Jareth watched the mages work with wide-eyed interest.  It served to keep his gaze off the gorgeous woman next to Tsitua.  He’d been hard-pressed not to gape at her when she stepped on the train, but he doubted a bombshell like her would even notice someone like him, and it wasn’t like he was going to be staying more than a couple days anyhow.  The magic was interesting, at least.  He’d seen a few minor spells, hanging out as he did with Amuné, but nothing like this.

It was the symbols on Tsitua’s skin that held the younger student’s attention.  Opposing but balanced, each needing the other half.  Much like Tsitua himself.  Odd that they called him a Vassal (did you mean vessel?  I can’t be entirely sure) of Death, and she might ask why later.  The magic seemed needlessly ritualized, but Amuné didn’t comment.  When told they could come forward, she started right away, but her friend hung back, uncertain.  “Cold feet?” she asked him, amused.  Her variety of magic was not very obvious, and he’d never been around any of the flashier mages.  “C’mon, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”  The young woman offered her hand and then together they strode into the mages' gateway.

[@TheMinorFall]