in tenebris est veritas.
“The easy magic,” she replies to the final question, one hand rising to slide along the opposite forearm in a pensive gesture. Then her arm tightens and bends as her hand falls into its crook, like a decision or a dare. “Unless you would prefer to witness a more complicated ritual. A divination, a warding, an augmentation.”
She looks toward the little puddle that was left behind by the strained hair, which joins with the wet rock and is eventually swallowed up by the undulating waves just beyond. The translucent aquamarine of a Torcher coast was another shade of blue, like sea glass and secrets.
“No one makes the decisions,” Chaele clarifies, her skull-mask turned at just the right angle for her to see Pihu clearly out of one dark eye. “Or really, we all do. By associating the color with certain emotions or virtues or ideas, we instill those same symbols into the color. That is all magic is, all spirits are. The power of our collective intention.”
She looks toward the little puddle that was left behind by the strained hair, which joins with the wet rock and is eventually swallowed up by the undulating waves just beyond. The translucent aquamarine of a Torcher coast was another shade of blue, like sea glass and secrets.
“No one makes the decisions,” Chaele clarifies, her skull-mask turned at just the right angle for her to see Pihu clearly out of one dark eye. “Or really, we all do. By associating the color with certain emotions or virtues or ideas, we instill those same symbols into the color. That is all magic is, all spirits are. The power of our collective intention.”
