Jacques raised an eyebrow at this. The urn itself was nothing spectacular, although now that he scrutinized it, it seemed to have tiny cracks in a latticework all across its surface. A barely perceptible green glow, of the hue indicative of so much of changeling magic, pulsed through the cracks as Quartz breathed the air within. Each breath seemed to make him more relaxed, less… well, he should rather say more strong, more sure of himself. How very strange.