[One sigil. Evocation. He moves to the next: Reparation. Then to the third and the fourth, all with measured movements: he has done this before, knows this particular glyph by heart. His circles may be wobbly and uneven, but when it comes to their contents, he cannot help but relax as he works more from muscle memory than conscious thought. This world and his undead form are unfamiliar, but this? This is what he's used to. For the brief moment he is working, he feels like himself again.
Of the three zombies gnashing their teeth at Qubit, one suddenly stops, the feral wrath dissipating from his expression. Whatever hunger motivated him seems gone, his arms dropping to his sides. Several seconds later, a second one follows suit, no longer interested in Qubit in favor of... just standing there. Eyeball continues to gnash his teeth, and flail uselessly at his prey, but the other two loiter nearby, having seemingly forgotten what drew them over there in the first place.
Carlisle finishes his glyphs, four identical sets of circles and symbols lining the main aisle. Straightening up, he tucks his chalk away, giving his handiwork one more lookover before he turns his attention to his companion, polite worry weaving into his brow.]
Are you all right up there?
[Eyeball continues to hiss and spit at Qubit, but the other two turn toward Carlisle's voice, their heads lolling left and right as they try to detect the source of the sound. Though he's standing well within their visual range, they seem unable to determine where he is, as predicted.]
no subject
Of the three zombies gnashing their teeth at Qubit, one suddenly stops, the feral wrath dissipating from his expression. Whatever hunger motivated him seems gone, his arms dropping to his sides. Several seconds later, a second one follows suit, no longer interested in Qubit in favor of... just standing there. Eyeball continues to gnash his teeth, and flail uselessly at his prey, but the other two loiter nearby, having seemingly forgotten what drew them over there in the first place.
Carlisle finishes his glyphs, four identical sets of circles and symbols lining the main aisle. Straightening up, he tucks his chalk away, giving his handiwork one more lookover before he turns his attention to his companion, polite worry weaving into his brow.]
Are you all right up there?
[Eyeball continues to hiss and spit at Qubit, but the other two turn toward Carlisle's voice, their heads lolling left and right as they try to detect the source of the sound. Though he's standing well within their visual range, they seem unable to determine where he is, as predicted.]