Sabriel (
ringoutyourdead) wrote in
10000netherworlds2012-06-12 05:21 pm
Oh Oh It's Magic [Musebox]
Adjusting to the magical department proves, for Sabriel, to be almost as difficult as adjusting to the giant ship in the sky with the handheld radio things. The new forms of magic she's been introduced to are not Charter or Free Magic, or anything even resembling them. She has no ability to tell if they're things that she can master or just forms of magic she is innately incapable of. And yet, she has to work with them.
She stands before some of the magical artifacts - at least those make conceptual sense to her, as they are objects that have, at some point, been charmed (usually) and strokes her chin. She doesn't speak to many when they pass, preferring instead to mull, but she does wave a hand slightly in greeting when Morgan enters.
She stands before some of the magical artifacts - at least those make conceptual sense to her, as they are objects that have, at some point, been charmed (usually) and strokes her chin. She doesn't speak to many when they pass, preferring instead to mull, but she does wave a hand slightly in greeting when Morgan enters.

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"Is it communicating with you? Because it isn't with me."
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Morgan stumbles back a step as a gust of wind catches him cleanly in the chest.
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"I have a binding bell!" Sabriel yells, although as she approaches the light she sees that her hands are starting to wrinkle, veins bulging against tight leathery skin.
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Well, those are words of encouragement.
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-but the winds pick back up again, and the precise motions needed to ring it correctly are lost as Sabriel is thrown back. The gonging noise echoes through the air, and within a moment she, the spirit and Morgan all find themselves facedown in shallow, cool running water.
The first gate of river of death.
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"Run!" she hisses, gesturing frantically downstream.
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She shoves Morgan ahead of her through the gate. He'll land is waist-deep water.
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"I don't know where the spirit went." She looks as if she's trying to keep it together, but like she really needs a moment to decompress before moving forward.
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He touched her shoulder gently, providing a point of contact for her to focus on.
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"We're in the fourth precinct of the river of death. This is one of the safer precincts. The third, obviously, is treacherous, and if we go forward, the fifth moreso. I don't know where the spirit went, but we could take our chances and hope the wave took it past the final gate."
Or they could go be certain.
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No question in his mind that hoping was foolish, but if sticking around risked having their spirits severed from their bodies or something like that, then the choice was clear.
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Duty. That put a different spin on it. He could understand that, and it did put a different spin on things.
"Well," he said, looking down at his feet -- which were still poised on the surface of the water. "Should I come down, or would you like to come up?"
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He knelt down, slid an arm around her waist gently but firmly, then lifted with the strength of his legs. Once she was out of the water, he put his free hand on the small of her back, let out one breath as he projected his chi to mesh with hers, then made a twisting gesture to pull her energies into harmony. Aside from the general feeling of vitality that brought, it also served to put her on the surface of the water just as neatly when he released her.
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She still doesn't rush across the surface. Even if the spirit wasn't taken past the last gate, the wave should have washed it far enough to bring them time, and you never know what hides in this precinct's waters. The dead may reach up and grab their ankles if they aren't careful. "Watch your feet."
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He twitched his head aside, flicking his hair out of the way as he reached back to grip the hilt of his sword. "You know, this horrible death land actually kind of sucks."
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