Felix was expecting them to react. Bracing himself against a sudden demand. He thought he was ready.
He didn't actually think they'd try to go through him.
The breeze becomes a gale, the gale becomes a howl, and all the soothing words and diplomacy he had in mind gets ripped away in an instant. Before a conscious thought can struggle its way across his mind he finds himself swaying in the all-consuming desire flowing from the blades. Bobbing right along with their will. Grab the blades, break the-
NO. His hands slam palms-down onto the wood of the table, smack between the axes. No, no, no! Not yet! It's not his gift to give! Felix is obliging, willing- but this is not what he wants, not what he's here for. He's not here on his own account. He has his own bargain to uphold.
Besides the blunting effect of his wards, that's likely what gives him the strength to pull back to himself. Re-anchoring. He wraps his hands deliberately around the edge of the table. Draws on the wards of the ritual to help hold him steady.
The soul is offered in trade, he thinks deliberately, taking the time to form the thought and put some emphasis into it. It is a part of the pact now. If the blades would have it, they must come to terms.
no subject
He didn't actually think they'd try to go through him.
The breeze becomes a gale, the gale becomes a howl, and all the soothing words and diplomacy he had in mind gets ripped away in an instant. Before a conscious thought can struggle its way across his mind he finds himself swaying in the all-consuming desire flowing from the blades. Bobbing right along with their will. Grab the blades, break the-
NO. His hands slam palms-down onto the wood of the table, smack between the axes. No, no, no! Not yet! It's not his gift to give! Felix is obliging, willing- but this is not what he wants, not what he's here for. He's not here on his own account. He has his own bargain to uphold.
Besides the blunting effect of his wards, that's likely what gives him the strength to pull back to himself. Re-anchoring. He wraps his hands deliberately around the edge of the table. Draws on the wards of the ritual to help hold him steady.
The soul is offered in trade, he thinks deliberately, taking the time to form the thought and put some emphasis into it. It is a part of the pact now. If the blades would have it, they must come to terms.