What he doesn't understand is the nature of their source of magic. It's certainly not mana, or there wouldn't be anything left at all; if there was empty space left over where a planet used to be, he'd consider them lucky, if those dots were manavores.
Reaching into his endless pocket, he pulls out ... a spatula.
It's. Mildly gaudy-looking, matte black and edged with a glimmering blue crystal, and its handle is wrapped in what looks like platinum, if platinum was as supple as leather.
And with it, as if he was flipping an egg, he digs into the drawing the woman has made, and brings out one of the blue squiggles. Simply pulling the drawing out of the page, like digging up a worm.
He peers at it for a moment, then flips it - and the strange drawing flies up and comes down as a tiny, tiny blob of pure essence.
... It's not real, though. It's already simply - vanishing, ceasing to exist.
It seems to be enough for him, though, as he frowns mildly at it.
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What he doesn't understand is the nature of their source of magic. It's certainly not mana, or there wouldn't be anything left at all; if there was empty space left over where a planet used to be, he'd consider them lucky, if those dots were manavores.
Reaching into his endless pocket, he pulls out ... a spatula.
It's. Mildly gaudy-looking, matte black and edged with a glimmering blue crystal, and its handle is wrapped in what looks like platinum, if platinum was as supple as leather.
And with it, as if he was flipping an egg, he digs into the drawing the woman has made, and brings out one of the blue squiggles. Simply pulling the drawing out of the page, like digging up a worm.
He peers at it for a moment, then flips it - and the strange drawing flies up and comes down as a tiny, tiny blob of pure essence.
... It's not real, though. It's already simply - vanishing, ceasing to exist.
It seems to be enough for him, though, as he frowns mildly at it.