Into eir office, for example. Grim was the space in its lack of decorum, but Faustite's boisterous core offset the dolorous violet painted from crystals on the walls. Violet still invaded the corners of the room, camped like a wary youma, always darting this way and that with ever flicker-lick of caged flame. The old corpse of an oak desk sat nearest it, where it still endeavored to support books and papers and notebooks and files and inkwells curiously lacking ink and fountain pens and tea mugs (sometimes two, sometimes three like today) and all manner of private affairs shut up in its drawers. Two backed chairs sat facing that desk in private conference. Behind it, a stool for a general half-made of metal. Behind that, a termite-rotten bookshelf built floor to ceiling with textbook and military manual alike. Machiavelli and Lovecraft and Dostoyevski wore less dust than Clausewitz or Strachan.
Across from that narrow area, in a most generous new allotment of space, was a nearly empty bistro table and chairs. In a half-thought for offering food, Faustite left a bell jar on it, but under it sat mementos from a much more distant life. Half hors d'oeuvres and half petty curio, a couple high school composition books sat crowned with a shoddy scrimming attempt. Next to it, a long-dead cell phone. Last year's iPhone, though Faustite couldn't recall the model anymore.
It was in the dead space between bistro table and desk that Faustite hemmed eir will. And in that closure of nothing, where dust motes floated in and out of awareness, where the soundless vacuum of Negaspace felt most apparent in that room, Faustite wrenched at that old and violent magic. The way it twisted and warped and drained exhilaratingly, how it felt like a shoal of too-cold fish passed over eir palms and stole away breath, it felt at once iniquitous and thrilling. Potent. Dominant. Devious. Like ey unworked the world a little more each time.
All the more costly when two particular persons were plucked from their private spheres to place in this smokestained space. There they would find the general leaned against that dilapidated desk, posture ramrod straight, hands slick with heady magics.
frayedflowers
kainite has been summoned through time and space~ impromptu group name b/c their names wouldn't fit
sylent nyte
vanadinite has been summoned through time and space~
