[He's already long gone by the time she says it, perhaps even past the range of a wolf's hearing. But still, there's no time for sentimentality, not when she has a party to defend, and lives to preserve.
Step one does prove to be ice, after all, but not of the fog itself. Instead, to the north, she raises a high wall of ice, hoping to barricade off the fog from wherever it's coming from, forcing it to run into the frozen expanse and hopefully condense into liquid again before it has a chance to blow past it.
The rest of it is more difficult, and requires her full and deliberate focus. She spreads her hands wide, eyes focused on the fog, then brings them together with flat hands angled vertically. In the air around them, the fog collapses inward, growing denser and denser albeit in a much smaller area as she compacts it together, trying to shape as much of it as she can into a cube.
It's somewhere around here, as the skies begin to clear, that the denizens of the party start returning, chattering in wonder at their salvation overhead. A few are foolish enough to approach her, babbling some nonsense she can't afford to focus on right now; even so, her control slips slightly from the distraction, and some of the mist escapes, leaving her to curse under her breath and refocus to corral it again.
(She kicks that one in the shins. It's a shame she's not wearing her shoes, she thinks; it would've hurt more.)
But soon enough, she's got as much of it together as she can, and slowly she starts to push it to the east, a swirling cloudy mass of a thing in cube form that leaves her gritting her teeth from the concentration of holding it together, trying to get it far enough away that she can release it without risking it scattering and coming back.]
no subject
[He's already long gone by the time she says it, perhaps even past the range of a wolf's hearing. But still, there's no time for sentimentality, not when she has a party to defend, and lives to preserve.
Step one does prove to be ice, after all, but not of the fog itself. Instead, to the north, she raises a high wall of ice, hoping to barricade off the fog from wherever it's coming from, forcing it to run into the frozen expanse and hopefully condense into liquid again before it has a chance to blow past it.
The rest of it is more difficult, and requires her full and deliberate focus. She spreads her hands wide, eyes focused on the fog, then brings them together with flat hands angled vertically. In the air around them, the fog collapses inward, growing denser and denser albeit in a much smaller area as she compacts it together, trying to shape as much of it as she can into a cube.
It's somewhere around here, as the skies begin to clear, that the denizens of the party start returning, chattering in wonder at their salvation overhead. A few are foolish enough to approach her, babbling some nonsense she can't afford to focus on right now; even so, her control slips slightly from the distraction, and some of the mist escapes, leaving her to curse under her breath and refocus to corral it again.
(She kicks that one in the shins. It's a shame she's not wearing her shoes, she thinks; it would've hurt more.)
But soon enough, she's got as much of it together as she can, and slowly she starts to push it to the east, a swirling cloudy mass of a thing in cube form that leaves her gritting her teeth from the concentration of holding it together, trying to get it far enough away that she can release it without risking it scattering and coming back.]