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(no subject)

Who: Chimera's Resident Wizards
What: SPIRALS
When: Sunday
Where: Chimera HQ, possibly spreading outward from there.
Rating: PG-13, could get bloody, will change if necessary.

[It might have started innocently enough. A few doodles, sketches. Mild obsession at best. But wizards are creatures of ritual, and by Sunday, Chimera is abuzz with ritual activity. All other pursuits seem to have fallen by the wayside in favor of transforming the space, inch by inch into some sort of complex spiraled ritual circle which has clearly outgrown its original bounds and is now creeping ever outwards.

Anyone sane looking in on it would be horrified.

Howl has take up a space in one corner, once pristine jacket coated with a fine white layer of chalk dust, working an ever more complex pattern of interlocking spirals up along the inside corner.]

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_{[ The spirals. The spirals were beautiful, weren't they? Vanyel had been captivated by them since they had appeared, working spirals into his hair and burning them into his clothing when he put them on. He wore it now, even, watching in delight as Howl worked his spirals in chalk into the walls and floors. ]}

It's beautiful, Howl.

_{[ His voice is reverent, awe-struck. ]}

It's still not enough.

[There's a note of utter frustration in his voice. He just can't seem to work fast enough at it]

Yes, yes of course, not enough...

_{[ He totally agreed with him, watching him work. He could help. Yes,
he could help. ]}

I'll burn it into the stone. It will be permanent that way.

_{[ That sounded like a wonderful idea, didn't it? He came up beside
Howl and crouched, summing fire to his palm with his Gift and pressing it
to the wall, leaving behind a charred line as he worked on spirals himself.
]}

[ Duke is, unsurprisingly, far more inclined to touch. He can't see the spirals, after all, so he's touching them.

At the moment, he's content with finger painting a dully glowing red spiral about a chair, slowly inching it higher and higher about it. He hasn't .. quite, gotten as destructive yet, and his hair is just curled where he could easily reach it. ]

[Symbolically speaking, circles and spirals were both incredibly simple and incredibly complex. The shapes could mean completeness and infinity, time and the turning wheel, the sun and the moon. Nearly every ritual he knew started with that basic shape. Felix isn't sure what they're creating, nor can he explicitly remember what the original ritual was for, except the circle they'd started with that begun to warp into something so much more. Each whorl connecting to another, channeling power ever inward towards the center. It was thaumaturgical perfection.

Felix's part of this has wound like vines out into the hallway and towards the circular lobby. His chalk is down to a nub so small that his fingers scrape against the edges of the mosaic floor, staining parts of the lines with streaks of red. But he doesn't care. The wizard simply continues drawing, muttering to himself as he goes]

It's perfect, Howl. Perfect. I don't know why we haven't tried this before...

[He's inspecting all the work, the endless intricacy of it all winding out in more complex patterns as it goes. He keeps catching himself trying to walk the pattern, drawn back towards the middle. But he's made it to where Felix is working, inspecting the other wizard's handiwork]

We simply hadn't though of it... though I don't know why...

[It all seems so obvious now, after all]

[Felix's branch of the patterns more closely resemble the trailing vines of his Cabalin tattoos, each leading to a central branch heading inexorably towards the center of the circle that had started in Howl's workroom]

The simplicity of the obvious. It was right in front of our noses the whole time.

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