The arc of that blade is beautiful, too. He wonders, briefly, if it will leave a scar none of them can see.
Warmth on his face from the huge carcass scorched and smouldering between them, sulphur and smoke, the discordantly appetizing scent of burning meat. Two mages, finding their lungs, each one leaning on his staff. Mutual observation. A job well done.
Leander, pale and flushed, affects a dryly thespian bow of thanks in return, drags his staff loose of the snow and trudges back along the patchy footpath he'd made, picking his way with strides almost comically high now that there's no need to plough their way through the scenery. Bunny prints: a permanent association from days long past. He reaches more hospitable ground, stomps the powder from his boots.
"Never seen that one before. The fissure." Dragging the back of his wrist high across his forehead, shedding words in fatigue, "Starkhaven's spellwork, or yours?"
no subject
Warmth on his face from the huge carcass scorched and smouldering between them, sulphur and smoke, the discordantly appetizing scent of burning meat. Two mages, finding their lungs, each one leaning on his staff. Mutual observation. A job well done.
Leander, pale and flushed, affects a dryly thespian bow of thanks in return, drags his staff loose of the snow and trudges back along the patchy footpath he'd made, picking his way with strides almost comically high now that there's no need to plough their way through the scenery. Bunny prints: a permanent association from days long past. He reaches more hospitable ground, stomps the powder from his boots.
"Never seen that one before. The fissure." Dragging the back of his wrist high across his forehead, shedding words in fatigue, "Starkhaven's spellwork, or yours?"