[Suzerain of Sheol]

Sometime later, Emilie awakens with a yawn and pounding headache, but that's no matter, she has Vicodin. Rubbing her eyes, she sits up to see Rupert standing totally motionless over the best damned summoning circle she's ever seen, which says precisely nothing, but she sure is impressed with it. She should... probably... do the ritual before medicating.

Hopping up from the bed, Emilie goes to grab the catalyst, before realizing with a dismay she has no energy to appreciate that she can't remember where she put it. "Ruuuupes," she whines over her shoulder, "did you happen to see where-- oh. Cool, thanks bud." She accepts the cheap plastic dvd case from his outstretched hand and retrieves the disc of die Schwan Prinzessin, inspecting it lazily before determining with no metric whatsoever that it looks serviceable. She hands it back to her skeleton. "Do the honors for me, pal?" His silent dignity nearly brings a tear to her eye... or that's the withdrawal, but whatever.

Rupert places the disc in the precise center of his circle, and Emilie gets herself psyched up. "All right, Rupes, you ready for this ghetto-ass ritual? Hold onto your teeth, bro." He gives her no discernible reaction, and encouraged by his support, she begins the incantation, which may be in some ancient dead language, or is quite possibly total nonsense she's making up on the spot. Regardless, though, her mage crest alights in brilliant green, shining through her clothes and from her exposed skin, nearly her entire body inscribed with necromantic glyphs. She can see herself in the mirror across the room, the tiny runes covering her eyeballs making them glow like she's some kind of wraith. Badass.

"How did it go again? Guardian of the scales, evil in the world, blah blah blah, I want to get hiiiiiigh, spirit of madness, I need a Servant, fuck this headache, abracadabra!"