She can feel his control, indirect and different than the usual strings she would cut in a hostile takeover, whether of a necromancer or the natural owner of the limb. She tries to creep into the space he's leaving, squinting in concentration. Blood sweat begins to collect on her brow.
The characters flicker... brighten... flare too bright, and the smell of charring bone rises again from the construct. But Harrow has been practicing the regenerating bone theorem to the point of delirium, and the characteristic silvery sheen begins to spread.
At the same time she ratchets back her thanergy control until the glow dims. She can feel the unfamiliar magic trying to tap into her motor cortex, and now it is her turn to relax slowly and surrender to something that feels downright off.
For a moment the arm wobbles, caught between her puppeteering and the reflection magic, but when she stills the control theorem it moves as easily as her own arm.
"The hard part is resisting the urge to control it," she says. "Letting it simply mirror. Perhaps if--" She focuses on her own arm as an assemblage of bone, and focuses her control there instead, puppeting herself as she has done in moments of great strain. "Aha!"
Her hand, and the skeletal one, clench in triumph.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2020-10-10 04:30 pm (UTC)The characters flicker... brighten... flare too bright, and the smell of charring bone rises again from the construct. But Harrow has been practicing the regenerating bone theorem to the point of delirium, and the characteristic silvery sheen begins to spread.
At the same time she ratchets back her thanergy control until the glow dims. She can feel the unfamiliar magic trying to tap into her motor cortex, and now it is her turn to relax slowly and surrender to something that feels downright off.
For a moment the arm wobbles, caught between her puppeteering and the reflection magic, but when she stills the control theorem it moves as easily as her own arm.
"The hard part is resisting the urge to control it," she says. "Letting it simply mirror. Perhaps if--" She focuses on her own arm as an assemblage of bone, and focuses her control there instead, puppeting herself as she has done in moments of great strain. "Aha!"
Her hand, and the skeletal one, clench in triumph.