Velho
Approved Character
- Messages
- 200
- Race
- Æld'Norai
- Profession
- Ferrier
- Location
- AElheim
- Arcana
- Character Sheet
༺༉❁ August 24th year 123 of the third age ❁༉༻
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August, late summer…it'd not even been a year since Æhti and Velho had first crossed paths, since the former had acquired Terra in the care of the latter. The boy had managed to push his skills with Terra to competency, though nowhere near the mastery with which he wielded Abation.
Still, Velho thought it time to move forward with his experimentation; time to foist another Galdr upon Æhti. The young man hadn't realized pushing him like this was the intent all along, and so was surprised when he was first informed. Further, he was far from being in favor of such a thing– no, he didn't want to undergo such a trial, face such a risk, again. He wanted to live and enjoy the arcana he already had. But…he didn't have a choice.
The one to initiate him would, again, be Eyrie, who upon realizing this wasn't something Æhti wanted, had begun to feel bad for the boy. She was on the more empathetic end with regards to the Fælnir, and over the past several months she had spent mentoring the young man's Terra, she'd become quite soft with him. It pained her to do this, but Velho, too, was her friend and colleague; she respected him. And she knew that something had changed since last time. Though she didn't know precisely why, she did know that the Ferrier's ultimate goal had shifted a bit; he wanted to keep Æhti alive going forward, so this time, he would try to reduce the boy's suffering and mitigate risk to the best of his abilities– even so far as allowing Eyrie to intervene herself if she felt so inclined.
And so came the day, then, when the schedules of the two Æld'Norai aligned; Æhti was even more nervous this time than he had been for Terra. Unlike the previous winter, he did not want this initiation at all. He sat within the very same room as last time, though it somehow felt even colder. Æhti had not been in here since that day and had gotten used to the color and maximalism of the rest of the manor; in here, the decoration was minimal, and it just felt…cold, empty. Sterile. Dark. The only thing it wasn't was stifling with its rather tall ceilings, but that wasn't much of a comfort in the moment.
He fidgeted from where he sat atop that same stone slab-bed, cracking his knuckles nervously. Velho sat in a chair a few feet away, and the two of them waited in silence for Eyrie. It was uncomfortable, awkward, for Æhti. He liked to talk when he was nervous, but had nothing to say to Velho.
Though they needn't linger long in the mires of this particular flavor of tension. Eyrie soon arrived, lightly knocking at the door to announce her presence before opening it. The gazes of both men set upon her, and each gave her a silent greeting. For Velho, this was common– for Æhti, this was clearly due to his discomfort. Normally, he had a bit more enthusiasm about him.
"Velho," she nodded to him in greeting.
"Æhti," she gave him a soft, reassuring sort of smile. "You'll be fine, I promise. You're strong and Velho and I are looking out for you, whether he will admit to it or not."
Velho let out a soft sigh at her words, though he opted not to comment.
"Same process as last time, then– we'll need you mostly undressed…and where do you want the mark to be drawn?" Since Eyrie was the one starting the initiation, she would lead until the process properly began.
Æhti nodded, and though his movements carried the weight of reluctance, he did not hesitate to obey his ælven betters. In the process of removing all but his undergarment, "...just below the one for Terra."
Eyrie would acknowledge this with a reassuring smile, if a bit stiff. Having gone through it herself, she knew that Aqua's initiation was amply unpleasant. The next few moments would be rather reminiscent of his previous initiation under her guidance. Her expression would shift to something focused, and she would then craft the same sharpened stylus sort of instrument out of metal, then, with a few deft movements, she'd carve the symbol for Aqua into the arm of the young Fælnir. These steps were followed by the cutting of her own palm to seal it and then charging it with her Aether, thus starting the rite within Æhti.
Like with Abation and Terra, the first sensation he felt that it had begun was a sort of Aetheric disturbance that had been quite difficult for him to place– much less describe– the first two times around. But now, on his third trial, it was easily recognizable to him and filled him with an intense sense of foreboding. The young man sucked in a breath, bracing himself for the inevitable tides of fate to wash over him. He could only hope that he'd live through it– there was so much left that he wanted to see in life, so much left to discover and experience.
The first thing that happened was that he began to perspire, though he did not feel overwarm; in fact, what leaked from his pores was pure water, not sweat. And as more and more of these beads of water dripped down his face, his back, neck, chest, and so on, he felt a growing nausea begin to rise from within. Æhti tried to hold it back, but he failed within a short period of time, beginning to heave rather violently before throwing up quite a large amount of liquid– which, again, was mostly water. He'd not eaten much prior to his initiation that day; too anxious.
And at this point, water was leaking from his ears, his eyes, his nose, his mouth; it was becoming difficult for him to breathe, too, though he could not tell if this was from water gathering internally or simply blocking his airways as it flowed out. The mage began to cough in an attempt to clear some of the water out of the way, but this affected little. But then, over the course of the next several minutes, his breathing became shallower and shallower, and though his lungs felt heavy and inflated, he was struggling to feel like he was getting enough air.
Velho eyed the young man's chest, keeping an observant eye on the expansion and retraction of his lungs as he breathed. As Æhti began to struggle more and more, he realized very quickly that the boy's lungs were beginning to fill with water. Sometimes, with Aqua, this would stop just before a lethal point, though the victim would have to suffer with the water being in their lungs for the rest of the initiation and that could cause myriad issues in and of itself– especially if they moved at all involuntarily. And, as the Ferrier was now insistent that he lived, he stood to approach the struggling Æhti.
"...hold still," he said as he reached for a straw-like tool from a tray that sat atop a nearby cart. There were myriad tools upon it, some of them looking rather monstrous– presumably, this had been set up in case their use was necessary as the initiation progressed.
What Velho had picked up, however, was a rather simple looking instrument. A metal straw, one end of it being sharpened like a needle painfully large in gauge. The metal looked to be the same as that which Eyrie wielded; perhaps she'd even been the one to make it. The sight of it made Æhti wince, and he closed his eyes.
"...take as deep a breath as you can when I reach 'one,' Æhti," the beleaguered Maltrician instructed. "Three…two…one," he counted down.
But at 'one,' he jabbed the straw deftly and with an unexpected amount of force between two of Æhti's ribs and just deep enough to puncture into his lung. Æhti stifled a scream, gagging on the water which continued to leak from him as a large amount of liquid, and now some blood, began to pour out of the metal straw– his right lung had been nearly full of water. This, temporarily, would make his breathing much worse, as he now only had one lung, also partially filled with water, with which he could breathe. Velho knew this, and so he knew his next few actions had to be swift.
The strange physician withdrew the straw once the heavier flower of red water had slowed to a drip, then he placed the palm of his dominant hand flat against what wound remained. Æhti winced, groaning in pain from the pressure of the old man's touch, but despite the shock of it jolting his nerves, he managed to stay still as stone. Velho mumbled a Druidic incantation, Invigorating the wound and Æhti's punctured right lung– sealing and reinflating it. The relief he felt in that moment was immense, though he still only had one functional lung for the moment.
"Turn, Æhti," Velho instructed again, and reluctantly, the young man obeyed. Much as he didn't want to, he knew well enough that the Maltrician's instructions at this point were solely for the preservation of his life.
Velho followed a similar series of steps, puncturing and draining Æhti's lung of fluid through his ribs with that same metal straw and healing it afterwards. The process, while exceptionally unpleasant, resulted in his breathing being restored. Aqua's initiation was known for changing places insofar as what part of the body flooded at a time, but perhaps the influx of Saol resulted in a shift– perhaps it was just coincidence– because at least, for the nonce, he didn't feel the insidious weight of liquid rising in his chest anymore.
But the pressure of the endless influx of water weight had not left him entirely. No, it had just moved; Æhti groaned, one of his hands instinctively gripping at his thigh as the pressure within it built and built. It wasn't rapid, no, but he could feel it, and that feeling was disquieting, pernicious– he desperately wanted it to go away.
These movements caused Velho's gaze to shift to the young man's leg, watching as the flesh beneath his hand slowly expanded. Watching skin slowly begin to tighten and swell was a bit grotesque, with Eyrie herself having averted her gaze around the time that Velho had needed to puncture Æhti's lungs. He put the metal straw back on the tray and collected a scalpel instead before moving to face the initiate again. His next action was a wordless one, stabilizing himself by gripping Æhti's leg down by his knee with one hand and then lancing at the bulging flesh with the blade. The cut he'd made was about half an inch wide, large enough for the reddened water to flow out without causing the skin to tear further under its weight. The pain of the wound was quickly overshadowed by the amount of relief the boy felt from the lessening pressure.
Watching the water flow wane into a drip seemed to entrance Velho, though Æhti was too distracted to think anything of it and Eyrie wasn't really looking. The Ferrier, the Devorari, found himself caught in a bit of a daze. There was a drain on the floor not far from where the stone table Æhti sat upon was down which the vast majority of the water had flowed, but that did not mean Velho did not catch the scent of Æhti's blood. The ælf wasn't stupid; he knows well that there'd be a lot of bleeding involved in every initiation. He knew that, from Æhti's Terra initiation, this would be a test of his self control just like before– but knowing that didn't make it any easier, really. The hunger that gnawed at him never truly left, not even when he was sated, but feeding on Æhti was the closest to quieting it he'd ever truly come…and knowing that made resisting him in these moments all the harder.
A sharp cry from Æhti's lips pulled the Ferrier from his trance– he'd completely zoned out.
The young Galsterei was groping at his abdomen now, belly swollen with an abundance of fluid. Æhti hated looking at his body during these initiations; while he knew that any damage incurred would be fixed by Velho, that thought was of cold comfort when staring down at himself contorting in such a fashion.
Velho blinked, startled, but then coming back to his senses, he leaned forward and made a similar cut over the most swollen part of him– red water once again flowing forth. Even diluted, Æhti's blood smelled so very tantalizing…the Ferrier squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to focus. He stepped back and away for a moment as the fluid continued to drain, gathering himself. By now, about a half hour had passed. He hoped that this initiation would be on the shorter end; he wasn't sure how much longer Æhti would be able to bleed like this, or even how much longer he'd be able to stop himself from taking what was left.
They continued on like this for another thirty minutes, with Velho lancing different parts of Æhti's body as they began to swell. And by the time the symptoms began to subside, Velho had cut into the flesh of all four limbs and his stomach, resulting in a rather bloody scene– much to the Devorari's vexation. He so badly wanted to consume all the blood that was being shed, but neither Æhti nor Eyrie were permitted to know of the Blighted, and so feeding on what flowed so freely was simply not an option.
But, luckily for them both, the young Galsterei was beginning to stabilize. Aqua tended to be a bit on the shorter end by comparison to some of the others, and perhaps this was because the Other within the initiate knew that drawing out such a bloody affair was a surefire way for the flesh sack that was the mortal body to perish…but who could say, really? Despite how long Galdr had been around, there was still so much one simply could not confirm. Still, even for Aqua, the subsiding symptoms came somewhat swiftly– lucky for Æhti, lucky for Velho.
Æhti was panting, exhausted. He felt awful, sick to his stomach, and completely drained. His head hurt, everything felt impossibly heavy even though all of the water had been drained, and he longed, desperately, to rest. From their Lifesight, the two Æld'Norai could see that his vitals, for the circumstance, were finally stabilizing– the young sorcerer had made it through his third Galdr initiation; a true rarity, even for those of stronger stock than Fælnir. Eyrie herself refused to undergo a third because of the risk inherent to it.
"You've succeeded, Æhti," Eyrie said, a genuine smile drawn 'cross her lips. She had grown fond of the boy over the months she'd spent tutoring him; she was happy to see that he'd made it.
Æhti didn't respond verbally, but the visible relaxation of his body as he laid back indicated great relief.
"...you can rest, now," Velho added.
And Æhti really didn't need that permission, as his consciousness had already begun to fade the moment he'd let himself rest against the stone of the table.
"Do you need me for ought else?" Eyrie asked, just making sure.
"...no, but thank you for the offer. I'll let you know when he awakens," Velho answered.
The woman nodded, her own relief at the outcome visible on her features. "See you then, Velho– and please, don't send him anywhere silly while he recovers," she added.
Velho chuckled, "...he's an investment, now. I'll be careful with him."
And while that answer was dehumanizing in nature, that's how Velho was naturally inclined to think of Æhti. An investment. A project he'd sunk time into. A body filled with valuable, ambrosian blood– not the person that Æhti was. Not the soul that resided within. It was easier that way, in part because Velho had been brought up to think of the Fælnir in such a fashion, and in part because Velho had a tendency to shy away from emotional attachments in general. Life, he thought, had much less pain to it the less one got attached to others– and while this applied to all, it especially ought to apply to the frail and short lived. Even if such an outlook had led him to lead a rather lonely existence, it was something that he had come to rely on and find some inherent comfort in.
Still, if he were honest with himself for even a second, he'd acknowledge that there was something of a sentimental tie growing between him and Æhti. Problem was, however, that he…wasn't. At all.
But once the door clicked closed behind Eyrie, Velho would begin the process of cleaning up what remained of the blood; not all of it had made it down the room's drain. Not unlike when Æhti had gone through his trial of Terra, Velho utilized Hemomancy to collect all that had spilled into a large glass he'd brought with him this time– one he'd left over on the counter on the far side of the room, assuming that, over there, neither Eyrie nor Æhti would notice it enough to think it had anything to do with what they'd be doing today.
The nice part of Devorare only being able to manipulate blood was that, once he'd gathered it in his cup, it was no longer diluted. He wanted to take his time and enjoy the blood he'd collected, to really savor it– though in this endeavor, he failed. Had a third Galdr made Æhti's taste even sweeter…? He had noticed that those with more magic tended to be so in the past.
But like before, Velho left Æhti behind when he took his leave– the young mage being far too heavy for him to carry out. A sveinn would facilitate moving him soon enough.
Still, Velho thought it time to move forward with his experimentation; time to foist another Galdr upon Æhti. The young man hadn't realized pushing him like this was the intent all along, and so was surprised when he was first informed. Further, he was far from being in favor of such a thing– no, he didn't want to undergo such a trial, face such a risk, again. He wanted to live and enjoy the arcana he already had. But…he didn't have a choice.
The one to initiate him would, again, be Eyrie, who upon realizing this wasn't something Æhti wanted, had begun to feel bad for the boy. She was on the more empathetic end with regards to the Fælnir, and over the past several months she had spent mentoring the young man's Terra, she'd become quite soft with him. It pained her to do this, but Velho, too, was her friend and colleague; she respected him. And she knew that something had changed since last time. Though she didn't know precisely why, she did know that the Ferrier's ultimate goal had shifted a bit; he wanted to keep Æhti alive going forward, so this time, he would try to reduce the boy's suffering and mitigate risk to the best of his abilities– even so far as allowing Eyrie to intervene herself if she felt so inclined.
❀ •════════════════════• ❀
And so came the day, then, when the schedules of the two Æld'Norai aligned; Æhti was even more nervous this time than he had been for Terra. Unlike the previous winter, he did not want this initiation at all. He sat within the very same room as last time, though it somehow felt even colder. Æhti had not been in here since that day and had gotten used to the color and maximalism of the rest of the manor; in here, the decoration was minimal, and it just felt…cold, empty. Sterile. Dark. The only thing it wasn't was stifling with its rather tall ceilings, but that wasn't much of a comfort in the moment.
He fidgeted from where he sat atop that same stone slab-bed, cracking his knuckles nervously. Velho sat in a chair a few feet away, and the two of them waited in silence for Eyrie. It was uncomfortable, awkward, for Æhti. He liked to talk when he was nervous, but had nothing to say to Velho.
Though they needn't linger long in the mires of this particular flavor of tension. Eyrie soon arrived, lightly knocking at the door to announce her presence before opening it. The gazes of both men set upon her, and each gave her a silent greeting. For Velho, this was common– for Æhti, this was clearly due to his discomfort. Normally, he had a bit more enthusiasm about him.
"Velho," she nodded to him in greeting.
"Æhti," she gave him a soft, reassuring sort of smile. "You'll be fine, I promise. You're strong and Velho and I are looking out for you, whether he will admit to it or not."
Velho let out a soft sigh at her words, though he opted not to comment.
"Same process as last time, then– we'll need you mostly undressed…and where do you want the mark to be drawn?" Since Eyrie was the one starting the initiation, she would lead until the process properly began.
Æhti nodded, and though his movements carried the weight of reluctance, he did not hesitate to obey his ælven betters. In the process of removing all but his undergarment, "...just below the one for Terra."
Eyrie would acknowledge this with a reassuring smile, if a bit stiff. Having gone through it herself, she knew that Aqua's initiation was amply unpleasant. The next few moments would be rather reminiscent of his previous initiation under her guidance. Her expression would shift to something focused, and she would then craft the same sharpened stylus sort of instrument out of metal, then, with a few deft movements, she'd carve the symbol for Aqua into the arm of the young Fælnir. These steps were followed by the cutting of her own palm to seal it and then charging it with her Aether, thus starting the rite within Æhti.
Like with Abation and Terra, the first sensation he felt that it had begun was a sort of Aetheric disturbance that had been quite difficult for him to place– much less describe– the first two times around. But now, on his third trial, it was easily recognizable to him and filled him with an intense sense of foreboding. The young man sucked in a breath, bracing himself for the inevitable tides of fate to wash over him. He could only hope that he'd live through it– there was so much left that he wanted to see in life, so much left to discover and experience.
The first thing that happened was that he began to perspire, though he did not feel overwarm; in fact, what leaked from his pores was pure water, not sweat. And as more and more of these beads of water dripped down his face, his back, neck, chest, and so on, he felt a growing nausea begin to rise from within. Æhti tried to hold it back, but he failed within a short period of time, beginning to heave rather violently before throwing up quite a large amount of liquid– which, again, was mostly water. He'd not eaten much prior to his initiation that day; too anxious.
And at this point, water was leaking from his ears, his eyes, his nose, his mouth; it was becoming difficult for him to breathe, too, though he could not tell if this was from water gathering internally or simply blocking his airways as it flowed out. The mage began to cough in an attempt to clear some of the water out of the way, but this affected little. But then, over the course of the next several minutes, his breathing became shallower and shallower, and though his lungs felt heavy and inflated, he was struggling to feel like he was getting enough air.
Velho eyed the young man's chest, keeping an observant eye on the expansion and retraction of his lungs as he breathed. As Æhti began to struggle more and more, he realized very quickly that the boy's lungs were beginning to fill with water. Sometimes, with Aqua, this would stop just before a lethal point, though the victim would have to suffer with the water being in their lungs for the rest of the initiation and that could cause myriad issues in and of itself– especially if they moved at all involuntarily. And, as the Ferrier was now insistent that he lived, he stood to approach the struggling Æhti.
"...hold still," he said as he reached for a straw-like tool from a tray that sat atop a nearby cart. There were myriad tools upon it, some of them looking rather monstrous– presumably, this had been set up in case their use was necessary as the initiation progressed.
What Velho had picked up, however, was a rather simple looking instrument. A metal straw, one end of it being sharpened like a needle painfully large in gauge. The metal looked to be the same as that which Eyrie wielded; perhaps she'd even been the one to make it. The sight of it made Æhti wince, and he closed his eyes.
"...take as deep a breath as you can when I reach 'one,' Æhti," the beleaguered Maltrician instructed. "Three…two…one," he counted down.
But at 'one,' he jabbed the straw deftly and with an unexpected amount of force between two of Æhti's ribs and just deep enough to puncture into his lung. Æhti stifled a scream, gagging on the water which continued to leak from him as a large amount of liquid, and now some blood, began to pour out of the metal straw– his right lung had been nearly full of water. This, temporarily, would make his breathing much worse, as he now only had one lung, also partially filled with water, with which he could breathe. Velho knew this, and so he knew his next few actions had to be swift.
The strange physician withdrew the straw once the heavier flower of red water had slowed to a drip, then he placed the palm of his dominant hand flat against what wound remained. Æhti winced, groaning in pain from the pressure of the old man's touch, but despite the shock of it jolting his nerves, he managed to stay still as stone. Velho mumbled a Druidic incantation, Invigorating the wound and Æhti's punctured right lung– sealing and reinflating it. The relief he felt in that moment was immense, though he still only had one functional lung for the moment.
"Turn, Æhti," Velho instructed again, and reluctantly, the young man obeyed. Much as he didn't want to, he knew well enough that the Maltrician's instructions at this point were solely for the preservation of his life.
Velho followed a similar series of steps, puncturing and draining Æhti's lung of fluid through his ribs with that same metal straw and healing it afterwards. The process, while exceptionally unpleasant, resulted in his breathing being restored. Aqua's initiation was known for changing places insofar as what part of the body flooded at a time, but perhaps the influx of Saol resulted in a shift– perhaps it was just coincidence– because at least, for the nonce, he didn't feel the insidious weight of liquid rising in his chest anymore.
But the pressure of the endless influx of water weight had not left him entirely. No, it had just moved; Æhti groaned, one of his hands instinctively gripping at his thigh as the pressure within it built and built. It wasn't rapid, no, but he could feel it, and that feeling was disquieting, pernicious– he desperately wanted it to go away.
These movements caused Velho's gaze to shift to the young man's leg, watching as the flesh beneath his hand slowly expanded. Watching skin slowly begin to tighten and swell was a bit grotesque, with Eyrie herself having averted her gaze around the time that Velho had needed to puncture Æhti's lungs. He put the metal straw back on the tray and collected a scalpel instead before moving to face the initiate again. His next action was a wordless one, stabilizing himself by gripping Æhti's leg down by his knee with one hand and then lancing at the bulging flesh with the blade. The cut he'd made was about half an inch wide, large enough for the reddened water to flow out without causing the skin to tear further under its weight. The pain of the wound was quickly overshadowed by the amount of relief the boy felt from the lessening pressure.
Watching the water flow wane into a drip seemed to entrance Velho, though Æhti was too distracted to think anything of it and Eyrie wasn't really looking. The Ferrier, the Devorari, found himself caught in a bit of a daze. There was a drain on the floor not far from where the stone table Æhti sat upon was down which the vast majority of the water had flowed, but that did not mean Velho did not catch the scent of Æhti's blood. The ælf wasn't stupid; he knows well that there'd be a lot of bleeding involved in every initiation. He knew that, from Æhti's Terra initiation, this would be a test of his self control just like before– but knowing that didn't make it any easier, really. The hunger that gnawed at him never truly left, not even when he was sated, but feeding on Æhti was the closest to quieting it he'd ever truly come…and knowing that made resisting him in these moments all the harder.
A sharp cry from Æhti's lips pulled the Ferrier from his trance– he'd completely zoned out.
The young Galsterei was groping at his abdomen now, belly swollen with an abundance of fluid. Æhti hated looking at his body during these initiations; while he knew that any damage incurred would be fixed by Velho, that thought was of cold comfort when staring down at himself contorting in such a fashion.
Velho blinked, startled, but then coming back to his senses, he leaned forward and made a similar cut over the most swollen part of him– red water once again flowing forth. Even diluted, Æhti's blood smelled so very tantalizing…the Ferrier squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to focus. He stepped back and away for a moment as the fluid continued to drain, gathering himself. By now, about a half hour had passed. He hoped that this initiation would be on the shorter end; he wasn't sure how much longer Æhti would be able to bleed like this, or even how much longer he'd be able to stop himself from taking what was left.
They continued on like this for another thirty minutes, with Velho lancing different parts of Æhti's body as they began to swell. And by the time the symptoms began to subside, Velho had cut into the flesh of all four limbs and his stomach, resulting in a rather bloody scene– much to the Devorari's vexation. He so badly wanted to consume all the blood that was being shed, but neither Æhti nor Eyrie were permitted to know of the Blighted, and so feeding on what flowed so freely was simply not an option.
But, luckily for them both, the young Galsterei was beginning to stabilize. Aqua tended to be a bit on the shorter end by comparison to some of the others, and perhaps this was because the Other within the initiate knew that drawing out such a bloody affair was a surefire way for the flesh sack that was the mortal body to perish…but who could say, really? Despite how long Galdr had been around, there was still so much one simply could not confirm. Still, even for Aqua, the subsiding symptoms came somewhat swiftly– lucky for Æhti, lucky for Velho.
Æhti was panting, exhausted. He felt awful, sick to his stomach, and completely drained. His head hurt, everything felt impossibly heavy even though all of the water had been drained, and he longed, desperately, to rest. From their Lifesight, the two Æld'Norai could see that his vitals, for the circumstance, were finally stabilizing– the young sorcerer had made it through his third Galdr initiation; a true rarity, even for those of stronger stock than Fælnir. Eyrie herself refused to undergo a third because of the risk inherent to it.
"You've succeeded, Æhti," Eyrie said, a genuine smile drawn 'cross her lips. She had grown fond of the boy over the months she'd spent tutoring him; she was happy to see that he'd made it.
Æhti didn't respond verbally, but the visible relaxation of his body as he laid back indicated great relief.
"...you can rest, now," Velho added.
And Æhti really didn't need that permission, as his consciousness had already begun to fade the moment he'd let himself rest against the stone of the table.
"Do you need me for ought else?" Eyrie asked, just making sure.
"...no, but thank you for the offer. I'll let you know when he awakens," Velho answered.
The woman nodded, her own relief at the outcome visible on her features. "See you then, Velho– and please, don't send him anywhere silly while he recovers," she added.
Velho chuckled, "...he's an investment, now. I'll be careful with him."
And while that answer was dehumanizing in nature, that's how Velho was naturally inclined to think of Æhti. An investment. A project he'd sunk time into. A body filled with valuable, ambrosian blood– not the person that Æhti was. Not the soul that resided within. It was easier that way, in part because Velho had been brought up to think of the Fælnir in such a fashion, and in part because Velho had a tendency to shy away from emotional attachments in general. Life, he thought, had much less pain to it the less one got attached to others– and while this applied to all, it especially ought to apply to the frail and short lived. Even if such an outlook had led him to lead a rather lonely existence, it was something that he had come to rely on and find some inherent comfort in.
Still, if he were honest with himself for even a second, he'd acknowledge that there was something of a sentimental tie growing between him and Æhti. Problem was, however, that he…wasn't. At all.
But once the door clicked closed behind Eyrie, Velho would begin the process of cleaning up what remained of the blood; not all of it had made it down the room's drain. Not unlike when Æhti had gone through his trial of Terra, Velho utilized Hemomancy to collect all that had spilled into a large glass he'd brought with him this time– one he'd left over on the counter on the far side of the room, assuming that, over there, neither Eyrie nor Æhti would notice it enough to think it had anything to do with what they'd be doing today.
The nice part of Devorare only being able to manipulate blood was that, once he'd gathered it in his cup, it was no longer diluted. He wanted to take his time and enjoy the blood he'd collected, to really savor it– though in this endeavor, he failed. Had a third Galdr made Æhti's taste even sweeter…? He had noticed that those with more magic tended to be so in the past.
But like before, Velho left Æhti behind when he took his leave– the young mage being far too heavy for him to carry out. A sveinn would facilitate moving him soon enough.
