He stood - no, hovered - at the center of a clearing, aglow and unrecognizable. The form of wings and rotating gears, a construct - no, it was something separate from him, not a part of him, even if all the light he bathed in made it hard to tell where he ended and the mechanism sustaining his spell began. It all made him look very -- unreal.
Don’t kill him, please - if there’s even the remotest hope for an alternative, please- please.
The Frozen Lord’s pleas rang in her ears and she shook them off, focusing. Andreo knew she was there, lingering in the shadow of a tree. Was there anything quite out of his sight? He’d know when she moved, even if he might not be quick enough to see where she’d moved. He had little option but to burn away each tree she ducked behind, remove each obstacle that cast shadows in the light of his burning song. He must have known what she was there for.
It hurt her ears. It was beautiful and terrible and she ached to sing with him, but fear snipped her vocal chords as severely as long-laid-to-rest suggestions planted in her mind. Daggers burned in her hands just as lively, the shadow runes at their edges as irate at the proximity of counter-magic as she was on her own.
It was almost a taunt, a tease, altogether fond and cruel as golden leaves and branches caught gold fire and seared them down to consecrated charcoal, wisps and tiny tendrils of burning light that hurt to look at rained down in waves and she had one shot. Just one shot.
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