The Color of Rebirth II
Posted: Mon Jul 25, 2022 2:16 am
TIMESTAMP: 7th of Sun’s Zenith year 118
NOTES: For Vitalis request; part 2 of 4.
NOTES: For Vitalis request; part 2 of 4.
► Show Spoiler
- - -
- - -
- - -
A scream cut and turned into a gasp, and now grasping at his rune, Hector’s eyes shocked open and he dropped to the ground as he felt his sternum crack. The vampyre caught him, supporting the young man in his arms. The magic made different types of pain feel electric; it felt like heat, like pressure, like currents roiling within. The sensation was lacking what bite his perception of pain typically tormented him with. His nerves felt like fire was searing through him, it was so incredibly overwhelming…but there was something undeniably pleasant that had been woven into his perception of pain; threads of something akin to ecstasy had been enmeshed with agony. Burying his face in the other’s chest, the sounds of his ragged breathing and cracking bones pierced the basement’s thick silence for a painfully long period of time. Vergil attempted to sooth him with soft touch and words of encouragement, but how much that helped was hard to tell. He’d done all he could– his initiate would have to ride the waves and capture the power that now fed on him.
The tissue immediately surrounding the mark began to dry, slowly tightening against bone as it began to rot. Hector’s grip on his mentor tightened significantly as he coughed dark, decaying blood into the fabric of Vergil’s shirt, nose beginning to bleed in tandem to this. He could feel his organs beginning to wilt and shut down, whimpering as bones continued to break and muscles started to atrophy, sinew slowly beginning to dissolve. Gentle as a deer, Vergil placed his protege’s decaying body on the ground, laying him on his side to prevent him from choking unnecessarily. What little he could do for Hector’s comfort, he would.
The timing of this transition was rather good; shortly thereafter, the boy began to convulse as the magic dug its claws into the nerves that clung to his spine. The louder popping cracks of shattering bones quieted over the next few moments to a continuous sort of static crackling while his bones continued the excruciating process of grinding themselves to dust. Broken fragments of bone ripped through decaying flesh, blood vessels burst, and rotting entrails began congealing together as his body continued its erratic convulsions. Even with warped perception, this was so very far removed from anything that could remotely be described as enjoyable.
Wheezing, Hector was slowly losing the structure of his form, its foundation breaking apart each time he seized. At this point, his heart was pounding, body covered in sweat and blood as adrenaline coursed through his ravaged circulatory system. Broken limbs and mangled fingers twitched with the intensity of the trauma burning through him, unable to lift or bend properly. With nothing functional to grab upon, the young man's wilting, writhing muscles could not make his body move to his will any longer.
Thick, rotting blood oozed from wounds created as bone fragments lacerated tender flesh. His breathing was rapid and shallow, desperate determination drawn across what was left of the agonized boy’s face. Eyes glassy, wide and wild, Vergil noted how much the light behind the bright, crystalline lavender of his irises had dimmed. Despite bloodied tears, the vibrant flickering of Hector’s life remained buried deep within. Much as this was torment beyond comprehension, he'd endured countless traumas at the hands of Vitalitasi almost in preparation. While Vergil was rather restrained with him, others weren't. What would all of that have been for if he were to perish here? All of that pain traded for the pursuit of magical knowledge …and for what? No reward? Oblivion? Failure? No. His composure was broken, but his will remained as tempered steel.
Hector's mind had become a shattered mess from the torment, almost collapsing in on itself, whirlwind thoughts, agonizing pain, and general over stimulation. The young mage couldn't stop himself from crying or making noise, ranging from whimpers and agonized moans to a sick, bubbling gurgle as his body wilted further towards death. He took what little bits of solace he could from his mentor's touch, even if it burned like fire, sparking vibrant embers in its wake. Despite this cacophony, he desperately clung to life yet still.
The slithering tendrils of the Vitalis rune’s magic crept ever closer to Hector’s brain; it looked very nearly like the last of the boy’s petals were about to fall away, sickly and rotten. Vergil had remained knelt at the youth’s side this entire time with expressions ranging from empathetic, grimacing at the other’s extreme discomfort, to something of a growing concern. He felt sick, gripping his own knee with knuckles white, the other hand shakily floating near Hector's struggling body. By now, most initiates who planned on living would have wrested control of the power that razed within them. The corners of his lips twitched down; he frowned as thoughts raced in his head and his stomach dropped and began to feel hollow, pulse becoming rapid. Had he been wrong? It couldn’t be…Hector was ready, he had been so very sure of it. It was his word that had ensured this would even happen in the first place; he had been the one to convince and unite the others to grant this gift to the young mage. Vergil would never be able to forgive himself if the boy died here. He was ready, he was sure of it. Each moment felt eternal as Hector’s body continued to dissolve before his eyes. The vampyre wanted nothing more than to siphon away the elf's suffering, to help him, but at this point, it was still fully out of his hands.
It was so hard for Hector to focus. Every sensation was never ending and so…loud, so electric. Bright, blooming violence with a vibrance he’d never quite felt before coalesced with rotting pain and continued to sear through him, blinding his senses. It was so…hard…for him to focus. The aether of his soul flickered and kicked, flailing as it desperately clung to life, yelling out, begging him to overtake the hungry, burning power that ravaged him, to tame it and make it his own. His indomitable will had kept him alive thus far, but his shot focus was making it nigh impossible to command anything, much less that which was trying to consume him. He knew he was running out of time…he knew he had to do something, but in this storm of senses, everything was so very hard.
Then…finally, in one beautiful moment, he was able to grasp it. The rune…its power. Hector found an eye in the storm raging within him, and in that instant, he commanded a surging swell of his own aether and finally managed to eclipse the behemoth might of the power that’d grown so very fat from its ravenous feeding upon his vitality. All at once he felt the world stop around him– everything was magnificent and perfectly still, so completely divine.
Finally, in one infinite, perfect moment, the power of Vitalis was his.
All of the agony, this horrid experience, it had been worth it…he could rejoice, the power he’d so longingly sought after was his. Though his corporeal form had been utterly decimated, the broken man felt immensely powerful. Using this rush of strength, he let this newfound power wash over him, slowly soothing the pain and beginning the long regeneration of his sundered body. Hector’s shattered bone fragments began slowly fusing back together, sinew languidly binding muscle back into its proper place. As skin knit together and started to regain its hue, the boy whimpered softly in sweet relief. Vergil had finally let his held breath go, his own world spinning again. Hector would live…now, he could make sure of it.
Positioning closer to the ground, Vergil leaned closer and placed one hand gently over Hector’s cheek and the other on the side of his neck, thumb resting on the divot above his sternum.
“Don’t worry, Hector…For you, that was the worst of it. I’ll do everything I can to smooth over and quicken the process of this next part, I promise, I…I’ll make sure of it.” Vergil's voice was deeply relieved, threaded with warm affection and splattered with a rush of his own excitement alongside desperation to keep his young protege alive.
All Hector could offer in return was a delirious sort of grin, eyes bright again. While the elf knew what loomed around the corner, it didn't bother him…all he felt now was bliss blooming over the pain that yet lingered. Horrific as it would be, he had full faith the older vampyre would ferry him through that which lay ahead.
Continue Reading: The Color of Rebirth III
The tissue immediately surrounding the mark began to dry, slowly tightening against bone as it began to rot. Hector’s grip on his mentor tightened significantly as he coughed dark, decaying blood into the fabric of Vergil’s shirt, nose beginning to bleed in tandem to this. He could feel his organs beginning to wilt and shut down, whimpering as bones continued to break and muscles started to atrophy, sinew slowly beginning to dissolve. Gentle as a deer, Vergil placed his protege’s decaying body on the ground, laying him on his side to prevent him from choking unnecessarily. What little he could do for Hector’s comfort, he would.
The timing of this transition was rather good; shortly thereafter, the boy began to convulse as the magic dug its claws into the nerves that clung to his spine. The louder popping cracks of shattering bones quieted over the next few moments to a continuous sort of static crackling while his bones continued the excruciating process of grinding themselves to dust. Broken fragments of bone ripped through decaying flesh, blood vessels burst, and rotting entrails began congealing together as his body continued its erratic convulsions. Even with warped perception, this was so very far removed from anything that could remotely be described as enjoyable.
Wheezing, Hector was slowly losing the structure of his form, its foundation breaking apart each time he seized. At this point, his heart was pounding, body covered in sweat and blood as adrenaline coursed through his ravaged circulatory system. Broken limbs and mangled fingers twitched with the intensity of the trauma burning through him, unable to lift or bend properly. With nothing functional to grab upon, the young man's wilting, writhing muscles could not make his body move to his will any longer.
Thick, rotting blood oozed from wounds created as bone fragments lacerated tender flesh. His breathing was rapid and shallow, desperate determination drawn across what was left of the agonized boy’s face. Eyes glassy, wide and wild, Vergil noted how much the light behind the bright, crystalline lavender of his irises had dimmed. Despite bloodied tears, the vibrant flickering of Hector’s life remained buried deep within. Much as this was torment beyond comprehension, he'd endured countless traumas at the hands of Vitalitasi almost in preparation. While Vergil was rather restrained with him, others weren't. What would all of that have been for if he were to perish here? All of that pain traded for the pursuit of magical knowledge …and for what? No reward? Oblivion? Failure? No. His composure was broken, but his will remained as tempered steel.
Hector's mind had become a shattered mess from the torment, almost collapsing in on itself, whirlwind thoughts, agonizing pain, and general over stimulation. The young mage couldn't stop himself from crying or making noise, ranging from whimpers and agonized moans to a sick, bubbling gurgle as his body wilted further towards death. He took what little bits of solace he could from his mentor's touch, even if it burned like fire, sparking vibrant embers in its wake. Despite this cacophony, he desperately clung to life yet still.
The slithering tendrils of the Vitalis rune’s magic crept ever closer to Hector’s brain; it looked very nearly like the last of the boy’s petals were about to fall away, sickly and rotten. Vergil had remained knelt at the youth’s side this entire time with expressions ranging from empathetic, grimacing at the other’s extreme discomfort, to something of a growing concern. He felt sick, gripping his own knee with knuckles white, the other hand shakily floating near Hector's struggling body. By now, most initiates who planned on living would have wrested control of the power that razed within them. The corners of his lips twitched down; he frowned as thoughts raced in his head and his stomach dropped and began to feel hollow, pulse becoming rapid. Had he been wrong? It couldn’t be…Hector was ready, he had been so very sure of it. It was his word that had ensured this would even happen in the first place; he had been the one to convince and unite the others to grant this gift to the young mage. Vergil would never be able to forgive himself if the boy died here. He was ready, he was sure of it. Each moment felt eternal as Hector’s body continued to dissolve before his eyes. The vampyre wanted nothing more than to siphon away the elf's suffering, to help him, but at this point, it was still fully out of his hands.
It was so hard for Hector to focus. Every sensation was never ending and so…loud, so electric. Bright, blooming violence with a vibrance he’d never quite felt before coalesced with rotting pain and continued to sear through him, blinding his senses. It was so…hard…for him to focus. The aether of his soul flickered and kicked, flailing as it desperately clung to life, yelling out, begging him to overtake the hungry, burning power that ravaged him, to tame it and make it his own. His indomitable will had kept him alive thus far, but his shot focus was making it nigh impossible to command anything, much less that which was trying to consume him. He knew he was running out of time…he knew he had to do something, but in this storm of senses, everything was so very hard.
Then…finally, in one beautiful moment, he was able to grasp it. The rune…its power. Hector found an eye in the storm raging within him, and in that instant, he commanded a surging swell of his own aether and finally managed to eclipse the behemoth might of the power that’d grown so very fat from its ravenous feeding upon his vitality. All at once he felt the world stop around him– everything was magnificent and perfectly still, so completely divine.
Finally, in one infinite, perfect moment, the power of Vitalis was his.
All of the agony, this horrid experience, it had been worth it…he could rejoice, the power he’d so longingly sought after was his. Though his corporeal form had been utterly decimated, the broken man felt immensely powerful. Using this rush of strength, he let this newfound power wash over him, slowly soothing the pain and beginning the long regeneration of his sundered body. Hector’s shattered bone fragments began slowly fusing back together, sinew languidly binding muscle back into its proper place. As skin knit together and started to regain its hue, the boy whimpered softly in sweet relief. Vergil had finally let his held breath go, his own world spinning again. Hector would live…now, he could make sure of it.
Positioning closer to the ground, Vergil leaned closer and placed one hand gently over Hector’s cheek and the other on the side of his neck, thumb resting on the divot above his sternum.
“Don’t worry, Hector…For you, that was the worst of it. I’ll do everything I can to smooth over and quicken the process of this next part, I promise, I…I’ll make sure of it.” Vergil's voice was deeply relieved, threaded with warm affection and splattered with a rush of his own excitement alongside desperation to keep his young protege alive.
All Hector could offer in return was a delirious sort of grin, eyes bright again. While the elf knew what loomed around the corner, it didn't bother him…all he felt now was bliss blooming over the pain that yet lingered. Horrific as it would be, he had full faith the older vampyre would ferry him through that which lay ahead.
Continue Reading: The Color of Rebirth III
____
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"