The arrangement Ellis has made of wood and kindling is nothing in need of adjustment, a cursory handling that's more habit than an anything else.
Rather than simply summon flame as he might for the end of his cigarette, there is a moment of focus, one hand hovered over the gathering of dry wood and the other weaving a subtle pattern until that pattern writes faint lines of runic glow in the air. A gesture lays those down onto the wood, where they burn black lines into it, sending up fine ribbons of smoke.
A slight leaning back, and flame bursts forth, getting its teeth into the wood like a well tended fire should.
Gold and orange light to see by, now, rather than the distant silver. Rain water has made Marcus' hair near-black, a few loose strands that have escaped his tie now plastered to his face, still damp and shining. He rocks back to sit, firelight picking up brightly in the slightly gold-tinted breastplate nestled amongst the leather and fur.
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Rather than simply summon flame as he might for the end of his cigarette, there is a moment of focus, one hand hovered over the gathering of dry wood and the other weaving a subtle pattern until that pattern writes faint lines of runic glow in the air. A gesture lays those down onto the wood, where they burn black lines into it, sending up fine ribbons of smoke.
A slight leaning back, and flame bursts forth, getting its teeth into the wood like a well tended fire should.
Gold and orange light to see by, now, rather than the distant silver. Rain water has made Marcus' hair near-black, a few loose strands that have escaped his tie now plastered to his face, still damp and shining. He rocks back to sit, firelight picking up brightly in the slightly gold-tinted breastplate nestled amongst the leather and fur.
A glance over. Wry. Isn't this fun.