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Leif's bones weren't popping. They were shifting, textures changing until the skin felt as hard and cool to the touch as the rock. After several hits, the brick shattered away, crumbling and rolling down the dark haired man's sides in that strange, water-like flow. Blood from the nails dried on granite, but shifting neck. Leif was done. His concious mind was now fighting back against the power, pressing it down as he pressed down with sharp motion, intending to pop his eyes right in their sockets. After that last ditch effort, he used that pressing force to turn and propel himself out of the room, running, flying faster than he'd ever run in his life.

((Its not bad! I think its cute.))
Leif rolled and bucked like a beast as he ran, taking off into the hallway through the gap in the wall, and taking advantage of his rock skin to dive and roll down the stairs, making sure to grind Gervain's clinging body into the boards. Good thing he was a squatter, good thing the building was condemned. Fresh panick bolted through him. He didn't want to be seen battling a mage. Especially since he appeared to have just as much power. That panick allowed the power another chance to take hold, turned the skin on his neck a solid rock around the nails that dug into him. Once the rock was formed, he twisted his neck and snapped free, breaking the nails and taking off down the stairs again, diving down flights on all fours like an animal.

Leif's pale green eyes went wide for an instant, his consious mind telling him that he couldn't possibly survive. Then the freshly awakened power seized utter control over him, whispering, purring like it was a separate being. It launched Leif's body at Gervain, clamped his hands in a wind-pipe crushing grip around the necromancer's neck, Then turned Leif's body to stone. He was marble solid around the other's neck in that killing grip, and his lungs were no longer tissue to be torn. To save him the magic stopped all of his functions and froze him around the other. Leif felt himself thinking in slow motion, synapsis sealing him completely inside in spiritual form. He was the earth, the crust, the molten center of firey soul on the inside. All that power and knowledge surged through him, calmly showing him that he needed to kill the other in order to live.

((Stop trying to kill my baby T-T))
The hot molten center inside the rock that was Leif smiled and rolled to the surface, stoney rock face turning to rippling, bubbling magma. The floor around him sizzled into flames. Leif wasn't just one stage of earth, as most lower level geomancers might be, he was all. He was the newborn earth, uncooled core bubbling and sizzling, burning the skin he still gripped like iron. Some tiny part of Leif yelped. He didn't want to kill anyone. But the more overwhelming part knew that it was either kill or be killed. After all, it was nature's way.

Vengance... The power whispered. It wanted that necromancer's blood. The melted magma that had broken away rejoined with the body and reformed into a hand. This birth of power was only the beginning. A trama to raise up the young mage. Old Leif squeeked a protest, he didn't want to be a mage, he didn't want these powers. But it was too late, and he never really had a choice. Natural talent like that never really gave you a choice. He swatted the spirits away in a long sweep of his arm, the target was gone, there was no need for more of these. He wanted to go back to his human form, his comfortable skin, his bright leafy eyes.

And it was then that Gervain drew upon his last reserve: that small bit of Chronomancy that had somehow leaked into his blood. He couldn't go back very far - and luckily he didn't need to. The fight had not lasted all that long. He croaked out a last spell, his body becoming enveloped in a sheild of grey magic. It took several minutes, but he was soon back in... better condition. His skin was unburn, his nails back and human... He had some small scrapes and cuts that had been the initial impact from the bricks - and many bruises. But his condition was much improved. He straighted up, coughing slightly. He was still very weak... but better...

Leif ran down the stairs of his building cooling down as he moved, reforged into his normal self by the time he stepped outside. He followed bloody footsteps, his eyes roaming like a hawk's, his nose lifted to the air like a wolf's. His curiousity always seemed to outrank his fear. Dispite being almost killed, he still wanted to know. What was this? Did all mage's go through this? Was he indeed a mage?

"Hey! Turn around!" Leif growled, darting closer to the necromancer, but not within reach. He flanked him, then slowed to his wounded, crawling walk. "Why'd you do that, huh? I was fine before you came along. Now look at me. I'm a freak!" He snarled. He was so confused, worries and questions running wild through his head like stampeding horses, trampling over each other and making his thoughts frantic and unfinished.