[It's a flicker that Solomon notices, that draws his attention, even as he himself starts to buckle over with the effort to keep his breathing even.
For Khun, in his ears, like it's him and yet not, he hears the dry and pained gasps of a phantom; a young man, a pained man, a desperate man, not him and not exactly his fellow wizard, but of a fledgling sorcerer hardly in his twenties. Yelling. Mourning. Gasping for pain against the ground, the ache of utter tragedy. The magic exists regardless.
It hurts, and from how Solomon physically shudders along with Khun voluntarily at the waves of power, it's affecting both of them. But the older wizard swallows hard.]
And what happens when rejection runs its limit?
[Like putting a bandage over the end of a hose, hoping for it to stop its torrent?
Does one put a stopper in the unavoidable by willpower alone? Because even against the frigidity of Khun's rejection, the magic still burns, like a pressure ready to explode.
Again. Again.
"Please------- Please, let me take it back!!!!!"
Hoarse words to the dead from the phantom in Khun's ears. Pointless crying from the wolf among the slaughtered lambs. Heaven won't hear you.
So call for help. Make them come from elsewhere. The mind rushes in desperation. To make a circle, a spell, a pleading. Drawing from phantom memories, phantom theories, the mystical and dark and forbidden.
Instinct says a circle is possible. Logic says you will die. Fear smells the blood in the air and feels the burn of your magic like bile in your throat.
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For Khun, in his ears, like it's him and yet not, he hears the dry and pained gasps of a phantom; a young man, a pained man, a desperate man, not him and not exactly his fellow wizard, but of a fledgling sorcerer hardly in his twenties. Yelling. Mourning. Gasping for pain against the ground, the ache of utter tragedy. The magic exists regardless.
It hurts, and from how Solomon physically shudders along with Khun voluntarily at the waves of power, it's affecting both of them. But the older wizard swallows hard.]
And what happens when rejection runs its limit?
[Like putting a bandage over the end of a hose, hoping for it to stop its torrent?
Does one put a stopper in the unavoidable by willpower alone? Because even against the frigidity of Khun's rejection, the magic still burns, like a pressure ready to explode.
Again. Again.
"Please------- Please, let me take it back!!!!!"
Hoarse words to the dead from the phantom in Khun's ears. Pointless crying from the wolf among the slaughtered lambs. Heaven won't hear you.
So call for help. Make them come from elsewhere. The mind rushes in desperation. To make a circle, a spell, a pleading. Drawing from phantom memories, phantom theories, the mystical and dark and forbidden.
Instinct says a circle is possible. Logic says you will die. Fear smells the blood in the air and feels the burn of your magic like bile in your throat.
All Khun needs to do is choose.]