For most of the process Felix stands aside in the shadows, circling to get a better view of what Naugus is doing. He reaches out just enough to try and sense how Naugus’s power threads the space of the prospective gateway. It's entrancing to watch.
There’s a shift in the air when the portal finally takes shape. The shadows seem to gather close among the cracked columns and beneath the fountain, clinging to the folds of the mages’ clothes, spilling out from beneath the portal’s foot. It’s a strange light that shines from within, leaching color from everything around that gate, so that Naugus’ beard looks black and his robes are bleached to white. The birds have fallen silent in the trees. Only a nightingale sings high and lonely outside the ruin's gate.
Naugus can likely feel more, in that last push to open the door. There’s a momentary sense of immense will: distant, shifting, amused perhaps – before the barrier unfolds. As it does the very leylines shift violently. Some fold back to avoid the gate, others are drawn around and into it. Felix starts at the sharp sense of sudden warping in the world around him.
But now it’s his turn, and he steps forward. He bows to his fellow mage, acknowledgment of a part well played, then turns to the portal and spreads his hands. Could they be seen beneath the hood, his eyes are distant; his mind is reaching out beyond the portal, focused on the invitation he’s extending.
“I call upon Lady Nocturnal, Empress of Shadow, Saint of Suspicion, Mistress of Mystery. Hear my voice and grant us audience!” His voice is clear and sure. No shouting. No elaboration. He simply waits, eyes locked on the gate to the Evergloam.
In answer the shadows surge together before them. The Daedra Lord rises from them in a blaze of purple-white power and a storm of black wings, crows scattering from her presence into the dark. She might appear human beneath the grey cloak and cowl that drape her, though she must be eight feet tall and her bare feet do not touch the ground. In the strange shadow-light her skin seems very pale, her eyes black and unreadable. Felix bows to her respectfully. She hardly seems to notice as she studies the pair.
“Well, well. It’s been quite some time since a mortal mage forged a new gateway to my realm.” Her voice is mellow and quite unimpressed. “I expected you to call upon me, little one,” this to Felix, before her attention turns on Naugus, “but you do not belong to his mortal realm. How intriguing.”
Found my notes and wow this got long.
There’s a shift in the air when the portal finally takes shape. The shadows seem to gather close among the cracked columns and beneath the fountain, clinging to the folds of the mages’ clothes, spilling out from beneath the portal’s foot. It’s a strange light that shines from within, leaching color from everything around that gate, so that Naugus’ beard looks black and his robes are bleached to white. The birds have fallen silent in the trees. Only a nightingale sings high and lonely outside the ruin's gate.
Naugus can likely feel more, in that last push to open the door. There’s a momentary sense of immense will: distant, shifting, amused perhaps – before the barrier unfolds. As it does the very leylines shift violently. Some fold back to avoid the gate, others are drawn around and into it. Felix starts at the sharp sense of sudden warping in the world around him.
But now it’s his turn, and he steps forward. He bows to his fellow mage, acknowledgment of a part well played, then turns to the portal and spreads his hands. Could they be seen beneath the hood, his eyes are distant; his mind is reaching out beyond the portal, focused on the invitation he’s extending.
“I call upon Lady Nocturnal, Empress of Shadow, Saint of Suspicion, Mistress of Mystery. Hear my voice and grant us audience!” His voice is clear and sure. No shouting. No elaboration. He simply waits, eyes locked on the gate to the Evergloam.
In answer the shadows surge together before them. The Daedra Lord rises from them in a blaze of purple-white power and a storm of black wings, crows scattering from her presence into the dark. She might appear human beneath the grey cloak and cowl that drape her, though she must be eight feet tall and her bare feet do not touch the ground. In the strange shadow-light her skin seems very pale, her eyes black and unreadable. Felix bows to her respectfully. She hardly seems to notice as she studies the pair.
“Well, well. It’s been quite some time since a mortal mage forged a new gateway to my realm.” Her voice is mellow and quite unimpressed. “I expected you to call upon me, little one,” this to Felix, before her attention turns on Naugus, “but you do not belong to his mortal realm. How intriguing.”