words while the inner flagellation plays out. "I can only assume that this 'hunting' does not refer to actually killing her. As you have mentioned, that sort of power is not my specialty."

Fiona is completely correct that it is Tranquillina's prostration that has blinded her to the friendly concern, and indeed causes her to think that Fiona's hurt expression is another piece of guile. The Bonisagus slaves away over the cloth for an hour more at least, sustained over her weakened body by magic and fixation. Damn her, telling me how I can't tend to my own state of being, she grumbles as she finally brings her work to a stopping point. With a snort of contempt, she leaves the sachets on the table where they lie and heads off to bed.

But by the end of the week, she has used every one of the medicinal gifts, to her betterment.

"Who he is is not important at this time. He is well protected, and my agents are able to see to his needs both Hermetic and mundane. And didn't I make myself clear? Valerian has caught my scent. I am being hunted. You see, we can identify each other, after a fashion. It's a very subtle signal, but for Valerian, it's growing much easier to read, or our signal is becoming stronger, as the Exemplars are destroyed or otherwise lost to us. He caught my scent at Grand Tribunal."

Cumhachd uses Tranquillina's given name but doesn't seem to be using it vindictively, if Tranquillina wants to hear the tone, it sounds loving, "Eskil, come now. The irony that you say such a thing in the form of a wolf; is it a hunt if you don't bring down the prey? I do mean to kill her. And I mean to do it in front of Valerian, himself." Her voice is firm, controlled and neither it nor her voice display any sense of madness that this outline of a plan suggests. "Your power is greater than you think, but I don't intend for you to do the deed. That is my task. No, I intend for you to be my co-conspirator. Our relationship is uniquely suited to this task."

((When these conversations wrap up a bit, Korvin will call a council meeting to discuss casting an AoH around the villa. Of course, other things can be discussed as well. :mrgreen: ))

((I feel like Tranquillina would know enough about Cumhachd's magic to figure out which Exemplar she is - but I the player am not sure ... Corpus?))

((I'll penalize her Folk Ken roll -3 due to her insecurity - if anything I'm going easy on her :laughing: Per 2 + Folk Ken (opinions of her) 4 - insecure 3 + stress die 1 / exploder 7 = 17. Maybe her Folk Ken specialization should be Tytalus :smiley: ))
((PS: She's back in human form now))

"Well," Tranquillina starts, unimpressively. "Whatever might be said about you, nobody shall accuse you of making small schemes." While it confuses her greatly, she can hear the fondness in Cumhachd's voice. The phantasms in her head decide to take a lunch break, promising however to return replenished.

Wondering how to proceed, she thinks back to Stultus's exhortation not to mask her feelings around him; she decides to hope that is an appropriate tactic here. "Look, Cumhachd ... I know enough about Valerian's power, and Bilera's influence, and Guernicus's corruption to be extremely skeptical about your ability to fulfill this dream. And describing a cooperative venture between you and me as 'unlikely' is the acme of understatement; I cannot imagine working successfully in concert with you." Tranquillina holds up a hand to forestall any argument. "However - other things have been revealed to me just now that I also could not imagine. And skepticism is not the same as outright denial. Ergo, my optimal course of action, logically, is to gather more information with which to evaluate your proposal to ... to accomplish something that needs accomplishing," she surprises herself with the venom in her voice, "and something that will protect my covenant."

"In short," she concludes, hands on her hips and a wry smile on her lips, "what do you propose 'our' plan be?"

((We'll play it that Tranquillina might be sure, since she and Stultus are so different, and both are touched by Cumhachd, it makes it tough to categorize her. So, if the player wants to know, Tranquillina needs to ask/confirm.))

"That is the simplicity of the scheme. We will not cooperate, or we will not appear to be cooperating. We have over 40 years of history with which to bait the trap. You and will continue our public enmity, escalating our public responses to each other, until you bring action to me at a tribunal, probably a special one, and probably one that will involve members of both our regional Tribunals. And who better to be Presiding Quaesitor of such a tribunal than the Presiding Quaesitor of the past Grand Tribunal? It is possible that she might decline, but Valerian would counsel her to accept, since he has caught my scent. He will perceive the opportunity to be too good to pass up, because it will give him an opportunity to strike at me, or at least test my defenses. Or that is my hope. It is very possible that I am wrong about this, but Valerian is very predictable. We must simply ensure that our behavior is such that it rises to a level which requires an inter-Tribunal response."

((Gotcha. and Hence:))
Tranquillina peers carefully at Cumhachd. "You claim that you are the cause of my rapport with my favored Form. Are you ... professing to be the Exemplar of Corpus?"
((OOC, I can't decide if I predict Corpus or Mentem....))

"Special Tribunals are hard to arrange ... unless you mean for this to happen at next year's discussion of Mons Electi as the permanent site for Normandy meetings?" Tranquillina rubs her chin in thought.

"Certainly, this relocation of yours to my doorstep is a public step of escalation. Hence a response from me is needed, an appropriate one. Do you intend that we coordinate these responses?" Tranquillina looks at the maga pointedly. "And there will be those who suspect our cooperation, however unlikely it may seem given our outward motives, simply because we have the means and opportunity."