TIMESTAMP: 14 Frost, 122
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NOTES: -
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Having now traversed it, if only for this brief beat, he now wanted to find further ways to eventually explore it…though doing so safely would take some future thinking and research on his part. When he found himself back in his body, eyes opening and adjusting to the electric lights of the room, he felt a palpable mix of both relief and disappointment. He was relieved that he'd succeeded, that he'd keep his ties to his corporal form, but…in some ways it saddened him to be back on the material plane.
Unaware of this internal conflict, Adelade smiled at him, expression bright. "Success! And you were quite an easy one to guide, too." How many times had she done this?
"How do you feel…?" Her gaze was a discerning one, peering now into Vergil's Aura, a bit unstable now from having a new rune implanted onto it.
"Well enough, though I imagine the full weight of threshold sickness will impose itself upon me soon. Would it not be best that I head out sooner as opposed to later…?" He could feel pressure building a bit in his head.
Vergil had no magics aside from Vitalis, an initiation that was altogether eldritch when compared to most. He wasn't quite sure what to expect from a more standard initiation, really. He'd read about it, and he'd asked around, Hector included, as the boy bore two additional runes himself. But even so, the accounts of others is not quite the same as experiencing anything first-hand.
"Hmm…yes, and I don't see anything particularly anomalous in your aether. Yours is hardy, by all appearances. There should be somebody either outside this room or at the exit of this floor waiting for you, though– in case it does hit you hard all of the sudden, you'll have an escort home." She'd made herself sound deliberately reassuring.
"Full glad am I for that– collapsing in the street would be, ah…unideal, should I struggle to manage my symptoms on the way back," he laughed, albeit awkwardly.
"It's been a pleasure," he continued, bidding Adelaide farewell.
"On my end as well," she replied.
True to what she'd said, there was a lesser ranking Inquisitor not far from the room he'd been in to serve as an escort, riding along with him on his way back to his apartment. Further symptoms had begun to set in, though once they'd arrived, Vergil insisted he could manage himself from there. He felt he'd be fine to walk up the requisite sets of stairs, and he was, though it ended up being more of a struggle than he considered ideal.
Vergil’s initiation was only projected to take but a few hours; it wasn't intended to be some drawn out affair. Hector knew this, and so he knew that the time be would be forced to be both without Vergil and concerned for the man's safety, ultimately, would not be long. As such, it would, in theory, be easy enough for him to find something to do to distract himself with for the duration of this process. Emphasis on, 'in theory.' Of course, Hector, not really being the best at managing his own emotions, did not succeed in this regard.
He did, however, prepare a reasonable array of apothecarial remedies; though his memories of why exactly he knew these things were locked, Vergil had told him he'd grown up the child of an apothecary and doctor, and that it was them who'd taught him near to all of his knowledge on the subject of botany, herbal remedies, the like. In putting these things together, he felt a strange sense of nostalgia he was wholly unable to properly identify. It was a weird feeling and he didn't like it, but what was there that could be done? The answer likely lay within the parts of his mind that had been suppressed.
Nonetheless, this task was both started and completed prior to Vergil's return. With nothing else to do, Hector found himself struggling to suppress rising panic. What if something went wrong and Vergil had become lost in the Aetherium, or perhaps something tore at his aether, causing a greater disruption, and thus far worse, or fatal, threshold sickness?
In a desperate bid to distract himself, the boy opted to spend some time adopting different aspects of the one animal shape he'd taken since gaining Animism. His pigeon shape was a strange thing, but he found himself quite liking it once he'd learnt some semblance of an ability regarding flight. Further, he'd noticed some strange quirks he was able to do that others with the same rune could not.
Out of curiosity, he'd tried to use something of Vergil's as a totem, though he was told that a new animist wouldn't be able to mimic another mortal. And yet strangely, this had worked, but Hector had only gained one thing– the other's voice. Further curiosity compelled him to repeat this, and so he stole the voice of another– a friend of his. Eventually, he managed to use these totems to morph his face into theirs, though that bit had taken quite a bit more practice.
He was able to keep his mind occupied like this for a while, but eventually, he found his worry becoming truly overwhelming. Yet luckily, just as the rapidfire, worried thoughts began to spin in the boy's mind, there was a sound at the door. Not a knock, per se, but it sounded like somebody had either fallen onto the door or leaned heavily against it. Hector knew that Vergil would be unwell, wracked with the array of symptoms threshold sickness' malaise generally caused, but he thought that the other would've been escorted all the way back. And while this did startle Hector, he immediately got up from the sofa and opened the door.
"I thought you weren't supposed to be alone…??" Hector's voice sounded almost aghast, staring at the sorry state his partner was in. In this scenario, the boy only blinked with the inner eyelids he liked to manifest from his pigeon shape; such a thing allowed him to do so without losing vision, though he would sometimes use both out of habit.
Vergil, leaning still onto the door for support, "...I wasn't, but I let my escort stay in the car– figured I…wouldn't need help climbing stairs." The delivery of these words made the man wince.
Vergil could be stubborn in some ways, and this was one of them; he believed himself capable and did not like to show weakness. This pride in his abilities increased further in Hector's presence, and that bit was part of why he'd refused to be accompanied all the way up. And though he did struggle, he was right enough; he was full well capable of climbing stairs.
Hector looked a combination of relieved and annoyed, embracing the other, and offering him support upon closure of the door. Were Hector not a vampyr himself, supporting Vergil would've been a monumental task– the man was really rather heavy, but through the innate boons provided by the magic itself and a combination of further enhancements by way of Vicissitude and Necromancy provided by Vergil, Hector was far, far stronger than he looked.
On the other end, Vergil felt infinitely weaker than he normally was, and though he tried to hold himself up as much as he could, Hector was forced to bear the brunt of his weight as the two of them made their way to Vergil's bedroom. The larger man landed with a heavy sort of thud, stressing the frame of his bed, and said frame had already been reinforced to accommodate for how heavy he was on top of a few other factors. The ailing man groaned, pulling himself to be more centered on the mattress and then rolling onto his back.
"You said, ah…you said you had retention of botanic knowledge, yeah? What you learned as an apothecary student?" The questions were asked through a painfully strained voice.
Vergil wouldn't outright admit it, but he really was in terrible pain. His head was pounding, his muscles were struggling to lift their own weight along with the weight of the rest of his body, he felt nauseated, disoriented, and so on; like there was a foggy storm in his head and his body chained up and weighed down by lead.
Unaware of this internal conflict, Adelade smiled at him, expression bright. "Success! And you were quite an easy one to guide, too." How many times had she done this?
"How do you feel…?" Her gaze was a discerning one, peering now into Vergil's Aura, a bit unstable now from having a new rune implanted onto it.
"Well enough, though I imagine the full weight of threshold sickness will impose itself upon me soon. Would it not be best that I head out sooner as opposed to later…?" He could feel pressure building a bit in his head.
Vergil had no magics aside from Vitalis, an initiation that was altogether eldritch when compared to most. He wasn't quite sure what to expect from a more standard initiation, really. He'd read about it, and he'd asked around, Hector included, as the boy bore two additional runes himself. But even so, the accounts of others is not quite the same as experiencing anything first-hand.
"Hmm…yes, and I don't see anything particularly anomalous in your aether. Yours is hardy, by all appearances. There should be somebody either outside this room or at the exit of this floor waiting for you, though– in case it does hit you hard all of the sudden, you'll have an escort home." She'd made herself sound deliberately reassuring.
"Full glad am I for that– collapsing in the street would be, ah…unideal, should I struggle to manage my symptoms on the way back," he laughed, albeit awkwardly.
"It's been a pleasure," he continued, bidding Adelaide farewell.
"On my end as well," she replied.
True to what she'd said, there was a lesser ranking Inquisitor not far from the room he'd been in to serve as an escort, riding along with him on his way back to his apartment. Further symptoms had begun to set in, though once they'd arrived, Vergil insisted he could manage himself from there. He felt he'd be fine to walk up the requisite sets of stairs, and he was, though it ended up being more of a struggle than he considered ideal.
---
Vergil’s initiation was only projected to take but a few hours; it wasn't intended to be some drawn out affair. Hector knew this, and so he knew that the time be would be forced to be both without Vergil and concerned for the man's safety, ultimately, would not be long. As such, it would, in theory, be easy enough for him to find something to do to distract himself with for the duration of this process. Emphasis on, 'in theory.' Of course, Hector, not really being the best at managing his own emotions, did not succeed in this regard.
He did, however, prepare a reasonable array of apothecarial remedies; though his memories of why exactly he knew these things were locked, Vergil had told him he'd grown up the child of an apothecary and doctor, and that it was them who'd taught him near to all of his knowledge on the subject of botany, herbal remedies, the like. In putting these things together, he felt a strange sense of nostalgia he was wholly unable to properly identify. It was a weird feeling and he didn't like it, but what was there that could be done? The answer likely lay within the parts of his mind that had been suppressed.
Nonetheless, this task was both started and completed prior to Vergil's return. With nothing else to do, Hector found himself struggling to suppress rising panic. What if something went wrong and Vergil had become lost in the Aetherium, or perhaps something tore at his aether, causing a greater disruption, and thus far worse, or fatal, threshold sickness?
In a desperate bid to distract himself, the boy opted to spend some time adopting different aspects of the one animal shape he'd taken since gaining Animism. His pigeon shape was a strange thing, but he found himself quite liking it once he'd learnt some semblance of an ability regarding flight. Further, he'd noticed some strange quirks he was able to do that others with the same rune could not.
Out of curiosity, he'd tried to use something of Vergil's as a totem, though he was told that a new animist wouldn't be able to mimic another mortal. And yet strangely, this had worked, but Hector had only gained one thing– the other's voice. Further curiosity compelled him to repeat this, and so he stole the voice of another– a friend of his. Eventually, he managed to use these totems to morph his face into theirs, though that bit had taken quite a bit more practice.
He was able to keep his mind occupied like this for a while, but eventually, he found his worry becoming truly overwhelming. Yet luckily, just as the rapidfire, worried thoughts began to spin in the boy's mind, there was a sound at the door. Not a knock, per se, but it sounded like somebody had either fallen onto the door or leaned heavily against it. Hector knew that Vergil would be unwell, wracked with the array of symptoms threshold sickness' malaise generally caused, but he thought that the other would've been escorted all the way back. And while this did startle Hector, he immediately got up from the sofa and opened the door.
"I thought you weren't supposed to be alone…??" Hector's voice sounded almost aghast, staring at the sorry state his partner was in. In this scenario, the boy only blinked with the inner eyelids he liked to manifest from his pigeon shape; such a thing allowed him to do so without losing vision, though he would sometimes use both out of habit.
Vergil, leaning still onto the door for support, "...I wasn't, but I let my escort stay in the car– figured I…wouldn't need help climbing stairs." The delivery of these words made the man wince.
Vergil could be stubborn in some ways, and this was one of them; he believed himself capable and did not like to show weakness. This pride in his abilities increased further in Hector's presence, and that bit was part of why he'd refused to be accompanied all the way up. And though he did struggle, he was right enough; he was full well capable of climbing stairs.
Hector looked a combination of relieved and annoyed, embracing the other, and offering him support upon closure of the door. Were Hector not a vampyr himself, supporting Vergil would've been a monumental task– the man was really rather heavy, but through the innate boons provided by the magic itself and a combination of further enhancements by way of Vicissitude and Necromancy provided by Vergil, Hector was far, far stronger than he looked.
On the other end, Vergil felt infinitely weaker than he normally was, and though he tried to hold himself up as much as he could, Hector was forced to bear the brunt of his weight as the two of them made their way to Vergil's bedroom. The larger man landed with a heavy sort of thud, stressing the frame of his bed, and said frame had already been reinforced to accommodate for how heavy he was on top of a few other factors. The ailing man groaned, pulling himself to be more centered on the mattress and then rolling onto his back.
"You said, ah…you said you had retention of botanic knowledge, yeah? What you learned as an apothecary student?" The questions were asked through a painfully strained voice.
Vergil wouldn't outright admit it, but he really was in terrible pain. His head was pounding, his muscles were struggling to lift their own weight along with the weight of the rest of his body, he felt nauseated, disoriented, and so on; like there was a foggy storm in his head and his body chained up and weighed down by lead.
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Aidolon Speech
'Thoughts'
"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"