Rifter looked around dorm room. It looked right. He looked back to the yellowing pages in his hands. If he had translated it right, and he liked to think that he had, everything was in place.

Stepping out of the circle and square he began lighting the incense. It was quite a feat, actually, considering there was near no room at all in his small abode. His bed and dresser had already been pushed to the side and still the circle and square of chalk looked to be a bit cramped. As he lit the last stick of incense he spoke the words needed, "With this incense...I uh...I demonstrate my peaceful intentions." He stumbled only because some of the ink of the old page was slightly smudged, so he wasn't certain it was demonstrate or...Well it's better left unsaid. He then stood infront of the circle, his back to the door. The smell of the burning incense was stifling, but he managed to ignore it.

He then placed an old spellbook in to the square. It was very dear to him, this book. It was what had first led him to discovery magery. He smiled softly as he saw it, before saying the needed words and continuing with the summoning. He opened another blank book, a pen placed behind his ear. "Um...With this book I open the divine channels of communication. Apoth, God of knowledge, grace me with your omniscience!" He shouted, looking around the small smokey dorm room.

"Please?..."

(( Reserved for Hat n' Jack. Jack n' Hat. Say it out loud, it's fun...))

Fenrir is solid, mainly because he's not sure what would happen were Rifter to accidentally cast him into the circle. He's sitting on the shoved-aside bed, his arms around his legs and his head rested on his knees. His eyes, black from corner to corner, watch his master work unwaveringly.

He's trying not to interfere, but he's curious about the spell-- and if it will work.

The incense flared, and suddenly there he was. The god was standing inside the cirle, glaring about. He didn't really like to be summoned away from whatever it was he did.

There was a crackle and a flash of oddly colored light, the writing on the paper extremely neat and precise, the same color as the flash of light.

What do you want? came the question, the figure of the god crossing his arms and looking greatly impatient.

Rifter's jaw dropped as the God appeared, simply staring at him without knowing that he was already being asked a question. Eventually he got a hold of himself and looked down at the blank book. "Uh...um..." Was all he said as he tried to remember exactly what it was he was going to ask. He looked over at Fenrir, half in excitement that it had worked, and half out of dread because it had worked.

The dark-eyes shadow servant grins and gestures for his sell-shocked master to pick up the pen.

"Well, go on," he says, "Don't keep Him waiting. He might smite you."

Too bad Apoth can't respond to that which isn't written in The Book, or he would have agreed with the shadow.

Did you have a question, or did you just summon me for my beauty? Somehow, the words on the page gave off a tone of sarcasm. It was almost as if they had been spoken.

Rifter nodded to Fen's slightly skewed version of encouraging him. He then looked down at laughed a little lightly at the remark made by the God. He wasn't certain if the God could hear him laugh, but he could probably see him. "No, I wasn't laughing at you. It's just that I didn't summon you for your beauty-- Not that you aren't beautiful! Um..." He knew he was making an arse of himself. He nodded respectfully to the God before taking the pen from behind his ear and writing in the open blank book. Underneath the God's script he wrote his request neatly. He repeated it out loud.

"I need to know how to reverse a certain spell."

Fenrir slides off the bed, his black jeans and black T-shirt making whispering noises against the cloth of the bedsheets. He's silent as he moves across the floor, as shadows usually are.

The servant leans his elbows on one of Rifter's shoulders, reading over it.

"Make sure he doesn't tell you to unmake me," he says, sounding a bit nervous. He trusts Rifter, but not necessarily this God.

What spell? the words crackle onto the paper, fading out in reverse. Fading in.

Back behind the circle, Apoth looked at the two of them. You mean that shadow?

Rifter glances over at Fen for a moment before nodding. He was about to write this down when he read the God's words. Wow...He really did know all. He wrote again.

'Yes, the shadow, Fenrir. We want to seperate our connections, but not to unmake Fenrir.' He looked back up at the God after writing down his response, hoping for some help of some sort.

"Yes, let's not unmake Fenrir. Fenrir likes being made."

Fenrir likes being made a lot more than something traditionally inanimate should.

He glances nervously at the god, wondering what would happen to him if Rifter were smote, and then smacking himself for the disloyal thought.

Ok, let me get this straight: you want to be rid of your shadow? The figure of the god was doubled over in laughter, but there was no sound.

Oh, that's rich. That really is.

Rifter's eyebrows puckered as he watched the God laugh at him. He was just about ready to snap the book shut, when the thought of the goal came back to him. When he wrote, it was a bit more aggressively.

'Yes, I want to be rid of him, but not to unmake him. As you can see, he's not exactly just a shadow. We want to be seperated. Is it too rich for you?'

"Here, Rifter, let me try."

Reaching in over his master's shoulder, Fenrir drags a finger over the blank pages of the book. Black ink, like shadows, lays itself down on the paper.

Rifter created me as a mindless servant, he writes. But the spell went wrong and I became a person. Now he's stuck with a sentient shadow.

To be honest, Fenrir doesn't mind being 'stuck' with Rifter, anymore than a dog minds its owner, but he can respect Rifter wanting his privacy back, so to speak.

You cannot be separated from your shadow any more than I can pass the boundaries here. As if to demonstrate, the god pressed a palm to the side of the circle, leaning against it.

I can, however, help you to undo it. The shadow would be just that again, a shadow.

Rifter read all of this quietly, looking up at the God only momentarilly before taking his pen back and writing some more.

'Is there no way we can seperate without Fenrir leaving altogether?'

"Without killing me, you mean."

Is that a hint of bitterness? If so, it's only a hint-- Fen has never been much of a one for bitterness.

He's staring at the god now, his eyes as dark as ever... and pleading.

The god knocked on the barrier, a sharp knock-on-wood sound emanating from the spot. Whether it was the barrier or something of his making it's really clear or important. It's another demonstration.

See? Barrier? I can't pass it. He was reiterating his earlier statement. Be more specific in what you want to know.

Rifter sighs softly and watches the God knock on the barrier. He glanced over at Fen, wondering exactly what was going on in the shadow's mind, but unfortunately their connection didn't pull that far. His eyes reverted back to the somewhat taunting god before answering.

'Is there a way to sever the ties that connect our senses?' He wrote, looking back up at the God and waiting.

It would have been interesting, had the god been able to speak directly with the pair. Undoubtedly Fenrir would have offered up some random unneeded information, such as 'Rifter doesn't like it when he can feel me get drunk,' or worse. As it is, Fen keeps his comments to himself, as he's not about to go to the trouble of writing them down.

Well, you'd get three and it would get two. Unless you want to have two and it get three? I mean, it is your choice. He really was getting back into the godly groove.

Or you could go a four-one split, but that wouldn't be very fair. Oh, how about two and a half? Maybe a working ear for each of you?