Papers and debris floating to the floor like rain as the winds of magic dissipated into harmlessness. Behind a tossed desk, Emmaline could hear a short groan, as if someone was moving from a spot that had been midly uncomfortable. Over the lip of the desk, a hand appeared, and it grasped the desk. Malcador's striking visage, now looking like he spent the night on the floor, rose into view. He was still rather good looking, but his mane of hair was disheveled, with bits of paper in it.

"Well, that was rather more recalcitrant than I initially imagined, but..." He spied the ring, now perfectly glinting in the light. He blinked, his grey eyes catching the small serpents etched upon it. He didn't remember adding that to the ritual, and if Emmaline's magic had without her will, it could very well have been the work of something beyond their world. A daemon, worst case scenario. As rare as it was after being trained, there was always the possibility of a mage being possessed and used as a window for daemons to work their mischief and even violence. He doubted a god would take notice on their work here but... who knows? 

He grunted and lifted himself up, dusting off his robes. Damn, his best elventhread ruined, at least until he could get them properly washed. He'd have to change into his older, more crimson robes of common weave. He glided over to the central table, somehow still smooth of looks and gait despite his unkempt appearance. Carefully, the handsome sorcerer picked up the ring, and immediately felt a small burden. It wasn't that they had increased the mass of it, but there was a weight to its spirit only a mage could sense. Still, it wasn't unpleasant. Like the weight of a gilded belt before you placed it on, seemingly nonexistent once worn. 

Briefly he wondered about the wisdom of presenting it for inspection. The spellcasting had been somewhat obstructed. There was no telling what side effects it would have, but he knew, the way she had looked at it, it was going to have to do. 

He strolled over, and then lowered himself to a knee, not worrying about scuffing the robes any longer. "T'was unorthodox, but I think we have a winner," he said, gingerly taking her hand and sliding the ring into her finger. The band glinted brighter, as if ensconced by an inner flame for a brief moment. He gave her a surreptitious wink, not letting go of her hand, rubbing with his thumb. "Hmmm, it needs a flashy name. We want it to be mysterious, and something good... how about the Chrysos Aurea? It's sexy, sleek yet bounteous, commands attention. They say an item always resembles its creator, after all. Yes, it suits you perfectly." 

He gave her a wolfish grin, sly but hungry. But then his eyes went past her shoulder, and he saw the sun beginning to set out of the distant window. His look turned to resigned frustration. "Ugh, if I stay my friends will throw me into the reik." He began to rise again.