Decland frowned at Elliot, resisting the urge to shrug his shoulders like a pouting child. He didn’t know what exactly he was supposed to do to 'prepare for their leave' when he had not the magic to make it so. Inherently, he knew that the warlock just liked finding reasons to order him around. Showing off for his new toy, he’d bet. “Ready when you are, Lord Wilder,” was Decland’s lofty response. The Lynx considered, if he were lucky, the new toy would keep the prince regent occupied long enough for Decland to have some much needed time away from him. And the decrepit and dangerous dungeons that he oft refused to traverse himself.
“Excellent,” Elliot declared with a clap of his hands. The words pertaining to both the Page and the guardsmen. Grinning, he moved closer to Xiah, but only enough to put a firm hand against the middle of the other man’s back. With a careless wave of his free hand he opened a portal.
The magic resembled a tear, as if the space around it were simply cloth someone had pulled a knife through. Teleportation was easy enough magic for Elliot and his two-hundred and fifty years of practice. A view of their destination shimmered in pieces on the other side.
Decland, tired of waiting for the warlock and the book to finish whatever it was they were doing, disappeared into the portal without a second glance; eager to be home. Or at least back in Laine, which would be home enough.
«Teleportation magic,» Elliot explained to Xiah, as that firm hand on his back ushered them both closer to it. «I’m sure you’re familiar. I’ll be taking us back to my home, which you’ll find is quite the upgrade from this damp hole.» As he spoke, he did not exactly give Xiah enough time to accommodate the information of their aforementioned travel were he not familiar with portals. Leading him towards and through the tear all the while. Elliot was not known to be a patient man.
The Wilder duchy was grand and expansive, which befit a man who himself was grand and expansive. Almost needlessly so. It was a meshing of ancient, as it was still formed of the same stones it had been molded in hundred of years ago, and modern given its electricity and lavish decor. It was nestled on the largest plot of land in Laine, the third largest of the Veridian Isles. It was the most northern of the islands; a boreal forest that was covered in a blanket of snow of varying thickness year round. It was quite cozy on the inside however, if one had a taste for the extravagant.
Elliot removed his hand from Xiah’s back, moving further into the room that he’d brought them to. The room functioned as an office, circular with a large cherry-stained desk in the middle. The outer rings of the room were decorated with various magical trinkets, on shelves and behind glass. It was a museum curator’s dream; if they dreamed of dark and often dangerous magics.
The warlock pushed fingers through his hair and unbuttoned his suit jacket as he moved towards the door, hanging half-ajar from Decland’s hasty retreat. Throwing it open, Elliot glared down the empty hall. The whole of the castle was kept in check by a full staff that was almost never seen lest the fall victim to Elliot’s temper.
All save for one.
“Eden!” he barked, and his voice carried across mosaic stones. It was that one word, a name, simple enough that would bring him exactly what he needed.
Closing the door once more, he turned to readdress Xiah. Pulling off the jacket he carelessly let it fall onto one of the chairs in front of the desk as he skirted around it to sit in the larger chair behind it. Steepling fingers together, he assessed Xiah, much as he had been since their initial meeting. «Why don’t you tell me about yourself?» he suggested.
“Excellent,” Elliot declared with a clap of his hands. The words pertaining to both the Page and the guardsmen. Grinning, he moved closer to Xiah, but only enough to put a firm hand against the middle of the other man’s back. With a careless wave of his free hand he opened a portal.
The magic resembled a tear, as if the space around it were simply cloth someone had pulled a knife through. Teleportation was easy enough magic for Elliot and his two-hundred and fifty years of practice. A view of their destination shimmered in pieces on the other side.
Decland, tired of waiting for the warlock and the book to finish whatever it was they were doing, disappeared into the portal without a second glance; eager to be home. Or at least back in Laine, which would be home enough.
«Teleportation magic,» Elliot explained to Xiah, as that firm hand on his back ushered them both closer to it. «I’m sure you’re familiar. I’ll be taking us back to my home, which you’ll find is quite the upgrade from this damp hole.» As he spoke, he did not exactly give Xiah enough time to accommodate the information of their aforementioned travel were he not familiar with portals. Leading him towards and through the tear all the while. Elliot was not known to be a patient man.
The Wilder duchy was grand and expansive, which befit a man who himself was grand and expansive. Almost needlessly so. It was a meshing of ancient, as it was still formed of the same stones it had been molded in hundred of years ago, and modern given its electricity and lavish decor. It was nestled on the largest plot of land in Laine, the third largest of the Veridian Isles. It was the most northern of the islands; a boreal forest that was covered in a blanket of snow of varying thickness year round. It was quite cozy on the inside however, if one had a taste for the extravagant.
Elliot removed his hand from Xiah’s back, moving further into the room that he’d brought them to. The room functioned as an office, circular with a large cherry-stained desk in the middle. The outer rings of the room were decorated with various magical trinkets, on shelves and behind glass. It was a museum curator’s dream; if they dreamed of dark and often dangerous magics.
The warlock pushed fingers through his hair and unbuttoned his suit jacket as he moved towards the door, hanging half-ajar from Decland’s hasty retreat. Throwing it open, Elliot glared down the empty hall. The whole of the castle was kept in check by a full staff that was almost never seen lest the fall victim to Elliot’s temper.
All save for one.
“Eden!” he barked, and his voice carried across mosaic stones. It was that one word, a name, simple enough that would bring him exactly what he needed.
Closing the door once more, he turned to readdress Xiah. Pulling off the jacket he carelessly let it fall onto one of the chairs in front of the desk as he skirted around it to sit in the larger chair behind it. Steepling fingers together, he assessed Xiah, much as he had been since their initial meeting. «Why don’t you tell me about yourself?» he suggested.
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