[ The prototype doesn't work quite as well as he'd like, which is to say that it fails at the first test. It's a repurposed iron helmet, hammered into a sphere and welded shut by Sypha. Inside, he's placed a pebble and a sealed note for Sypha to test how well the iron fares in obstructing magic. The sealed note is- mostly safe. Sypha can't tell the actual word written upon it. But she can tell describe it in other ways, guessing accurately how many times he folded it and that he did so while the ink was still wet, leaving smudges.
The pebble is the greater failure of the iron, as she can move it about in there with only some stain. It clangs against the sides of the makeshift container.
It's going to need some work.
It is, however, still whole the next day, even as the helmet that they took to make the thing seems to have returned to the armory. Other things, like the bedding from the servant's quarters and Mathias' notebooks, have not been replaced. Materially changing the item seems to be what results in it counting as being 'consumed'.
They can use materials from here and he can safely ascend the stairs now, and that means that a more thorough search is in order to see what they have to work with. None of the rooms upstairs are protected as drastically as Mathias' lab, and Trevor goes first, opening doors with a shallow cut on one thumb.
The rooms that the current door opens to are perhaps the brightest of all of them. The first is a living space, clean but with the air of being well-used. Vases are filled with cut flowers, cushions are worn just enough to have become familiar and comfortable, but not enough to need repair. Wear at the spines of a few of the books in the bookcase indicates that they've been pulled out and replaced many times. A sketchbook lies open on a table, filled with pictures of that yippy dog and of the view from the windows of this room and of two people, one pale-haired and noble and the other darker-haired and impossibly, impossibly kind and warm for who Trevor knows this must be.
There is a second doorway at the opposite side of the room, blocked off by a long curtain. And there is a large cushion on the floor, which the dog immediately runs past them all to flop down on. ]
no subject
The pebble is the greater failure of the iron, as she can move it about in there with only some stain. It clangs against the sides of the makeshift container.
It's going to need some work.
It is, however, still whole the next day, even as the helmet that they took to make the thing seems to have returned to the armory. Other things, like the bedding from the servant's quarters and Mathias' notebooks, have not been replaced. Materially changing the item seems to be what results in it counting as being 'consumed'.
They can use materials from here and he can safely ascend the stairs now, and that means that a more thorough search is in order to see what they have to work with. None of the rooms upstairs are protected as drastically as Mathias' lab, and Trevor goes first, opening doors with a shallow cut on one thumb.
The rooms that the current door opens to are perhaps the brightest of all of them. The first is a living space, clean but with the air of being well-used. Vases are filled with cut flowers, cushions are worn just enough to have become familiar and comfortable, but not enough to need repair. Wear at the spines of a few of the books in the bookcase indicates that they've been pulled out and replaced many times. A sketchbook lies open on a table, filled with pictures of that yippy dog and of the view from the windows of this room and of two people, one pale-haired and noble and the other darker-haired and impossibly, impossibly kind and warm for who Trevor knows this must be.
There is a second doorway at the opposite side of the room, blocked off by a long curtain. And there is a large cushion on the floor, which the dog immediately runs past them all to flop down on. ]
Sara's, I imagine.