FLICK
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Post by FLICK on Jun 6, 2011 6:59:01 GMT -5
He was already likely to die, the healer reasoned to himself. No point being a yes-man - he doubted grovelling got the victims of demons anywhere. "You're the first to survive a dragon attack. Well, we'll see," he amended, glancing at Altair. "I can't normally do anything for the folks who run into them. There's a room upstairs," he continued, looking up. Another look at Altair, assessing his bulk. "I'll need help getting him up the stairs though."
It took a while, Altair lolling insensibly between them - he seemed quite willing to take Vyncent's advice and pass out, after a few knocks to his broken arm. There was no other way to get him up the stairs, and it was badly broken enough for the rough treatment to do little damage - if his healing spells would work, they would work. If not, a couple of bumps would make no difference. He swam briefly back into consciousness, lying prone on a bed in the small healer's room above the bar, but his eyes slid closed again as the healer approached.
"How will he take the healing magic?" he asked Vyncent. It was unnecessary to add that he had never treated demons before; the unasked, true question was clear. Would it just force him over the edge? He had heard some white paths of magic were anathema to devilish or demonic creatures, but had no experience to draw on. In any case, it wouldn't make a difference anyway - if he did nothing Altair would surely die. He pulled up his sleeves as a white glow suffused his hands, and laid them against Altair's cheek.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 6, 2011 7:39:31 GMT -5
Vyncent didn't respond to the healer's looks or serious tone or his negative assessment of their situation. He seethed inwardly as he moved to Altair's other side and helped him up to the healer's room above the tavern. Vyncent needed sleep. Soon. Now, if that was possible. And he had gotten Altair down the mountain - the hardest part, in his mind. Now they were in this stupid wreck of a village and they had a healer, there was no way in HELL that Altair was going to die. Even if Vyncent had to take a stroll down to the underworld and drag him back by his ankle, nobody was dying tonight.
"Badly, I assume," he told the healer as he lingered on the other side of the bed, hands resting in the pockets of his coat. "But I suppose we'll see when you start. It's this or death, as you said." He stepped back to lean against the wall, eyes glinting in the twilit room. He watched Altair's pale, motionless figure for a moment. Lucky he was unconscious. When he'd said it would hurt, he didn't mean the process of healing. He'd been referring to the white magic that would rip through his corrupted form, possibly killing him despite anything the healer did.
It was a long night. It was still raining by mid-morning, Vyncent standing at the window in the healer's little room, leaning against the window sill to observe the miserable little town below. Altair was alive, though. That was a plus, he assumed.
Vyncent must have either been too tired, or he'd hit his head or something, because the healer was also still alive, albeit elsewhere to recover from the exertion of bringing a demon back from the brink of death. Vyncent had slept sat against the wall on the other side of the room; not the most comfortable of places, but by that point he had been too tired to care. He sipped at the cup of hot black coffee in his hand, before casting his gaze to the bed. Altair's broken arm had been bandaged securely and set in a sling held close to his chest. The bones were healed up, or healing, but moving it, he had been told, wouldn't be recommended for another few days.
Vyncent's trademark black flames were flickering about the bed as well, cocooning Altair in warmth and sustaining the temperature at levels high enough to keep a fire demon comfortable. A few more blankets had been put onto the bed to add to this warmth, Vyncent's red coat thrown over the top of all of these. A smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth. He must have gone mad.
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FLICK
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Post by FLICK on Jun 6, 2011 8:01:10 GMT -5
Altair awoke to... well, pain, basically. And lots of it - perhaps even more than he had endured the following day. He could remember only flashes of the night before and was thankful for it: in his sparse memories he could recall only writhing and agony. That was the white magic he supposed... It felt as though the healer had gone through him with an icy knife, cutting his flesh into sharp white ribbons, leaving the skin intact over the torn wreckage of his body.
That was perhaps an exaggeration. But it hurt.
He rose to a sitting position, blinking in surprise at the comfortable flames flickering around him and the cloak that was dragged over his sleeping form. Vyncent's. Had the demon gone soft? Altair suppressed a smile, glancing over to find him in the room. "You didn't kill the healer, did you?" he murmured, and checked himself. What was he saying? Was that... compassion? He shivered. The white magic may have had a deeper effect that he wanted to admit. God forbid that he may one day care about somebody. If that feeling crept up again, it would certainly have to be stamped out.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 6, 2011 8:32:01 GMT -5
Altair wasn't the only one worrying that Vyncent was going soft, but currently the high demon was putting his acts of kindness down to insurance. If Altair died, he'd told himself, all that work in keeping him alive would be wasted. Besides, if he lived, he'd proved himself a worthy foe against dragons. Dragons was jumping in at the deep end. Anything else should be piss easy, in Vyncent's head.
He smirked at the other demon's question. Oh, so he wasn't the only one going soft. Maybe this healer had done something to them, injected some kind of sedative into the air itself to stop the two demons from remembering what they were too quickly and laying waste to the village. That seemed a fair assumption of things. "No. I didn't kill him," he answered regardless. "We might need him again later, if your arm doesn't heal up right." He crossed over to stand by the bed, offering Altair the cup of coffee in his hands.
"You're pretty funny when you're delirious, y'know," he said with amusement in his voice. The flames around the bed intensified as thunder rolled overhead. "We should stay here for a day or two. How do you feel?"
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Post by FLICK on Jun 6, 2011 19:26:44 GMT -5
Altair found that even with all personal considerations put aside, he would prefer if the healer remained alive. It had been refreshing to be treated with something other than fear and horrified respect, even if he had been fading in and out of consciousness for most of that time. Those thoughts were, however, ones he thought it would be unwise to air. No need for Vyncent to think he'd become a human. They were probably just aftereffects of the compassion-driven healing spells: with luck they would wear off in a couple of days. "I'm always funny, Vyncent," he corrected drily.
"The arm feels right," Altair answered. "Like my arm again." He twitched his cheek experimentally. "And the face?" he asked, unable to hide his own concern. He inwardly cursed himself. Such a vain, pathetic child he would seem. He shrugged, more for display than anything else.
"I don't object to staying," he confessed. It would be good to rest: get this white poison out of his body before taking on anything else, whatever Vyncent had in mind next. Especially if that was rain he heard outside. Nothing, he hoped, could top dragons. But that was probably underestimating Vyncent Schwarz. "Is there anything to do in this place?"
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 6, 2011 19:41:43 GMT -5
Vyncent found himself smirking as Altair spoke, flopping down to sit in the poky little chair next to the bed, examining his nails. He glanced across to the other demon as he asked about his face, trying to hide his amusement. To any other person, yes, it might seem like childish vanity, but Vyncent could actually relate. He was vanity incarnate, after all. Perhaps it was a demon thing. He mused on this for a while before he remembered that Altair had asked him a question.
"You look as if I've been slapping you in the face," he informed him rather brightly. "Your cheek is pink, like you'd been burned by the sun," he smirked. "The healer told me it was better than you could have hoped for, and that the pinkness will fade in a day or so. You got off lucky. Frighteningly lucky, almost," he nodded.
Vyncent rose to his feet to move back to the window soon enough, looking back over the little hamlet. "I was thinking that myself," he admitted. "I think there's a small gambling parlour. Then, of course, the tavern is downstairs. But perhaps we should keep a low profile until your arm is better. If we stir up too much trouble, we might find ourselves surrounded by dragons again." He laughed quietly, before glancing over at Altair once more. "Your use of magic is impressive," he told him, obviously referring to his display yesterday. "Who taught you?"
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Post by FLICK on Jun 6, 2011 20:04:31 GMT -5
Altair scowled at the news of his cheek, even though he knew it was better than could be expected. It would likely heal in a few days - his appearance would be restored. Damn, but that was a talented healer. Altair was in no state to kid himself about how poor the burn had been; he knew that even with magic, a full healing would have been next to impossible... and yet here he was.
"Slapped in the face," he repeated. "Feels that way, too." Really, it felt worse.
Keep a low profile, then. "I'm sure the dragons wouldn't object to a quick drink, Vyncent," he murmured in a low, persuasive tone. The alcohol of the night before really, really hadn't been enough.
"My strength in magic impressive, perhaps," Altair permitted, "but I doubt you could say the same for my usage. What did I whip out, a few earth spells? All the fancy work was yours, Vyncent, I just put my strength behind it." Altair shrugged. "Something to put more effort into, I suppose. I'm beginning to wonder if my natural talent for magic eclipses even my demonic talent for the flames." A golden fireball burst into life in his good hand, rolled around his fingertips. As for his teachers... "I travelled with an earth mage for some time," he confessed. "More a charlatan than anything else, but he taught me a few tricks - as many as he could. His books taught me a few others."
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 6, 2011 20:18:24 GMT -5
"Does it? This could be a good time to mention that I might have slapped you a couple of times just for kicks, too." A playful smirk was twitching at the corners of Vyncent's mouth as he turned to lean back against the windowsill. He cracked his knuckles, letting out a laugh at the younger demon's persuasive tone. "No, I don't suppose they would object to one. If you have strength enough to walk, I don't think I'd object either," he conceded, brushing his hair back out of his face.
A rather interested little look entered the high demon's eyes as Altair explained about his magic, Vyncent finishing his coffee and setting it down onto the sill. He ignored the lashings of rain outside, and slowly let his black fire recede from around his companion, to test how the change in temperature would suit him. He watched the golden fire lace through Altair's fingertips and roll around his hand with a control that impressed even Vyncent, taking into account the other demon's youth. Barely over a century old and here he was, having just survived being chewed up and scorched by dragons, talking about magical and demonic strengths.
"I could teach you finesse," he offered suddenly, lifting a hand. A hissed word brought the scent of ozone and a few sparks dancing to life in his hand, leaping through his fingertips lazily and finally huddling together in a perfect sphere. "If you wanted to learn, of course. It's not as if I don't have the time." He would have told Altair to consider it payment for his help with the dragons, but Vyncent thought saving his life more or less covered that part.
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Post by FLICK on Jun 7, 2011 6:36:54 GMT -5
Altair swung his legs over the edge of the sickbed and rose unsteadily to a standing position. There was no point trying hide the wobble in his stance - he would not have been able to suppress it. He would just have to hope that Vyncent's newfound matronliness was not so overpowering that he would deny a companion recovering from serious illness the comforting embrace of alcohol. If not, he would have to wrestle Altair back down. His mind was made up.
Altair flung a cloak around himself - a poor substitute for Vyncent's magical heating system, but it would have to do. And the drink would help, too. He was already making his painful, slow way to the door as he replied.
"How could I refuse?" He smiled. "Not least, because you seem to kill people who disagree with your plans, and I'm in no state to fight." If the recent battle had shown him anything, though, it was that Vyncent Schwarz knew magic - he had brought a mountain down on a pair of dragons. To learn that sort of power... well. "Coming down?" he asked Vyncent, and pushed open the door.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 7, 2011 7:11:21 GMT -5
Vyncent didn't really feel like fighting Altair after their encounter with the dragons the day before, so he collected his coat thrown over the bed, shrugged into it, and joined the other demon at the door. "Of course." He nodded. "Brandy for you again?" He asked, pulling open the door to sweep out and down the corridor to the stairwell. The demon laughed at Altair's assessment of his methods. "Very true. I wouldn't kill you, though. Not after I spent so long saving you." A shrug of his shoulders. He headed downstairs.
The tavern was quiet as Vyncent arrived, and not just because people ordinarily tended to fall silent at the sight of the two demons from the night before emerging from their slumber above them. No, it was more than that. The place was almost empty. Vyncent assumed that this, too, was their doing. He moved to the bar, ordering a glass of red wine and brandy in a quiet, almost overly polite voice, collecting the glasses and moving to a seat by the window. It was almost a repeat of the scene in which Vyncent and Altair had met, minus the blood and fire.
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Post by FLICK on Jun 7, 2011 7:25:43 GMT -5
"Naturally," Altair replied to the brandy. "Vyncent, I'm flattered," Altair gushed sarcastically. "The highest honour, I'm sure." He grumbled slightly to himself as Vyncent passed him on the staircase: the self-pitying frustration muttered by all invalids used to a life of activity and competence and suddenly left chafing and incapable. He would reach the bar in his own good time, and he did, even if he had to stiffly hobble down the stairs two at a time - and he did.
Altair, too, was reminded of the night they first met. Funny how they had a habit of emptying the places they chose to patronise. He supposed if he had been a human he too would have steered clear, knowing what had been in the upstairs rooms overnight. He wondered if his screaming had been audible outside the building - if his sore throat was any indicator, there had been a lot. The methods they had used this time were more favourable, though. The barkeep, if he'd known, would have been overjoyed.
"Where did you learn your magic, Vyncent?" Altair asked. "And what do you want to teach me of it?"
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 7, 2011 7:54:38 GMT -5
Vyncent had seated himself comfortably at the table by the time Altair joined him. He slid the glass of brandy over to his companion, sipping at his red wine as he watched the humanoid insects scuttle to and fro outside the window to try and find shelter from the rain as they worked or travelled. He glanced back to Altair as he posed his question. His eyes narrowed as he cast his mind back all those years.
"Centuries ago," he shook his head, nostalgia in his voice. Demons weren't exempt to the weight of memory, after all. After a few moments of consideration, Vyncent located the information he was looking for. He wasn't inclined to deliver the details surrounding his decision to learn the magical arts, but he could explain his teachings.
"I had several teachers," he confessed, "over many years. At first I was taught Arcane magic by an odd old hermit. He lived underground, close to the Gnomes. I think he was interested in a joining of magical forces and Gnome technology. A landslide did him in." Vyncent's voice expressed faint amusement. The landslide could very well have been caused by a fledgling Vyncent trying out earth spells for the first time.
"After that, I built on Arcane magic with a few travellers; outlaws, other demons, that sort of thing... then I found a mage who knew Shadow magic; Arcane's darker counterpart, and he taught me well. After that... like you, I thirsted for knowledge. I think I spent more time in ruined libraries than I spent sleeping in those years." He smiled.
"The question isn't so much 'what do I want to teach you'. It's more 'what would you like to learn'."
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Post by FLICK on Jun 9, 2011 7:40:23 GMT -5
"A landslide," Altair chuckled. He could draw the obvious conclusion - Vyncent's grasp of earth magic, at this stage in his life at least, ran to such massive land movements: he had used one to take down their draconic foes so recently. The implication was clear, especially when coupled with the amusement that touched lightly on Vycnent's voice and features.
The Arcane magic, Shadow magic dichotomy was one Altair had yet to explore. Despite his natural dark leanings, he grasped only certain concepts of Arcane magic - its complexities were at this stage out of his reach and Shadow magic was a field gthat he had not explored at all... Yet, at least. One day, he was sure, he would turn his focus to it, but that day was yet to come. Maybe, he conjectured, it would be soon. When he considered Vyncent's offer...
"Everything," he answered simply, truthfully. "As you said: I thirst for magical knowledge. At this stage it is indiscriminate. Maybe when I know more I'll realise that there are some fields I want to learn more about than others, but at the moment it seems there is nothing that my longing doesn't run to." His eyes had a gleam that had nothing to do with pain or alcohol, though he had long since downed his glace and was waving his hand for another. They glinted hungrily at the thought of the power within him that Vyncent could unlock.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 10, 2011 14:08:31 GMT -5
"Everything?" Vyncent repeated, a rather cold smile spreading across his face as he locked eyes with Altair. The hunger for power in them reminded him of himself. He too pushed away his empty glass, the barmaid soon returning with a second glass of brandy for Altair and another red wine for Vyncent. The demon settled back in his seat, tapping his boot against the table leg as he thought. "Everything, I can do," he nodded after a moment or so. "Of course, not yet. You still need to recover from picking on those dragons." A light chuckle.
He fell quiet to mull over everything while peering into his glass of wine. Finally, when the glass was empty, he looked up again, picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of his coat, and smiled. "What do you know so far? I already know you're a worthy student. Your strength needs no fine tuning. How adept are you at Arcane magic? From what I've seen your prowess at earth magic is remarkable. If you know enough, perhaps we should delve straight into Shadow magic."
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