As Mistral set about increasing her number of wards on the ship, Grey approached her. "Will you teach me that?"

 She points at the ward Mistral is making.

Mistral walked along the outer rails of the S.S. Grey’s decks, weaving an arcane perimeter as the last breaths of the tempest blustered around her.  She was intently focused on constructing the wards with new occultation formulae, and so only distractedly noticed Grey’s approach.  With an expansive arcing sweep of the hands Mistral draped a vast wall of wards extending beyond the starboard side of the ship and out over the sea.  Having completed that section, she turned to Grey and asked curiously, “Bonjour, mademoiselle Grey.  You can see the wards?  They should be indiscernable except to all those with keenest understanding of the illusion of space.”  She traced a finger along one of the larger structural threads woven of tiny multi-dimensional supernal glyphs, watching Grey to see if she could see it.  Seeing that she did, Mistral gave the elfin godling an enigmatic smile and explained, “This is a ‘Warp’ thread, the structure about which the ward is constructed.  These smaller threads laced between are the ‘Weft’ threads, which carry across and bind the spatial stabilization...”

Mistral went on to attempt to explain and demonstrate the process of ward-crafting step by step, but had some difficulty putting to words concepts that she had only ever dealt with herself on a purely abstract level.  She was better able to show than to tell, though she couldn’t be sure how much of the work Grey was able to decipher.  She tried not to think of the possible repercussions of a creature of unlimited creative power also having the ability to transcend the spatial limitations.

After some time in this curious tutelage, Mistral asked Grey.  “Do you know how you came to be in this world, mademoiselle?  I was told that your arrival coincided with a notable meteor impact event a decade past...”

 Grey reaches out and actually physically touches your ward... which should, by all definitions, be impossible... and begins to strum at the threads like one would play a harp. "It's like a soap bubble."

 Grey put her finger to her chin while absently strumming at the ward and the sensory information you were getting about the interference actually felt like music somehow.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PuoLTYeVcno

 Despite the storm raging around you, it was relaxing in a mystical sort of way.


 "Yeah, Father got really angry about that and told me I couldn't throw rocks anymore. Then he took out my soul and I went to sleep. When I woke up, I had attached myself to Noah."

Once again Mistral had cause to be amazed by Grey performing a new kind of impossibility.  She had to simply stop for a time and listen to the strains of mystical music singing through the storm like an otherworldly harp.  Mistral found herself smiling despite herself and nodded, “An apt analogy... As for this, I am fairly certain you have just invented a new forme de musique.  It is quite beautiful.”  She reached for the arcane strands thrumming with supernal melodies they’d never been designed to carry, tweaking their composition just slightly here and there to tune in a clearer resonance.  The magess knelt next to Grey, put a hand on her little metallic shoulder and asked, “Now I am your student, mademoiselle.  Will you teach me how to make this music of the wards?”

Mistral was quiet for a time when Grey described in her child-like way the causing of the cataclysm that led to the conflux of the supernal realms.  Her jaw worked as she mulled this over.  At length she said, “These rocks opened spontaneous rifts around le monde to the realms Supernal... one of these occurred in une ville by the name of Saint-Étienne.  Just a small area of a few square kilometers, perhaps.  A single neighborhood, really.”  She stared out over the sea toward a black thunderhead on the horizon, then added quietly, “It was my awakening.”