[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/XonJHsx.png[/img]

[h2]ROISIN MAGNOLIA[/h2]
[b][sup]The LITTLE GOD of the LITTLE THINGS | The FEIGHDFULC MATHAIR | LADY of the FADE | The KHODEXBORNDOTTR
LADYPRINCE of the FAE-FINTE | The FAERIE QUEEN | The GREAT VEILED ONE | MISTRESS of the PLACE BETWIXT ALL PLACES
HIGH QUEEN of the FAIRIES[/sup][/b]

&

[h1]Sylia[/h1][/centre]

[hr]

Sylia found herself in the palace of the thief. She had broken her stalwart vow of never again venturing into the immaterial. All fell silent in that little gay court. She did not see its beauty, she did not see its great craftsmanship, nor even the Little god herself. The God of metal fixated upon the crown hovering above the small god. The divinium crown. Not even Allianthé’s madness had caused her to feel so… Upset. The twins, who now owed her two lifetimes, sat before the throne fussing with one another. No doubt aware of how close they had been to dying.

Sylia pointed with her sword at that little feighd queen. “You said you were born of the Khodex? What proof undeniable can you give to this claim? Or are you a thief and pretender?” The small veiled god turned her head to Sylia, and with a word of ease she caused the faeries in the court to retire and take the two accused elfwomen with them so that the gods were left alone. “I don’t know what you mean by thief, and I didn’t think there was a need to prove something self-evident. I have never lied, it is not in my character. I don’t believe there is any greater proof of anything than the known truthfulness and integrity of the speaker - but you might not agree. If you have doubts or do not wish to believe it, I am not forcing you to believe it or coercing you in any way. You are free to think what you like and I shan’t be in the slightest upset - though I only ask, if you do not wish to be friendly, that you at least mirror the respect I show you.” The Little god spoke slowly and neutrally, neither offended nor offending. As she spoke, a great seat materialised for Sylia, and juices and fruits immediately familiar and wondrous were layered out in cups and on platters of silver, gold, and many gems. They lay on several small wooden tables of fine craftsmanship interlaced with latticework of lapis lazuli and jade, and studded with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires.

The goddess flicked her Godwand, whose redwood enmeshed in Astralite and hilted with Magnolium put even the wondrous platters and tables to shame, so that Sylia’s already ornate thronely seat came to be decorated in silks, damasks, and luxurious cushions. “Forgive my inhospitality, please do make yourself comfortable and help yourself to some of these new tastes. I will be entirely open with you, there is no need for us to be standoffish. Come come, sit and be at ease. There has been too much tension for one day.”

Sylia's eyes were so transfixed upon the crown that she paid no attention to what had changed about her. In fact, it was only when the little god flicked her wand that she stopped staring at the crown to stare at that wand. She made no move to sit but lowered her blade. She raised her free hand and the magnolium component of the Godwand, after a few moments, obeyed the call of the metal god. Breaking off from the wood and Astralite, it streamed from the little queen’s grasp. Sylia studied the wand, her brow furrowing. Roisin was silent for a few moments as Sylia examined it, then she spoke. “Had you asked I would have given it to you. Now please, do sit. If I have to repeat myself I fear you will have made me seem very foolish.”

“This should not be.” Sylia whispered. “A divinium alloy… After creation?” She looked at the queen then - with some reluctance - gave back her wand with a gentle push. Her sword altered its shape until it was but a rod that hovered beside her. “Sitting will not be necessary in my case, Lady.” Sylia said with a slight bow. Her attitude whisked away in an instant. “The only foolish one here is myself. Your wand is proof enough of your designation. Khodexborn at last.” The Little god drew the Magnolium wand to her and affixed it once more to the Godwand, then placed it down on an intricately made pedestal by the High Throne. There it hovered and hummed with magicks and glamours. 

Roisin Magnolia turned her head again in Sylia’s direction. “You are far from being a fool, don’t speak ill words about yourself. I am glad that your skepticism has been put to rest, though, Sylia Diviniumheart. Still, there is no need for formality. I am not enthroned upon a throne of authority, it is not mine to command and decree and, therefore, I have no right to obeisance to a like degree. Mine is an enthronement of being not of rule- but let me not annoy you with riddling words!” She rose from her throne and approached Sylia, moving gently through the air like a feather on a playful wind. “You accused me of being a thief also. I admit to being ignorant of where this accusation stems from. Could you elucidate so that, perhaps, I may offer up a defence?”

“There is no need for defense,” Sylia said, crossing her arms. “The Crown you wear was intended as a gift for the Khodex. As Khodexborn, it is yours by right. I drop all accusations and thus my apology to you is the maker's approval. Now, I am not at all familiar with you or your kind but I see plain you are with the best intentions. Allianthé’s heart is poisoned with grief and blooming with hate. It's too rash of her. Too emotional a response. I would never have put blade to her flesh, I shall have you know, but I cannot say the same of her at present. Perhaps this path was laid out long ago. Life cannot be life without death and I fear that fact alone shall lead her astray into corruption of her intent. What are we, for you have jumped into this mess, going to do about it, I wonder?” Sylia watched the small goddess hovering in silence before her.

“For my part - and you may see otherwise - I can do no more than to exhort Allianthé to goodness. I knew her before this grief, though even then she struggled. I will call on her and exhort her untiringly; there is little more I can do for her - I certainly cannot force healing or goodness into her. And perhaps if we show her mercy, kindness, generosity of spirit, patience, treat her ever with fairness and forgiveness, and in all manner exemplify that breadth of spirit and elevation we call her to… perhaps it will find a way to her heart. In all other ways we - yes, you too Sylia, I call you to it - can do nothing but ourselves be good.” Roisin settled down on the armrest of the fine throne she had conjured for Sylia. “That’s how I see it - but perhaps you, being a sister to iron and steel, see with a keener and sharper sight than I do. I welcome your say on the matter.”

“That's assuming she will want anything to do with us after this debacle. You may try all you like to open her heart once more but I cannot seeing it working at this time. Though I'd like it to.” The silver goddess sighed. “She will seek retribution that time will not dull. Her resolve will only strengthen, I have no doubt. The twins will be in constant threat of death. I would send them upon a quest to retrieve that syllianth's soul but it may already be too late. The wheel of reincarnation goes ever on. No, they have suffered and will continue to suffer. Just as Allianthé until reason is cast before her eyes or, unfortunately, beaten into her like common sense.” Roisin Magnolia issued an audible sigh at Sylia’s words, visible too as a cloud of variegated glamour. “Well, we can only do what we can - and what we see as right. I only implore you to remember: gentleness and kind forbearance is not in a thing except that it makes it more beautiful, and it is not taken out of a thing except that it is made less beautiful. I implore you towards that which is more beautiful.” She paced up and down the armrest for a few moments, deep in thought. “But I think you are right about the danger that swift follows the twins… it may be safer for both of them if they are separated.”

“Another unfortunate reality.” Sylia agreed. “United only to be separated once more. When I found them they were in a sorry state. I shall not speak of specifics only know I removed such memories from them. Such is best left to be forgotten, for they are already traumatized by their ordeals and now this. I shall take the fiery one, most to blame for this accident. She will face her own trial as punishment. I know not if she will recover without her twin but this shall be her test.” Sylia’s word caused the Little god to lift off from the armrest and rise so that she was level with Sylia’s head.

“Your words leave little doubt that you are certain of their guilt. I have received at least one narrative from a witness to the incident… but it seems to me that you may have another witness. Would you be willing to share that with me for the purpose of making a final judgment on this matter? Certainly the sooner we are able to arrive at a verdict the better it will be.”

Sylia huffed. “Allianthé would not have reacted if it had been anything lesser. Her chosen was transformed, accidently as any could see, by two quarreling sisters. Allianthé then took the life of her chosen without so much as trying to reverse the damage. They are both to blame for this tragedy but I do not think a life should be taken for a life, less two for one. Was their guilt not evident upon their faces?” No amount of looking at the veiled goddess could reveal what she thought about Sylia’s words, but her response came beauteous and calm as always, if not a little sad. “Your words mirror what I have been told. A sad affair in all ways, though who bears the greatest guilt for it I cannot yet say. I will attempt to speak to Allianthé in due course, once the agent of time has put some distance between us and the incident. I will attempt to have her accept my arbitration. But before I do any such thing I must ask you first: would you permit me to arbitrate on the matter? Will you accept my judgment when I reach it, even if it differs from what you would have liked? It will be terribly difficult to secure Allianthé’s agreement, and I will not seek to get it if I do not already have yours.”

“As you do not have a great stake in this matter, I believe you are the most natural suited for arbitration. If you wish it, then you shall have my agreement, no matter the outcome.” Sylia confirmed. Roisin nodded and soared back to her throne. Retrieving the Godwand, she whispered a word of summoning. Ida and Ayre, flanked by their faerie wardens, appeared before the throne once more.

Ida looked ahead, Ayre looked at the floor. Both dejected and unsure. Unease and guilt lingered in the air. For once, neither spoke. It seemed their ordeal had drained them of any speeches. Sylia, now before them, spoke. “You both have gone through much in such a short time. Unfortunately, it won’t be getting any easier. Your Goddess has declared you enemies of her state. Be it madness or grief that compels her, none can say. This is certain however, she will not stop hunting you until she believes retribution has been done. Life itself has chosen for you to die.” Ayre’s knees wobbled as a gasp escaped her throat and then she began to fall but invisible hands held her a loft. Ida stared forward at nothing. “I know the incident was accidental in nature. I would not have intervened otherwise. This doesn’t mean you don’t share blame in the act itself. A Syllianth- Irrithae, is dead. Thus we have decided your only course of action is to be separated until the time-”

“No!” Ayre yelled, cutting off the Goddess. “I won’t let you separate us! You can’t. It isn’t fair!” 

Sylia frowned. “Fairness has little to do with it. Interrupt me again and I shall do what Allianthe could not- Cut out your tongue, little girl.”

As the threat settled over Ayre, the girl’s face contorted into rage. Steam began to rise from her body, as her features went red. Though neither Sylia nor Ayre moved, a great distance seemed to appear between them and Roisin manifested there, her flowing dress and generous wimple trailing behind her. She spoke cooling words and all about her were glamorous of utter peace. “Sá chluin mo ríomhaireacht, déithe na Khothael, agus bí síocháin.” She commanded, so that all anger and desire to lash out left Ayre. The goddess was still for a few moments and then she cocked her head. “You have something of divine make there,” she pointed to Ayre’s breast, “shew it me, dear daughter.” 

Ayre blinked wildly, grasping at the necklace hidden beneath her clothes. “I…It was a gift.” she said, making no move to show it. The glamours of an understanding, patient smile flowed about Roisin. “Of course. You have drawn the gaze of many a god, Ayre…” her glamours turned to slight sadness, “but not all gods are kind or good, my dear. Let me only have a look, I’ll deny you nothing that is yours - I am no thief, I assure you.”

Sylia, near once more, watched as Ayre, with much reluctance, pulled out the necklace to reveal a large prismatic gem set. Sylia’s brows furrowed. She had felt such a presence before but where? As she tried to pinpoint it, Roisin Magnolia approached Ayre and inspected the gem. She flicked her hand, so that the Godwand shimmered across the throne room and into her grasp, and trailed the tip of her wand across the stone. “This is…” Roisin murmured thoughtfully, “quite terrible.” She withdrew her hand and fluttered away from the girl. “I would advise you, my dear, to rid yourself of that. It has great power, there is no doubt, but it will only bring your soul and form to ugliness. If you keep it, then you will one day lose all conception of yourself - though before that, you will have known much woe.” She let her words settle, and their seriousness seemed somehow reinforced by the glamours of warning that swirled about the Little god. “Do you understand me, Ayre? Let it not be said you did not know.”
Her hand began to shake around the gem. Ayre looked at Ida but it was as if she wasn’t there at all. Still she looked off into the nothingness. Ayre glanced back at the little god, her eyes beginning to narrow. Before she could say anything, Sylia interjected, “Power corrupts. Look how you are already shifting to blame her. Those eyes. Give it up Ayre.” She said, for once, in a voice like a gentle breeze. Once more Ayre’s face shifted from benign beauty to a flicker of anger. Her entire forearm was shaking now. She jerked her head and her eyes snapped shut. It was if she was battling some inner, wicked thing. Then, in one quick motion, she flung off the necklace and it clattered to the ground. Ayre took a deep breath and opened her eyes. There was a calmness about them, lucidity returned from the cusp. 

The Godwand flashed so that a small maelstrom of glamour took up the necklace and brought it up before the two gods. “It is of the making of Yumash,” Roisin intonated distastefully. Her head turned towards Sylia. “I can hide it away here, but my faerie grandchildren are not all of them so wise or trustworthy,” her words did not seem to ruffle the faerie wardens hovering about Ida and Ayre, “and I fear that in time one or another will use it for some mischief.” She spoke a word of encasement, so that the necklace came to be bound in a small silver case. “I leave it to you, Sylia. Perhaps a craftsman like you might even be able to destroy it in time- but ah, do hold off on that. It may prove an important piece of evidence in this investigation,” she paused, “in fact,” she brought the case back to her, “it may be best I keep it until I have spoken with Allianthé. Surely showing her this will let her see that things are not as they seem. I will have it delivered to you immediately after for safekeeping.” 

Sylia gave a wave of her hand in approval. “I trust you in this.”

The Little god flicked her wand and the silver case soared off until it came to rest on the pedestal by the High Throne. Turning to Ayre, she spoke. “How do you feel now? Better?”

The red headed girl nodded as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “Yes, Goddess. Better.” Ayre looked back at Ida but her twin was much the same. She then looked at Sylia. “Separation?”

The silvered goddess gave another nod. “Until Life settles, it’s safer. I have elected to take you. It will be no easy thing, the trial ahead of you. But it must be done if you are to atone.”

The girl looked at the ground before her, nodding slow in acceptance. “I assume Ida shall stay here, in the graces of the Queen?” Sylia asked, looking at Roisin. For her part, the High Queen of the Faeries turned more fully towards Ida, as if observing the heavily scarred elf for the first time. “Yes,” Roisin cantillated, “Ida may stay here at Taramanca with me. Life has forced separation upon ye; Perhaps reunion ‘twill one day decree. I am sure that you and I will have many occasions to speak, Ida. But Ayre, as you are leaving,” she turned to the fiery twin, “I want you to remember how you cast the necklace from yourself. That took strength. It took will. And it took an understanding of what is beautiful and good. Keep that always in your mind and heart; goodness is a beautiful aspiration.” So saying, she wove glamours in her hand that formed up into a ring of silver interlaced with gold. It was studded with glimmering rubies. Incantations and words of great power were engraved into it right from the Little god’s mouth. “This is for you. Virtue and goodness is its own reward, true, but I would be truly unvirtuous if I was witness to an act of courageous willpower and did not reward it.” The ring soared towards Ayre and hung before her on a cushion of glamour.

Ayre took the ring gingerly and thanked Roisin in a small voice. She then looked at her twin again and said, “Ida… I’m so sorry.” Ida at last, looked at Ayre with frosty eyes. “So am I.” She said flatly. “Be well Ayre.” She turned and began to walk away, seemingly nowhere before the faery guards guided her out. Ayre called out after her, “Ida! I-I love you!” Her sister did not turn around. 

Grief and pain flashed across Ayre’s face before Sylia crossed over to her, placing a silvered hand upon her shoulder. “She loves you even if it can’t be said. Do not worry, you will see her again. This I promise. Now come, we tarry here too long.” Sylia turned to Roisin. “And I shall see you again, little queen.” Roisin nodded to her. “I do not doubt it, dearest Sylia.” She gestured to one of Ayre’s warden fae. “Firborn will accompany you still, Ayre. With his help and blessings all the secrets of your ring will come unveiled to you.” The fire-headed Firborn settled on Ayre’s shoulder, and Sylia said at last, “Be cautious of Life.” before they were gone from the Veil in a blink. 

[list][*][hider=Summary]
Sylia and Roisin meet and after a tense moment, Sylia recognizes the legitimacy of the little queen. They go on to talk about what to do with Allianthe and eventually agree that Roisin should arbitrate and see if the Life goddess can see reason. It is then determined that the twins will have to be split up, for fear they will be hunted. Ayre objects to this and it is finally revealed what she carries- the fervor necklace. Roisin says its bad news and Ayre wills herself to rid it and she does, in return, she is gifted a cool ring. She then bids goodbye to her sister, who has been silent as ever. Ida walks out after a tense goodbye. They then depart. 
[/hider]

[*][hider=Sylia MP]

Sylia
6MP

Nothing spent

6MP remaining 
[/hider]

[*][hider=Of Might & Glamour]Roisin’s opening Might: 7 Might

-2 Might to Create a Glamour Focus in the form of a ring “the Roisring; the First Ring; the Ring of Power”
[indent]This ring is a powerful focus for glamour. The one who wears it is more resistant to hostile magicks of all sorts due to the protective incantations engraved into it, while the spells that are cast are generally stronger and more stable. The ring responds more positively to wielders who manifest Roisin’s virtues and beauty; a spell cast with strong positive emotions, such as courage, self-sacrifice, love etc. will tap into a deeper power than  those fueled by hatred, anger, spite (though stronger in a shallow sense due to Itzal’s curse, such spells are easily dispelled and quickly lose potency as they do not tap into the ring’s deep well of beauty/virtue-rooted power).[3/4 to the Incantations domain][/indent]

Roisin’s closing Might: 5 Might[/hider][/list]