Syrlya may have less experience with the Fae, but he's seen enough of them and those like them that he can piece their perspective together. Rita only confirms it.
"You will. Do you think you are above it?" He has a glove on, but even though that he can fill the heat from Ignatius. It's gradually painful, but he doesn't pull back. Whatever, he's had this arm immolated anyway, he can take it!
He leans forward, just a bit, in response to Ignatius' pulling back. "You may make a claim to honor, but you are really just abusing your strength to take advantage of those who have less power than you. Does it surprise you when they can fight back?"
He draws his hand back only then to draw a pattern in the air. He knows how the spell will go now. "I don't care if you call yourself Fae, or a god, or a dragon! I have overcome beings as powerful as you before, and you will be no different! My will is stronger than yours. Relent!"
The magic sparks It will be, at first, like pain and a haze. If the name of the game is making shit up as he goes, then it's a good thing Syrlya's spells are already warped on his desire. Syrlya tries to dizzy with his spell, less aware to combat the impression from the magic to talk to them, tell them what he knows. Like an urge, trying to become part of Igantius' own thoughts.
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"You will. Do you think you are above it?" He has a glove on, but even though that he can fill the heat from Ignatius. It's gradually painful, but he doesn't pull back. Whatever, he's had this arm immolated anyway, he can take it!
He leans forward, just a bit, in response to Ignatius' pulling back. "You may make a claim to honor, but you are really just abusing your strength to take advantage of those who have less power than you. Does it surprise you when they can fight back?"
He draws his hand back only then to draw a pattern in the air. He knows how the spell will go now. "I don't care if you call yourself Fae, or a god, or a dragon! I have overcome beings as powerful as you before, and you will be no different! My will is stronger than yours. Relent!"
The magic sparks It will be, at first, like pain and a haze. If the name of the game is making shit up as he goes, then it's a good thing Syrlya's spells are already warped on his desire. Syrlya tries to dizzy with his spell, less aware to combat the impression from the magic to talk to them, tell them what he knows. Like an urge, trying to become part of Igantius' own thoughts.