[As a student of Creation magic, Myr himself had spent long hours practicing at drawing glyphs. It is an exacting form of spellcraft, and not one he was immediately suited for, given his propensity for enthusiasm over rigor. But he had become proficient in time, and so it's with a fellow-mage's eyes he watches L set out his runes. The forms and arrays are alien, but the particular nuances of placing them have a universal appeal. In this context, illuminated by the stars and writing upon the sand with sure grace, L is breathtaking.
Even the acute distress of seeing the eyes pop open beneath the sand is muted by L's motions; they are a focus and distraction Myr gladly devours with the deer's sharp eyesight. He does not know what spell it is L's casting--he knows only a handful of runes, and those only by touch--but even now his head's begun to feel a little clearer, the intrusive onus of his thoughts less burdensome.
Exhausted as he is, even that little bit of reprieve is enough to push him toward sleep. His eyes flutter and his chin dips toward his chest--only for him to jerk alert a moment later. This is a rare opportunity L is giving him and he wants (wants in excess of what meager emotions he has lately) to see it through.]
no subject
Even the acute distress of seeing the eyes pop open beneath the sand is muted by L's motions; they are a focus and distraction Myr gladly devours with the deer's sharp eyesight. He does not know what spell it is L's casting--he knows only a handful of runes, and those only by touch--but even now his head's begun to feel a little clearer, the intrusive onus of his thoughts less burdensome.
Exhausted as he is, even that little bit of reprieve is enough to push him toward sleep. His eyes flutter and his chin dips toward his chest--only for him to jerk alert a moment later. This is a rare opportunity L is giving him and he wants (wants in excess of what meager emotions he has lately) to see it through.]