The Third Step [10/1] Mutation Dev

[17:37] Ardith Illarian says, "Lil' buck."
[17:37] Azarashi says, "Ardith."
[17:37] Ardith Illarian says, "With me. We got work."
[17:37] Azarashi says, "I've be off, my friends."
[17:38] Azarashi says, "Let's begin at once."
[17:40] Azarashi says, "It's Halloween Ardith let's get sexy."
[17:42] The table is already set up like an operating theater. All her tools of the trade are there. The familiar pots of ink, utensils, and other paraphernalia.

But there is something else today with all of it. A small wooden boxes sits at the edge of the table.

"Ya know the drill...hop up."
(Ardith Illarian)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:44] Ardith Illarian asks, "Tell me...dryads are good at growin' plants and things. Right?"
[17:44] Ardith Illarian says, "Also you're gonna have to strip down. Got a loincloth over there ready for ya. We'll be goin' down your legs today."
[17:45] He knows the drill. He hops up.

Through the course of these operations, he's gotten used to the antiseptic-feel of the room. Though he can't help but scrunch his nose at the sight of those tools. Those various sharp tools. Who knows what they're for.

In response to Ardith, he nods his head while his eyes naturally drift over to the curious addition to today's operation.

"Ah, my legs." he echoes. Without another thought, he obliges and strips down to the bare minimum.

"What did you need my powers for?"
(Azarashi)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:46] Ardith Illarian says, "Ya ain't answer the question."
[17:53] There is little patience at all from the Accursed. Less than usual, and she was already working at a bare minimum. She unhinges the lid.

Within the little box is a branch, and its presence alone is probably not a boon to the holy magi. It drips with potent occultic magic, just as its thorns, as myriad as they are, drip with poison.

"Can ya grow things or not?"
(Ardith Illarian)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:59] With his bare, gangly legs dangling over the edge of the table and his hands crossed over his lap, he nods to Ardith.

"I can grow all manners of things so long as it's tied to nature."

Though he speaks to the Accursed, his attention said otherwise. Olive eyes narrowed at the little unwelcoming surprise waiting for him. His lips pursed at it. It was like a scraping of the dreadwoods consolidated in that box.

Azarashi says nothing else, mentally prepping for what's to come.
(Azarashi)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:59] Ardith Illarian says, "I won't lie..."
[18:00] Ardith Illarian says, "This is gonna hurt the most."
[18:00] Azarashi says, "So be it. I've made my peace. If it emboldens me, then I will accept it."
[18:01] Ardith Illarian asks, "It will...but this'll likely be poison to ya until your body adjusts. Do ya understand?"
[18:01] Ardith Illarian says, "Sometimes to build ourselves up...we gotta break ourselves down."
[18:01] Azarashi says, "Then break me."
[18:10] 'Break me'

Ardith rarely ever, in spite of what those around her think, is in the habit of forcing others to do something they do not wish. They paint her a demon and, while a demon she may truly be in her coal black, dead heart, it is not for that reason.

Azarashi has done nothing to earn her scorn, not like so much of this terrible city. He knows what must be done to achieve greatness and progress. And here he is, stripped damn near to bare, and asking that she help him pay that price.

Her unmutated fingers trace over his cheek as she stares down at him. The touch is not charged with anything carnal, nothing of the sort.

It is admiration, in its truest form. He understands what she and so few others do. The Dryad is not willing to stagnate with the rest of the city; he desires to push forward, as nature must, to adapt and evolve.

It is beautiful.

She slumps over to her tools, prepares her inks, andsets them down by his legs.

"Alrigh' then...I'll lay down the groundwork for the tattoos. That's nothin new. Then you and me together'll add the energy needed. Me to activate the runes, you to grow this branch up and over your legs.

"Ya understand?"
(Ardith Illarian)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:15] Neutral eyes simply glance over to Ardith's direction, feeling her fingers against his cheek. It doesn't send shivers down his spine or make him uncomfortable. The things she does to him. How she treats him. Seeing other sides of Ardith.

At this point it's really hard to simply call her a "friend". She was his benefactor. And he didn't mean it in the detached sort. Throughout these procedures he's learned to rely on her sort of "aftercare" so to speak.

It was a result of that he'd learn to bare the pain and carry the burden of so many other.

To that end, he'd wholly accept his transformation.

"Acceptable. Ardith before we begin. I'd like to thank you for confiding in me. Last night, I saw a different side of you. Thank you for trust in me. And forgive my weak resolve.

I'm ready to do whatever it takes."
(Azarashi)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:21] Ardith is not always a cruel woman. There is a rhyme and a reason for all she does, even if those reasons aren't always based on pure, cool logic.

It's simple, really; there are those she has deemed fit to be worth caring about, and there are those are not worth caring about at all. Azarashi finds himself fortunate to be in the former category.
The list for it is dreadfully short.

"...And thank ya. For believin' in what I do. They thought I was just out to turn ya into a monster. I still wanna know who told ya that crock. But I'm glad ya saw the truth for yourself."

This part is the easy portion. Taking the sulfurous ink and hand-poking the tattoos. Her hand is steady from over a decade of earnest practice. Probably closer to two decades. Laying the groundwork is hardly the most painful part of the procedure at all.
(Ardith Illarian)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:25] This was a real epiphany moment, in which the gods themselves would descend and grant him the insight needed to go through with this. Just like any Greek legend would go. Save for the tragic end parts.

Right now he was in the care of one not so capricious. While she laid down the tattoos, Azarashi shut his eyes and concentrated on the reasons why.

In this current state, he was no match for anyone up in the mountains. How would he be of use to Elyon? Deadweight beside Adar? None of that would matter once he attained the promised power.

The anticipation made his skin crawl. Or maybe that was just the ink.
(Azarashi)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:32] Ardith used to be weak, just as he was. She wanted something more. But each time she offered her olive branch, her ideas for a brighter future and her willingness to help, she was rebuffed. Time and time again.

Yet she still stubbornly pursues her idea, even if the world has made her heart go dark.

The tattoos themselves are simple things. Time is what they take more than anything, and Azarashi has learned to keep himself still and pliant for the sake of her work. This third session, as far as the inking itself is concerned, goes the smoothest of all.

She connects the long lines of tattoos up from his arm, trails them down his sides, and along his legs where they will brace him. A lattice for the energy to flow and his vines to grow.

Then it's time. Ardith picks up the poison-oozing branch in her mangled hand.

"This is it...no turnin' back. You're ready to work with me?"

The power, in this case, is his handsboth literally and symbolically. This one limb of dread ebony holds his future in its clutches.
(Ardith Illarian)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:41] One funny thing that helps him pass the time while Ardith painstakingly drew each and every line and lattice was pretending that he was a wedding cake. Decorated for presentation and at the end he will be cut into by the happy couple.

Happy couple. Sho. And the Syril and Sumiye. That put him at ease.

And unconsciously it helped his heart rate normalize while the finishing touches were placed across his legs. The phantom pain from his last two operations crept up on him like ghouls on Halloween night.

Lying on that table, baring everything for Ardith to see; his vines entrenched deep in his arms, his altered eyes, and now for his legs.

Olive hues flicked to the Accursed standing before him and only fire reflected in his eyes. A firm nod was given as he adds his hands to the branch, appendages charged with mana.

Whatever she does to him, he follows suit. Nature magic swelled throughout his body, ready to assimilate this occult-laden wood intohis circuits.
(Azarashi)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:50] Each of them holds a separate part of the branch. Ardith doesn't mind the thorns- due to her nature, the poison isn't harmful to her. With each of them making contact onto the limb she presses the tips of its barbs down onto his skin.

He adds his mana for growth, she adds hers to empower the runes, and all of it comes into place at once. The occultic wood grows and spreads, following the lattice work of sigils across his body. Up one leg, down the other, then further up the trunk of his torso to join with the other vines and begin overtaking them.

As it grows more of the thorns dig into his flesh, injecting him with the foul occultic poison. It enters his system and begins to eat away at his circuits from the inside. Given that his magic is the exact opposite, it can only be worse.

Breaking in order to regrow. That's what it's all about.

Soon his body is covered and overtaken in dark, malign overgrowth. In the long run it will make him stronger, yes. In the short term he will suffer the effects of the poison, weakening him constantly. That is, unless he should undo the work of what's now grown into his skin.
(Ardith Illarian)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:58] Injection.

That was a word that popped into his head. Multiple, many, lots of barbs dig into his skin and many more as he wills the wretched thing to grow around him. He was very literally injecting poison into his body, scrambling his circuits. So naturally his body flat out rejects the invaders.

His skinny body clenches and outlines his bones so prominently. Azarashi's face twists into a look of disgust and pain so fearfully unlike his benign face. Innocent deer-like eyes now coursed with Hel-fire.

To describe it in a human sort of way, it felt like every bit of his insides were dissolving in stomach acid. Slow and gradual but very much disturbing. But it didn't swallow him whole right away; it started from his toes and up his legs. Eating him up an inch at a time.

While his body refused, the dryad willfully sits upright and forced himself to absorb every bit of that poison-laden wood. A former Azarashi would've perished at thispoint. But he was different now.

The deer screamed through gritted teeth, assimilating the wood into his legs. And what felt like years of pain lasted minutes until his own ministrations were finished. Finally.

That pallid skin of his took on a more washed out color. Once it was over, he collapsed back onto the table soaked with sweat. Arms dangled limp over the edge while he continued to feel the effects course through his veins, surging and pulsing every now and then to remind him of what he had just done.

"Ardith," he choked out. "Help me get up."
(Azarashi)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:02] The Accursed is watchful over the Dryad. He is her charge now, her latest creation, whether he likes it or not. She is not Gehenna; she will not abandon her own, her responsibility.

His body has grown stronger, as has his resolution. When the worst of the throes is through she reaches down to pick him up, holding him against her. Ardith reaches for a cloth to begin mopping the sweat from his brow.

"I got ya. I got ya," she affirms.

Fingers probe beneath his chin, along his neck, searching for a vein to take his pulse. Complications are not impossible and she is vigilant for them. Her work will not be half-assed.

"Ya done good, lil' buck. S'alrigh'."

In time he will have to adjust to the toxin. For now he must suffer its worst effects.
(Ardith Illarian)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:06] The Frankenstein's monster rises from his sweat-soaked table. While he desperately wished he could say his body is numb at this point, pain spiked constantly. It felt like a pulsing spike ball needling his insides at rhythmic intervals. And he winced each and every time.

His mind is absolutely empty except for the carnal instinct for survival. Should he lose concentration for even a second, the deer feared he'd pass out. And die.

"This is it...Right? I'm. Complete." His voice sounded hollow.
(Azarashi)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:09] The Accursed keeps him aloft and held, still training her attention on his pulse with her brow furrowed. The first few moments after were critical. Would his heart give out? How high was that risk?

For now it seems to hold steady, if weak.

"Ya are...this is the last procedure. Ya done it. Ya wait for it to take hold now and for your body to adjust to the poison."
(Ardith Illarian)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:14] He took a breath. Hold. Exhale.

Idle fingers toyed at his long hair. Blonde was...so last year. He thinks about dyeing, to ease his transition into his new body. A new look sounded good.

"Splendid.
...I'll be fine. I know my body pretty well. I'll be okay. I'll try to get used to this new...augment. You don't have to stay. I'll try and walk when I feel better."

He eyes the bottle on the far end of the room.

"...Anything I can use to dye hair with? I'm thinking about a darker green..."
(Azarashi)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:17] The Accursed, in spite of her prickly ways and her vile magics, attempts to comfort the Drayd. She pets his head, between his horns, and keeps him held aloft.

"I ain't got to. But I will. Ya need help walkin'?" she offers.

"If dark green is what you're wantin'...I got some inks that'd maybe work. Ain't sure. You're gonna feel sick for a while. Either way. You need to take it easy."
(Ardith Illarian)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:19] The Accursed's touch was appreciated, but it did throw off his concentration. In spite of that he kept silent about that but anyway.

"In a little bit I'll try walking. In the mean time I'll make do with this very dirty table." He bats away at the sweat and dampness. Or tries to. "I'll take it easy. I'll rest, rest, rest, and then I'll meet you later."
(Azarashi)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:21] Ardith Illarian asks, "Whatever you're comfortable...ain't go overdoin' it. Alrigh'?"
[19:21] Azarashi says, "Of course. Of course."
[19:22] The Accursed slowly relinquishes her hold on him, one last pat to his head.

"Ya know how to find me if ya need anythin'. Be well."
(Ardith Illarian)