Dorian's wearing thin by this point but he's determined and he'll continue in his practiced flourish to try and cast his magic. The style is almost like a dance, looking almost a little more elegant without the use of a staff or a book in his hands. He knows he has the timing right, he knows he's whispered the right words, his focus is laser sharp and the only thing waning is his energy, feeling physically tired. It should work.
There's an illuminated circle of glyphs and runes at a point, safely away from him and when he flicks his wrist after finishing his tutting he's expecting it to sort of "lock" into place there. However, it backfires spectacularly and instead of arching out away from him, it detonates practically in his face with a spray of sharp ice and a cloud of cold.
There's a yelp as he staggers back, coughing, arms up, coated in a layer of ice that's thick around his wrists and arms above the elbow, but thins out across his chest and shoulders, splashing a bit over his waist and thighs. He managed to save his face, all except for a small cut on his cheek and brow.
The ice breaks easily as he shakes it off, so he's lucky in this instance that the power behind it wasn't what it was supposed to be. He's stood brushing off the frost from his person and frowning, cursing under his breath in Tevene. He ruffles a hand through his hair to fluff the last of the snowy frost out of it and set his quaff back into place. It's only about then he's realized someone saw that spectacular mess.
"Indeed, it certainly seems that way." He grumbles, eying the stranger, "I'm just glad it didn't do harm to you instead."
He finishes 'dusting' himself off and raises a hand to his cheek, touching the small cut with a hiss. He's a little winded as well, and what sweat was on his brow has been frozen off at this point, but he's aching and tired.
"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting another Mage as of yet. The name is Dorian Pavus." He looks... strikingly familiar to another fellow he met the other day, but the accent is a little different.
No worries! <3
There's an illuminated circle of glyphs and runes at a point, safely away from him and when he flicks his wrist after finishing his tutting he's expecting it to sort of "lock" into place there. However, it backfires spectacularly and instead of arching out away from him, it detonates practically in his face with a spray of sharp ice and a cloud of cold.
There's a yelp as he staggers back, coughing, arms up, coated in a layer of ice that's thick around his wrists and arms above the elbow, but thins out across his chest and shoulders, splashing a bit over his waist and thighs. He managed to save his face, all except for a small cut on his cheek and brow.
The ice breaks easily as he shakes it off, so he's lucky in this instance that the power behind it wasn't what it was supposed to be. He's stood brushing off the frost from his person and frowning, cursing under his breath in Tevene. He ruffles a hand through his hair to fluff the last of the snowy frost out of it and set his quaff back into place. It's only about then he's realized someone saw that spectacular mess.
"Indeed, it certainly seems that way." He grumbles, eying the stranger, "I'm just glad it didn't do harm to you instead."
He finishes 'dusting' himself off and raises a hand to his cheek, touching the small cut with a hiss. He's a little winded as well, and what sweat was on his brow has been frozen off at this point, but he's aching and tired.
"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting another Mage as of yet. The name is Dorian Pavus." He looks... strikingly familiar to another fellow he met the other day, but the accent is a little different.