extramural | CONTACT ;; eachdraidh

Just us.

[ His head tilts. ]

[she seems to relax some, hands loosening as she folds her arms.]

...I'm using my body as a vessel for one of the sigils. And I need to hide another, and I don't know if my shard can protect them at the same time.

Really?

[ He leans forward, as if by simply staring at her he can figure out how she's done it. ]

Did you swallow it?

No, nor did I cut myself open. I...

[how best to explain this.]

It spoke to me, and I spoke back. I told it what I wanted, and it agreed, passed through my flesh and bone, settling in for now. Magic of a sort that I can't properly express other than to say that it happened.

Fascinating. But this will not work with the second?

[ He knows far too little about how the sigils operate, honestly, and he can't help but be curious. ]

Oh, I'm certain it can work. What I'm less certain of is if when I place it, will its presence be blocked by my body and shard as the first is? Or will it leak out, like a jug overfilled with water?

Can you remove the sigil after it is placed? Perhaps a practical attempt is the best option, with someone who will not attempt to take either from you should their power leak telling you if they can sense it.

If I can place it, I'm sure I can remove it.

[...]

Would you consent to overseeing this test?

[ He was hoping you'd ask. ]

I would. I will need to know what it feels like before you place it, however.

I can bring it to another shrine of yours -- I've heard whisperings that one exists to the north of Caer Scima?

[because like hell she is bringing it unsuppressed into this city.]

There is one, yes. Built by the Unseelie when I was first brought into this world, in case they had need of me and were not shardbearers. It is seldom used.

[ For now. ]

I will meet you there. Soon.

[she'll find out where it is. and she'll have Disconnection by her side when she does.]

I will be there physically for this, I think. Simply let me know.

[so later, she sends him a message over the lockets. one word.]

Now.

[for her part, she's been using the spare time to conduct her own usual exercises with magic. the wards are giving her trouble, though whether that's inexperience or stress is something she's not going to address. eventually she ends up dispelling them and uses a stick to practice her runes in a patch of dirt she clears. something to focus on, rather than the whispers she know will start when she touches the sigil again.

its presence, for the magic sensitive, is like a light in a dark field.]

[ The Outsider arrives astride his black horse (that he rarely rides, much to its relief). He does not so much dismount as he suddenly appears off the horse next to Grell, eyes fixed on where the not-as-hidden sigil rests. ]

That is... quite something.

You see why it must be kept quiet.

[she stands and wipes away the runes with her foot.]

And why Reynard wanted it, along with the others.

Yes.

[ it's so shiny can he touch it ]

I can only sense the one, but there is so much power that it is- well, I do certainly see why you are cautious to attempt to hide both with one shard.

I didn't know who I could trust to watch over it, except myself. Keeping it in motion will only do so much, and I certainly can't go to face their Majesties with such a thing by my side, broadcasting what it is. While I hold complete respect for Her Majesty...giving her it doesn't feel right.

[taking it out of the bag, it's wrapped in cloth to keep its whispering down in her head. quiet, or you'll wake the other.]

Will you observe, and honestly tell me if I have succeeded or not?

By my word, if that is a thing you trust.

[ The Outsider nods. ]

I will observe, and answer truthfully.

[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.]

[ 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. ]

It has simply made your entire being a target.

[if she was a lesser woman, this would have been where she punched something in frustration. extraction is not going to be easy either, and she can't hide herself in Redgate. she closes her eyes, taking off her glasses, and rubs her temples.

she can't hide this on her own, then.

an idea blooms in her mind, and she puts her glasses back on.]

Outsider...how well do you deal with pain?

[it's probably a bad idea. but then, she'd thought the same thing about taunting Reynard, about leaping from a mile high in the sky, about making promises to people she might not be able to keep. and so far, her luck had held out. the question was, was someone willing.]

[ She could, technically, but it would hardly be living. She would be a prisoner to the sigils inside of her, and one such as Grell would not enjoy it.

Still. Her question takes him off-guard. ]

Fairly well.

[ He hasn't felt it in a long time since before coming here, but if nothing else, he's very hard to do any permanent damage to. ]

I am not certain if my vocal cords remember how to scream.

[ He's not actually certain if he really has vocal cords or if his entire appearance was just put together by the Void based off what he looked like when he was human. ]

If you've forgotten, this might jog your memory.

[despite her appearance, she smiles, and there's something terrible in it. sharp like a knife dipped in poison before her features contort in pain again. there's light in that area again, and instead of pushing, she's pulling. outward instead of inward. if it's any easier than placing it she's not sure, and she would challenge even the most masochistic to find something good about this.

but eventually it's back in her hands, and she looks from it to the Outsider.]

You're going to want to bare your chest a little. Over where your shard is.

[a pause.the ease at which he's agreed makes her feel like she did something right, contacting him about all this.]

Do you want to do it yourself, or do you want me to?

[ He watches again, intently. She seems to handle it better this time, but perhaps she's simply getting used to it. Either way, when she tells him to bare his chest he does so. His hands raise, being to unfasten buttons and clasps from his jacket (he wears no more clothing in winter than he does any other time, and no less in summer). When it's undone, he does the same with the white shirt he wears underneath.

The skin beneath his clothing is, if it's possible, even paler than the rest of him. ]

You, I think, [ he says, eyeing the sigil in her hands. ] If only to ensure that it is done.

[ A pause, and he asks- ] What is this one called?

CONTACT ;; eachdraidh

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