Ooh, her head was feeling a bit...floaty, maybe she should sit down for a minute
Who: Az and Cain
What: Completing the task requested
When: February 2nd, 3 pm
Where: Royal Library
The wood beneath her fingertips was scarred, worn smooth more with use from hundreds of annuals than in any sort of sanding when it had been lovingly carved long ago. She closed her eyes, mentally steeling herself for this last step in this last ritual, focusing on the feel of the table under her spread hands. Not only could hours spent carefully crafting each of the subordinate spell be lost if she lost her focus, but it could be physically disastrous as well.
Papers were spread out across the surface of the table, along with several pens and a large map of the Royal Palace, painstakingly drawn out. The scattered papers were covered in her delicately looped handwriting, deliberating which spells would weave together in the post harmonious way. If one spell had gone wrong, they would have all conflicted and made all her effort for nothing. If that happened, the best reaction could be nothing at all, the worst could be exponentially more dangerous.
In a moment of mischievousness, she had sketched out an Ancient symbol at the bottom of her map, one the eventual recipient of the parchment would immediately recognize. Six hours of intense concentration was a little much for anyone, two minutes of inking out an embarrassing hieroglyph was just a minor and temporary escape.
At the moment she was entirely clear on what she needed to have her mind zeroed in on, nothing but seriousness. Her eyes opened as she breathed in and then out, the smell of old books and paper filling her lungs, somehow centering her concentration and pushing out all other thoughts. The Library was in the exact center of the Palace, in its heart, and was the most advantageous place to merge the spells and blend them into the magic of the Palace itself.
She straightened, picking up an athame that she had placed off to the side in preparation, moving the silver bowl to rest where she had marked on the table. Once it was in place, she raised her left arm, elbow down. Intoning the Ancient words that would blend the new and impossibly old magicks of the many spells she had interwoven up until then together, she pressed the tip of the blade into her pale skin. Slicing open a line the width, but not breadth of her forearm.
The vibrant red of her blood dripped slowly into the bowl, and despite the storybooks, the spell ended with no visible reaction. Instead, the thrum of the magic just rumbled its way through her body, and made the dagger drop from her hand and clatter on the table. Her hands returned to the table’s surface in an echo from her previous position.
Breathing heavily, the air moving in and out of her lungs drowned out all other sounds. The noise of the doors opening behind her unheard in Az’s personal din.
What: Completing the task requested
When: February 2nd, 3 pm
Where: Royal Library
The wood beneath her fingertips was scarred, worn smooth more with use from hundreds of annuals than in any sort of sanding when it had been lovingly carved long ago. She closed her eyes, mentally steeling herself for this last step in this last ritual, focusing on the feel of the table under her spread hands. Not only could hours spent carefully crafting each of the subordinate spell be lost if she lost her focus, but it could be physically disastrous as well.
Papers were spread out across the surface of the table, along with several pens and a large map of the Royal Palace, painstakingly drawn out. The scattered papers were covered in her delicately looped handwriting, deliberating which spells would weave together in the post harmonious way. If one spell had gone wrong, they would have all conflicted and made all her effort for nothing. If that happened, the best reaction could be nothing at all, the worst could be exponentially more dangerous.
In a moment of mischievousness, she had sketched out an Ancient symbol at the bottom of her map, one the eventual recipient of the parchment would immediately recognize. Six hours of intense concentration was a little much for anyone, two minutes of inking out an embarrassing hieroglyph was just a minor and temporary escape.
At the moment she was entirely clear on what she needed to have her mind zeroed in on, nothing but seriousness. Her eyes opened as she breathed in and then out, the smell of old books and paper filling her lungs, somehow centering her concentration and pushing out all other thoughts. The Library was in the exact center of the Palace, in its heart, and was the most advantageous place to merge the spells and blend them into the magic of the Palace itself.
She straightened, picking up an athame that she had placed off to the side in preparation, moving the silver bowl to rest where she had marked on the table. Once it was in place, she raised her left arm, elbow down. Intoning the Ancient words that would blend the new and impossibly old magicks of the many spells she had interwoven up until then together, she pressed the tip of the blade into her pale skin. Slicing open a line the width, but not breadth of her forearm.
The vibrant red of her blood dripped slowly into the bowl, and despite the storybooks, the spell ended with no visible reaction. Instead, the thrum of the magic just rumbled its way through her body, and made the dagger drop from her hand and clatter on the table. Her hands returned to the table’s surface in an echo from her previous position.
Breathing heavily, the air moving in and out of her lungs drowned out all other sounds. The noise of the doors opening behind her unheard in Az’s personal din.