[hr][hr][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/01989755-dcbb-757d-abd0-fb53f7f9c333.webp[/img][hr][COLOR=9A5B8A]Location:[/color] the Library
[COLOR=9A5B8A]Grimoire:[/color] N/A
[COLOR=9A5B8A]Skills:[/color] N/A
[COLOR=9A5B8A]Wild Magic Build Up:[/color] triggers on a 1 or 2
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Croan slapped Jake’s hand.

For a moment, he didn’t react. He just stared. Had that really happened? His gaze shifted, as he stared at the professor wordlessly. His jaw shifted. He was otherwise completely still, studying him. And then he broke into a smile, and removed his hand with a delayed flinch. 

He tilted his head as Croan asked him to think. He’d only just learned what a curse was the previous night. Curses were cold things, cruel things - his mind flashed unbidden to the sensation of feet pressed on his back, his face struggling to contain swelling pressure. He shuddered again. And this statue… it had pulled at Barty’s magic, a description that raised his hackles, but he hadn’t said it was cold. He said it was light - that it was like the sky - Jake loved the sky. It couldn’t have been a curse, then. 

If anything… the more he looked at the statue, the more it felt strangely familiar… The words were lost to him. It was just something he knew, something he couldn’t explain, but something he had forgotten all the same. His eyebrows furrowed, he turned to look at Connie and Barty, rather than Croan.[COLOR=9A5B8A] “It’s hungry,”[/color] he said softly. [COLOR=9A5B8A]“It needs more magic…”[/color]

And then, moving almost as if in a dreamlike trance, Jake removed his glove and pressed his hand to the statue. The very hand Croan had slapped away moments before. He didn’t know how much magic he had to give, but he gave it anyway.

The sensation took his breath away. 

It was deep and old - powerful, almost endless magic. It was mesmerizing in its intensity, even as he felt the undercurrent of need. It wanted to consume him. It was what it had been made to do. His heart broke. Tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. It didn’t have a choice. And it wasn’t cold. It was warm and bright - [i]it was love[/i]. Love and… and something that made his skin feel like it was crying, like he was being crushed under some weight, like he was running without escape. [i]Desperation.[/i] That was the word. 

It wasn’t a curse at all. Jake didn’t know the word for what it was. But it was for protection - for keeping someone safe. And deep within the stone, there was someone [i]alive[/i]. 

[COLOR=9A5B8A]“He’s alive!”[/color] Jake pleaded, as if that would somehow - somehow make this stop. Whatever this was. [COLOR=9A5B8A]“Can he hear us?”[/color] Could they hear him - communicate with him somehow? His mind darted to the token Nicholas had given him. Could Nicholas communicate with people who could not speak? [COLOR=9A5B8A]“This is supposed to protect people - who did this? Why?”[/color] This he directed to Croan, almost as an accusation.