What a disaster...

Rhiandri Etiainen was the sort of Highborne that needed her surroundings arranged in a way that made sense, or focusing on her work was next to impossible. The moment she opened the door to the mess within, she knew nothing would get accomplished that day... except for maybe a headache.

All of her materials had been cleared from the tables and thrown onto the ground. Enchanting dusts mixed with spilled tea concentrate, which created a shimmering goop that covered the floor and soaked into the pages of ancient books. Keeping her cool after the initial assessment, Rhiandri closed and locked the door behind her, and proceeded forward.

The tomes that had been soaked were beyond repair. One by one the Highborne picked them up on her way over to the largest of three tables, stacking them as delicately as possible. During her millennia in the Athenaeum, she and her associates had had their ways of saving their ancient knowledge from accidents, sabotage, and the ravages of time. Even if the pages themselves could not be saved, their contents could be transcribed.

But as she was delicately peeling apart a couple of pages, her long ears picked up a nearby sound... and the mage realized the vague tingling of magic in the air wasn't just Dalaran's usual atmosphere. A hint of fel was in there too, she could just barely detect it. The Highborne was on her guard now, scanning the corners of the room with a scrutinizing gaze, her senses trying to pinpoint the location of the other person in the room.

Finally, with an exasperated sigh, Rhiandri broke the silence. "I know you linger there."

Although the room was lit with an arcane bulb of Kirin Tor design, the shadows began to flicker as if lit by the unsteady flame of a candle. They stretched, extended into the light and took the shape of a much smaller elf that the mage recognized before she even saw the face.

"Svetlaena..."

The darkness melted away from Svetlaena's form to reveal her slight frame. While she was usually pale, this new pallor immediately indicated something was off. Her brilliant emerald eyes were now far more muted in tone, her copper hair dull and tangled. The Blood Elf folded her spindly fingers and strode closer to her associate.

"Hello, Rhi," But the greeting was as empty and odd as the smile on her face. "Were you not expecting to see me here?"

On the surface, Rhiandri kept herself relaxed, but beneath, she was tensed and ready for the worst. The tiny priestess was unstable on even her best days. Her tone cool, she replied, "Firstly, this is not the agreed-upon rendezvous point, so no. Secondly you are risking not only your freedom but your life by coming here. I presume I need not ask who is responsible for the state of my study?"

Svetlaena rolled her eyes. "Here it comes, the lecture. You've always got one ready for me, don't you?"

"The look on your face is more suited for a child than a parent," the mage deadpanned.

But it was largely ignored, the small elf's anger growing. "You always strut about like you're so much better than me. So much wiser from age. You're just an old hag."

Rhiandri had no patience for Svetlaena's provocations today. Arms crossed over her chest she glanced around at the disorder of her study and then looked back at the Sin'dorei, trying to meet her eyes. "Please tell me that you at least brought fresh samples to make up for the chaos you have wrought."

A thoughtful, disappointed hum from the priestess and she clicked her tongue. "Changing the subject. When did you get to be so boring, Rhiandri?"

The mage frowned and turned away, kneeling down to pick up the broken shards of a vial before someone stepped on them. "Should I construe that as a 'no'?"

"Mhm." Svetlaena giggled like a child. "I decided to keep them. After all, I can probably get better and more efficient results than you."

Perplexed, the Highborne paused to glance back at her. The Blood Elf was still grinning widely, just waiting for the next question, intentionally behaving in the manner she knew was infuriating to her associate. A long silence passed while the two elven women met gazes.

"I tire of this," Rhiandri said at last, her tone cold even for her standards, "I suppose it would be redundant of me to explain that prolonged exposure to corruption is... something to be avoided. I should have known of your susceptibility."

"Are you going to feel sorry for me now?" When the mage didn't reply, the professor snatched up one of the few pieces of glassware that had survived her initial onslaught and smashed it on the floor in her fury. "Your pity makes me sick, and you..." She pointed, glaring down the length of her finger, "are an abomination against nature."

The reply was simple. "Pot, kettle."

Svetlaena let out a shrill growling sound and threw an obsidian mortar and pestle on the ground.

The Highborne spoke slow and clear, "If you do not stop that, someone will summon the authorities, and it may very well be me that does it."

"Oh dear. You're going to tattle? Whatever shall I do?" The sarcasm was evident, as was her intent when shadows began to weave through her fingers. "It's a shame you've taken up with Jaina and her lot. You've changed."

Rhiandri tilted her chin up as she warded herself. "For the better."

The priestess shook her head and shifted a little in her stance. "You started listening to that idiot druid Vaedoras too much, you've been letting him screw the sense out of you. I should've known."

That was enough crudeness for the mage, and enough waiting. She tried to polymorph the Blood Elf into a harmless feline form, but Svetlaena was ready for her, countering the spell and responding with disproportionate force. The blast of dark energy knocked Rhiandri into her own desk, head throbbing with pain already.

The magic was so strong in the air in the seconds afterward that she could nearly taste it, the signature markedly different from the feel of shadow magic alone. It was not the allure of fel, nor the terrible reek of necromancy, but nearly as repulsive as the latter. The Highborne felt a distinct unease that she could not shake. It crept into her very thoughts as she regained her stance, facing the enraged priestess down. For a while neither moved.

Soon Svetlaena's impatience took hold. She extended a hand, calling forth shadows... but the spell failed prematurely as her own technique was turned on her. The mage took advantage of the opening her counterspell provided to unleash a blast of concentrated arcane energy. But like the caster, the spell was reserved, hesitant. Rhiandri still preferred to simply incapacitate the small elf if she could; and thus her magic did not shatter the last-minute shield her opponent erected.

The professor had no such hesitations.

This was made more than clear to the mage when her body lit up in pain, bringing her to her knees. Svetlaena kept up her concentration, pumping more and more energy into the spell as she closed the physical distance between them, a malicious smile on her lips. Rhiandri gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain silent to deny the sick woman any more gratification.

"I never wanted it to come to this, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it," the corrupted priest was saying, but it was hard to make out her words. The mage's eyes were shut tight now, trembling hands on her head, which felt as if it was splitting open from the pain. For whatever else this corruption was, it was incredibly strong; this was a level of power she had never seen Svetlaena reach. She dared not risk the use of her usual ace. Once she was riding the high of a dose of fel blood anything could happen... and it would probably not stay contained to the relatively small room. It would all happen right in front of the Kirin Tor.

Rhiandri's balance started to fail her and she put one hand down to prop herself up. Something stung her on the hand, the pain barely an afterthought in comparison to the draining shadows, but she opened her eyes to catch a blurry glimpse of a long shard of glass, a bit of her blood spattered where she'd sliced her fingers on it.

Svetlaena's voice cut into the haze of agony once more, hollow but melodic. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of your pretty little Vaedoras."

Ignoring the pain, the Highborne's hand began to close around the piece of glass, defiantly keeping eye contact the whole while.

"I'll make an excellent pet out of him."

Though she looked about to say more, the Professor never got the chance. Having had her fill of taunts and torture, Rhiandri stuck the piece of glass several inches into the smaller elf's thigh. Once it met the resistance of bone she let go.

Svetlaena's scream was delayed but when it came, it was ear-shattering.

With the spell's release Rhiandri began to reorient herself, pulling herself up on the side of the desk, a task made unnecessarily difficult by her slick, bloodied hand. A quick look to her opponent. The little redhead was ranting and cursing while she tried to get a good hold on the shard without cutting herself up, so the mage had some time to spare. She began to draw in surrounding mana, and felt even more relief when she heard the sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor. Finally someone had heard the commotion.

Svetlaena heard it too it seemed, for she immediately went for a scroll at her belt. Though weak, the corruption and the threats were symptoms of a far greater threat than the Highborne was comfortable with letting escape. No, she had sworn to herself and to the world that she would no longer stand idly by. Millenia of inaction would end right here.

The door to the study was locked, and the guards could be heard trying to loosen it. She would have to stop the priestess herself. Rhiandri was wary of using fire in her study, near so much volatile magic and books and papers, so the bolt was a small, surgically precise one that blasted the professor's hand. She dropped the scroll, palm burned quite visibly... and her fel-tainted eyes locked onto the mage hatefully.

Without a word, Svetlaena hobbled over, very much favoring her wounded leg, and held out her scorched hand. Still too weakened to fight back, she could only sink back to the floor, eventually losing her grip on the desk as the dark magic siphoned her life force and mana even faster than before. The Blood Elf was trying to finish her prey as fast as possible and it almost looked as if she would succeed. The room spun. It was more difficult than she could have imagined but the mage raised her hand, aimed with blurred and blackening vision, and unleashed every last bit of mana she had in an offensive blast.

As her assailant hit the ground, the door was finally forced open. The Sin'dorei looked up to find herself against unfair odds and scrambled to reach her recall scroll, and what would have been a finishing blast from the Silver Covenant patrol dented the floor as she vanished into thin air.

The adrenaline that was keeping Rhiandri alert faded and she blacked out, utterly drained.