Issei's magic is warm and solid. A warm pudding, almost, though Lancer's would be more savory, smells more savory, and Issei's is all flowers and dust. Lancer would be delicious delicious delicious a meal of magic that would fill him up fill him and fill him and focus.

He pulls off a strand of Issei's magic and threads it into Lancer's. Issei's magic is a deep blue like the ocean and gold and winds into Lancer's magic, growing roots and feeding new energy into his shell.

He keeps his focus until he's sure the connection is stable, then shudders and falls on his face on Lancer's shins.

"That should do it. Oof, I'll never get used to that. You can let go, Issssei."