[ Some manner of bird with human arms, Caren's voice sounds in his ear, her fire at his back (impressive, he thinks, without turning from the climb, needing not to glimpse the magic to feel the force of the blaze or to hear the crackle of flame), but then darkness falls, and the King knows it to be Alice. Alice, who has become a greater, far more fearsome source of shadow herself.
He glows brightly as the pitch settles upon them, the golden light which had been dulled by the grey of the churning sky mists and cloud cover all too apparent now as it limns from beneath his skin, shining as Alice's illusion takes its shape, and the company is pulled in with it. Beneath his hand, the ledge which he'd taken as his grip is wet, not with condensation, but with the consistency of viscera, the tower itself changed into a pulsating mass of flesh and of eyes which begs some loathsome part of him to...
(Caren, upon his back, may perceive a sudden shift in him, the vibrance of his mana ungentle now, in this moment, and singing of one thing only: destruction.)
...devour it. ]
Lady Aisha, dig into the tower, regardless of what you see! Let nothing compromise your hold.
[ —his voice rings out, echoes, even as he forgoes his own grasp upon the ledge, offering a murmur of hold tightly to me now to Caren as he turns, angling his body so that he may better glimpse these wind riders for himself. His hold upon the grappling hook is unfaltering, the aim of twin blades formed from dark magic and the incantation of sword true as they take one screeching abomination by the throat, the creature bellowing, choking out its last breaths as it plummets, disappearing from the landscape of the illusion as it falls. ]
Be relentless and swift with your magic, Alice— [ He worries for her, for Aisha and for Caren, but if the illusion is already cast, then let it be used to its fullest extent. ] —it affects not only our enemies.
no subject
He glows brightly as the pitch settles upon them, the golden light which had been dulled by the grey of the churning sky mists and cloud cover all too apparent now as it limns from beneath his skin, shining as Alice's illusion takes its shape, and the company is pulled in with it. Beneath his hand, the ledge which he'd taken as his grip is wet, not with condensation, but with the consistency of viscera, the tower itself changed into a pulsating mass of flesh and of eyes which begs some loathsome part of him to...
(Caren, upon his back, may perceive a sudden shift in him, the vibrance of his mana ungentle now, in this moment, and singing of one thing only: destruction.)
...devour it. ]
Lady Aisha, dig into the tower, regardless of what you see! Let nothing compromise your hold.
[ —his voice rings out, echoes, even as he forgoes his own grasp upon the ledge, offering a murmur of hold tightly to me now to Caren as he turns, angling his body so that he may better glimpse these wind riders for himself. His hold upon the grappling hook is unfaltering, the aim of twin blades formed from dark magic and the incantation of sword true as they take one screeching abomination by the throat, the creature bellowing, choking out its last breaths as it plummets, disappearing from the landscape of the illusion as it falls. ]
Be relentless and swift with your magic, Alice— [ He worries for her, for Aisha and for Caren, but if the illusion is already cast, then let it be used to its fullest extent. ] —it affects not only our enemies.