Scene #2 from PrologueMature


“No doubt Luce suspects us.  Are you not worried that  he may attempt to foil our plans, Lady Regent?” Her apprentice asks calmly as they, instead of approaching the table in which the Benandanti sit, walk to towards the barista to order their own beverages. 

She laughs a quiet, sinister sort of laugh, barely audible yet still enough to make her consort regret his question, “That dolt obsessively clings to tradition and letting the divines handle whatever may come his way. How else do you think we were able to force them out so easily as we did all those centuries ago? Don’t worry, the imbecile will remain silent and simply watch as his world falls down around him. This time the destruction, I pray, will be fatal for him,” He too remains silent, not wanting to push his mistress further. 

They draw near towards the two seated at the table, who immediately stand up in greeting, as to follow proper etiquette. “Presenting,” her envoy begins rushed and quietly, as to not gather attention from other café inhabitants, “The purveyor of Wioren, Lady Regent Maga-,” 

“Purveyor for  only a little while longer, keep in mind.” Luce mutters coyly. Maga gives him a look of ferocity, but then cools, only smiling in return.

“Darios dear, let us put aside the introductions, me and, dear Luce, go back quite a ways.” They all sit down, the two younger men glaring at each other as they always had. It isn't just because they are from opposing covens, it was deeper than that. Its more a genuine distaste for one another as practitioners, as people. 

“I agree, let’s get to the point of this meeting.” Maga lifts her hand towards Darios, who hands her the case file, “Yes, it would seem that the target has been discovered yet again. Her location has been documented in London of all places. A runaway little bugger this time,” 

“Little Bugger isn’t the best term for someone who may very well be our savior,” Luce says sternly. 

“If it even is her. We have been wrong before.”

“With the amount of spy Stregas on either side, the power that exists in each coven, let alone the technology that is now at our disposal. There is no room for error, Maga. It is definitely La Prescelto” Luce takes a sip of his coffee and inspects the case file, oddly smirking.

“Is there something amusing about the target?” Maga asks bitterly.

“Oh no, not at all. I just am eager to get this all started. And finished.” He smiles artificially. She knows a lie when she sees one. More to the point, she wishes she could just grab him by the throat and end him once and for all. For centuries she has tried curses, incantations, and all types of sorted, dark magick, but he happens to be just as old if not older than her, and knows all the tricks. Better yet, he knows how to counteract them. 

“Do both covens comprehend the regulations?” Its Arsenio’s turn to speak, “As is tradition, there will be no displays of power or magick of any kind to influence the target’s choice or their overall mindset. They must come and choose of their own, absolute free will. Also, neither envoy may attack, or destroy, the other.” He has rehearsed his small part over and over again, yet it sounds as awkward as the day he had first read it off the Oracle’s parchment. 

They are all in agreement. “Well, then it’s settled. I'll be sending Darios, of course. And you will be sending Arsenio, I take it?”

“He is, after all, the one who is accompanying me,” Luce growls. Things seem to be getting increasingly tense, and hostile. Darios trusts they know that they are not permitted to make public displays of their power, especially when they are so close to acquiring the target. Yet, he is also aware of how potent centuries of hatred can be. 

“Well,” Darios starts cautiously, “If we all understand how to proceed, I believe we should part ways before our tempers get the best of us,” 

When he spoke, everyone looks at startled. Both Maga, and Luce regain their composure. She's the first to rise, leading all the others to do the same. “Then its time to leave. May the target be the one to end all this.” Without another word from any of the party, they go their separate paths. 

The End

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