Syrlya | The Commander (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chronosynthesis) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lostcarnival2018-08-24 02:20 pm
chronosynthesis) wrote in lostcarnival2018-08-24 02:20 pm
Entry tags:
[Closed]
Who: Syrlya and Strange
When: Day 90
Where: Their trailer
What: Syrlya finishes working out a new portal spell shortly after they leave Eden
Syrlya's injuries are, thankfully, not debilitating. Shamshel left long, nasty iron-claw scars across his chest, but the wound it shallow enough that he's not restricted to rest in the medical tent. The rest of his injuries are even more superficial, so once he has the wounds cleaned and bandaged he's back to the trailer--and back to work. He's down to just his pants for the comfort, which reveals under the bandages the bone-like pattern that's discolored the leaves along his spine and ribs--and a growth of what looks like feathers, dark purple, from his tailbone. He's trying to ignore that.
The mirror's been pulled down from the bathroom again, although this time propped against a bookshelf in the trailer rather than laying on the floor among the papers. He has a short knife he's used to edge runes into the back of it, running along the side, and the glass is now clouded by the swirling, incomplete entrance of a portal. He waits for a minute, and once he assures the stability he grins.
"I've got it!" He says with more enthusiasm than he meets anything else likely, tapping the knife against the side of the mirror.
When: Day 90
Where: Their trailer
What: Syrlya finishes working out a new portal spell shortly after they leave Eden
Syrlya's injuries are, thankfully, not debilitating. Shamshel left long, nasty iron-claw scars across his chest, but the wound it shallow enough that he's not restricted to rest in the medical tent. The rest of his injuries are even more superficial, so once he has the wounds cleaned and bandaged he's back to the trailer--and back to work. He's down to just his pants for the comfort, which reveals under the bandages the bone-like pattern that's discolored the leaves along his spine and ribs--and a growth of what looks like feathers, dark purple, from his tailbone. He's trying to ignore that.
The mirror's been pulled down from the bathroom again, although this time propped against a bookshelf in the trailer rather than laying on the floor among the papers. He has a short knife he's used to edge runes into the back of it, running along the side, and the glass is now clouded by the swirling, incomplete entrance of a portal. He waits for a minute, and once he assures the stability he grins.
"I've got it!" He says with more enthusiasm than he meets anything else likely, tapping the knife against the side of the mirror.