She found what she wanted. An age-worn statue of a woman in a toga, holding a large urn. Focusing on it, she pushed.
Interesting choice of verb there. I like it. It implies a sense of weight, of inertia, like the object is resisting her influence with its “mass”, “trying” to stay in its place, in its world.
It was agonizing. Not the use of her power – that was easy, unavoidable. Even on a good day like today, her power worked without her asking for it. The floor under her feet was turning into a stone tile, grass and moss growing in the cracks, as if the ruins were leaking into the real world. It was agonizing because the emergence of the statue was slow.
Yeah, like this.
Brick folded out of the way as it appeared from within the outside wall of Palanquin. It slid forth at a glacial pace of a quarter-inch every second, and it wasn’t small.
Okay yeah that’s very slow.
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