A hurricane of agitated essence slammed against the glowing spatial barrier at the edges of the Astral Exclave, with enough force to make the stitched together reality ripple. Elua sprinted frantically along this dangerous perimeter, carrying four dozen posts actively being tuned for Spatial anchoring to prevent further disaster. Weaving the sigils using her patented sliver of raw essence and stressing her field with so much 'weight' set in Adhesion, her Breacher breakthrough in that energy was turning out to be what she usually referred to in hindsight as a *bad idea*.
She hadn't spoken a word since she'd uttered a terrible curse in the Old Tongue as self-deprecation ten minutes before she slammed down the first sigil post. Not even to Madrigil, who happened to look quite fascinated at the cataclysm upon them when she rushed by in the tornadic winds to the construction storage zone. The brunette simply didn't have the time to spare to answer his fluid dynamic questions!
