Though Zarik noticed, in his peripheral, the slave-in-question take her leave, he didn’t draw attention to that fact. He witnessed the captain who met his frustrated outburst with one of her own, albeit much more measured than his. His orange-lit eyes narrowed in a glare when she approached the mage. Easy threats tumbled from her lips. He crossed his arms, if only to restrain his anger and not interrupt her with something he would never be able to take back, apologize for, or make right later.
His tongue tapped against the inside of his cheek, however. Waiting, impatient, stubbornly refusing to say what was on his mind now. The youthful biqaj stood in the place where he’d risen. He endured her tirade with a pout to his lower lip and an averted glare like an adolescent berated for not attending to their day chores.
A bell and a shout interrupted the tiff. He absently watched the woman take up the spyglass and look for whatever it was that had gathered the crew’s attention. Sea Dragon, was called along with an order for ballistas and something else that wasn’t finished but he could make sense of it regardless. Only so many ways to end Transmu, he figured, not that he knew why she paused in her order and changed her mind.
For a moment, Zarik wondered what sort of sea dragon it was – but he didn’t have to wonder for long. Graeslin was next to his side, and she reminded him of a fly as if she were to land on his shoulder and buzz in his ear. He glanced down at her and raised one of his eyebrows in a high arch. She explained to him what sort of monster had gotten the ship in its sights.
“Excuse me?” he repeated when she asked for a demonstration of his ability as a mage. She reminded him of his offer from before, one he had meant in a very different regard. He blatantly rolled his eyes, but the orange hue had receded, and his irises had returned into a cool ice blue color. His darkened halo lightened with a gentle iridescence instead of the shadows.
“To… metal? You want me to…” he laughed shortly. “What do you know, senhorita? You believe I could do such a thing? What ma-”
He was interrupted as the ship shook from impact. Zarik caught himself in slight imbalance. The biqaj’s eyes flashed the vivid orange from before as Graeslin pressed him through use of the children, yet again. She certainly enjoyed such leverage, she used it frequently enough. For several trills, the blue and orange in his eyes wrestled with one another while he stared at the calm pirate queen and considered her gamble. Around them, ballista bolts sunk through the waters and the sea dragon continued its assault on the hull.
Finally, Graeslin made mention that she didn’t see Zarik or Jorsie as innocent lives. The young mage snorted. “Nor did you count yourself. So…” He shrugged a shoulder, his comment thrown aside as soon as he’d said it. He walked away from the space where they were, to look out at the roiling water.
“I can’t do what you ask of me. Not because I don’t want to but because…” he paused, then added, “I can do something, though. But it will last only a short while. I need access to the hull, closest to where it is being assaulted.”
Once he made his way to the determined spot, his steps quick as the lead he was given, he’d rolled up his sleeves past his elbows. Zarik slicked his bangs back to stay out of his way, then knelt on the floor of the ship. The biqaj sighed, set his palms on the hardwood floor of the hull, then closed his eyes to focus.
Into the timber planks, ether sped down through his arms and outward from the mage’s hands to the outer surface of the hull. The distinct scent of magic filled the immediate area around him. His blond hair drifted to fall back around his dark brows, which furrowed in determination while he focused. Something resisted the outward branches of his ethereal web. It wasn’t much but he could feel it there, at the boundaries of his etherist senses. He dodged around whatever force it was and continued to stitch ether into an unseen lattice through the ship’s underframe.
His face paled into a silver shimmer. He stretched his ether past the marring the hull had already underwent from the Keel-Saw’s previous impacts. The hits weren’t enough to sink the ship, but they did create splintered dents that made each thrust of the bladed fin potentially more effective for the one hit that would do the job.
Zarik’s halo dimmed, then brightened in a repeat pattern while ether channeled through his body into Idalos. His wings spread; the gossamer veins crackled as if they contained lightning within the transparent film of their insectoid shape. He connected with the wood, the inherent nature of the material, each particle buzzed in his extended awareness and between those particles, he rapidly guided ether into a weave…
…until his net had been cast over the entire hull of the ship. It didn’t turn to metal. Nothing visibly changed at all. Yet Zarik remained, eyes shut, palms pressed flat against the ground, and ether barely contained within his awakened body while he channeled the magic. He bolstered the ship and when the next Keel-Saw strike would slam against it, the sharp fin wouldn’t do any damage at all.
At least, not for the first one. Nor the second. But by the third scrape of the fin, Zarik’s wings flitted and his eyelashes fluttered to glance ahead of him. He said, though he knew not if Graeslin remained nearby, “Your crew better take that worm out soon. I’m not going to keep this up forever.”
He focused his efforts on the maintenance of his protective ethereal web, fortifying the structure through magical means. Yet pressure gathered at the base of his skull, tremors through his spine. His wings crackled and narrowed in shape. The force from before, the something that had resisted his initial spellwork, it was back and stronger... or was he getting weaker? Zarik couldn't tell. He closed his eyes again, tension flooded his head and neck, his shoulders traveled up to his pointed ears as he shrugged to try and resist whatever it was. Another impact and he swore he could nearly feel the finblade as it nearly smashed through the bolstered field.
Concerned, he shivered and felt a wave of nausea. What if he couldn't hold the ether in place? What if the fin hit too hard and destroyed the hull? Where was Hazel? Oceta? What could he do? There had to be something... he didn't know how to fight a sea dragon though. Another impact. He winced. Another impact. He felt some of the ether gather back into his palms before he forced it back so the entire hull was covered again, before the next attack. His halo's light flickered rapidly and yet, despite the pressure, despite the tension, despite the draining ether he felt drawn out of him by whatever the something was, Zarik refused to give up on the protective measure.
His tongue tapped against the inside of his cheek, however. Waiting, impatient, stubbornly refusing to say what was on his mind now. The youthful biqaj stood in the place where he’d risen. He endured her tirade with a pout to his lower lip and an averted glare like an adolescent berated for not attending to their day chores.
A bell and a shout interrupted the tiff. He absently watched the woman take up the spyglass and look for whatever it was that had gathered the crew’s attention. Sea Dragon, was called along with an order for ballistas and something else that wasn’t finished but he could make sense of it regardless. Only so many ways to end Transmu, he figured, not that he knew why she paused in her order and changed her mind.
For a moment, Zarik wondered what sort of sea dragon it was – but he didn’t have to wonder for long. Graeslin was next to his side, and she reminded him of a fly as if she were to land on his shoulder and buzz in his ear. He glanced down at her and raised one of his eyebrows in a high arch. She explained to him what sort of monster had gotten the ship in its sights.
“Excuse me?” he repeated when she asked for a demonstration of his ability as a mage. She reminded him of his offer from before, one he had meant in a very different regard. He blatantly rolled his eyes, but the orange hue had receded, and his irises had returned into a cool ice blue color. His darkened halo lightened with a gentle iridescence instead of the shadows.
“To… metal? You want me to…” he laughed shortly. “What do you know, senhorita? You believe I could do such a thing? What ma-”
He was interrupted as the ship shook from impact. Zarik caught himself in slight imbalance. The biqaj’s eyes flashed the vivid orange from before as Graeslin pressed him through use of the children, yet again. She certainly enjoyed such leverage, she used it frequently enough. For several trills, the blue and orange in his eyes wrestled with one another while he stared at the calm pirate queen and considered her gamble. Around them, ballista bolts sunk through the waters and the sea dragon continued its assault on the hull.
Finally, Graeslin made mention that she didn’t see Zarik or Jorsie as innocent lives. The young mage snorted. “Nor did you count yourself. So…” He shrugged a shoulder, his comment thrown aside as soon as he’d said it. He walked away from the space where they were, to look out at the roiling water.
“I can’t do what you ask of me. Not because I don’t want to but because…” he paused, then added, “I can do something, though. But it will last only a short while. I need access to the hull, closest to where it is being assaulted.”
Once he made his way to the determined spot, his steps quick as the lead he was given, he’d rolled up his sleeves past his elbows. Zarik slicked his bangs back to stay out of his way, then knelt on the floor of the ship. The biqaj sighed, set his palms on the hardwood floor of the hull, then closed his eyes to focus.
Into the timber planks, ether sped down through his arms and outward from the mage’s hands to the outer surface of the hull. The distinct scent of magic filled the immediate area around him. His blond hair drifted to fall back around his dark brows, which furrowed in determination while he focused. Something resisted the outward branches of his ethereal web. It wasn’t much but he could feel it there, at the boundaries of his etherist senses. He dodged around whatever force it was and continued to stitch ether into an unseen lattice through the ship’s underframe.
His face paled into a silver shimmer. He stretched his ether past the marring the hull had already underwent from the Keel-Saw’s previous impacts. The hits weren’t enough to sink the ship, but they did create splintered dents that made each thrust of the bladed fin potentially more effective for the one hit that would do the job.
Zarik’s halo dimmed, then brightened in a repeat pattern while ether channeled through his body into Idalos. His wings spread; the gossamer veins crackled as if they contained lightning within the transparent film of their insectoid shape. He connected with the wood, the inherent nature of the material, each particle buzzed in his extended awareness and between those particles, he rapidly guided ether into a weave…
…until his net had been cast over the entire hull of the ship. It didn’t turn to metal. Nothing visibly changed at all. Yet Zarik remained, eyes shut, palms pressed flat against the ground, and ether barely contained within his awakened body while he channeled the magic. He bolstered the ship and when the next Keel-Saw strike would slam against it, the sharp fin wouldn’t do any damage at all.
At least, not for the first one. Nor the second. But by the third scrape of the fin, Zarik’s wings flitted and his eyelashes fluttered to glance ahead of him. He said, though he knew not if Graeslin remained nearby, “Your crew better take that worm out soon. I’m not going to keep this up forever.”
He focused his efforts on the maintenance of his protective ethereal web, fortifying the structure through magical means. Yet pressure gathered at the base of his skull, tremors through his spine. His wings crackled and narrowed in shape. The force from before, the something that had resisted his initial spellwork, it was back and stronger... or was he getting weaker? Zarik couldn't tell. He closed his eyes again, tension flooded his head and neck, his shoulders traveled up to his pointed ears as he shrugged to try and resist whatever it was. Another impact and he swore he could nearly feel the finblade as it nearly smashed through the bolstered field.
Concerned, he shivered and felt a wave of nausea. What if he couldn't hold the ether in place? What if the fin hit too hard and destroyed the hull? Where was Hazel? Oceta? What could he do? There had to be something... he didn't know how to fight a sea dragon though. Another impact. He winced. Another impact. He felt some of the ether gather back into his palms before he forced it back so the entire hull was covered again, before the next attack. His halo's light flickered rapidly and yet, despite the pressure, despite the tension, despite the draining ether he felt drawn out of him by whatever the something was, Zarik refused to give up on the protective measure.
