The acoustic limitation… was the first thing the reincarnator would bother to fix.
Approaching the stage, she had seen how cleverly the structure had been built by her mother's people and Qat's residents… to carry Sound through physical properties alone - and how the space for the right rituals to be carved was just there waiting. Mint eyes followed the lines of essence delivery already laid into the stone of the amphitheater, reading the craft of the continent's sigilists the same way she always had done so - unamused.
'Beyond the novelty of it, anyway.'
Being the most efficient she could be within the constraints of matching modern sigil theory, intentionally using present, inferior renditions of things solved thousands and thousands of years ago still took much mental effort to lower herself into. Building whatever she wanted in the Exclave all that time did make her a bit more reluctant to work under this kind of handicap again, but eventually her fingers moved.
