ORIGIN

When V-Onyx-Two arrived back at the Merchant, it was with weary steps and an armful of what could only be described as 'junk.' He'd spent hours rooting around in the ruins of Orion's ancient cities, but he held no magic that could discern what was actually useful or not. The Stolzite, the Amazonite, the Turquoise, the various beads and carvings--all of these were lifeless. Only a Pupil-level Dravite held any magic in it.

"I do not know how many of these are useful to you," he stated stiffly, trying to appear dignified. Truth be told, he was sweating and weary.

And upon being informed that only one object was of use... he settled himself in to granting a few additional charges of magic to the Catalyst stone, instead. The first spell was another Orb, like the first: a ball of glowing magic that was sucked into the stone with a quiet pop. He leaned back, rolled his shoulders, and prepared for another attempt.

He resolved to cast until exhaustion. "Exhaustion" being, the moment his magic failed him. The second surge of power was flickering, a little weaker, the orb a little dimmer. But magic was still magic, and the Catalyst accepted it (and by 'accepted' one might understand 'gobbled it greedily') nonetheless.

He took a breath, and glanced to the Merchant.

But there was nothing there. Just empty, blank eye holes. No sign of approval, or dismissal. No sign, even, that the Merchant was just waiting patiently. It's like a haunted tree is just standing there, he thought, annoyed.

Black wings arched up, then down again, the hybrid flexing his muscles as if to ready himself again. His hands lifted, fingertips arched, and he concentrated for another cast.

This one, too, was weaker. A dim flicker, the same as before, but it wasn't weakening, at least. Onyx-Two watched as the light vanished into the orb and then he stood back, taking a moment to breathe.

He should've rested before coming back here. Slept, ate, drank. This rushing around had been draining, and the continous casting was incredibly so.

Still... he was determined. He didn't want to just stop. He represented the Forge, here--or rather, his actions here represented his value to the Forge. He couldn't just... fail. Or even succeed "a little." He had to really blow it out of the water!

As it turned out, he'd perhaps pushed himself too hard. Another deep breath, another moment's focus, and his hands came up again--and nothing happened, this time. There was a wisp of light a moment later, but whatever that was wasn't for the Catalyst; instead it seared through his nerves, gnawing at his gemstone so that he buckled back and over with palms clasped to his sternum. His face twisted in a pained grimace and he realized a moment later that he'd fallen into the sand.

A glance up showed the Merchant still standing silent, no reaction shown whatsoever. Sullenly, Onyx-Two spoke. "That is as much as I can give." Annoyed, he began to push up--but exhaustion took him, dizziness swaying him. He had to sit back down, shaded by his own wings.

He'd have to rest here, for a time, though the moment anyone else approached he'd stand back up. For his own dignity, if nothing else.