(Untitled)

[dissentive]

Characters: Morrigan (dissentive), Jowan (failmaleficar)
Setting/Location: Out by the Ramroc pen, Lere'unfru.
Date & Time: Day 23, afternoon / early evening.
Warnings: Bloodshed, npc death.
Summary: Jowan attempts a blood ritual to rip a tear into what he thinks is the Fade.

Comments

[failmaleficar]

Jowan was fashionably late this time, even though he had said that he was ready. That was more for reasons of curiosity, though - he'd prepared everything there was to prepare, lined out the ritual in his head, and even tested his powers. They were a bit weakened, as perhaps to be expected, but they were still there. He couldn't help looking around the town, however, curious as to its layout, the fake people inhabiting it, whether there were other mages trapped here who might be helpful in the ritual. He found nobody, of course, but the delay felt worth it. He had to make sure they weren't missing anything

[dissentive]

"'Tis he," Morrigan quipped in her child-like voice, miles away from her usual sultry ways of speaking, though it still held the same manners of speech, her languid patterns. "Old man, this is my companion." The man turned from his lean against the fence, nodding at Jowan amicably

[failmaleficar]

If he hadn't been concentrating on the ritual, retracing the steps mentally, Jowan might have found that cute - it was strange at least, Morrigan with that voice, all commanding, even so small. But he paid closer attention to their sacrifice now, careful not to let it realise that they had plans. Perhaps he would have felt uneasy under normal circumstances, but he didn't. He felt... secure. Strangely secure. Here he was in his element, he knew what he was doing, and he was good at this. It gave him a little bit of a feeling of actual power, and yes - while blood magic was dangerous and evil, and had really only ever caused trouble for him, he did enjoy that power. He knew he could never be as talented a mage as Alim, but this was where he had an edge.

And the old man? Perhaps he should have felt some pity, especially seeing how weak their sacrifice was. But he didn't. That "man" wasn't even alive, he told himself, and it calmed his confused conscience a bit, stopped it from wondering if he should feel anything about this. And if he

[dissentive]

The old man glanced once between Jowan and Morrigan, a smile crooking onto his lips before he closed his eyes. Morrigan was hardly sympathetic for the life they were going to take - after all, it was only one in the scope of many back in her world, and this man's life meant very little to her. He was simply a tool for the cause - Ferelden and its lands were what was important to her, not some old spirit in the Fade. Though the rift may bring some inconveniences later on, it was something they could address once they were on the other side. They could accomplish very little here, but there was still the archdemon and her mother to attend to. She wondered, briefly, if there would be a way to shove Alistair into this ritual so that he may be thrust back into the realm without him trying to interrupt the proceedings, too blinded by the teachings of those who considered themselves above all to see much logic. Not that she thought Alistair could actually process logic, only to an extent what he was told to do by those whom he considered