The children were safe inside of the Hunters' headquarters, deep in the heart of enemy territory. Cimiron himself had decided to return to Danarium, the enemies of the city were looming upon the horizon in a mass that threatened to swallow the entirety of the city, especially with the now hostile Frostvalians coming from the northern front.

The Paragon would only sigh, walking into the church and staring at all of the statues of heroes that lined the halls. How many of these erections of olden day heroes would disappear, should New Alteros take over? The enormous man clad in the armor of Kraus would strut to the statue of Pendragon, the man whom he respected above all else.

Even Galahad.

Kneeling, the man would lace his hands together in prayer, but only after unlooping the enormous blade from his back and placing it upon the ground next to him. Humming ever so slightly, he would pay vigil to heroes of old, eyes closed, deep in thought and concentration.
(Cimiron Ganlo)
Having returned to his 'normal' body, it was only a matter of time until the mimic would go insane from the greed of needing a new face. It was insane, his thirst for a face growing exponensionally even after joining with the side that proclaimed to be 'good'. It didn't know what to do, who would be gullible enough to give the mimic a face? Who would be strong enough to quench its thirst past a few months like Soranis did? Soranis was a useless vessel- one he threw out quickly as his power became mundane and boring. Yet what else could he do?

The doors to the church of Kraus would open up, as the Mimic would enter. Cimiron would know it's him, the form he fought in the war so many years ago. This form was probably not going to bring any good memories back to anyone- especially Cimiron. Of the bloody warfare that took place on that night. He gulped, as he walked over to the man and kneeled beside him. "Koh need help..." It'd speak softly, aiming its words at any god in this place and Cimiron. The man would see that Koh's right hand would a purple colour, scratched and slightly bloodied with a black goo.

"Koh going insane... Koh need help."

(Koh)
Hearing the doors to the church open, Cimiron would be roused from his seated position, standing up and grasping his blade. Using it to prop himself up, he would turn and take a look at the person whom entered. Then flashbacks would cause Cimiron to jolt, blinking in surprise.

It was Koh, only. . . Regressed back to the time of the battle.

Remembering the carnage and the bloodshed, the hard fight that the mimic had played in order to get Cimiron's form. . . It'd cause him to reel back ever so slightly, before he would stand tall. The smell of blood filled his nostrils, the shouting of men fighting and killing, the roar of battle. . . Shaking his head, he would look upon the young mimic's hand.

"I see. . . Koh, what can I do to help ease your pain, dearest brother? If there is anything that I may do for you, I will do ir."

Lowering his head, the mimic whom believed in His teachings earned the respect of the young paladin-to-be. The man still doesn't believe that he's earned the title, no. Kraus hasn't given it to him, therefore, it could not be his own.

Part of him wondered, would Koh ask for his appearance?
(Cimiron Ganlo)
He was greedy. Yet the greed had soon become something more- a part of him which caused Koh to actually be effected by the faces he took. Like a drug, the faces would give him relief from an internal struggle for power. He wanted power. Everyone wanted power- but unfortunately. Koh was addicted to it. Addicted to gaining power until it became so boring- and then it'd move on to the next vessel of power. The mimic stared down into the ground, his hands shaking. Not from fear but from want. He was containing himself.

"Koh..."

He'd speak softly. Not speaking of his intentions. It was rude and outright disrespectful to the church to speak selfish wants inside a church. Yet was it a want? No, right now it was something Koh needed to contain himself. To not burst a bubble of rage and go insane, demanding someone's face. Restraint, something he didn't do often - yet it needed to be done... "Koh needs a face... Just for small time. Until Koh fight in war a-a-a-and win..." He'd speak confident words. "Koh take face of whoever he beats. But now he needs a face... Or Koh will go insane..." He'd shake his head in a bit of guilt.

The black 'blood' of the mimic falling onto the flooring of the church. Burning like an acid into the stone. It smelt like metal, much more mentally then any sort of blood would. It also did have a sharp- acidic smell to it. Something the man will most certainly notice. "Please help Koh fight a temporary face..." It'd beg.

(Koh)
Cimiron knew that the mimic fought with himself over his greed, his greatest sin. All had their own sins hidden deep inside of him. Cimiron's was wrath, he had almost lost himself in it several times. Even as of late, he's been prone to random mood swings in battle, fighting with emotion against His teachings. Closing his eyes for a moment, he would allow Koh's metalic voice to ring in his ears.

So, Cimiron was right. The Aspirant wished for Cimiron's form.

The thing was, the Paragon trusted Koh not to abuse the privilege of using his own face. The tall man also knew that Koh wouldn't ask, not here, unless it was a dire emergency. Being without a form or shape. . . Cimiron would gulp. But, not in fear, no. It was out of pity for the young amorphous being. Standing up tall, he would approach Koh, sword leaning against his shoulder as he walked.

"Koh. . ."

Standing in front of the mimic now, Cimiron's face was a mask of emotionlessness analyzation. But, that would eventually cave in to one of kindness and warmth. This was his mentor, who spent so much unfortunately blackscreened time teaching the young being of depravity about Kraus' word.

"You may take my face, use it as long as you need to. I trust you, brother."
(Cimiron Ganlo)
The Mimic would only look up as Cimiron spoke its name. Oh Kraus- how it didn't expect anything from this man. Why would he give anything to Koh to satisfy his greed? Why would Cimiron, a high ranking Order of Kraus member lend something as dire as an appearance to Koh. It'd gulp as Cimiron spoke what it did. Which only forced Koh back on its feet. "Ask Soranis. When Koh had his face. Koh was good- Koh won't be bad with your face." It'd nod its head again and again, in a sort of approving manner.

"Koh sorry it had to do this."

The Mimic would sigh standing around five feet off the ground. As he was just a pre-teen boy right now. "Promise no hurt." A quick warning that nothing towards him would come, the mimic would look raise its hand and touch the man's forehead. It took a few seconds, before a slight connection was made between the two. "Done." It'd say yet nothing would happen. The forehead was still being touched, until the pre-teenage boy that stood before Cimiron was a boy no more. A morphing black goo that was growing in size. Up, up and up until it was the same size as Cimiron. "There we go." It'd say, in the same voice as the Krausite that stood before him.

Now, there were two Cimirons. Wearing two different sets of clothing of course so they were easily distinguished. Alongside the ever looming depravity that was by Koh's side. "Didn't hurt. Right?"

(Koh)
Confirming mimic usage with the target...
Having leaned down a little bit to allow Koh to touch his forehead. Whether it'd be painful or not, Cimiron was ready for it. Despite the normally acidic nature of mimics, the touch to the forehead did not burn, nor smelt, nor hurt in the slightest. It simply was as if a child was touching his face. Standing up straight, he would soon be staring at. . . Himself.

It wasn't often that someone stood as tall as the behemoth of a man, but, here he was. It was a rather strange sight to behold, looking at someone else standing alongside you, only it were more like looking into a mirror. Tilting his head to the side slightly, Cimiron would touch his chest.

The rune upon it glowed underneath his armor, stinging him a little bit.

"Of course. It didn't hurt in the slightest. Except. . ." Hesitating slightly, Cimiron would nod. "Koh. Please, could you lower or lift your shirt for me?" It was a rather odd request, but Cimiron wanted to see if the rune that the Kaor had placed on him. . . He wanted to see if the rune was now on Koh's chest, and he had cursed Koh with a mark that was foreign to his body until the mimic decided to take another form.
(Cimiron Ganlo)
A mimic was a creature that copied ones DNA and magic! So a rune would surely not transfer over to the depraved created? It was difficult to tell, but the Mimic would slowly undo its armor and clothing. Lifting up its shirt to reveal. The exact same rune that was on Cimiron's chest. Yet- it was dulled out and seemed to have no magic attached to it. "Look like rune." It's give an honest opinion from the little it knew about runes to begin with. Only thought the very basics by Cynoa. "Koh have one too." It'd explain, lowering the shirt and reattaching the armor and all the fun stuff.

Its right hand would rise, as a sparkly of holy would appear. "Oh... Holy magic. Koh never had Holy magic before." A bright smile casted over its face. A new magic to play around with! Oh how wonderful! A cheer of delight, as Koh would go forward and hug its twin. "Thank. Thank." It'd speak before returning to stand opposite to him... "Koh got another question. Nothing to give don't worry. Only give wisdom." He'd ask for one last thing from the man.

A frown would quickly go over its face. "Cynoa..." The name was spoken with grief behind it. The eye of the copy would go over to the side, avoiding all eye contact with the real Cimiron. "Jeanne take her on quest. Where Jeanne was selfish. Jeanne wanted to get her sword and got Cynoa killed..." It told the truth, or what it knew. Telling Cimiron that Jeanne's selfish quest lead to Cynoa's death. "Cynoa teacher... Cynoa promise to teach Koh Rune magic..." It would release a sigh of grief.

"How does one get over someone dying?"

(Koh)
Luckily, Cimiron himself was not depraved. He could feel the depravity coming from Koh, but so long as he strove towards Kraus' holy word and redemption, then Cimiron would turn a blind eye to the stench that constantly wafted from the being.

Gazing upon the very familiar looking chest, Cimiron would look at the rune-well. It looked more like a tattoo if anything. It didn't glow with magic, like Cimiron's did. It probably wouldn't hurt or anything of the like. . . That was good. Cimiron was more than fine with that. Sighing ever so slightly, a smile came across his face, until Koh's next question.

How did someone get 'over' another one dying?

It would seem like the mimic enjoyed waking up the PTSD of the soldier, about the Saekanis Ookami and the wars that he had taken place in. Lowering his head ever so slightly, he would think hard. ". . . I was there that night. I apologize for your loss. Even though she was an occultist, I heard she served in Kraus' name. Truth be told, Koh, only time will help you in getting over a loved one's death."

Nodding, he would continue. "Find something you're passionate about and bury yourself in making yourself better. Then, when the time comes, you'll be ready to move on. Pray to the All-Father for guidance and wisdom, and thank him for taking her to Avalon to live a life of peace, until it is time to return to Eternia."
(Cimiron Ganlo)
...

It didn't like the answer.

It didn't like the answer.

It didn't like the answer.

The Mimic would blink at the man... His eyes battering with an emotionless gaze as it'd only go out with a large sigh. So there was no getting over someone that died- was there? Death and impact, a concept only beginning to be introduced into the Mimic's life. It gulped down a large amount of saliva- looking around the temple. There was no way- Its teacher was gone. Its powerful face was gone. A possession. It was Koh's face to be! It was taken by Jeanne! By her selfish actions to get a sword for herself...

"Jeanne killed Cynoa... Jeanne bring Cynoa on selfish quest..."

Cimiron could feel it, a rage brewing inside of Koh towards Jeanne. It wanted to burst out, shout and yell at the woman yet it knew that that would accomplish nothing. No. He only had one mindset for that for now... It was to repay Jeanne's selfish actions with his own. To one day take something of hers that she cares about. It will show its own greed- and allow Jeanne to feel how it feels right now. Broken.

It looked at Cimiron and nodded. "Ok..." Its voice slightly stuttered. "Just don't die in the war- ok?" It asked with a bit of a smile towards the man beside of it- allowing for his inner desire to avenge Cynoa brew.

(Koh)