Exchange PI Burn'n till the sun goes down

[James Carter]

Outfit

Carter tapped his fingers against the wheel of the caddy. One if his rings making a heavy thump each time. He was a block down in a parking space watching a rather unassuming building. A building listed as a PI firm.

A building listed as the Exchange.

Carter let out a long slow breath. There wasn't any reason to worry, he was clean right now. Relatively speaking. No reason any of those folk would take ire with him walking up to the top floor.

Yeah. No reason at all as long as they didn't figure out his last name.

Getting out of the car, Carter made his way down the block with Darla walking next to him in the spirit world. James was tense but she was just annoyed, as expressed by her burnt visage her husband sometimes glanced in reflections.

“...”

Carter started to say something then stopped. It'd just piss her off more and she was already mad about this meeting.

Stepping into the building, Carter communicated to anyone he passed he was meeting a Dr. Dalton in the workshop and he faced no real opposition. Well... at least there was that.

[Dalton Cessair]

Cinder Collection Shining Aureus, Superb

Dalton was wondering if he wouldn't benefit from some metalworking courses, as he handled the selection of rings, bracelets, and amulets he'd found wandering the antique shops of Copeland Lane. It was certainly easier to custom craft something to suit his work, rather than poking around dusty corners. He didn't want to risk going to some mundie silversmith or goldsmith, with precise instruction, and risk it backfiring on him. Better to do the work himself.

As he selected the more relevant pieces for today's work, Dalton wondered if Mr. Carter was the type to be early or late. He'd informed the downstairs desk clerk on shift for today that he might have someone dropping by looking for him, so he wasn't worried about the man getting lost on his way. Of course, that wasn't the desk clerk's job, being an Exchange agent who'd pulled the short straw for the day, but they usually appreciated Dalton warning them.

He knew very little about Mr. Carter, but someone doing commissioned work for the first time rarely had that sort of insight. If more work came of it, perhaps Dalton might get a better measure of the man. Today was a chance, as Dalton placed the pieces of jewellery on a polishing cloth for later perusal.

The shine of something in the pile of Dalton's little pile of treasure caught his eye, the late afternoon light shining in through the wide windows of the workshop attic space. Dalton reached out and plucked out a golden aureus, magic shivering along his fingertips. It had been in a miscellaneous pile of trinkets in one antique shop, and Dalton could tell it was genuine gold. Dalton lacked the trained eye to discern if it was the genuine article from the Romans, but that was nothing he was too concerned about. What mattered was the tinge of potential to it, that unique quality he looked for when he dug through piles of items.

He set it aside, planning on finding a good use for it later. Either this ritual or another.

[James Carter]

Directed up by a helpful desk jocky, Carter considered the nature of running commission work out of the Exchange office. It was clever in a lot of ways. People likely to stay true to a deal, plenty of back up if things go south, and the exchange learns about someone dabbling on the spooky side of the street.

Most the types Carter saw for things were considerably less reputable. While the sense of security eas nice, the exchange wouldn't let a shoddy enchanter use their good name after all, the novelty of it more put him on edge than intrigued him.

Moving up the stairs he found the room just like the clerk had said. Carter wondered what it was like, being a receptionist working for monster hunters every day. Was it weird, did they even know? Well not his problem either way.

Opening the door even as he knocked twice, Carter spied a professional looking fellow and made some on the spot asumptions.

“Doc Dalton? I'm Carter.”

[Dalton Cessair]

Cinder Collection Aloe vera leaf, average

The actual main workspace for the Circle, with workbenches scattering the spaces and storage along the walls, was large and spacious. It could house many more ritualists than the actual number of the current Circle, but he wasn't certain that was by design. The building was simply... spacious. The wide windows making up one side of the room let in plenty of light, making it a pleasant space to work.

A double knock had Dalton looking up from his work, spotting the man entering. He raised a hand in greeting, just as the man spoke. “Carter, welcome. Come on in,” he invited the man, gesturing loosely for him to come over. There were no seats for observers around the workbench, so Carter would have to stand and watch.

Turning away, Dalton moved to the plants lined up beneath the windows. The selection of herbs, greenery, and fragrant flowers had come in piecemeal, already beginning to grow by the time Dalton had arrived. He'd added some, picking some flowers he knew were his mother's favourites and that he'd found some use for in his work. He reached for a small aloe vera plant, gently slicing off one of its thick leaves with a pruning knife.

He ran a finger along the cut, turning back to his workbench as he rubbed the slimy aloe jelly between his fingers. He placed it on the workbench to the side, nodding to Carter as he plucked up a rag to wipe off his fingers.

[James Carter]

Carter looked over the man.

He was older and looked to be in good shape. Not the kind of shape you saw on the streets but the kind you would expect from... well a doctor. Someone who made time to go to the gym to stay healthy. It wasn't good or bad but it was noticeable. He dressed upper class too, well he dressed professional. More things the southern Cafard wasn't fully used to. You got a fella dressed like that it wasn't uncommon to still see the bulge of a gun in his coat. Ah he was being too sensitive about it all.

Closing the door behind him, James waved to the enchanter. “Nice to finally put a face to the name, Doc.” Carter said as he moved into the space and started taking stock of what was around. Oh it was a treasure trove of bits and bobs, odds and ins... enough to make all manner of doodads and gris-gris. Heh, the things a competent magician could do in this room. Which meant that separated out like it was almost nothing in here was really that valuable to James. Oh he could see what a lot of it could be used for- he just didn't trust himself to try and do the doing. Hell, that was the whole reason for this meeting. Speaking of.

Carter glanced over to the good Doctor playing with some plants on the window sill. Aloe Vera by the look. Good for burns was Carter's thought. He had more first hand knowledge with the plant than a lot of people. Thanks to his wife. Who was floating around the room, inspecting the doctor was well. By her estimation... oh he was a handsome one. “So tell me Doc, any progress on my ask?”

[Dalton Cessair]

Cinder Collection Purified water, good

“Likewise,” Dalton called out in response to the man as he worked. He'd already figured out the man was a rough customer, but that wasn't unusual among the men and women who dealt more directly with the dangerous elements of the supernatural. Carter had certainly given off that impression, so concerned with defending himself.

As Carter spoke again, Dalton was already bracing his arms on the workbench, his sleeves pushed up and out of the way while he worked. He gave a nod at the man's word, an affirmative to the inquiry. Dalton had found two ways he could go about it, but he'd picked the one that demanded less power to be on the safe side.

“Yes, I have. I settled for something more towards healing, a sort of dual action healing and soothing effect after the burns happen,” Dalton elaborated, as he began lining up the various rings and necklaces that he'd tracked down, showing them to Carter. All noble metals; silvers and golds, but older and not outrageously priced. He liked most to work with the noble metals, even if he often reinforced the ritual markings themselves with a metal that could handle more wear. “A pre-emptive... shielding or invulnerability would be power intensive, and could falter in a vital moment if it overloads. I haven't got a source of energy strong enough to trust with something like that, yet.”

As he finished laying down the objects for Carter's perusal, he gestured over them, saying without so many words that the man should have a closer look. These were all things that Dalton could work with, but also fell within the criteria that Carter defined for the vehicle of the enchantment.

After that, he turned and rummaged in the cupboard behind him for a bottle of purified water and a clean Erlenmeyer flask. With his tools found, he turned back to the workbench and Carter, placing the flask down and uncapping the water. Dalton began pouring the purified water into the flask, smiling as the magical potential tingled in his hands as he poured. So far, so good.

[James Carter]

Third eye used

Carter nodded a couple times as they guy spoke. The Cafard was a bit let down that it wouldn't prevent burns but as long as they healed he figured that was good enough. Besides, Darla would probably prefer this anyway so whatever. The enchanter laid out a bunch of stuff and showed off some rings and things. Carter glanced at them and picked up a few. He had no real interest in style or such things. Instead he was looking for two main things. Sharp edges and weight. If things went south and he had to deck someone he wanted the ring to leave a pretty cut. Much like the Doc had said before that might not give well to the longevity of any enchanted item but Carter could just get it fixed. More useful to get some results in the moment than worry about keeping the hoodoo goin long term.

Carter focused and felt his eyes collect power from his wife. She rolled her own eyes and then moved to overshadow Carter so that their perspectives would match. In a moment the hues of the room shifted and- oh ow. Carter blinked hard a few times to end the effect. Minor magic about stuff aside, turns out the Exchange wasn't a place Carter particularly wanted to be opening his third eye. Figures the building would have some weirdness about it, maybe it was shielded or just had a lot of hell raging around but it was like glancing at the sun for a second there.

Carter dropped a couple rings and held up the heaviest one.

“Any problems making do with this one?” Carter asked.

Carter used the third eye, but the Exchange office is weird and he couldn't see anything save that there was power there.

[Dalton Cessair]

CHARM Helping hands
Cinder Collection Metal disc, average

Leaving Carter to his perusal, Dalton began thinking about gathering the things he needed in earnest. It was easy, instinctual even, to conjure up his extra pair of hands with a mere thought. Invisible to the naked eye, a fragment of Dalton's astral self, but able to touch and lift smaller objects. A thought sent them towards a cupboard further away, the door swinging upon as if on its own accord as the hands began rummaging in the little cubbies. They picked through several different collections, a selection Dalton thought he might have use for.

As they worked, Dalton did not move, observing Carter as the man perused the selection the ritualist had prepared. One could learn a lot from what kind of jewellery a man went for, but admittedly, the New Yorker wasn't one to pick up much other than style. If he got another commission from the man, it might help him select the vehicle of the enchantment with more confidence, rather than his searching for a selection. A few seemed more desirable than others, heavier rings, edged rather than rounded. None of the more delicate jewellery.

That made Dalton wonder if Carter was expecting the kind of trouble. The kind of trouble were jewellery would need to suffer getting banged around a little. Mulling that over, Carter's little hiccup went unnoticed by the ritualist. He was considering the favoured pieces the man was studying. The rest of his attention was on what his astral hands were bringing him.

Slowly, the hands came back with their bounty. Just as Carter spoke, Dalton stepped back from the workbench to pluck a metal disc that was seemingly floating in the air, along with a few other interesting objects. All of them were related to healing or, specifically, treating burns.

“Hm?” Dalton looked up from the metal disk, the polished metal shining in the sunlight coming through the windows. The chosen ring was one of the heavier ones, a lot of surface area for Dalton to work with. “Ah, yes. That will work quite well.”

[James Carter]

Carter blinked his eyes a few times until the spike of pain that came with looking at too much power finally passed. He rubbed his temple and noticed the things moving through the air. Nothing too heavy. No real complex movements, just point A to B... he judged it to be some minor telekinesis of some type. The how and what didn't matter as much but the grifter noted it all the same. Trick like that could come in real handy when you found yourself south of the border and locked up on mostly trumped up charges and a few feet shy of arm's length from a jail key hung on the wall. Dalton finally noted the ring Carter picked and seemed pleased enough with it.

One thing down.

Arcanist work was always interesting to Carter. Take a bit of this, a bit of that, something that made you think of one thing while being another. Then you threw it all together and channeled power into some scrimshaw you cut into a rock. Poof. Magic doodad. Real nifty, and while not always as practical as a gun (just as an example) most folks that gave you a pat down didn't worry themselves about a pretty ring or odd rock in a pocket. Which probably wasn't that smart anyway considering the damage you could do with a well thrown rock. Carter shrugged as he got his thoughts back together.

“Hypothetical Doc, ever considered enchanting a car? Find a way to insulate the engine with some kind of magic faraday cage and then just scrawl away with symbols on the chassis? Always wondered why more folk don't try it considering how much solid metal hidden from the sun older cars have.” Carter mused, thinking of his own car naturally.

[Dalton Cessair]

Cinder Collection Bandage, good.

Dalton set the disc aside with the rest of the odds and ends he'd gathered, moving the ring to the centre of the workbench in preparation for the scribing and the ritual itself. He glanced up as Carter as the man asked a question, listening as he reached into one of the workbench's drawers and ripped out a square of bandage, feeling the magic gathering at his fingertips as it responded to the sound of the act. The prelude to first aid, often.

“Personally? No, I haven't,” Dalton shared with an amused cock to his smile, placing the bandage alongside the other components he'd chosen for his enchantment. “It's a tricky prospect, and I'd judge impractical when mundane technology can accomplish the same result with less effort,” the doctor mused, thinking it over. He was not a gear head, so he saw little use in an enchanted car. Not when he could make smaller and less labour intensive things to accomplish his goals.

He continued, picking up the suggestion of a faraday cage, with a proper disclaimer on his expertise. “Magic containment isn't my field of study, but it seems paradoxical. Using magic for a faraday cage doesn't make it any less magical itself, and no material we know of blocks it, only weakens its effects.”

A magical human could hold a phone and not destroy it because the magic was contained in them, was his working theory. But a car was, in its whole, all its parts. A body and innards, if you thought of it that way. Would magic be mechanically minded enough to separate the pieces? Would the one doing the enchanting be mechanically minded enough? He rather thought a mechanic would have to do the work, for it to truly be practical to do.

[James Carter]

Carter nodded along with the theory Doc was laying down. Just cause the Southerner was a more dirt and grit kind of caster didn't mean he was ignorant of the higher learn'n side of things. Fact is having a broad, if considerably more shallow than the good Doctor's, knowledge of things helped a lot when it came to fucking up someone else's party. Nothing ruined a bokor's day like killing a sacrifice too early or pushing a rolling cart through the outer ring of his protection circle right when he invokes power. For example... Carter had heard. He would never do something that dangerous after the last three or four times. The doc's logic made pretty good sense, oh it would be well and good to throw up some magic to block more magic but that initial shielding would still be magic and thus a problem. Carter shrugged, a bit put off that he hadn't thought of that. “Well dang. There goes my plan of a car that can buff out its own dents.” he said. His plan of a car that could change its own paintjob and plate numbers too.

Then again though, might still be able to ward up the trunk so that people couldn't break out when tossed in. He figured that wasn't worth questioning with the good Doctor though... couldn't hurt to test the waters in another direction though. Carter Leaned over the counter looking at everything the doctor had collected and pursed his lips in thought. “Indulge me Doc. You know anything about speak'n to the dead?” he asked. Better phrasing than asking if the doctor knew Necromancy. People tended to get all touchy about the subject.

For Darla's part she turned and glared at her husband, and James felt a heat against the side of his neck that he assumed was her annoyance. He ignored it.

[Dalton Cessair]

Cinder Collection Pot marigolds, average

Dalton chuckled at Carter's words, amused at the man's words. It was such a painfully mundane way of using ritual magic, an oft dangerous and complicated process. The New Yorker wasn't completely innocent in using magical solutions when there were perfectly mundane ones around, but his usually concerned making it easier to perform said magic. He had the money to make most mundane things mere annoyances rather than barriers.

As Carted leaned forward to examine the components of the enchantment Dalton had chosen so far, he went underneath the workbench to pull out his mortar and pestle, a porcelain one that'd help him grind something finely and smoothly. As Carter posed his question, Dalton was carrying the mortar to the bench filled with fragrant herbs and flowers, humming thoughtfully. The question didn't offend, but it was vague enough to make him wonder about the man's motivations.

“The intangible kind, chiefly,” he answered, plucking some pot marigolds and dropping them into the mortar. He turned back to Carter, stepping back to the workbench as he gave the man an evaluative glance. Not suspicious, simply wondering at the topic. “It's classless to deal with corpses, rife with ethical quandaries. Good intentions don't last long when you're defiling a body.”

Picking up the pestle, Dalton began to grind the petals, beginning to render them down to a fragrant paste.

[James Carter]

Carter nodded along.

Fact was that James couldn't disagree with anything the Doc had said. Carter watched the man gather up more supplies, bits and bobs, then start grinding them in a mortar and pestle... why did people still use those? If it was ritually significant then sure gut that one didn't seem so special apart from being porcelain. Personally James would have used a blender or something, then again James was a shit ritualist so his opinion was probably wrong from the get go. Ah right, dead bodies.

“Oh I couldn't agree more. Takes a real craven shitstick to muck around with a corpse.” Carter said, drawing an accusing look from his ghostly wife.

“Still, sometimes I find myself dealing with less than agreeable sorts. I don't suppose you have any idea for enchanting a tool to help? In calling or banishing the ornery sort of ghosts someone might find themselves faced with?” Carter asked. He had something in mind but again would rather deal with a professional than try himself. And even if the doc didn't have any good ideas it wasn't like Carter couldn't deal with ghosts now.

[Dalton Cessair]

Still grinding down the marigolds, Dalton gave Carter an arch look at him going from speaking to the dead to... calling and banishing. Immediately uneasy, Dalton shook his head, deciding to not be helpful to the man in this case. There were ways, of course, the classic use of their living names the most obvious, and banishing could be simpler than drawing them to you, but Dalton hesitated to share with a man who spoke like he had an agenda.

“Speaking with the dead is rather different from calling and banishing,” Dalton pointed out, giving the marigolds a final circular grind in the mortar before he felt satisfied with the fragrant paste he had to work with. He glanced up, saying the obvious with a dubious look. “A foolproof trick is salt. Invest in high quality rock salt, if you have trouble with spirits.”

[James Carter]

Carter caught the raised eyebrow. Doc was giving him the same look that gas station types and the father's of pretty lady's sometimes threw out. The southerner didn't mind too much and kept his face pleasant. At the statement that speaking and calling were different James just shrugged.

“Depends on what you want to speak about, but I get your point.” Carter said.

A lot of hoodoo involved the spirits and the kind a bokor called you wanted bound in some way before more than two words ever crossed between you, but it was hard to tell someone that your best argument was the kind of magic predominantly evil voodooists practiced.

At the mention of salt Carter just nodded agreeably. “Solid advice if i ever heard it, doc.” he said cheerily.

Not that he could use it most the time. Darla liked salt like she liked him- though she could avoid salt most days. He'd used a few times and it always left her... grumpy for a week or two after. He could do without another blow radiator or melted sneaker sole.

“Mind walking me through your process here?” Carter asked, changing the subject tactfully while gesturing toward the herbs and paste the good doctor had made.

[Dalton Cessair]

Cinder (Ritual preparation) Complete success

Drawing spirits in deliberately was dangerous work, and Dalton didn't want to encourage it when he didn't entirely trust how it might be used. He could be compelled to, if the Exchange came to him with a similar ask, but there he could trust some idea of how it might be used. Not always, of course. He left that conversation tail end there, regardless, focusing on sorting out the components for the spell he planned to enchant into the ring.

Scraping the paste into a small bowl, Dalton glanced at Carter as the question was asked. He mentally shook himself, setting the mortar and pestle aside. “These are the components of the spell. Things that appeal to all the senses and will either help it adhere to the ring or facilitate the healing.” Dalton explained, beginning to organise the components in a circle on the workbench, where he'd be putting his ritual circle and symbols when he got to it. “Aloe, for taste. Purified water–” he set the Erlenmeyer flask down, and began pouring the water into it, the quiet glug loud in the space, “–for sound. A metal disk, for sight. A bandage, for touch. And pot marigolds, for the scent.”

[James Carter]

Carter nodded along. He knew the bare bones basics for this bit. Hit all five senses to bind it to an object, except that even k ow he knew the rhetoric he never really understood it. Why sound and taste to latch a spell onto a lump of metal? Hell why any of them at all. Why did some people use all the senses and others leave some out? Carter knew risk of failure rose if you didn't use enough but how did you figure it out?

In the end he just didn't have the knack for composing rituals and even when doing them by rote from a book barely got a fizzle of power. How his family ever landed on the marriage ritual for ghosts he'll never know but they seemed able to keep that one working consistently.

“Well ain't that nifty. I used to know a fella south o' the border who swore that if you couldn't get an ingredient replacing it with jaguar blood worked just as good. Dunno if he was right but he was mighty strong when he was alive.” Carter rambled.

What had happened to Javier? Oh right, eaten by jaguars.

[Dalton Cessair]

Cinder (Ritual preparation) Exceptional success
CHARM (Light Painting)

Dalton arched an eyebrow at the tale of Carter's friend. “That's... certainly extravagant?” He said, after a beat, although he didn't sound certain of what he said. Foolhardy might be a better word, but Dalton wasn't certain what went into getting said jaguar blood.

Regardless of the questionable habits of Carter's friends, Dalton continued his work. Satisfied with the placement of the component, he reached for the chain that held his amulet and pulled it out from underneath his shirt, letting it hang from his neck out in the open. He lifted his hands, clasped together in front of himself as if he was holding something in his palms before the magic triggered and light bloomed between his hands. He pulled his hands apart, expanding an exact copy of the pattern on his amulet, traced in shining lines of light.

“The next step,” he began, recalling Carter's wish to be walked through the process. “Is to scribe the ritual circle and place the runes...” he trailed off, manipulating the geometric pattern contained in a double circle in front of himself, adjusting the size and angle of it, to bring it to hover just above the workbench surface. His focus was sharpened on the work, knowing at this step he couldn't lose his concentration. A good thing he was used to dealing with the stress of a surgery suite.

Happy with the placement, he lifted his hands and the glowing geometric ritual circle remained. He let out a pleased hum, before he began writing with his fingertip, leaving glowing lines as he wrote out the spell. To anyone with passing familiarity with Mesopotamian history and culture, the Cuneiform would be familiar with its wedge-shaped pattern marking out each word.

[James Carter]

Carter appreciated the running commentary from the good Doc. Technically the Southerner had only asked about the components, but it was a good guess he wanted the play by play overall. The little light show was impressive too, and both James and Darla leaned in to watch the lines. James Nathan Carter Les Cafard was familiar with a little bit of a whole heck of a lot, and while no one would say he was an expert on any one subject it was hard to discount that he could certainly make himself sound informed on most things, even if it was a mix of charisma and confidence layered heavily over a single nugget or two of actual knowledge- but this was the first time he had seen Mesopotamian script and he watch the symbols with keen interest. Could he read them? Nah. Could he write them later? Psht, no. But after a minute or so he was fairly confident that if he saw them again somewhere he'd be able to associate them with what he was looking at now. Meaning that he might be able to call the doctor up with a question if and when.

Little bit of a heck of a lot.

All that said, once he had a feel for the curves of the script and symbol, Carter took a polite step back from the table and shut his yap so the doctor could work. Carter had no reason to think that whatever it was that made his family such shit at magic had any kind of static aura to affect others, but he was the cautious sort since he had a record of futzing up the rituals of others anyway. Those instances were mostly intentional on his part but better safe than sorry. Darla had no such compulsion and continued to watch the beautiful light show with stars in her eyes. She liked it when magic was beautiful, like fireworks in the night.

[Dalton Cessair]

Cinder (Ritual preparation) Exceptional success

Carter said nothing as Dalton worked, so the New Yorker assumed the southerner was content to observe for now. He continued scribing his cuneiform spell, pausing only to reach for the chosen ring and place it in the centre of the ritual circle, on top of the metal disk he'd placed there. The metal was an important factor to the longevity of the spell, with gold being more prone to damage. Hidden under the ring's face meant it would be subtle and protected to a degree, although it would still need refreshing in a few years.

Returning to the runes, Dalton scribed a few last lines, properly embedding the instruction of what he wanted to the magic to do once he activated it. Then he straightened up, satisfied with the work with a firm nod. He would not be telling the man what it said, considering it would both be useless to the man and specific to Dalton's methodology. That was why replicating others' work could be a tricky prospect, everyone had their way of building up the central 'code' of their spells.

The lines of light held firm as Dalton stepped away, moving to a cupboard at the back to fetch a freshly charged car battery. Not the most elegant of power sources, but it was the most convenient for the sort of work the Circle did. He'd tossed around some ideas for a better source, one that didn't rely on human science, considering the tricky interplay. It was a tall order to make a perpetual magic source of power, though.

Bringing the car battery over, he placed it next to the circle and added the final runes, linking the spell to the car battery, and making sure there was a strong a failsafe as he could embed in it, so it wouldn't make a mess of the building's power. Or, god forbid, try to suck it from the two humans standing around it. There was no guaranteed way of stopping that, if the magic decided to backfire, but Dalton always tried each time.

“There, it should be ready now,” Dalton murmured, satisfied. He glanced up at Carter, pausing to see if the man had anything to comment, or a last request on the enchantment.

[James Carter]

Carter watched those little magnificent lines of light settle into the metal and nodded like any good observer should. He didn't know if this was always the process or if the Doc was putting a bit of razzmatazz on to make it all seem more impressive. If he wasn't, Carter wondered what it would look like if he did? Could probably hike his prices up a bit if he made it look more showy- not that it wasn't already a neat presentation already.

Once all the light settled the good doctor went and brought out a car battery. This surprised James a bit but he figured it must have been safer than tapping into the building's power on its own if things went tits up.

A lot of arcanists used batteries like that Carter noted. Considering the electricity was chemically produced instead of machine generated, the southerner figured it was one of the few bits of man made technology that stayed mostly reliable in the face of magic.

Or maybe he just knew a lot of cheapskate arcanists. Dalton declared it was ready and Carter nodded. Once the ring was done, and he had no reason to think the doc would fail- he'd have Darla help him see how good the final product was.

“Whenever yer ready Doc.” Carter said letting Dalton know he was ready for the attempt and any consequences of a failed effort.

[Dalton Cessair]

Cinder (Ritual activation) Exceptional success
Unknown Keyword (Healing): Circlebreaker pool, Threshold +1
Focus object: Threshold -1

As Carter spoke, Dalton nodded to himself. He brought a hand up to the amulet around his neck, the one he'd echoed for the ritual circle itself. It felt alive under his palm, like it was channeling the magic Dalton was getting prepared to trigger, but some of that was his own anticipation. Drawing in a breath, the ritualist reached for the pocket knife he kept on the workbench and flicked open the blade.

Many favoured the thumb for the bleeding, but Dalton thought it best to pick different spots to bleed. He occasionally did it that way, but his preferred method was drawing the blade along his palm. The scars were harder to identify, especially if he stuck to the same spot each time and applied a healing ointment to the place. Carefully, he nicked his palm, reaching out and turning his hand palm down over the ritual circle.

The drop fell slowly to his perception, like the world was holding its breath right before the magic triggered. When the drop of blood splashed against the hard light lines of the ritual circle, everything happened all at once. The light flared bright and the geometric shapes and circles began to move, turning around the ring and the metal disk, the components disappearing as they were sucked into the magic in action. The light show spun aroun the ring, tightening inwards as it spun around the centre point. It was too bright to see, but the enchantment itself embedded onto the metal disk, and in turn it was fused to the back of the ring. The magic was smart, expanding the ring just-so, so the ring did not change in size.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the ritual concluded in a flash, the lights and circle popping out of existence and leaving them in the suddenly dim room. The ring, golden and momentarily shining on its own, had changed very little. On the inside band, cuneiform had been etched into it, barely noticeable.

Feeling that rush of adrenaline in himself, Dalton let out a slow breath as he reached out and lifted up the ring, turning it around in his hands as he inspected his work. It was always exciting to do good work, and this he knew was well-done, the craftsmanship of the enchantment matching that of the golden ring. It would stand up to some abuse, even if it wasn't bulletproof against the ever present wear and tear of the sun. The hard work was done, though, and to refresh it would be a simple process.

[James Carter]

Carter Cinder Fire 6d6: 5 passes (exceptional success)

Like before the light show was a nice touch and Carter still wondered if it was a little for performance sake. When the Doc cut his hand Carter felt a strange kind of anticipation, a near fanatic appreciation for magic that all but lived in his very bones. His eyes followed the drop of blood that fell to the ritual.

A second later he was blinking away spits because the whole thing had ended in a flash. That was his fault, he could have guessed that would happen. He rubbed his eyes and bit then glanced back at the ring the Doc was holding up.

Still looked like a normal ring to Carter.

He considered asking Darla to help him get a closer look but held off when he remembered how blinding the building overall had been to him.

Instead he reached over to pluck the ring, a touch rudely to be honest, and secure it to a finger on his right hand. He nodded once he mentally called to his wife through their unusual connection.

In a second she was at his side, gently tracing her fingers over his arm, it was a tender caress though her eagerness to give it mostly came from what she knew her husband was about to do.

Carter too
K his right hand, and firmly pressed his thumb to his left forearm. There was a sudden hiss and he grimaced. Burns were never pretty and uniquely painful.

After a couple of seconds he pulled his hand away and shook it, a faint trail of smoke pulling from the offe di g thumb, while on his other arm a thumbprint of seared flesh stood angry against his skin.

“How long you think it will take this to heal with the ring Doc? Or at least to take the sting off?” Carter said wincing again.

He was no stranger to burns but knowing pain didn't really make him a fan of it.

Carter Luck 3/4

Carter... reduced his own luck track! What a fucking moron!

[Dalton Cessair]

Dalton gave the man a sharp look when Carter snatched the ring from his hand. He held his tongue though. The customer had their product, and while Dalton didn't believe in the worn out adage that the customer was always right, it wasn't an argument he was interested in having. That irritation was rapidly forgotten as Carter pulled an astoundingly stupid stunt.

It took a moment for the New Yorker to realise what the man was doing. He watched, puzzled, as the man pressed his thumb to his forearm. The hiss of something hot was confounding, before the man pulled his thumb away, the smoke and smell filling in the rest of the context for what had just happened. A little disgusted, Dalton gave the man a frown, but he answered the question.

“Depends on the amount of damage to the dermis, but I'd estimate hours,” Dalton offered, giving the burn an evaluative glance. “The exact time is something you'll have to find out for yourself.”