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Posted: Thu Jun 29, 2017 7:15 pm
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"I can't believe you two." He made a harsh huffing sound, but didn't seem to be acting out in favor of their task at hand. Eli had the stone shoved in there, the papers. Ollie lobbed the stopwatch in, not wanting to look at the ticking seconds; and he didn't have to, because his mind was counting down anyway, and his vision was darkening at the edges and his chest hurt terribly to breathe.
He stared at the guitar. The box had been more than enough to accommodate the arm, but...
There was an unfortunate twang sound as he cracked the instrument over his knee, his ears floofy and raccoon-like, his nails claws and the robe bulging in the back with the presence of—presumably—his tail. It was messy, but he crammed it into the box.
"Save it for afterwards. You both owe me— now come on, like we practiced."
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Posted: Thu Jun 29, 2017 7:33 pm
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"You know I'm good for it, Ollie." It was cheeky, but the way it lightened the mood was nice. At least until Horace decided to be too metal for his own good, absolutely destroying his hands on an unfinished corner of the box. Sympathy pains shot up Elliot's arm and he grimaced.
"You're asking a lot, you know," he said, scrunching his nose. "But I guess it couldn't hurt. Ah, maybe I should rephrase that... It might help." Following suit, but doing it much more gracefully, Eli left a thin slice in his hand and made sure not to drip his blood anywhere but the box. His palm pulsed angrily.
"I hope it helps, anyway." He sure as hell didn't want to slice his hand open for nothing.
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Posted: Thu Jun 29, 2017 7:52 pm
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Oliver only shook his head, "Of course I like you," He snapped right back, though it wasn't very venomous, "You're both dumb..."
He looked at his shaky, shaky hands. Taking in a deep breath, he dragged one of his claws along the meat of his hand—it wasn't as deep at the last time, but he still winced—and he let the red ichor drip onto the box, right onto the sigil that had inscribed before. Afterwards he rubbed both his hands together, the majority of his palms coated with the potent conductor.
Ollie grabbed for their hands then—one in Horace's, one in Elliot's—"Start casting. I'll focus."
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Posted: Thu Jun 29, 2017 8:34 pm
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The box began its work, shattering apart the guitar, the corrupted Charter, the stone, the song. They couldn't see it, but they could feel it, like resting their hands on the side of a blender as it churned. It began to smooth out, to slow, and then there was only the empty hum of the box.
Something crunched, somewhere above their heads.
Quote: Yall can rejoin the group after the 11pm GM post! Until then, nice job!
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