Scene #806: Blood Class

Owner	Pose
Ainsley	An old North American high security prison sits in the middle of a magic-enhanced jungle. The wildlife is hostile enough that getting to the place cannot be done without beating up at least one glowing tiger beast or something else that is harder to recognize. Once at the prison, though, there's none of the noise and activity of the jungle. Instead just a barren prison yard, with a dusty ground and a cage set up in the center of it. The cage looks more new. A skeleton in 'modern' construction equipment, worn down by time and who knows what else rests at the floor of the cage. Ainsley is here, seated on a lawn chair. She stares out into the jungle, eyes focused on nothing in particular. Nearby a table is upended, where some stuff once rested, but now there's only smashed jars and torn up books and papers. A music player hums a gentle song to break the eerie calm of the ancient prison yard.
Inga Freyjasdottir	Needless to say, Inga has never seen a jungle before. She has seen a tiger's skin, but never a living beast. Nevermind one that glows! She'd almost been sad to kill it, but when something is trying to eat your face, well, you just have to kill it. Only slightly mauled, Inga steps into view, leaning on her staff as she walks forward, eyes roaming. The jungle had been interesting, but the rest is fairly bleak. Of course, she's used to worse by now. Doesn't mean it goes unoticed however. With a quiet sigh, Inga smoothes her dress and continues toward Ainsley, her lips dipping into a frown. "Ainsley?" she asks, taking in the upended table, broken jars and torn papers. Inga knows the sign of a frustration-driven rage when she sees one.
Ainsley	"Quetzal magic as they tell people is a huge sham," Ainsley tells Inga, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the table. She doesn't even want to look at it. She grumpily crosses her arms and looks over to Inga. "Can... can you help me understand how to heal and ward more easily? I need to better understand the mechanics of my own magic, and you seem to be the closest parallel there is." The lizard girl stands up from her seat... then approaches Inga to give her a hug. "I'm sorry for my attitude toward you before, in that tomb."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga blinks, looks at the table again...eyebrow raise? "Of course, if I can help I will..." she replies. Inga isn't at all sure Ainsley needs /her/ help. She seems both knowledgable and powerful. Then, a hug is had. Inga returns the embrace, smiling softly. "Mmm, it's alright. I...er, I realize my methods and...the way I am accustomed to doing things may be offensive to some. You have my apologies as well. I did wonder if you were angry with me," she responds.
Ainsley	The hug soon released, Ainsley steps back with her hands on Inga's shoulders. "I was angry 'cause it was something I would've done," she admits, a little sheepishly, "If not for the things I read and knew just before." The lizard girl releases the blood mage before her, and smiles brightly. "Blood magic is based on sacrifice, right?" she asks of her bee-chosen friend. "Can you demonstrate a basic warding circle for me...? I'd like a basic framework, in case my spellwork is malleable enough to mimic yours." She gestures to a clear area of concrete in the prison yard. Meanwhile, the lizard girl swaps mana alignments from storm to life, which makes her glow red for a second. She lets out a sigh. The air around Ainsley ripples as if the magic in the air reacted to her, a black mist settling and fading at her feet.
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga raises a brow. Angry because it was something she'd have done? Hmm. She supposes looking back, seeing oneself as foolish...Ah, well. Inga brushes it off. Sometimes people have bad days and get snappy. It happens. "Mmm, that is mostly true. Blood is powerful, without it we cannot live. When we use blood, we use the power of life. Using your own blood verses someone elses...can have differing effects if not done correctly. I have used animal blood plenty, but the animal must be sacrificed to the gods of course," she explains. "As for a warding circle...I must say that the idea of a magic circle is actually quite new to me. I've seen it in practice now, and it does make sense to me...but I never used those in the past. I do see the benefit of marking out a space though," she admits, thoughtful. "Generally, we wards are applied to a person directly or to a talisman that can be worn or carried. This projects more of a ...sphere than a circle and has the added benefit of letting the person move around. Ah, but I have seen how a circle can be used as well. I suppose if I were to create one, I could use blood," she says, pursing her lips pensively for a moment before drawing her knife. She cuts into her arm as if it doesn't even hurt her anymore--it does, but she's good at hiding it. Crimson wells then floats up, pooling in the air as if gravity no longer affects it. Inga draws the knife in a circle around them, the blood following, drawing a hovering line than begins to glow as she changes it with anima. "I did this to attempt to disperse an old circle, but I suppose it would work for protection as well. Of course," she begins, looking amused. "I've seen as much done with chalk or dirt and it works well enough. The key is the anima you chanel into it. I simply find my blood a stronger ah...conduit."
Ainsley	The key is the anima. The... magic. The stuff used to power the spell. Ainsley considers that point of it, and nods slowly. Yes, that is quite true, and a basic principle of magic. She had not considered that the /type/ of magic might only change the nature of the warding and not that it wards things. She is suddenly thinking of, perhaps, warding against lightning and wind completely... perhaps giving her a stronger flight in the process. She steps over to the circle, and paces around it, using it as a focal point for her thoughts. "Then... something like this should work..." she pulls a knife from her own belt, and draws a line from her palm to get some blood for her other hand. Then, very carefully, she tries to copy some ancient runes and a face pattern, drawing it across her face and on the tops of her hands. The wound is healed soon after-- it appears she is more resistant to pain and damage in this state, which is appropriate if she needs blood as a focus. She tries to channel magic through the blood, intending to use it... but it burns away with a black smoke and one of the wards POPS on her hand, making her squawk and shake her hand, her eyes watering. "... that... that will require practice. I could feel it working, but I will need to study the right symbols and mental exercises." She frowns at the burn on her hand, a little saddened by her failure, despite how quickly she's picking up on it.
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga watches, seemingly with approval. She looks as though she is about to comments, but leaves Ainsley to do it on her own. The witch can feel the magical energy being channeled through the blood, but something goes wrong. Inga frowns slightly, reaching out to take the burned hand. The burn is not so bad, but Inga pulls just a bit from the floating circle to heal the burn. A small thing, it should feel perfectly fine now. "Your magic does not work exactly as mine does I am sure. I cannot for sure tell you what went wrong. Before the Bees, if I had the time to prepare, I would often mix the blood with certain herbs to enhance the effect of my spell. Perhaps I could show you this. I will also chant the ancient words--often the names of the runes themselves. It invokes a trancelike state you see, makes the channel through which power flows clearer," she continues. "Some of what you see me do now...it is the abilities of being Chosen. I certainly never did anything like this before," she says, gesturing to the ...well, the floating circle of blood. "I'd have passed out and likely killed myself," she laughs.
Ainsley	"But I am not a creature of faith," Ainsley tells Inga, frowning a bit. She considers the idea of just what kind of gods would even bother listening to her. Her eyes close, one hand rubbing at the feathers atop her head. "Being Chosen, maybe it is somewhat like what happened to me," she says to Inga, thoughtfully, "I will need to do some soul searching, so to speak. Perhaps there /are/ deities that I am just not bringing into the equation properly." "... hmm." The lizard girl draws more blood, but not too much. She kneels and draws a symbol, but it's an ancient Mayan symbol, meant to represent the Serpent gods. She lets mana flow through it, and it begins to glow faintly. Then she sits there and stares at it intensely. "... well then."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga nods, geturing to the blood circle, essentially uncasting it as she then just sort of disperses it somewhere out of the way. Some jungle pedators are going to be /very/ confused. "Heh, not a creature of faith? That seems a very strange thing to say. We all have faith in something. The gods have taken an active role in my life. I...owe them my worship and I am happy to provide it. I have seen others work their magic without faith...or with faith only in themselves and the power it would bring them. That is the path that leads to ruin. So long as you have faith in something bigger than yourself, but it the gods, an ideal...that becomes your faith and it is as powerful a charm as you can have," she replies. She looks over as Ainsley draws another symbol in blood. A knowing smile appears, her eyes growing a bit distant as she watches the symbol glow. "It is your path to choose Ainsley. I see the possibilities of your wryd stretching outward..." Inga shakes her head then, clearing it. Nearby, she takes a seat. "Soul searching. Yes. Something I have been doing as well. I...begin to think perhaps what has happened, leaving my home...perhaps it will not be so bad."
Ainsley	Ainsley sits there watching the ward for a while. "I wonder... what this even wards against," she murmurs. She gets up and walks over to grab a femur out of the cage, bringing it over to set atop the ward. The bone begins to dissolve with a hiss and a crackling of black and red fire. The lizard girl stares at this process, and holds out her hand, brows raising at how it emits heat like a camp fire. The feeling intrigues her. "You're an oracle of sorts, right? Is there a way for you to do a prediction for me? If you've seen it, what have you seen?" she wonders at Inga. She does expect the woman did have a sort of 'fortune teller' role, as that was the common purpose of such a person in many cultures. Predicting weather, famine, and more.
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga watches as Ainsley grabs a femur bone and places it over the symbol, her eyes widening when it begins to burn. She looks entirely intrigued. "Oh, that is very good," she says softly. "Heh, a ward with a punch. I've been thinking I need to do such things in Kingsmouth, save people a bit of work," she comments. Inga looks to her then, nodding. Inga is not just your average fortune teller. Inga is a true völva. Sometimes she has a glimpse of the wyrd as it is being woven, a glance at the past and then toward the future in splitting possibilities... Inga closes her eyes a moment, taking a deep breath. "I have Seen. Glimpses. Often I must not focus on it--sometimes though, it screams and I am taken by the gods fury to tell my prophecy. I will open myself to it at your request--but I must give you warning. What I see of the future are possibilities. There are many paths that can be taken, choices that can be made. Some things...they are already woven. They will happen, but you have the power to influence your fate, as do those who are close to you--for all our destinies are interwoven," she exlains. There is no sudden seizing now, for it is already unfolding before her. Inga's eyes grow distant, seeing Beyond. "A forked path, two distinct possibilities. A pivotal moment or choice....you will be involved in something large and complex Ainsley. Down one path is your death, of this I am certain. Down the other...happiness. A wide reaching event...your wyrd tied to many others," Inga shakes her head, eyes closing again as she lets out a shudder of a breath. She opens her eyes and looks to Ainsley. "I cannot give you more than this--and I know it is not reassuring. Prophecy rarely is," she says quietly.
Ainsley	Ainsley is visibly confused by the prophecy. It is vague, as prophecies tend to be, and not really something that gives her any reason to relax. Something that, in fact, makes her feel pretty uneasy. "Death, or happiness." She frowns at the idea, but it does create a thought for her. Perhaps something to consider if she uses the Caverns of Prophecy again. She reaches to touch the ward, and it dispels, the blood fading into the ground. "... huh." ... "That was the symbol of a forgotten mesoamerican god." She rubs the spot, getting her fingers dirty. She reaches over to touch at Inga's arm once, and then practices with the symbol again, carefully modifying it for different dieties to see if there's an appreciable difference, and grabbing up her papers to take notes as she does.