"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
The new world was ahead of her. Her Hail Mary’s got her nowhere, and somehow, she knew that they would not. And yet, she clung to her rosary as if she were a toddler clutching her blanket. She smiled and thought of the image of her with fingers; though there was a time in her life that she had walked on her back legs, stroking the world with the hands of a human. In those days, she would have put a hand to her abdomen, feeling the familiar roundness of her belly, and the quickening of new life. She had known Carnage once before… and had resisted him since then… but in all his glory, with the promise of greatness and the nebula overtaking the world, she had bowed before him and allowed him to take her under him—and now the quickening of movement in her body became the tell-tale sign of their union.
There was no need to find him—for he knew them all. Every one of his children (and there were many) were not unwanted by him, but it was rather that he simply did not care. She carried the beat of those memories in her head, and withdrawing from her home in the wood, she made her way to more open ground.
She tossed her head, her hair grey and ratty with age, but she took off with all the youth that immortality provided her. Darwin would have something to say if she could be seen by him now. Excommunicated sod thought she, for though she was a magician, she was not a product of evolutionary adaptation, and still clung to the old ways. She said a prayer, jumped before kissing the sky, lifting her body up into the air and propelling herself forward through the clouds. Flying was never something that Reggie had ever been very good at, but the need to have the sun and the wind in her face was something she craved. She was hungry and at the moment, she craved life, and light—
—and food!
Blimey was the only thought that crossed her mind before her tinted green eyes peered down to view the vegetation beneath her. Her ever-rounding belly grumbled and moved just so slightly, reminding her that she had more in her life than just to consume for herself, and she cursed the Name of God before changing the trajectory of her flight, instead stretching out her legs to brace herself for impact straight downward. Curling her neck over, she drew her back legs in to protect her middle, only just briefly extending them again before landing on all fours with a large thud that could possibly be heard for miles.
She flicked her tail and tossed her head again to get the hair out of her eyes, before lowering her head to consume the greens—as if nothing at all were amiss.
His pale leopard hide breached the barrier from forest to meadow, birthing a new light on his plum-colored spots. The pattern faded into dark points, a smooth sooty black. Chilled blue eyes scanned the horizon, brows creased in worry. With each day that passed without finding Morigan, his sister that raised him as a child, his heart grew heavier and concern for her safety ignited within him the urge that brought him to this place today. He had to find her. It was killing him. Was something wrong? Had something happened to her?
A shadow crossed the sky, too large to be a bird. He looked up to find a mare, pregnant with child, soaring gracefully through the air without wings. They were either invisible or a powerful magic held her aloft so easily, he surmised passively. He cringed inwardly as she landed with a thud, thinking of the child within.
He had been present for a birth in this last season, royal triplets no less. Ruan was awed by the power of motherhood, creating life without the need for magic. It was nature's own sort of magic, and it was beautiful, miraculous. He couldn't imagine what it took for them to manage such a feat.
He watched her settle herself to graze, his stance relaxed and calm. There was an elegant beauty to her, something almost royal, as if even the sun had to ask permission to touch her. He was the type to notice such things about strangers, to appreciate the artistry they lent to the world around them. Her features were delicate, yet strong; a harmonious blend.
His feet carried him quietly forward, approaching from her left quarter. He kept his eyes trained on her, ready to meet her gaze with his own when she heard his advance.
"I'm Ruan," he said simply as he continued forward, his voice a low gentle rumble.
She was radiant. He thought he might tell her so, but hesitated. It was probably best to see if she minded his presence first. With a last light step he halted a few feet away, probably too close. Steely eyes studied her warily, searching for signs of attack so that he might retreat in time. You never really knew with mares. His sister had always told him as a child he was too friendly, too trusting.
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
This pregnant mama was busy eating. Reagan paced herself, head to the ground, sampling what little of the grass was left during the course of the winter, but even as most of the rest of the land found their waistbands slimming down from lack of food, Reggie found that she only became more round as the season progressed, feeling the churning of life within her. This was a baby that she would raise, or she wouldn’t—it was entirely up to the baby. Babies born from the clutches of old magic have a great habit of being able to fend for themselves at a very early age, utilizing their unique abilities almost from infancy, controlling their environment and being able to be independent as if they’d never needed parents at all.
Such was the case with the one that Reagan carried. Born of deep magic, this baby would be special, and as it moved around inside her, Reagan knew that this particular child would be very special in the eyes of those who would continue to look after her and be within her company as she grew older. Reagan felt at this moment that she would not mind being one of them.
Flicking her tail, she slapped her back and swayed back and forth as she continued to pace, head down, almost as if she was dancing in time to the rhythm of her baby’s kicks. It was almost as if she was surrounding herself with music, the way she absent-mindedly danced while she ate. Carefree, almost youthful.
When she was anything but, in both categories.
Of course she knew that Ruan was coming. She would have been a blind fool not to have felt his presence from 100 paces away, let alone close enough to hear him approach and speak to her as if she were a priceless artefact in some museum someplace. What had given the impression that she was to be treated thusly? Was there something on her face? Or between her teeth? Her old body was certainly not something to revel at. She was wracked with the scars of her past, her darkening points and green-tinged hair belying her age… and her rather odd chosen affinity for moss and bad personal hygiene.
She heard him speak, and she said nothing. She continued to eat, filling that ever growing pregnant stomach of hers, dancing slightly in circles around him head to ground. After a little while, she stopped, snuffled through the snow. With a hoof she pawed at the ground, and dug up the odiferous root vegetable known as the wild potato. She pinned her ears back and hissed, reached down with her teeth and barely picked it up, flinging it away from her with all the strength she could muster—which, considering she is a pregnant hormonal female with magic in her veins, was probably halfway to the other side of the world—before righting herself, huffing, and choosing that rather unceremonious moment to address that she was not alone, had not been alone for some time, and had actually been talked to by a male who had absolutely no idea who she was.
So sweet.
“Odious things, potatoes. How they are allowed to grow wild when they belong in the caverns of Hell is one paradox I shall never completely understand. How is your day going, Ruan?”
She waits. But he better make it quick. She’s still hungry, and she’s eating for two.
Ruan observed her silently as she lightly swayed, ignoring him. He wasn't offended by this but merely settled in to the quiet, bowing his head to graze alongside her in companionable silence. His eyes never left her though, more interested in decoding this enigmatic mare than eating. A light breeze teased his forelock, and a shiver swept through him.
He was intrigued, curious, and took these moments to observe her more closely. Scars marked various chapters of her life, showing brightly like well-earned and polished badges. Her sullen gray hair ended in noble discoloration. He had to slowly shift to keep her in sight, as she slowly circled him while she fed. The ethereal entity commanded his full attention without a word, without a glance.
She hissed suddenly. He straightened, his ears coming forward, alert. He craned his neck to see what had offended her so. It appeared to be some sort of vegetable. Then she took it gingerly between her teeth and threw it. So far it flew, he lost sight of it before it was even near to falling. Blue eyes gravitated to her once again.
And then she chose to acknowledge him as she cursed the vile thing, and asked how his day was going. She stood a little impatiently, probably preferring to nurse her unborn child in the only way she could til it would birth. Ruan held her gaze, and slowly dipped his head once again to the grasses in a silent invitation to continue, as he snagged a bite for himself. He looked away and took a leisurely step, ripping more from their roots. It wasn't until he finished the last morsel that he responded.
"It's getting better," he said indifferently. Wintery blue eyes came to rest on her again, still so calmly, patiently curious. He remained reserved, allowing her to take control of the situation as she pleased, taking careful note of her mannerisms and the choices she made.
ooc: um, i feel like this was blah. i am sleepy =/ <3
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
She looked at him curiously. He knew she was blessed—his very presence in how he regarded her told her so. She looked at him as he bade her keep eating, and she blinked at him, put a hoof to the ground with great purpose, and returned to her grazing. Flicking her ears, she blinked, and a slight breeze blew past them, ridding the area around them of the snow and allowing fresh green shoots of spring to sprout quickly, the dawning of the buds of wildflowers providing a stark contrast of color against the blank white canvas of the snow at the perimeters. She said nothing, but walked slowly, slowing her pacing—her dancing—and making the rounds, sampling the sweet fragrances of spring, until she had finally had her fill. She walked over to the edge where the snow was piled up against the grass, and she took some into her mouth, rolling the snow between her teeth, pushing the moisture of the frozen water down to quench her silent need of thirst.
Reagan’s need was dire, and she remembered her days in the old land when the world was forever stacking its prayers against the dead bodies of the plague. The faithful withered away, while the heathens drank and made merry, going about their business. Her heart seized, watching the bodies of her friends burn in the pyre. While she continued to munch on the snow contentedly—or so it would appear—Reggie’s mind was racing. Life is not worth wasting for even one short moment. Because even prayers cannot help the dead. If you see what you want, get it. Take what you can, leave nothing back.
And she didn’t.
Her abilities had always helped her, and helped anyone she cared for—but in this strange male’s case, his easy nature and apparent lack of regard allowed her to relax around him, and she did not feel the need to be stingy with her gifts. She bade him to continue eating with her, until that moment she had declared herself well and truly full, she righted herself, and spoke again.
“How has your day gotten better?”
She tilted her head at him, seeing his blood and wondering just how cold the ice ran in his veins, her warm breath crystalizing in the air as she exhaled. “My name is Reagan, by the way.”
Ruan was enjoying himself. Even as the breath of winter chilled him, he could think only of the mare before him. Like an enchantment, her presence bade him listen, watch. Learn. Gently falling snow perched on the tip of his thickened winter coat, gradually dusting over his purpled print. His glacier blue eyes always seemed to gravitate back to her as if of their own free will. She was bold and open, a take-me-as-I-am sort of attitude, he thought, and yet so mysterious. What secrets did she clutch so tight?
Some time throughout their brief time together, he'd realized he wanted her to trust him. It was possible this was simply due to his friendly nature, and hoped everyone would feel comfortable in his presence. However.. he felt surprisingly serene in her presence, and wished to return that level of calm and comfort if he could.
His head lifted from their grazing as a swift breeze swept the snow away from the feast with unnatural purpose. Ruan's ears tilted forward and he watched intently, then stole a glance at her. It wasn't unheard of for one to have magic, he had a little of his own, but he did feel it was a good bit uncommon. He hadn't crossed many in his time with a magic, though he and Morigan had greatly kept to themselves. Worry for his sister again creased his brows and he fought the urge to look around. He'd already done that when he came to this place; she wasn't here.
He dipped his head back down without comment and resumed grazing, more for a distraction than from hunger. Ruan forced himself not to watch her, allowing her to make her leisure circles without shifting to follow her movements. Nor did he glance at the intriguing mare when her rounding brought her behind him out of sight, trusting her. He instead listened, as she moved to the edge of the freshly cleared area, to the miniature wall of snow she'd pushed aside and lipped a sample. Maybe she was thirsty after eating? Perhaps he could pair her brief display of magic with his own.
How has your day gotten better? she asked him.
He smiled slowly, but didn't answer; a secret sort of smile. A fleeting glint of amusement lit his eyes before he masked it. She was clever; she'd come to her own conclusions.
Ruan was enjoying their leisurely pace of conversation. Small talk was traded for the companionship of a stranger, a silent permission between them to just simply be. Whoever they were, however they came, they both seemed to just accept the other's presence with unquestioned equality. Maybe in another setting, they were at very different social levels, if that mattered to her. But here, she'd allowed him passage into her world, at her side. Or so it was the way he chose to perceive it.
She graced him with her name then. Reagan. It felt.. graceful but strong, maybe a little wild. Like the most beautiful filly around was off being a tomboy or playing in nature's playground on her own, independent of others. He wondered if that's how she'd been as a young girl, or if that's how her child would turn out, his eyes tracing her swollen sides briefly.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Reagan," he said, his smile stretching a little further.
Ruan was curious about her, but answers and stories would come in their own time as she saw fit to impart on him or not. He was in no rush as friendship was a deep bond for him, and wasn't to be forced or hurried.
So no questions came from him, as he silently packed the snow's top ledge with his magic, shaping a shallow bowl and breaking apart the water molecules of flakes to make water. His magic came easier for him in the winter, surrounded by the resources that would aid him in it. And so this little bit had taken hardly a thought at all, swift and simple. A small thing.
Ruan crossed to it for his own drink, passing close to her side but careful not to bump her or her growing baby. He lipped playfully at her hip as he left her personal space, a swift light touch. His magic continued to break apart the falling snow, keeping the make-shift bowl filled. He wasn't really thirsty but sipped some to be sure it tasted clean and crisp in case she wished to drink.
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
There was a pause. She watched him, and felt the nip of his cold lips on her body, and she rightly shuddered. She backed away from him just ever so slightly, but silently, it would have been visible to any that the hair on her back stood straight on end, suddenly aware of everything about him. He was so not right. She was the God Mother—the mother of Kings, and the politician. She was responsible for 4 generations of Kings and Queens in the Forbidden Dale, and was the lover of the infamous Plug, who had more children than sense. But that had never mattered to her; she had had his heart. But always at the center of their exchange was for the good of the Kingdom. The Lord and Lady—the mother and father of the next king, and then the Queen that followed. The madness in their line was tinged with the gifted graces of the deep magic.
Magicians who could bend the world to their whim with the barest glimpse, a mere blink.
Despite the revealed the grasses, the temperature in the area had not gone up, and Reggie found that the breath she released into the air plumed away from her like tiny ice feathers that were going up towards Heaven. It was not a surprise to her when Ruan had joined her at the perimeter of their tiny oasis. With the ease of breathing, he created a crystalline goblet out of snow and ice, filled with the clearest water that his blood could muster. That he invited her to partake however, that did illicit a response out of her. He was so giving, and for a minute she found herself delving into his mind, wondering what sense of artifice there would be to be found there… What does he want with her?
There was not another creature in her entire acquaintance that has ever treated her thus. With such attentiveness, and yet, willing to give her the space he felt she needed. She shook her head and the wind picked up blowing her hair away from her face. The ease she felt, she quieted her mind for just a moment and retreated from his thoughts long enough to have her own consciousness prick up for the moment. He had been looking for someone—a female? Lover?
Sister.
Family was important. Family was what had been Reggie’s bargaining chip for power way back when. She had counted her prayers and had found the grace of the right ones—always the right ones—and yet now she realized that even despite having the perfect family drenched in power, there had been no love lost between them. Even now, she could feel the presence of a great grand daughter and a great great grandson, and yet she could not be less bothered at their existence. The fact that her companion longed to find his sister out of nothing more than the pure love he bore for her was new, almost foreign.
Love.
Had Reagan ever felt truly loved before? Her mind wracked with her past, and as her belly kicked with life, she knew that she did not truly love this child, but that as a daughter of Carnage, she would hold power. Power was important. Power was what mattered. Right?
Her own mind clouded, she found her pelt ruffled as the snow came down upon them both. She shook her entire body, and as the blanket fell in clumps around her, she enabled her age to do so as well. The moss, the lichen, and the scars came off of her in dust molecules, falling to the ground and dissipating as if they never were. Black, sleek mane and tail and a beautiful pewter grey pelt with darker ombre points revealed themselves. She was still obviously pregnant, but she for the moment shed the cloak of age and power and revealed herself as she actually was—
One who was eternal, never changing, screaming with power—and yet so afraid to truly use it.
This Ruan was making her question everything she had ever known. And yet, as silent as he stood, regarding her as to who she was and not WHAT she was, she found she could not help but reveal a silent peace of her hidden self, even as she knew it would hurt him—which she found was the last thing she wanted to do. She looked away into the distance, and leaned against him, parts of her warming inside that she forgot even existed within her. “She is not coming back, you know.”
Ruan sensed more than saw her step away after his unbidden touch. Was she uncomfortable with all contact or uncomfortable with his, he wondered silently. His eyes met hers and he thought he saw confusion there. Had he done something wrong? Perhaps he should not have touched her so intimately.
Oblivious to her invasive magic, he studied her. She seemed lost in thought, considering something perhaps. His eyes dragged away from her face grudgingly to see her kicking belly. The child was already so strong, and he smiled wondering what it felt like and if it bothered her at all to be punched from the inside by teeny hooves.
She seemed pretty strong as well. And powerful. He found her eyes once again. What kind of magic did she wield that gave her control to fly through the air, and sweep away snow with a gust? Was she gifted with wind? That possibility amused him, imagining the creation of a massive blizzard with his own magic mixed in to blow away and freeze their enemies should they have any.. Did she have any? A friendship with him meant hers became his, loyal to a fault for the ones he chose to care for.
His mind was brought around to her again at her slightest movement, like a tug at the leash. She shook out her coat but more than snow fell from her, scars and discoloration -age, even- disintegrated in glittering dust. His wide eyes took her in slowly from top to bottom and back again, every plane, every curve. Surprise and shock at this new revelation etched across his face.
She was stunning. Radiant.
Soft grey, plush as a newborn's teddy, swaddled her figure. He fought the desire to stuff his nose against her and breathe in her coat, test the softness for himself. Dark points snuggled her legs like luxurious black silk. Was that a hint of lust in his eye? Admiration? He who never based attachment on appearances? Whatever it was, it was immediately replaced with a thick fog of confusion, clawing through whatever primal emotion he'd just felt.
What kind of magic allowed her to change appearance at whim. His ear twitched uncertainly. Perhaps she had multiple magics; wind and..this other one. Or..was it possible she had the greatest magic? The true unfiltered, mutation-free power over all things?
Did it really matter to him?
Was this even her true appearance or another facade she chose to wear? Was he being manipulated? Wearing which mask she thought would entice a different manner of him? A small tug of hurt pinched at his heart. Well it worked. His reaction was proof of that. Gone was the venerable and powerful deity; replaced now with a pristine goddess. No matter her appearance, she still unwittingly commanded reverence and awe.
But there was a truth in her soulful eyes. And he ..chose to accept this as the real Reagan, not a cruel manipulation. Otherworldly and glorious and utterly authentic.
He quickly swallowed his barbaric reactions. His eyes softened and another little smile tipped his lips in greeting, a silent "hello" to her true self. Ruan took control over his emotions once again, solid and tranquil; at ease with her. All of her, whoever that was. Only an underlying uncertainty tainted his thoughts like a wisp of poisonous smoke.
She was at his side, and despite her faint retreat from his touch to her hip earlier, she leaned her body against him, looking off into the distance. Another wave of calm flowed through him, and he didn't fight the urge this time as he curled his neck to brush at her cheek-
but stopped short at her spoken words. His body stiffened and he quickly retracted his almost-touch.
She is not coming back, you know.
The words echoed in his mind like a haunting melody. She is not coming back, you know..
What..?
Ruan pulled back from her, stepping away so that he could see her face clearly. His spotted side was instantly chilled where her warmth had been. Dark brows knitted together in confusion and disbelief, hurt.
Did she mean Morigan? How did she know? Her magic had to run deep and ancient to know such things. What else did she know of him? He felt naked and vulnerable, stripped of any sort of securities. She was a magician, a true magician. But more importantly, what the hell was wrong with Morigan?
"What do you mean? Is it Morigan; is she in trouble? Do you know how to find her?" It was the most he'd said to her thus far, and it wasn't even true conversation. His voice was edgy, strained with emotion. He'd do anything to bring Morigan to safety. He'd die for her without hesitation. Whatever it took, he'd return her home to him.
It was the least he could do for the young sister that chose to raise him. They'd shared a deep impenetrable bond through the years, after she pulled him from his mother's home seeing she was unfit to care for him any longer. He'd been thin and half-starved, but knew only love for his mother no matter the state of her mind. Just as he knew only love for his dear sister, the only family he had left. He wondered if she'd had children yet; he wanted to see them, play with them, care for them.
His tortured eyes searched Reagan's for answers he was afraid to hear, but desperately needed to. Their budding friendship aside, Morigan's truth had to be known.
OOC: ok, um. massive. also...couple slight freakouts of differing kinds =x
that first one was not in my posting notes but he forced me to write it when i was making his reply o.o
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
The way she’d felt his breath around the back of her neck as he prepared to give her an undue attention of affection—whether or not she actually would have allowed it, she was not given the thought to process, for it never occurred. He spoke then, almost frantic, the ice blocking his throat as he backed up, his purple polka-dotted pelt pulsing through his emotions. She blinked and stepped back. She considered him for a moment; remembering that she was a full lifetime older than him—perhaps by now, more than a few lifetimes—and allowed herself to display the full force of her power.
The white lighting of the deep magic swirled in her eyes as they lit her soul from within. Her mouse-grey pelt once again displayed the scars that showed her age, but this time they glowed, pulsating the blood that beat within her, scorching her body with all the force that was required to reach into his past. As she crawled around inside his head, she made no inch of secrecy to let him know she was in his mind. As she moved, his own spots glowed, and his eyes began to mirror hers as she showed him the images from the past—ones he was not privy to, but should see.
Memories that were not theirs crept up from the depths of the beach, those shallow salty waves lapping lazily upon the shore, the souls of the dead clawing outward towards the dull sun, clamoring for a taste of life. Images flashed before their eyes as they crawled into Ruan’s soul, using Reagan’s power as the projector for what the dearest depths of pain and suffering could muster.
She gasped as she showed him images of their mother flinging herself off a cliff to escape her insanity. Knees buckling, the madness that drew Torne away from real life—and her children—wracked Reggie to her core, and in her mind the whispers of her prayers overtook hers and Ruan’s soul; the sound of Gaelic verse becoming the backdrop for earthquakes, for war, and of raids, and of the separation of two siblings—Morigan and Ruan—who loved each other dearly. Age and maturation had a way of doing that. While Morigan found family, Ruan became restless on his own, struggling to become at peace with himself, until it had become too late.
And then she shook, her voice taking on an ethereal, incorporeal echo as she spoke to him. She spoke outloud, but within her consciousness, she knew he could hear her within his head as well. “The bones of the dead have been scattered like dust. The children of the one that ye seek may not yet be beyond your reach. Where there is love, there is sadness. Where there is fire, there is also ice.”
[OOC: Okay so esseentially they are still in "magic connection" mode. I left it that way on purpose to see what his reaction would be to it, and to see if you wanted to further it by either continuing, or disengaging. Either is okay with me]
08-30-2016, 11:36 PM (This post was last modified: 08-30-2016, 11:41 PM by Ruan.)
Ruan
Ruan waited for her response with bated breath. Then something entirely mystical happened.
Her eyes swirled with the light of magic, and her scars reappeared, glowing. He was mesmerized, utterly transfixed.
He felt a brush against his consciousness. Then she was there, laying bare the memories of his past. Light filled his periphery, until even her graceful form washed away in the surreal visions. He wasn't sure what she intended with him, but he chose to trust her. His body was held rigid by the powerful magic flowing between them, and his own icey blood laced through him in eager response.
Images slid across his vision, places he'd been to, faces he'd met, as if her power was sifting through his stories to choose which it would read to them.
A tragedy, it chose.
He saw his mother, as he'd last seen her, weary and broken. His heart warmed at seeing her again, but then shattered as her magic wrote the ending to an unfinished piece. He choked as he saw her at possibly the stongest moment of her life, where she finally took control of her fate and ended it. Even he, her little colt, couldn't make her happy. Without his knowledge, his magic threw up a thick barrier of ice around them like a child diving beneath the blankets for safety. His chest tightened in grief and his body shuddered, but there was more.
Morigan's face appeared. She was as lovely as he remembered. The pain of the previous vision subdued under her beauty. Things he couldn't possibly have known played across in silent color. Morigan, with children; such beautiful children. A silent tear traced his jaw. He missed her. He had to find her. He needed his family back. Nieces and nephews he didn't even know about, he'd missed. Did they know of him? Were they still around the lands? Would anyone remember him..
He became aware of a faraway chanting, praying. The mare's voice, Reagan. He could discern nothing but the sound of her voice, so distant he almost hadn't heard it, though it felt familiar as if he'd been hearing it this whole time. He wasn't really sure what to think of her, or how to feel. What were her intentions? What sort of things were in her heart? However, a tendril of calm snaked through him when he heard her voice, the gentleness lulling his nerves, despite his uncertainties.
Then Reagan's voice came clear, from within his mind and outside him. Death and children, she speaks of. Love and sadness. Fire and ice.
Ruan felt confused, and so empty. His eyes pinched shut in his emotional torment. He needed more.
Please..
He tried to tell her but he found he couldn't speak. Pain and grief welled in his throat. Another shudder racked through his body, as if swallowing the sobs he wouldn't express. He could do nothing but wait helplessly for her magic to show them more or release him.
