[OPEN] the stuff of montages

[sighsheavily]

🧙 WHO: Cecelia Ardenbury, OPEN
⚔️️ WHAT: A space for magical training/assessment and the viewing of the Calamity (ref: network announcement)
🕒 WHEN: Oct
🗺️ WHERE: The Ambassador office (Camelot), Red Spring, End of the World
⚠️ WARNINGS: In subject headers as needed

SIGN IN HERE is written just above the lines of names and dates of previous visits.

There is a small table setting by the window on the opposite side, where tea is still piping hot and waiting - just in case anyone is inclined to it. Miss Ardenbury prefers spiced, robust dark brews to anything light or floral, so novice tea tongues beware.

Where once was an empty wall is now a length of engineer's drafting paper, and upon it is the sketching of two views: One, the top-down topography of the calamitous end of the world; the other being a more man's-eye view of the location. There are a few representations of the fluctuating starburst in the sky as well, alongside some peculiar, indecipherable shorthand notes in small, neat lettering.

Miss Ardenbury herself sits at an oak desk further in amongst her stack of borrowed books and personal journals, likely still scratching away or having herself some of that tea. She doesn't even look up right away to greet - the bell was signal enough for her to call:

"Do be sure to sign in, thank you. What business do you have here today?"

Comments

[luciing]

At last she uses movement of her own t to augment her ability, and it's all the more powerful for it. This comes as no surprise, for kinetic magic is works similarly. This does not make Somnus more prepared to counter the new force behind her power.

She catches him mid-step, and his balance wavers dangerously as his heel catches the ground at an skewed angle. To catch himself from properly falling, his stance widens, and he pivots, a practiced two-step for an experienced combatant. Nevertheless, Somnus' brow furrows with the effort it takes both to balance and to fight the seize she has upon his leg and arm. He lets out a leaden, short breath through his nose, frowning with the effort.

Despite the scowl he wears: good. This is good. It would not be training without exertion.

[sighsheavily]

What a twisted magic this is! Cecelia has very good reasons she's kept her nose out of necromancy and blood-related magics throughout her centuries - just reading up on it was enough for her. Even the blood ritual-laden druids weren't this perverse in their power...and Avalon's deigned she and others to just simply have this capacity?

Disgusting.

Cecelia's displeasure is painted onto her stony features even as she continues the work, now imposing the will to make him stop, straighten up, and turn. About face.

[luciing]

With one arm down and another leg compromised, he doesn't have much leeway to fight against her magic's next commands, even if he does appear to slow the actions themselves each step of the way. As a result, his retaliation makes the way his body straightens and turns a grueling and lengthy process. That stalling of her command is progress in of itself, even if it's not lovely to behold the rigidity of his resisting movements.

But with each strained second that passes, more of his blood remains caught within the limb and vessels she guides and less is delivered back to the heart. Ischemia discolors the distal tips of his fingers, and pallor sets within the sharp features of his face, a thin sheen of cold sweat appearing upon his brow.

It seems he's nearing his limit, but he's stubbornly refraining from giving in completely. He's stopped in his path, yes, but Somnus turns his head sharply to the side, in defiance of standing at attention for her.

[sighsheavily]

That stubborn gesture receives a grim smirk in return. Is this still not enough? She's certainly not trying to keep him from saying so. As her expression shifts back to flint, her eyes sharpen as she makes a more intentional gesture to pull his form - to cross one forearm over his front, the other at his back, and bow.

[luciing]

It seems he's one of those men who would sooner kick themselves than kneel to another, because as soon as her power attempts to force him to bow, his efforts to resist redouble. She does manage to force one arm to his back, but the other strains and jerks hideously in an attempt to prevent it from crossing over his chest.

A thin sheen of sweat dots his forehead, and his breathing comes heavier than before. Despite this his body's effort to compensate, he remains pale; when he speaks, it's through a clenched jaw, with a low, raspy voice-- all signs that he's lost. Rather than succumbing to the indignity she forces, he calls the spar.

"Enough."

[sighsheavily]

Cecelia doesn't miss a beat, dropping that control the very second the word hits her ears. She was eager to, honestly, because his struggling only made her all the more uncomfortable and nauseous; this definitely doesn't suit her way at all.

With a soft huff, she steps away, turning around so she can recompose herself with out risking scrutiny of the shifting of her expression. She just needs a moment to smooth that strain out and keep from swearing aloud, clenching and unclenching her fingers while her arms are pressed stiffly at her sides.

I hate this.

...Yes, how insightful and useful. Move along--

She turns back around, frowning over at him.

"Did I injure you in any way that needs tending to?"

[luciing]

When she releases her hold and turns her back to him, she'll only hear the sudden shuffling of his boots as if he's just barely managed from collapsing, then a slow, rattling inhale. Silence follows. Then, in a too-tightly controlled tone, he replies.

"Nay."

When she turns back to look at him, his hand raises to his breast to press solidly over his heart. Somnus' palm lingers there for far too many moments, as if the beating there beneath his tunic is foreign to him. His eyes are shut; he is clammy, grey. ...But recovering enough to speak up again.

"You have my gratitude, Ambassador."

[sighsheavily]

Cecelia folds her arms to stifle an incoming shiver of disgust that rolls across her, defiantly lifting her chin to keep steady and ever onward.

"It took a fair amount of focus to push you that far," she remarks. "And I'd imagine such tactics being used in a vacuum like this is rare, so you'd likely have the advantage of other stressful elements in play were you to be faced with a true opponent."

[luciing]

"Practicing as such will build a foundation," he replies, smoothing out the drape of his cloak, then straightening his posture.

For him, if there is no other way to defend against such attacks by a bloodmage, this sort of training will have to do. For her, it's doubtful that there are many others who would so readily volunteer to have their blood manipulated even in practice.

With one final run of his hand through his hair, he appears back to normal. "There is not much in ways to defend other than to break the caster's concentration. Or do you know if it is a matter of distance as well?"

[sighsheavily]

"I don't," she admits reluctantly. "That's just one more thing to test. But before then, I'd be more comfortable if you were looked over by a healer, should you be in connection to one. Just to be certain before pursuing things any further.

"Is that agreeable?"

[luciing]

With the faintest amount of reluctance, he replies, "You do not wish to continue?"

This man has no self-preservation.

[sighsheavily]

"Respectfully, this isn't something to recklessly push through. We're dealing with matters that could do you irreparable harm in unseen places if we're not careful, yes?" And she's not having that on her conscience.

"If you can confirm with more certainty I've done you no lingering damage, then I'll agree to continue these...exercises." She shakes her head a little, starting to mutter to herself: "It needs documentation anyway, for better or worse."

[luciing]

Her point causes his tone to settle back to is usual grimness. The Ambassador wants to ensure her magic has no lasting consequences? He can oblige.

"Very well. We shall continue this another day."

...He'll have to find a Healer, then.

[sighsheavily]

Cecelia really is the worst kind of teacher: Homework? Group homework?

She nods her approval, doing a brief check of her hands and taking stock of her stamina. It...really didn't take much out of her in the long run - not like the transport bangle for the calamity. She's not sure if she should be pleased by that, however.

"You've a Camelot totem, yes?"

[luciing]

Somnus shakes his head once.

"No, for I have business in the Red Springs."

What that business is, he doesn't clarify.

[sighsheavily]

Her ear twitches at that, feeling a pulse of agitation. She should've confirmed that prior to departing, rather than just assuming he'd remembered her entire message...

Gads.

"I'll leave you to it, then," she replies curtly, refusing to reveal any of her annoyance, instead opting to politely nod and excuse herself to go...find a stupid horse...