[Those blue eyes burn as bright as the man's hair, it steals his breath in a way he wasn't prepared for -- a way he's not experienced since the first flare of distress more than three decades ago. Essek steals himself against the feeling, against so much -- he's tired of reliving a grief he's convinced himself he's over.
He's not, nor will he ever be.
But it is curious that this hero -- Caleb Widogast wasn't it? -- is interested in such an obscure and dangerous magic. From how he spoke it seemed this Widogast was of arcane practice, perhaps a fellow mage, had learned to pluck motes from the beacon.. Perhaps Essek could use this interest to his advantage, he needed to keep a close eye on these heroes afterall.
Not because he feels a strange draw to this man.]
Ah, you were able to harness a mote of possibility -- a condensed fragment of dunamis, one that allows you to realign reality for but a split moment. A second chance if you will. [He watches Widogast for his interest, wondering how deeply this man looked into the beacon.] Not something you would oft experience outside of the Dynasty.
no subject
He's not, nor will he ever be.
But it is curious that this hero -- Caleb Widogast wasn't it? -- is interested in such an obscure and dangerous magic. From how he spoke it seemed this Widogast was of arcane practice, perhaps a fellow mage, had learned to pluck motes from the beacon.. Perhaps Essek could use this interest to his advantage, he needed to keep a close eye on these heroes afterall.
Not because he feels a strange draw to this man.]
Ah, you were able to harness a mote of possibility -- a condensed fragment of dunamis, one that allows you to realign reality for but a split moment. A second chance if you will. [He watches Widogast for his interest, wondering how deeply this man looked into the beacon.] Not something you would oft experience outside of the Dynasty.