[center][h2][b][color=silver]Lhirinthyl[/color][/b][/h2][/center][hr]
Victor, Victim. As ever, the dividing line between the two was a perilous one and Lhirin had not walked it well. Still, with two spells and the threat of suffocation on his mind, the deigan mage hardly had the time to consider things for more than an instant. Instead, what he [i]was[/i] dealing with was what most would consider primal fear. Lhirin considered it an annoyance. It was something he'd trained to resist, both with Irah and before her. So, when his head was suddenly enveloped in water and his neck strained, body lifted from the ground, Lhirin clamped down [i]hard[/i] on his emotions even as he fixated even more intensely upon his spellcraft. There was a brief stutter in the hovering formation of iron nails surrounding his runeblade, then nothing. Yet, before Lhirin could act something splashed into the midst of the wraith.

He felt the hold on him loosen, but could not quite react in time to take advantage. The only thing he managed as he was deposited into the wraith-possessed rug was to land squarely in a kneel. His shin ached from the impact, but the feeling was distant as the decoration swallowed him like some cloth maw.

The constriction was unbelievably unpleasant, but unfortunately for the rug, Lhirin had not lost hold of his spells, or even his runeblade. Thus, Lhirin directed the needles that surrounded it using his Magnetic Field spell and had them simultaneously impale the rug from multiple angles. While a far off feeling of frustration simmered in the back of his mind, Lhirin kept himself from [i]burning[/i] through the rug instead.

He didn't want to offend the Lady Bor any further, after all.