(no subject)

[sunnydalealum]

It's a bigger room, this time. The better to fit two dozen zhirelin in addition to the sorcerers themselves.

The conference room setup this time is much hastier, at Emma's orders. The table's been upended against the wall instead of removed entirely; the blood in the spell diagram is still tacky. Everything's in place, including the two most vital components: the real Kshaartian mandrake, and the Scythe.

Emma's trying hard not to pace as the two red-robed apprentices bend to light the first candles, as the priests in their darker robes begin chanting.

We're in the homestretch. Go. Go. Go.

Comments

[sunnydalealum]

The low droning chant of the spell is punctuated by the click of the door knob turning. Emma's shoulders stiffen, and she turns on her heel to stalk toward the opening door.

In a fierce low tone, she hisses "Connie, I said no inter--"

[sunnydalealum]

Emma shuts the door firmly, and turns to face them.

"All right," she says, her voice dreadfully quiet, her eyes narrowed in restrained wrath. "Let's talk."

[sunnydalealum]

Once outside the room, the blonde turns to the others. "All right, we're going to need a few of us to stand guard here."

A flat, closed look at Mel. "Figure you might want to do the same," she adds, and there's a question buried in it.