"I wanted to mimic an electric eel," Solomon said deadpan. "I thought maybe it would help me communicate with Deuce's."
Skulduggery had no idea what he'd been talking about. Solomon could tell by the dust on his panes. It amused him. It would have amused him more if he'd known exactly what he'd done himself, but he could at least figure it out. He'd just been trying to blind Sanguine, but that energy he'd thrown at him had truly hurt him.
Like looking at Gabriel had hurt Solomon.
He refused to explain until they were out of the office and somewhere more private, because the very last thing he wanted was his exact abilities to become common knowledge. So in spite of Erskine's annoyance, he answered with nothing but quips until they were down the hall in Corrival's office and the door was closed.
"Alright, Wreath, talk," Corrival said gruffly, and Solomon heard a rustle of a coat being taken off. "I walk into the Sanctuary to find out someone's been screaming and you've apparently vanished. I haven't even sat down yet. Which I'm going to do right now, by the way."
Judging by the creak of his chair, he did, and Solomon's mouth quirked. At least the man had gotten another chair; it meant Solomon could sit too until Kenspeckle--or whoever they were calling in--had arrived to tend his hand.
"I can manipulate the lifestream," he said simply. "I was only trying to blind him, but apparently ..." He hesitated. How was he meant to explain this? 'Apparently I can throw holy magic?' He wasn't sure how or why he had even done it himself, except that that's the only thing he could think it would be.
"Apparently what I was throwing at him was rather more ... divine ... in magical nature than I was expecting. He got my hands pinned at the door, though, so I just tried to metaphysically push him away." A beat, before he realised he should probably explain that. "With my soul. If his soul can make me want to be sick, I figured mine might be able to hurt him back."
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Skulduggery had no idea what he'd been talking about. Solomon could tell by the dust on his panes. It amused him. It would have amused him more if he'd known exactly what he'd done himself, but he could at least figure it out. He'd just been trying to blind Sanguine, but that energy he'd thrown at him had truly hurt him.
Like looking at Gabriel had hurt Solomon.
He refused to explain until they were out of the office and somewhere more private, because the very last thing he wanted was his exact abilities to become common knowledge. So in spite of Erskine's annoyance, he answered with nothing but quips until they were down the hall in Corrival's office and the door was closed.
"Alright, Wreath, talk," Corrival said gruffly, and Solomon heard a rustle of a coat being taken off. "I walk into the Sanctuary to find out someone's been screaming and you've apparently vanished. I haven't even sat down yet. Which I'm going to do right now, by the way."
Judging by the creak of his chair, he did, and Solomon's mouth quirked. At least the man had gotten another chair; it meant Solomon could sit too until Kenspeckle--or whoever they were calling in--had arrived to tend his hand.
"I can manipulate the lifestream," he said simply. "I was only trying to blind him, but apparently ..." He hesitated. How was he meant to explain this? 'Apparently I can throw holy magic?' He wasn't sure how or why he had even done it himself, except that that's the only thing he could think it would be.
"Apparently what I was throwing at him was rather more ... divine ... in magical nature than I was expecting. He got my hands pinned at the door, though, so I just tried to metaphysically push him away." A beat, before he realised he should probably explain that. "With my soul. If his soul can make me want to be sick, I figured mine might be able to hurt him back."