The Elixir

~Scour

"I'm not impressed."

The five of them stare skeptically at the Warlord's sigil, at the very end of the journal. It's pure black, with a strange symbol in the middle. Founders only know what it represents. It's a weird sort of squiggle, looking like an inky talon. Owain swallows, feeling as though he's swallowing something slimy and thick. He still is trying to decipher why he even goes anywhere with Derald, because lately, where Derald Pellefard goes, it's normally with Xara. And while Owain is fond of Xara now, he can't deny that she lures danger wherever she ventures.

Derald pouts. "I expected more from the most evil person in all of Ruxnorth." Vieva agrees with Derald and Xara, by a nod of her head.

"Don't tempt fate." Owain hisses to his roommate. Sometimes-okay, a lot of times-Owain can't help but wonder whether Derald just ignores his common sense, for the sake of adrenaline.

Lysabel lazily allows the potted plant beside her bed to curl around her wrist gently, snaking like veins up her bony arm. She hasn't once participated in the conversation and Owain can't help but wonder if something's wrong. At the door, when he and Derald had come in, she smiled, but it had been a strange smile; there had been something almost...sinister in Lysabel's normally bright green eyes. The jade of her eyes had somehow turned into a shadowy, viper green. Somehow, Owain seems to be the only one to notice.

"I agree. With the other Founders, you can obviously tell what their sigils represent." Xara says, closing the book with a slight frown. "Like Nessira Ashfall's, whose sigil is a flame."

Other than the Runemore brothers, three other Founders had existed. Nessira Ashfall, the first Arcane, Kaius Whitevale, the first Gaia, and Cynrad Mistwater, the first Tsunami. It's unclear if the three of them had kept journals as well, but they didn't bother to hide themselves. Even 100 years after their death, they are well-loved and adored.

"Remind me why we're looking at this?" Lysabel drawls, holding her hand spread so the plant could buff her nails.

Xara looks up briefly, her forehead creasing. Clearly, he isn't the only one who's noticed Lysabel's out of character behavior.

"We need to gather as much information as we can, Lys," says Xara slowly. "And considering you've done the least amount of work, you can't comment."

Lysabel's lips stretch into a smile, baring her teeth as she does.

"Actually, I can do whatever I want." Lysabel slides off the bed, stretching with a content sigh. "And what I want right now is some food." She salutes them. "Later, losers."

She sashays out of the room without another glance. The four of them are silent, just staring out the door in astonishment.

Owain turns to Xara, eyes widened. "How long has she been like this?"

Xara puckers her lips to the side. "Ever since she checked out the black leaf two days ago."

Derald leans against Vieva's pristine bed, stretching out completely. He rests his hands behind his head.

"Do you think it has something to do with the leaf?" he offers, nestling into the bed.

"That's ridiculous." Vieva snaps her fingers at him indignantly. "And get your disgusting self off my bed."

"Make me, Bestel."

Vieva's eyes glow like smoldering embers. Small bursts of flame appear on her palms, crackling almost in excitement. "I'm more than happy to."

Derald hastily hops off.

Vieva smirks.

Xara sighs again, then slams the book shut. Owain starts lightly, dragging himself out of his thoughts.