The device she held looked like the one the Elder used and he sensed they held some kind of connection, though for what end he could not fathom but it seemed the device gave aid to the woman - the witch, he was assuming. His assumption was confirmed a moment later when she drew out a wand, a rather strange looking wand but clearly a wand. The runes shimmered to life before him and it only took a second to read them, his eyebrow arching quickly. His gaze shifted to the woman.
It felt as if every part of his body had grown inexplicably cold all at once. A thousand years. If he was the same Godric Gryffindor that they believed him to be, he was long dead. Circe! Was he dead? Was this the great beyond the priests spoke of? The hex, in the forest, had it killed him? He felt slightly ill at the thought. No wonder this was all so strange. "I... I am dead?" he asked the pretty witch, confusion thick in his voice.
"Stem-ma... no, I fear I cannot recall such a spell, though Rowena has more knowledge of written enchantments. She holds them in great regard," Godric answered honestly, feeling as if there was a pressure upon his chest. Rowena. Oh, his beloved Rowena. He would never see her again. And Helga, sweet, sweet Helga. Even the caustic wit of Salazar he felt a loss for now. The witch was talking again and Godric lifted his hands, slipping his knife free from the clasp on his hip and, with it, he touched the tip to his finger. He held it out to her, worry creasing his forehead. "Aye, I fear I may require some instruction."
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Date: 2013-01-06 10:38 pm (UTC)It felt as if every part of his body had grown inexplicably cold all at once. A thousand years. If he was the same Godric Gryffindor that they believed him to be, he was long dead. Circe! Was he dead? Was this the great beyond the priests spoke of? The hex, in the forest, had it killed him? He felt slightly ill at the thought. No wonder this was all so strange. "I... I am dead?" he asked the pretty witch, confusion thick in his voice.
"Stem-ma... no, I fear I cannot recall such a spell, though Rowena has more knowledge of written enchantments. She holds them in great regard," Godric answered honestly, feeling as if there was a pressure upon his chest. Rowena. Oh, his beloved Rowena. He would never see her again. And Helga, sweet, sweet Helga. Even the caustic wit of Salazar he felt a loss for now. The witch was talking again and Godric lifted his hands, slipping his knife free from the clasp on his hip and, with it, he touched the tip to his finger. He held it out to her, worry creasing his forehead. "Aye, I fear I may require some instruction."