[ he's standing there a little shell-shocked, actually, from the acuteness of the memory. one hand over the mark on his chest, fingers pressed in slightly, as if to relieve pain. ]
... In a sense. It is the origin of the mark - the explosive nature that I carry in my chest. It absorbs magic, though to call it magic itself-- it is not a magic I am entirely familiar with, but it must be of a kind.
I don't know that just anyone would have survived the initial moment - it was my deep well of personal magic that allowed it to be briefly sated before consuming me entirely.
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[ she gives a start at the terrifying, painful, abrupt end to that memory. ]
What was that... Magic?
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... In a sense. It is the origin of the mark - the explosive nature that I carry in my chest. It absorbs magic, though to call it magic itself-- it is not a magic I am entirely familiar with, but it must be of a kind.
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I don't understand much about magic or this "Weave," but it seems that you're lucky to be alive.
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I don't know that just anyone would have survived the initial moment - it was my deep well of personal magic that allowed it to be briefly sated before consuming me entirely.