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Vergil’s gaze would shift from the servitor and back to Hector’s newly granted rune to glance at it, however briefly, before letting him go and then cycling his attention between both the automaton and Hilana. In contrast, Hector’s attention was directed to Aoren whence the other vampyr let his wrist go.
The elf’s eyes would narrow slightly at the red dragon’s answer. “Comparatively, what I’d been asked for seems far less valuable than that which was requested from all else,” he’d tilt his head, pursing his lips in thought. “Perhaps giving my blood might’ve given more than I yet to realize.” He sounded far more thoughtful than what might be considered normal for him.
He’d blink, then shrug, “...whatever the case, I’ve no mind for regret,” he smiled, adding blithely.
But then came queries from Hilana, drawing Hector’s focus in her direction. He’d look to her, then lift his newly marked hand slightly; his gaze shifted to it briefly before letting his hand fall once more and then looked back to her in turn.
“Entropy,” he’d say with a cheerful smile and voice to match.
“But of the turtle? Yes! The Emperor loves that creature… that ol’ guy is enormous and might as well be the Imperium’s true leader,” Hector said this as seriously as he could manage, but from his expression, one could tell he was trying not to laugh.
“Anyways, during his birthday this past year, his shell was painted rather beautifully, gilded at the edges; he was also given a crown, and from looking at it, I can only assume the Emperor did deign to make that headpiece as expensive as possibly could– grander than even his own, though I hear the hat’s different every year. I’ve not lived there long, but there’s supposedly lots of meaning to whatever the Emperor sticks atop the tortoise’s head, so I’ve heard? It crawled ‘round Gel’Grandal like that for three days; the whole city was just…closed for it.” Hector sounded half enthused, half bewildered that this was a thing- for it was patently ridiculous pageantry; from the way his voice rang, however, it was clear the whole affair amused him deeply.
By this point, Vergil had busied himself with Imogen, insistent as Hilana was with helping the Orkhan right away. While Hector was explaining the tortoise to the Vastiana, the other vampyr would morph his hands altogether for this endeavor. There were some things, like amputations, for which he preferred to use other tools; the sharpened metal Hector could conjure served that purpose best along with the fact that lopping things off didn’t require much in terms of fine motor skills. But for excisions like this? His approach was different. The skin of his fingertips would thin until bone emerged, and as his nails fused with the bone, his fingers themselves would reshape. In assisting Hilana, his bones would take adaptive form depending on what was necessary. At points he’d sharpen the bones to a knife-like degree, parting flesh from crystal as delicately as he could. At others, he’d blunt and thicken the edges resulting in more wedge-like shapes used to create leverage, prying and lifting out the crystals. And given the innate enhancements of his vampirism alongside years of reinforcing himself further with careful, layered uses of Vicissitude, the density and resilience of his bones was starkly greater than a standard man’s– the ‘tools’ he used for this therefore possessed exceptional durability.
Working like this, he was remarkably dextrous and each shift of his ‘tools’ was seamless; in the Imperium, he’d been given the ability to actually operate with free utilization of Vitalis, either alone or alongside the select few who had the clearance to know, and by now, he’d fluidly adapted Vitalis into his already large repertoire of existing surgical skills. And while he did do this with his bare hands, there was little risk for infection, either back in the Imperium or here. A vampyr’s Innervate was an interesting skill; the concentrated vitality upon which the spell functioned invigorated the body in such a way that the affected cells thus functioned well beyond what would normally be considered peak, allowing fantastical feats like the regrowth and regeneration of even lost body parts, such as Hilana's hands. As such, any would-be infection would be snuffed out upon the innervation of a patient’s immune system.
The chirurgeon would work largely in silence, assisting Hilana directly if asked and making use of what sundries she provided when applicable. Were the witch to bleed, he’d stop the flow with Thaumaturgy or staunch it altogether when the aetheryte was cleared from the way by innervating the wound closed, striving to keep as much of her blood in her body as he could. Without having to constantly wipe away endlessly seeping blood, their task would be ever the swifter, too. And out of politeness, he'd endeavor to keep all of her tattoos intact should any crystal have split them.
Imogen’s experience as a Sunsinger resulted in Vergil assuming she didn’t need as much hand-holding through a procedure like this as perhaps others would, though skilled Reavers in general were all of resilient stock. He’d tap her or give gentle commands to move parts of her party so he’d have better angles or leverage when necessary. Compared to how long this might have taken in less capable hands or with one healer alone, they’d completed the excision process quite quickly.
As the vampyre stood, his fingers would begin to morph back to their natural state. Looking to Imogen, “...do you feel alright? If there’s ought else amiss, I insist you let me know before we continue on.”
And though he’d intended to wait on her answer, Vergil’s next move was to request the servitor explain the First Gate further. But rather than doing that, the clockwork automaton's answer indicated it would rather just show them. Seeing that Hector was eager to trail after the machination and it was headed in the direction of that crackling amber crystal, Vergil’s vigilance bade that he follow suit, too.
Up the spiral staircase, they would arrive before three paths. Ever the ominous one, the servitor’s words explained little else than yet more nebulous portents. Next, Aoren would speak, suggesting that the group gather their strength before proceeding. The sentinel, in contrast, stated that she stood ready to advance. Imogen’s voice was in agreement with Aoren.
Both Hector and Vergil felt fine. Rather, Hector felt more than fine and ever eager. The static aether dancing across his flesh was invigorating, nigh bewitching, and when the boy did move to approach it upon Imogen’s mentioning of the scrivened marks, he’d feel a large, familiar hand at the nape of his neck and he was then pulled back; Vergil restrained the elf like a mother cat would her kitten. His grip wasn’t something Hector could break without violence– so he wouldn’t, irritated as he was about not being able to examine the crystal more closely. He’d press his lips into a hard line, clearly quite nonplussed, but he’d say nothing.
Vergil looked over the others present briefly before he spoke. “Bit of a fool’s gambit to ignore an elder dragon’s wisdom– and that of Imogen,” the second part of that statement was said half-jokingly…or was it?
He continued, “...that aside, far be it from me to insist anyone else push forward unprepared. If even one desires rest, I think we ought to wait.”
If the decision was made to rest, the Imperials and spirit would do so until they were called upon to advance once more.
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Aidolon Speech
"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
