| Welcome to Sekkai Fractures. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| A Chance At; FOR KESS- Hybrid goodness | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 28 2011, 03:29 AM (607 Views) | |
| Seiss | Dec 28 2011, 03:29 AM Post #1 |
|
Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
|
They arrived together, were supposed to be united under a single purpose, but that would be asking for the absurd impossible. They would have been a hive mind if that were the case. She couldn’t shake the sense of being separated from her own kin. It wasn’t in search of company that she dared to descend into the makeshift underground nest belonging to the least... friendly of the entire Council. He was suffering from an ailment so strange... she was curious. He was not quite whole, a living being whose life was draining away unnaturally, by a source that draped over him like a choking, leeching lattice. She never shared his passion for his science, but Keres always had a weakness when faced with the ailing and the wounded. Make right, and set it back onto its natural path. Mara rarely emerged. Soon he might have to, in order to get food. As a courtesy, for she was intruding upon his territory, she brought with her a basket of fruits and deer meat, every piece she personally gathered on her own, and occasionally with Larguz’s help. Unlike some of her Flora kind, she held no abhorrence to hunting live animals. Death was as necessary as life. Excess, however, was not. Their descent- Larguz she was never without- wasn’t overly long, though the downward path was narrow, dark and uninviting. Much like its inhabitant. Larguz led the way, shedding a dim light from his pristinely white, small feline form. Keres didn’t need it, but the Homunculus would argue, fussing over how she stumbled over obstructions despite there being light. The deeper they went, her steps grew more hesitant. She could scent fear, blood and a mixture of bodily fluids. Muffled cries rendered weak... and the unsteady hearts pulsing light as an errant butterfly’s wings. Such ruthlessness. She sighed, pulling up her courage and braving onward to offer her hand to the injured viper that may very well bite her instead. She would heal, though he would remain ailing. Rows and rows of cages, tanks and fragile glass filled her vision in the dim lighting. She didn’t have to look to know that the creatures- some were suffering. The compulsion to reach out was so strong, she weaved a gauzy net of sleep over them all. Even after, her discomfort was apparent, wistfulness lingering in her two toned gaze. It took a second longer... for her to realize that she might have done something... undesirable. “Mara?” she called uncertainly, gaze sweeping the maze of glass and steel in search of the Lightning Hybrid. “I bring you food....” Larguz padded around with fluffy tail high in the air, winding around table legs and other odd obstructions. He was impatient, hardly interested in anything around him or the Hybrid in question for the matter. His mistress sometimes baffled him with her actions- she’d gain nothing from this. Why would she want to potentially cut herself? |
![]() |
|
| CloakAndDagger | Feb 10 2012, 08:41 PM Post #2 |
![]()
THE DUNGEON MASTER
![]()
|
Neither rightly human nor beast, and with intellects and prowess not belonging to anything within comparison, the hybrids were a sole class unto themselves. Lords of all they saw and, with a society seemingly built around order and peace, it would seem reasonable to imagine that a unified need to preserve balance would turn any erring member of their clan towards cohesion, but, just below the surface of the facade, the calm cooperation was an uneasy peace sewn together with taught, thin threads. The tension could have been pulled like a bow string, especially against the repelling force of the sole electric brother. There could be no bridging the gap between hybrid and human when there were such vast distances separating the aloof creatures themselves. However, even as the pale, cold eyed scientist carried himself off to be swathed in solitude and shadow, his connection to the rest drew the attention of, perhaps, the one of his kin most opposite in heart. A daughter of nature, nothing appeared to deter her from her quest down into the depths of murky darkness even as it was readily apparent that her aim to aid Mara would be a gauntlet in itself. The electric elemental, keen to his silence and solitude, had already made a tentative alliance with a would-be lab assistant and his monkey dragon and that was mostly out of stacking the odds of success, or, so he liked to tell himself. Never would he admit it was also out of curiosity to see another researcher like himself, nor would he ever speak of his slowly deepening fear of not finding a cure at all. Since his last major trip to the sun-lit halls above, his ailment had progressed steadily, almost exponentially. The black shade that touched his hands and feet had crawled upward, twisting ominous tendrils toward the crook of his arm and the arch of his knee and his fingers had grown that much darker. Along with that, came the sliding, deadening numbness that frosted his right side limbs. In another week, he wouldn't be able to grasp tighter than a toddler around anything with that hand... and just the idea of it was a bloody injury to his pride. His dominant hand was almost no better than amputated. His dexterity, his essential abilities were being born away by a mystery he could not solve. Were it not for this and for the other symptoms of his disease, he would have made much more progress toward his goal of understanding. However, as it stood, for every moment lost or wasted, he worked that much harder. A tightly coiled serpent, Mara was dangerous in this time of angry frustration. Whew knew what he would do with another distraction. As Dante into hell, the paired creatures of light stepped down and down and down into the shade of the underworld beneath the academy library. The walls rustled with shadow and cobweb lace like a mausoleum, in this case, a monument to a dying search for truth. The world grew colder, more difficult to navigate. The air grew thicker, heavy with the funk of a thousand years. And then, there was the sound. With the nearing of food, of something beyond the iron bars of their cages, the multitudes of pent up lab animals rattled and pined against their captive space. The din only grew louder until, step by perilous step, they came to the ajar entrance to the animal room. Within, the samples of scientific study became that more intent on gnashing their tired teeth. Most were weary just being alive and had no will to bang and shake their chains like the ghosts they were. And yet, in the split of a moment, all the dimly lit world seemed to quiet to a mere rustle of sleep heavy paws and then to some semblance of escapist sleep. Even the larger creatures in the corner, indiscernible in their shadow, grew still. And, in that silence, the kind-hearted Keres called out to the cobra lurking and put forth her offering to his ill-willed manner. Just as her words finished, the acrid snap of ozone filled the air. As it hung and incresingly clouded the smells of the animals, the half-lit room suddenly bristled with brilliant light, as if an enslaved sun had gained a second wind. It was blazing, illuminating every corner, and, what the light could not touch, became that much more black and pitch with spite. Farther in, the main part of the lab began to whirr and come to life. A hive of artificial insects, the meticulously crafted machinery turned and hummed in the synthetic light. "What is this?" The robotic voice cascaded through the sterile air. The irritation was more than palpable, which was out of the ordinary, even for him. "What is the meaning of--" The hybrid, clothed and covered head to toe, came around the corner and stood as a blockade in the doorway. "...oh... it's you." There was no sneer to his resonant words as they were created along the etches of his mask, but there was a thick undertone of displeasure. The filliments above that created the artificial light hummed stronger as they reached full power. His eyes, cold shafts of unbroken light, cast themselves down on his kin, then, her companion. "Food? I don't need food. Can't you see that I'm working." He returned the kind thoughts with hard frost. "What is it you want? We can't possibly be convening again." He searched her with a flick of his sight even as he kept a watchful eye on the creeping homunculus. |
![]() |
|
| Seiss | Mar 5 2012, 08:18 AM Post #3 |
|
Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
|
She knew by scent, recognized the unique tang amidst pungent odour, and her half sight caught the unmistakeable, crescent glow of churning mana at the far end of the gloom. The darkness posed no difficulties for the Crhe. She, like her brethren’s structure, was perhaps closer to the dragons than humans. Ovular pupils dilated, though her lighter eye changed only subtly for plain sight was no longer what it saw anymore. Something else, the familiar electric scent thrumming in the air told her that he was now aware of their entrance. She had learnt to associate the acrid ozone smell to Mara’s foul temper and couldn’t resist stiffening, as if awaiting the crackle of hurt from the strike of electricity. Instead of pain, however, light invaded the darkness in a blinding sweep. Dark pupils shrank and she blinked against the sudden change. The light, however bright felt as hostile as its wielder, heat stinging and the lit particles in the air strung taut through cutting wire. Strange sounds starting within such small, confined space startled the wary Crhe. Breath lodged upon a sharp inhale, she stumbled half a step back, senses heightening as instinct dictated upon the detection of an encroaching threat. Mara had always exuded a lethal air. Despite the knowledge, she couldn’t soothe her reactions. Her free hand gripped the edge of the rattan basket, slung on her other arm just a fraction tighter as she gathered her courage, pale eyes skimming the foreign mechanism with clear distrust. Larguz yowled and hissed when the machines came to life, darted among the table legs to stand before his mistress. The white, domestic sized feline had its back arched high, tail raised and a splitting snarl contorting an otherwise elegant feline face. Fear was not the factor that drove the Homunculus to its mistress, but clearly, a powerful drive to protect when the trickle of unease filtered through their bond. The sound of his voice came like the cracking of metallic whip. Keres, already tense within the small enclosure, affected by the caged creatures’ distress, jumped at the sharp, hostile sound. The small jerky movement nearly had her back knocking against a table laden with glass vials. A soft tinkling behind her instantly made her freeze, afraid to even breathe for fear of causing trouble and further inconvenience for the Lightning Khri. Small canines dug into her lower lip when Mara cut a black silhouette against the glare of light. ”…oh… it’s you.” It stung, though less, now that she was becoming used to his frigid ways, but her attention shifted quickly, brushing the minor prick aside to gather on his blackened hands and feet. The ashen waste had spread higher, marring his snowy skin. Cold, as though the disease itself forged its host’s temperament. “You do. No one has seen you emerge for days,” she dared to dispute, bending gingerly to pick up Larguz and drape him securely on one arm. She knew the Homunculus’s tendency to lose its temper. Keres did not wish for a confrontation if she could prevent one. When he dismissed her harshly, she canted her head a slight curious degree. “I did not hear your contrivances running when I came in. You would usually work with them turned on.” There was no doubt in her tone, only a touch of polite question. ”What is it you want? We can’t possibly be convening again.” Larguz hissed viciously, white eyes glaring at the Lightning Khri, baring needle sharp teeth that were all the mock appearance of a threat. A kitty with much more bite to its bark. The Homunculus was swiftly hushed when Keres brushed her hand against his back in soothing motions. He growled his complaint in a display of foul mood, empty eyes narrowed on Mara with a bone deep loathing. “I wish to help,” timid voice drew out the words cautiously. “Your ailment… it spreads too far. I might know how to reverse it.” She had studied him silently, trying to understand the strange, altered genetic make in the ill Khri. Perhaps she should have avoided doing so without his permission, but Keres hadn’t taken anything from Mara. It all began with a mild rise of curiosity that she sent her magic and sense to subtly quest for the faulty twist among all the nerve filaments. It was strange, difficult. Keres had no clear map to follow in this unraveling. In the end, her persistence produced a possible solution drawn from retrocognition. The idea persisted, despite her worry that it wouldn’t succeed. “If you will allow me,” she murmured. Before Mara could refuse her immediately, she provided him a succinct explanation, “Only if you are willing to take the risk. I have experience in constructing biological forms, but they never survive for long because they are made, just circuits without life source strong enough to sustain them.” Her gaze drifted sympathetically towards blackened hands. “I could give you your strength back, your hands and feet as they were. If you are willing to be the source, it is possible for the constructed form to bind to you, create a symbiotic relationship. For its survival, it will rely on you. For you, it will regenerate destroyed tissues, muscles, limbs.” She seemed to have forgotten who she was conversing with, for her gaze was now cast inwards, reflecting her thoughts. “Perhaps I could even try to fashion it to consume whatever it is eating you.” It wasn’t perfect. It wouldn’t fix Mara completely. For such an endosymbiosis to occur… the life form would have to connect to his spinal cord, his brain and at least one heart. And once done… it would be extremely difficult to undo. In place of Mara’s curse, he would have to live with a creature inside him. A lesser evil. |
![]() |
|
| CloakAndDagger | Mar 11 2012, 06:51 PM Post #4 |
![]()
THE DUNGEON MASTER
![]()
|
The pale creature set his pinpointed eyes upon the cat when the yowl escaped him. The sound, harsh and shrill, came upon his ears in an unwanted reverberation. The creature, already wary, was well within his rights to be and, if not for his master, for himself. The temptation, as it was, nearly drove Mara to add the homunculus to his specimen collection. Those creatures, sadly nestled behind tarnished steel, lived lives worse than death sometimes. There was no mercy from their handler. There was only the possibility of understanding to be gleaned from their fragile bodies and the knowledge that subjects, themselves, were hard to come by. A pit viper watching for the possibility of threat, Mara was already on edge. He needed no extra goading to lean towards cold hostility, though, such things were normally beneath him. Futile struggles, he thought. They were interruptions. Distraction. But, for some reason now, he didn’t let the frustration go nor hide it so easily. With lips tight, he clenched his right hand as tight as he could, if only to prove that he still could do so. Upwards from the low hanging feline, the Crhe seemed to be more willing to distance herself from the entrance to the lab now that she had seen the state of its occupant. Even before, he’d greeted unwanted guests with a deep frown and a focused glare, but, this was even more than that. He was up against a corner. And, at the sound of the jittering glass, he began to watch Keres with that much more intensity. She pleaded with the frost giant. “You do. No one has seen you emerge for days.” Thankfully, then, she took up her constant companion from his place on the floor. Mara no longer needed to look so far down to steel his glance at the creature. “I did not hear your contrivances running when I came in. You would usually work with them turned on.” Flecking sparks crisscrossed his vented mask abruptly, as if ignited by the clenching of teeth, the grinding of canines. Nothing had been on. Nothing had been running. All his devices, from the filaments he’d braided into the ceiling, to the centrifuges he’d balanced himself, all of them ran at his command and used the light of his mana to work. He would have never spoken to Keres about his fall. He’d lost himself, fainted against his disease and his ignored hunger and, as his mind had grown dark, so had all his work. Since use of another possible treatment on himself, he’d begun having dizzy spells and weak moments. Fortunately, nothing had been set back as of yet, but, there was always the chance that he’d be caught in an important moment and lose it in unconsciousness. Again, at the lightning elemental’s words, the homunculus spat and hissed like acid hitting flesh. And, he repaid every inch of the frigid glare that Mara had been giving him, but, the hybrid did not relent. One way or another, even if it was through immutable, narrowed glances, Mara sought to drive these two out so that he could return to his search. There were always samples to analyze. He was, though, not quite expecting what came next. “I wish to help,” she said quietly and gingerly, but with all the honesty that anyone had ever given Mara. “Your ailment… it spreads too far. I might know how to reverse it.” His gaze hardened to spears of ice and his breath seemed as if it would come out as steam from either fire or ice building within him. For a split second, though, something crossed his features. It was a strange flicker, something like surprise, but with undertones of pain or maybe hope. It was hard to tell. Even as he honed his eyes, however, he let her speak and did not interrupt as he would have others. And she spoke of her plan. Instinctively, he realized that his hands were not gloved, as they always were. He took a moment to remedy that and shield their darkened shapes from wary eyes. He had not thought of external means like that to fix his disease. They were never within his ability to sculpt and, therefore, never much of an option unless he could grow it on something else first. Even then, first and foremost, he wanted to know the source of the problem itself. It was foolish treating without understanding. He knew the consequences of that already. His eyes turned down in thought. His cold gaze turned reflective and he searched his understanding to weigh this option. If Faust had presented him with this option, he would have scoffed, not believing that such a creature could come to such scientific terms. He did not believe the man could have even fathomed how to work it or understand his disease. However, though he still fragmented himself from his kind, he knew that they were more skilled and knowledgeable in magic and science than these fools. His world was still one populated by simple minds, but, there were those he placed a step above the rest. Keres was a soft hearted child, but, she had her value. Truly, he had no hesitations about the fact that, with this, he’d not be alone in his own skin anymore, but, it did not satisfy him. It did not go as far as he needed. Mara, eyes once again alit with snowy tundra, looked back toward the Keres, her guard, and the basket. He did not pause. His voice held doubt and feigned scorn. Though, inwardly, this option set him pensive and, his frustration was thinning to something less fiery. “… what you present. It is… an option.” It seemed as if the words were hard to vocalize. His mask threw feedback. “I believe, if you are right, such a way may partially renew feelings of stimuli in my extremities.” He talked to her as if he was just another specimen. “However…” He stole a hard look at Larguz. “It is only treating symptoms.” “Focusing it on the disease itself will be nearly impossible. I, let alone you, do not have a proper assessment of how it works. And, even if you were to somehow design it to identify and target the specific cause, how long would that take?” This was, perhaps, the most he’d spoken to anyone in a very long time. It was certainly the most he’d ever spoke of his disease. Whether it was Keres’s deep seated magic or was his own exhaustion over dead ends, he spoke openly, though, not without hearty amounts of condescension and doubt in her plan. “Every day, I lose feeling. And every day, working towards that end becomes harder. What you fail to understand is that the roots are far beyond the surface. Within a week, I’ll have lost 90% of sensation. Within two, by the way it’s progressing, I will be unable to physically move myself at all. And, by days after that, both my hearts and my lungs will stop.” “Can you win over time?” The harsh sounds seemed to set the barily resting creatures on edge. They knew his voice, his ozone aura. Bodies shifted in the blazing light. And then, out of the deafening quiet… …his stomach bellowed like a lazy ox. And he sent such a venomous spear of vision down at his torso that he looked as if he was one sputter of acid away from ripping out the whole thing entirely and replacing it with a biohazard bag. (((OCC: fhdslfjkdsahfaoiwefsk my damn posts keep getting longer! uuuhg! I'm sorry. x_x ))) |
![]() |
|
| Seiss | Apr 1 2012, 08:43 AM Post #5 |
|
Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
|
OOC [I laav your incredible posts ;u; She tells him her last resort... since she doubt there will be enough time~] She disliked upsetting others, but usually, her presence didn’t bother anyone so easily. Whenever she neared the Lightning Khri, his manifestation shoved her back, as he did with everyone else. But he was growing weaker from some unknown ailment that reminded her of a disease their pups suffered. She was blessed and cursed. She was never in any danger of dying like the others. Her magic and her body took what it needed to keep her alive. Lives. Many only knew her ability as draining life force to replenish her own, but… if anyone bothered to examine the carcasses and the shrivelled plant life left… the deaths weren’t random choices. They died because they each had something her body needed. The other pups had no such luck… and Mara reminded her of such helplessness. If she could only give them what she had. Perhaps now, she had the knowledge and the power to do something. Her concerned gaze was drawn to the movement of his arms. He was hiding them in their gloves… but she didn’t need to see them. The light that surrounded him, invisible to plain sight but her right eye, gave away his weakening condition. She was surprised, when her voice faded, that he was really listening and considering her proposal. He was still his hostile, grumpy self, but at the very least, he didn’t reject her immediately. The flash of unnameable emotion in his eyes fuelled her determination. She didn’t quite understand why, but whatever it was, it did. Her courage grew a little bit more against the unforgiving chill of his demeanour. She gave him the same courtesy he did when she spoke, and waited in silence as he considered her words. Larguz was beginning to hate where the discussion was going. He could feel his mistress’s fluctuating emotions when the Khri told her her efforts wouldn’t be enough. White empty eyes glared straight back and frosty blue pair, sharp, tiny feline teeth bared. He would have snarled at the ungrateful bastard if his mistress didn’t mind. But he knew she would, so the Homunculus kept his silence. His fur stood on end, nearly concealing the slender arm that cradled him to her body. Only treating the symptoms. Not enough. Her teeth worried her lower lip as she bowed her head in submission to his honest points. He was right. It would only treat the symptoms and she had offered that solution because she didn’t know the root of his illness. And time… time was another factor. Two weeks? She jerked her gaze up to meet his, her own soothing, two-toned eyes stark with sudden panic. In her haste, her fang cut her lip, but she didn’t appear aware of the pricking hurt or the warm droplet of violet blood that welled. “Why didn’t you come to us?” she implored, soft voice tattered with distraught. The brief flare of confrontation dissolved to bitter ash, however. Keres dropped her gaze and licked away the blood, absent, unthinking. “I am sorry… that was- I-“ She couldn’t help the sensation of heated wool stuffed down her throat. “Why did you choose to be alone in this- fourteen-“ Calm, she needed to stay calm. The soft purring from Larguz helped… but it was the loud complaint from Mara’s stomach that snapped her out of her frantic thoughts. She let out a shakily laugh, too wound up to keep it to herself. No matter how fierce Mara looked, the hilarity that he directed it at his own belly just couldn’t be denied. She took a brave step forward, took the basket and bumped it under his glare. “Eat, please. You shouldn’t tax your body more than your ailment already has.” She turned her back to him then, two-toned azure eyes staring aimlessly at the glass containers she had previously jostled. Failure before she could even try. Larguz looked worriedly up at his mistress, displeased with the negative flux of emotions the male Khri stirred. She was unnaturally silent and he could imagine how fast her mind was racing. Small paws pushed himself up on her arm and a white warm tongue brushed her chin. In an absent motion, she lifted a hand to touch her lip. Fingertips came away smeared with mauve blood. Faint, the wound already closing on its own. For a moment, she stared at the compelling colour, lost in her own world. Her blood. Her inexplicable magic that barred her from death. The words she uttered next were delivered with such weight, as though speaking them took enormous effort, “You are right. I know no better than you do. You must have spent so many years trying to find the cause. What I have proposed… it is unlikely to be completed in time. It means you have nothing to lose, does it not?” The royal blue feather tucked in her hair caught the shine of unnatural lighting when she shifted her gaze to focus on a single bright flare on the rim of an empty flask. “There is just one other way I can give to you.” But she would tell no one of its cost. Keres doubted the Khri would care. She was paying in his stead after all. “Did you know, the animals instinctively know what they need when they are ill?” she said, her tone lightening. He had said it went beyond the surface. “They do not truly understand how, but the body knows. Just as mine always does. Perhaps we should let your body help itself. I am willing to give my blood to you, trick my own instincts to believe your body is mine. It is the fastest way, the safest, as well.” Slight frame half turned to cast Mara a wan smile. A vicious hiss, spat from Larguz’s maws, empty eyes staring at his mistress in disbelief. “No, Keres! You-“ the furious feline tried to wriggle free, small paws shoving defiantly beneath her collar, but he was swiftly silenced by a piercing stare from the Crhe. Her ire was so rare, the Homunculus was struck dumb, frozen as she locked their gaze. “I forbid you to interfere.” A command. He shuddered, the veins of restrictive magic bending him to her will. Her demeanour only softened when the Homunculus was properly bound by the law of his existence. Keres glanced towards the Khri. “It will only take three days, if you let me. You will know if it has any effect at all.” |
![]() |
|
| CloakAndDagger | Apr 28 2012, 11:19 AM Post #6 |
![]()
THE DUNGEON MASTER
![]()
|
The Khri clenched his teeth while a stray fraction of spark struck his mask with a dull resonance like hitting the side of a thin metal container. Immediately, part of him began to regret the looseness with which he’d suddenly opened himself to her. It was an immature, human feeling, pride… but it strayed within him and, knowing that he’d shared his weaknesses with another made the irrational part of his mind sputter and snap in anger. The very idea, though, that he had such a futile part of him just gave strength to the cold rationality that kept the heat at bay. Pride was folly. Objective reasoning was the height of all thought and, here and now, he’d come to see that his work alone may not be enough, or, at least, may not be quick enough. But the cold creature still bit back the fire of the lonesome success that he so desired. Worthless. Vain. Futile. Human. He would not have such an emotion getting in the way, not now, but oh how it hurt him. Frost eyes training upward, the hybrid creature watched like a leopard while Keres set her mind to think of his words. It was strange to see this sort of reaction from her. He recognized anxiety when he saw it, but, this time, it wasn’t directed to him in the way it normally was. Fear, anger, hatred. He knew those foolish signs upon other faces, but, it was not the same here. He knew that much and, he may not have completely understood it, but, if it would help him live, then he would use it. And, as she bit her lip harshly, that internal anguish for the life of her arctic brother superseded any sort of physical pain. It was deep and Mara watched it grow with a sort of accepting frustration for something he could not completely understand. She had no reason to feel that way for him. No one did. “Come to you?” The grating of metal and electricity jarred together to form a convex of words. “They would rather have seen me die than lifted a finger on my behalf. They would do nothing for me. Not the elders, not anyone. Just as I would never willingly do anything for them without gain.” His stubborn body, though! As his stomach got the idea, the electric elemental took his thoughts away from it. Though, the laugh that followed its braying betrayal did its cause no kindness. Damn body. If only he could invent one to replace it. He’d never need to eat, to sleep, to hesitate. He would finally be rid of those most base of distractions that, no matter how deeply he secluded himself, always came up to poke and prod him in the middle of his work. The female, though, took this as an opportunity to press her own agenda upon him and the basket of sustenance wafted lightly under his nose. The acrid air of ozone seemed to part instinctively for it. Like a snake, his pride sputtered up in him again because he knew she was right and he wished it otherwise, but, lacking in nutrients would ail him more than his ailment. There was nothing to be done besides accept her proposition for food. He would need his strength, even though he wished he didn’t have to resort to such base, reptilian ways. Perhaps he could engineer a serum to give him chloroplasts… but that would mean he’d have to go out into the sunlight. Instant rejection of that idea. As Keres let her mind wander to other things, Mara flashed his eyes to the squirming form cradled in her arm as it attempted to console her. He would have rolled his eyes, but, the gesture was just a sociological show of displeasure and would prove no boon. It was beneath him. However, he did reach out a sterile, gloved hand toward the basket set uncomfortably within his personal space. He hesitated for a moment, as if not wanting to litter his clean hands with the dirt and particles of what she had to offer, but, in the end, his shielded fingers steeled themselves around a fruit and removed it from her parcel. His fingers brushed its smooth sides in the same way he would inspect his glassware after washing it. And then with his empty hand up to his head, he unclipped the mask from around his face. The sheathe came down precisely. Its dull metal attempted a spark of shine amidst the bleak lighting, but, it sat in failure as he rested it upon a table inside his laboratory. And, with it gone, his face seemed so much more bare, as if it was just as much a part of him as his actual face was, perhaps moreso. His pallor was plainly evident underneath, however, as well as the dusty rose scars that slipped into the light at the threshold of his neck. He was falliable, just like any other sentient creature, though, he would never admit it. And, without the mask, this was much more imaginable. Without it, he seemed so much more like an actual person than a robot or a monster. Some probably wondered if he had a face at all underneath. Teeth of alabaster sank into soft, fruit flesh. The sweet sting of flavor slipped over his teeth like an unguarded static shock and it made him almost flinch in surprise. He had not tasted anything like this for a long time. He was sure, though, to make precise his attack on it. He refused to suffer stains or crumbs anywhere, especially on his person or near his lab. He continued as Keres spoke and had no time for polite hesitation. He had little time as it was. Nothing to lose? Surely he had things to lose, but, at this stage, it would be foolish of him to rank them higher than his prolonged health. Two weeks was not enough time for anything. And he had to be alive to keep doing his research. Death would be the ultimate disruption to his work… he could not accept this. He would not. He had to keep going. “There is just one other way I can give to you.” These words, as they slipped from her mouth with the weight of heavy threaded emotion. And, as she continued, he did find himself pausing in action. Here was the last plan, the last working offer she could provide for the cruel creature, though he deserved none of it and certainly none of her worry or concern. He had given nothing to her to warrant these troublesome emotions from her and, for the life of him, he could not understand why she reacted so differently to him than the others. It bothered him. As she went on, however, he began to see the outlines of her thought more clearly. He’d known what others did of her striking ability to protect herself, but, beyond that, he knew none of its mechanisms or pathways. And, as she gave her suggestion, the Khri narrowed his eyes in query. He did not speak, though, when he saw the shot of anger she silenced her partner with. From what he’d seen yet, that was an unexpected show and she showed more iron here to put Larguz in his place than he’d seen in anyone in a long while. ‘Impressed’ was too human a word to use to describe his reaction, but, he would consider calling it objective ratification. And, when her eyes strayed back to his, Mara met them. And he reached out to put a conductive finger upon the edge of his lonesome mask. Three days. Electricity played across it’s metallic surface and, disembodied, that same voice came from within its slits while his mouth itself remained still. “You can control your body stringently enough to keep it from attacking mine?” He doubted. He knew the fickle properties of blood against blood. Who was to say that, even biologically, they wouldn’t be wholly incompatible. And if he died… that would be a loss of nearly eleven days he could have kept working… well, as well as he could have by then. Would he even be able to do anything after that long? His mind set to thought while his eyes slipped downwards, the apple in his hand forgotten amidst is numbed fingers. What, really, did he have to lose. Even if he continued on and rejected her, he’d have to lose himself to the disease he’d battled all his life and it would be slow and it would be agonizing, but to put himself in someone elses hands like this… In the end, though, he yielded to rationality and strategic thought. And he swept a hand back to the mask. “...I accept your proposition.” As if suddenly ill-conductive, the mask’s sound was quieter, as if regretting and doubting. But he had no choice, not anymore. He would do anything not to lose. |
![]() |
|
| Seiss | Aug 28 2012, 06:10 AM Post #7 |
|
Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
|
There is so much contempt in the Lightning kin before her. Against his own and the world. It reminded her of the hatred she had seen in a few of their own, more among the humans. When they believed the world had turned against them, they fought back against everything and everyone with spite. If Mara knew what she thought, he might think it was an open insult. But he was... different in a way she couldn't quite grasp yet. Perhaps his hatred came from another unknown source. Her initiation into the council was recent, at least in Qih-nzak terms and she couldn't say she knew her fellow comrades well. But Keres, her faith in them still strong, believed they were above what Mara described. Yet she knew he thrived on facts, scientific truth and logic. To hear him deliver those words made her waver in her unfounded belief. One thing was certain, regardless. Whether or not the others would save him, there was no question that she would. She would try. Since their first meeting, the Lightning Khri had never removed the metallic contraption that distorted his voice, taking away anything that implied his mortality. She had wondered once, why he wore it. After seeing the black rot climbing up his arms, Keres had a suspicion it might be the same affliction marring his face. She was proven wrong, but the truth the mask unraveled was no better. The sharp slope and shallow hollows of his pallid cheeks were clear, unmarked, but what lay below the chin.... The old scars spanning across his throat drew her eyes like glaring flare. It seemed the question weighed just at the tip of her tongue, but the Chre’s lips remained sealed. It wasn’t uncommon for the males, not discounting some females, to bear scars. They were neither beast nor human, but still they share violence, aggression and competition. Larguz was still, white eyes staring wide at nothing, as if locked in shock. Feline body draped like a lifeless rag over Keres’s arm. The Chre didn’t appear to notice the Homunculus’s unusual stagnancy. Her remaining heart thudded more insistently against her ribs as she awaited the Lightning’s decision, perhaps terrified for its own wellbeing; while the Chre was only concerned for Mara’s answer. The function of his mask was finally clear to her when he reached over. Bright though small, the trickle of mana he sent filtered through it to produce the sharp crackling voice. A replacement for the one ripped out his throat. Despite the doubts and distrust he showed her, Keres took a moment of silence, simply watching the Khri, her two toned gaze unfathomable. Her drive to extend aid without anything in return was entirely simple… naïve. He was gravely ill, and his silent, lonely suffering dredged up the memory of her early life, the period of time she was ashamed of. If others could freely give their lives for her, then she could do the same. ”…I accept your proposition.” Solemnly quiet and fringed with what she knew was uncertainty. She answered him with a true, confident smile on dainty lips. “I will look after you.” ------------- Her draining magic required them to take on the procedure out in the open forest, where creatures and plants were plenty… plenty to offer themselves as sacrifice. Blood tests Mara took prior ensured the transfer was possible. They came upon a little complication with the method of blood transfusion, but the Lightning Khri seemed to have a solution to every difficulty. He made impossibly flexible and delicate tubes with materials she would never have considered possible. She had informed him that he might need to prepare some heavy sedatives to put himself to sleep for the first two days to subdue both his consciousness and subconscious. It would make her complicated task easier with least resistance from him. The Chre knew the weight of such a request- that he would have to trust her completely, something she doubted he would willingly surrender- so instead, she let him choose. For two days, they lay undisturbed side by side, Keres on higher ground to better facilitate the transfusion, in a glen shrouded thick with concealing undergrowth not too far from Mara’s underground lab. Tubes were inserted in the crook of their elbows with hollowed needles, blood, rich violet and aglow with the potency of Keres’s magic filled the tubes that connected the two Qih-nzak. Another drained a duller hue, trickled into glass flasks. Their only guardian was the reluctant Homunculus. Larguz watched the green glen wither. The grass the Qih-nzak lay upon turned brown and dry. Leaves fell rapidly from the surrounding trees, as though autumn had approached before time, but a closer inspection would reveal they were void of life. Then small animals were drawn like moths to a flame. Insects, reptiles, rodents, birds, deer, and later a whole herd on Kirin broke through the barrier of dead plants. They came and lay down to die. He was growing weak. He could feel her drawing on the reserves he was meant to keep, yet her body showed no signs of improvement. She was weakening instead, pale and ashen from the loss of her blood. Panther form roused from by his mistress’s side, white baleful eyes affixed on the Lightning Khri. Mara was recovering. The black stain on his arms had retreated, and despite his pallor, health glowed beneath his skin. A snarl carved deep into Larguz’s snout. He was created for Keres, no one else! Yet she had bound him against defending his purpose. He couldn’t kill Mara, not while Keres was still alive. He couldn’t interrupt. The mere thought locked his form, sapped his strength faster than Mara draining his reserves. The creatures entering had lessened, till no more stepped over the withered barrier. In turn, Keres was wilting. He could scent no rotting odour from the carcasses. It meant the Khri was still sucking away, now at the smallest life form. Larguz glanced helplessly at the frail Flora, a burning desire, the last strain of his make that was the core of his existence rebelled. He had to try, better than remaining here and allowing Mara to get the better of either of them. Lips peeling back to utter a frustrated hiss, Larguz turned and took advantage of every ounce of strength he had before the bindings locked him powerless. White ghostly form raced headlong into obstacles, cleaved apart, and merged again. The further he went, the more difficult it became to keep his feline form. He tried everything, morphing into anything that could transport him further, until he was a disfigured chimera. The Homunculus saw nothing but the only trace of life he sought. Until his shape disintegrated to viscous white fluid, he writhed, outside open doors, struggling to shape himself back into the feline the boy was familiar with. “Striker… Striker…” his voice was but a feeble gurgle, desperate, choking as if uttering the words took everything, “help… he… her blood… taken… help her.” The Homunculus arched, liquid funnelling to a leaping rope and turned back, slithering as fast as he could, back towards the dead glen. |
![]() |
|
|
|
Dec 17 2012, 06:20 AM Post #8 |
![]()
Wyrmling
|
Some people might argue that superstitions had no place in everyday life, others would disagree; so many could be said to have their roots in unexplainable events that the token says that later emerged were just a way of ensuring that people stayed safe. It was either superstition or gut instinct… whichever the red tint to the daw did not settle the hunter’s unease that he had woken with. So deeply rooted was the feeling that he couldn’t banish it, even with logic. Days like this usually only meant to be more wary, they did little to turn a good yield in terms of hunting. It was as if the whole world around him felt wrong… any sane person might argue that pervious to the academy he had spent far too long in the wild and was over thinking his animalistic nature. Still… he couldn’t shake it and settled into the day with an odd wariness settled about his shoulders and his should sword and dagger both within easy reach, even as he went about the colossal list of chores that had been waiting for him outside the wyrmling barracks. The only thing that seemed to easy the deep rooted nagging that had consumed the corners of his mind was that Alder seemed blissfully unaware of any possible trouble; making the dragon’s innocence the perfect counter for whatever might have troubled the would-be adult world. One hand ran its way through the thick mantel of tan that hung about Alder’s shoulders the other so casually reaching for the handle of the door in front of him. Sure enough it was a space he and his dragon shared with another rider pair, heck the whole hallway was willed with wyrmling riders. So it was not uncommon to hear the sounds of movement up and down it. Yet, something yanked at him mentally, forcing an uncontrollable shiver up his spine as he turned, making out his own name in what appeared to be little more than an exhausted wind. Surely he was going mad. What he saw was quite simply undefinable, it was there and it was not. Solid and liquid at the same time; both impossibly alien and familiar, Larguz… the name came as the entity struggled to take shape, any shape. Feline eyes and the familiarity of white knotted wood gave the would-be Homunculus away. Surprise, shock and desperation grabbed at the hunter, and if they were physical attributes they would have slapped him senseless. The complete illogic of such a magical creature to be here was unfathomable, and only served to wrench at the uneasy feeling that had been with him all morning; something was grievously wrong. Whether Larguz spoke first or if the young rider moved towards the disintegrating beast first was hard to tell, the entire world caved in at once at the realization. Larguz was asking for help. Keres’ protector could hardly talk and with the sudden roaring of blood in his own system the warrior could hardly hear. It was the insane desperation that twisted a knot in his emotions, the instinctual knowledge that when Larguz said ‘her’ he meant Keres, the very Hybrid to which the former Westernlander owed his life. There was no place for logic, no place for questions, such as the absurdity of how a mere human was meant to help a Qih-nzak. So he didn’t think, he reacted, breaking into a half jog, half sprint behind the rapidly moving and fading Homunculus guardian. In that maddening instant he had forgotten himself, mussel memory kicked in to say the very least. Leading up to a moment when his fingers pressed against his own lips; a shrill whistle echoing out of them. Such a summons for Culprit had not been issued since before the hatching, the heart breaking day when Kazuko’s dead body was believed to be left macabrely on display over the hatching sands. A latter lie and even latter events had not changed what had happened to him or the stallion he fought with in the past; a past which proved as stubborn as bad habits has the coloured war horse charged across the Academy. Practise, memory, instinct and any number of reactions had the two meeting at a fluid run, hunter’s hands up and around the tri-coloured neck. Vaulting onto Culprit’s naked back as the Stallion spun on the spot and after the creature which his rider appeared to be chasing. Sure enough the war stallion had his own reservations about the strange beast; some of which might have had him running the other way. Yet the stallion was loyal to a fault and with his rider practically pressed into his neck rather than his back and shoulders the war horse was charging with as much speed as he could muster. A wary snort was heard from the stallion as he flashed the whites of his eyes at the Homunculus who was proving to be more uncatchable than a dragon. He would have made his so called threat more apparent if he didn’t have to keep twisting around trees that the other creature just seemed to collide with and still be fine on the other side. Another snort, this time one that could have been read along the lines of either calling something impossible or inconsiderate; whichever it was, it was lost under the thundering of hooves and the churning of dirt. Urgency set both speed and course, but little else; sensibility was well out of the question and thus the direction travelled was not along any established path. Causing wild trees and shrubs to enact their removal of a pound of flesh from the intruders, meaning their branches caused all kinds of scrapes and cuts to warrior and steed. Which for now only served to forgotten or numbed by the over flow of adrenaline. Molten fire eyes were set, an almost dead cast black tint to them as they fixated on their guide that was rapidly becoming little more than a wisp of fog in the thickening trees. With vision locked straight ahead instinct about his surroundings still caused the hunter to catch fragments of everything else… much like the consistent dark brown that appeared to be following them. It could have well been just the mass of trees if he didn’t have a faint sinking feeling at the familiarity. A flash of tan and black and moving between the trees fluidly without breaking its pace, Alder… he had a duty to protect the wyrmling dragon. One which became a secondary instant in his madness, shifting his weight back on Culprit, pressing deeply into the stallion’s back and sides, the order to slow had been given on a completely subconscious level. Two steps broke the stallion’s blinding speed, only two, as it became clear that fifteen feet of Forest dragon had no intention of stopping even if his rider was prepared to halt his own mad rush in order to tell Alder to go back to the safety of the Academy. Alder was not stupid; his perceptive ability had developed rapidly, partly through his own personality, and the person he had chosen as his bonded. He had senses the desperation from the creature he had never seen before… and felt a great magical pull and drain on him as well. At the same time, the dragon-rider bond had shown a wave of responsibility his human felt towards this other being; but with many things about his rider it wasn’t something that was explained to him. Despite the bond, Striker had his secrets and Alder was stuck trying to figure them out, or have someone else fill him in with what little they knew. Following the undeniable trail of magic through the forests of Nyushi promised more questions than it answered, but there was something about it that seemed so right. Never before had he been able to move so quickly between the trees, the fluidity of practise was more than paying off… at the same time though he could feel the faintest magic at work; maybe it was just because the forest was his element and domain. Whatever it was, Alder felt like the trees were calling him, driving him forwards, pushing him, and all of nature seemed to be converging in one place. Without warning grass started to die underfoot and something very wrong rooted Culprit to the spot; throwing his rider clear over the line which he refused to cross. A sharp squeal left the stallion and he reared, hooves coming down with a hard strike just outside the rim of decaying grass and trees. Nerves wracked the war horse, there was death here, but he couldn’t smell it; coloured ears vanished against his neck and he snorted over and over. Tossing himself around not unlike a fish on a line; but he refused to edge any closer, even if the man he trusted as a fellow warrior was over there. Sometimes self-preservation was madness in itself. Still screaming as if he was in a battle Culprit continued to flash the whites of his eyes and jogged up and down the line of death. Even going so far as to wheel away from it and plunge back into the forest, desperate to be elsewhere, even if he had to run himself dead to be so. Only loyalty had him returning each time. Clearly torn and frightened; and working himself to the edge of exhaustion with his insanity. With each return to the glen Culprit’s screams were more frantic, and progressively rawer as stallion’s desperation started to eat away at his common sense. He’d eaten dirt before, through various scraps and falls; even been thrown a few times, but the force at which the warrior hit the ground he knew he should be thankful that nothing had broken. Through the ballistic chorus of Culprit’s screams the rider came to the realization that he had quite possibly bruised his ribs as he gingerly managed to get to his feet again, smouldering eyes trying to work out where Larguz had vanished to; a question which turned out to not need answering. Not with the massive pang of worry that threatened to kick the warrior off his feet again when he caught sight of not one, but two figures in the middle of the glen. At least the war mad stallion had not managed to throw him on top of them; blood thundering in his ears and trying to block out Culprits insistent screaming he crossed to the figures with little or no hesitation, which making out Keres, as opposed to the other Qih-nzak he didn’t know. A glance was enough to tell him that the other was male and most likely of a different social class, he didn’t claim to know much about Hybrids, but there was no denying the fact that the two before him were very different. Crouching he fingered the lead the joined the two together, a battle field transfusion was the only logical answer than managed to filter over the various forms of madness that had already taken hold. Keeping the pliable tube steady on one hand he reached for the dagger on his belt with the other. Twisting the tube to create a kink that would slow the flow downhill the warrior severed the connection, molten eyes darting between the figures to see if there was any immediate reaction. Keres drew his attention more clearly, gaunt, frail and ghostly; bringing back Larguz’s words. Blood had been taken and the only answer that worked on instinct was that blood needed to be given back. Sure enough he had done a few battle field transfusions before, but there was no knowing, and no telling what human blood might do to a hybrid; there was also no time either. Twisting the blade he was holding via its hilt the hunter made a clean nick though his own flesh in the nook of his elbow. It was nowhere near as professional or sensible as those that had been made by the hybrids, but it would do. Slipping the end of the severed tube that was connected to Keres between the layers of his own flesh there was a nagging feeling of uselessness… all he could do was wait for some kind of reaction… any kind, as crimson human blood started to seep down towards the prone Qih-nzak. When Culprit had screamed the stallion was not the only creature that had come to a skidding halt outside the glen where they had been lead. The barbed end of his prehensile tail dug nervously into the tree he was desperately clutching too, shaking with what could only be fear. Everything Alder could sense about this place was wrong… it was alive and dead at the same time. A strong magic of similar kin to his own held the glen in death thralls; and the line the horse below him refused to cross was like a veil. Everything beyond it ceased to exist. Green eyes blinked and brimmed with worry, and Alder almost figured they were playing tricks on him. Beyond the veil he could see other creatures, small, medium, large, and of course the whole herd of kirin… yet, he couldn’t feel them. It was odd… even the link to his rider seemed to wane through the veil; as if something was drawing on life force itself. Fur on end the rapidly growing dragon pressed himself against the tree, slightly furious at the situation. His head jerked up when his rider’s blade severed the connection between the Qih-nzak; a balance he had been unaware of had shifted and one side of it started to plummet even further. Grasping tendrils of magic groped blindly at the trees that seemed to be just out of reach, growing away from the epicentre of death and need. His own magic was newly born, small and perhaps insignificant, but Alder reached out with a tendril of his own and as the two touched he shuddered, pulling away. It was as if the magic had crawled inside of him for a second, wrapped itself around… well… everything and the young dragon had felt positively numb, and sick. Mightier than any dragon he had met this … thing, for it was too powerful to just be magic seemed to be dragging back whatever sustainability it could find, back into the centre of the glen. Alder shuddered again at the grasp of the magic, he could so faintly feel, this time though it was not around him, but around his rider and thus the Forest only felt an echo of its ravenous hunger and need over the link, green eyes struggling against the possibility of tears as he tried to see his rider; even though the link felt like it was fading. Wrong… it was all wrong. Vulpine face buried itself against the bark of the tree, he didn’t want to see it; but still it clawed at his mind, writhing death; waiting for one or both of them to fall. Talons dug into the bark… no; it couldn’t have him! “You’re doing it wrong!” Alder’s voice rang out with more authority than the little dragon knew he had. Even hearing himself he wasn’t sure what was wrong, just that it was. Striker was doing it wrong… what he was doing wasn’t changing anything. With a flap of his wings the dragon let from his perch and crossed the line, only the scream of Culprit marking where it was as he carefully, almost reverently crossed over to where his rider was crouched. The scales that pointed backwards up along his nose pressed into the hand in which Striker was holding his dagger, causing the rider to let it fall as Alder peered up at him. “Together. We do this together.” Not exactly an explanation, but it was all the young dragon could manage as he steeped closer to the Qih-nzak; vulpine nose reaching out and touching the paled forehead in a gesture that was either a kiss or a comforting touch. Seeing a wayward stand of hair across her face Alder pushed it away before stilling back on his haunches. His head darted forward in a quick, decisive move, his vulpine jaws severing the transfusion line between human and hybrid. Then Alder closed his eyes, reached deep inside himself for the magic he knew was there. Magus hadn’t taught them how to use their magic yet, and Alder was not entirely sure how magic worked. Perhaps it was just instinct like some of the older dragons seemed to suggest. So he wrapped his mind, and the power he could feel inside him around one word, one purpose; Live If humans could see magic in its un-concentrated form, then at that moment the former Westernland warrior would have sworn he could have, or he was hallucinating. In that second, he saw, or perhaps more correctly felt Alder’s magic, and through what could have been nothing more than pure coincidence it was the same colour as his crystal, and his eyes; deep, un-disturbed forest green. As the dragon pushed the pulse of his gift forwards his rider might have well believed its power shuddered out from his own chest, and vibrated though the bond and into the would-be greenery around them. Something beneath him thundered as if remembering a long forgotten call… tiny sprouts struggled out of the dead undergrowth around the Flora Qih-nzak. As they reached higher than a few centimetres they twisted, withered and died… but at the same time they would not give up trying to grow all together, their force being drawn away by something much more ravenous and powerful than the wyrmling dragon trying to spawn them. A great tug was felt against his subconscious, and without questioning the rider knew; subsequently surrendering all his reserves of energy to his dragon, feeling Alder struggling to maintain what little of his weave had succeed. Timeless, was the feeling Alder was experiencing, while his own magic was wrapped around to try and make things live the other was leeching what life it could. More than once the little dragon wondered what would happen if his ability or what little there was of it right now faltered… he couldn’t let it. Whatever that entity was out there… that spell… it was so ravenous and it wasn’t until he felt the flood of belief and trust from his own rider that Alder knew he could. Or at least let himself even more deeply into the task. Ethereally Alder and his magic had become one in the face of the other. Without fully being aware as to why Alder’s own eyes opened, looking down at the Qih-nzak he was sitting next too, and had begun leaning over so intently. Something moved, perhaps her eyelids fluttered and in a voice that was far too silent for the chatty young dragon Alder addressed her. “Will you be Alder’s friend?” Hearing his dragon speck, so quietly a worried hand reached towards the furred Forest, only to miss settling on the dragon’s shoulder as untold exhaustion crippled him. Alder collapsed under the reach of his rider, vulpine face settling against hybrid breast bone as the rest of his body just seemed to crumple where he sat. Contorting into unnatural coils caused by simply dropping where he stood; no normal creature would willing fall asleep like that and Alder’s mind was so far spent that the rider who buried an unsure hand into his tan mantel could no longer feel it. Even when Alder was asleep the bond was never silent… but now it was like a crushing void and it opened itself into the hunter’s mind. Worry, sadness and perhaps angry betraying the internal war over his features as the truth dawned on him. This act made him a horrible rider. No man should ever risk their dragon for anything. [OoC Finally. Sorry it took me so freaking long. *hides under rock* if the PP is bad give me and Oi and I’ll fix. I hope you enjoy ^^ I will totally admit, Alder had ME crying a few times in this *is a sap* Also, note, mainly for self... these events are set the day before Lesson Four] |
![]() |
|
| CloakAndDagger | Mar 1 2013, 10:32 PM Post #9 |
![]()
THE DUNGEON MASTER
![]()
|
(((Guh, here I am really late too D:!! Hopefully it's worth the while. xD))) “I will look after you.” She had said them with the strength of her heart behind them, but, as they echoed in his mind, it was only empty sound that remained. The preparation was of novice simplicity. When biological compatibility was concluded beyond reasonable doubt, the Khri deemed the chance of success within a statistically acceptable percentage and allowed himself the resources to proceed. Tightly bundled, a mummy in white, his gloved fingertips flexed and wound with strange delicacy to produce the necessary equipment. There was a gentleness to which he touched his machines, his glass, as if they were more than just precious to him. When they broke, he toiled and carefully took them apart piece by piece to find the miniscule error in their makings, and then, he would put them together, remembering where every cog went, where every hinge and bolt connected. His glass shone, spotless and peerless in the puritanical white light of the work room. His bottles and his scalpels were in perfect order. There was care here, as if caring for the whole of a person by keeping their parts in perfect tune, but there was no love for anything except the pursuit to which they made him able. Like everything else, they were a means to an end. And they were valuable to that and only to that. Everything was created without question. His fingers worked as his eyes stared on, focused with incredible intensity. The gossamer tubing was pulled, shining like spider silk, and the chemicals were purified over and over again to the exact concentration. He took every painstaking moment to perfect all that he had power over, and, as the moments died away like embers, it took him longer and longer to keep a hold on that ideal. Even in the only part of this experiment his hands had control over, his body did not pause in it’s slow descent, and it quickened it’s ill fated path. In the end, though everything he’d made was honed and made without even the notion of error, he found himself dying. The black radiation of death had claimed his hand and hobbled him, and it sank far into his chest, where he had no power to force it back. Even with it advanced this far, the creature with the lightning voice faced the task of forcing himself into the greater green of the world with a resigned disdain. There was nothing he could do. She needed the complex meshwork of the ecosystem beyond the academy to feed her innate quest for preservation, and he could not divert the source of life itself. She would likely not find it better that they do it within his lab, but, unlike a rational person, he was unmoved by the potential casualties. All that he’d sought to keep sterile, to keep clean and debris free was just moved out into the open, and he’d watched it happen wearing the same face as if it had been set ablaze instead. Perhaps her immune system could engulf any infection, but his could not. He had tried. By the time their stage was set, his body was bent over from exertion. Half his body was useless. His breath was weighted, as if every pull of air took an army to force his lungs to fill, and he had collapsed more than once, much to the detriment of the pride he adamantly refused to accept he had. There was death in him, and it was quickening into his heart. Still, even when it came time to be sedated, his mind reeled at the thought of putting himself in another’s hands. Trust was foolish. Trust was naive and unquantifiable. Trust was weak. Trust was human. He had no trust. He had only the detailed plot in his head of weighted values for and against fulfilling this procedure. There was no going back. Too much time had been wasted. He had only this, and he accepted it, but he refused to uphold the notion of trust. Laying, untouched, he faded. The world he shunned, the trees and sun, moon, and stars, it was gone in a fumbling black veil, and, as he sank, something in him breathed a sigh of relief. There was no need to force himself on anymore. His work was all he had, and that was gone. Everything would be gone. Maybe now he wouldn’t have to struggle so hard anymore. Maybe rest wasn’t so bad. Foolish, but what could he do anymore. When he would wake, if he ever did, he’d likely never remember his last thoughts were so human. Maskless and wounded, he lay as if naked for the world. Here he was in his slumbering weakness. And though he lay affixed in battle for his life, he felt nothing but the dark abyss. Over the course of two days, the Chre gave her very lifeblood. The world around them withered and died as she weakened to his disease. She sacrificed. The world sacrificed for this cruel monster of a thing that cared nothing for it in return. Why? Why was all of this allowed? The beautiful, golden hearted creature that gave all for nothing was slowly crumbling. Her body seemed to take in his death and illness like a capturing net. And he, laying in nothingness, was made whole, inch by inch. The progressive degeneration that claimed his nerves receded, warded off like fear in daylight. Just as it seemed to vein into the deep of his chest, it slithered away and diminished with the influx of Keres’s blood and was passed on, but he could feel none of it. Whatever soul he had was so deeply claimed by the dark that not even his body reacted to the change, save by continuing to breathe. The only creature among them able to see the straights at which Keres was placed, the only one who seemed to see the lightning elemental for his true colors, appeared to be no longer able to force himself back and, like a bolt, raced out and away. What the homonculus found, strayed onward in a pair to reach the sacred rite within the woods. Not even their steed had come this far, but rider and dragon, together, had braved whatever had killed so much so quickly, and the wrenching hunger of life culminating from the transfusion was just too much to bear. For something so attuned with the world as a forest, it seemed only natural that the young dragonling was wrought with emotion to it. The man, however, did not let himself hesitate and came close to the epicenter. With a blade and a will, he cut the two slumbering creatures apart and, instead, gave himself as host for the floral hybrid’s dire needs. The red continued to flow. However, instead of letting this pass, the youngling by the edge seemed to give in to his worry and met his other half down by the origin. With words like communal offering, he broke his rider free from the hybrid lingering and took it upon himself to act. Live, he said. Live, he told her. And like she had done before to Mara, he gave to her. And the magic between them appeared to bloom, but, as it had always been, the flower showed it’s thorns. It seemed to pull in everything. Live and death were drawn inward through both rider and dragon and, at perhaps the zenith of their connection, Alder gave even his voice and was drawn into the deep as they had been. He was taken by the rip-tide. It seemed that the noble need to save them had devoured every particle of what he had and, like a true friend, he gave it all willingly. Almost lifeless, he laid there with them, as if he had always been part of things. Around them, the stillness was pervasive. It was grasping, like an impermeable silence. All seemed but death, even for those involved in the circle of this grand scheme. What life had tried to surmount the pull had been snared and taken, just as the rest had been. And all of this had been for one single life upon the risk of many. Beside them, unattached and alone despite the presence of others, the pale lightning creature lay. There was a peace on him, over his eyes and his body. It was indescribable for someone who would not know him, and even more so for someone who did, but, there was relief in the way that he rested. The dark, inky claim of disease was wiped clean from his hands and his palms were open beside him, as if in reception. And without his mask to cover his face, his neck could not hide the dusty rose of the scar that thickly told a story long past. He was open, a supplicant. With a heave, his body contorted. His eyes snapped open and a jolt seemed to run through him, as if his body was shocking itself awake with it’s own power. The near broken heart leapt in his chest as he arched his back painfully. Air rushed into his lungs with a great gasp. And again, with ice eyes wide, he heaved it in and out like he’d been nearly suffocated. Mara recoiled, staring upward intensely while his mouth seemed to cry out, but, his voice did not follow. He was soundless, silent as the death around them. |
![]() |
|
| Seiss | Mar 6 2014, 06:20 AM Post #10 |
|
Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
|
OOC: Sooo late... Rich and vibrant with the aged violet of an ancient’s blood, it swirled upon reverse, receiving the bright red of a mortal’s within the tube. Nightshade and healing mixed, had smeared a strange morbid dye over Striker’s arm from when the Flora and Lightning’s connection was cut. Hot red flushed downward with the pull of gravity, pushing the purple till both fed into the dormant Qih-nzak’s vein. The panicked, yet logic based attempt to restore the Flora’s slipping life, alas, was met with no visible progress. But a slow, rapidly growing burn- not fiery, nor caustic- stung at the human’s wound. Had the young dragon not disrupt his rider, he might have suffered dire consequences neither were ready for. Immersed in deathly sleep, the tender touch from the wrymling’s velvet snout was a bare ghosting against Keres’s retreated consciousness as stray strands of spun gold fell away against her temple. Bronze lashes rested feather light against her pallid cheeks, undisturbed by either breeze or foreign touch, still as the rest of her. The vivacity of her soul seemed to have escaped her physical body, spinning a merciless web that was the bed of the fountain of life. All of it poured generously into her kin’s damaged husk. True to her words, the ebb of life and magic was panacea to his disease. The black rot that ate at from his fingertips up his arms was steadily cleansed, returning him the hue of his skin before illness ravaged it. Young Alder’s instinctive draw upon his magic was like a spark to receding flames. Like hungry adder tasting opportunity, Keres’s unbridled magic dug its fangs into the offering. At first the voracious power tore carelessly at the dragon’s replenishment, devouring without reserve the youngling’s magic. Its freshness and unpracticed sacrifice was the alarm that shook the Chre’s unwavering focus. In her weakened state, the wrymling’s innocent request sounded farther, surreal as fading illusion teasing the hand to reach. So deeply entombed in her own body, Keres’s peaceful repose belied the rise of panic in her breast. She heard the voice that could only belong to babes and pups. The horror of her past seized her as Alder dropped against her. Struggling in a thick haze, she couldn’t wake, couldn’t tell apart dream from reality. The distorted white lump on the ground began to shift towards the stunned rider. In a voice weary and broken, whether or not the Homunculus meant to reassure Striker, he sounded most tender, “I am hear you.” His form shifted in undefined shapes, stumbling past Striker and up onto the pedestal where his master lay, wrapping under the Forest wrymling like living liquid. He gathered Alder to lie curled on his side, wings and limbs folding naturally with the Homunculus’s encouragement. Larguz stretched and deposited the unconscious Wrymling into Striker’s arms. Despite the creature’s exhaustion that was his punishment, Larguz’s form stretched from a six pointed star and unfurled like rapidly growing weed until he was nothing but a mass of spilling vines. They slid around the resting Chre, curling in slow revent, lethargic coils, some lay gently over her arms and legs while more seemed to mold to her form, onto the stone that kept her raised. Down they tumbled onto the brown remains of the forest floor, digging groves, winding away from those who remained in the death enclosed clearing. When each found the carcasses of the animals littered about, they gripped the remains and dug, pulling them into the ground till the soil rained and covered them. It was a slow, slow progress, for each sidewinding push of a vine, the Homunculus’s strength was fading. But he persisted, until all were pulled under the earth. Like the ancient roots of a dryad that found their new resting place, the vines calcified rapidly, petrified as a tree’s roots with the Chre as its trunk. Then all was still and silent, save for the young man, his dragon and the breathing Khri. |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Dense Jungle · Next Topic » |

Player Guide
News Portal
Members
Calender
Gold Shop








5:41 PM Jul 10