A Blade and Her Witch

Drowning A Fire in Gasoline (Blade)

Content Warnings:

As she grasps my wrist I feel a moment of hesitation, a drive to violence, to attempt to overtake her in a conflagration of Ousia spiked with Physis. And yet. And yet…

There's a chance. Hah. Not a second one, but a genuine first chance, starting from a place of honesty.

With a giggle more mental than physical I slip loose of my sustained form, becoming once more a spear held loosely in her grip. I seize the flow of Physis she offered and sheath it in Ousia, flooding her body to smother the invasive substrate that is slowly killing her.

The Witch can't stop such a gasp from leaving her lips. Suddenly and without warning flooded with a sense of weightlessness. I follow the sensation, reveling in the feeling of conquest that wells up within me.

"Oooooh. By the Cracked and Riven Moon." She sighs in a moment of euphoric bliss. "I... I didn't realize just how much it was taking over the years. How much-" She stops, shakes her head and cuts off the words to ask. "Anyway. Apologies. How are you, dear?".

I feel out my reserves as Elevar does the same. Down to about half of what I had remaining. Really need some sort of unit of measurement. Lives? Years? Will have to discuss that later. Riven Moon? What tragedy have I missed? She mentioned Moon Waste earlier as well…

[I am fine. No. Actually, I am nervous. But… Willing.]

Honesty. It must be honesty first and foremost. If I need to kill her, I will do so without regrets or concerns that I could have changed things.

"Understandable," Elevar considers for a moment as she holds my shaft, tilting me to and fro as my deadblow iron core glides within my form. She seems confused by it at first but seems to put the thought aside before she speaks again. "Don't give up more than you can spare. I've survived years with this and can endure more if it gives you time to recover. We also want to make sure you don't suffer any damage or affliction from the Seelenfäule."

[What is this... Seelenfäule? Is it the anomalous substance in your body?]

"It is." She murmurs as she adjusts her grip. Sure in her hold but... deftly gentle.

[It is unlikely to affect me, unless you plan on doing something absurd like trying to cut it out with my blade.] 

I ponder that idea.

Whatever this substance is, we could treat it by simply removing and regrowing the infected tissue. It would be tremendously inefficient but would be much safer than trying to directly interact with it. Something to mention in the future. After we leave at the very least.

"I wouldn't even know where to start." Elevar laughs mirthlessly at that. "The fact you can even sense the source within me is impressive. Countless minds have broken themselves trying to understand even a little of the Seelenfäule."

The Witch takes a few seconds to examine my physical form more thoroughly while seeming to consider a myriad of questions as her Doll bumbles back into the little nook. A fresh pot and two cups held on a tray before it. 

Dammit. I forgot about the tea. It would have been nice to taste, to have something to drink finally.

"Oh." It nearly yelps at the sight of me. Looks about in confusion. "Where did our guest go?"

Nowhere, obviously. This Doll process, whatever it is, clearly does not improve one's intellect.

"She had to step out. Thank you for the tea, it smells wonderful. As always." Elevar nods toward a small table. "Leave it all there and head on over to continue your sister's work on the chitin. We'll be leaving this Archive today."

Sister this, sister that, what are they even making a play at? Some strange fetish or whimsy?

The Doll brightens. "Did... Mistress? Did you find the books you wanted?"

What kind of books was she even looking for?

"Not in the slightest." She shrugs nonchalantly. "But... the chitin itself will cover all my expenses. This was more a final consideration before returning to the Estate anyway."

It sags a bit. "Oh... I'm sorry."

"Don't be, dear." Elevar walks over to pit-pat the Doll's head, then adjusts to cup its chin. "Now, be a good gerl and run along. I'd like to catch sight of the moon if we're able to make it to the surface before the twin suns bloom and start their weeping for the day."

CONVERSATION! Must focus on what we‘re discussing.

[Countless minds. Heh. Not quite. Only 57 went into making me, but it does give me a bit of a firmer grasp on the comprehension of things in my sphere of influence. My Ousia, the magic of my Existence, is made of all of them and everyone I've consumed since...]

Yes. Perfect. That'll impress her, I'm certain.

I burn a small amount of Ousia to modify my form as she rotates me in her grip, significantly reducing my length and weight to better suit Elevar and the current limitations she's under.

[This... Doll weaving you spoke of. It is likely an offshoot of the research that created me, and could be... modified once more to perhaps restore and enhance your physical capabilities. If you are willing, I would appreciate a chance to learn more about it.]

"Of course. If the Art catches your fancy." Elevar can't help but grin at the easy shifting, but pauses to consider something. "Which... speaking of. This place itself is dull and quite devoid of writings of worth, but I recall you mentioning a deep desire to enjoy a good book. And since we've suddenly found ourselves in a position to hurry up and wait, I could see if there is anything that catches your fancy within the little Archive I brought with me?"

CONFUSION. Does she not understand what I speak of? I talk of perfecting her form and she responds like I am a grakler bringing her a carcass. 

I push aside these thoughts at the mention of a personal Archive.

[I would be very appreciative of that, though my capacity to demonstrate such is as of yet still limited.]

"No worries. You'll have all the time you need to consider how you'd like to spend your life. So..." Elevar settles me in the crook of her arms and moves back to sit, considers for a moment as she begins to weave a delicately small amount of Physis with her free hand. "What are you in the mood for? I, of course, have a few hundred research catalogs, journals, and even a few rarer tomes I'd be happy to share. Or... if you find the idea of rousing from your dreaming to the drolling on of old witches boorish, I've also acquired a much larger section of fictions, salacious biographies and autobiographies, scandalously inaccurate retellings of various political and historical events And... well..."

A flicker, and from a popping of bubbles comes an oddly book shaped construct of light. Various nonsense words flutter and titter about in almost coherent words.

Bizarre, not quite wasteful or frivolous but far from efficient.

"All sorts. Just let me know what you're in the mood for and I'll be happy to rattle off suggestions and titles and the like!"

[A history of sorts, even scandalously inaccurate could be of use, it would provide both amusement and a baseline for how long I have been hidden away from the world]

Elevar swirls her fingers about in thought as the Physis congeals into a large tome with almost readable words, "I do adore Keldegrin's perspective in 'The Swagger and Folly'. Her little tangents on seemingly random Witch bumblings, comes together nicely amidst what could be a droll accounting of the dissolvement of the twelve Matrons. Goes back roughly... Thirteen hundred years? Even vague events might give us an idea of when you were last out and about." A flitter, and the tome shifts a touch. "Or there is Mutallias, and her incredibly self-absorbed flailing at understanding the darker side of the Matrons' fall. She basically inserts herself into the heart of it all when she was quite obviously safe in her hovel and watching from afar. Only filled her series with facts she garnered well after the blood was dried. But... her take on the politics of it all is fascinating..."

A beat, and the bubbling illusions fractures and splits in twine. Forming two distinct volumes. "Do either of these catch your fancy? Or should I dig deeper? I'm sure I have a few written by the Dolls of the era. They can be... incredibly dry. But devoid of pomp. They honestly provided some of the source material for others to twist into their salacious retellings, however boring."

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