They can find him for the Ritual. Again, no insistence, only information; they aren't barring him, if there's any lingering concern about territory nonsense. (Attached, a small sliver that they can't imagine staying in one place for long even to sleep.)
They melt and stretch around their former arena with far less speed. It has to be somewhere, and if Grimm can't find it, they're sure they will; they're not going to storm around and possibly catch him in them.
They meet him halfway down a wall, plucking the other piece with a similar lack of ceremony.
They stare at the halves.
Now what?
They pull back until they're on flat ground, putting the pieces together and--wrapping a tiny tendril around it, and then slicing through that tendril. It stays solid and keeps the parts in place. Some of it crawls along the crack, pinning them together further.
They push Soul into it, Focus inversed--and while it flares in a glow, nothing else. The crack is still there.
Grimm isn't given so much attention now, other than their pulling the puddling black nearest to him inward first. The Lord of Shades folds and squeezes, smaller, smaller, smaller, curling up into the empty neck hole of their mask--
--and despite their concentration, the holding tendril snaps.
The halves launch across the room. The Lord of Shades bursts back into existence, scrambling gracelessly to catch them before they slam into walls.
Alright. Perhaps they should...go to the Springs and soak them in the water directly. They incline their head in that direction before ignoring the floor and tunneling through the air on the way.
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They melt and stretch around their former arena with far less speed. It has to be somewhere, and if Grimm can't find it, they're sure they will; they're not going to storm around and possibly catch him in them.
They meet him halfway down a wall, plucking the other piece with a similar lack of ceremony.
They stare at the halves.
Now what?
They pull back until they're on flat ground, putting the pieces together and--wrapping a tiny tendril around it, and then slicing through that tendril. It stays solid and keeps the parts in place. Some of it crawls along the crack, pinning them together further.
They push Soul into it, Focus inversed--and while it flares in a glow, nothing else. The crack is still there.
Grimm isn't given so much attention now, other than their pulling the puddling black nearest to him inward first. The Lord of Shades folds and squeezes, smaller, smaller, smaller, curling up into the empty neck hole of their mask--
--and despite their concentration, the holding tendril snaps.
The halves launch across the room. The Lord of Shades bursts back into existence, scrambling gracelessly to catch them before they slam into walls.
Alright. Perhaps they should...go to the Springs and soak them in the water directly. They incline their head in that direction before ignoring the floor and tunneling through the air on the way.