Angelika is...pretty deeply checked out at this point. She's lost in the sauce of a multi-sensory illusion, while also excluding the entire hall from it. But her lips move in a chant, even as her hands stay glued to the scroll. Near the walls, the barely audible screams and shouts are replaced slowly by imperialistic preaching, a sermon beginning. On sinfulness and knowing your place.

She wishes she could speak up-but all her attention has to go into maintaining a spell-work this complex and she can't let it flag, even as sweat begins to come out of her pores once again.