that the devious machinations of Mervidia were beyond her existing wiles. Yet, how will I learn, unless given the opportunity to be tested? Marin thought angrily. She sat back in her small fishbone chair, next to her half-brother, who was reclining in an identical seat to her own. Marin scowled at the rows of books upon the carved stone shelves that lined all four of the square office’s walls. It was an impressive collection, considering each volume and its interior were made from flayed merwin skin, its text tattooed with enchanted octopus ink onto the magically preserved pages.
The room tangibly throbbed with power. It always caused Marin to pause upon entering, until she could center herself, acclimating to the thrum of mystical energies that constantly bombarded her body. Sadly, such sensations were lost on her inane ungifted brother, who as usual had just swum right on in and was wholly unaffected. Marin focused on breathing in that power as she sat in her chair, feeling its little tendrils as they moved in through her hands and down into her chest, loving the way they filled her with warmth. If she closed her eyes, Marin could see the lines of the otherworldly mystic coils, light purple and black braiding and unbraiding, churning especially around the books, raw power begging to be tapped.
The archive belonged to her father Uchenna, who was the Domo of House Chimaera. He allowed her to peruse the kalku spell books and historical chronicles on rare occasions, but only under his direct supervision. He had only shown her the tiniest portion of the extensive library, and Marin’s constant requests to see more had become a sore topic between the young kalku and her parents.
Marin dismissed the room’s mystical current, her thoughts turning angry ; she could accidently hurt someone, her rage maliciously manifesting when engaged in simple conversation. Unlike her father, she thought it was best not to channel magic when she was angry. She was just so tired of being treated like a defenseless fry. One day, her father’s book collection would be passed on to her, his only blood heir and the sole child with any magical ability. She had a right to their contents, to the untapped knowledge that should be shared, at least amongst close kin. I am an adult, she thought, tightening her lower tentacles around the chair’s legs, subconsciously wringing the piece of furniture in her frustration. I should be allowed to do as I please and make my own choices.
Uchenna sat behind his murky coral desk in a matching chair. Both were created by his great grandsire’s spell-shaping and further ensorcelled to halt the anthozoans’ development and reproduction. The coral had been grown in place, an ancient bioherm that was bonded to the stone floor and was nearly as old as House Chimaera. Additionally, the furniture was infused with octolaide blood, giving it its dark ruddy color. Other than being shaped for functionality, it had been left mostly to its natural branching state. The chair’s back spread out behind her father’s shoulders, like an octolaide spreading its tentacles, and snaked ominously about him, resembling a massive vertical collar. It made Uchenna look every bit the part of a Merwin domo; regal, sagacious, and deadly.
Uchenna’s tentacles were relaxed and lightly undulated in the room’s subtle currents, genera ted from the narrow vents that dotted the floor of every room in the house, circulating the water and keeping it fresh. Deep in thought, he made no direct movement, just sat with his elbows on the desk holding his chin in his clasped hands. Marin’s mother Odette floated quietly and impassively by her husband’s side, conceding to his right as domo to make the final decisions for House Chimaera.
Marin could tell that the silence was taking its toll on her brother as well; his fidgeting was getting worse. Ebon even looked pale, an impressive feat considering his skin was already bone white. Upon a closer
The room tangibly throbbed with power. It always caused Marin to pause upon entering, until she could center herself, acclimating to the thrum of mystical energies that constantly bombarded her body. Sadly, such sensations were lost on her inane ungifted brother, who as usual had just swum right on in and was wholly unaffected. Marin focused on breathing in that power as she sat in her chair, feeling its little tendrils as they moved in through her hands and down into her chest, loving the way they filled her with warmth. If she closed her eyes, Marin could see the lines of the otherworldly mystic coils, light purple and black braiding and unbraiding, churning especially around the books, raw power begging to be tapped.
The archive belonged to her father Uchenna, who was the Domo of House Chimaera. He allowed her to peruse the kalku spell books and historical chronicles on rare occasions, but only under his direct supervision. He had only shown her the tiniest portion of the extensive library, and Marin’s constant requests to see more had become a sore topic between the young kalku and her parents.
Marin dismissed the room’s mystical current, her thoughts turning angry ; she could accidently hurt someone, her rage maliciously manifesting when engaged in simple conversation. Unlike her father, she thought it was best not to channel magic when she was angry. She was just so tired of being treated like a defenseless fry. One day, her father’s book collection would be passed on to her, his only blood heir and the sole child with any magical ability. She had a right to their contents, to the untapped knowledge that should be shared, at least amongst close kin. I am an adult, she thought, tightening her lower tentacles around the chair’s legs, subconsciously wringing the piece of furniture in her frustration. I should be allowed to do as I please and make my own choices.
Uchenna sat behind his murky coral desk in a matching chair. Both were created by his great grandsire’s spell-shaping and further ensorcelled to halt the anthozoans’ development and reproduction. The coral had been grown in place, an ancient bioherm that was bonded to the stone floor and was nearly as old as House Chimaera. Additionally, the furniture was infused with octolaide blood, giving it its dark ruddy color. Other than being shaped for functionality, it had been left mostly to its natural branching state. The chair’s back spread out behind her father’s shoulders, like an octolaide spreading its tentacles, and snaked ominously about him, resembling a massive vertical collar. It made Uchenna look every bit the part of a Merwin domo; regal, sagacious, and deadly.
Uchenna’s tentacles were relaxed and lightly undulated in the room’s subtle currents, genera ted from the narrow vents that dotted the floor of every room in the house, circulating the water and keeping it fresh. Deep in thought, he made no direct movement, just sat with his elbows on the desk holding his chin in his clasped hands. Marin’s mother Odette floated quietly and impassively by her husband’s side, conceding to his right as domo to make the final decisions for House Chimaera.
Marin could tell that the silence was taking its toll on her brother as well; his fidgeting was getting worse. Ebon even looked pale, an impressive feat considering his skin was already bone white. Upon a closer
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