[closed-ish] fearless on my breath

[eolasemah]

WHO: Sina, Pel, and Velanna + any reactions others might have
WHAT: Freaky druid shit
WHEN: Before dawn on some day in Solace
WHERE: The ex-chantry garden, Hightown
NOTES: It was planned such that no one else would be here to see,
but please feel free to react to and speculate on the end result!

The sky has only slightly begun to grey by the time the three mages have assembled themselves in the struggling garden, two on each end and Sina in the center. Each has four small diffusers, humbly constructed for the purpose of burning herbs and bearing no special decoration, and within each container is a crumbling of dried royal elfroot. These are positioned around the three with a ritualistic precision, making each of them the center of a compass.

Bearing no flame magic, Sina lights her easterly diffuser using a match, waiting until the other two have followed suit before moving onto north, and around until they're all steaming. Then, with a solemn glance in both directions, she closes her eyes and presses her palms to the ground.

The silence prevails, no birds or even nighttime insects cutting the darkness as a faint greenish glow begins to thrum from beneath Sina's hands, spreading with the slow certainty of pooling blood. It grows wider and wider, until, with a small nod, Sina signals the other two. Their task is to bolster it, to feel the magic their younger cohort generates and push it to all corners of the garden.

What Velanna and Pel don't have, and what they don't realize Sina does have, is a small and inconspicuous length of brambles beneath her hands. They drive into her thin palms, increasing the strength of the spell through the inevitable result of sharp points against skin.
Sina is strong with magic, and this is her area of greatest expertise. But sometimes one's best efforts aren't enough.