Aurin's hand, the one farthest from Sivan, reached down to secretly give little caresses to the tail wrapped around him. Sivan was a soft touch, and Aurin hard. Betwixt them, they had helped Rivin figure himself out. The process wasn't complete, but then, it never was. The hand nearer Sivan accepted the brush, though he frowned at it for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.
"Very well." The bespelled ink was cool, and his strokes were quick. As the ink reacted to Rivin's aether and some of the things Sivan was doing to personally midwife this enchantment into being, the ink grew warm, began to burn, although it was doing something else entirely. If Aurin's calligraphy was sure, it was because he had practiced it countless times so neither Rivin nor Sivan would doubt his competence. Aurin doubted his own competence, but he was the sort of man who could fake it until he could make it in most situations.
The darker of Rivin's magi handed the brush back when he was done. A moment passed in silence, then several. Finally, Aurin loosed a frustrated grunt.
"It should hurt," he muttered. "Pain fuels power. Pain anchors a man in his body." Of course, pain well and purposefully applied could also make a man drift out of his body, but that sort of pain wasn't the sort he was talking about. "Growth hurts. Growing in power hurts. Don't forget the pain, Rivin." He reached into thin air that became a small portal and pulled a scalpel into this place, borrowing it from the Tranquil Gardens or somewhere similar. The Magus had been thinking on this.
Cold metal made quick work on Rivin's back. It was so sharp, so careful, that at first, it didn't truly hurt - until it did.
"It hurts to give power, too. It hurts to share power. Pain can bind men together."
Sivan's eyes were wide, vigilant, but he didn't stop this. He watched as Aurin pulled the blade across his palm.
"Remember my words," he commanded, punctuating them with a hard slap to Riven's bare backside. A smudge of human blood glistened there on stormborn bruised skin. The little bit of violence had the enchantment crackling in the air, along the elegant lines of Sivan's scrivening. The contract was alive in a sense, a pattern of aether that bound to living patterns of aether, to men, together. It recognized the authority of the one over the other that was written into its structure. As Aurin channeled aether through his own rune, the bones of the binding began to grow flesh.
Taberenai in its mindless meandering had drawn too close to the demon, and it sort of skittered away, internal lights shifting color. Whether it was scared or merely mischievous, no one there present could suss. But the edge of revelation threatened to cut the demon and it began to feel the subtle bonds of the enchantment harden into chains like spiritual adamant. Exael made a noise that was glorious and terrible. He was laughing.
"Now, Aurin!" Sivan commanded quickly.
Aurin's hand came down hard on Rivin's back. Before the sensation could register, however - before their blood could mingle - the impact completed the initiation and the blow knocked a part of Rivin out of himself. That part was not the demon, who was now screaming black rage against Exael's bright glee.
No, Aurin had knocked Rivin's astral body out of his mortal shell and the apprentice - for he was now bound in service - had no real framework for understanding how to do anything without the solid substance of his body. He began to drift.
"Don't try to fuck me while I'm not in my body," he warned Sivan with an infuriating smirk. Then he handed him the scalpel and quickly rolled into his bed. As his body came to a halt, his own astral body kept moving. Sivan could sense it, and it was strange and wonderful. Then those essential parts of Rivin and Aurin were gone, and he was left with two inert but living bodies to watch over and attend, as well as an angry demon who had been blindsided by his gambit.
Sivan began to arrange Rivin's body so it wouldn't be more uncomfortable than it had to be when he returned to it...
"Very well." The bespelled ink was cool, and his strokes were quick. As the ink reacted to Rivin's aether and some of the things Sivan was doing to personally midwife this enchantment into being, the ink grew warm, began to burn, although it was doing something else entirely. If Aurin's calligraphy was sure, it was because he had practiced it countless times so neither Rivin nor Sivan would doubt his competence. Aurin doubted his own competence, but he was the sort of man who could fake it until he could make it in most situations.
The darker of Rivin's magi handed the brush back when he was done. A moment passed in silence, then several. Finally, Aurin loosed a frustrated grunt.
"It should hurt," he muttered. "Pain fuels power. Pain anchors a man in his body." Of course, pain well and purposefully applied could also make a man drift out of his body, but that sort of pain wasn't the sort he was talking about. "Growth hurts. Growing in power hurts. Don't forget the pain, Rivin." He reached into thin air that became a small portal and pulled a scalpel into this place, borrowing it from the Tranquil Gardens or somewhere similar. The Magus had been thinking on this.
Cold metal made quick work on Rivin's back. It was so sharp, so careful, that at first, it didn't truly hurt - until it did.
"It hurts to give power, too. It hurts to share power. Pain can bind men together."
Sivan's eyes were wide, vigilant, but he didn't stop this. He watched as Aurin pulled the blade across his palm.
"Remember my words," he commanded, punctuating them with a hard slap to Riven's bare backside. A smudge of human blood glistened there on stormborn bruised skin. The little bit of violence had the enchantment crackling in the air, along the elegant lines of Sivan's scrivening. The contract was alive in a sense, a pattern of aether that bound to living patterns of aether, to men, together. It recognized the authority of the one over the other that was written into its structure. As Aurin channeled aether through his own rune, the bones of the binding began to grow flesh.
Taberenai in its mindless meandering had drawn too close to the demon, and it sort of skittered away, internal lights shifting color. Whether it was scared or merely mischievous, no one there present could suss. But the edge of revelation threatened to cut the demon and it began to feel the subtle bonds of the enchantment harden into chains like spiritual adamant. Exael made a noise that was glorious and terrible. He was laughing.
"Now, Aurin!" Sivan commanded quickly.
Aurin's hand came down hard on Rivin's back. Before the sensation could register, however - before their blood could mingle - the impact completed the initiation and the blow knocked a part of Rivin out of himself. That part was not the demon, who was now screaming black rage against Exael's bright glee.
No, Aurin had knocked Rivin's astral body out of his mortal shell and the apprentice - for he was now bound in service - had no real framework for understanding how to do anything without the solid substance of his body. He began to drift.
"Don't try to fuck me while I'm not in my body," he warned Sivan with an infuriating smirk. Then he handed him the scalpel and quickly rolled into his bed. As his body came to a halt, his own astral body kept moving. Sivan could sense it, and it was strange and wonderful. Then those essential parts of Rivin and Aurin were gone, and he was left with two inert but living bodies to watch over and attend, as well as an angry demon who had been blindsided by his gambit.
Sivan began to arrange Rivin's body so it wouldn't be more uncomfortable than it had to be when he returned to it...
