The grand ball

[Sören]

"Fortunately, I don't think I fit the criteria." Ephraim's devil-may-care grin was not an endearment. It was a feckless decision, but Sören only shrugged. He was correct, but it hardly made him safe. Perhaps if he could have felt the raging maelstrom of power swelling the hall like escaped voltage he would have been more sensible. Worse than stupidity at a mindful distance, though, Ephraim proceeded to be roused by a nearby woman's cry for help. Eyes wide, he rushed to her aid, apparently ignorant to the fact that moments before everyone within that perimeter had been swept from their feet. 

Unimpressed by the complication, Sören stalked after him. 

"Fascinating. It can't just be pain. We've documented extreme reactions to stress. Anecdotally, of course. So what's stopping him?" He knelt by the Consul, eyes bright, as though the man were nothing more than an experiment splayed out on a table. Sören stared down at the woman. 

"If you are able to channel--"

"Channel what? Power is so vague a term. It needs a more marketable name." 

Ephraim's murmurings to himself buzzed like annoyance. Sören's lips twisted into a frown. "--If you are able to channel, the first creature appears to have been made vulnerable by freezing it. If not, I suggest you look for a fire extinguisher."