smartass_captain

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Knowing Isidor's skill in this type of dance, Felix was hoping for something special. Something intense. And great Clavicus Vile did he ever get his wish. His familiar keeps up the guard around the circle, but the mage himself is left open-mouthed, staring in awe at the way she and the elemental move together. How fearless Isidor is. How immediately they understand one another. How every step and snap of their fingers makes poetry of their movements, a story as haunting as the song flowing over them. He knows he's not the only one who gasps when the atronach leaves that burning mask over Isidor's face; when mage and fire spirit pull each other close. The gathering crowd is utterly rapt. And yet Felix knows the dancers hardly know or care. They're dancing for themselves. They're dancing because this is what they are.

He has to shake himself back to his senses when the dance finally slows to a stop. Magdra Sakris inclines her horned head to Isidor, clawed hands spreading outward. Felix steps forward.

"If you're ready to release the spell...?" he manages, finding his voice. When Isidor gives him the nod, he'll reach out and unmake the binding, letting Magdra Sakris's physical form dissipate in sparks.

"I'm sure... she'll long remember this excursion to a mortal plane," Felix says. Behind Isidor, the bonfire is roaring triumphantly. "As will all of us. Thank you. That was... a privilege to watch.