PM to join Laughter in the Fog (Clyde)

[Volanaro]

39th of Spring, 514

Again, the Nuit found himself within the Courtyards of Sahova. The place breathed life and magic, but without the ring on his finger that the strange human had shown him several days before, Volanaro was restricted. He hated it. Hated it! He wanted to look around! He wanted to play! He wanted to go back into the dungeons that he had entered and play with the toys that those of Sahova got to play with. But, no! Volanaro was no granted these permissions, he was not allowed to play, and the Nuit quickly began to realize that perhaps he needed to do a few things before he could play as he wanted to.

The very same day that he had arrived from the boat, the Nuit was given a preview of what Sahova was capable of. He was allowed to do... whatever came to mind! Anything! But first he needed the proof that was required. And while he was not quite sure as to what he had to do in order to get such a privilege, he knew, at the least, that he wanted to stick around and find out.

But, for the moment! He had a place to play with. This Courtyard, marked with its silly graves burying dead toys in the cold, dank floor, was filled with possibility. Fog masked the graves, licking at the stony surface of the headstone, obscuring the detail from sight. Small footsteps propelled the Nuit forward, fingers caressing the graves that he passed by, a smile gracing his features, curling his lips as he pulled at the djed caged within his soul.

The other day, he had figured out that fog was nothing more or less than water, scattered about in the air, kept light enough to float about and cast its moisture upon whatever touched it. It clung to the skin, condensing upon the Nuit's cold flesh and bestowing upon it dampness. The fog moved about in the empty courtyard in swirling, white haze, obscuring from the Nuit the view of the ghosts that had removed his hood from his head the other day, and Volanaro didn't bother to look around for them.

Instead, he found himself a grave whose headstone was the approximate size of his torso, a bright smile gracing his features as the Nuit sat himself down against the headstone. Ramie robes pressed into the black, cracked soil of the grave, the Nuit's back pressed to the rough stone as he clapped his hands, setting his mindset into that of magic as he lifted his chin, to watch the fog swirl over his head again.

The Nuit lifted his fingers into the air, allowing a deep breath to escape his lungs as he pulled upon his djed again, feeling the sensation ripple in his chest for several moments before he directed his djed into the tips of his fingers, willing the concentration to seep from his palms, emitting as a swell of crimson gas, swirling about in mimicry of the fog above, trickling against his fingers before he coaxed more to flow from his palms. In a matter of fifteen ticks, the Nuit's fingers and hands were licked with the crimson gas, covered the digits like a glove, the texture swirling about, breathing against the dead skin and rippling as Volanaro willed for what he called Magnetism to commence.

The thought triggered the reaction in the Res, the material parting from his skin, coating his hand in a glove raised a quarter of an inch from his skin as his hands raised above his head. The fog began to obey the command of Volanaro's Magnetism, coaxing from the ambient, swirling pattern in the air above and floating towards the collective of gaseous Res.

Liquid bonded with liquid, what was fog just moments before coalescing, gathering together to form precipitation against the gaseous gloves. In a chime's time, the gloves thickened to the point of being an inch in depth, the collective of water controlled and attracted to the Res that Volanaro kept under his control, bright laughter escaping his lips as the fog above inevitably spread itself to cover the tiny space that Volanaro had taken from it.

The Nuit's spine tingled with the familiar, powerful pleasure of magic, laughter bubbling from his lips as amusement materialized upon his expression. The Nuit allowed more Res to feed into the watery gloves, what was once thinly clouded with crimson now completely invaded with it, flooded with it, the Res spinning in the assimilation of water as the collective raised from his palms to gather into a sphere.

The Nuit prepared to trigger magnetism again, wondering if the larger concentration of Res would allow him to magnetize the fog above faster.

Is it speed or quantity that pouring more Res into the mixture will allow? Or both? Normally, I choose not to deal in massive plots of Res, as the increase in Res weakens my control over it, but... this is the place to test it out, isn't it?

The thought to consider flooding even more Res into the collective crossed his mind, but... the sphere was formed, he'd flood it later.

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde had been curious of the courtyard for some time now. He knew it had something to do with ghosts, and no doubt Elaine knew more about it than him. But he could not help being a bit curious of it... Not to mention, if it was so well known for ghosts, perhaps there was a spiritist or two about who could show him a thing or two. His own skills in spiritism, particularly when compared to his greater magics, was left wanting. So surely a venture into a ghostly area would aid him in his more ghost related interactional skills. Plus unlike before, he had his new Magic Staff, which could touch ghosts. That could very well come in handy. So in this case, he did not feel so unarmed against spirits as he had before. Not that he ever really had, not with his Reimancy which was able to injure ghostly flesh just as well as the mundane living variety. Once he arrived though, he realized he would not be able to see all to well. Not with the entire place covered in a thick layer of fog. He had a feeling said fog was some indicator of ghosts, or was somehow linked to ghosts, but could not recall exactly how. Yet another time when his lack of knowledge on spirits left him puzzled or lost. As Clyde wandered about trying to investigate the place, he felt a familiar hum vibrate across his skin, heard not by his ears but by his flesh. The hum continued for a time, when suddenly Clyde heard laughter from off to his right, as the high pitched hum continued in the background. The laugh, unlike the hum, was a actual sound. Curious, Clyde turned that way, and began to move towards it. By know Clyde had place the hum, had placed what it reminded him of... It reminded Clyde of the hum of magic he "heard"/felt as he was actively Magecrafting. It was a similar sensation, but of a different pitch. And where his Magecrafted made a refined series of pitches and sounds that melded into a crescendo, this was just a single high pitched humming note brushing against him. Clyde was fairly certain something magical was about, and that it was not Magecrafting, but unless he began to quest about at random with his Auristical focus he could not find it magically. Which meant his best option was to simply find it mundanely. At the moment his best lead seemed to be the laughter he had heard. Ass he was thinking this, Clyde noticed a small lessening in the thickness of the fog. As he took a few more steps it thickened a bit more. A few more steps, and he walked into a open spot that seemed fog-less. Instead there was a small humanoid shape standing before him, not that of a adult, but something smaller. Tentatively, Clyde called out to the vague shape, unsure if it was alive or dead, or something altogether neither. “Hello? Is someone there?” As he said this he continued to slowly pace towards the figure. Of course he knew if he could see this thing, it could also see him. Assuming it was facing him. But then even if it was not, then his stating of his presence would likely make whatever it was turn to face him.