Watching Thomas’ face carefully, Orinei nodded silently. She glanced back and forth between the box and Thomas’ face, looking a bit apprehensive. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the knife; she knew it was coming, though, and as the blade slid through his skin her expression did not change. At his direction not to move, she nodded. This was not the time to get insolent and do things her own way.
In the moments before the blood began to fall, it was as if time stopped.
As the drops hit the chalk, kicking up dust in the calamitous air of the lab, the very air seemed to roar and lash through Orinei’s ears. The Djed crackled on her skin, running up and down it like so many bolts of electricity, like so many little hands pulling at her skin, her hair, but simultaneously pushing in on her from all directions. It was wild. It was an incredibly strange experience, and the power of it frightened her. She must have looked quite a sight: her eyes were wide, spooked and staring, her figure rigid in its cross-legged pose within the circle.
When Thomas flicked his wrist, the energy did not cease, but seemed to become more organized; for a moment, as he shaped it, it ceased to pull at her as hard as it had. However, as Thomas began to force the Djed in its figure-eight pattern, the tugging began again, more intensely. It felt as if she was being ripped apart from the inside; somewhere, in the back of her mind, she noted this process as the copying of the soul—she had read about this. But the feeling was unlike anything else. The Djed within her felt like a battering ram, clattering against her ribs, trying to fight its way out.
When he finally spoke, it took her a moment to find a response, still feeling the churning of the energy within her. Directives. You know this. “Yes,” she said breathlessly, nodding quickly. Though she was frightened, it was exhilarating—she couldn’t wait to try it on her own.
In the moments before the blood began to fall, it was as if time stopped.
As the drops hit the chalk, kicking up dust in the calamitous air of the lab, the very air seemed to roar and lash through Orinei’s ears. The Djed crackled on her skin, running up and down it like so many bolts of electricity, like so many little hands pulling at her skin, her hair, but simultaneously pushing in on her from all directions. It was wild. It was an incredibly strange experience, and the power of it frightened her. She must have looked quite a sight: her eyes were wide, spooked and staring, her figure rigid in its cross-legged pose within the circle.
When Thomas flicked his wrist, the energy did not cease, but seemed to become more organized; for a moment, as he shaped it, it ceased to pull at her as hard as it had. However, as Thomas began to force the Djed in its figure-eight pattern, the tugging began again, more intensely. It felt as if she was being ripped apart from the inside; somewhere, in the back of her mind, she noted this process as the copying of the soul—she had read about this. But the feeling was unlike anything else. The Djed within her felt like a battering ram, clattering against her ribs, trying to fight its way out.
When he finally spoke, it took her a moment to find a response, still feeling the churning of the energy within her. Directives. You know this. “Yes,” she said breathlessly, nodding quickly. Though she was frightened, it was exhilarating—she couldn’t wait to try it on her own.
