RP:Coterie Adventures - An Accidental Experiment
written in late September 2011.
This area is littered with broken towers of some sort, having fallen a long forgotten time ago, the old decaying structures lay upon one another, and as you feel that this path may be blocked by them, you can see a small crawl space under them, as they have formed a natural sort of bridge above. Among the walls of the broken towers you see massive holes, where perhaps ballista’s and boulders were launched into them. You may head to the north from here, or crawl under the stones to the west, or south.
Kirien, following the end of the trial, had headed out into the night with Svilfon, the empath’s intention being to get the man back to Satoshi’s house in one piece in order to attempt the removal of the petrifying substance slowly spreading and corrupting his body further. He’d realised numbly after only a short while of walking that the wizard would likely not make it all the way home and had been on constant lookout for a suitable compromise instead; a place to escape the snow and any dangers lurking within it for a bit and try to do -something- to lessen the pain it must be causing his coven mate. So he’d slipped and slid his way across an ice-encrusted bridge and trudged through heavy snows where the winds whispered like phantoms and the world was cold and dead, and eventually he’d come across an area of snowfield that was utterly littered with the broken, skeletal remains of fallen towers and other like structures. Half-supporting, half-dragging Svilfon by this point, Kirien headed immediately for one of the nearest ones, wandering along the side of the immense building until he came across an opening in its wall. “Right.” He coughed to clear his throat of cold. “We’ll just-- here.” And he’d be stepping inside the abandoned tower, picking his way across the floor and headed for the deeper, darker recesses where there resided less snow and shelter from the bitter winds.
Svilfon was glad when the trial ended, and with its result. But by that stage he could feel the stony claws of the dragon's spell corrupting the flesh of his back, driving in to begin to petrify his insides. But with Kirien's help he'd gotten back to his feet and begun the long walk home, through the ice and snow of Frostmaw; too sore to even feel the cold winds whipping his face and tearing at the remnants of his robes, which by now were almost getting indecent. He'd have to fix them soon, which means returning to the mage tower, something he has no real wish to do. By the time the coven mates had crossed the bridge and found the fallen towers, Svilfon was barely coherent - pain too much for him to bear. But when finally Kirien speaks in a voice made raspy by the cold, Svil manages the slightest ghost of a smile; his face coated almost entirely in icy snow, the look would be lost on a man with sight, though maybe the empath would catch it. "I'm... not going to be... your g'damn... golem..." He coughed out a quiet laugh, dislodging frozen shards from his face, before being further dragged into the immense remnants of the building, where at least there was some respite from the ever-howling storms that ever blow around Frostmaw's frozen peaks.
Kirien would have attempted to force some of his energy into Svilfon, just to help keep him conscious, had he possessed the ability to actually do so. He’d felt the way the wizard’s mind was wavering on the edges of coherent and incoherent and had tugged a little more roughly at him occasionally in an endeavour to summon his attentions back to reality and wakefulness. It was possible that a few of the rips in the man’s robes were due to this but Kirien wasn’t going to bother checking. Quietly thankful that the tower they’d entered seemed empty of beasts, the empath wasted little time in pushing Svilfon down once they’d trudged in far enough and found a well-sheltered spot. “Sit. You won’t be my golem.” Whether Svilfon managed to find a seat on the multitude of fallen bricks in this part of the tower, where another crashed down on top of it, it seemed (at least there’s still a roof), or simply fell to his knees on the floor, Kirien had relinquished his grasp on him; if only so as to snatch at his satchel and the heavy book stuffed into it, laying the tome open on the ground nearby the wizard. “How deep is it? Can you feel that?” the vampire asked, coughing again before he tugged a pouch out of the satchel and tipped it. A fiery stone slid out into his palm and with a single word spoken from Kirien, the command crackling with raw mana, the rock heated up and began to emit a soft glow; a firestone, something precious to Kirien. Set nearby, it’d soon warm their current area up to more comfortable levels, while the empath flipped pages in his book until he came across the information regarding petrification.
Svilfon drops down onto a pile of bricks as Kirien let him go, dislodging some small stones as he does. The seat is far from comfortable, but what is worse than the jagged pieces sticking into his legs is sound of stone on stone when he collapses back and strikes the top of the pile. "Mother.. fuuu..." He doesn't even finish the curse, instead looking around the tower in the faint glow of Kirien's firestone. It is clear it was once used as a defensive structure; thin 'murder holes' can be sometimes seen in the walls, where once bowmen rained death on an oncoming army, but by now all of them are lodged solid with ice. There are no spider-webs or signs of rats in here, protected as it is by the uncompromising cold of Frostmaw. As the terramancer begins to flip through the book, the wizard takes quiet stock of his body, trying to feel within himself how far the stony poison has gotten. All he knows is it hurts, and he can feel it consuming more and more of his flesh. Where he not a wizard, and well versed in a few sneaky stone spells - ones Tiphareth forced him to learn - he would without a doubt be filling someone's house as a gap-toothed statue. But he has enough natural protection to help hold off the oncoming death... for now, at least. "My brother..." His voice sounds far away to his own ears. How odd, he thinks. It is a long time before he manages to speak again; his thoughts like startled birds flittering about aimlessly. "My back.. my... I feel it eating me." That's about the best explanation he can do, but at least he is feeling warm. That firestone, he'd have to ask Kirien about it in a more comfortable setting.
Kirien jabbed at his book a couple of times as the wind was heard picking up outside; the eerie murmurs that could be misconstrued as many whispering voices beginning to transform into a wild gale that tore up freshly-fallen, powdery snow from the ground and flung it about in the air. Whether or not there were ghostly words howling with the wind, Kirien did not notice nor care, because he’d chosen a spot deep enough in the tower that only wisps of breezes tugged at his hair. The roar of the wind outside echoed some in the hollow spire but thankfully it was relatively quiet due to the small entranceway and the way it was facing. “Should be…ah, no, that’d…” Cuttings of his own internal conversation were uttered softly under breath as the vampire scrolled his fingers down a page, deftly following each sentence in turn and rereading instructions and descriptions to refresh his mind a little. He’d look up and meet Svilfon’s gaze with his own blind one when the man spoke, concern and what was likely guilt visible in his expression, frost shimmering as it melted on his cheeks. It seemed as if he wanted to say something but when eventually Kirien opened his mouth, the words that came out were not the ones he’d wanted to say. He could get to that later. “Hold still, aight?” With a little effort and a couple of stones and bricks dislodged in the process, he clambered up that rubble pile a bit so as to gain access to Svilfon’s back, briefly taking note of torn robes and tattered clothing before he placed a palm gently against the hardened, stony skin, assessing the damage as best he could. “Try to stay still - I don’t--” really know what I’m doing, “--I don’t want to mess up anywhere. That’d be bad. For both of us.”
Svilfon is lost within the whispers of the howling wind; he was sure he could hear malevolent ghosts discussing his oncoming fate when the petrification was complete and his soul was finally free to scream amongst the frozen mountains like so many others... But whether any of this was true, or merely his mind playing tricks on him, who knows... It is Frostmaw, after all; anything is possible in this place. As Kirien mutters to himself, the wizard meets his gaze and for just a moment sees the guilt written on the empath's features. He would address it now once and for all, "If this.. fails.. and I become.. a statue... It isn't your fault. None of this is. We are... coterie, where you walk, my brother, always I will be there." He offers an awkward nod of his head, before his eyes begin to roll around his head. But no! He would not lose consciousness, he must hang onto thin strands that keep his mind rooted in the world of flesh, for if he passes out the consuming stone would find far less resistance. He watches Kirien as makes his way up the pile of rubble, and as he is commanded he remains as still as possible while the terramancer takes stock of the damage. "Hold still... That better... not be a bad... statue joke... bastard..." He coughs half a laugh, before adhering to the command and remaining as still as possible. "I.. trust you, Kirien. Completely... just don't.. fu..." He coughs, "it up."
“You won’t become a statue.” Kirien huffed a breath and tugged sharply at Svilfon’s hat as though blindly aware of his once more almost losing consciousness. It should be enough to jolt him back to reality again for the moment. “You won’t become a statue,” repeated the empath, softer this time before he turned his focus back to the damage on the man’s skin. Fingers traced over greyer areas, the worst affected parts that had probably suffered the first strikes of the dragon’s breath weapon - and from there it had spread and corrupted. Taking a needless breath to steel himself, Kirien laughed briefly and said, “Of course,” then went to work; Svilfon would hear another crackle of raw magic from behind him as the terramancer spoke a single word, then another, then began to string them together. They were murmured under his breath and flowed to a certain rhythm, and gold sparks flew from Kirien’s lips. Each syllable was rough yet fluid, sharp but smooth; words of the earth and all its magic and movement, sounds to draw out the disease eating into Svilfon’s body. For some time it would seem as if nothing was happening and the poor wizard might feel the petrifying acid working its way further into his body during all this seemingly useless repetition. But then Kirien’s voice gradually began to change and the pain and weight would begin to lessen, the chant spoken in slightly more strained tones by the terramancer as the minutes stretched on, and on, and that grey hue blotching and marring patches of Svilfon’s skin started to fade out.
Svilfon listens to the contradicting sounds of Kirien's archaic mutterings with a curiosity not hindered by his current plight. He is, after all, a student of the arcane; a little brush with petrification is hardly enough to hinder his unquenchable desire to learn. So as his voice whips around the wizard, Svilfon at least has something to ensure he remains conscious, as well as a tug on his hat that the wizard will have to repay with an ear-flick later. As the spell begins to linger, the deceased wizard begins to think Kirien is wrong, or at least has no idea what he's doing; the insidious nature of the dragon's breath continues to weave into his flesh, and were he not a vampire his life would have ended long ago. Just as Svilfon is about to open his mouth and abuse his comrade for being an idiot, he feels it... like breaking through the ice to feel the flowing water beneath, he can sense the harshness of the stone giving way to soft flesh. It is painful, but less so than it was when he was being devoured by it. He doesn't speak, not wanting to interrupt his comrade's concentration, but he cannot quite stop the occasional groan of pain mixed with relief coming from his lips and echoing around the broken tower...
Kirien really did not know what he was doing, not truly. He’d never actually practised this sort of spell before and had only read up on it a couple of times, but he’d put faith in his abilities and in their durability and that belief would see them both through it. So he thought. Despite it all, he began to twitch occasionally the longer he continued, but his hands remained pressed dutifully to Svilfon’s back even as his voice and chanting took on an ever more pained sort of sound, tinted at the edges with weariness. Kirien would not give up and give in though - not until he’d fully removed all of this sinister spell from his coven mate. Most, he managed to destroy as it was drawn up through Svilfon’s body by his words to hit his fingertips via their connection; but some slipped through, the vampire not quite skilled enough to terminate all this vicious, vicious substance. It ate at him but he could probably bear it better than the wizard, the flesh of his hand beginning to lose what colour it still had in favour of that greyish hue taking over. He did not stop and would not allow Svilfon to realise just what he was doing in order to save him, siphoning away and utterly obliterating that disease simultaneously until he felt it had all been removed. Abruptly, after perhaps fifteen minutes or so of constant, rhythmic utterances, Kirien cut himself off and those sparks ceased, and the scent of magic in the air was ripped away by the wind. Kirien slumped back against the rubble, exhausted, and stuffed both his hands into his coat. He might’ve grinned faintly. “See. No Svil-golem. You should be fine now-- tired an’ sore, maybe, but..” Intact.
Svilfon can feel the terramancer drawing the stone from his back; he can sense the magic being destroyed on the winds of Kirien's spell, and slowly the agony begins to fade. Not entirely, mind you - were he less durable, or more alive, it may have been too much. But in light of the last few weeks it is manageable. When the terramancer's words abruptly stop, Svil leans forward and stretches out over his knees, exposing his back entirely beneath the flimsy remnants of his robes. It feels good to finally stretch out after so long, and ignoring the empath for a while, the wizard lets out some rather satisfied moans, "Oh, Sven's balls, that feels good." He is still sore, and not entirely confident all of it has been removed. But he trusts in his comrade's words enough to leave it be. He pulls himself to his feet and slowly twists left to right while trying to poke his own head over his shoulder, just for a glimpse of his back. But it fails miserably to work, and with a quiet huff he finally pays attention to Kirien, the source and solution to his most recent affliction. He flashes the empath a grin, "That was... something new..." He moves forward and grabs the kit-vampire's shoulder, and with another grin he speaks again, "All life is a stream, my brother; some step into it and find it sweet and gentle, some find it cold and unwelcoming..." He is quiet for just a moment, "But for us it is a torrent and hurls us down paths beyond our control." He gives the shoulder a squeeze, ignorant entirely of the fact Kirien seems to be hiding his hands, "I am glad we are both swept up on the same stream, my brother. Life should be exciting." This was the wizard's way of telling Kirien that all of this was worth the hassle, the bother and the pain. An odd way he has, sometimes; he can only hope the terramancer will understand.
Kirien’s a little worn out after all that work and so remained still and quiet while Svilfon emitted sounds of relief and approval, stretching out muscles that had previously been hardened painfully to stone. It was only when the wizard turned toward him with a smile that the empath moved, shifting to slowly stand before a hand found its way to one of his shoulders and gave him cause to pause, gaze meeting his coven mate’s. His own grin, while small, did broaden some; though it was tinged with clear tiredness. The work had taken a lot out of him, necessary and worth it as it may have been. Kirien swayed a little and nodded his head. “All life’s a river, aye, an’ all its streams eventually join the main flow. Guess one of ours combined with the other’s.” And, perceptive, he understood what the wizard meant and smiled a bit more light-heartedly as he nudged their shoulders together, passing by the other on the way to his book and bag. “I’m glad too. We should…try not to get you petrified again though,” he said while he stooped to kneel by his satchel and rifled around inside it. “Least I came prepared an’ such.” This was more a murmur to himself as Kirien tugged out a red leather band; Svilfon, were he paying enough attention, might notice the arcane etchings and runes carved into the surface, glints of gold amongst crimson and whispers of spells that would halt the advance of sinister magics. Kirien had known what he was getting into with this, knew the risk. He quickly slipped the band on and shoved it until it would go no further, secured tight midway along his left forearm. “But, yes. Life should be exciting but… I think we should avoid the petrification next time.”
Svilfon uses the time Kirien is rifling around in his bag to spend some time taking in the ruins. He was tempted, oh so tempted, to explore them further with his coven mate, but in the empath's words Svil had heard the terrible exhaustion. So with another quiet huff he turns back and makes his way to Kirien's side. "Yes, my bother... less petrification next time. But at least we got what we went for, and at least the coterie is safe after last night's trial. We are..." He would have carried on, until his gaze focuses on the band Kirien is forcing up his wrist until it fits tightly on his forearm. Ignoring his tired, sore muscles the wizard leans down and takes the empath's hand, or at least tries to, and flashes his gaze along it. "What.. did you do, Kirien?" He lifts his pale eyes to the terramancer's blind face and stares, as if seeking the answers within his expression. He would not move unless he was forced to, "Tell me, my brother..."
Kirien was tempted to venture further into the towers too, despite the niggling desire to just head back to the mansion and sleep all this off. These ruins were of interest to him; architectural beauties that had met their fates however many hundred years or perhaps even millennia ago. Had they been raided? Plundered of all their gold and finery? Who knew what could be lurking amidst these frozen stones - Kirien made the decision silently to investigate further at some point, whenever that may be. Distraction from the notion of exploring right away came in the form of Svilfon grabbing hold of his hand, which sent a jolt of pain through the empath though he managed to contain it. He’d feel stonier, like the man’s back had, fingers tinged with grey “Aha. This? It’s nothin’.” Honestly he’d not expected him to notice so soon after, but the band had probably given it all away. “It’s just an experiment,” Kirien said with a grin, covering up the real reasons with an excuse. He’d been unable to destroy it all due to his lacking ability and this bothered him. He felt vulnerable, but studiously kept his expression unreadable and masked with a smile. “No worries.”
Svilfon 's expression neither betrays him to believe or not believe the empath, and he does his very best not to think about it either way. Instead he focuses on his thanks to the man, letting that hopefully drown out any residual emotions that may have been flowing around the wizard's finely hatted head. "If you say so." Is his equally ambiguous answer, before he gets to his feet with a stifled groan. "As much as I'd love to go see what remains in here, my brother..." The wizard looks into the depths of the toppled tower, wondering like Kirien did what has truly survived down here. It is like he can feel...something... He shakes his head, convincing himself it is nothing more than the lingering problems caused by getting so stoned earlier. "We should head back soon, Kirien." He frowns, but it's fleeting, "You need...rest." He eyes that band again, he has seen them before. "And I need something to eat. Fighting dragons...Life is never dull in your company." He winks, grins, carefully claps Kirien on the shoulder again, before moving to allow the empath time to collect the rest of his things. The wizard can feel not all is right in the air; his senses fairly attuned to magical emanations after his training with the snow queen. But that was all for another time - home now for food, and then he must make the journey to his rooms within the mage's guild. Without his wand it would be tricky, but he needed his robes repaired - and risk is the spice of life, after all.
Kirien was a master of masks when they were absolutely required. Blindly he met Svilfon’s gaze with a stare that would tell the man little but there were flickers of reassurance in there before he patted the wizard on the shoulder and, again, smiled at him. “It’s fine. An’--” He paused briefly so as to cast his focus out over the bricks and squinted further into the gloomier depths of the fallen tower, looking thoughtful. “--We should come back here some time. Maybe.” Whether it was the ghosts in the wind or the general feel of this place, he wasn’t sure - but the empath thought he felt something…off. Once, he sniffed, before he’d turn to pluck up his book and stuff it back into his satchel, the wide fur-trimmed sleeve of his coat falling back down to obscure the red band and most of his damaged hand from view. That firestone was snatched up last and a word whispered to it that had Kirien spitting sparks again. Its glow faded and all at once the room was growing colder again, as if the gem had soaked up most of the heat it had emitted when its inner light went out. Pocketing it, Kirien turned to Svilfon. “Food sounds good. So does sleep but I think I like the idea of food more right now.” Perhaps they could hunt something down on the way back.
Svilfon nods his head to Kirien and offers another crooked grin, "We will return, my brother... there is..." The wizard shakes his head, and shrugs. "Nothing, let us go, then." He gives a lingering look down the tunnel, before shaking his head and making his way to the small opening that leads back to the swirling winds outside. It seems the weather has gone down hill whilst the coven mates were inside the fallen tower, and with snow and ice being whipped around violently, Svil has to yell to be heard above its insistent howling, "Kirien! Are you alright...?" The wizard wasn't sure exactly how tired his coterie mate was, and in this weather being lost could mean the empath became a Kirisicle pretty damn fast. "Here!?" Svil extends his hand and briefly focuses on it, a whispered word or two torn away from his mouth by the storm. But that matters nothing to his magic; the outstretched limb would faintly glow with a warming light, and were Kirien to touch it he would feel the wizard's warmth keeping the worst of the storm away. "Let's get out of this feckin' sharkbait weather, eh?" He grins a little; sore and tired, yes, but damnit! - he did love the wild nature of Frostmaw's unpredictable weather more than almost anything else.
Kirien’s eye slid to squint sightlessly back along the tunnel for a moment. He said nothing of whatever he might have felt down there, however, merely nodding and moving to quietly follow Svilfon back along to that opening. Ice shards and snow blasted into his face as soon as he reached it, the force of the wind throwing his hair back out of his face and causing that little ponytail of his to whip about behind him. Once or twice, he blinked blindly into the storm before a hand raised to tug his onyx-glass visor, usually used when flying, down over his eye. Turbulent streams of air whirled and rippled over his form and distorted the empath’s vision slightly, but Svilfon was a recognisable enough presence amidst all this chaos that Kirien could pick him out without too much difficulty; he reached to wrap stony fingers about that warming hand, a heat-thief at heart and thankful for something to stave off the worst of the storm. “Fuckin’ definitely.” Much as he adored Frostmaw and its volatile weather, he’d rather be somewhere sheltered, with a fire crackling merrily away. Exhausted as he was, the vampire would likely attempt to lead the way back, the white haze that might directionally confuse those with proper sight doing little to hinder his own. He might have to spend time carefully uncurling each of his fingers from round Svilfon’s hand later on, else they’d be stuck together.
Svilfon allows Kirien to lead them through the blinding storm; his hat is pulled down to almost obscure his eyes entirely, though even in the howling wind it never looks like the hat will be blown off. It remains snugly on his head, protecting the last of his ruddy hair from the storm. The wizard, not quite ignorant of Kirien's hand, though not as wise as he may think, keeps the heat flowing between the two. It is a simple spell for Svilfon to maintain, he usually keeps a smaller version of it on himself at all times... But we won't tell Satoshi that... She might be tempted to test her ice against it.. again. The wizard is led ever further by the blind man who sees far more clearly than those with eyes, and every so often Svil would attempt to speak - a failing gesture really as the storm steals his words and hurls them far away, "Mother…fucccc...." He stumbled on a jutting piece of ice, but didn’t fall. "L-let's eat at the h-house!" The words stumbling as snow fills his gap-toothed mouth. "I have.. hidden bloodwine... don't tell the icicle lady..." He'd offer a little laugh, before pressing on through the storm, the two making their way ever closer to their home.
Kirien wandered here and there across the snowfields, occasionally losing his previously mapped-out path but always finding it again soon enough. With the unfortunate problem of contracting frostbite sufficiently warded off by that unnatural warmth seeping into him through Svilfon’s hand, he found it far easier to deal with the ice storm, though he swayed some, weakened form buffeted by strong winds. Occasionally he might have lost his balance but righted himself quickly enough - he did have a relatively stable support constantly close by him, after all. “At the house, right.” Screw hunting in this weather, for sure, thought Kirien. He’d manage to lead them homewards in the end, through that steaming cave to the wider cavern of black sands and faux starlight glimmering overhead. And to a secret stash of blood wine, it seemed.
If the rest of the rooms in this mansion are gems, than this is the crown jewel: a personal library to rival Cenril's own public one, if not in size than at least in rarity and value of books. Only a scholar or mage is capable of devoting this much space purely to the careful storage of volumes and tomes, and this collector has outdone themselves. A careful eye might notice that the ash-gray dye colouring on the icy walls varies slightly in shade from section to section, a sign that this room has been repeatedly expanded outward, devouring other rooms of the mansion to accommodate its steady growth. But it isn't size alone that marks this as a truly magnificent library. The bookcases, all of that uniform black wood found throughout the manor, stand from marbled floor to ceiling in impeccable rows and are filled to capacity with books. Large books, small books, magical tomes, aged instruction manuals, leather-bound fairytales, and even a few tribal stories encased in what seems to be animal hide or fur, the sheer volume of variety is staggering and leaves many breathless. The knowledge one could obtain just by reading a single shelf of the countless present is a frightful thought. The centre of the room, marked as such by a separate arrangement of bookcases forming a vast circle around it, is reserved for comfortable armchairs, oversized velveteen cushions, reading and writing desks, a mage's well-worn work table, and a small collection of glass display cases designed to hold especially precious books. Most of the northern wall has been made into a floor to ceiling window, its midnight blue velvet curtains tied back to let in the starlight and reveal a pair of locked fluorite-glass doors leading outside where distant chirps and small roars can be heard. Further light is provided, once again, by those sconces and lanterns of fluorite-encased mage fire, these orbs giving off a gentle amber glow. Like the rest of the manor, the library is unnaturally cold, but the chilled air carries minimal book-damaging moisture, leaving all crisp and dry. And perfectly cosy for an ice magus.
Svilfon brushes the snow and ice from his robes, before shaking himself like a dog. Luckily, he does this in the foyer to save the books. By the time he makes his way to the library he is dried, and looks a cosy as he can in an Ice Magus' house. "Can I see the egg, Kirien?" It just dawned on the wizard he'd not seen their prize, or even asked if it was successful.
Kirien was a fox, not a dog, but he still shook himself out in much the same way as Svilfon did, coating the foyer with a little more snow and ice scraps before making his merry way into the library. Only when across the threshold and meandering amidst the shelves did he look back at Svilfon again, blinking at his question. “Oh-- right! Yeah, for sure.” Making to pull hastily away and seek the egg out, he probably tugged the wizard forward a step or two in the process, having utterly forgotten his fingers were still wrapped tight about the wizard’s hand. “…Aha.” Though his metal limb was usually not as dextrous and thus less used, it seemed those steely digits were more useful than the stony ones right now as Kirien reached to slowly pry each finger away and uncurl it. “…I’ll deal with that in a bit. Egg!” And so he was rushing off, disappearing behind a couple of bookcases.
Svilfon is indeed tugged a few steps forward by Kirien. He looks sideways at the rogue, thinking he might have taken their little nap together the other day all wrong. Before he sees the man's metallic hand prying lose his fingers. "Wha..?" is the extent of his unintelligent response, before the terramancer has skipped off into the shelves that hold Satoshi's many fine books. The wizard, with a light shrug to himself, and a brief frown at his clothes, wanders over to sit in his usual chair. He pulls out a bottle of bloodwine that was sneakily hidden and using a fang uncorks it. With a smile, he lifts it to his lips and takes a long drink, before calling out to his companion, "Take too long, my brother, and there won't be any left!" Of this bottle, anyway - the wizard has many hidden about both the room and his person. He's a wizard, it's what they do. As almost an after-thought he adds, "And what in the name of Sven's hairy chest have you done to your g'damn hand?"
Kirien made no comment to that half-formed question before he vanished into the walls of books and black wood bookcases, and would only return a couple of minutes later, appearing almost out of nowhere with his precious egg clutched against his chest. He walked slowly, carefully, wandering into the central circle of the library where Svilfon had made himself comfortable so as to claim one of the large, plush cushions dotted about the place. It seemed a nuisance had followed him back from wherever he’d gone - a small kitten trotted after the vampire and hopped up onto his cushion with him, apparently intent on commandeering the space on his lap before he could set the egg down on his knees. She stretched out and Kirien frowned at her, but did not bother jostling her off. He may have been quietly glad she would sit on him and allow herself to be petted, these days. “Egg!” he said instead to Svilfon and with a small grin, holding the greyish orb up. Its surface was pitted and rough, like pumice. “An’ which g’damn hand?” There was a glance between his metal one and the half-petrified one.
Svilfon was taking another deep drink of his blood-wine by the time Kirien returned, and in his relaxed state he'd almost forgot he asked a question. As the terramancer sits down with his feline companion, and extends the egg Svil abandons his chair and wanders closer. He offers the cat a 'Ptwahh" kinda noise between his lips, before reaching out to reverently touch the egg. He doesn't take it from Kirien, he merely runs his surprisingly sensitive fingers over shell with his eyes closed. A small smile forms on his lips, though where it comes from is unknown, before Svilfon nods his head to Kirien. "As fine a prize as any, and one worth far more than the price..." He looks away for just a moment, thinking he'll have to go back and see that dragon - put her out of her misery (He has no idea Eklenisec killed it). "At least for me.. Robes..." He shakes his head, "But you.. Your hand, idiot." He winks as he points to the partly petrified limb, "Prying it off? Did you..?" He leaves the question unasked, though his gaze remains steady on Kirien's face. He would be most upset if the terramancer sacrificed himself to save the wizard, even though he'd do it for him.
Kirien’s kitten mewled shrilly up at Svilfon and was given absent scratch behind one ear from the empath, who still held tightly to his egg with his other hand, balancing it precariously over the feline and against his chest. “Quiet, you,” he murmured to the kitten, who turned to look up at him in answer to her ‘name’. The soft heartbeat of the growing hatchling within the egg thrummed lightly against his chest and he watched Svilfon curiously, smiling just a little. “Mhmm. I’ma make sure to keep it alive.” Once again the state of his hand was brought up and Kirien puffed his cheeks out in mild exasperation, seamlessly masking any vulnerability felt beneath the surface. “I -told- you, it’s an experiment!” Though he waved it off at first, the empath realised the wizard would probably demand further explanation and so reluctantly continued after a short pause, huffing. “I just took a little bit of it.” Not entirely a lie, that. “It’s no problem. Most everythin’ you had in you I destroyed. It won’t get further than the band anyway.”
Svilfon knows a lot about magic, and its various uses. Though not as potent with the elements as the guild's mancers, or as brutally powerful as Tiphareth with his spells, the wizard is one of the most well-learned in the guild. So it is not in ignorance that he stares at the hand, and truthfully, if the terramancer wasn't holding onto the egg he'd have grabbed it again to get a closer look. As it is, he refrains from doing so and merely offers his comrade a crooked grin and a light shrug of his shoulder. "No need to get defensive, my brother." Was there a touch of slyness in his voice? I think there was. "You can do as you will. Just be wary." His light hearted tones fade then, and he has a rare moment of sincere seriousness. "Your band may well be powerful; could be the strongest of its kind. But all it takes is a loose move, a rough gesture, swimming through the stone." He fixes his gaze on Kirien's blind eye, "Or the stray paw of a cat to tear it free... And then it will spread. Your magic is strong; very much so." He nods his head in respect. "Maybe the strongest terramancer I have met here. But if that poison gets free, it will be... hard to stop. Without you there. If you get me?" He grins then, a crooked smile. "Just a warning, comrade! I'm all for the experiments."
Kirien could not quite halt a slight raise of brow. “I wasn’t bein’ defensive,” he responded nonchalantly and with an almost imperceptible shrug, “Was just remindin’ you of what I said earlier.” Blind gaze might have turned somewhere steelier at the following words, though surely spoken by the wizard in a friendly warning to him. The empath’s cheeks puffed out again in answer to it before he let out the air in them with a heavy sigh. “It’ll be fine. That’s what this whole experiment is for - if the band comes off I’ll remove it all from me before it gets too bad.” There was a glance down to the limb in question, then the egg he still held, before he looked back up at Svilfon. “Gonna wait for it to harden up a bit more though…”
Svilfon nods his head and returns to his chair with a grin. "Do as you will! Experiments are fun, my brother. And remember my motto! What's the worse that could happen?" It is often best not to answer Svil's motto.