[There's something weirdly unnatural about killing something called a 'spirit'. Ending their afterlife seems cruel, to her -- but she doesn't bother explaining it. Instead, she shifts the bowl and candle to the crook of her arm before she steps forward, toward the circle where Tibor had been residing, and hesitantly extended her free arm, though her fingers stop just shy of the circle.
It's a powerful amount of energy. Everything leaves a signature. And she looks almost thoughtful, as she looks into the circle, to remember how it feels, before she recoils her hand, a soft 'hm' escaping.
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[There's something weirdly unnatural about killing something called a 'spirit'. Ending their afterlife seems cruel, to her -- but she doesn't bother explaining it. Instead, she shifts the bowl and candle to the crook of her arm before she steps forward, toward the circle where Tibor had been residing, and hesitantly extended her free arm, though her fingers stop just shy of the circle.
It's a powerful amount of energy. Everything leaves a signature. And she looks almost thoughtful, as she looks into the circle, to remember how it feels, before she recoils her hand, a soft 'hm' escaping.
Life in Adstringendum got weirder every day.]