RP:Latulepi 2.0

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Summary: Larewen summons Latulepi to the place where she raised her for another ritual. As a result, Latulepi gains better control over her own actions and reflexes, including the ability act freely on her own. Thus begins the undead girl's instruction in the dark arts.

The Abyssal Forest

Larewen stood in the very place that she had brought Latulepi into this world, only this time, she was far more prepared than she had given life to the deceased youth. Her craft had improved; she had mastered the dark arts, and now, now she could rebuild her dearest creation, her child, into something far more functional than she was currently. A quiet, magical tug upon the magic that bound Latulepi to her would be felt, drawing her to the twisted trees under which she had been born, where she would find the elder necromancer, mismatched eyes watching.

Latulepi was content to linger on the roadside, fingering a marble she found lying among the shriveled brambles not far behind her. Her fingers are riddled with thorns and bits of branch that caught onto her deadened, ashen flesh when the stitched corpse fished the hardened item. Some of those thorns found home about her face, puncturing her skin and clinging to the bits of her scalped skull, so as the girl pulled away with her treasure, parts of the bramble broke free from the bushes to decorate her baldness. Latulepi stares in such focus with those empty, crusty brown, lifeless eyes at the tiny ball in her fingers for hours. It would have been hours longer had that urge not flooded her tiny, lifeless to stand. The stitched horror's gait is so unsteady and uncoordinated, yet there is a disturbing sort of speed in her steps that carries her swiftly towards her master. By the time Latulepi finds the elder vampire her cloaked body would covered in dirt and stickers, with an arm hanging from its stitches scraping its knuckles across the ground. The drowic corpse gazes up at Larewen with those lifeless, soul-dissecting eyes, then lifts the marble up for the vampiress to see. It was not a marble after all, but in fact, an eye. With several thorns impaling it.

Larewen turned to greet Latulepi when she arrived, only to frown deeply at the girl's state. The thorns, the hanging arm, the missing eye... which was being held up toward her. "Ah, Latu," she breathed, her words a whisper. Around the elf's throat was a tight bandage that was holding a poultice in place where a hole had been gouged by Shishi's teeth. Her head tilted and a gloved hand reached for the eye, which, reaching forward, was unceremoniously popped back into the undead girl's socket - without first removing the thorns. "Now then," she said, offering a warm smile to the child. It was creepy, especially given the inky, corruption that webbed across her pale features. "I'm going to fix you, like I promised. Would you like that?"

Latulepi lifts her arm up high toward Larewen, her glazed gaze holding steadily on the bandage around the woman's neck. The corruption webbing the elder's features does nothing to deter the dead child, even in the wake of that smile. Latulepi's dry, shriveled lips part to permit the exhaled escape of hoarse words. "..F...ffiiik..ss." She replies, her gaze not moving from its spot on the bandage.

Larewen dipped her head in the wake of Latulepi's reply, assuming it to be an agreement. Rather than reach out to embrace the undead drow, the elf immediately set to drawing upon the unholy energies over which she possessed control. An invisible darkness permeated the already horrific forest, but this was one created by the necromancer. Dark tendrils of magic materialized around the stitched corpse, weaving itself into the tainted, fibrous stitches that held her body together. Her arm would be jerked upward, forcefully pulled back into its place as the dark magic imbued, strengthened, and combined the stitched flesh, so that, though the fibers were still visible, they would no longer weaken as they had been. Next, the necromancer removed her gloves, taking with them the engagement ring and, with a brief pause, returning it to the correct finger as she tucked the gloves into her skirt. Archaic words came to her tongue then, of something far darker, far stronger. Both her seeing eye and blind one remained fixed upon Latulepi as she extended her hands, cupping them together as one might hold up a handful of water. The stitched corpse would feel the elf drawing upon the tattered remnants of a soul that had been long dead as she sought to pull the drow's very being free of its shell. The essence would materialize in her cupped palms as a cracked and dull soulgem. From there, the elf would repair it. Her mouth opened as she sang the eerie cadence of another, far more powerful spell. It fed off her own energy, and the twisted darkness of the forest, both of which were drawn inward through the necromancer's being and then expelled when her jaw fell slack and her mouth opened. Blackened breath reached outward, curling around the broken soulgem and obscuring it from view as it worked to repair the damaged essence of the drow girl. When it faded, the soulgem cast an eldritch glow that illuminated their features with an eerie, verdant glow. Then, a moment later, the elf crushed it between her hands, pulverizing it into a glittering, green dust. Another exhale of air blew the souldust from her palm and guided it to Latulepi, where it would merge once more with its body and return autonomy to the drow girl.

Latulepi can only stand obediently as the tendrils work to mend and reinforce the stitching that holds her together. She does not move despite the swirling darkness around her and the retaking of her soul which leaves the corpse child absent of herself. Detached from her body more than her own limbs tend to be. The sensation of having her soul reconstructed into a whole is an uncomfortable yet completing one. Those absent eyes fall to the renewed gem in Larewen's cupped hands and remained there is silence and motionlessness while the gem is shattered. Its essence, Latulepi's essence, oozes of darkness and corruption from her creator's magic with a new strength as it melds with its vessel through the current of Larewen's breath. For the first time, as her deadened, ashen brown orbs ascend to her master's face, within them is lucidity that only Larewen might notice. Torn lips twitch to form letters, hesitating in their worry to pick the right ones, "Larewen?" Her voice hoarses past the mold of her tongue.

Larewen curled her pale lips upward into a hybrid cross between a smile and a sneer, pleased to find Latulepi to be more articulate as she repaired a spell that had been poorly cast quite some time ago. "I prefer when you refer to me as mother," she said, her voice a silvery coldness that was both haunting and cold. Pyoshia had called her Matron Mother Corrupt, before she'd retreated to her tree for good. She reached out, pale fingers touching the decayed flesh of Latulepi's face, then curling beneath her chin to tilt those dull, brown eyes upward to her own. Her thumb ran across the torn lips before her hands were pulled back. "Do you know who and what you are now, dear heart?"

Latulepi smiles a slow, growing smile that bares her rotting teeth in such an unnerving manner to any normal person considering her absence of eyelids and partially missing lips. "Mother," she rasps in repeat, finding herself contented with the sound of such a name. The girl pauses in realization that this is the first time she could identify such a sensation. It is strange. Exciting. "I am..Latulepi," the corpse child carefully states with her gaze attentively on her mother, "I.. am your.. child." She answers, taking a moment to search for a fitting word she had heard in the past.

Larewen's smile was a bit more genuine this time. In fact, it was... motherly and endearing, in the worst sort of way: she doted upon the corpse child, and found her to be extremely beautiful. "Yes, yes you are," she said softly. It was as close to a true child as she could possibly have, after all. She extended a hand toward Latulepi, with the intend of guiding her home to House Dragana. "Come, dear heart."