The sveinn's features remained largely cordial, but he did offer Cælum a brief, wan smile when the dragon implied he'd rather remain entirely ignorant about the procedure.
"Worry not– you'll be sound asleep the entire time," he said reassuringly. "But first, would you please change into this?"
The sveinn would then proffer a surgical gown to Cælum, as trying to operate around the dragon's own clothing would be a bit of an unnecessary nuisance, especially given the complexity of the procedure. The sveinn would step back from the door and allow the dragon to close it and change within the privacy of his room, waiting in the hall for the man to reemerge whensoever he was ready.
And once he did, the sveinn nodded down the hall, "...this way, then."
To Cælum, Själasalr's halls might come across as mazelike, but they did not need to wander through the dimly lit– though immaculately decorated– wooden corridors for long. He would be led into a surgical suite, wherein Velho was already waiting for them.
"He said he had no questions," the sveinn said to Velho. "...and that he'd like the Crux in his chest; I imagine not dissimilar to a Boggart's."
"...excellent, thank you; you may go," Velho responded to the sveinn, who nodded and then took their leave.
"Cælum, lay down here," he'd say now with his attention set upon his patient. The Maltrician would then gesture to the forming bench, one large enough to accommodate even the tallest Æld'Norai. It looked elaborate and perhaps a bit macabre if Cælum had never seen such a thing before– though he would've if he'd ever been to a Maltrician proper in the past.
And once Cælum did so, Velho had one more instruction, "...please drink this. It'll make sure you stay asleep the entire time."
He'd then offer his patient a small wooden cup with what looked, and smelled, like a black, herbal tea within it. Which, for the most part, it was– Velho had just previously mixed a small amount of Pathos in it containing the Bane of Sopor. Such a Bane would do exactly as he'd described: keep Cælum locked into a deep slumber for up to three days, or until Velho Allayed it. And such a Bane was fast acting. Shortly after Cælum consumed it, he'd be overcome with drowsiness, soon falling asleep upon the forming bench.
Now alone and with his patient unconscious, Velho could begin the surgery proper. Cælum, in his humanoid form, was about the same height as Æhti but not nearly so broad. The Inari from whom he'd already harvested the Crux organ from was quite a bit smaller, though such a thing would not be an issue– the difference was not so extreme that the organ needed to be resized, at least.
In order to make sure he didn't stress his spell reserves, Velho preferred to start his surgeries as mundanely as possible, utilizing mostly Malediction until such a thing became inconvenient or if the patient's vitals destabilized. And luckily for both him and his patients, his Lifesight allowed him to keep an eye on such vitals without any additional equipment.
Once the surgical gown was moved out of the way, Velho's first step was to cut an incision down the length of the sternum. To avoid excess bleeding, he staunched the blood flow along the incision with Malediction's hemostasis techniques before moving on to cut the sternum. But for that, he preferred to use a tool he'd made in the past– a strange, deep red knife sculpted of his own blood and crystallized, then shaped, through his Hemomancy. It was far more elegant than any other bonesaw he could find, and he could actively maintain its consummate sharpness through use of his own magic. Taking great care to monitor the pressure he used, he sliced downward, cutting the sternum in half.
Once the sternum had been cut, Velho would then put the tool down. With a quick gesture and a muttered incantation to add additional layers of Sovereignty, he gently prised apart the ribs and locked them in place with a minor cast of Vicissitude. The Devorari found rib spreading tools to be somewhat clumsy, brutish, unwieldy and often damaging. Having to heal potentially broken ribs or torn flesh resulting from their use was a pain. That, and such a minor cast barely dented his spell reserves.
Now that Cælum's beating heart was exposed to the open air, Velho would then collect a pair of small tongs, reach into the Saol-infused container which housed the Seeming Crux, and pluck the organ from the liquid within. It wasn't a large organ, about the size of a kidney, and so it was easy enough to nestle it in between his lungs, right beside his steady-beating heart.
The actual difficult part was what came next. The Crux was not an organ in the traditional sense, rather, it was a bundle of nerves, and these nerves needed to be threaded throughout Cælum's body in order to ensure a uniform Transfiguration when used, or that the Saol shifted the right parts when enacting Chimerism and the like. If he missed a spot, that part of the body would not properly shift and the results could be…grotesque. This was a monumentally onerous task normally, but for Velho, he had a unique advantage: Devorare. He would not have to manually unwind the nerve fibres and thread them through his patient with tools, no– he could will the organ to effectively do that itself through spellcasting. Now, this still required him to map the nerves correctly, but it would certainly save a lot of time and diminish the risk to his patient monumentally.
Velho held his hands above Cælum's chest and began to cant in order to make the most use of Sovereignty. His words would sound like a prayer, but at the same time nothing at all; like a man speaking softly in tongues. The Crux, bundle of nerves that it was, began to glow, slowly unwinding like a possessed spool of yarn, several different threads beginning to weave their way throughout his body at once. He repeated that process several times, weaving the organ into his patient in layers– throughout the torso, the neck, the head, into each limb. He was very, painfully, thorough. But once done, he flooded the Crux itself with as much Saol as he could manage without invoking Mageburn from Invigorate, forcing it to integrate into Cælum's body.
The next to last step was to shift his incantation to Allay, cleaning away any Pathos from bacteria that may have entered his wounds. It would be a fool's mistake to not sanitize Cælum in order to ensure his good health. That done, he utilized Vicissitude again with a similar, yet distinct, eldritch chant to close the dragon's ribcage and then weave his flesh together once more. Looking down at him, one would never guess Velho had just spent the past several hours weaving nerve fibres through the man, or even that he'd been cut open at all.
Finally, he'd whisper one more incantation, one more syllable, to Allay his Bane of Sopor. Cælum would regain his senses over the next few minutes, and once he appeared alert enough, Velho would ask, "...how do you feel?"
Of course, he could see that his patient's vitals were bright and clear, but he always asked anyway.
"Worry not– you'll be sound asleep the entire time," he said reassuringly. "But first, would you please change into this?"
The sveinn would then proffer a surgical gown to Cælum, as trying to operate around the dragon's own clothing would be a bit of an unnecessary nuisance, especially given the complexity of the procedure. The sveinn would step back from the door and allow the dragon to close it and change within the privacy of his room, waiting in the hall for the man to reemerge whensoever he was ready.
And once he did, the sveinn nodded down the hall, "...this way, then."
To Cælum, Själasalr's halls might come across as mazelike, but they did not need to wander through the dimly lit– though immaculately decorated– wooden corridors for long. He would be led into a surgical suite, wherein Velho was already waiting for them.
"He said he had no questions," the sveinn said to Velho. "...and that he'd like the Crux in his chest; I imagine not dissimilar to a Boggart's."
"...excellent, thank you; you may go," Velho responded to the sveinn, who nodded and then took their leave.
"Cælum, lay down here," he'd say now with his attention set upon his patient. The Maltrician would then gesture to the forming bench, one large enough to accommodate even the tallest Æld'Norai. It looked elaborate and perhaps a bit macabre if Cælum had never seen such a thing before– though he would've if he'd ever been to a Maltrician proper in the past.
And once Cælum did so, Velho had one more instruction, "...please drink this. It'll make sure you stay asleep the entire time."
He'd then offer his patient a small wooden cup with what looked, and smelled, like a black, herbal tea within it. Which, for the most part, it was– Velho had just previously mixed a small amount of Pathos in it containing the Bane of Sopor. Such a Bane would do exactly as he'd described: keep Cælum locked into a deep slumber for up to three days, or until Velho Allayed it. And such a Bane was fast acting. Shortly after Cælum consumed it, he'd be overcome with drowsiness, soon falling asleep upon the forming bench.
Now alone and with his patient unconscious, Velho could begin the surgery proper. Cælum, in his humanoid form, was about the same height as Æhti but not nearly so broad. The Inari from whom he'd already harvested the Crux organ from was quite a bit smaller, though such a thing would not be an issue– the difference was not so extreme that the organ needed to be resized, at least.
In order to make sure he didn't stress his spell reserves, Velho preferred to start his surgeries as mundanely as possible, utilizing mostly Malediction until such a thing became inconvenient or if the patient's vitals destabilized. And luckily for both him and his patients, his Lifesight allowed him to keep an eye on such vitals without any additional equipment.
Once the surgical gown was moved out of the way, Velho's first step was to cut an incision down the length of the sternum. To avoid excess bleeding, he staunched the blood flow along the incision with Malediction's hemostasis techniques before moving on to cut the sternum. But for that, he preferred to use a tool he'd made in the past– a strange, deep red knife sculpted of his own blood and crystallized, then shaped, through his Hemomancy. It was far more elegant than any other bonesaw he could find, and he could actively maintain its consummate sharpness through use of his own magic. Taking great care to monitor the pressure he used, he sliced downward, cutting the sternum in half.
Once the sternum had been cut, Velho would then put the tool down. With a quick gesture and a muttered incantation to add additional layers of Sovereignty, he gently prised apart the ribs and locked them in place with a minor cast of Vicissitude. The Devorari found rib spreading tools to be somewhat clumsy, brutish, unwieldy and often damaging. Having to heal potentially broken ribs or torn flesh resulting from their use was a pain. That, and such a minor cast barely dented his spell reserves.
Now that Cælum's beating heart was exposed to the open air, Velho would then collect a pair of small tongs, reach into the Saol-infused container which housed the Seeming Crux, and pluck the organ from the liquid within. It wasn't a large organ, about the size of a kidney, and so it was easy enough to nestle it in between his lungs, right beside his steady-beating heart.
The actual difficult part was what came next. The Crux was not an organ in the traditional sense, rather, it was a bundle of nerves, and these nerves needed to be threaded throughout Cælum's body in order to ensure a uniform Transfiguration when used, or that the Saol shifted the right parts when enacting Chimerism and the like. If he missed a spot, that part of the body would not properly shift and the results could be…grotesque. This was a monumentally onerous task normally, but for Velho, he had a unique advantage: Devorare. He would not have to manually unwind the nerve fibres and thread them through his patient with tools, no– he could will the organ to effectively do that itself through spellcasting. Now, this still required him to map the nerves correctly, but it would certainly save a lot of time and diminish the risk to his patient monumentally.
Velho held his hands above Cælum's chest and began to cant in order to make the most use of Sovereignty. His words would sound like a prayer, but at the same time nothing at all; like a man speaking softly in tongues. The Crux, bundle of nerves that it was, began to glow, slowly unwinding like a possessed spool of yarn, several different threads beginning to weave their way throughout his body at once. He repeated that process several times, weaving the organ into his patient in layers– throughout the torso, the neck, the head, into each limb. He was very, painfully, thorough. But once done, he flooded the Crux itself with as much Saol as he could manage without invoking Mageburn from Invigorate, forcing it to integrate into Cælum's body.
The next to last step was to shift his incantation to Allay, cleaning away any Pathos from bacteria that may have entered his wounds. It would be a fool's mistake to not sanitize Cælum in order to ensure his good health. That done, he utilized Vicissitude again with a similar, yet distinct, eldritch chant to close the dragon's ribcage and then weave his flesh together once more. Looking down at him, one would never guess Velho had just spent the past several hours weaving nerve fibres through the man, or even that he'd been cut open at all.
Finally, he'd whisper one more incantation, one more syllable, to Allay his Bane of Sopor. Cælum would regain his senses over the next few minutes, and once he appeared alert enough, Velho would ask, "...how do you feel?"
Of course, he could see that his patient's vitals were bright and clear, but he always asked anyway.
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