Out of path improv spells, 
Stepping out of the tent the haze lessens if only slightly enough that the mages can feel a breathe of relief as the unseen awareness they have gotten so used to since awakening returns to proper order. They do indeed spot the ring master having returned from who knows where to continue his rotund, flamboyant and enthusiastic stories of local legends, horrors in the dark and the life life nature of the exhibits within the tents.
Within in the tent the youths scoff and laugh at the former EMT's attempt to be grounded and responsible they have a weapon, they have numbers and they sure have a sense of undeserved entitled ego. But none of this is the primary concern of the mage as the knife flashes not silver but lightless, not black but utterly devoid of colour the youths don't seem to notice it nor the haze taking on a thicker almost chocking atmosphere with in the tent, a voice utters in speech that makes the ears feel like they should fold in on themselves in protest, that blood should pour from the eyes and things should be twisted and contorting in impossible ways around him. This the youths hear if they don't understand it. It is not a language the arrow speaks but inflections meaning is garnered a gut wrenching familiarity to it like something so very familiar but scrambled and churned till its almost unrecognisable. Before whatever speaks switches to English speaking only into his mind.As the gnosis + resolve roll was not rolled the effect simply happens
"So do I see a bright spark in the gloom of this banality, greetings inheritor of Atlantis, have you come to find me?" The voice sounds bored, pained, wistful and totally void of all simultaneously above all each word is like a rock within his head that falls disturbing the lake of thoughts sending discordant ripples of unease through every fibre of his being.
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Striking looks
Presence
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