Shin likewise stepped closer, hands glowing with magic force, Inspecting the Tear closer to see if he could add anything to the debate and concern of the Tear's eating away at the Warding Magic and the world around it. (Craftsman: Sage , Craftsman: Void Lore (auto-corrected..) perhaps?)
Shin looked to Bavaikas, curious to hear the Young Dragon's insight.
Bavaikas is clearly uncomfortable-- the faint pattern of golden scales creeping up their neck is just visible from behind their scarf. Their posture is tense as they approach the tear, gaze transfixed at the thing's inky, swirling center.
"I... we could attempt the overstitching again, as we did last time... but I doubt it will last. It is an unsustainable solution." Their jaw tenses, and they narrow their eyes. When they speak again, their voice is much softer, only perceptible to those very near them. "It's getting much worse."
Illahee steps up next to the Celestial Dragon, gazing at the Void Tear. Her eyes are glowing faintly and her expression is inhuman. As she stands there going as still as an ancient oak, her feet almost seem to sink into the ground slightly. You get the sense that she is taking root. After just a moment, though, she hisses and jerks a step to the side. Her motions are stiff, stilted. She stands still again, focuses on the Void for a second time, but does not seem able to attain the stillness that she had been attempting earlier.
"Not definitively. I could only make a vague estimation, and even then, there is no telling if that would be accurate."
"Last time, we channeled the collective power of all the magic gathered here... and I used it to stitch along the border, with the help of my sibling's Mage. It was an enormous undertaking." There is a shadow of doubt on their face as they recall the process of the overstitching.
"The land... Writhes beneath me." Illahee's voice is tinged with frost, "Those tendrils, are not just reaching as far as is visible, they dig deep into Aer'Astrea. They pollute to a larger degree than even I had feared." After this statement, made to no one in particular, the Spirit goes silent again. Her eyes close and her arms extend slightly, fingers splayed open.
It's unclear exactly when Jonathan joined the party.
"Are these tennnnndrils something wwwwwe could deal wwwwwith onnnnnnn an innnnndivvvidual basis while wwwwwwe figure out a wwwwwway to close the tear ennnnnntirely?"
Illahee, pulls out of a deep trance, blinking slowly and deliberately before turning to the Dragons. She speaks, her voice sounding rough but steady.
"If we cut them, they'll bleed into this reality's fabric, like spilling a cup of water. That would be less than ideal. Perhaps we could turn them back in on themselves? It is going to be a lot like putting a digit over one hole in a colander. We may have enough between us, but after a while it will still be inadequate."
For the first time since passing through the gates of the protective wall, Bavaikas drags their eyes away from the center of the tear, now looking at the aforementioned tendrils. Their brow furrows at Durnic's words.
"That sounds... inadvisable. At the bare minimum."
Plue has not contributed to the discussion of magical theory. She follows along as best she can, while standing guard against any incursions from the tear.
When Durnic speaks, she blanches, going paler at the thought of another True Empowered Planar Asylum than she does at the prospect of the Void itself.