#* main

[calperna]

her face is tipped upwards to the endless expanse of sky as she stands with hands planted on the low stone ridge of the upper balcony. perhaps sky is the wrong word for this place, this odd slip of fade that does not feel like solid ground but does not feel like where her mind drifts when she is asleep.

"this cannot truly be the fade," calpernia speaks abruptly as she turns her head but slightly - only enough to glance at her strange company from the corner of her eye, "there are too many of us mages here. while i can speak only for myself, it feels ... odd, that none have succumbed to a demon yet, and their temptations would be stronger were we fully in the fade." she speaks with a certainty she does not have. it is sheer practice in the art of never appearing unsure that the doubt is kept fully from her voice.

@mistakenmessiah

[vanshng]

“saying DON’T ASK probably isn’t gonna fly, huh?” @foxflew​

[panthrra]

         ❛  you dont  happen to have       ❜  the breath hangs heavy on her lips - her hands braced on her knees for support as she greedily heaves in the fresh morning air. sprinting sucks - why was she trying to up her limit again ?    ❛  any tips on how to increase your stamina without having to actually work for it, would you senpai ?  ❜   / @lediablest​  ♡´d

[calperna]

were she more tender-hearted, sharing a space with a former enemy would be awkward. calpernia can envision a world wherein she would be quickly departing the room once the inquisitor entered - averting her eyes or quickly entering conversation with one of the others in an effort to avoid having to speak to her. luckily she is not ; she will not be driven away simply because the woman who has entered the kitchen once held calpernia's life in her very hands, thank you very much.

"inquisitor," calpernia's voice is as clear and even as always as she speaks up from the spot she has taken residence in at the corner of the room, "there is still hot water if you have come seeking such." a cup of tea is cradled in her hands and a map sprawled on the low table before her, marked in scrawling handwriting and red ink. the words are not a friendly gesture - maker forbid she is friendly - but it is not hostile. calpernia should get points for that.

@keepslore

[calperna]

the cobbled swan is quiet in an unnatural way ; the usual buzz of chat, the sound of music being played - all dead and buried. it can only mean one thing, really ... that it has been unnaturally cleared. calpernia curses that she had not noticed until the barkeep had slid out from behind the bar that she was mostly alone. mostly. "inquisitor," calpernia greets without turning, "i did not know you had intended a meeting with rook. if they are who you seek, i am quite sorry to report that your intel has failed you. i am the only one here."

@prophetries

[calperna]

if there is one thing calpernia is able to be certain of in this world, it is that he shares her rage. the others do not. even those who followed her back here, who have been by her side since she ripped herself from the jaws of corypheus, no longer seem to understand the anger that is always seething just below her skin - the fire of it blazing eternal in the pit of her stomach. fenris does. there is a reason he knows where her apartment in here, and why her wards do not tear him asunder should he enter. "i am going to murder them." them in this tone generally means some other member of shadow dragon leadership, and she never truly has, "i am being told to take a break merely because the little blood mage whelp of some magister did not make it home in one piece the other night." there is no proof it was her who made sure the disgusting worm of a young man had not finished his trek from the docks to his manor home - calpernia had made sure of it.

@dracaeons

[calperna]

it is late. it must be - everyone is in bed, it seems, the lighthouse eerie in it's silence. calpernia had only seen the caretaker in her trek from the library to the kitchen and she, as always, had done her best to ignore them. the spirit sets her teeth on edge. the intention this evening is to be quiet as she rifles through the cabinets in search of ... maker, who knows. something to take the edge of exhaustion off. coffee would be best, but the machine seems owned by others and she is not planning on using it and causing some manner of issue that would only result in a headache later. a bag of some vegetable she scarcely recognizes falls and calpernia curses under her breath as she moves to pick it up and stumbles in her only half-awake state, jostling the table and sucking a sharp breath in. all these years later and the phantom pains of her confrontation with corypheus remain. there is a sound of a door and she curses again, waving with one hand at whoever approaches.

"go to bed," she hisses, face hidden by loose blonde waves, "and leave me in peace."

@spitecrow