Closed In Search of Succor

[Velho]

༺༉❁ November 17 year 19,835 of the second age ❁༉༻
<notes>

Velho was, for all intents and purposes, a brilliant Ferrier. There was only one problem: his mastery thereof came along with all of the crippling downsides of the black seed that powered it. His body required quite a lot of upkeep in order to keep it functioning to any real degree, so much so that he regularly relied upon other Æcturnis to help mend him when he himself was too weak.

So it was that when he pleaded with his mother to help him search for something that would give him some relief, anything that would lessen the upkeep of his body, grant him a modicum of independence back, he was faced with two choices:

One: Let go of the last remnants of his vanity and exist as a rotting, wrinkled husk; a lot of his excessive upkeep was, at least in part, aesthetic.

Two: Take on another Blight; Devorare or Rusalka.​

The first carried less risk to it, but was…ultimately something he did not want to do. Velho did not enjoy how he felt when he let the decay set in; he wasn't a fan of the smell or the aesthetics thereof, either. The second required him to survive one of their initiations, something that was questionable given his constitution. Even so, he stated he wanted to go with option two, and of those Blights, Devorare appealed to him more– he'd always envied their Hemomancy and Vicissitude ever since he was informed of their existence.

Unfortunately that meant carefully choosing an appropriate Sire, as his mother had Rusalka, but not Devorare. And after thinking about it, the both of them decided upon one of her underlings: an Inari by the name of Yonakouchi. Of course, she and Velho had never met, but Hespæride insisted she was both trustworthy and skilled with the craft. Further, she had the Inari's Ball– Velho would be safe from her if for no other reason than that.

It was decided that the two would, of course, meet first– establishing something of a rapport would ease the process, they thought. Hespæride would herself attend for at least part of it. And for such a meeting, she requested that both Yonakouchi and her son arrive at her home on a particular date and time:
17 November at 23:00.

The manor home of Hespæride was a strange thing– somebody with a keen eye might be able to parse that it was an interesting combination of the marshlog tree's root system to seamlessly grow into the wetlands below, the Ælheim sequoia for stability, strength and size, inlaid with Ætumetal for further structural integrity and finally, the wisteria tree whose glimmering purple flowers lit up the tree's boughs like stars in the night sky. It was an enormous, sprawling estate that could likely house a small village all on its own, and its grounds were littered with smatterings of glowing purple and green flora woven together to illuminate the swamp's tenebrous gloom. Sprinkled throughout were also poppies and a few other flowers of warmer colors, though there were much less of them. But one shouldn't wander off the rootwork paths and bridges…Hespæride keeps a fair few exotic pets and allows them to freely roam the grounds. And to that end, guests were met with a guard at the gate who would escort them safely to the manse's front door.

Velho arrived early, always a bit concerned that the slowness his condition afflicted him with would make him late to things. The guards at the gate recognized him immediately, escorting him through the gardens at the front of the manse and then through its grandiose, ornately decorated double doors. And given that this was his childhood, family home, he was then left to make his own way from the lobby to the sitting room his mother had informed him the meeting would take place in. His mother was already there, for she knew her son, and knew that he'd likely arrive a tad on the early side.

Upon clapping eyes on her boy, she got up immediately and dashed over to him– fast as a woman in elaborate skirts could manage to do so, that is. She was dressed immaculately in greens and blacks with purple accents, hair tied up and adorned with complex, Ensorcelled Grimlocks. A lot of her jewelry were Artifacts in their own right, but each seamlessly blended in with what mundane accessories she also wore.

"Please, mother– I can walk on my own, I–" Velho attempted to protest.

…but he was swiftly interrupted. "Nonsense! Look at you! You're falling apart!" Hespæride sounded appalled.

And upon placing a hand on his shoulder, Velho shut up completely; the relief of her Invigoration was not something he was stubborn enough to say no to.

"Come, then; we'll sit over here," she continued.

He sighed, slightly embarrassed. Part of him had wanted to sit apart for the purpose of meeting a stranger, but Velho was notably obsequious in the presence of his mother. He didn't argue this, acquiescing and following her to the dark wood carved settee, upholstered in plush, deep green velvet. There, the two of them would wait for Yonakouchi's arrival.

 

[Haruspex]

˗ˋˏ ◜ ♡ ◝ ˎ´˗
ꘜ‿︵‿ꘜ
November 17th, Year 19,835
︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶꒦
▲‿▲

Yonakouchi had watched the son of Hesperide for nigh a century now. She was one lady or another, sometimes a man servant. Always, with the qualities he sought for the role; similar to the last, because of course, she was the same person.

In Hespæria, there was no shortage of prey and faces to wear for Yonakouchi, and she appreciated the leisure of not needing to fear the ælves. All of this busy work seemed like a small price to pay.

Nothing would come between her and this arrangement. Nothing.

. . .

There was something violating about what Hesperide had commanded of her. She had given the woman her Inari's Ball, and that meant she could not resist

The guards had not been told of her arrival. They did not need to be. She arrived as a misting, cool fog, a breeze flowing through windows. All that she was began to bleed over the couch across from the great bog witch and her son. Coalescing, the mist gathered, forming a pile of black sludge that congealed slowly, patiently with no sense for hurry. After quite awhile, it took the form of a woman, and her features emerged from the black, an arm raised over the back of the settee.

Her Seeming was recognizable, a Fælnir girl by the name of Dæluri with raven black hair, always raven black hair. Often she wore spectacles, to convey a smudge of intelligence. Tucked under her arm was a journal, although its pages were empty. With a Fae mind, she could remember most everything told to her in the last eight days.

Maybe it was a betrayal to Velho when her heel bounced slowly just above the wooden floor, sitting there with one leg over the other, the black feathers on her robes glinting in the light. She was in service to him, even now. His receptionist. Come to think of it, there had always been something odd about her Life Force, as if it was more swollen in spite of the pallor of her skin.

"Velho. Hesperide," said the witch Dæluri, her voice notably colder as her eyes locked to them each.

There was a pause. Her breasts rose and fell, a sigh indiating an overdue explanation.
"I have come at your mother's call, Velho. She is my patron, as I have never been to you what I might have Seemed to be, at her direction. We have known each other for almost a century, but at that same time we have not."

In the blink of an eye, with such a suddennes that it hurt the brain to sort out, the human girl was replaced with a fox in that same black robe, which was now far too big for her. Several black tails fanned out from her body, gently swaying in the light, grey and black fur broken up only by those icy blue eyes with an ethereal glow behind them.

"I am Yonakouchi, I am many things, and I am very old. I am also a Devorare." She spoke frankly due to her own boiling agitation - she did not want to be here, and to take on a Childe was a personal thing, not commonly forced. So she did not pad her words, yet there was a smoothness to her lilting voice that betrayed the sickening danger behind such a monster.

 

[Velho]

༺༉❁ November 17 year 19,835 of the second age ❁༉༻
<notes>

When the mist that was their guest agitated the curtains of the room's one open window, both parties within noticed her presence. Hespæride's manor was elaborately adorned with Glyphics that would otherwise prevent the intrusion of Apparators, but knowing exactly whom it was she had been expecting, the witch had left a window ajar for precisely this purpose. And once Yonakouchi began to manifest, the window slid shut; Hespæride had full control of every aspect of the building's architecture, for she had grown the tree and shaped it all herself.

Once the young woman took shape from the fog, the witch did not look the least bit surprised or off-put. On the other hand, Velho had confusion writ large all over his features. Hespæride had, in a word, neglected to inform her son of the fact that he'd known his would-be Sire for quite some time. She'd made this choice deliberately. Velho was not naïve; he'd always been under the impression that his mother kept eyes on him in some form or another, though he could never be quite certain the extent of it– he certainly wasn't a fan of this, but there wasn't a thing he could proffer in protest.

He'd realized what Dæluri was in a moment, for the context implied it as soon as she'd made manifest. His mother had told him his would-be Sire was an Inari, a trusted vassal, so it followed that the girl before him was the skin of one long gone, skin worn like a veil by the vixen beneath. This hypothesis was confirmed mere moments later when her figure abruptly changed; in the Fælnir girl's place now sat a fox.

Velho's expression remained blank, but there was a tenseness to his posture that his mother picked up on– this revelation vexed him. The witch was also capable of reading agitation that writhed within Yonakouchi, in part because of how long they'd known one another, and in part because of how generally adept she was at reading others; both parts only made clearer to her by the nature of being Rusalka.

And she did not care about either of them being bothered.

If Velho desired Devorare, a Blight that tied creator to progeny, then his Sire simply must be one over whom she held sway. They must also be more than competent with the craft, and so, pragmatically, this arrangement was the most ideal– the feelings of those involved be damned.

Hespæride smiled broadly, almost saccharine in appearance, but yet still sincerely, and gave a small wave to her guest in greeting. She did, genuinely, adore Yonakouchi; because while her ego did not allow for her to view any other living soul as a peer per se, she did hold respect and affection towards the vixen in her own unique way. The Inari's displeasure in this arrangement was an unfortunate, but ultimately feasible, price to pay.

"Full glad am I to see you, Yonakouchi," the witch spoke despite the brusqueness of the other.

There was a moment of pause.

"Well, Velho? Cat got your tongue? I won't speak for you, here," Hespæride broke the silence.

Velho startled, blinking to regain his senses, jarred out of the thick, tarry malaise that had overcome his thoughts.

"Startled, maybe…but I wish I could say that this was a surprise," ultimately, it wasn't. This strange turn of events was very in line with who Hespæride was as a person.

"Nevertheless, it's…good…? to formally meet you, Yonakouchi." Velho's voice was soft and velvety, but tired, and in this case mired a bit by his mind processing what was playing out before him.

The Ferrier attempted to continue, but then coughed, some few Ashes escaping his lips in the process. "...sorry…ah, anyways, since you've apparently known me for quite some time, what say you about my chances to survive the initiation?"

Both he and his mother knew how the initiation worked, they knew it was a process that was difficult to survive, and they knew that simply being a Scourge would make it more difficult. But at the same time, Devorare, Æcturnis, and even Nymhea could ease the transition, should practitioners of the like be present. All the same, Velho wished to hear the prognosis directly from the horse's mouth.

 

[Haruspex]

˗ˋˏ ◜ ♡ ◝ ˎ´˗
ꘜ‿︵‿ꘜ
︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶꒦
▲‿▲

Slipping a paw inward, the vixen pulled down the shoulder of her heavy robe, freeing an upper half that was absent anything immodest. She wrapped the sleeves about her, and tied them tightly into a bow against her chest. Now, her robe was more of a dress than a statement of power.

"As am I, madame," replied the charcoal black vixen, tails idly hefting up her robe to girdle it with all the precision of extra arms, yet more tails functioning as thumbs.

Now, the pair could see her bare, padded feet. The Inari in its own flesh was much like a large dog, stood upright, yet more dainty and pointed as a fox should be.

Her expression remained… distant.

She waited for Velho to acknowledge her, and merely nodded politely in turn. Staring now at him, she listened for his question, and then slapped her paws down upon her hips. Rising, all those tails slithered away to but one, and she stepped towards Velho slowly.

It was true, he was ill. More so because he was a Scourge. "Any other man than a Scourge would be dead with that much Anima coursing through his veins," Yonakouchi spoke, reaching out to press moderately hard a clawed finger at his cheek, watching his skin darken and bruise at the slightest prick. Their eyes met closely, as she peered into his, and her claw fell away with a cold, icy breath exuded upon him.

"It's true, you would certainly die if any were to spear your heart with a spike of your would-be Sire's blood," she said, peeling her paws together to pull at the claws and pads, massaging over her wrists. "Antarok loves to play at its stories, however. I alone could negate your death, but the agony for your lacking constitution might sooner shatter your mind. But I know you, I know you are willful, if weak to your mother." Without her head moving, those bright blue eyes and blinked, opening to Hesperide.

"I have a confidence of two in five, same as any able bodied Inari."​

Her eyes fell back to Velho.

"From the breath of the Geist of my throat, there is Ardor. It will allay your death, but it will do nothing to avail you of the pain as your bones break, and your body begins to wither yet more. The true trial for you, I think, is surviving for these next few months while you are but a Childe. Devorare leaves the body . . . weakened. You will be bedridden given your frailty, for three months. Until your physicality stabilizes, and the pendulum swings towards vitality." She stood back, and held her paws behind her with a pensive, almost malicious grin, those eyes squeezing to slanty slits. "Saol, Ardor, blood. You will need plenty of these, and care from the finest Maltrician your mother can summon, in case your organs melt and pop under their own function." Her gaze softened, poignant warnings delivered.

Steel yourselves now, as I cannot be blamed for the weakness in a Childe. He lives, or he dies. Are you both comfortable with the odds, and the undertaking to follow?​

 

[Velho]

༺༉❁ November 17 year 19,835 of the second age ❁༉༻
<notes>

Something about the precision with which Yonakouchi was able to move all of her tails made Velho consider the idea of eventually acquiring Apparation– no doubt such tendrils were threaded into the vixen's tails, too. But, one step at a time…any additional strain to his Metaphors was a bit of a gambit, at the moment.

Velho didn't move, or really react much at all when Yona approached him aside from sitting a bit stiffly– but he did wince at her touch. It was in part reflexive; it's generally difficult to not flinch when anything nears too close to one's eye. The other part was that he could feel himself bruise.

"...I do certainly feel like a dead man walking most of the time," he replied only once she'd backed away, though it sounded almost more like he was musing to himself than anyone else.

The traditional method of imparting Devorare was out of the question; Hespæride had already advised against it, but Yonakouchi's words confirmed that such a tactic was to be avoided. In a way, Velho, too, was glad– why make his suffering worse for the sake of a tradition? One that nobody even knew if it did anything, no less.

He listened in silence as she continued, though it was unnerving to hear a stranger utter the phrase, 'I know you.' Especially so because he knew those words were not hollow– there was no way she didn't if she'd been watching him for as long as she'd said.

But for the most part, her words reinforced the reality that Velho had assumed he would be facing. While he wished his odds were better, he was at least pleased to hear that they weren't worse than what he'd approximated himself. The gambit was good enough for him; living as he had been since mastering Scourge was slowly driving him to madness.

On the other hand, Hespæride did not like this answer. In her heart, she knew it to be so; she'd studied each of the Blights meticulously alongside fellow scholars within Alítheia, so she'd known what to expect, but still…she'd delusionally hoped for better. Velho was, after all, her precious only son; she'd killed thousands in order to just conceive and carry him to term because of the way her Rusalka impacted her already abysmal Æld'Norai fertility. She'd kill thousands for him again, too, if it came down to it. She did not like these odds, and though it pained her dearly, she knew that denying her son this chance at a better life would be objectively cruel to him. She just loathed her inability to control the situation.

On the outside, however, she was the picture of cordial calmness. She would say nothing, only offering a solemn nod in acquiescence– this was Velho's choice.

For a moment, Velho closed his eyes, thinking. And when they reopened, his sleepy, lavender gaze fell back upon the fox that stood before him, more steeled than before.

"I accept the odds, and we've the resources to enhance them as you've directed; I can only hope I've the will to swing them in my favor," his words were accompanied by a short nod of his own.

"Just...do your level best for him, Yonakouchi. That is all I can ask of you. I trust you, and I do respect you. Velho is..." she trailed off, evidently unused to showing any real vulnerability of her own.

"My most coveted creation," she'd finally settled on the words.

 

[Vicissitude]

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Velho

+22 XP (~2200 WC)

Yonakouchi (Lakali)

+11 XP (~1100 WC)

I'll try to do Yona justice if I use her in any of my future content <3​

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