Fifth Night. Part 2.
Alexander visits Isabelle at the University of Santa Maria, looking for her results on the arcane symbols adorning the Mateo's pouch.
Wednesday. 10h30pm. The Library. University of Santa Maria. University District.
The night before last, Alexander told Isabelle that he would stop by the day after - which would be yesterday, and he could not. So there he was, entering the library and looking for the rising academic superstar - he'd left some very important arcane sygils for her to reference and translate for him.
Let's see if this scene hold up - I rolled a 1, which means it's an altered scene. Let's roll: 4 - Increase an Activity. Well, I'd expect Isabelle to be a bit worried, but maybe she's extremely worried about Kane, because there was a hint of something dangerous in the sygils he copied for her?
Question: is that it? 50/50. 27. Yes. Ok, then that's it.
And, roughly, what was the meaning behind the symbols on the pouch? I'll roll for action and descriptor: 30, 51: Deny Leadership; 27, 32 - Emotionally Festive.
They were symbols designed to mask and contain the power and the traces of arcane energies in the relic that were inside the pouch. They also generated illusions, masking the true nature of the item from those who would open the pouch without authorization. Isabelle found the symbols in a mix of varied arcane traditions.
She'll also pester Kane with questions and concerns, but he'll be evasive - respectful, but evasive. He'll chat a bit about the symbols, their origins and traditions, but will quickly excuse himself and leave - it's a dangerous world, Isabelle, and somethings you're better off without knowing. I'll see you soon, kid.
The library's stone facade loomed under Santa Maria’s thick veil of mist, its gothic silhouette sharply outlined by the dim glow of amber streetlights. The air carried the scent of damp pages and cold stone, mingled with the faint, metallic tang of tension. Alexander Kane pushed open the heavy oak doors, their ancient hinges groaning in protest, and stepped into the haven of knowledge. Inside, the library’s grandeur stretched before him—a cathedral of intellect, its towering shelves brimming with the accumulated wisdom and secrets of centuries.
The quiet hum of fluorescent lights flickered faintly, casting uneven shadows over the rows of books. The space was sparsely populated, the few late-night academics engrossed in their solitary pursuits. Kane’s boots echoed against the polished marble floor as he strode towards a familiar alcove tucked beneath a grand stained-glass window depicting a serpent coiled around an open book. The vibrant blues and greens glowed faintly in the dim light, an unspoken promise of revelation.
Isabelle Grayson sat at her usual table, the rising academic star lost in her own whirlwind of thoughts. Her fingers drummed against an open tome, the other hand gripping a pen poised above a journal cluttered with notes and diagrams. Her dark hair, usually tied back with precision, was disheveled—a sign of hours spent immersed in arcane puzzles. But it was her face that caught Kane’s attention—a mixture of worry and exhaustion etched into her features.
She looked up sharply at the sound of his approach, her gray eyes locking onto his. Relief flickered across her expression, quickly replaced by something closer to alarm. She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “Kane,” she said, her voice low but urgent. “You’re late. And—are you alright?”
Kane offered a faint, wry smile, his calm demeanor belying the weight of his thoughts. “I’m fine, Isabelle. My apologies for yesterday. Something came up.” His tone was even, measured, as always.
But Isabelle wasn’t placated. “You disappeared after leaving me with those symbols—symbols that, by the way, are far more dangerous than you let on. Do you have any idea—” Her words tumbled out in a rush, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself and glanced around at the others in the library. She gestured for him to sit, pulling her chair closer and lowering her voice to an urgent whisper. “Do you have any idea what they’re meant to do?”
Kane remained standing, his shadow stretching across the table like a shroud. “I have an idea,” he replied evenly, his dark eyes unreadable.
“They’re not just containment glyphs, Kane.” Isabelle leaned in, her voice tight. “They’re a blend of traditions—ancient, obscure ones—and their purpose is more intricate than masking energy. They twist perceptions, generate illusions, and deny anyone the truth of what’s inside that pouch. Whatever you’re dealing with—it’s powerful and dangerous. What is it?”
Kane leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the edge of the table. “You’ve done excellent work, Isabelle,” he said, his voice carrying a weight of both praise and warning. “Your insight is sharper than most. But I need you to trust me when I say that knowing too much about this—about it—is a risk you don’t want to take.”
Her brows knit together, her frustration palpable. “You’re asking me to work blind, Kane. To trust you when you won’t even tell me what I’m helping with. That’s not fair.”
He straightened, the faintest hint of regret flickering in his gaze. “Fair or not, it’s the way it has to be. This world—our world—is dangerous enough as it is. Some things are better left unknown, Isabelle. Safer.”
She stood as he moved to leave, her voice soft but firm. “You can’t keep shielding me from everything, Kane. I’m not a child.”
He turned back, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re not a child, no. But you’re still someone worth protecting. I’ll see you soon, kid.”
And with that, he was gone, his coat trailing behind him as the heavy doors closed with a resounding finality. Isabelle watched his shadow disappear into the mist, her unease settling heavily in the silence he left behind. The table, scattered with symbols and translations, seemed to hum with residual energy, the promise of something both profound and perilous lingering in the air.