For a moment, all Essek takes from this demonstration is the incredible view of Percival's cock and how much he wants all of that inside him, but he forces himself to take in the essentials. The sooner and better he can get this constructed, the sooner and better he can get himself fucked.
"I understand. This will suffice, then." He shuffles off the blanket he's been laying on, freeing it so that he can lift and shake it out--not physically, of course, but with a motion of his hand and a tug on gravity. It will be wide enough when spread out, and softer than an actual table against his hips. Yes, this will do nicely.
The worst part of all of his is that Essek has to make himself stand. It takes a moment because his legs are shaky, and he hasn't gotten up since he first laid down. But he arranges things so that the blanket is suspended in the air at the ideal height for him to bend over and have Percival bent over him, as his husband had helpfully shown. Then he uncaps the tiny bottle of gold dust, taps a small amount into his hand, and casts the spell that will secure it.
There's a faint shimmer over the blanket as Essek sprinkles it with the dust from his palm, and through arcane manipulation reverses and then freezes the gravitational forces around this object to leave it resting in the air, not just floating, but fixed. Thankfully, this is a spell he's known for most of his life, and it is not one that taxes him in the way that Telepathy had earlier. While the result is impressive, it is really very simple if one only understands the most basic tenants of dunamancy.
"There," he announces. There is no need to brush the gold dust from his hands; the spell has consumed it. He caps the bottle to save what remains and lean his hip against the edge of the blanket as he would a table, though this is far more solid. "Even if we are very vigorous, it won't budge. For the next hour, at least."
no subject
"I understand. This will suffice, then." He shuffles off the blanket he's been laying on, freeing it so that he can lift and shake it out--not physically, of course, but with a motion of his hand and a tug on gravity. It will be wide enough when spread out, and softer than an actual table against his hips. Yes, this will do nicely.
The worst part of all of his is that Essek has to make himself stand. It takes a moment because his legs are shaky, and he hasn't gotten up since he first laid down. But he arranges things so that the blanket is suspended in the air at the ideal height for him to bend over and have Percival bent over him, as his husband had helpfully shown. Then he uncaps the tiny bottle of gold dust, taps a small amount into his hand, and casts the spell that will secure it.
There's a faint shimmer over the blanket as Essek sprinkles it with the dust from his palm, and through arcane manipulation reverses and then freezes the gravitational forces around this object to leave it resting in the air, not just floating, but fixed. Thankfully, this is a spell he's known for most of his life, and it is not one that taxes him in the way that Telepathy had earlier. While the result is impressive, it is really very simple if one only understands the most basic tenants of dunamancy.
"There," he announces. There is no need to brush the gold dust from his hands; the spell has consumed it. He caps the bottle to save what remains and lean his hip against the edge of the blanket as he would a table, though this is far more solid. "Even if we are very vigorous, it won't budge. For the next hour, at least."