#(CASPIAN'S JELLYYYY)

[lostplagas]

❝ you’re plotting something, aren’t you? come on then - out with it. ❞

Caspian cannot help but laugh softly. It is good natured, genuine, the sort of laugh one gives when they know they have nothing to fear and no judgement will be cast, for the other knows them better than they themselves.

And who knows him better than Lord Saddler? His mind and body alike are open books to be thumbed through gladly. Caspian's faith and devotion were not implanted, not products of The Plaga's influence upon him (though truthfully, now there was no degree of seperation between parasite and host as there had once been). No; Caspian had believed in The Holy Body's power even before he had stumbled into Lord Saddler's embrace.

"Am I so obvious, My Lord?" Caspian asks as he bows his head, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips. His Plaga (he) writhes slightly with pleasure, vibrating in the presence of Saddler's all-consuming might.

"I find my thoughts drawn back to some of our earlier works." He begins gently, the journal in his hands being neatly closed and placed upon the table he was sat at. "Our initial experiments on the Island that we conducted were-... clumsy and ill-refined as we sought to better understand The Holy Body. In that regard, I looked into what was done in Africa."

He inhaled, the sort of sound one makes when they do not wish to say what comes next.

"And I am-... impressed with what they accomplished. Even if the reasons were nothing short of blasphemous. As we continue to rebuild, I wonder if it might be an avenue you wish explored in our way, My Lord."