"Mostly, aye. If you're just changing your own appearance then it's simple; trying to look like someone else is more complicated. You need something of theirs, and something to anchor the spell. Fortunately I'm not trying to look like someone in particular, so it should be fairly simple. I'm just reading up on the technique so I don't use more power than I need to."
Ex-faun. Bar. Tray of dirty glasses. Extremely sheepish expression from having been such a coward over the werewolf thing.
Which is probably the only reason Gil does what he does now - which is walk over to where Lochiel is sitting and say, very quietly, "Excuse me, sir. Might I have a moment of your time?"
"I was wondering if you could tell me how Nick Knight is? S - Asar-Suti was very concerned about him as am I. Nick's a good person." Gil glances at Lochiel then away again, "I thought I would ask on his behalf to save you - um - save time."
"Nick is fine. He was very upset when my Lady took us to her Island, but he calmed down fairly quickly. I talked to him, and we decided it was best to let the magic leave him naturally."
Very quietly, a woman with a teacup in her hand turns up beside where Lochiel is sitting.
"Father?" she asks, still very quietly.
Ginevra has had a long time now to think about the fact her dead father is in this place. Her dead father whom she herself killed, with her lover, and using her father's god as a weapon.
She had not planned to say that. She does see that they both have things to forgive each other, now.
She did not think he father would react like this. Her father, the epitome of dangerous calm and veiled threats and manipulation of both mind and matter.
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"Hello. Good enough, I suppose; I'm just reviewing the techniques here to refine my own, for some spells I'll need soon."
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"Glamour spells are just illusions, aren't they? Properties of light and such like?"
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Which is probably the only reason Gil does what he does now - which is walk over to where Lochiel is sitting and say, very quietly, "Excuse me, sir. Might I have a moment of your time?"
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"Of course. What can I do for you?"
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"Father?" she asks, still very quietly.
Ginevra has had a long time now to think about the fact her dead father is in this place. Her dead father whom she herself killed, with her lover, and using her father's god as a weapon.
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He doesn't turn around. He closes his eyes, and only the whiteness of his knuckles betrays exactly how tightly he's holding his coffee cup and book.
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She had not planned to say that. She does see that they both have things to forgive each other, now.
She did not think he father would react like this. Her father, the epitome of dangerous calm and veiled threats and manipulation of both mind and matter.
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He looks perfectly calm. His voice is even and cool and steady.
"Hello, Ginevra."
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