video; un: deathweaver

[respired]

[ So, that relatively cheerful guy dancing with everybody on the beach--he's gone. He's out of here. Koltira leans forward, his expression pained, jaw clenched. There's a flat piece of wood on the ground beside him with the start of an intricate filigree carved into it, but he's set it aside. He's focused entirely on the jewelry. ]

I feel unwell.

[ His guttural, echoing voice is rougher than usual; he sounds like jagged rocks scraping against each other, and the strange ethereal reverberation does nothing to better the effect.

He's experiencing, for the first time in years, something like fatigue. It's discomfiting, impossible. His kind does not tire. And yet here he is, feeling--not exhausted, but legitimately weary. ]

The ocean is not rife with magic, but it provides some sustenance.

[ He shakes his head, as though trying to clear his vision. Some sustenance. Not enough. ]

If anyone has found other sources, I would know of them.

[ His voice drops to an almost feral growl. ]

Or a solution.

Comments

[respired]

[ Koltira stares up at him, noting his drained appearance. What kind of help could Bariyan possibly hope to offer in his state? ]

You should not have come.

[sadsack]

Then you shouldn't have told me your location. [ Or something. Yeah. This is totally Koltira's fault.

Bariyan closes the distance between them and executes a sort of slow collapse, until he's sitting next to Koltira, his back to the tree. He takes his hat off and puts it in his lap. ]

You looked a lot better last time I saw you.

[respired]

I did not realize your position.

[ Frown ... ]

So did you.

[sadsack]

[ Bariyan scoffs. ]

What? I always look like this.

[ He gestures to Koltira, slowly, crooking a finger at him. ]

Come here. Sit down.

[respired]

[ He chuckles, his eyes half-closed. ]

You are a shameless liar.

[ But he sits, why not. ]

[sadsack]

[ Bariyan shrugs. Sure. Whatever. ]

So-- you need another source of magic?

[respired]

[ If he had his usual temper, he'd be shaking the equilibrium out of Bariyan right now. The man has done almost nothing but lie since their first meeting. Constantly. Carelessly. Like it's an instinct.

But now ... now he just rubs his temples. ]

You do not seem like a viable candidate.

[sadsack]

Why the hell not? I'm perfectly healthy. For a dead man.

[ Bariyan smiles. Very briefly. That ends when he reaches up to his neck and tugs at a loose stitch. ]

You're not going to find a better source of magic, anyway. This world's bereft. Everyone else needs theirs. I don't.

[ To an extent. To what extent, Bariyan doesn't actually know, but he also doesn't care. ]

[respired]

[ Flatly. ]

You look like hell itself, Bariyan. If I take your magic, I may well put you into an actual grave.

[sadsack]

[ Bariyan sighs in frustration, and pulls again at his stitches. This time with purpose. It snaps tight before giving way, slipping a few more inches out of his skin. There's a little blood. Not that much, in his opinion. ]

I'm fine. I'll survive.

[ And not like it. He closes his eyes, and keeps pulling. ]

[respired]

[ Koltira seems to realize just what Bariyan's doing, then--or at least, the surface of it. ]

Are you--destroying your stitches?

[ Blearily. Dumbfounded. ]

cw gore

[sadsack]

Yes.

[ By now, Bariyan's pulled out about half of his stitches. He stops there. That's enough. He drops the thread, and rolls a shoulder. Right. The fun part.

He grabs his neck with one hand, and -- for lack of a better phrase -- pries it open, hinging on the side that's still stitched together. With his other hand, he reaches into the opening, into his neck, and -- also for lack of a better phrase -- roots around in the meat for a bit.

It doesn't take long to find what he's looking for. He grabs ahold of it, and pulls his hand back out. Without even looking at what he's found, he holds his bloody fist out to Koltira. ]

Here.

[ He opens his fingers. He's holding a bloody, black shard. Hard to tell if it's wood or stone -- even Bariyan can't say, after all this time. It's rock-solid, but the edges look splintered.

He makes a sound that's either another sigh, or a small chuckle. ]

Happy birthday.

[respired]

[ Tired as he is, Koltira still looks on this enterprise with perhaps too much interest. He watches carefully as Bariyan literally opens himself up, as the blood trickles down his neck, over his collarbone.

He runs his tongue over his canines as he observes Bariyan's exposed neck muscle: corded and dark, red and raw. If he weren't so enervated, he'd pounce on Bariyan right now.

But he is, so he doesn't. He just waits. ]

Hmn.

[ He takes the shard. Holds it up.

Runs his tongue along its jagged length, slowly, so as not to cut himself. There's magic in the blood, too; there always is. The best kind. ]

How much can I take?

[sadsack]

Uh.... [ Bariyan stares as Koltira licks the shard, frowning. Was that really necessary, man? Fuck, Bariyan doesn't know. He's tired now. That was a lot of work.

Bariyan leans his head back against the tree and closes his eyes again. ]

I don't know... that's not something I can quantify. However much you want.

[respired]

A dangerous offer.

[ Koltira's inclined to take everything, everything that anyone can offer him, everything they have and beyond.

He at least stops licking the shard, though.

Instead, he sets his palms flat upon it, and the glow of magic drain starts: a bright, pale blue light with the crisp scent of the arcane. Koltira draws on the well of energy contained in the shard, pulling it into his body. As he does so, his eyes brighten, his skin cracks. The thread strengthens, at its usual price. ]

[sadsack]

[ Bariyan can feel the accelerated drain immediately. It doesn't hurt, or anything, it just feels... odd. The world seems a little further away than before, and continues to recede. His only response to all this is: interesting.

Bariyan blinks, blearily. ]

Just... put it back when you're done, will you...?

[respired]

[ Koltira does not maintain his channel for long. He can see the weakness in Bariyan's body, in his milky eyes, in the exhausted tone of his voice. ]

That is enough, I think.

[ He picks up the shard--there's still some magic left to it. He wants to know what it is, and how it sustains Bariyan, but perhaps that's a talk for another time. ]

I will not be responsible for your death, Bariyan.

[sadsack]

[ It's enough. Bariyan's magic is already drained by whatever's happening here, in Nalawi -- draining it further certainly hasn't helped matters. He blinks and realizes, vaguely, that he can no longer see. Anything.

There's a buzzing in his ears, and a horrible pressure.

He manages to speak, somehow. ]

That's... kind of you....

[ And that's it. He leans back against the tree, closes his eyes in an attempt to squeeze the buzzing out of his head, and loses consciousness. Stasis returns. He's missed it. ]