Inauguration
|
|
Denise stood there, drinking a glass of pumpkin juice for the second time in her life. She still didn't like it, but got a bit used to the taste.
Swallowing the rest of the juice in disdain, she saw an OWL swoop and give her a letter, which had no sender, just a note. Before Denise was even able to read the letter in its entirety, the owl swooped away rapidly and fast.
Is this a joke?“Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words.”
Denise didn't know what to think. Her first instinct told her to throw it in the trash, crumple it up, rip it up... but she didn't. She stared at the note, thinking who it could be.
She left it on her desk. Horrible idea, she just can't stop thinking about it. Is it a secret society? Maybe they do illegal things?
Finally, Denise decided to go there. She armed herself with her wand, pepper spray (Muggle things aren't bad, and it works), and even a potion knife, the only knife she owned. She wore her dark winter coat, trying to hide her face and expression, and snuck out, walking slowly and trying not to be noticeable, to become a shadow itself.
But where was it? If corridors are thin, it likely means that they were forgotten. Denise once explored the castle before and knew of musty, forgotten corridors on the first floor.
As she entered the corridor, it was dusty, making Denise almost sneeze. It was eerie, making Denise feel like that letter had more ulterior and mysterious motives.
There it was, the abandoned classroom, likely what the note was referring to.
Ironically, there were a few students ahead of her, one she recognized from her own house, Zephyr Deakin, but she didn't know anyone else. Apparently, she's not the only one. Curiosity got inside her, and she entered the classroom with the others.
STA [7] | EVA [5] | STR [5] | WIS [7] | ARC [5] | ACC [6]Mentions & OOC Notes:Reducio@Valour Argentum
Sorry about this being pretty late.Will try to finish all my RP's sooner by May.
Inauguration
⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧
♣ Date: 10/02/2026
The mysterious letter Miren had recieved earlier certainly intrigued her to say the least. The world was full of mysteries worth solving and while she intended to delve into them on her own at first, there was no denying that a secret network of this sort might come in handy. Almost like a group of like-minded people tailored specifically to her own needs and wants. It sounded good. Too good, actually. That's why she held onto her usual skepticism untill proven otherwise.
“Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words.”
Her steps, calm and confident, echoed through the corridors of the second floor as she looked around with a keen eye and stoic expression. The letter itself spoke quite clearly. The only problem that could arise was navigating through the enormous castle, which posed much bigger of a challenge than decrypting a message in her opinion. But, once Miren set her mind, nothing could stop her from achieving her goal.
She came to a stop in front of an old door to an abandoned classroom the moment it appeared in her line of sight. This has got to be it. She had no doubts anymore. Not of the location, at least. The only question was, whether or not this invite to the secret society was real. Let's see. With that thought, Miren raised her hand and knocked on the decaying wood a few times before entering.
♣ interractions: @Valour Argentum
Inauguration
Archer had went through with his duty already; his appearance would merely be a courtesy. Under his influence, a web of underground communication would spread — he need not be a postboy to stand at the centre of its cogs. He moved in the shadows, worked from behind, observed and noted. Today, they had gathered thinkers, and more dangerously, reckless thinkers. He would be the root of their danger.
In a cause of infamy, Archer had not sworn loyalty to his own cult. Just as each mind was a disposable gear, the society was a wave that came and went, lapping against an indifferent, yet steady shoreline. He could be a guard dog, but he had the teeth to might his master. He would serve it as long as it would serve him.
Today, his servitude entailed in mere presence.
Archer slipped into the empty classroom with a touch of stealth, and such grace his feline would have been proud of.
His eyes wondered the gathered members with intentional lackadaisicalness. All the faces he had passed had been a touch too familiar, yet a touch too distant, as if they were playing a game of back and forth in a masquerade ball. He did not bother with most of them, save for the casual flick towards de Varenne and a wink offered at a girl whom he could not quite place. Finally, he offered his Regent a nod of respect, before turning away from the crowd.
Swift steps brought him to the centre of the classroom, each fall of his boot clicking against the creaking wooden floor, each rise of his feet a summoning of attention. Not sparing the assembled others with second glances nor second thoughts, he reached the middle desk as if encapsulated in his own world, detached from reality as he set down on the face of the table, marked by bled-in ink stains. He kicked up one foot while the other dangled aimlessly, planting both arms solidly behind him, and leaned back, head cocked just in the degree of irritation. An audacious entrance for someone who was late; a reminder that while Valour ruled, half the reins were still in his hands.
He tipped his head, eyes focused far elsewhere, as if signalling for Argentum to commence the meeting.
He need not be early, for the seed had already been planted, and he was solely present to watch the tree grow.
@Valour Argentum | banner by Adeline Spinks
I am not even singed. My wings are untouched. You use them for everything, except flight.
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Inauguration
vincere aut mori │Marcella, thoughts, Italian
| mars | ☥ MENTIONS — @Valour Argentum |
10.02.2026 — DATE ☥ | |
| mars | ☥ OUTFIT— boo |
208 — WORDCOUNT ☥ | mars |
The wind caressed her face and swept her hair to a side. The child of death sat by the river, her favourite novel in her hand. She had skipped dinner as she did not have much of an appetite. Soon, an owl came and dropped a letter. And before an answer could be found, the bird flew away. Delicate hands unfolded the letter.
“Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words.”
Her eyes lit with a glow as she registered the message. Marcella got up swiftly and grabbed her bag. The letter was clear enough in its meaning. She walked down the forgotten corridors of the first floor, with precisely measured steps, with purpose and confidence. Her mind raced with excitement at the possibilities waiting to occur. A society of like-minded people. A society of people of her kind. A soceity who might understand the child of death. The orbs of emerald gazed down the hallway. She halted before a door which was practically rusted shut. She entered the room. The air was musty and filled with dust. Marcella wriggled her nose. The room had been cleaned beforehand. She looked around at everybody.
The eeriness seized Marcella, embracing her in its hold. Many students, known and unknown, stood before her. Curiosity truly is a mischievous creature.
Inauguration
  
𖦏 THUS SAITH THE LORD 𖦏
𖦏 THUS SAITH THE LORD 𖦏
| .𖦏. |  𖦏 
|
Reducio
ooc note ; please take the liberty of rping reading this letter and interacting with valour/other characters at the meeting. the letter can be found here. you are welcome to choose what you do for this challenge, whether its to spread a rumour, write an exposee on someone, sneak into a forbidden area, roam the halls at night, deface something public at school, etc. creativity is valued and feel free to team up! you may also choose what tarot card you are given, reflecting your character's personality. you should rp leaving this card wherever you choose to complete the challenge. rp this challenge wherever in school it makes sense (not in this thread) and please tag me so I can read your wonderful ideas! once completed, we can host a second meeting and start some fun adventure threads.
if you have not yet rped entering the first meeting, I encourage you to do so and interact with valour/other characters before completing this challenge. feel free to rp arriving before valour! of course, do whatever you'd like - this is just a fun writing hook!
please do not godmod Valour - but feel free to strike up conversation!
if you have not yet rped entering the first meeting, I encourage you to do so and interact with valour/other characters before completing this challenge. feel free to rp arriving before valour! of course, do whatever you'd like - this is just a fun writing hook!
please do not godmod Valour - but feel free to strike up conversation!
Reducio
mentions ; @Archer Duncan ; @Cosima Aurebach-Iori ; @Cecilia Merrick ; @Hana Suzuki ; @Pyce Rotanski ; @Denise Yarbrough ; @Tatiana Contraire ; @Mirada Johnson ; @Camille de Varenne ; @Alex Thompson ; @Lysander Rootmourn ; @Jason Graves ; @Zephyr Deakin ; @Sabrina Lyons ; @Livia Machavariani ; @Natasha Blackwood ; @Natasha Jones ; @Samantha Jones ; @Maisie Fenwick Rose Williams ; @Maisie Gemmell ; @Rosaline Everhart ; @Estella Cain ; @Harmony Grace ; @Lyanna Oak ; @Pamela Graham ; @Nick Jameson ; @Brooke Hunter ; @Kirara Yamauchi ; @Miren Hawthorn ; @Marcella di Angelo ; @Astal Tarovus
Inauguration
Code by Fawkes Chaos I was about to leave the owlery when I saw it. The letter.
Night, before dinner :TIME
x
Written in a clean handwriting, my name. And it wasn't from my dad, I was sure.
I had to wait for my roommates to leave to finally open it.
Inside, a riddle. Easy. Funny.
“Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words.”
The second floor. Maybe one of the abandoned classrooms. Right before dinner. A riddle easy to decode. For me, at least. After all, it had been a long time since I decoded one that was this hard.
But why? Was this some kind of cruel joke? Well, if it was, I decided that it was better to die knowing.
I decided to grab a snack after my last class ended, just in case. I headed to my room and changed my clothes. If this was a joke, well... I decided that I did not want to be seen with the people involved.
I walked through the crowd of people heading already to the great hall, mixing easily with them. No one bats an eye if you don't want them to.
Finally, I made it to the classroom. I quietly opened the door, arriving exactly ten minutes early. Perfect. I sat on one of the desks, hiding myself on the shadows, as I watched the other members arrive. Well, this was going to be fun.
Someone walked in, the door shouted behind them. The leader, I deduced. Great, I was already getting bored. They stood in front of the classroom and, for the next minutes, dedicated to explain what this was supposed to be about.
Well, I was curious now. After all, you don't get an offer like this every other day.
After the meeting seemed to get an end, I stood up and walked towards the chest. I found a letter with my name and placed it inside my pocket. Now wasn't the time to read it.
I left the same way I arrived: In silence. Not seen by anyone. But one thing was for sure now:
This was going to be very, very fun.
Inauguration
| C | date: 10/2/2026 location: Classroom wearing: Outfit Scarf and sunglasses |
abilities: lovely creature dialogue: #396384 mentioned: Open for interactions |
C |
| CV | After knocking upon the door to the abandoned classroom, Camille stepped back to wait, fully expecting someone on the other side to admit him without delay. No one inside seemed particularly inclined to welcome him, leaving him impatiently adjusting the scarf around his head. Perhaps he ought to leave, the boy considered. The entire affair already bordered on ridiculous. Still, before he could actualize the thought, another presence emerged at his side. Several unanswered moments had already passed since his arrival when a girl he did not recognize stood beside him and asked, “May I?” before reaching for the handle herself. So caught up in his own thoughts— each one more unpleasant than the last — that he had not noticed the Hufflepuff approach until she had already intervened. With little else choice than to accommodate her initiative, he took a step back, allowing her to enter first. His gaze lingered on the flash of brown hair as she pushed forward. If that was the clientele, how terrible could this gathering truly be? he reassured himself, though not entirely convincingly, before hesitating only briefly to catch the door and slip in behind her before it shut once more. The moment he entered, he instinctively moved towards the furthest corner, hoping that the shadows and limited visibility would not draw too much attention. Not long after their arrival, the room began to quickly fill up with a large variety of characters. He was not the only one disguised. While most of them were strangers to him, one figure in particular provoked a flicker of recognition when his gaze lingered upon a girl whose face had been buried beneath an excessive arrangement of scarves. Though he couldn’t be certain. And even had he been capable of identifying her by name, openly acknowledging such recognition would have defeated the purpose of his own disguise entirely. Truthfully, the only person present with whom Camille was personally acquainted was the insufferable Slytherin boy Archer. Their polished civility during the Hestridge Gala several months prior had been little more than a mutually tolerated performance, and Camille doubted very much that either of them had left the evening with altered opinions. As difficult as it was, he could hardly allow himself so much as a grimace of distaste behind his sunglasses without risking blowing his cover. Though, admittedly, if there existed any corner of the school in which one might reasonably expect Archer to lurk, it was in shady, secret societies hosted in the shadows of abandoned classrooms. Unfortunately, despite his own modest efforts toward concealment, there appeared to be a glimmer of recognition in Archer’s gaze as his eyes flickered briefly toward Camille. Parfait. Only lifting a fraction from its carved placement, his upper-lip curled. So much for disguise, he thought sourly. Given that the crowd was almost exclusively first years, he had almost entirely ruled out the possibility of Harlan’s involvement. It was only confirmed when the organizer entered, finally revealing themselves. Valour Argentum. Of course, he thought with a mental eye-roll, equal parts amusement and incredulousness. One accidental run-in in the basement was enough exposure to the girl to draw the conclusion that this was entirely in character for her. It would also explain the invitation, even if Camille couldn’t help but wonder, exactly, what in his presentation had suggested an interest in dabbling in organized rule-breaking. Because certainly, what she was suggesting would include breaking several rules. Granted, Camille did not care for the rules per se, given that said rule-breaking served him personally. The French boy was not looking for trouble, he simply didn’t care about anything beyond his own needs and wishes. If trouble accompanied him, so be it. During her speech, Camille remained unbothered, more mesmerized by her stunning appearance than her words. For the time being, he was merely scouting, and had not yet decided this was a place worthy of his time and business. Others appeared more anxious, their movement speaking for itself. The implication of rule breaking, complete commitment, or perhaps the unwavering dare in Valour's gaze was enough to thin the ranks of those who could not stomach pressure. In Camille’s case, the affair at large remained uninteresting, though he supposed—given his track record—that it would be imprudent to ignore the possibility of future utility. A network, if it existed beneath the surface of this, would not be without value. He reckoned that he would find use for it sooner or later. He stayed until the meeting had reached its conclusion, albeit he still reserved some judgement. When the moment came to retrieve the envelope bearing his name, he crossed to the chest and sifted through the scattered letters. Once he found it — and Merlin forbade that anyone was close enough to read over his shoulder — he withdrew to his place before opening it in private. Inside was The Moon, and a challenge written in quiet ink: find a way to Hogsmeade that does not follow any known road. Camille scoffed lightly. That was hardly a challenge. |
CV |
Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny
Inauguration
date: 10th february 2026
time: –:–
location: empty classroom
Upon entering the room, Livia fancied herself a lurker, true to her disguise. With her shoulders turned slightly inwards to mask her height and her posture, she navigated to a wall. As she walked, she ensured the blue scarf covering her face remained in its proper position. She then leant against the wall, the very action almost making her body react with creaky disdain. She was a Machavariani. She was not meant to lean against walls or reduce herself to a cog in a dubious wheel.
She had opted to attend this meeting for information – not to dwindle away at death's door while others machinated the methods of MAPS. She listened, as was respectful, to the group's leader. She did not like the usage of the word demand. Livia would commit, but it would be on her own terms. She wanted information. She wanted the reach of the group. Of course, life consisted of giving and taking, but Livia herself was more inclined towards the latter, even if she recognised one of the club leaders as Mr Duncan, with whom she had duelled. While competent, Mr Duncan’s judgement could not always be trusted – Livia knew all too well that he was often too permissive of miscreants.
She could not tear her gaze from the event’s organiser, even if she had wanted to. She did not recognise them, but their demeanour – sat on a table, legs crossed – suggested that they either had no knowledge of propriety, or, perhaps both worse and more likely, they did not care. Livia did not want to submit to this individual’s whims; it was hardly difficult to sit like a proper young individual. Lack of reverence had always been something that grated on her nerves, jabbing like a chisel against rough, impenetrable stone.
Thus, she had little desire to linger longer than was necessary. She strode to the table, blue scarf fluttering behind her, and her spindly fingers found the fine material of an envelope, the contents of which would appear directed to her. It was better she removed it from this room swiftly, before any less-decorous knave decided to spread her secrets. She then left, the heels of her boots clicking cleanly against the floor. The door swung shut behind her, closing with a thud. She waited until she was tucked beneath her blankets in her dormitory to open it.
Inside was a letter that took her no time at all to comprehend. The challenge she had received was a bit obvious, but one that would be completed with ease: spread a rumour. She already did this with each published issue of the Headliner, and it came to her attention that she could simply create posters to further her agenda. But therein lay the issue of the calling card. Slowly, Livia pulled it from the envelope. Having retrieved it upside down, she squinted at it before realising that was the matter, and slowly rotated it to be legible. XIII. DEATH.
As the girl knew little about the meanings of tarot cards, she only saw the knight, the horse and the white rose of York, which perturbed her, as anyone with reasonable intellect would surely know that the House of York had not survived the Wars of the Roses. Livia’s lips had, inadvertently, set themselves in a line. She discarded the tarot cards, setting it atop her nightstand. To leave it as a calling card would be to claim it, and that was something she would not do.
a note: livia is disguised, but likely still somewhat recognisable for those who know her well. please do not metagame knowing her identity. if we have threaded before, feel free to owl/dm me regarding this.
thread left.
time: –:–
location: empty classroom
roleplaying as livia machavariani
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
Upon entering the room, Livia fancied herself a lurker, true to her disguise. With her shoulders turned slightly inwards to mask her height and her posture, she navigated to a wall. As she walked, she ensured the blue scarf covering her face remained in its proper position. She then leant against the wall, the very action almost making her body react with creaky disdain. She was a Machavariani. She was not meant to lean against walls or reduce herself to a cog in a dubious wheel.
She had opted to attend this meeting for information – not to dwindle away at death's door while others machinated the methods of MAPS. She listened, as was respectful, to the group's leader. She did not like the usage of the word demand. Livia would commit, but it would be on her own terms. She wanted information. She wanted the reach of the group. Of course, life consisted of giving and taking, but Livia herself was more inclined towards the latter, even if she recognised one of the club leaders as Mr Duncan, with whom she had duelled. While competent, Mr Duncan’s judgement could not always be trusted – Livia knew all too well that he was often too permissive of miscreants.
She could not tear her gaze from the event’s organiser, even if she had wanted to. She did not recognise them, but their demeanour – sat on a table, legs crossed – suggested that they either had no knowledge of propriety, or, perhaps both worse and more likely, they did not care. Livia did not want to submit to this individual’s whims; it was hardly difficult to sit like a proper young individual. Lack of reverence had always been something that grated on her nerves, jabbing like a chisel against rough, impenetrable stone.
Thus, she had little desire to linger longer than was necessary. She strode to the table, blue scarf fluttering behind her, and her spindly fingers found the fine material of an envelope, the contents of which would appear directed to her. It was better she removed it from this room swiftly, before any less-decorous knave decided to spread her secrets. She then left, the heels of her boots clicking cleanly against the floor. The door swung shut behind her, closing with a thud. She waited until she was tucked beneath her blankets in her dormitory to open it.
Inside was a letter that took her no time at all to comprehend. The challenge she had received was a bit obvious, but one that would be completed with ease: spread a rumour. She already did this with each published issue of the Headliner, and it came to her attention that she could simply create posters to further her agenda. But therein lay the issue of the calling card. Slowly, Livia pulled it from the envelope. Having retrieved it upside down, she squinted at it before realising that was the matter, and slowly rotated it to be legible. XIII. DEATH.
As the girl knew little about the meanings of tarot cards, she only saw the knight, the horse and the white rose of York, which perturbed her, as anyone with reasonable intellect would surely know that the House of York had not survived the Wars of the Roses. Livia’s lips had, inadvertently, set themselves in a line. She discarded the tarot cards, setting it atop her nightstand. To leave it as a calling card would be to claim it, and that was something she would not do.
a note: livia is disguised, but likely still somewhat recognisable for those who know her well. please do not metagame knowing her identity. if we have threaded before, feel free to owl/dm me regarding this.
thread left.
| [staff] jessamine lancaster even you cannot conquer the sun. | marina alacrán [inpc] her hair is kinda wild and free. |
Inauguration
N.B. ICly, the latter part of these interactions happens after all other members have left, excluding Valour. Please read my post for information on which part could be observed by other members, and which part is reserved for the two of them.
Valour joined him on their thrones, a monarch perched on their desk, with the carelessness of a page, yet the demand of a knight. She sat cross legged, their unassuming regent, bearing her name of sterling silver, a faint smile gracing her lips, just enough for Duncan to notice. They exchanged eye contact, and nods, and a universe that delved beyond pleasantries, suspended in one single grain of sand. The air felt heavier between them, tinted with their shared intimidation, an aura they exuded to the exterior world, back to back. The question held in the breath between them, simply, was who would turn first and stab.
For now, their shared leadership was fuelled by no rivalry but the simple necessity for intelligence. Their bond was one forged in accidental meetings, and strengthened by the fires of curiosity. More than inquisitiveness, more than any desire of knowledge, was a pressing need. Hidden in each stroke of Polytropos’ pen as he scribbled their words in a furious shorthand, disguised in each jagged letter as he noted the arrivals in languid longhand, and left to rot in the space between the pages, where he stopped to smile, a sight more fearful than any threat. They were a restless breed. The wolf does not stop until it attained its meat, damn its hurting legs. The river keeps flowing until it eroded the rocks, damn its tired currents. And these minds, sharpened so bright under the reflection of Hogwarts’ chandeliers, cut with even more ferocity.
So they fell into their own rhythm, and as Valour spoke, Archer wrote, not allowing a word to slip past. Archer raised a brow here or there, but made no comment. Rumours, secrets, buried truths. As others shared glances of skepticism, squirming in their seats of uncushioned wood, Archer merely offered Valour a knowing smile. Denial was the first step in failure.
And soon, their initiates would prove whether they will succeed or fail. Pledging commitment, mere words of a fickle nature, was not good enough for a society requiring of high calibre.With loyalty a concept instantly discarded amongst a group willing to manipulate any other to fulfil their needs on a Tuesday afternoon without batting an eye, any ritual of blood drawing or mantra chanting proved to be of no meaning. Placing immense trust in Valour when they had instructed Archer to wait until their first meeting to discover her plans, the boy had contained the claws of his curiosity, and made no comment as their Regent produced a box featuring neatly placed envelopes. Her composure, her confidence, her command of the crowd — all exemplary. Yet the contents of her speech revealed an unpleasantness in Archer as he scowled.
He, however, decided to save Valour their dignity, choosing to remain quiet as his peers each stepped up to find their names, retrieving a singular flap containing their challenge. Unknown faces and known ones alike, they meant nothing to him. Under the shroud of the society’s secrecy, they were merely their aliases — a privilege they would soon be granted, as soon as they leave a trace of their completion. These faces he would remember, but moreover, he would remember their deeds. After all, it was not names that were engraved into stone, but atrocities. M.A.P.S. would commit some.
As the last of their attendants filed out, there was only one final letter left in the box, and one final name who had not picked out a card. Archer pushed himself off the desk in one fluid jump and strode towards the table. When delicate fingers plucked the last envelope, he unsealed it on the spot, picking out the slip of paper and Rider-Waite-Smith card that accompanied it. He offered Valour a glance before looking at the challenge marked on his slip of paper. To his surprise, it was blank. Slightly dismayed at the oddity, he flipped the paper over to the other side, only the reveal a paper with nothing written on it. Unconvinced, a quick flourish of his wand casted revlio, yet when it was truly confirmed that he was free without any constraints, he offered Valour a grin.
His fingers then flipped to the card. “Tarot cards.” Archer remarked, scrunching up his nose. “Seriously, Valour, I have never been more disappointed in you.” Yet he made no further complaints as he turned over the piece of hard paper.
The Lovers.
Archer smirked as an idea and name immediately entered his mind. A name made vulnerable, worthy of exploitation. A deed he could commit, and receive more benefits than simply a first year’s validation.“You know how to make your games fun, Argentum.”
Tipping his head toward her once more, the same as how he had entered, he bid Valour a polite farewell and, with the utmost casualness, walked out of the door in a newly coronated king’s promenade. He called over his shoulder, “Au revoir.”
@Valour Argentum | banner by Adeline Spinks
I am not even singed. My wings are untouched. You use them for everything, except flight.
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Inauguration
Valour has just given her quite succinct and no-nonsense speech. I noticed that her eyes drifted to a few people and lingered over-long on a few, especially to the boy in one of the seats right next to her. I kept my eye on him and made a note to figure out his role in all of this as soon as I could. Not that I really care who he is to her, an accomplice, co-conspirator or just an attraction she may or may not have acknowledged yet. I just like to know what I am getting into and who all the key players might be.Tuesday, February 10, 2026, End of the meeting
I wait for a few of the other participants go up to the chest and collect their letters. I watch as some of them immediately walk or shuffle out the door, as if to escape the eyes of the others. A few calmly find their envelope and walk to a corner and discretely open it and discover the contents. Everyone is careful to hide their emotions whether they may be excitement, dread or something else. After half a dozen or so grab what is theirs, I get up from my seat and walk up to the chest to find the envelope with my name.
Whether by chance or some unseen design, my name is emblazoned on an envelope right on top of the small stack. I don't have to dig through and search. I just pick it up and try my best nonchalant, unhurried walk to the side of the room, paying close attention to my periphery to see any reaction or movement from Valour and the mysterious boy closest to her. Nothing to note from the strange duo or any other players in the room.
As I look over the envelope, I turn it over in the light to see if there are any hidden details. I happen to see the faintest embossing on the flap, just above the wax seal. I study it and look closely and see a faint image of crossed swords... No, wait, it's a sword and a staff! She mentioned tarot, which means this represents reason and wisdom crossed with creativity and willpower. Hmm, noted.
I break the seal and open my envelope. Inside I find the Hermit card, face down, as I unfold the letter around it. In tarot, I know the orientation of cards is very important. Does this mean I should read the card as inverted or am I overthinking all this already. I will have to research fully what any of this means, if anything, but I do know the hermit has something to do with corruption, disguise and caution. I quickly glance at Valour, trying to divine a clue from her, but she is looking toward the chest of letters, and not revealing anything yet.
My gaze wanders around the room again, trying to glean any information from the others before I finally read my letter.
I read it through several times, absorbing its details and message. I must break a rule and leave a calling card, this tarot. I place the card in my pocket, being careful not to reveal which one it is to the rest of the room. Presumably, this represents my identity and is currently held as a secret between Valour and myself. And I want to keep it that way. This is a test! Probably not the last.
This will be fun! Now, I just have to figure out what I want to do and how big I can go. I am sure the degree of violation will be part of the test, perhaps even how a hierarchy is being established in this new little club.
I walk to the small fireplace. I toss the envelope and letter into the fire and watch as it ignites and burns up. Satisfied it is destroyed; I turn and walk toward the door and leave in utter silence. I don't look around, but I notice the small movements in my periphery as others begin to walk toward the fire and follow my lead. I walk out the door and down the corridor thinking on my mission.