Spiritwalker

[Hector]

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Vergil eyed her curiously after he gave her his answer, very much interested in whatever it was she would have to say in response. He wasn't quite sure if the question was a trick or a test, but there wasn't much of a point in overanalyzing it, was there? What he said had been the truth; he desired little more, vague as those words were. And of that, she did acknowledge. In truth, he was not sure what steps he needed to take, what mysteries he ought to unravel and so on to gain the power he sought, nor did he know where any secrets that would benefit him could be found.

It was also encouraging, in a way, to be reminded that for him, time needn't be fleeting. Parts of him kept thinking that he was past the midpoint of his life, and if he were still a mortal man, he would be. If one were to compare him to elder vampyres or elves, however, he was quite youthful. If one were to compare him to the woman he currently spoke to? He could only hazard a guess at how long she'd been 'alive' in one form or another. And to be fair, being around Hector with great frequency certainly made him feel old, given the boy's antics and general behavior.

After she spoke, she pulled herself closer to him, arms wrapping 'round broad shoulders in the same motion. Her touch was altogether odd, though it was evident he did like it. She felt corporeal yet incorporeal at the same time, parts of her not altogether…solid, as if she would fade away into the abyssal fog at any given moment. Which, he supposed, was entirely possible. He did imagine such a thing was deliberate on her end, though, for he could almost feel the strength of the æther that composed her, dispelling away any illusion of fragility regarding her form.

Hector squinted at this interaction, though he held his tongue. His Aidolon watched with curiosity, and it made him wonder– what was it like to be able to willfully take shape like that? As this thought passed through him, he began to search his mind for any memories wherein he had a body, a shape, hands, anything of the sort. Flashes of experiences, images, sensations and the like ran through him…and he found himself somewhat frustrated that he was no longer capable of condensing into a more mortal shape. Maybe he needed to feed more…? Perhaps…

Vergil offered little resistance to Lyrielle’s touch, though his own hands did not move. The man was cautious; he wasn't one to take risks in scenarios wherein he knew himself to be outmatched. He was entirely unsure if she would snap at him in one way or another should he respond to her in a way she happened to not like. At the same time, it was not as if Vergil offered no indication of reciprocation. His interest was plain in the way he looked back at her. For the most part, he held her gaze. Though as he listened to her talk, his eyes would flit over the different features of her face, of her figure.

Her words were foreboding, and while they did ring true, he wasn't one to balk at the concept of suffering. He knew the goal he strived for was an arrogant one, one that held an infinitesimal chance of coming true, at that– but if he were to answer truthfully when asked what it was he desired, realism wouldn't play a role. Vergil did little more than blink when her nail broke skin; used to far worse than that, he was. But then…what exactly did she mean by stating he already possessed the means to his end?

When she withdrew her hand to taste his blood, Vergil regarded this with a curious expression– did she share the very same sanguine hunger for which he, too, was a slave? Or was she something else just as cursed? Perhaps just a creature of strange predilections? He had no way to discern what the truth was, but the action certainly had him intrigued.

And to her questions, "I suppose that, for me, I'd…ideally be a figure told about in stories, in song. I would like to have work noteworthy enough to be transcribed into the annals of history. On one hand, I'm a healer…and on the other, I want to enhance, to bend and to break, to create. To endlessly advance my knowledge of biology, of the spirit, of how æther interacts with either or both. I don't know if I'll ever personally be satisfied at any point, but at least if I hear my name on the lips of others, whether they regard me with veneration or abject horror, I'll know I've done something to touch the world…though I imagine, with my nature, I'd only seek to top whatever that would be and then repeat such a process until I cease to exist." For the pursuit of knowledge is a journey that never ends.

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Aidolon Speech

'Thoughts'

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Lyra]

His interest brought amusement to Lyrielle's eyes as she continued to embrace the man. Now her hands explored elsewhere, into his hair, down his back, and she shifted herself until she draped over him like a cloak, her arms around his neck and lips close to his ear.

"A healer is one who holds power over life and death. The body is yours already to use as a plaything, and we see what it is you have done to your own." Her hand came to rest over Vergil's heart, "Myths are not born, they are made through happenstance. Chaos is the only constant in their appearance, and it is in that beautiful state of uncertainty that you must travel yourself."

She held out a hand, and smoke began to spin over her palm. A thin line appeared in her flesh and a small stream of black blood flowed upward into the spinning mist, capturing it as the blood itself crystalized and elongated itself. Energy like purple electricity surged through her body, raising the hairs on Vergil's skin as it raced down her arm and flowed into the stud as well. The energies finally settled and a small object remained in Lyrielle's hand, a black stud piercing.

"A gift to you, little flesh crafter." Lyrielle said into Vergil's ear, "Accept this boon, and your work will become renown... whether you wish it, or not."

If he accepted Lyrielle would bring the stud closer, and with a brief moment of pain place it into Vergil's ear before dispersing and reforming around Hector instead. She flowed through the aidolon's form which still surrounded the younger man, and though she touched she did not interfere with Hector directly.

"And what is it that you desire?" she asked, the question directed at both Hector and his companion.

[Hector]

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Given the fact that Vergil was, by and large, not an idiot, he opted out of making any particular assumptions one way or another regarding the exact intent behind the eldritch woman’s intentions. While he lacked the historical context one would need to understand the fact that she was a known manipulator, he still wasn’t about to take much of her behavior at face value. Because, well, why would you? Darkness is blinding, confusing, obfuscating– a creature whose very essence is the void very likely embraces the properties thereof.

That being the case, why not play along while one can?

The man offered little resistance to the continued exploration of her hands over his form. For one thing, he certainly did not mind; it’d been a minute since he’d found himself in the arms of a woman. This, however, was a bit of an odd circumstance, all things considered. For another, he was, in many ways, a man of great vanity. While he was unsure to the precise degree for which she could even discern anything about the work he had put into himself, about the modifications he’d made, he was well aware of the fact that his physicality was markedly abnormal in the eyes of anyone, mortal or ancient primordial…thing. For while he had tailored his alterations for the purpose of prowess and efficiency, he had also put much deliberation into the aesthetics and beauty of the masculine form– and of that, he did take pride.

But back to the situation at hand: when navigating a path drenched so thoroughly in shadow, one might be afraid to explore– but then what if one misses out on opportunity? While Vergil did almost always favor caution, being around Hector for so long certainly did have its impact on pretty much anyone subject to the man’s constant tendency to run ahead into danger. As such, in this moment, the older of the pair did not balk at all at Lyrielle’s words: ‘Chaos is the only constant…’

His features bore only a subtle expression, but it was a thoughtful one. “To walk in shadow is to invite chaos, and I accept that…despite my preference for control.” It is a fine balance one must strike in order to obtain anything close to a ‘controlled’ chaos.

Not long after his words trailed off did she extend a hand between the two of them. His gaze fell upon her palm as it would begin to bleed black, and before his eyes she demonstrated a strangely similar phenomena to what he’d grown used to seeing Hector wield. Except…Hector’s technique was one tied to his rune of Vitalis, and on top of that, it was uniquely tied to his Craft and his alone. Was she, too, a vampyr? Regardless, how fascinating to see another wield a creation technique so similar. Hector’s, however, was designed for implements of either structure or death. What she had crafted, however, was something far more delicate, something meant to be worn.

He eyed it curiously, for he’d not seen anyone harness Vitalis to craft anything enchanted, but he had to assume it was– Lyrielle stated it bore a boon of sorts. And while it was not possible to tell whether or not the effect was truly that or a curse, every single fibre of his being told him he’d be a fool to deny her gift.

Then, the last comment: ‘become renown, whether you wish it, or not.’

Curiosity was always at odds with caution, and while Vergil craved control, his own curiosity called to him over all else. “Honored am I to receive a gift,” he spoke smoothly, a subtle sincerity entwined with cordiality.

She did not hand it to him upon his acceptance. Rather, she instead chose to place it into his skin herself, the smallest spike of pain blooming when skin broke. And, once that task was completed, she dissipated, vanishing into the black fog. Lyrielle next manifested ‘round Hector, asking the very same question to both Hector and the spirit which accompanied him.

With notably little hesitation, “Arcane prowess– the likes of which to subjugate the very gods.” He said this matter-of-factly with a cheerful sort of confidence, but it was also clear from the steadiness of his gaze and the look in his eyes that the boy was absolutely sincere. Absurd, maybe, but he certainly intended to try. If nothing else, Hector's soul did possess a great wellspring of æther, a vast quantity of potential as yet untapped going for him. The Aidolon did not respond verbally, rather, he replied with a cascade of soft bells that gave the impression of alliance with his bonded companion’s goal.

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Aidolon Speech

'Thoughts'

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Lyra]

The younger one was unrestrained, wild even and a contradiction to the delicate features and submissive air he exuded. Lyrielle suspected she was correct in her observations. This one, far more so than the older man, was like a poisonous flower. Beautiful and deadly. His desires felt raw and unfocused, but beneath the unrefined tastes, Lyrielle felt his words held some truth. Power was a direct and straightforward request that was not as easily defined as one might expect. What power was depended on the person in question. To some wealth was power, the ability to buy whatever it is they wished be it objects or people. Others considered physical strength power, enough to crush their enemies and bend others to their will. For Hector, it seemed, the definition of power came in the form of Arcane might.

"Arcane prowess..." Lyrielle repeated as she twined her essence around Hector and his Aidolon, "A common request, which borders on the edge of dull and meaningless."

The words were said with a neutral tone, but in her eyes Lyrielle still showed interest, "The ability to subjugate gods is not something a mortal can possess..." She examined him once more, taking some time to consider before continuing, "Despite your differences, you child are still trapped in the od of this world, and thus will never obtain what you seek."

A strange sense of nostalgia washed over Lyrielle as she said these words, remembering the Aidolon who had said something similar to her before. At the time Lyra had not understood... but now as she grew more and more outside the boundaries of the cage that was Ransera, Vex's words made more sense. Even things spoken by the monolith felt less mysterious to her now, and both of these occurrences she attributed to the changes she had undergone in the seasons past. Though he did not realize it, Hector stood before a closed-door Lyra herself had struggled to open not too long ago.

"To gain great power in the arcane is as simple as time and effort. Yet what you desire will require more. Much more." She gently touched both Hector and the Aidolon and looked between them as she asked, "What are you willing to sacrifice for this power you seek?"

[Hector]

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Hector was well aware of precisely how vague what he had said was. This was, ultimately, due to reasons twofold. For one, the precarious path for which he would walk to obtain his ultimate goal was entirely unknown and walked very near to the border of impossibility. For another, he was not sure how much the Lady of Whispers wanted to listen to him speak. He was fully capable of saying more, of elucidating upon the intricacies of his desires, more specific things he intended to do, on and on.

To her first response, Hector simply giggled, his expression both bright and mischievous. “Of course! But I can’t tell how willing you are to listen to me wax poetic about my particular plans, and then there’s the fact that I prefer to dance to the song of chaos,” a deliberate callback to her mentioning thereof to Vergil, “as opposed to walking any one path with much deliberation. I, for one, am open to nearly any morsel of magical power set out before me. The only limitation, really, would be that I refuse to truly subjugate myself to anything.” The elf spoke with a sort of vibrance to his voice that only served to reinforce his stated intent; methodology aside, the only thing he wasn’t willing to sacrifice was his autonomy.

And when next she spoke, her words underlined something Hector himself was painfully aware of. As he was, he knew he lacked the ability to even dent the divine. He knew this, but when speaking of his desires, he wasn’t thinking about realism, necessarily. That, of course, did not mean he was content to accept the limitations of his current state. Given the opportunity, he’d gladly consider many an option to overcome this pesky little obstacle.

“Oh, yes, and what a tragedy such a thing is!” He spoke with a sort of theatrical woe to his tone, the boy having a bit of a penchant for the dramatic. “To break the boundaries of what I am is something I greatly desire. To fall to pieces and reconstruct myself, that is something I am ever eager to do.” Hector did not know exactly what vile machinations such a concept might actually entail, but in truth, he did not care in the slightest.

Sacrifice was not a thing that the young elf was prone to balk at. The boy had always been a bit of a wild thing, one who took risks without thinking. This was an attribute that only appeared to get worse after he gained his Vitalis rune, and while there was a distinct reason for this, neither he nor anyone else had even an inkling as to why. Nonetheless, this was how he now lived and functioned, unhindered by hesitation or trepidation, untethered by concerns for his own safety, unbound by empathy for others.

To her question regarding the subject of sacrifice, he answered right away. “My immediate compulsion is to say: anything aside from my autonomy…but…” he paused, lavender eyes briefly flitting over to Vergil and then back to Lyrielle. “I…would be quite broken-hearted if I had to give up my companions– either Vergil or the spirit bound to me.” For the first time, his voice did waver.

This was true in the most literal of ways. Should it come down to the wire, unfortunately, Hector would make a selfish choice. It would be incredibly painful, but that is simply the way of things. Prior to that, however, he would certainly exhaust any and all alternatives. He coveted the other vampyr as if the man were his most prized possession and the spirit, in truth, felt like an extension of himself.

The thing about that is that neither of the others knew that Hector would actually sacrifice them both should he run completely out of other options. Both of them actually existed blissfully in this ignorance purely because of how openly affectionate the boy always was to the both of them. He was so saccharine to the point that neither could imagine he’d ever make a choice like that, but…they were wrong. This manipulation was not deliberate by Hector, either. He loved them both dearly, but he was only truly loyal to himself. One can only hope it would never come to that.

And through this interaction, the Aidolon did offer Vergil insight into what Hector was saying, knowing that the man did not speak a lick of Vallenor. That being the case, the older of the two took the last thing his beloved companion had said to mean that Hector was, in fact, unwilling to give him up. A misinterpretation, but not necessarily an illogical one. Hector had always behaved in a manner borderline obsessive towards the older man, so to think he would ever give him up? It just did not make sense.

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Aidolon Speech

'Thoughts'

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Lyra]

Most of the interactions up until this point had been between Lyrielle and one of Hector's two companions. The two had set a certain tone for the exchange, one which Lyrielle had quite enjoyed, and unfortunately gave a false impression as to what sort of person the younger Vampyre might be. If the older man was serious and focused, this man was erratic and quite distractible. The beauty of his face suggested a much more subdued way of speaking, but then Lyrielle knew better than to judge a person based on looks alone. Even still the answers he gave were note what she expected.

"Confident and unabashed you are." She replied, falling silent to listen to the rest of Hector's answers, and only when he had stopped speaking did she continue herself.

"You hold your companions dear. I am certain they both are pleased to hear such devout speech directed at your connection." Though she smiled there was an edge to her words as she cast her gaze over the Aidolon, "If you were to abandon them merely for power... well I am certain something quite unpleasant would befall you."

Nothing that Hector said was a lie, but Lyrielle was not one who was fooled by truths. She saw in Hector's soul the willingness to do what it took to take what he wanted, and she heard the slight waver in his symphonies at the thought of choosing between his wish and his friends. It was a folly of idealistic men to think that loyalty was something that came easily to everyone. In Lyrielle's experience there were few truly loyal individuals in the world, and among those a fraction would uphold their conviction when faced with a choice that threatened their own ends. Thus far in this world she had met only one person who she would grudgingly admit to have such a disposition, and that pup was twisted in other more tragic ways.

Dispersing her form Lyrielle reformed herself a short distance away from the group, hovering again in the air and stroking a lock of hair in thought.

"Some require chaos to incite a change in their path, while others would do with a bit of... perspective." Her smile grew wide as she focused on Hector again, "A way to glimpse the peaks you wish to scale on your journey, in hopes you might find a method to overcome your shortcomings."

She extended a finger toward Hector, and her smile widened until it split her face and trailed into smoke, "In exchange... give us your memories of your childhood, of your parents, of your origin. Do this and you will see your journey as you never have before."

[Hector]

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If one were to compare Hector to a flower, the most apt one would very likely be nightshade. This much would be apparent if one were to really consider both his appearance and his nature. It would also be apt to compare him to a wolf in sheep’s clothing, for comparing him to an animal acting on instinct in some cases was really far more apt than one might come to expect. Internally, he laughed a bit at the fact that he could tell he caught the woman off guard once he’d actually begun to speak. For Hector, he would often bounce between being very quiet and simply unable to stop talking. It was rare for there ever to be much of a middle ground.

However, when Lyrielle spoke about the consequences most unpleasant were he to sacrifice his companions for power, he cast his gaze off to the side, giggling a bit. This, though, was an anxiety response– he didn’t actually think what she had said was funny. “For me to even consider such a thing…what I would serve to gain would have to be more than a vague notion of power. Far, far more. I’m not sure what being would even be capable of granting anything worth that cost, in truth.” And again, while he told no lies, he carefully skirted around the fact that he very much would if whatever he posed to gain was truly worth it. The question, then, would be: what could possibly be worth it?

Vergil did not believe such an offer was possible and the spirit thought Hector was too much a slave to his emotions to find anything worth it, either.

And once more, the Lady of Whispers dissipated into nothing but fog before their eyes. Reappearing once again, she was a few feet away, feet not touching the ground. In the midst of making a decision, she would appear to be. All three parties looked on with interest, not exactly sure what to expect. How could they guess, really? The woman was altogether eldritch, even fascinating to the one who was her kin, lost to time as his memories were.

Hector eyed Lyrielle with curiosity when she next spoke and Vergil’s eyes narrowed a bit, finding the sentiment altogether most foreboding. However, they did not have to wait much longer to hear exactly what it was she had come up with as an offer. The elven boy blinked, for the price was a steep one. However, one should note that he was taken aback more out of surprise than anything else…he did wonder, however, the extent to which striking such a deal with her would affect him.

“I…will I keep what skills I’ve learned, just lacking in context going forward? I worry how this would…affect what progress I’ve made regarding some things, but beyond that, the rest can go– I am willing to accept.” By the last line, the confidence in his voice sounded nearly restored. He just wondered how many steps back this would really put him.

That being the case, his curiosity as for what he would gain in making this bargain burned ever so brightly within. His Aidolon’s song played in a way that was encouraging, as if he were cheering on this choice most interesting.

Vergil, however, was a bit taken aback at the boy’s willingness to accept what had been offered, especially because he had no idea what he served to gain. Of course…that was his nature. His jaw tightened, tension visible in his face and audible in his Symphony. He bit back his words, however, knowing that arguing with Hector in this moment would be fruitless. The boy had made up his mind.

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Aidolon Speech

'Thoughts'

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Lyra]

"How indeed." Lyrielle showed great amusement at the confliction in Hector's expression, drawing closer until she was just a breath away, "Your skills you have your soul shall keep, yet their origins will be lost. In this, a state of ignorant knowledge, the strings which bind your potential will be severed, and a path of power, or madness, will lay ahead of you."

The wavering edges of the woman's body became more erratic as she spoke, and with each syllable she grew larger until her formless body spilled out into the trees and the black smoke became a dome separating the three from the world outside. Slowly Lyrielle unfolded herself, revealing to the three what she had kept hidden beyond a vague sense of wrongness. Her skin began to writhe, points moving like a fingers clawing as faces pressed out against the pale flesh in wordless screams. The smoke at their feet thickened to a viscous tar, and when she leaned down more of liquid spilled from her mouth as she continued.

"You claim to desire power, yet show hesitancy now." She raised one long finger as thick as Hector's arm and poked a nail at his chest. Dark tears flowed down her cheeks as her golden eyes glowed with an inner light. Her true form was something difficult to grasp for those unused to seeing through the veil, and her form gave off a gnawing sense of unease bordering madness, especially when looking into her eyes. Silver hair flowed like water around them, moving as if the strands had a mind of their own.

"Speak the words. Say you accept this price." The words were echoed by a thousand voices growing subsequently softer as the smoke around them resolved into faces and bodies of men, women and children, disappearing as quickly as they formed. Lyrielle waited for Hector's answer, never looking away from the man until he finally accepted.

Then, wordlessly, her smile turned into a sneer, "A pact is made, and conditions accepted. First we take our payment."

The liquid at Hector's feet would bubble before hands of tar reached up to grasp at his legs, his waist, and finally his arms, lifting him up toward Lyrielle who bent down and once more pressed a nail against Hector's chest. The sound of whispers grew louder as thin strands of aether began to flow between them. Lyrielle pressed her mind against Hector's, and with a snap a connection was formed. The tip of her finger dipped into Hector's chest then, and a pain unlike anything he had ever experienced would twist his body until there was the sound of something cracking. Pulling her hand back Lyrielle studied a small orb that rested in the palm of her hand, and smiled down at Hector.

"The price is given... Now accept your reward." Black tar raced up Hector's arm, up to his neck before finally engulfing his head. Pain again came, more muted this time, as Lyrielle spun another weave of magic. With one nail she cut a line on her wrist and held the wound over Hector's head, a stream of black blood flowing out and mixing with the tar.

"To see the heights of power in this world, you must look with the eyes of a divine..." She paused and continued with a laugh, "Or the eyes of a monster."

The black tar collected on Hector's forehead, letting him see once more as the burning sensation increased. The feeling of something being carved, no branded on his skin and then quickly healed over.

"Ten times you may pierce the veil, ten times may you see what what no mortal is meant to see. When all your glimpses are used, then shall your memories be returned to you, but be forewarned little vampyre." Through their connection, and with the aid of Hector's own memories, Lyrielle finally understood who and what these two were. Due to some odd emotion, perhaps stemming from the one that she felt when she thought of the Aidolon, Lyrielle decided to offer one final bit of advice to the boy, "To look at the soul of a god is to accept death, be it from the shattering of your soul due to the strain, or the wrath of the gods whom you seek to observe."

The final spark of pain washed away as Hector was lowered to the ground. On his forehead a mark appeared like the eye of a serpent, but the designs of the pictograph were more intricate the longer one looked. Slowly the mark faded until it could not be seen at all.

Lyrielle turned her attention to the Aidolon, and gave the creature one final smile, "We will watch for you, child. Grow strong."

She cast a glance at Vergil before her, and the entirety of the dome she had created, exploded and blew away like mist before the morning sun.

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Lyrielle has given Hector and Vergil each 1 Eldritch Boon.

Chaos Spike
Lyrielle gifted Vergil with a black stud earing made of her own crystalized blood. While making it she fed into it a sliver of her own soul which contained the magic of Entropy. When Vergil uses the object while practicing his magic, the spike will generate a random and chaotic affect like those found in miststorms. These can be as small as chaniging the hair color of a patient, to transforming a body Vergil is manipulating into an abomination.

Uses: 10


Brand of the Eldritch Eye
Lyrielle used the Vitality ability of Branding in combination with her mastery of scrivening ability to make eldritch objects to create a brand which carries her boon. When activated Hector is able to pierce the veil and view the souls of others. There are no protections in place, so Hector assumes the risk if he chooses to look at powerful entities through the veil as a non Outsider or Demigod himself. The brand also allows a certain level of innate understanding of how to interpret a souls appearance, but much is based on experience and his own interpretation.

When using the brand it glows faintly, but this affect can be hidden with normal headwear.

Uses: 10

Price: Lyrielle fractured Hector's soul and took his memories of his childhood and his family. This does not affect his skills or knowledge in those skills. When he tries to recall memories of his childhood or family it is as if that time never existed, with no vague outline or blurry images remaining.

[Hector]

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When she replied to his question, Hector blinked, appearing to think for but a fraction of a second, and then his trepidation would be washed away. From his face. From his voice– from his very Symphony. In the place of what hesitation had rang before there came the melody of a vibrant, blooming excitement and a harmonic sort of excitement.

Lavender eyes, clear as crystal, watched with a curious, almost child-like sort of wonderment as Lyrielle began to lose her shape. From his expression, one would not be amiss to assume the boy to be thoroughly bewitched by what was transpiring before him. He adored the bend and break of her anatomy, the writhing of her form. In fact, the most notable emotion he felt was admiration. Hector had never seen a creature quite like this in his short time on this plane and now that he had, he wanted nothing more than to find himself in her position at some point in the future.

Altogether eldritch, the Lady of Whispers was a horror from mankind’s darkest nightmares. The screams that surrounded the group, encased in a dome of abyssal shadow, should be utterly horrific on the ears. And yet to Hector, with his predilection for the macabre, for the breaking of body and mind, he found himself utterly enamored with whatever it was she was. Though curious, he didn’t even care to hear the answer. The spectacle alone was enough…for now.

The elven boy would show markedly little fear or even a shred of intimidation, such being backed up back a dearth thereof in his heart’s song. This did not change when her voice resonated with the sound of thousands, a cacophony of noise altogether otherworldly. It did not change as the features of the damned pressed against her skin from within. His answer was clear before he ever even parted his lips.

“Enthusiastically, I accept!” The boy spoke cheerfully, a bright sound amid the darkness that enveloped them.

The hands from the void below startled him at first, but his conviction did not falter. Rather, he eyed the phantom limbs with curiosity and did not resist, not even as he was lifted into the air towards the woman with whom he had just struck a deal most nefarious.

Vergil watched on, his expression showing more emotion now than it had any moment prior. Nothing extreme, of course, ever restrained as he was…yet such strain was written all over his face. His visage bore a look of stress, of worry, of anxiety– he certainly did not agree with the deal that his companion had made and the very concept of the other forgetting the vast majority of his life created a chasm in his stomach he wouldn’t be able to resolve until after this was all over. The parts were in place, the wheels were turning– there was no going back and he knew it.

Glistening, coruscant strands of æether wove around the figures of Lyrielle and Hector. When threads pulled taut and a bridge was formed properly, the sound was like the crack of a whip; it was startling, sharp, causing both vampyres to flinch. And when her hand dipped into the boy’s chest, his scream was star shattering. Hector found no dignity in restraint. He never had, he never would, so as soon as the pain hit him, he reacted. The sound of his voice was dizzying to Vergil’s preternaturally enhanced hearing, but he didn’t care about that. The older of the pair wanted nothing more than to intervene and stop this, but he knew that he couldn’t. He knew that there was no point.

The observing vampyr’s gaze lingered on the little violet orb that Lyrielle now held in her hands, recognizing it for what it was– the price Hector had agreed to pay. His expression now was one of deep sadness marred with dread. To have given up something so very core to his identity without thinking about the effects it would have…in truth, Vergil did not understand how one could agree to something like that. Hector was barely a man; that which he had given up was nearly the story of his entire life thus far.

When it came to pain, Hector was no stranger. He’d brooked the rebirth of Vitalis, weathered being used as a pincushion and experimental body for other vampyres, used himself to practice Necromancy, and he and his dear lover were not gentle to one another when the two of them coalesced. What he had felt when she took his memories, however, was like a lightning strike through his spine, igniting his entire nervous system at once. It eclipsed any one thing he’d ever experienced. While his rebirth was longer, it was an agonizing journey. This was an instant and the difference was so very, very vibrant in its violence.

Given this, the boy was unawares when the second phase of their exchange began. He had not yet regained his coherence as the black ink wound up his arms like vines, overtaking him with haste. His vision was fading in and out to begin with, so the obfuscation of his sight made little difference. The only thing he really noticed was the wave of further pain that rolled through him as she applied her gift. By comparison to what had preceded it, this almost felt soothing, warm as it was.

Despite this, he did hear every word she said. It was just that for most of this, he was thoroughly unable to respond up until she’d given her warning about gazing at the soul of a god. He’d heard that advice before, though it was never directed at him. Usually, such warnings were told to Semblers or Mesmers, and while he didn’t quite grasp the reason as to why this was, to take that risk was tantamount to suicide and that was…really the last thing he wanted at this point.

Once he was lowered to the ground, he lingered there, altogether unsteady and dazed for a moment before Vergil moved closer to offer support, arms snaking ‘round the boy’s waist and pulling him close. Hector leaned against the familiar frame, for he did recognize the other. All of his emotions were still present, but…it was different now. There were so many pieces missing; so much context that had been stripped away. While the man who held him now registered as somebody he cared deeply for, somebody he loved, he really had no idea why. Without foundation, without the roots that had allowed these emotions to grow in the first place, were they sustainable going forward? Of this, he did not know. And of this, for now, he would say nothing.

The elf stared up at Lyrielle as she gave her final words. Though dazed, he managed to say one last thing: “Thank you.”

And then, the sound of gale winds blew through them as the woman took her leave. The three souls that lingered behind were now forever changed.

- - -

Aidolon Speech

'Thoughts'

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Mirage]

Hector

Lores
+10 Lore

Points
+10XP Can be used for magic

Rewards
Chaos Spike - Vergil has been gifted an eldritch item from the Outsider of Souls. The spike, when activated, will cause one random affect to manifest in any project Vergil is actively working on. The affect can be as small as turning a patient's skin blue, to as large as making spikes of diamond appear on their back. The spike has 10 charges, once they are used up the spike will disappear.

Brand of True Sight - Hector has been given an eldritch brand from the Outsider of Souls. The brand, when activated, lets Hector see beyond the veil and shows the soul of the person, or creature, he is looking at. It allows some small translation to Hector, letting him glean surface information from the things he sees, but the rest must be learned with practice. There are no protections in place, so Hector has been warned to be wary of who he tries to observer. Looking at the souls of gods or other higher tier beings may result in unfavorable results. The brand has 10 charges, and once used up the brand will disappear.

In exchange for the brand Hector has given up his memories of his childhood, up to just a few months before the meeting with Lyra. The part of Hector's soul which contained those memories is simply gone, thus there is no fuzziness or faint recollection, just a stark emptiness when he tries to remember his past. Once the last charge of the brand has been used his memories will be returned to him.


Lyra

Lores
+10 Lore

Points
+10XP

Comments: That was a fun thread! Happy Writing!