[ there's an unimportant rule about damaging hotel property blah blah, but it doesn't count when there's already blood on the walls from someone or something else, right?
lucas spends a good portion of the day, going around and using that same bloody(?), still-wet(?) paint to draw sealing sigils all over the hotel. it's been a hot minute (a couple centuries) since he's had to draw them by hand, and there's something nostalgic about the process. it does, however, take time. the array itself is complicated - and for all he knows, completely useless at the moment without any mana backing it up.
but he still has his knowledge of magical theories, his understanding of the inherent power nature has, and... he has arthur's mana crystal. while it wasn't strong enough to bypass whatever hold this place had on arthur's magical power, there was still some - there had to have been enough there to keep him alive. the same way some of lucas' powers must linger if he's in this young form. that's what he hopes at least.
only time will tell if this does anything good for them. ]
READING ROOM
[ this room again.
he's not sure why he's back here, in the same chair he slept in that night, staring at the same spot.
(the person he was watching is gone now. good. she shouldn't be here anyway. she can't. )
he'd read something long ago about spirits haunting the places of their passing - and at the time, he'd thought how stupid. why linger after death? now he wonders. maybe there's something wrong with him. maybe his heart has begun to thaw because his magic is missing. that must be the answer, the only explanation for these wretched feelings that won't disappear. ]
WILDCARD:
[ anything goes! on sunday, he does stop by the new rooms for the sake of... whatever excuse he has at the time. ]
no subject
[ there's an unimportant rule about damaging hotel property blah blah, but it doesn't count when there's already blood on the walls from someone or something else, right?
lucas spends a good portion of the day, going around and using that same bloody(?), still-wet(?) paint to draw sealing sigils all over the hotel. it's been a hot minute (a couple centuries) since he's had to draw them by hand, and there's something nostalgic about the process. it does, however, take time. the array itself is complicated - and for all he knows, completely useless at the moment without any mana backing it up.
but he still has his knowledge of magical theories, his understanding of the inherent power nature has, and... he has arthur's mana crystal. while it wasn't strong enough to bypass whatever hold this place had on arthur's magical power, there was still some - there had to have been enough there to keep him alive. the same way some of lucas' powers must linger if he's in this young form. that's what he hopes at least.
only time will tell if this does anything good for them. ]
READING ROOM
[ this room again.
he's not sure why he's back here, in the same chair he slept in that night, staring at the same spot.
(the person he was watching is gone now. good. she shouldn't be here anyway. she can't. )
he'd read something long ago about spirits haunting the places of their passing - and at the time, he'd thought how stupid. why linger after death? now he wonders. maybe there's something wrong with him. maybe his heart has begun to thaw because his magic is missing. that must be the answer, the only explanation for these wretched feelings that won't disappear. ]
WILDCARD:
[ anything goes! on sunday, he does stop by the new rooms for the sake of... whatever excuse he has at the time. ]