He sleeps for many, many, many hours.
"Oh, look at that, that'll be tricky," hums Vetareh thoughtfully. "Can't disrupt it without damaging everything else, and even if we did, even just the residue doesn't look like it'd be easily processed by our systems. That'd need to be extracted, probably after finding someone that can shield it so as to cut down on the fallout. Do monks that specialize in protection and enchantment magic still exist?"
"Okay! James, do you have any guardian friends who are one or both of; a longtime friend that would know your magical signature extremely well, or an expert in very very tricky and incredibly niche theories about personal magical auras? Possibly this can more easily solved with modern equipment, so please feel free to tell me if I'm wasting everyone's time, Elodir, but I'm thinking of how I would solve this problem if it were two hundred and something years ago."
"Commander, please," pleads the sylvari, causing James to laugh.
"I told you, she will have to be the one to decide whether to join up." To Vetareh: "I unfortunately do not have any such friends."
"Oh! Right, no, you need, er, okay, so, here." Elodir turns back to the screen. "I think it should be possible to do something simpler than that if you find samples of the original magic - Bloodstone magic, probably, of the right kind. I'm not entirely sure yet how but I think we should be able to... use it... to separate your magic from its magic more cleanly."
"Ooooo, trying to draw it out by tempting it with more of itself to consolidate with! I like it. And if we do it right, it'd work with both of us at the same time, which would be very tidy. But the new ball of magic will probably come alive and try to kill us, since that would be the most likely reaction even if it didn't start out trying to kill us. Which it did. So we'd need something to shield the people present once we killed it again. Otherwise we might get caught in a loop of killing it, redistributing the maddening magic around upon its death, and reforming it to get it off of its latest victims. Just to kill it and start the whole thing over again, hopping that after enough rounds it'll be dispersed enough that we can all finally move on with our lives. But this is an excellent idea, I like it very much."
"Well don't look at me, I was terribly charmed by the secret pass codes. He was the one that was all, 'You should be responsible and meet all of your options before permanently picking one'..."
"Far be it from me to stop you from doing the irresponsible thing if that is your wish."
"Joining the Order of Whispers does mean I get to tease all of the nerds in the big fancy nerd organization about my ancient magical knowledge. Which sounds very fun. And it'd mean more control over what ancient magical knowledge gets released versus what gets leveraged to my benefit. Resurrection signets and the like I'd want to freely release to the world, but I'm pretty sure that a lot of what I know could potentially be very dangerous when combined with modern advances, and I don't even know where they might be. If I joined the Order of Whispers would every secret I know then belong to the Order and need to be guarded with quite as much zeal as other Order secrets? Or would it be up to my own whims?"
"Hmm. Then it will probably have to wait until I can interrogate a person specialized in recruiting instead of research. Sorry."
Vetareh laughs. “Sure, okay. But I think I will still compare to the Priory now that I’m actually being responsible and negotiating properly, so we should probably solve this problem first. Since negotiations take a while and are unscientific and barely about magic at all.”
"We were! And then I started again. Mesmer, sorry, I live to trip people up." She winks.
Vetareh smiles innocently.
"So! We need to go collect bloodstone magic, preferably in that cave where we fought the thing originally. Do you have any recommendations for collection apparati?"
Boy oh boy does he! He runs off, and James laughs. "He sure is something."
"He is! He's very cute."
"Very competent, too."
"Very!" She pauses, then she squints at James. Thoughtfully.
"... James. Are you plotting?"
"Plotting what?" he asks, perhaps a bit too innocently.
"I don't know, but you are, I see it in your face! What are you plotting, tell me, I'll figure it out anyway and telling me will just save time."
"But it will be much less fun."
"Admittedly yes," she acknowledges.