"I'm far from finished." Power hums in the air as Hawke gathers his magic to him, the edges of his cloak rising slightly and rippling on an unseen wind. The air in the Down is stagnant and close as ever but in their small corner of it it moves, turning against their quarry all on its own at his directive.
The temperature around them drops several degrees as Hawke shoves the man over the sinkhole but he does not fall immediately. He's left hovering but silent, scrambling at his throat for breath and feet flailing. A gesture of Hawke's hands and the front of his shirt tears open. The wind picks up, cold and cutting in a very literal sense, directed with intricate cruelty into the squirming guard's naked chest. With maticulous precision a word scrawls itself there, the process taking both an excruciatingly several seconds and far too short a time for what the man deserves. By the time Hawke's finished, the guard has passed out entirely and floats rotating slowly in the air over the sinkhole so Hawke can survey his handiwork before the man drops down into the darkness below, a message clear to anyone who would find him later.
no subject
The temperature around them drops several degrees as Hawke shoves the man over the sinkhole but he does not fall immediately. He's left hovering but silent, scrambling at his throat for breath and feet flailing. A gesture of Hawke's hands and the front of his shirt tears open. The wind picks up, cold and cutting in a very literal sense, directed with intricate cruelty into the squirming guard's naked chest. With maticulous precision a word scrawls itself there, the process taking both an excruciatingly several seconds and far too short a time for what the man deserves. By the time Hawke's finished, the guard has passed out entirely and floats rotating slowly in the air over the sinkhole so Hawke can survey his handiwork before the man drops down into the darkness below, a message clear to anyone who would find him later.
NOTHING