#baronyofthesilverwolf

It IS a very nice tiara.

She strokes it, wistful, then goes back to what magics might work

Soothsay will help learn, but not release. Could I ... could I ORDER the cantrip to break?

Many ways exist, to be certain. Or at least, could be attempted. Was Calanthe honest when she claimed it was difficult to unweave, or was that just an excuse to keep her spells active?

One thing at least seems evident - if she can follow the patterns of the magic she's sensed, she should be able to identify which of the "art", as the voice prompted, are the linchpins binding the cantrips in place. Then, it's simply a matter of undoing them.

Right? Easy as that...

Carefully, she begins to omen the objects, including the tiara

All of the items within this storeroom are mundane in nature, though of varying complexity though it seems than nearly all would fall under the realm of 'Crafted Props'. It should not be too difficult to use them to seek glimpses of their nature.

Alas, tthis maybe more advanced than she can handle.

Still.. with a bit of dross, or glamour...

With unleashing, many things once thought impossible are only slightly improbable!

Well, she's not goingg to unleash on a sinlgle ittem, and the web isn't here.

As she gathers her own glamour together, she realizes... there is very little, if any, answering glamour in THIS room. The treasures, such as they are, are lower-case-t, valuable only in monetary sense, or perhaps as a little dross, as well-crafted as they are.

Art... perhaps not as ART, the magic of the Fae, but as art, simple... and complex. Calanthe is the curator of all decor that comes into the hold... many of which has it's own glamour about it. An idea that may bear closer examination.

She puts the tiara back carefully. Connor's toys are on their way to storage

A storage area Calanthe won't knnow about

and the few items she's sure Dahlia didn't feel attachments too are gone. She moves back to the main halls where the art selected by Calanthe awaits

Now that she looks for it, it's everywhere she looks. Not simply decor, but pieces cherry-picked from dreamers or with it's own inner dross from the art of creation... here a painting of a mare running with a foal... there, a ceramic vase with a dahlia flower pattern... this one, a bust of a lady embracing the head of a horse.

Not every item on display, no, but key ones throughout the hold, as good as hidden in plain sight, each with an inner nucleus of glamour that resonates with Calanthe's touch, almost as if treasures themselves.

Varich senses help her to see a pattern unfolding which connects them all.

She eyes it. It can't be as simple as destroying the items. They're too fragile, some of them, perhaps they'd reform. Still... she reaches for the cantrip itself "My heart is cold, its beats are few, but the few I have matter. Show the key to unlock you all, so that the prize is not damaged . Do it"

annd she tries unleash

The magic flows, and unleashed, becomes a force that carries Nadeen along with it. Soothsay is a mighty and eldritch art and to set it free to to feel the course of da'an itself flowing through her as a conduit, filling all of her senses. The sharp tang of freshly spilled blood filled her nose, and she tastes the acrid bitterness of spent tea leaves. The rattle of dice, or rune stones, or bones echo in her ears. Flashing before her eyes are clouds that make patterns to be read, or the arcana of the tarot. Across her skin, the prickling of a web being woven, the soft slip of thread between her fingers, as though she could with a tug, bend fate, pull it to her will, or cut it short.

Her question seeks within the painting of a smiling brunette with kind eyes and an armful of flowers, beneath the paint, farther inward then the lingering glamour of the artist who poured out their dreams onto paint upon canvas, and seeking the bright knot of glamour within.

"My heart is cold, its beats are few, but the few I have matter. Show the key to unlock you all, so that the prize is not damaged." The words reverberate around her.

A vision comes to her, though it is almost buried in the flood of sensations. A snowflake twists and turns before her vision - on each of 6 delicate spires, a flickering image.

A frozen heart, across from a lock and key.

A knot, tied tight and frayed, with a hand plucking at it gingerly, only the faintest loop unraveled. Opposite, a sword descends to slice through it cleanly.

A many-pointed star in bright gold - and the face of a young pooka well known to her.

The cantrip releases her with sudden abruptness, as the magic drains away, leaving her seeing stars for some time. (Pun only slightly intended.)

"A frozenn heart, across from a lock and key... the knot tied tight, frayed... hand.. sword... star connor?"

She scrambles to write it down

The frozen heart, and seeking the key to unlock it.
A Gordian knot, which may be attempted to prize apart, or cut with a stroke.
A sun, and the son.

Nadeen feels rather drained, but manages to take down her notes, before her phone buzzes with a call.

She picks up the phone feeling dazed "Hell.. hello?"

The worried voice of Flo comes from the earpiece. She had been assisting in the kitchen today,

"My lady, are you well? There was a... ripple, even I felt it, and Miss Marigold said that the Balefire flared. The stewards are all a bustle - his lordship is off with his horses..."

"It's fine.. or it will be. Everything will be just fine" Hang on just a bit longer, Dahlia. I'll find a way to save the man we both love. Her features tighten with focus and she says with more strength "Everything will be well." Is Connor a key, treated like an object to use as an anchor? or both?

“Oh… okay. She’s ok.” Flo speaking to Nadeen, then to a muffled Marigold in the background. “Just making sure, my lady.”

The phone call ends giving Nadeen time to compose herself before returning to the main hold. Her glimpse into the flow of da’an has given her some clues, but it is to the Sidhe to actually turn the tide of fate.

(Scene)