Moving Forward (Florian)

[Lyra]

20th of Glade, 120 AS

Location: Dorkirk Estates (Lyra's Quarters)

A storm had come over the city in the early hours of the day, masking the afternoon sun with grey-white clouds that gave way to a heavy deluge that seemed like it would never end. Lyra sat in one of several plush chairs near a large window, a book in hand which she skimmed with a bored expression. When the knock on her door came she glanced up, but quickly returned to her reading as she called out absently, "Enter."

She did not need to see the horns to know that it was Florian. She could feel him, or rather, she could sense the mark he bore which was an echo of her own.

"Sit." Lyra waved a hand at the remaining chairs. When she had finished reading the line she was on Lyra closed the book with a snap before setting it aside and focusing her attention on Florian, "How are you?"

[Florian]

Florian still had not extracted himself from the hospitality of the Dornkirks, though with all that had happened in the past three seasons, he was in no rush to isolate himself once more. It helped, too, that Lyra was also staying as a guest — though they hadn't yet spoken much about their plans in depth, it was clear to the both of them that it was ideal to stick together. Both dark marked individuals had their own reasons and purpose, but they had realized that they could work to fulfill them together. Though he hadn't spoken to Lyra much in the early days of the season, as he was still growing accustomed to his new occupation and still learning how to manage with only the one arm, it seemed past time that they sat down and spoke.

Florian knocked on Lyra's door and closed it behind him. Bodyguards were not particularly necessary on the Dornkirk estate, and overall security was already elevated after news of their collective bounties arrived in Zaichaer. That was another convenience of keeping Florian in the same space — he had a bounty, too, and it wasn't a favorable image to have a politician kidnapped in the early times of war. He sat down in a chair across from Lyra and crossed his legs, his expression neutral, if not showing the signs of the elevated stress he had been enduring for seasons.

"I'm doing as well as I can, I think." He placed his hand on his knee. "I'm still a bit exasperated at the turn of events here. At everything that's happened the past...two...three seasons. It's not anything I could have expected. How are you adjusting to Zaichaer?"

[Lyra]

Lyra nodded slowly, listening to the rhythms behind Florian's words as he spoke. His body language was enough to gauge his current state, but his melodies spoke a deeper story. Lyra intended to learn more of the man in time, had intended to in fact, but as he said the last season had been quite a lot for the both of them.

"It is to be expected. Much has happened, and we are at something of a crossroads." Crossing her own legs Lyra set her hands in her lap, looking out at the window as the rain pelted the glass in an endless rhythmic pattern.

"I am a bird in a cage." Lyra said simply, though her expression flickered to annoyance, "Unfortunately it seems there is much paperwork required for one such as me to be allowed a longer leash. The Dorkirk's are also increasingly more difficult to speak with as they are pulled about the city on errant business."

Her eyes leveled on Florian once more, and her expression smoothed into a smile, "But all is not stagnant. There have been a few developments."

With a breath a plume of black smoke swept over the room, quickly settling to the floor and spinning in slow motions around them. Whispers traced from them, voices so soft as to barely be heard as the smoke gave off a steady wave of Mesmer that would distract and push away those attempting to enter the room or those who drew too near to it. It was an added protection from unwanted listeners. Lyra snapped her fingers, and a half-elf woman stepped out from a corner of the room. Naila, whom Florian had met at least once, walked over to stand by Lyra's chair.

"It took some time, but Naila was able to enter the city and bring with her a few items." The mercenary set a long wooden box on the table between them, pushing it toward Florian. Lyra motioned for the Lysanrin to open it.

[Florian]

Florian could relate to being a bird in a cage all too well, though now he was no longer just a bird in a cage, but a bird on display to all of Zaichaer. A declaration of cruelty and change, it was not a living that inspired hope. He leaned forward, uncrossed his legs, and placed his hand on the clasp of the wooden box. He didn't yet open it. When Lyra had first brought up the idea of a replacement arm, he could not stomach the idea of more necromancy — enhancements or otherwise — to be done to him, even if it meant giving him the use of both hands once more. But there was an alternative, and so a prosthetic had been commissioned in Kalzasi, to be installed by Lyra herself once she had the space and tools for it.

"Thank you, Naila, Lyrielle."

Florian flipped the clasp and opened the box. Lying in a velvet form was an arm, formed from just above the elbow down. It was a delicate looking piece of craftsmanship, like it belonged more on a ball-jointed doll than a man. Off-white, with a gold-looking metal, it was smooth and articulated for a full range of motion and even painted with flowery blue patterns reminiscent of fine china. It was a heavy contrast for Florian's usual look, and his usual behavior. That was why he had asked for it that way.

As a child he had played with dolls — cloth dolls, paper dolls, but the ball-jointed dolls in the windows of a toystore on Willowby were always out of reach. Florian was not a delicate man. He forced his way through life and through any obstacle in his way. He did not expend much effort to stop and think — he just did. The prosthetic was not as fragile as it appeared, of course. He had conveyed to Lyra that he needed to be able to use it with great force.

Florian picked up the arm and held it over where his right arm once was. "It's beautiful. And you say you can install it in a way that will let me move it? Move the fingers? With magic?"

► Show Spoiler

[Lyra]

Lyra nodded with satisfaction at Florian's response. The arm had not been easy to obtain and was quite expensive. Though she would be performing the operation herself, she required the base materials and schematics to be in place. The drawings alone took more time than she cared to think about. Its body was a type of porcelain, reforged to be strong as iron but flexible enough to allow the parts to bend without issue. There was a single greater aetherite shard at its core, powering some of the inner workings and which would act as a base for the schema that Lyra herself would use to link the arm to Florian himself. Finally, the wiring inside was a mixture of golds and silvers, delicate but essential for linking the arm to its new host.

"Yes. With time you will forget that you ever had another arm." She waved to Naila who once more closed up the box and took it away, "When I am able to secure the proper tools we shall perform the installation."

---

Date: 60th of Glade, 120 AS

There was little choice. As confined as she was, Lyra could not find a better location for the task at hand. So here she stood in the center of the rooms provided by Brenner himself, old sheets draping the furniture and floor beneath the long dining table that Lyra had converted to a rough operating table. She dared not carve into the wood itself, so instead the sheets had been covered with the required markings needed for the necromancy about to take place. Florian was already unconscious on the table, and Lyra slowly washed her hands in a basin set on one of the end tables near a cloth-covered sofa.

The task at hand was simple. The arm needed to be connected to the deadened nerves in Florian's shoulder, and then his soul, or astral body, needed to be stretched to connect with the arm like it had with his flesh and blood appendage. Two goals, two simple steps, yet the environment was less than ideal and Lyra found her annoyance flare as she extended a hand to Naila. The mercenary placed a long thin dagger hilt first into Lyra's open palm. It had a slight curve to it, and the edge was sharp as a razor.

The first step required her to reopen the stump, and she did this with two careful strokes that split the skin and caused a cascade of red on the white sheets below. She cut through muscle and fit, digging until she felt bone and further still until she felt the slight springy sensation of vessels and nerves. Setting the dagger aside she took up her bone stylus, and a bottle of red ink to which she added a drop of Florians blood. The ink churned for a moment before darkening, giving off a faint hiss as she dipped her stylus in and began to draw a series of pictographs around Florian's arm. The boy's blood ate away at magic, even world magic such as scrivening and necromancy, but she had time. So long as she was quick and decisive, the deed would get done.

Lyra peeled back the skin and muscle-like peels of banana, exposing the rounded end of the bone that Florian was left with after his loss. Bringing the prosthetic closer she unfurled the golden threads from within its casing. She then used the knife and a small metallic hook to isolate and separate the individual nerves that still remained in the Lysanrin's arm. She then took the golden thread and wrapped them around the nerves, each winding pulling the prosthetic closer. She made sure to align the nerves with the golden wires that mimicked nerves in an actual arm so that they connected to similar places within the prosthetic as they would in an actual arm. She then used sinew thread to wrap and tie off the connects. As she worked she breathed out a steady stream of smoke which curled and mixed with the blood there, condensing to black liquid to code the wires and feel for any flaws before she moved on to the next.

With the basic links done Lyra stepped back and examined her work, satisfied before glancing down at the snake that lay curled on Florian's chest. Artur raised his head, looking up at Lyra before slithering up near Florian's head. He paused to look at the man before striking, his fangs sinking deep into exposed flesh before releasing and returning to where he was perched before.

His venom worked similar to ghostwine, though not as powerful. It loosened the hold of the soul on the physical body, causing confusion and disassociation in the conscious, and for Lyra's purposes, it made Florian's soul suddenly much more malleable. While the venom took effect Lyra undid the remainder of Florian's tunic, with a shrug simply cut the rest of the cloth off to expose his bare chest to the air. With the bone stylus, she began to craft careful lines that sank into Florian's skin like a tattoo. She had never attempted something like this before, however, experiments had shown it was possible. She started with a large central ring with a series of lines that looked similar to trees and mountain peaks. She spiraled the lines downward toward Florian's sternum before extending lines out past the outer ring and up toward his shoulder. She created another similar series of circles down his arm to the stump, pausing while her black essence seeped up and began to coat the nearest circle with her influence. Her whispers began to flow, growing louder as she completed the pictograph, the design for her soul space.

She then placed her hands on Florian's chest, closing her eyes and breathing in. The pictographs activated, flaring to life with golden yellows and blues as Lyra linked the schema with the aetherite shard in the prosthetic. She then felt a sensation as if she were falling, and then darkness.

---

Location: Florian's Temporary Soul Space

The world snapped into focus as Lyra floated in her true form, far more solid than she could ever be in the real world. She glanced around, noting the replica of the Aetherite shard a short distance away. Around it was a faint outline that almost looked like an arm, but it was made of colorful lines which were likely representative of the wiring inside the prosthetic. She did not focus on the arm for long, instead looking around the space, eyes searching for Florian who should be somewhere close by.


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