extramural | CONTACT ;; eachdraidh

[ Disconnection. Fitting, for a being like him -- a being that does not truly belong in the physical world.

He nods. ]

Like my Void. [ His Void, because it is not the Void of this world. ] Dreams and magic and power... The sigils are truly ancient bone charms, in a way. If what we are told of all worlds coming from this one is true, I suppose it makes sense.

I will carry it. I may seek my own ways to hide it.

[ If only because he's seen some of the magic people here use, and- well, the Brucolac's was really sloppy. ]

I trust you.

[again, that half-trance, rejecting and explaining -- i will still love you, but go, go here and be, until later comes, promise -- until it accepts the bargain struck, and they both know it's in the proper mind to go ahead.

she doesn't smile when she brings it to his exposed chest, begins to press it inwards, and it begins to tear and break, slightly altering him to exist as it will. a spike with jagged edges relentlessly being pushed deeper, reaching past blood and bone and ripping its way through. power being forced along unfamiliar channels, protesting by way of pain crackling across his body. not so much changing what is as making it to work in new ways.

even if he screams, she won't stop. if he falls, she'll catch him. but this cannot be halted halfway. this light must be eclipsed by his own.]

[ He does not scream. There is a sound that escapes from his mouth, though -- a low, animal sound, something mournful and ancient. It's what the whales sound like when the butchers cleave through their flesh, a few notes out of a dying song.

He does not fall, but his feet are touching the ground and his hands find Grell's shoulders, grip them. Pale lids close over all-black eyes, his head dropping, forehead touching hers. As he has for thousands of years, he endures.

It is not pleasant. But it never has been. ]

[finally, it is all the way where it should be, left to settle in, its light vanished behind his own. it's done, taxing as it was, and her hand rests on his chest for a moment.

they both survived. why, she cannot say, be it that they are shardbearers or that they aren't mortal, but it is now their shared secret.]

Are you all right?

[ He does not need to breathe. He does so anyway, drawing in a breath to test and see if the sigil's entrance has left any noticeable strain. It hasn't, as far as he can tell, though he can feel it sitting within him if he focuses. ]

Yes.

[ Both hands flex on her shoulders and he pulls away, abruptly realizing that he may have squeezed rather hard. ]

Yes, I am- I am well.

[if he did, she didn't even notice, being so intent on the work. walking, she could warn him, might be a little odd until the strength returns entirely, but then she remembers he usually hovers anyway.]

Good.

[for a moment, it's concern that shows itself most strongly, until she drops her hand.]

And in one act, you've gone and very possibly saved my life. I don't know how to repay you.

[is it a joke? maybe, or she could be dead serious.]

I am certain we can think of something.

[ It's also very hard to tell if he's serious or joking -- then again, it usually is. ]

You are well, then?

[ After all, she'd had to put a second sigil in herself, pull it out, and then shove it in his chest. ]

[she smiles just a touch but shakes her head. it was draining work, if she was to be honest, but she can teleport back.]

It will take a little time. By tomorrow, at the latest.

The sigil itself does not alter your healing?

[ Something that he maybe should have asked before agreeing to get one shoved into his chest... but that hardly would have been as interesting as experiencing it himself. ]

Oh, absolutely not. It's simply a matter of lack of energy. Which is why it can be fixed so soon.

[even an immortal was tested with all this. if she had been mortal, she thinks she would have fainted.]

I suppose I should let you rest, then.

[ And he should... make sure his puppies haven't destroyed anything. ]

CONTACT ;; eachdraidh

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