[observation is all she needs, no interference. she had been alone, out in the moors when she'd done it the first time, and she doesn't want to warn him of what's going to happen to her. unwrapping the sigil, it is dark, with slight rainbows touching upon it where the light makes its way through. the language carved on the surface is like none seen before, incomprehensible but meaning something quite important.
she tucks it under her arm while she pulls off her gloves, stuffing those in her pocket before she finally holds it in her hands. for a second, Grell looks quite distant -- let go, let go, death-creature, you can let go and be as before, untied -- until she grits her teeth and stares it down, talking back in her head. we can let go later, but for now, be what you are and do not connect to this form like you are, come within, exist in yourself and I will care for you. I will love you. later, later, I have promised.
something about the sigil gives a feeling like there is a ripple across the world, and she brings it up to her chest, pushing it into her where it meets flesh. her face twists, and the power is still brightly burning even as it goes in slowly. carefully, she lowers herself to her knees, gone ashen and breathing hard as the process continues. a cry of pain escapes, despite how she had wanted to be brave and silent in front of someone else (better than how she had screamed on the moors), and she's shaking as it keeps on. agony, her bones cracked open, the sting of a whip and salt water poured in the cuts. burning and freezing and so, so much all over.
but finally, finally, it was in, and she stumbles so badly when she tries to get up she almost pitches herself into the dirt. when she manages to speak, she's much quieter, using a nearby tree as support while she regains feeling in her legs.]
Did...it work?
[it did not. the combined brilliance of two sigils is too much, the power radiating out from her rather than the object itself now. water spilling from an overfull jug, as she had said.]
no subject
she tucks it under her arm while she pulls off her gloves, stuffing those in her pocket before she finally holds it in her hands. for a second, Grell looks quite distant -- let go, let go, death-creature, you can let go and be as before, untied -- until she grits her teeth and stares it down, talking back in her head. we can let go later, but for now, be what you are and do not connect to this form like you are, come within, exist in yourself and I will care for you. I will love you. later, later, I have promised.
something about the sigil gives a feeling like there is a ripple across the world, and she brings it up to her chest, pushing it into her where it meets flesh. her face twists, and the power is still brightly burning even as it goes in slowly. carefully, she lowers herself to her knees, gone ashen and breathing hard as the process continues. a cry of pain escapes, despite how she had wanted to be brave and silent in front of someone else (better than how she had screamed on the moors), and she's shaking as it keeps on. agony, her bones cracked open, the sting of a whip and salt water poured in the cuts. burning and freezing and so, so much all over.
but finally, finally, it was in, and she stumbles so badly when she tries to get up she almost pitches herself into the dirt. when she manages to speak, she's much quieter, using a nearby tree as support while she regains feeling in her legs.]
Did...it work?
[it did not. the combined brilliance of two sigils is too much, the power radiating out from her rather than the object itself now. water spilling from an overfull jug, as she had said.]