TIMESTAMP:5 Calid March, 122
NOTES: -
NOTES: -
► Show Spoiler
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Some time in the evening, not quite dark yet, Vergil lay in a state of half dress. Bleeding and with perception warped via Hector’s Pheromancy, he wove in another cast of his own to keep himself relaxed and subdued through this process. The elven vampyre sat beside him, favoring most of his weight on one leg, leaning onto his hip. The two were in the older one’s room, mostly for comfort, as there wasn't any real concern in regards to staining the sheets red when one has the ability to freely manipulate blood.
With delicate fingers and oddly adroit skill given his total practice time, Hector wove strands of sinew thread together using a small handloom for the purpose of creating a strange, ethereal sort of cloth. Wordless, the fledgling Necromancer wrapped his mentor's injured liver in the eerie linen, stitched it in place, and upon tying off the final strand, it activated. Ether flashed and tissue was restored; the organ looked as it had prior to the damage dealt by his own hands.
The next step was to restore the muscle that had been cut away lest he leave a gaping wound in his companion's torso. This endeavor would require more of that ghostly cloth, so again, he gathered his sinew thread and went to work weaving the stuff. Ideally, one would bring with them pre-woven patches of cloth with their kit of tools as a traveling Necromancer; that, or if one was working out of a private office or hospital, it would save a lot of a patient's time to have ample supply on hand. In this case, Hector was instructed to make it as needed for any step wherein which it was required. Tedious, really, but in a pinch? The ability to do this quickly would be immensely useful.
Not a man who enjoys wasting time, the younger vampyre had become rather quick with this process. He'd done it before and was usually the one to make what stock they carried around with them in the first place. Repetition and practice reinforce a skill, and Vergil insisted that this was a necessary thing to master. Hector's lack of patience made him consider such methods tiring, but he'd really rather just learn to be faster than complain.
Though he could also just crutch through this with Blood Magic, that wasn't the point. Sometimes, you really cannot use Vitalis lest you put yourself in danger. Vergil was insistent that Hector learn to repair wounds in three ways: Blood Magic, Necromancy, and with no magic at all. The last one he thought was just silly, but some people are so afraid of magic that they'll refuse treatment even with Necromancy. The elf thought that these people ought to just perish because they were weak and simple minded, but oh well.
However, his natural impatience wasn't the only reason his movements appeared rushed. The elf wanted to return his touch to his companion, feel his warmth, the life that flowed within him. The other's presence brought him comfort by itself, yes, but such closeness with him brought on so much more. And so he wove the sinew threads with a focused swiftness in the room's warm, somber light, the only sound being that of his work.
Finally, he'd completed a swathe that was large enough to cover the chasm that had been created when muscle was cut away. Flesh had been rent cleanly, Hector taking great care to make this process as efficient and precise as he could. Each stitch binding cloth to muscle was just as exacting, leaving no gaps or irregularities. Tying off his work, the fabric thickened and took appropriate shape, texture and color all on its own, shifting by the command of the cells it had been sewn to and fueled by the aether innate to Necromantic tools. Vergil's musculature was taught and well toned, mimicked beautifully by sinew thread's magical nature.
Watching the cloth he'd sewn– smooth and the color of unbleached silk– warp into the warm, inviting reds of flesh was a beautiful sight from Hector's perception. The combination of admiration and desire he felt towards his mentor's body ran hot in his blood. Staring at the prone man in a situation like this caused the elf's thoughts to drift…if only for a moment. Quickly realizing he'd still work left to do, he snapped himself free from the allure of his daydreams and withdrew his hands from the site of the wound.
With organ and muscle repaired, the final step was to restore the older man's skin. The process by which this was accomplished was the same as before since all tissue repairs were done using the same method, no matter the type. Yet another reason why those who shun Necromancy are fools– the world magic allowed one to, quite literally, remake a body with enough skill and materials. Such a thing could not be done by mundane means.
Hector’s work continued at a similar pace to before, diligently weaving sinew thread into yet more cloth. Though he worked fast, time slipped by and it was now fairly late. Night had properly begun at the clock’s last chime, having marked the hour as ten not too long ago. When the elf had finished his last bit of weaving, Vergil had nearly fallen asleep; the tranquilizing magic used on him in combination with the hour had left him incredibly tired. Even the prick of the needle as his protege repaired the last of his wounds barely seemed to arouse any sort of reaction from the man.
When he’d finished, Hector gathered all of his tools and returned them to their proper place within his kit. Once that was accomplished, he returned to Vergil's side and laid down, resting his head atop the other's chest. Having placed a palm over his ribcage, Hector could feel the slow thrum of his heart. He could hear the rush of blood through his body and that alongside the warmth of his skin and the gentle rise and fall of his chest were infinitely soothing to the young vampyre.
Slowly, he slid his hand down from the firmness of his companion's chest to the relative softness of his belly. Hector opted to stay like this for a moment, just tracing various shapes onto the other's skin. But then, he gave the older man a squeeze 'round the contour of his waist, digging his nails into soft flesh yet lacking enough force to break skin.
"Vergil?" His voice was soft, not much more than murmur.
"...yes?" Though the magic cast on him had since waned, the level of simply tired he was caused this utterance to be just barely audible.
"Can I stay here tonight?"
At the question, Vergil shifted somewhat onto his side and pulled Hector into an affectionate embrace. "...of course," punctuating that sentiment with a kiss pressed atop the elf's head.
Happy to be held, Hector buried his face into his mentor's neck, pressing the bridge of his nose into the other's nape. With one hand resting against Vergil's chest, Hector slid the other along his shoulder, up his neck, and gently dragged a thumb over his ear before running fingers through his hair if only for the simple joy of touching the older vampyre.
While this alone brought the elf plenty of satisfaction, being surrounded so completely by Vergil's warmth, his strength, his scent, his entire being…stirred something within. Much as he wished he could just be happy with the platonic, with what they have, he wanted so much more. Of late, Hector found these thoughts harder to bury, constantly drifting to the surface even in more mundane situations, even in those wherein the man he coveted wasn't present. So here, now? He wanted Vergil so very badly.
Though his feelings regarding his mentor were initially an innocent combination of admiration, respect, affection and curiosity, over the time the two had known one another such things warped into something more akin to a captivated reverence. His affection shifted to love, and that love crossed the border of platonic to romantic some time around the end of his adolescence. Hector had considered himself delusional for almost the entirety of the time since, burying these feelings as much as he could…but then, they were forced to leave Zaichaer.
Everything that transpired since that fateful day pulled the two closer, cementing the love Hector held for the other in such a way that felt nigh irreversible. He actively refused to acknowledge the romantic nature of what he felt, but that did nothing to banish any of it. Certainly, the one time they'd spent interwoven with one another only served to strengthen the intimate nature of their bond as well.
Unfortunately, that had occurred while the two of them were quite thoroughly besotted and, as a result, Vergil felt a rather complex set of emotions after that night. The younger of the two very much wanted more encounters of that nature, but his lover had been rather silent on the subject ever since the morning after. The only thing he'd even said specifically about it was to apologize to Hector; this was something the elf absolutely did not understand.
Regardless, the position the pair were in harkened back to that night, causing Hector’s blood to run hot as memories mixed into more present desires. He wanted to be touched and kissed as he was before, to then go further, to let the other vampyre enjoy every aspect of him as he saw fit. At the same time, he wanted to make Vergil bleed, to taste every bit of him, to break him– to cause pain in ways that would burn white hot then contort into an irresistible, intoxicating form of pleasure. And in the end, he sought to have the larger man inside of him, to coax out his lover's release as they lay tangled together in an amalgam of flesh and blood.
Hector was oblivious to the fact that his fantasies had caused his heart to thrum like a bird's. This did not go unnoticed by Vergil. On the surface, it would be difficult to guess the cause, but with a vampyre’s senses, one would be hard pressed not to notice. The elf’s lust had reached a fever pitch and though he was still dressed, his scent was hard to miss. The way they were positioned didn’t help to conceal how he felt either; with legs tangled together, Vergil could easily feel the heat radiating from between his companion’s thighs. But…he did nothing about it.
In a trance state floating between reality and dreams, it would be difficult for him to pull himself properly awake in the first place. On top of that, he held a fair few reservations about moving their relationship in such a direction. It might seem nonsensical to try and walk it back at this point, but nonetheless, the nature of their initial relationship as well as when exactly they’d met made him feel a not inconsequential amount of guilt regarding the power dynamic they shared.
Much as he very much wanted to give Hector exactly what he desired, he felt like he shouldn't, and so on this night, he didn't. Before long, both of them ended up falling asleep. A shame, really, that they both were so avoidant about, at the very least, speaking to one another about how each felt.
With delicate fingers and oddly adroit skill given his total practice time, Hector wove strands of sinew thread together using a small handloom for the purpose of creating a strange, ethereal sort of cloth. Wordless, the fledgling Necromancer wrapped his mentor's injured liver in the eerie linen, stitched it in place, and upon tying off the final strand, it activated. Ether flashed and tissue was restored; the organ looked as it had prior to the damage dealt by his own hands.
The next step was to restore the muscle that had been cut away lest he leave a gaping wound in his companion's torso. This endeavor would require more of that ghostly cloth, so again, he gathered his sinew thread and went to work weaving the stuff. Ideally, one would bring with them pre-woven patches of cloth with their kit of tools as a traveling Necromancer; that, or if one was working out of a private office or hospital, it would save a lot of a patient's time to have ample supply on hand. In this case, Hector was instructed to make it as needed for any step wherein which it was required. Tedious, really, but in a pinch? The ability to do this quickly would be immensely useful.
Not a man who enjoys wasting time, the younger vampyre had become rather quick with this process. He'd done it before and was usually the one to make what stock they carried around with them in the first place. Repetition and practice reinforce a skill, and Vergil insisted that this was a necessary thing to master. Hector's lack of patience made him consider such methods tiring, but he'd really rather just learn to be faster than complain.
Though he could also just crutch through this with Blood Magic, that wasn't the point. Sometimes, you really cannot use Vitalis lest you put yourself in danger. Vergil was insistent that Hector learn to repair wounds in three ways: Blood Magic, Necromancy, and with no magic at all. The last one he thought was just silly, but some people are so afraid of magic that they'll refuse treatment even with Necromancy. The elf thought that these people ought to just perish because they were weak and simple minded, but oh well.
However, his natural impatience wasn't the only reason his movements appeared rushed. The elf wanted to return his touch to his companion, feel his warmth, the life that flowed within him. The other's presence brought him comfort by itself, yes, but such closeness with him brought on so much more. And so he wove the sinew threads with a focused swiftness in the room's warm, somber light, the only sound being that of his work.
Finally, he'd completed a swathe that was large enough to cover the chasm that had been created when muscle was cut away. Flesh had been rent cleanly, Hector taking great care to make this process as efficient and precise as he could. Each stitch binding cloth to muscle was just as exacting, leaving no gaps or irregularities. Tying off his work, the fabric thickened and took appropriate shape, texture and color all on its own, shifting by the command of the cells it had been sewn to and fueled by the aether innate to Necromantic tools. Vergil's musculature was taught and well toned, mimicked beautifully by sinew thread's magical nature.
Watching the cloth he'd sewn– smooth and the color of unbleached silk– warp into the warm, inviting reds of flesh was a beautiful sight from Hector's perception. The combination of admiration and desire he felt towards his mentor's body ran hot in his blood. Staring at the prone man in a situation like this caused the elf's thoughts to drift…if only for a moment. Quickly realizing he'd still work left to do, he snapped himself free from the allure of his daydreams and withdrew his hands from the site of the wound.
With organ and muscle repaired, the final step was to restore the older man's skin. The process by which this was accomplished was the same as before since all tissue repairs were done using the same method, no matter the type. Yet another reason why those who shun Necromancy are fools– the world magic allowed one to, quite literally, remake a body with enough skill and materials. Such a thing could not be done by mundane means.
Hector’s work continued at a similar pace to before, diligently weaving sinew thread into yet more cloth. Though he worked fast, time slipped by and it was now fairly late. Night had properly begun at the clock’s last chime, having marked the hour as ten not too long ago. When the elf had finished his last bit of weaving, Vergil had nearly fallen asleep; the tranquilizing magic used on him in combination with the hour had left him incredibly tired. Even the prick of the needle as his protege repaired the last of his wounds barely seemed to arouse any sort of reaction from the man.
When he’d finished, Hector gathered all of his tools and returned them to their proper place within his kit. Once that was accomplished, he returned to Vergil's side and laid down, resting his head atop the other's chest. Having placed a palm over his ribcage, Hector could feel the slow thrum of his heart. He could hear the rush of blood through his body and that alongside the warmth of his skin and the gentle rise and fall of his chest were infinitely soothing to the young vampyre.
Slowly, he slid his hand down from the firmness of his companion's chest to the relative softness of his belly. Hector opted to stay like this for a moment, just tracing various shapes onto the other's skin. But then, he gave the older man a squeeze 'round the contour of his waist, digging his nails into soft flesh yet lacking enough force to break skin.
"Vergil?" His voice was soft, not much more than murmur.
"...yes?" Though the magic cast on him had since waned, the level of simply tired he was caused this utterance to be just barely audible.
"Can I stay here tonight?"
At the question, Vergil shifted somewhat onto his side and pulled Hector into an affectionate embrace. "...of course," punctuating that sentiment with a kiss pressed atop the elf's head.
Happy to be held, Hector buried his face into his mentor's neck, pressing the bridge of his nose into the other's nape. With one hand resting against Vergil's chest, Hector slid the other along his shoulder, up his neck, and gently dragged a thumb over his ear before running fingers through his hair if only for the simple joy of touching the older vampyre.
While this alone brought the elf plenty of satisfaction, being surrounded so completely by Vergil's warmth, his strength, his scent, his entire being…stirred something within. Much as he wished he could just be happy with the platonic, with what they have, he wanted so much more. Of late, Hector found these thoughts harder to bury, constantly drifting to the surface even in more mundane situations, even in those wherein the man he coveted wasn't present. So here, now? He wanted Vergil so very badly.
Though his feelings regarding his mentor were initially an innocent combination of admiration, respect, affection and curiosity, over the time the two had known one another such things warped into something more akin to a captivated reverence. His affection shifted to love, and that love crossed the border of platonic to romantic some time around the end of his adolescence. Hector had considered himself delusional for almost the entirety of the time since, burying these feelings as much as he could…but then, they were forced to leave Zaichaer.
Everything that transpired since that fateful day pulled the two closer, cementing the love Hector held for the other in such a way that felt nigh irreversible. He actively refused to acknowledge the romantic nature of what he felt, but that did nothing to banish any of it. Certainly, the one time they'd spent interwoven with one another only served to strengthen the intimate nature of their bond as well.
Unfortunately, that had occurred while the two of them were quite thoroughly besotted and, as a result, Vergil felt a rather complex set of emotions after that night. The younger of the two very much wanted more encounters of that nature, but his lover had been rather silent on the subject ever since the morning after. The only thing he'd even said specifically about it was to apologize to Hector; this was something the elf absolutely did not understand.
Regardless, the position the pair were in harkened back to that night, causing Hector’s blood to run hot as memories mixed into more present desires. He wanted to be touched and kissed as he was before, to then go further, to let the other vampyre enjoy every aspect of him as he saw fit. At the same time, he wanted to make Vergil bleed, to taste every bit of him, to break him– to cause pain in ways that would burn white hot then contort into an irresistible, intoxicating form of pleasure. And in the end, he sought to have the larger man inside of him, to coax out his lover's release as they lay tangled together in an amalgam of flesh and blood.
Hector was oblivious to the fact that his fantasies had caused his heart to thrum like a bird's. This did not go unnoticed by Vergil. On the surface, it would be difficult to guess the cause, but with a vampyre’s senses, one would be hard pressed not to notice. The elf’s lust had reached a fever pitch and though he was still dressed, his scent was hard to miss. The way they were positioned didn’t help to conceal how he felt either; with legs tangled together, Vergil could easily feel the heat radiating from between his companion’s thighs. But…he did nothing about it.
In a trance state floating between reality and dreams, it would be difficult for him to pull himself properly awake in the first place. On top of that, he held a fair few reservations about moving their relationship in such a direction. It might seem nonsensical to try and walk it back at this point, but nonetheless, the nature of their initial relationship as well as when exactly they’d met made him feel a not inconsequential amount of guilt regarding the power dynamic they shared.
Much as he very much wanted to give Hector exactly what he desired, he felt like he shouldn't, and so on this night, he didn't. Before long, both of them ended up falling asleep. A shame, really, that they both were so avoidant about, at the very least, speaking to one another about how each felt.
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Aidolon Speech
'Thoughts'
"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
