As she attempts to touch it, Kettara's hands pass right through, accompanied by a tingling sensation akin to a sleeping limb. It's nothing shocking or too alarming -- not nearly as alarming as someone's hands coming through the barrier to begin with. Thankfully, Carlisle has had time to get used to people just coming up and attempting to see how sturdy his magical dome is, placing a hand -- or their face, or their rear end in one case -- upon it to see if it would hold their weight.

It doesn't, of course. It's not made for that. Though not nearly as large as the one around his garden in the park, the one here at his house has all the same qualities, right down to the semi-opaque nature of the dome's curved wall -- all the plants and the house itself appear from the outside as only vague shapes, and within the dome, all beyond it are but shadowy silhouettes, unfortunately indistinguishable from one another. The shape he spies is too short to be Glacius. Perhaps it is Poison, he thinks, coming to investigate his latest work -- she is quite good at sniffing him out, somehow. Maybe it's a neighbor, or an obnoxious elf. The voice he hears tells him his visitor is none of those, so he heads over to give an explanation. He is rather proud of his ingenuity, after all.

"This," he says as he steps through the translucent, magical wall, "is an abjura..."

However prepared Carlisle may have thought himself, he couldn't have been ready to find himself face-to-face with an Orc, his expression immediately shifting somewhere between alarm and awe. He's not sure if he should be honored or afraid.

"R- ration. Abjuration wa- what are- I'm sorry, I." A nervous smile curls one corner of his mouth. "I've never met one of your, um. Kind? Any of the bestial peoples, actually."