When she takes hold of her Token, she's, of course, going to notice that there's nothing but pure anger and hatred radiating out of it. And this is only further emphasized by the fact that, for only a few seconds before fading back into the indigo gem, a pair of familiar, red eyes glare from the magical orb in the center.
But really, with the joy, relief and celebration going on on both Neopia and its moon, Kreludor, Sloth's black emotions are like a hornet buzzing inside of a jar. It's angry, yes, but it can't do anything beyond making its container vibrate with its displeasure.
Exactly. As a certain good witch once said, "You have no power here, now begone before somebody drops a house on you, too."
Not that Neopia has the Oz books, but you get the picture.
The faerie loops the golden chain around her neck, and she's surprised to find out that it doesn't 'complete' her like it once did. Whether that's the result of his essence trapped within, or the copies he made, or the length of time she's been separated from it, she can't tell. It could be all three. Or none of the above. It just feels like a small brand of relief, like when you lose something of just sentimental value, to have it returned later. Hrm.
She holds it in two fingers, up from her chest, and looks down at it, as if waiting for his eyes to reappear.
"Here I am. And now I'm going to release you, as promised. Just not here. Vacuum wouldn't be good for you. Just a little longer, Frank."
The 'buzzing', which isn't really like a physical vibration, but more of a psychic or spiritual one, increases momentarily as she addresses the inhabitant of her jewelry. The eyes flash again as well. That would probably be him either yelling, or urging her to get on with it already.
It's not snarky, it's not vindictive, it's not even particularly annoyed. It's said gently, like a mother teaching a child a lesson. Or a lover doing her best to defuse her man's anger. Not that she blames him for being angry. He was right, in one respect; this was a mistake.
But it's a mistake she can rectify.
Soon, they're zooming through space together, where the Token is, erm, tucked into her cleavage. At least he's getting a nice view, right? She arrives just outside his ultra-top-secret last-resort base, which is about a sixteenth of the size of his current station. It's a monitoring satellite, which gives him access to all the computer read-outs of his network.
And best of all, there are no minions there that might stumble upon her freeing him. (They have orders to shoot her on sight, after all.)
Any agitation does die down a great deal when the Token's tucked down her shirt, there is that.
Once at the satellite and asked if this location will suffice, there's something that feels like an impatient sigh and a weary agreement. Sloth's communications with Lumindra could be a lot more straightforward, expressing his sentiments and thoughts in something more like words if he just concentrated on such. But then again, that's too much like psychic communication, and that's never anything he'll go along with willingly.
Lumindra knows this about him, too, which is why she's speaking entirely aloud. Of course, her voice probably sounds like a giant tolling bell to him right now, but that's magic for you. If he weren't so stubborn they could do this the easy way.
She settles herself on the edge of one of his desks, removing the Token as she goes. Taking it in both hands, she closes her eyes and concentrates.
Cylara did...a very good job. Surprisingly good. Somebody get that Cybunny to a magic school; she's got talent.
Focus.
Cosmos perlaxus, anagio maleire...
Her voice takes on a timbre that he's probably only heard when they're fighting. It's almost like she's echoing herself, two voices coming out of one set of vocal chords. She is tapping her deep magic, and under her regular voice is something as vast and ancient as space itself.
Abiec anadate, perlaxus anadate cosmos noten fertulitum benevact SLOTH! The power behind her voice rings out in the little satellite station, and probably even worse inside the token. If he has ever feared her
( ... )
The incantation is powerful, and within the cage that Sloth is contained inside this magical limbo, the smoke surrounding him swirls violently, flashing light inside it like ion storms, fading from dusk violet to midnight black. The volume and magnitude of the growing spell actually makes Sloth, just for a moment, indeed a little afraid.
But then it all comes down rapidly, back to the usual maddeningly placid state of being a nowhere place. And the Token radiates his disappointment and demands to know what's going on and what went wrong.
Lumindra rolls up her sleeves and tries again, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. Her eyes roll back in her head after a moment, and those strangely-doubled words ring out again. Inside the Token, though, the results are much less dramatic than the last time. No color-shifting fog, no flashes of light, no rumbling of the firmament.
She senses this, and is starting to get annoyed. Not at Cylara, or even Frank. But at herself. She shouldn't be this ineffectual.
For a third time, those words are uttered. Nothing.
A fourth time. Still nothing.
She's half-way through the fifth repetition when she simply collapses, cut off mid-syllable, as if felled by a fist to the back of her head. She moans in dismay, sprawled out on the floor of the base.
"...S'rry...Frank...gimme a minnit..." Her words are slurring with the effort it takes to say them.
There were a few moments, if she had been watching, where there almost seemed to be the barest, insubstantial outline of Sloth standing in front of her; just a wavering, six-foot tall shadow. But any appearances of such are as ghost-like as they seem, given that they wink out almost immediately from the physical realm.
His eyes are visible in the Token again, scowling out at her in impatience. This is her blasted bauble; she should be able to just say some hocus-pocus and bring him back out! How hard can this be?
Pretty hard, apparently, especially considering the fact that she wasn't operating at full strength to begin with. In spite of the celebrations below, she's still nowhere near her phenomenal cosmic powers.
She lifts her head and stares right into those red eyes.
"...Something's wrong. I can't. I think..."
She hesitates to say it, but then decides to be honest with him, as always. This isn't her doling out blame, though, it should be noted. She's not got a single guilt-inducing bone in her body.
"Those copies you made drained me. I don't think I have the magic in me to do this by myself anymore."
There's no reaction right away. But then there's the sense of the person inside her necklace rolling his eyes and going, what. I suppose you're expecting some kind of an apology?
There's distrust seeping into his emotions again, and those emotions, of course, are broadcasted plainly to the Space Faerie. He's starting to wonder if she's just toying with him. Holding the keys to his prison cell just outside of his reach, or making a big show out of being 'unable' to release him.
She sighs wearily, and sits up. It's a slow process, but the color is coming back into her face again. Thank heaven that she has the Neopians celebrating below, otherwise she'd be out of it for a long while.
"You know I don't do that sort of thing, so drop it." Now a bit of harshness is sneaking into her tone; she's in no mood to deal with his paranoia.
"Do you have anything to drink here? I could use some water right now, please."
There's another pause, this one a bit more sulking and withdrawn.
Then a short blip of activity, pointing out a doorway to her left. Behind it is a small storage for various space-travel provisions. There should be packets of water in the fridge, says the presence in the Token.
Quickly, she fetches back her water, and drinks it thirstily. It's none too cold, and a bit stale, and tastes of the plastic it's been stored in, but it cools her throat and unsticks her tongue from the roof of her mouth.
Even a being like her needs to eat and drink.
She sits down cross-legged by Token again, her face once again placid and blank. That, in and of itself, should be a good indicator that she's feeling better. She's relaxed enough that she's not focusing on expressions.
"I can't keep trying again, I'll faint. And then you really would be stuck, for who knows how long."
She puts her chin in her hand, thinking.
"...I guess we have no choice. Fyora's the only one who can help."
He seems to mull it over, the Token going darkly quiet. The eyes fade for up to a minute and there's the spiritual equivalent of hearing only breathing on the other end of the phone line.
Then there's a gruff agreement. He's in a bad place no matter how he slices it; the Space Faerie herself can't extract him from the magical artifact that's bound to her. And if Fyora simply says that that Sloth and his prison need to be sealed away...Well, he'll figure something out and get out on his own. It's not like he doesn't have a lot of time on his hands, both from his slow aging and from the nature of magic often making time even more sluggish.
If she were the kind of woman who facepalmed regularly, she'd be doing so right now. And he calls her naive?
"Frank, you can't get out on your own. That's what I've been trying to tell you this whole time. The nature of the spell won't allow it. Even if you had Gormos hammer at this Token for the next twenty years, it would never crack, never break. And even if you DID manage to break it, it wouldn't free you. It'd just make it even harder to retrieve you."
She feels like pacing, but it would do her no good.
"I can't undo my own magic. That's serious, Frank. I risk ripping all of Neopia to shreds, ourselves included, if I force the spell to break. The only one who can undo it is Fyora."
Lumindra sets her chin.
"I won't let her kill you. Or keep you imprisoned forever. I swear it. I'll...think of something. I'll make a bargain with her, all right? I'll offer myself in your place, if need be."
But really, with the joy, relief and celebration going on on both Neopia and its moon, Kreludor, Sloth's black emotions are like a hornet buzzing inside of a jar. It's angry, yes, but it can't do anything beyond making its container vibrate with its displeasure.
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Not that Neopia has the Oz books, but you get the picture.
The faerie loops the golden chain around her neck, and she's surprised to find out that it doesn't 'complete' her like it once did. Whether that's the result of his essence trapped within, or the copies he made, or the length of time she's been separated from it, she can't tell. It could be all three. Or none of the above. It just feels like a small brand of relief, like when you lose something of just sentimental value, to have it returned later. Hrm.
She holds it in two fingers, up from her chest, and looks down at it, as if waiting for his eyes to reappear.
"Here I am. And now I'm going to release you, as promised. Just not here. Vacuum wouldn't be good for you. Just a little longer, Frank."
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It's not snarky, it's not vindictive, it's not even particularly annoyed. It's said gently, like a mother teaching a child a lesson. Or a lover doing her best to defuse her man's anger. Not that she blames him for being angry. He was right, in one respect; this was a mistake.
But it's a mistake she can rectify.
Soon, they're zooming through space together, where the Token is, erm, tucked into her cleavage. At least he's getting a nice view, right? She arrives just outside his ultra-top-secret last-resort base, which is about a sixteenth of the size of his current station. It's a monitoring satellite, which gives him access to all the computer read-outs of his network.
And best of all, there are no minions there that might stumble upon her freeing him. (They have orders to shoot her on sight, after all.)
"Here. Is this acceptable?"
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Once at the satellite and asked if this location will suffice, there's something that feels like an impatient sigh and a weary agreement. Sloth's communications with Lumindra could be a lot more straightforward, expressing his sentiments and thoughts in something more like words if he just concentrated on such. But then again, that's too much like psychic communication, and that's never anything he'll go along with willingly.
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She settles herself on the edge of one of his desks, removing the Token as she goes. Taking it in both hands, she closes her eyes and concentrates.
Cylara did...a very good job. Surprisingly good. Somebody get that Cybunny to a magic school; she's got talent.
Focus.
Cosmos perlaxus, anagio maleire...
Her voice takes on a timbre that he's probably only heard when they're fighting. It's almost like she's echoing herself, two voices coming out of one set of vocal chords. She is tapping her deep magic, and under her regular voice is something as vast and ancient as space itself.
Abiec anadate, perlaxus anadate cosmos noten fertulitum benevact SLOTH!
The power behind her voice rings out in the little satellite station, and probably even worse inside the token. If he has ever feared her ( ... )
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But then it all comes down rapidly, back to the usual maddeningly placid state of being a nowhere place. And the Token radiates his disappointment and demands to know what's going on and what went wrong.
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She senses this, and is starting to get annoyed. Not at Cylara, or even Frank. But at herself. She shouldn't be this ineffectual.
For a third time, those words are uttered. Nothing.
A fourth time. Still nothing.
She's half-way through the fifth repetition when she simply collapses, cut off mid-syllable, as if felled by a fist to the back of her head. She moans in dismay, sprawled out on the floor of the base.
"...S'rry...Frank...gimme a minnit..." Her words are slurring with the effort it takes to say them.
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His eyes are visible in the Token again, scowling out at her in impatience. This is her blasted bauble; she should be able to just say some hocus-pocus and bring him back out! How hard can this be?
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She lifts her head and stares right into those red eyes.
"...Something's wrong. I can't. I think..."
She hesitates to say it, but then decides to be honest with him, as always. This isn't her doling out blame, though, it should be noted. She's not got a single guilt-inducing bone in her body.
"Those copies you made drained me. I don't think I have the magic in me to do this by myself anymore."
Reply
There's distrust seeping into his emotions again, and those emotions, of course, are broadcasted plainly to the Space Faerie. He's starting to wonder if she's just toying with him. Holding the keys to his prison cell just outside of his reach, or making a big show out of being 'unable' to release him.
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"You know I don't do that sort of thing, so drop it." Now a bit of harshness is sneaking into her tone; she's in no mood to deal with his paranoia.
"Do you have anything to drink here? I could use some water right now, please."
Reply
Then a short blip of activity, pointing out a doorway to her left. Behind it is a small storage for various space-travel provisions. There should be packets of water in the fridge, says the presence in the Token.
Reply
Even a being like her needs to eat and drink.
She sits down cross-legged by Token again, her face once again placid and blank. That, in and of itself, should be a good indicator that she's feeling better. She's relaxed enough that she's not focusing on expressions.
"I can't keep trying again, I'll faint. And then you really would be stuck, for who knows how long."
She puts her chin in her hand, thinking.
"...I guess we have no choice. Fyora's the only one who can help."
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Then there's a gruff agreement. He's in a bad place no matter how he slices it; the Space Faerie herself can't extract him from the magical artifact that's bound to her. And if Fyora simply says that that Sloth and his prison need to be sealed away...Well, he'll figure something out and get out on his own. It's not like he doesn't have a lot of time on his hands, both from his slow aging and from the nature of magic often making time even more sluggish.
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"Frank, you can't get out on your own. That's what I've been trying to tell you this whole time. The nature of the spell won't allow it. Even if you had Gormos hammer at this Token for the next twenty years, it would never crack, never break. And even if you DID manage to break it, it wouldn't free you. It'd just make it even harder to retrieve you."
She feels like pacing, but it would do her no good.
"I can't undo my own magic. That's serious, Frank. I risk ripping all of Neopia to shreds, ourselves included, if I force the spell to break. The only one who can undo it is Fyora."
Lumindra sets her chin.
"I won't let her kill you. Or keep you imprisoned forever. I swear it. I'll...think of something. I'll make a bargain with her, all right? I'll offer myself in your place, if need be."
Reply
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