Roleplay

Myria glanced up at the fae and the wildclaw, crests expanding in thought. She extended her crests, trying to sense the magic of the area, but she couldn't make out for sure whether there was any at all. She wondered vaguely if it was because the land itself was not of her natural element. "Well if there's a core, perhaps we should try and find it?" Myria remarked. "Though, how would we know if we found it?"

"No, that's fine." Clementia put a claw on her mate's front leg, reassuring him. "Atavus, you can go with him, find the others." She flicked her head towards Myria and Beltissa. "They have the right idea, I'm thinking. If we can get a few Faes to spread out, we might be able to find the edge of the effect, and work in from there to find where it's emanating from - or at least narrow down an area to search."

If there is an edge. She pushed the thought down with a little shiver. There was no reason to believe there wouldn't be. But she couldn't entirely shake off the irrational, nightmare image of a world stripped of magic, slowly going dark and silent and cold.

"Oh." Reshaki said. How could that happen?
"I think we'd better go and find Brudigan. He probably doesn't know what's causing it, but he probably would be able to figure it out with enough info." She said immediately afterward.

Molerince looked between Reshaki and Atavus, "well, much as it's gladdening to have several options open..." She wavered uncertainly.

Belttissa shook her frills in something akin to a sigh, "someone lead on, and we'll follow..."

Reshaki didn't wait for any more assent and headed off towards the Psykanna's sub camp at the centre of the Conclave.

"Right, then, let's go." Atavus nuzzled his mate, then stepped out from behind the stall and took to the air, looking back at Molerince. Like most Mirrors he wasn't terribly fond of flying, but the makeshift streets of the Conclave were clogged with frightened, milling dragons.

Clementia disappeared into the back of the tent for a moment, returning with several copies of a survey map on light parchment. It displayed the area of the Conclave, with a few rough boundaries and landmarks sketched in.

"Who's volunteering to help search for the boundary?" she asked, rolling out the top map on the pile. She picked up a pen and started drawing quick, neat lines on the map, each one so straight you would swear she'd used a ruler.

Myria watched Clementia produce some scrolls and begin to rapidly etch lines onto them. She fluttered up to land beside Clemetia to see what the scrolls contained. Myria soaked in the maps with her eyes, reveling in the displayed potential of land in the Starfall Isles to explore. "How will we know if we find it?" she asked, and then studying Clementia's lines further, added, "and what do those lines mean?"

"These," Clementia said, her tone distracted and faint as she drew, "are guidelines for a grid search pattern. Here's my plan. We each fly off in a different direction with a map. When you come into a new section of the grid, stop and attempt a simple spell. We're looking for a point where this... effect, whatever it is, tapers off or stops completely, allowing us to access magic again. Once you reach that point, turn and look for another section of the boundary. We'll each want to find a few, three or four, relatively well-spaced, and then come back here. Assuming the field takes a relatively regular shape, that should be enough for us to plot out its edges." Her eyes gleamed. "And if we can find its edges, we can find its centre."

She finished the first map and rolled it up, handing it off to Myria. "Do you think you can handle that?"

Molerince blinked and Belttissa interjected, "I'll try keep attentive for any change...as we go in that direction."
"Right," Molerince nodded, "good luck with the search wherever you go, everyone."
She stepped a little away from the group and leapt into flight. The Wildclaw beat her wings rapidly while Belttissa clung on, the former not wishing to be left behind by the Mirror.

"Thanks. Best of luck to you as well." Clementia gave them a little nod as they flew off.

Atavus rose in a high arc over the Conclave, scanning the crowd. He recognized the colourful tent he was looking for, near the centre of the gathering. A small frown creased his brow. There was already a fairly dense crowd surrounding the administrators.

He looked back to make sure he hadn't lost his followers, then angled his wings and descended towards the spot.