Aka Magical Banana Bread A small group RP between @Fox of Spades, @Warden and @Redshift The grand double doors were thrown open with a screech just as the church bells cried three o'clock in the afternoon, a man hurrying in with his share of rosy cheeked apologies. The chilled gust carried many an autumnal leaf in with him, disturbing the myriad of wind chimes, dream catchers, herbs and flowers which hung from the old wooden joists. A couple of candles closest to the door were blown out. He hurriedly closed the doors behind him, clicked his fingers to ignite the candles once more, before disappearing into the modest gathering of people within this building. Zaniah watched as he went, hunched and tucked into a corner as she was, pulling her scarf further up her face til it covered her nose. She was unnoticed, a shadow in a way, averting her striking starred eyes from anybody who came near. It wasn't exactly a talent of hers to blend in like this, but a learned trait. Her corner was the closest to the meeting room, and if she placed her ear to the wall just right she could hear all but whispers from their consultations. She was well practiced at this too, by now. Many a time she had squirreled herself into this very spot, unseen by others, to learn what they discussed. It was, after all, what her employer asked of her. Right now, the noises from the meeting room were raised enough for everybody to hear regardless of if they pressed their ear to the wall or not. A noble looking man had entered earlier, looking quite out of place, insisting on speaking to the Magemother. It didn't sound like it was going well. Hidden down the side of the building outside, a slimmer man lifted a bottle to his lips and took a long sip from it's contents. This building was in the old quarter of the city, all wood and stone and thatch. But in the distance, monolithic buildings of brass, steel and concrete towered over the city, steam billowing from factories ensuring that even on a fairly unclouded day like this the skies was never truly clear. Not that they were anyway, thanks to a pair of blimps slowly making their way to and from the horizon. It was a bit of a peaceful scene in a way, with the steady hum of the city as the pigeon-drawn carts passed by on the cobbled streets. At least, it wouldn't have been, if it wasn't for the shouts coming from inside. They couldn't make out the words from out here, but they certainly could hear the voices. "Not sure if we really needed to send Zan in today Boss," Fletcher shrugged once he had finished with his sip, wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist. He too was dressed warmly in a rather average hand sewn linen jacket, making his appearance seem quite ordinary. "I think everyone in that damned place can hear what's going on in there." The Magemother was a formidable woman - although such a thing should be no surprise considering her position as the leader of the Magic Circle. Tall and curvaceous and swathed in rich coloured fabrics and jewelry, her thickly applied makeup distorted in thinly veiled anger. She was silhouetted a little against the large glass window behind her - once stunning views across the city of Aesyth now blocked by a factory built just a little too close. A few men and women sat beside her on both sides, her left and right hands. She herself was behind a desk although no longer sat down, her hands - calloused from such constant use of a quill rather than the weaving of magic - were pressed flat against the myriad of papers and forms which cluttered the surface. "I am sorry, sir, but I'll say it again. We do not have the resources!"