Fall 47 512 AV
The silence in the lab was unfounded. Not a living thing there to disturb him, not even Wrenmae. The wizard had sent the other out on a little errand, to fetch some books on a particular magic called Spiritism. Little did Wrenmane know however is that Rayage had already sent for the books and they had arrived. This chore was just to get some alone time without just sending him out. Normally the nuit wouldn’t have any problem with just bluntly telling the other wizard to get the heck out, but for some reason this way was more tactful. At least in the alchemists eyes that is.
Sitting at his desk the nuit stared at the blank parchment before him, the emptiness almost intimidating him, daring him to write something, but it would take a lot more than just paper to scare Ray into non-action. A slight shift of thought was all that’s needed to regain perspective on the situation. He needed to gather his thoughts, and the blank page was the perfect place to put them. The blank page was not intimidating, but inviting, welcoming the wizard to use it to write the notes of what he will. This paper would be special amongst his collection for he would not be recording alchemical notes, but ones on the basics of spiritism, and of what he had learned in Sunberth about ghosts.
There wouldn’t be much, the nuit thought as quill dipped into inkwell, his thoughts now strong and coherent enough to record on paper, but that is why he had sent for the books. A soft smile spread on his face as he felt the tip of the quill make its first scratches on the paper. It was a precious resource, the paper, and one that needn’t be wasted. His thoughts would be short, but precise on his observations on ghosts and the subject of spiritism. After all these would be his cliffnotes, along with the books, in which he would attempt to introduce Wrenmae in the new world magic. The alchemist half wondered if the other already knew about it, but he banished the thought from his mind as that was impossible. They would have done more than just run from that dira priest if he had, and he wouldn’t have been so helpless against the spirit, like they all were.
The thoughts of that night frustrated the wizard. For as capable as all of them were, Ray and his allies, they were all but helpless against the ghosts. There was a threat to them after all, and that was the servants of death, and the worthless spirits that dwell on Mizahar. The alchemist had no way of harming them. The alchemist was so weak against them. The alchemist had to stop thinking about it, as Ray returned to reality he found his hand was shaking so much that some of the words were malformed, deformed by fear itself. The fear of death. Death was something he had been running from for many, many years, and it was from death he wished to escape. Obviously this nuit form was not the best way, but until a suitable alternative presents itself, then he would remain that way for better or for worse.
The silence in the lab was unfounded. Not a living thing there to disturb him, not even Wrenmae. The wizard had sent the other out on a little errand, to fetch some books on a particular magic called Spiritism. Little did Wrenmane know however is that Rayage had already sent for the books and they had arrived. This chore was just to get some alone time without just sending him out. Normally the nuit wouldn’t have any problem with just bluntly telling the other wizard to get the heck out, but for some reason this way was more tactful. At least in the alchemists eyes that is.
Sitting at his desk the nuit stared at the blank parchment before him, the emptiness almost intimidating him, daring him to write something, but it would take a lot more than just paper to scare Ray into non-action. A slight shift of thought was all that’s needed to regain perspective on the situation. He needed to gather his thoughts, and the blank page was the perfect place to put them. The blank page was not intimidating, but inviting, welcoming the wizard to use it to write the notes of what he will. This paper would be special amongst his collection for he would not be recording alchemical notes, but ones on the basics of spiritism, and of what he had learned in Sunberth about ghosts.
There wouldn’t be much, the nuit thought as quill dipped into inkwell, his thoughts now strong and coherent enough to record on paper, but that is why he had sent for the books. A soft smile spread on his face as he felt the tip of the quill make its first scratches on the paper. It was a precious resource, the paper, and one that needn’t be wasted. His thoughts would be short, but precise on his observations on ghosts and the subject of spiritism. After all these would be his cliffnotes, along with the books, in which he would attempt to introduce Wrenmae in the new world magic. The alchemist half wondered if the other already knew about it, but he banished the thought from his mind as that was impossible. They would have done more than just run from that dira priest if he had, and he wouldn’t have been so helpless against the spirit, like they all were.
The thoughts of that night frustrated the wizard. For as capable as all of them were, Ray and his allies, they were all but helpless against the ghosts. There was a threat to them after all, and that was the servants of death, and the worthless spirits that dwell on Mizahar. The alchemist had no way of harming them. The alchemist was so weak against them. The alchemist had to stop thinking about it, as Ray returned to reality he found his hand was shaking so much that some of the words were malformed, deformed by fear itself. The fear of death. Death was something he had been running from for many, many years, and it was from death he wished to escape. Obviously this nuit form was not the best way, but until a suitable alternative presents itself, then he would remain that way for better or for worse.