(Untitled)

[mogget_cat]

Yrael is lounging on his favorite couch, a thick, leather-bound book open on his lap. He's not even half paying attention to it, however, as he draws a long sequence of Charter Marks into the air before him. Each burns with bright fire for a moment before fading to hang unseen in the air, which grows thick with the concentrated magic of the spell

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[killitwith_fire]

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

The voice that goes with the leather-clad elbows on the back of the couch is atypically sober.

[mogget_cat]

Yrael can only nod, his muttering not stopping. So many of the Marks he's having to make need their names spoken, many more than need themselves drawn. His fingers only pick up about a third of the Marks that are congregating, hovering.

It's going well so far. It's just the making of the physical, which after so much study is relatively simple to make. He's not going into the emotional, the spiritual, the connection aspects just yet. Those will take much more concentration than even what he's giving it, now.

[killitwith_fire]

Axel remains silent then, just watching for a while.

[mogget_cat]

A few minutes later, Yrael calls aloud a Master Mark, one to hold all of those that came before together in their pattern, to solidify their existence and make them meld...

What falls into his hands is unmistakably a heart, though without emotion or connection, or a body to sustain it, it soon unravels and dissolves back into the firmament.

[forge_fire]

The fire in the air pulls the attention of someone sitting not far away, who looks at the Marks while they last and then looks at the air.

Then he stands, hobbling over.

[mogget_cat]

The pale young man with the bright cat's eyes is muttering quickly to himself, calling up the Marks he knows he will need. It's like dipping down into a well and pulling up water, continuously. Pulling them from the Charter, through himself and into the air, linking them together more intricately than any chain should be.

"...Peota-Wonai-Horok-Skcor-Cigam-Dliw-Nigea-Liget...Ack!" He has just enough time to shield his eyes from the minor explosion that results. Grumbling more than muttering, now, he reaches for a thick notebook full of notes and adds a few more to their number.

[forge_fire]

He leans on his cane and peers at the notebook.

[mogget_cat]

Yrael scribbles down symbols in a curious shorthand, tiny lines connecting them all in a mesh pattern that almost resembles DNA, almost resembles a 3D model of a terrifically complicated molecule set to paper.

Intending to try again, Yrael looks up, only to find his notes being eyed.

"Good evening," he says, smiling at the stranger. He'll never begrudge anyone their curiosity. "Just a project I'm working on."