Kell's expression darkens, and with a jerk of his chin the red swoop of his hair flies fully back, exposing the jet black of his right eye completely. Normally this blunt show of magic is all it takes, but something in the man's stance tells him he's not as cowed as Kell would like him to be.
His fingers flex against the wall. The doors must work. They always have before, Kell only needs to command. Magic is chaos, so you must be calm. Are you calm, Kell? But Tieren's weathered voice gives way to Holland's, and Kell shudders. You are either magic's master, or its slave.
Drawing the knife from its sheath at his wrist, Kell turns his arm wrist up and slashes, opening the vein so that his red blood arcs high, painting a strip up the wall. "As travars," Kell says in a hard voice, and when nothing happens a third time the tenuous hold he has on his own nerves breaks. Summoning wind with a thought, Kell pushes a powerful gust against the stranger's back to draw him closer, intent on terrifying the truth from him if he will not give it freely.
At least he means to, but with the first puff of wind, Kell's knees buckle, and he finds himself kneeling on the boardwalk, gray faced and shaking as he continues to bleed. The air he means to control slips through his numbed fingers, and Kell blinks through the dark spots dancing before his eyes. Too much magic. Too much blood.
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momijizukamori
no subject
Date: 2016-02-24 11:15 pm (UTC)His fingers flex against the wall. The doors must work. They always have before, Kell only needs to command. Magic is chaos, so you must be calm. Are you calm, Kell? But Tieren's weathered voice gives way to Holland's, and Kell shudders. You are either magic's master, or its slave.
Drawing the knife from its sheath at his wrist, Kell turns his arm wrist up and slashes, opening the vein so that his red blood arcs high, painting a strip up the wall. "As travars," Kell says in a hard voice, and when nothing happens a third time the tenuous hold he has on his own nerves breaks. Summoning wind with a thought, Kell pushes a powerful gust against the stranger's back to draw him closer, intent on terrifying the truth from him if he will not give it freely.
At least he means to, but with the first puff of wind, Kell's knees buckle, and he finds himself kneeling on the boardwalk, gray faced and shaking as he continues to bleed. The air he means to control slips through his numbed fingers, and Kell blinks through the dark spots dancing before his eyes. Too much magic. Too much blood.
"Sanct."