Post by Zaffran on Dec 17, 2023 6:31:27 GMT -5
Current PL: 42,000
Zaffran scratched her chin. What to make of Earth? Its sea was made of water, not blood, and no wave she followed had yet brought to coast even a skull. The sounds, also, were oddly unhellish, wet crashes and gull screams that didn't carry the tunes of those bound in the most profound abyss imaginable. Ah, and the smell! It almost offended the Prince, its salt and pungence were too clean, didn't carry the right sulphur of overstewed soul. But perhaps she could find something of note?
"Lorgnette." the brass (and rather useless) instrument fell on the goat's reaching hand, without so much as a servile grunt! It was the imp that had given it, the one member of Zaffran's entourage that didn't go home for the holidays... She only mildly resented the hornless creature for its inability to suck up properly, but it otherwise served well enough: for instance, the lorgnette it had given was Zaffran's favorite -- the ivory handle was hewn from a shinjin's pet cat, and the lens were proofed in fairy tears between uses.
The sorcerer neared and distanced the unfashionable trinket, squinting her eyes at the disturbed night sea. What she truly sought was chaos, and having been told the other day that, on Earth, water was the most mutable of the elements, the wizard now waited for something truly bizarre to happen.
Alas, nothing strange had happened! Waves came, went, so did gulls, crabs, the odd tourist, and hours passed. The one lasting development was cold, belching from the waves as a thick wall of mist. A clammy portent of rain?
"Parapluie." she ordered, being handed what was clearly a parasol! Zaffran deigned to look at the imp for more than a moment, and wondered if the faceless homunculus had an inner life of its own. How else could it have failed? The little legged abscess was too simple to have its essence corrupted by Mortal living, for it to grow a self, to become fallible... well, it meant that the goat's own magic was weakening.
She hoisted the umbrella, raising it high as a sword, cutting an odd figure with the floral print. The imp looked on, eyeless, expressionless, either unaware or uncaring to the absolute trashing it was about to receive.
TWC: 378
ITEMS AND RESOURCES
Lifeleech, Otherworld Training, Spectral Wrath, Metamorphosis, Raw
ITEMS AND RESOURCES
Lifeleech, Otherworld Training, Spectral Wrath, Metamorphosis, Raw