This has no title

(My rp replies are gonna be fairly short, i just wanted you to have some context! If something doesnt work

 

An ornate purple robe.

A fierce smirk dripping from a hooded figure, concealed in shadow surrounded by stars and swirling golden dust.

Black tendrils of hair dripping from the skull of an animalistic woman, hungry for blood-- pallid grey and gory, whom traded her humanity for death and sadistic dealings in the underworlds. Ghosts and demons fill her room. She holds green potions emitting skulls and putrid smells. She has fangs for some random reason, and nasty little rodent hands.

This drawing was-- creative, and what Ezperana found to be a horrible rendition of a free thinking mage who believed unsanctioned magic to be a right for academic progress. She pulled the artwork from its envelope and carefully folded it, placing it atop the pile of "fanmail" at the foot of her desk. It wasn't even her doing that caused the besmirched reputation, but rather a series of controversial academic papers criticizing the bureaucracy of the houses, and her father's doglike service of the elite houses. A brilliant mage, with brilliant children-- all enlisted to serve the house before they could even recite the alphabet. Had she been someone else, she would have been stuffed into a little bag and fed to pigs, but her minor standing was only saved because she superficially caught the eye of one of the noble sons, who insisted that although she was outspoken and uncooperative, she could continue to serve the houses needs under what was essentially house arrest in her chosen place. There were conditions-- she couldn't leave through magical means, but anyone could enter to visit. Of course she took the deal.

She had picked a little shop in the city. It was perfect! She could meet people! Make friends! Debate the locals! Even if she couldn't leave, she would be visited endlessly and pursue her dream of practicing and studying magic undisturbed. There was conditions.

...But no one came. Without a marketing strategy, her shop was one of many in a slew of stores. She got what she wanted, but was forgotten and lonely, save for the occasional mail that would be slipped under her door on rumors made up by any passing local (she suspected it was from rumors started from the noble house, and her own family to prevent her from getting what she wanted, but without the ability to leave, there was no way to prove it).

Tonight would be different. Usually, she'd close her shop, and crawl up to the back room and resume her studies, requests from the house to innovate magic (magic cannot just be innovated! fools!)-- but today, was a day of revenge. She rushed to the back to her desk. Hidden beneath piles of letters requesting potions and studies, she found a blank manuscript, without a title-- fully written, but unpublished. Scrawled across the top was a note, written to herself, of the date-- which was today.

Circled for emphasis, were the written words:

HOW TO SUMMON AN ARMY OF UNDEAD ON THE FULL MOON AND MAKE THEM ATTACK EXACTLY WHO YOU WANT.

She picked up the manuscript, inhaled deeply, and turned to the first page:

𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑝 𝑜𝑛𝑒: 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑒 

Well... fuck. How was she supposed to do that? It was midnight. Who would be silly enough to be walking down this creepy little remote little street in the middle of the night? Clutching the manuscript, she left the backroom and pressed her face against her shop window to see if she could see anything.