dev 1 - realization

This was by far not the first time that she's been treated by him. The moment they walked inside, he washed his hands with appliance of water magic, if only to put on the medical gloves from the kit. He imagines that the circuitry, alongside with actual vocal chords, were all damaged in the process of battle- still, with the tools given, he could treat it properly.

The Biomancer begins coaxing down the flesh for acceptance of mithril, his hands reaching out to carefully wrap it around her neck on a thin 'ring' of sort, one energized with magic in order to preserve the fuel of energy throughout that area. It would seem that despite the injury inflicted upon her, when it's eased around her neck, it makes the matters easier to bear with... though, it does not grant full recovery, unfortunately.

A subtle hum, and he lays his hands upon it, applying the runes that should energize it- though he makes a touch with her skin, it feels awfully cold, as if the warmth of his hands receded from something. Even during the treatment, he does not remove the mask, his eyes only giving an odd, subtle glow of blue form beneath.

"It should be done."

A soothing wave of relief washes over her... it would seem that the odd injury called for unorthodox treatment, with the energy of mithril and its ability to hold runes being used, along with physical coaxing of Biomancy. Perhaps, that's how it was meant to be.

"We might, mmm... figure something out to heal you."
(Arthur Rowan)

She finds her well being beginning to dwindle down into absolutely nothing. At one point in time, she was the most feared warrior within Dawn...Standing above the others due to the raw power that she held within her body. And now, she's beginning to be looked at as some kind of joke. Another stepping stone for others to get within the way of the Rowan. In the end, she understands that in some degree...She is fragile in comparison to most others. Sure, she might be capable of taking pain. She might even be guaranteed to live through most of the grievous wounds given due to her heritage...But it doesn't change the fact that somewhere along the line...Somehow, she has weakened herself.

"I don't understand what's happening to me.." Unhappiness is exaggerated after the surgery. Her own hands would carefully drift towards her neck...The ice cold child of the Heifangs grip remains steady...And yet, she can feel herself burning upon the inside. This shame. This...Twisted shame. She can almost choke upon the very sin that she feels..

"When did I become so weak?" Lost. Confusion. She looks down to her hands in idle thought...The fear, the fright, the anticipation. She never felt like this within her life and yet...Now, she's beginning to look closer and closer to death within the eyes...And she just cannot simply fathom how this is happening.

"...What am I doing wrong, Arthur..?"
(Bei Rowan)

The same could be said about him.

It's not that he's been awfully weak... it's the fact that he's fallen off his grace, and the more time passed, the more it caved in with the pressure that could not be seen or felt before. It's something that they had to deal with... something they had to know how to escape from.

"We've grown old. I... I think I may have made a mistake, too."

But deep inside, he felt betrayed. Not just by the outcome of all his effort, but by the outcome of the others- everything was seemingly falling apart, and despite the fatal mistake of Huangzhou that led to deaths of many, still, they remained oh so vulnerable... it almost felt as if any following raid could result in their deaths. Almost.

'This cruel, decaying flesh...'
'An excellence... reduced to a prisoner...'
'A cage within theprison.'

It's taunting. Even now, his thoughts whispered of the curse that he failed to defeat, the curse that was now consuming his body, inch by inch... until there will be nothing left. By that time, perhaps, he would be fairly old anyway, but... at what price does this power come, really?

"I think... I think you may need to learn the technique that Tim had learned."

"It may be the only way to get you back on track."
(Arthur Rowan)

"A mistake..?" She doesn't seem to understand. "Do...Do you believe that your choice in magics were a mistake?" She finds herself beginning to smile at the thought - believing that it was rather quaint of him to mention something of the sort. However, in the end, she's beginning to agree with him as well. "A part of me would have said that such a thing doesn't exist...That you can't make a mistake in choosing magics when you're born with a certain affinity but.." She finds herself beginning to grow silent. "I know that things are different now. The truth of the matter is that while Meiyo had gotten lucky...He simply did things better than me." She looks away...Her frown beginning to deepen as she reaches a hand up carefully..

 Slowly, but surely, would she attempt to pull the mask away from his features. Perhaps, in effort of seeking affection. "Why must I learn a technique from the man that has fallen?" she questions softly. "I don't want to simply learn something because he possesses it..I don't want to fall within another man's shadow, not when I can be much, much more vicious." And yet, even she knows that it's not true.

 "...I know it'd be the only way to get me on track but...I hate the thought of it. There-...There must be another way, right?" But surely, she knows that there isn't. She might have no choice but to push forward..
(Bei Rowan)

There were always many reasons for the failure, and one of them was precisely just that- for as long as she was unable to deal with the likes of Zeriel, of Hayashi, those that were hiding behind the strength of certain magics... there was nothing else for her to do. There was little to no hope, unless they do the mistake first. And that... that was not reliable circumstance.

"No. He had not fallen. You must learn from him - he may not be as powerful as we think, but the technique he possesses is undeniably powerful. And should you grasp it... it would mean that you'll get the best of him as well."

But when she pulls upon her mask, there is no affection to be found. The features of the Rowan had grown pale, much paler... like the reflection of a dead man, yet somehow still standing. It's somewhat comparable to Vampire, how pale they remain, and yet... yet there's something that tells it's onlygoing to get much worse. His skin becoming lightly cracked, his body doing his best to reject the magical intruder that now attempts to destroy his body, but failing to do so. It's all only a matter of time.

A pale shadow of a man he used to be.

"We aren't in position where we can allow ourselves to disregard something just because we hate the thought of it. It's not falling within another man's shadow... but adapting."

"I know you can do it. I wouldn't want to lose you one day, because I've heard the news that you were taken by the enemy."

"Do it... at least for me."
(Arthur Rowan)


 There is a moment when she finds herself beginning to frown in nothing more than idle thought. "I had the thought of it, truly...I do." It is suffocating- sickening. But in the end, she knows that it cannot be helped. She'd have to find a way to not just bypass the magics of those that are around. She'd have to muscle her way through it - to become unstoppable, to become unbreakable. For now, the woman would simply lean forward - pressing her lips against the chin of the pale Rowan..

"I can only adapt so much to all things that are around before I fall apart. I'm nothing more than a drakanite...And there's only so much that we can do as warriors." Her hand raises briefly, pressing lightly upon the flesh of the Rowan before she pulls away. The silence would occur before she looks away..

"You're breaking."

 The touch. The feel. There wasn't the warmth that she had been used to when she had touched him...Instead, it was lukewarm...As if he were stuck between the world of the living and the dead. "I can do it for you...But you have to do something for me, as well." Whispers within their humble home, the fright beginning to occur...

"When you said that you were going numb- is this what you meant? Why were you- Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"
(Bei Rowan)

It is good that she understands. There's only so much that she can do, with all that has been stocked against them... but there's only so much he could do as well, before he would inevitably break. He lives on a limited time, and the cracks upon his skin that remain very little, they will grow, and they will force his flesh to rot away, piece by piece... until there's nothing that resembles his old self.

"I know that you can do it... we've been through worse. Much worse. Please... just try. For me."

And yet, despite his best efforts to both disregard the issue at hand, and to direct the flow of conversation to something else, it's obviously seen by her... an expression of displeasure draws upon his face, and his sight goes elsewhere. He falls silent, unable to make up his mind as to why he did not want to tell her about this, but he soon realizes.

"I just didn't want for you to be bothered by it."

Silence. When she kisses him, he hardly responds. He wishes he could feel her touch, but now, it was hardly an appliance of pressure. There was no fluttering feeling of his heart he'd experience before, no deep sensation that came about with her kiss. Nothing.

"Yes. This."

"I... I am but an unholy mockery of life. A mockery of it's freedom. Entrapped and betrayed by the eternal life."

"I'm born into the cruel ideals I would've served... but I... I..."

For a moment, it almost feels like his eyes water. As much as he'd try to hide it, he isn't even capable much - and the tears that would've fallen on his cheeks, instead, end up a frosted, glittering dust upon his eyes.

"How far I've fallen!"

"I marched towards death, but now I..."
"I wish it was my own..."
(Arthur Rowan)

"The truth of the matter is that...I think I'm becoming too old for this." She finds herself beginning to smile softly, a gentle laugh beginning to press upon the shoulder of her lover. "The truth of the matter is that with time...All old things tend to fade away- even the oldest souls. I once thought that, maybe, just maybe...I could be indomitable, unbeatable. But time and time again, I've noticed that it's impossible. That I couldn't go on...That I wasn't able to do everything that I could." And yet, what more is there to say? All in all, the woman was surprised. Frightened, nearly...At her own ineptitude. "I've never been this incompetent in my life. I've never been more...Weak." And yet, the breaking is something that she has learned to become used to.

"All these years ago- I made a promise to you and you alone, Arthur Rowan. That no matter what happens, no matter what occurs- that I will always be by your side. And that I will always belong to you." There is a moment when she finds her hands beginning to drift about his features. Fingertips carefully press where his flesh is...An idle caress, a gentle moment. "Why is it that you are crying, Arthur..?" She questions, bringing herself forward.

 Perhaps, it is within her Delirium that she does these things. But...She offers him a kiss. A gentle peck upon the lips- soft, sweet. "Why is it that you wheep when you've done so many amazing things?" Her hands would pull him forth, closer to her frame. "You might waste away...You might've lost yourself to your magic and your dreams but what about a body cannot be regained? What about you cannot come back?" She questions, her smile beginning to widen..

"You are a man made of impossible things. You are a man that has done so much right within this world...So why..?" She questions. "Don't wish death upon yourself...Instead, cling to life. If you want to live, then you musn't give up. It's...It's hypocritical, you know." She tries her best to not cry, to act as if she would never miss his touch again...But somewhere within her world, she is afraid. Frightened. "I don't want you to leave me."
(Bei Rowan)

"This cruel, decaying flesh..."
"...I loathe it."

No matter how much he's done to outperform himself, time and time again, it was simply not enough. Any man in the right mind would despair... to see the work of your life backfire upon you so much, to see it not work the way you intended to. Even now, despite all that he's done, he decays... an irony, considering that he can perfect others.

But not himself.

"I don't want us to ever fade out. I don't want us to be so... weak, incompetent. I'm falling apart, and you're growing too old... I... I want better than this." A pause. Even when she tries to comfort him, it does little justice- instead, it stirs deep hatred for everything that tried to stop his progress, for everything that delayed him. If only he had more time, maybe this would be different. "I cannot accept it. I just can't."

"I remember, still. I remember everything that we've said to one another..." Despite the despair and anguish he feels... the sheer fact that he cannot even cry properly brings about an amused, if sorrowful laugh. "Look at what I am now, Bei. Look at what I've been turned into."

"A beast... forged by this curse I've sought to cure. Where I was excellence, I am now deformed. Recast poorly with those crude materials... But this flesh well serves the purpose of Azraelism. Even now, I... I'm still capable of granting nigh perfect immortality to others... not the same as Azrael's, but to freeze them in their state eternally. Young forever."

Where the touch was given to him, there was hardly any heat, any warmth left in him... for now, perhaps he yet functions as semi-living, but with time, it would rapidly decay away. If anything, he's got limited time.

"I'm an embodiment of what Azraelism would desire. A powerful Necromancer, capable enough to lead thousands, to bring back people to their former glory. But I... I am Damned."

"And I weep because I don't know how to fix this... for the first time in my life, Bei, I don't know what to do. I don't know how I can possibly revert this, how I can un-do this curse."

"I am not a god, I am not a king, I am..."
"... worse."
(Arthur Rowan)

In all truths, she wasn't sure how things would turn out. When she had married him, she did not imagine that she would be watching him fade infront of her. She did not imagine that he would be the one decaying like this- within this manner. Instead, she believes that the worst is happening. That in some impossible, inexorable way...That this was the world's way of taking things from him that could not be given back so easily. And now, it presents the struggle. For now, she becomes drunken upon these thoughts - damning the heavens themselves rather than the Rowan's own ambitions for the outcome. For now, she allows herself to falter to the silence of her own heart and the shivering of her own limbs...Because even she did not know what to do.

It's not like you to feel so hopeless. It wasn't like them to be this defeated by something that has occurred and yet...With all of these scars, with all of this trembling weakness, she is uncertain as to how she could possibly move on. As of now...The woman could do nothing more than shake her head from left to right.

"I don't understand, Arthur.." Even as he wheeps infront of her, even as she trembled within his grasp, she cannot help herself. "I don't see a monster, nor an abomination- I see the man that I've fallen in love with. I see the father of my children, the man who swore that he would become a god, that he would ascend.." And yet...Look at all of this. Deformed, broken, decaying away because of his own dream..

"You can make others perfect, yes...But you signed up for this. We did. There's no need for all of the tears, Arthur...Because, we're- you are stronger than this." Her breathing falters into baited breathes, her hands gripping upon either side of his features.

"Don't say such damned things!" It is foolish, asinine. "We have the world at our fingertips...We have so many things that we could use, ranging from vampires and neries that are capable of taking things away from people and using it to their own benefit. You can-...If you can manipulate and preserve life, then you can also take it. You can take things from people...You can become perfect again, whole again."
(Bei Rowan)

In all of his life, he was giving for the others perhaps too much... maybe if he had focused more on his own body, on his own blessings, then perhaps he could avoid the fate like this, but... still, the blessings he imagined turned out to be a curse instead - a curse that gave him strength, but destroyed him at the very core. Turning him into something wicked, something that he dreaded, something that he wished to remove from this very world...

And yet, he's become the victim to that very thing.

"I... I am caged within this form."
"But this foul form reminds me of my purpose... to remove the curse that is rot and flay that comes with Necromancy."

He promised so many things, but now... now he couldn't be so sure anymore. What if he would never return to his old form? What if he could never resemble his whole self again? What if... he would never have the ability to feel her warmth again? So many questions, and not enough answers... as much as he tries to stay collected, his mind brews a storm like no other.

'To war, Arthur. They shall not rob us of our dream.'
'Rip away everything from them. Sunder their very souls.'
'March towards them. March, as our vengeance is at hand.'

These come at the most inconvenient moments... even now, he hears something that has a point - to take it from others. That's how Vampires are sustained, after all... or at least, that's how they've sustained themselves for so long.

"You're right..."
"We could... we could do something like that. Maybe give me the new strength to sap it from others... maybe gather the sacrifices. After all, sacrifices had awakened even the Wraith."

"I... I think I know what I can do."
(Arthur Rowan)

"Remember what we're here for." She keeps her features buried within his shoulder - her own frown beginning to deepen considerably. "Remember what we're doing this for..." Not just for Dawn, but for him. She knows that out of everyone else within this world, that he is much more capable of perfecting necromancy. Of perfecting himself. However, that doesn't mean that it would come without a price. Most often that naught, such things of that magnitude would have to be sacrificed. A life for a life. Someone's youth and essence for another person's own. If he is capable of shuffling souls...Then what else could he potentially do with those that he has captured? In times such as these...The woman would do nothing more than nod silently..

"There are ways to fix this.
 Noone ever said that it would be easy but you and I- we both can do it. We both can be better than this."

 Frozen in time, pale in comparison. She is frightened to see what she could potentially become within his grasp - but even she knows that it is necessary, especially if she wishes to not vanish from his grasp forever. Being frozen in time...Being nearly perfected is all that is necessary. "Come-...Come sleep with me. We can worry about these things in the morning and come up with ways to fix you."
(Bei Rowan)

Even now, he's been growing terribly restless.

Oddly, despite him falling apart, despite him feeling numb... he was not weaker in any degree possible. He required no nourishment, no sleep, no rest, although such things could stave off what would soon become the quick decay of his body. Still, perhaps it could resist just for few more years until it settles in. Other than that...

"I hope there are. I don't want to become an abomination of flesh... a form of filth, only to be sustained by the cursed magic that I believed to be better. But I..."

"I think we could do it better."

Until he becomes a wicked, foul representation of what he used to be... there are moments where she can still see him as former self, the moments that should be cherished. A simple nod, and by taking her hand, he speaks.

"I don't truly need rest... not anymore."

"But I would still give anything to simply lay with you like this... come. Let's rest."
(Arthur Rowan)