Foreshadowing abound.
Enjoy.
Dun Morogh; Frostmane Digsite
After clearing out an entire troll encampment from the cave in question Menma, Agatha, their mutual acquaintance Trixie Blastfuse, and the Explorers League filled the previously Frostmane Hold to the brim with diggers, earthmovers and several grunts to operate it all.
Menma strode into the uncovered chamber, there was a thick red rope around a thick, jagged shard of ice that almost scraped against the 'ceiling' of the icy cave, atop the shard was a single ruby coloured gem set into a golden falcon clasp, wings spread around the gem whilst the head of the avian looked skyward, all in all a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.
Menma knelt on the ground and closed his eyes, slowing his breathing and centering himself to feel out the ambient magic in the room, vaguely hearing the small footsteps of the gnomish magus behind him.
There was magic in the amulet, this was to be sure, it seemed to be a simple preservation enchantment, but with how pristine it was and how long it had to of survived, the enchantment must have been done in the halcyon days of the Highborne empire.
"It shouldn't be an issue to just grab it… why exactly did you need a Mage from Stormwind to come out just to check on this?" Menma questioned the gnome standing beside him, hand on his cheek in thought.
The gnomes bright yellow eyes nearly glowed within the low light of the dug-out cavern, almost as much as her bright white pigtails.
"Tradition mostly." Informed the gnome, her high pitched voice almost childlike in nature, "We gnomes learnt magic from you humans, it seemed only right to have one of you along to verify a discovery."
"Seems a little extreme to pick someone like myself specifically for 'tradition'." Menma countered with a narrow stare.
"Well maybe I just wanted to see what kind of cutie they'd send our way?" Questioned Trixie with a wide, smile and a coquettish bat of her eyelashes.
"Bullshit." Countered the human Mage with a smirk, getting a snicker in return she quickly joined him in her own squeaky laughter.
"But really, none of us really wanted to go poking around with Highborne artefacts, you know how antsy those elves can get when you touch their stuff?" Trixie the levity in her tone was undercut by the way she visibly wrung her hands in nervousness.
"We don't know what the ancient elves were capable of hiding in their trinkets and the last thing anyone needs is a Night Elf looking at them all disappointed-like." She continued, sheepishly.
"'Tis a shame then, that our 'expert' is suspiciously absent." Menma muttered with half-frown, he stood up, dusting off his trousers as he did so, in one hand he conjured a small flame to warm the stiffness in his joints from kneeling in the snow.
Trixie could only nod, one part confusion one part concern on her pixie-like features.
"Well let's get set up in here, just because I couldn't detect anything off the bat doesn't mean we're working with something harmless here." Menma said as he turned on his heel and left to fetch his equipment.
"I kinda thought you'd just… grab it?"
"It's that kind of thinking that leads to corpses, Trixie my dear." The black haired youth said with a snicker of his own.
That Night; Frostmane Encampment
Night had fallen, the colds winds of Dun Morogh blew with a soft howl, fires were erected just outside the cave to warm the tents near them, and to provide light to those within and without, several of the Explorers League guardsmen patrolled the area with a steely resolve, this was barely a tickle to the dwarves.
Several lanterns were strewn through the cavern as dwarves busily moved about delving deeper and deeper into the hollowed out cavern, with one artefact found they strove onward to seek more and more knowledge within, this appeared to be an ancient receptacle for Highborne arcane lore, that in itself made the mages quiver with excitement, the sheer prospect of learning, indirectly, ancient techniques in his the arcane arts? And then sharing that knowledge unto his people and their allies with smugness none could truly comprehend?
Priceless. Truly priceless.
Within his tent the magical consultant of the expedition studied the artefact they'd recovered, several journals were strewn about, a half finished meal of delicious dwarven soup.
Pumpkin, pork, and hops, not only was it filling, it got ya good and fucked up.
It helped that Trixie was much more used to such meals and had more tolerance, because she unintentionally kept him more lucid just by being there.
Though it was indeed one of the better meals he'd had for a while, he was drawn to an almost obsessive extent to the necklace they'd uncovered, studying the ancient ruby yielded much, he could taste the old magic the permeate from it, the old whispers of arcane knowledge just waiting to be uncovered and tapped into.
Menma was looking over the necklace under one of the many arcane aparati he'd brought with him for the occasion, the piece had several miniature runes placed upon it, an elemental warding rune, a preservation rune that was far above anything he'd ever seen before, even an augmentation rune.
Shamelessly he sketched the runic design to patent for his own wealth and gains, yes he'd share magical knowledge at each turn with those who could handle it, but he also had to look out for himself and taking something so - in context of the find at large - minor for himself was hardly devilish.
It appeared though, that whomever had this necklace before was a magus of some kind, which would align with what he'd read of the ancient Highborne.
He'd copied all of the runes from the piece into his journal for usage later, though the results would vary depending on what kind of arcane dusts and what kind of crystals he'd use, but those were thoughts for later, what really intrigued him was that this very stone, was not some mere ruby.
It was a Soul Stone.
A full Soulstone.
"Great scott…" Muttered the Mage with a loose jaw, "TRIXIE!" He shouted, scaring the everloving shit out of the poor gnomish apprentice, but quickly she gained her bearings.
"Really!?"
"Wanna help me see who's inside?" Menma asked, grin still firmly in place, she nodded so quickly he thought she'd take flight somehow, instead he stood and walked towards what appeared to be a small, mobile metal altar, it vaguely resembled a candlestick in appearance, though obviously longer and thicker, with a small gap at the top, incense sticks jutted out from the side, these would place more ambient mana in the air, thickening it up to allow whatever was inside to appear for a short time.
Menma placed the necklace into the small dip atop the instrument, laying it over the focusing iris within, with a snap of his finger the incense began to burn, slowly the air within the tent was filled with a soft blue sheen, Menma breathed deep and blew a ring of sparkling dust.
"Ahh… I can totally understand how the High Elves went crazy for this stuff…" Admitted the Mage with a smile and a chuckle at the poor joke, the soft hum in his blood when he ingested the magic giving him a slight buzz.
A figure slowly began to take shape as Menma used the focusing iris to bring the spectre to bear, a Highborne began to take shape, a male, eyes like bright, glowing silver, his body was otherwise transparent but he wore a flowing, ornate robe with a wide scarf draped over his shoulders, good taste.
"Ah… to see the material world once more, it has been so long." The elf said with a soft smile as he crossed his arms behind his back, looking around the tent.
The elf must have noticed them properly either due to the sheer befuddlement on Menma's face or the small size of the almost shaking-with-glee gnome.
"I didn't think you'd be able to speak our language, old one." Menma admitted to the soul with confusion.
"Truly? 'Tis not a tricky spell to perform, thankfully I had the forethought to imbue it upon my soul vessel, but where are my manners? I am Archmage Yol'Tithian, it is a pleasure to meet you, fellow caster." The Highborne tilted his head politely so Menma did the same.
"I am Menma, of House Prestor. I am a human mage from the city of Stormwind, it is an honour to meet you, Archmage." With a nearly reverent bow from the human the Highborne's eyes shifted to the gnome.
"And who is this adorable creature?" Questioned the elf with a small smile.
"I'm Trixie Blastfuse, a mage of Ironforge!" Greeted the bubbly gnome, "Are you really a Highborne Archmage!? That's amazing, what kind of Magic did you do? Did you teach many people? Were you one of Azshara's nobles!?"
Menma for all his noble control wanted to ask very much the same but had to bite his lip, Trixie has no such filter it seemed, the elf ghost laughed heartily, from what he'd read on the Highborne they were usually quite reserved in nature, as they had all the time in the world to express themselves.
"Forgive our excitement, Archmage, it's not often one gets to speak with an old soul such as yourself." Menma apologised, a flash of rose in his cheeks.
"No need for apologies my new friend, how often does one have a chance such as this? I'm quite excited myself. Simply put, Ms. Blastfuse, I was an Archmage thought typically in charge of the scribes within Suramar, as a scribe my duties lay with putting to paper all of the new magics created within our empire, recording and keeping history, I was less a teacher and more an advisor to those who required me, but yes I was at one point a member of the Queen's court, though during her… debacle, with the demons I found it more prudent to place a safety measure, and create this vessel to house half of my soul, whilst the other half lived on in my body." The Highborne explained succinctly, looking off somewhat, as though remembering it all playing out before his eyes.
"Hmm…" Menma pondered for a moment, "How dangerous would it be to wear your amulet, Archmage? All the tests I've run have been somewhat inconclusive and my experience with soulstones is passing at best."
It was with some swallowed pride he admitted to himself it may have been a good idea to bring a Warlock on the trip, but he'd die before he admitted it aloud.
"Perfectly safe unless it's cracked, you did check this, I trust?" Menma nodded so the scribe continued, "Then you'll find no grievance from me, you would be doing me quite the favour as I could look into the world through your eyes, and if you wish it, as a trade I'd happily teach you a few tricks."
Menma swallowed the caution that was caught in his throat, dark spirits were easy to pick out, this was a fragment of a good man, a wise man, a man who had dedicated his life to the arcane craft, and a mere fragment could not possess a full soul, no matter how powerful.
"We've a deal, Archscribe." Menma said with a firm nod as he offered his hand to the spectre, a mere showing of trust, the spectre smiled broadly, his ghostly hand 'clasping' onto the younger magus' hand.
"Please, call me Yol. All of my friends did." With that said, the spirit dispersed and the incense ran cold, Menma plucked the amulet from its resting place above the iris.
"I'll trust him." Menma said firmly, to himself and to Trixie. "But if I seem off, or I start talking elven without letting you know ahead of time, shoot me in the back." The smaller mage nodded, gulping thickly as her more experienced superior pulled the amulet around his neck and let it rest over his beating heart.
Menma felt an odd tingling sensation all over his body as the object bound itself to his soul, the runes affixing themselves to his magical flow in order to begin functioning, Menma rolled his shoulders somewhat.
"Not entirely unpleasant." Menma mumbled to himself as he fiddled with the amulet a little, "All clear Trixie, you may return your tent. I'll write up everything that happened tonight." Trixie dizzily left the room, Menma sat in his chair as Yol appeared once more.
This time there was colour on his form, it was like he was flesh and blood before him. Silver hair cascaded down the man's back, bright mage-blue eyes looked at the human with mirth visible dancing in their glow, his skin had that off-blue colour all Highborne boasted, his robe was a rich purple in colour with brilliant gold accents, visible enchanted to a ridiculous degree.
His scarf was elaborately decorated like a tapestry, it depicted ancient, troll looking creatures gathered underground, then a great well of power, possibly the Well of Eternity, then a silver woman seemingly rising from the well, and within three pictures the trolls changed from their original form to that of the Night Elves.
This single scarf revealed more to him about the Night Elves than any of his studies on them had, the idea that the creatures known for the elegance and intelligence originated from trolls was both amazing and incredibly amusing.
"Ah, I see you've an eye for history. Yes this little number was created by my apprentice as a gift during her ascendance to the station of scribe, rather quaint isn't it? The greatest empire to ever walk Azeroth was once a group of grumpy cave trolls." If this fact ever bothered Yol'Tithian, it appeared it didn't any longer, because the amusement of that statement echoed into Menma.
"Well… shall we begin talking about magic?" Menma asked, leaning forward behind steepled fingers.
"That sounds like a rather good idea, I'd almost be inclined to call it a great idea. So, young… human? Yes, human. Tell me how it is you mold the greatest power on Azeroth."
Two Weeks Later; Frostmane Encampment
Menma paced back and forth as he eyed the items laid out on the table before him, Yol was almost giddy over their recovery, "This is my old staff! Marvelous condition, I really must thank Illidan for his assistance in fortifying it against the ages… and my sisters broach, I thought this lost! I know not where this dagger came from but it looks familiar enough! Marvelous indeed!"
Yol'Tithian had proved himself a trusted ally over the short time they'd been bound together, a prime consultant on magical practices, along with an amazing tutor for the young magus, Menma found a kinship with the older man he'd not found in any of his peers, someone who truly wanted to test the very limits of the world around them, it just happened the Yol had more experience in this matter.
The gushing of the Highborne Archscribe was rather endearing, if only slightly grating. Menma looked at the staff, a simple oaken wood with a sharp end, capped with what appeared to be mythril, the head of the staff held a dark red crystal clasped by vines shoot up under it.
The broach appeared to be an onyx spider with a golden clasp, rather ornate in nature and with a faint magical presence but nothing overtly interesting at first glance.
The dagger was a crescent shaped blade that reflected moonlight to give it a silvery sheen, it hummed softly whenever it was swung, the pommel held a sapphire-like gem whilst the hilt was wrapped in thick white leather.
"Anything you want to do with these items, Yol?" Menma questioned as the elf was so pleased to find them.
"Well it'd be rather fitting that my new friend hold my staff for me, the broach holds a charm on it as my sister was quite fond of spiders, should you encounter any they'll be completely passive to you, the dagger appears to be a moonblade, only Queen Azshara's assassins would carry such blades, I haven't the foggiest how it ended up where I did." Admitted Yol, "Take them, I've no use for them without a body, and I doubt your friends around here could handle the power within anything but the broach."
"How do you mean?" Menma questioned, a queer look on his face as the statement registered.
"Well from what I've seen, your enchantments are soft compared to ours, the binding of an object to a Soul is no simple process, you give a little and you take a little, so does the item in question. Whereas enchantments from my ages become intertwined with the wielder, removing the item through force could be incredibly detrimental. It was considered a barbarous crime in my days to even lay a hand on another casters prized items." Informed Yol'Tithian with a shrug.
"Remind me to covet them closely then." Menma asked with a chuckle as he held plucked the staff off the table and allowed it to begin resonating with him, "Any little tricks this has?"
"Of course!" Yol said, as if offended, "This is my staff of that I'd crafted after taking up the title of Archmage, I warn you though it does have quite the kick to it and given your preclusion to cast with your hands instead of a staff it will take some getting used to."
"Good to know… maybe with it I can finally perfect my Meteor Storm." Menma admitted as his hand tingled, the staff seemed to create the same kind of hum that ingesting mana did in his bones. It was quite pleasant to hold it.
"Oh indeed, though I'm sure together we can concoct more than mere meteors, how's your Arcane Barrage?" Questioned Yol.
"It's alright, I suppose. Not exactly my forte." Menma admitted with a slight shrug.
"In my day, casting a meagre Arcane Barrage through my staff would duplicate the spell four-fold." Informed the elder caster, "Its uses are immense when employed properly."
"My word… You know, I haven't properly expressed my gratitude for your cooperation, Yol'Tithian. So allow me to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart you are a true help to me, and have been a wonderful companion these past few weeks." Menma placed a hand over his heart and bowed at the hip.
Yol smiled brightly a placed a hand on the younger casters shoulder, "It is my utmost pleasure to to do, young one. It is most rewarding to swap theories and ideas with those of the common era."
"Any inkling to visit your descendants?" Menma questioned suddenly, only just now did this occur to him.
"I suppose it would be nice to see how those hippies are getting on, from what I've managed to glean my peers were thrown away by the Kaldorei." Yol visibly rolled his eyes at the idea, a slight air of tension sprouted from his words.
"I've never really been a fan myself, I've always been interested as them on paper, but the few Kaldorei I've met are usually dicks." Menma informed what little tension grew bubbled away with Yol's laughter.
"Such crassness! Your speech patterns are so strange to me." Yol admitted with a small fondness in his smile.
The sound of leather flaps being thrown open followed Agatha's entrance into Menma's tent, the young magus turned to greet the dwarven woman only to be slugged in the leg.
"Oof! Light damn it woman what's your problem!?" Menma demanded sharply as he groused.
"Good, yer still all there boyo. Hear' you bloody well chattin' in 'ere to the air too many times tah count recently." Agatha rumbled like a grumpy bear, a small, blue eyed bear with big boobs.
"Well that is a rather strange image isn't it." Yol said thoughtfully, off to Menma's side.
"It's called research you hyper-aggressive walking keg!" Menma snapped sharply, getting a cheeky grin in return, "If I didn't have Yol'Tithian to consult on these items we'd be here for months! Sorry if the intricacies of magic escape your narrow world view but I'm not, 'taking to the air' I'm speaking with the spirit of living history!"
"A noble pursuit, lad!" Another voice joined them, this being a fellow human, though he had the distinctive dwarven accent.
His name was Elijah Ironstride, he was currently studying under Tomli Majellas - the expedition leader - Elijah had short blond hair and doe brown eyes, his skin was pale - rightly so considering his environment - he wore thick bear furs over his uniform, thick leather boots trudging against the snow with ease.
"Speakin' of history, is there much progress with this week's haul?" Elijah questioned with a grin, his accent thick despite growing up with human parents.
"Indeed, this staff was Yol's able to amplify magic to a devastating degree. The applications of such an object is astounding, the broach is of sentimental value really but it does have a pacification enchantment on it directed towards arachnids, finally this knife appears to be a 'Moonblade' used by Queen Ashzara's assassins. It seems to warp the air around it, I suspect some kind of 'Blink' enchantment on it, but I've yet to test it." Menma informed, getting a surprised look from the younger man at the mention of such a deadly blade.
"Truly? How intriguing, and here I thought the Queen was all about flowers and bunnies, or at least… that's how she was supposed to appear." Young Elijah frowned, "I've not found myself overly fond of this dig, truth be told… I feel so out of place with all these elven artefacts."
"Nothing easy was ever worth much." Menma said simply.
"Excep' 'ookers. Bloody expensive them." Agatha said abruptly.
Menma choked on his breath and Elijah burst out laughing, Agatha just stood there like the cat that caught the canary.
Ironforge; One Month Later
The dig had ended well enough, the ruins were brought back for study, that which could not be moved was sketched out with charcoal and paper. All in all no more true relics of practical use were recovered, and the various - expectant - stares of the Ironforge dwarves for Menma to leave those he carried on his person went ignored by the young mage.
It was only after explaining the soulbinding process he'd undergone to 'keep them safe' that they left him the bloody hell alone, the knife and the broach remained though, as he had no real use for them, along with copies of his notes.
After several hours of discussion the Explorers League had weighed the pros and cons - given the thorough written reports of the items in question and the summoning of the spirit who owned them - they begrudgingly let the mage off to do more research on the applications of ancient knowledge hidden within that was only of any use to a magic user.
Though that did come with the stipulation of taking Trixie as a formal student, something Menma didn't really mind, as having a tiny partner to come on stupid adventures with him whilst he studied the finer points of magical manipulation was nothing if not useful.
It was when Agatha decided to 'visit' Stormwind for a time that he took minor umbrage with - given her penchant for making him feel foolish - but nevertheless she was an adult and he wouldn't rebuke her travel habits.
No matter how much he wished to.
Menma swung into the merchant's district on a whim, he wanted to acquire a few things before leaving - a few spools of spider silk and perhaps some mageweave - but mostly he just wanted to have a sit down a hearty meal before returning to Stormwind.
Trixie sat in front of him, eyeing the broach that was clasped onto his scarf whilst his staff sat between his legs, leaning on his shoulders, "Uh, Teacher."
"Menma. Don't bother with Teacher, the last month and a bit of work has worked for our grace period of formality, Trixie.." Menma rebuked with a wave of his hand, getting a small smile in return.
Agatha snorted from her seat, probably some filthy thought floating about her head.
"What are we gonna do next?" Trixie questioned, big eyes looking up at him with unrestrained curiosity.
"Returning to Stormwind, after that I was thinking of investigating a few things in Duskwood, hopefully I'll be able to make some headway with a few things there." Menma informed with an idle look to the ceiling of the Inn.
"I'm curious, what exactly do you intend to find?" Questioned Yol, as he stood at the head of the table, Menma looked to him - which did not go unnoticed by the other two - "Something of merit? Or idle curiosity?"
"Last I heard there was an infestation of undead at the Raven Hill Cemetery, in Duskwood. The Night's Watch - the local militia - is spread thin, and the Stormwind military is off doing campaign after campaign against the Horde forces. The poor fools are too stubborn to leave, that being said I can admire their hardiness in the face of adversity." Menma informed the spirit, getting a vague noise of enlightenment.
"Ahh, I see. It will be good work we do then, I look forward to it." Yol sat down with a smile and nodded.
"Interestin' choice, lad." Agatha muttered into her pint, "Any reason you wanna dig around in a graveyard though?"
"If it hastens the downfall of the undead, I'm more than happy to participate." Menma said simply, Trixie sparkled with admiration at that, "And it's not unlike I do so without reward, if exterminating an orcish incursion in Redridge is worth three hundred gold to the King, I imagine I can get a bit more to remove some undead in Duskwood."
Trixie apparently thought his ideals to be purely altruistic, but it seemed after a quick internal struggle she saw his position, "I suppose we've gotta make a living."
The gnome spoke more to herself than him, but he responded regardless.
"In the perfect world I'd wander about getting only as much as I need before moving from place to place, researching, but magic is both the poors man's trade, and the most expensive." Menma said with a slightly forlorn look in his eyes.
"I guess." The littlest one said with a small frown of her own.
"Buck up ye surly kids, save yer grumblin' for the dead." The two mages smirked at one another at Agatha's indictment.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night." The elder mage responded with a grin, taking a bite from his leg of boar and chasing it with ale, "I could just be waiting to lure a young nubile mage into the woods to burn things with her."
"That is rather fun." Yol admitted idly, laughing quietly to himself.
"Hoo-ooh! I always knew your passions burned for more than arson." Agatha teased with a hearty chuckle.
Sometimes it amazed him how short-term friends like Agatha could be so incredibly comfortable with him, the Lady of his house told him he had a 'natural charisma' Menma wasn't so sure but times that the one in the inn that night made him believe in it.
Lady Prestor would have told him; lull them all into a false sense of security, but remember that a truly powerful being, stands atop the spires of victory alone.
That was probably the lesson that stuck most over the years.
And yet even with those lessons, even with the idea that at the end of it all it'd be him standing up top, people still were drawn in.
It made him wonder.
"Right, well I'm gonna go to bed. I'll see you both in the morning." Menma said simply, downing the remainder of his drink and leaving the table.
"You barely touched your dinner!" Trixie called out, Menma looked at her in shock, three pork-steaks and a leg was barely!?
"What do they feed you guys around here?" He asked aloud, but shook it off, "I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning."
"Ah come now, that was quite fun why stop now my friend?" Yol'Tithian questioned idly as the youth sat upon the end of the rented bed, looking at the wall in contemplation.
"Because sustaining you and conversing is tiring.." Menma replied simply as he begun fishing through his pouches.
"Truly? But your reserves have barely, dipped."
"I'm a shut in by nature, comes with how I was raised. I've not had any real time to myself in a month and a half." Menma mumbled in explanation.
"Hmm, interesting. I've not met many like you, who showboat with such grandeur."
"Lady Prestor told me that, 'If one cannot be noble, one my pretend to be noble.' Basically, fake it 'till you make it. If I present myself a certain way people believe it, eventually I managed to convince myself ." Menma huffed out a thick breath as he sat down on his bed and sighed into his hands.
"Quite the mouthful." Yol admitted as he began walking towards the younger magus, intent on returning to the amulet for now, "Very well though, I'll not continue down this path for the moment, rest well my young friend."
"Thanks, Yol." Menma said with a small smile and kicked off his boots.
Stormwind; Prestor House
After taking the tram Menma and Trixie ended up in the noble section of the city. And in doing so was given the impromptu meeting with the one and only, Lady Prestor.
Lady Katrana Prestor was enjoying some tea as the sun began to rise into the sky, the sky was clear and the air was crisp, a small frown marred her face. Her 'child' had single-handedly ripped apart the incursion of her brother's forces encroaching upon Redridge, the little Mage proved to be incredibly power and resourceful, but he was slowly becoming more a hindrance than a use.
Katrana calmed herself though, it was due to the limited influence she had or exerted over the young man, he'd never really grown too terribly attached to her, which was fair to some extent he was already a boy grown by the time she'd come into his life, and very bullheaded at that.
Probably had something to do with the annoying woman of a mother he had in Lordaeron, Kushina Uzumaki. A redheaded mother always guaranteed a brat, or so the saying went.
The woman was as headstrong as an ox, and her husband ugh that man was far too saccharine sweet for his own good.
Katrana set her tea down and sighed to herself, between manipulating Varian, holding sway over Bolvar, and keeping little Anduin oblivious, her days were rather stressful. How she'd like a small time away from the scheming, which in itself that call for reprieve was almost heretical in thought, Black Dragons did not shy away from scheming, they were always prepared to play the long game.
Perhaps it was being around these humans for so long? They'd made her sluggish, impatient.
A sudden burst of noise down stairs drew her thoughts away from her own minor begrudgments as heavy boot steps began trudging through her house, her room, towards her balcony.
Out of her home was her 'child', the little creature whom had consumed her thoughts for a few minutes now, "Hello my Lady, I've come to visit."
"What are you doing here, child?" She demanded a slight confused, with narrowed eyes.
"Thought I'd come say hi... hi." And with the grace of a thousand dancers, he said with a strangled noise coming from his throat, he always been particularly vulnerable to her rather draconian gaze.
Probably over-exposure.
"I see… well come in then, take off your shoes their no doubt filthy, and introduce me to this little friend of yours." With that the woman walked into the upper-crust home and the various servants around the house busied themselves.
It also probably didn't help that something about the boy always got her hackles up, something that made her very blood alight with fire whenever he made even the slightest transgression, usually she'd cool her head and think clearly, but it seemed her day would start on the left foot.
Menma, with his obscenely long boots tripped loudly at her doorstep, shattering Trixies illusion of his incredible poise.
"Foolish boy." Prestor said fondly, though a familiar scent did proceed him. "Ancient Magicks…" older than even she, upon further inspection it seemed to hover over her boy's body like a fine mist but originated from his staff.
"How incredibly curious…" Reptilian eyes gazed over the young mage hungrily.
End.
Hopefully you enjoy this re-write, as previously it was complete trash.
Raxychaz!