“Bleed out”… Believe me, I’ve been in worse shape than this. I’m tired, but I’m not dying.
[As if to prove his point, Stephen waves a hand towards a pile of books that had fallen off their shelving and strewn on the floor. All at once, they lift into the air and circle about, then situate themselves in the same order in which they sat before a nightmare monster barreled through.
It’s a secondary motion, though, just a basic level spell that’s barely worth the whole of his concentration. Instead, Stephen’s focus is drawn to the tinkling of the wind chimes, and the personal care she’s put into it via a strand of hair.]
What’s so special about the wind chimes?
[He feels the magic imbued in them—can see a portion of it thanks to her display—but this witch’s spellcraft is foreign to him. He can’t quite figure its purpose.]
no subject
[As if to prove his point, Stephen waves a hand towards a pile of books that had fallen off their shelving and strewn on the floor. All at once, they lift into the air and circle about, then situate themselves in the same order in which they sat before a nightmare monster barreled through.
It’s a secondary motion, though, just a basic level spell that’s barely worth the whole of his concentration. Instead, Stephen’s focus is drawn to the tinkling of the wind chimes, and the personal care she’s put into it via a strand of hair.]
What’s so special about the wind chimes?
[He feels the magic imbued in them—can see a portion of it thanks to her display—but this witch’s spellcraft is foreign to him. He can’t quite figure its purpose.]