Round 123

Seraphine presses herself against the far wall, her dark elegant hair spilling over her shoulders as she watches Jeane work. The elf's keen gaze flicks to Merrin, then back to Jeane, anxiety evident in every line of her body. Right. Time magic. On shifting ground in a collapsing tower. Jeane mutters the incantation, her voice low and focused as she traces complex sigils in the air. The symbols flare brighter for an instant before dimming...

Seraphine's breath catches as Jeane begins the spell, the air around them seeming to thicken with arcane energy. The elf shifts her weight from foot to foot, torn between wanting to help and fear of disrupting the delicate working. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again, biting her lower lip in indecision.