[ Observation is his forte. He seldom interferes, but this world has changed things -- changed him, in its own ways. And it is difficult now, he finds, to only watch when he wants to touch. The magic of the sigil all but sings to him, resonating and filling the small clearing his shrine is in; he thinks that its magic might linger long after the sigil is gone.
It is terribly strange to watch Grell push the sigil inside herself. Her ability to do so despite the pain it causes is commendable, though no expression flickers across his face until it is in at last and she is finally done. She will not, he thinks, like the news. ]
No.
[ He raises a hand, as if he can touch the power pouring off the sigils, as if it truly is water. ]
no subject
It is terribly strange to watch Grell push the sigil inside herself. Her ability to do so despite the pain it causes is commendable, though no expression flickers across his face until it is in at last and she is finally done. She will not, he thinks, like the news. ]
No.
[ He raises a hand, as if he can touch the power pouring off the sigils, as if it truly is water. ]
It has simply made your entire being a target.