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everwitch-magiks · 4 years

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dance with somebody (ch. 16)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 15

When Dex steps into Chowder’s bedroom, his single knock on the open door no more than a nostalgic habit, these days, as opposed to a present requirement, he’s certainly not expecting to be faced with, well. With this.

“What’re you doing?”

Chowder looks up. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with a myriad of different colored post-it notes spread out around him. Dex crouches down, picking up a couple of the notes (yellow and pink, respectively) to skim through their contents. Louis, helped solve Halloween cupcake disaster, 2 points. Hops, volunteered to do dishes entire week, 6 points.

Dex raises both eyebrows towards Chowder. Chowder, meanwhile, is staring down at the colorful mess surrounding him with a decidedly troubled expression. He sighs.

“I’m figuring out my dibs.”

“With a points system?” Dex prompts. He’s not sure if he’s impressed or concerned. “Looks ambitious.”

“I just don’t want anyone to think that I’m being unfair,” Chowder explains glumly. He picks up a green post-it (Jader, gave up half his vanilla scone at breakfast, 1 point) and stares at it dejectedly. “Or that I don’t care about them. Oh no, what if I pick Jader, and then Joyo inevitably assumes that I hate him? I could never do that to Joyo."

“Dude,” Dex says. He’s trying very hard not to smile. “You don’t have to make a decision yet, you know? It’s not even Christmas.”

Chowder frowns.

“It's almost Christmas.”

“I suppose,” Dex agrees carefully. “Are you sure this isn’t just some big procrastination project? Got any big finals looming, hm?”

“Finals,” Chowder scoffs. “Are finals really more important than the precious feelings of our hardworking underclassmen?”

“Oh my God. What’s all this?”

Nursey strolls into the room without knocking. He places a kiss on top of Dex’s head and then plops himself down between Dex and Chowder, his hand lingering softly at Dex’s nape.

“Chowder is having a bit of a dibs crisis,” Dex fills him in.

“Oh, man. Hard same.” Nursey frowns. “I was dead set on giving mine to Ford. Of course Ollie and Wicks had to go and snag her, first.”

“She and Tango seem pretty happy up in the attic, though,” Dex points out. "And this way, you get to be hausmates with both of them this year."

“I suppose that's true," Nursey allows. Then he shrugs. "And I guess I’ve still got Louis. He’s let me borrow his good bluetooth speakers basically this whole semester, so. Might be an option."

“What?” Chowder exclaims. “No, wait, I might pick Louis. You two couldn't maybe give me some time to figure this out, before you stake your claims?"

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works, C,” Dex tells him gently.

“That’s definitely not how it works,” Nursey agrees, his grin playful yet his tone kind. “If there’s someone you have in mind, Chow, you should just go for it. You snooze, you lose."

Chowder whips his head around, aiming his wide, pleading eyes at Dex.

“You’re not considering Louis, too, are you?”

“Honestly? I wish I was considering anyone.” Dex sighs. “I would’ve gone with Whiskey, but obviously that’s out, and I feel like the Waffles have gotten this strange aversion to doing any of those dibs type favors for me since I became captain. I think they don’t want to act like they’re sucking up for the wrong reasons, or something.”

“Maybe give them some proper incentive?” Nursey suggests merrily. “If word got out that you’re, like, completely undecided about dibs, I’m sure both the Waffles and the Scones would be falling all over themselves to please you. Might be fun to watch.”

“Nah. I’ll figure it out eventually.” Dex shrugs. “Graduation is still really far away. I’m not gonna worry about it, yet.”

“It’s not that far away,” Chowder disagrees. He sounds serious. “Guys, it’s almost Christmas. That means we're graduating in less than six months.”

Dex very nearly flinches. Six months? How is that even possible?

“That can’t be right,” Nursey says slowly. His expression has turned uncharacteristically unchill. “Fuck. Why haven’t I applied to more grad programs, yet?”

“I need to start looking at job listings more seriously,” Chowder chimes in. He's looking down at his post-its with an expression that’s unusually difficult to read. “I guess I can't put it off forever."

“Hey,” Dex says. He’s trying his best to sound reasonable, despite his own inner turmoil. Suddenly, the feeling of Nursey’s hand that’s still resting at his nape seems more important than ever. “It’s not over yet. We’ve still got a whole semester.”

“Yeah,” Nursey says quickly. “Yeah, you’re right. And even after, it’s not like you guys are ever gonna be rid of me. Got your backs, remember?”

“That's true,” Chowder agrees quietly. He’s not smiling, Dex notes with no small amount of concern. Especially considering the fact that Chowder kind of hasn't smiled at all since the start of this conversation. His whole expression looks wrong, somehow, without that familiar spark of effortless joy. “It’s all happening so fast. I wish everything could slow down, just a bit.”

“We’re just gonna have to make every moment count,” Dex says firmly. Impulsively, he reaches for Chowder’s shoulder. “We’re here for you, man. You know that, right? We're always gonna look out for each other. Always."

“Of course. Yeah, of course.” Thankfully, that seems to do the trick – Chowders lips curl into a soft grin. "Ugh. I think I'm just gonna go through my notes for that UX design final one more time. Can't be more stressful than trying to choose a single Waffle for dibs."

"Or a Scone," Nursey reminds him brightly. "There's some good freshies, too, let's not forget."

"Says you, who's got your eye on Louis, too," Chowder points out with an amused roll of his eyes. "I may be panicking, Nurse, but I'm certainly not stupid."

"Ah, and here though myself completely subtle." Nursey grins. "Weren't you gonna study?"

"Actually, yes." Chowder gets to his feet, only to immediately pause. He narrows his eyes towards Nursey. "But if you lock down Louis while I'm stuck cramming user interface design techniques, you can expect some serious payback."

"Chill, man." Nursey's grin softens. "Look, I haven't actually decided on Louis yet, but if it would make you feel better we could have some sort of dibs treaty until the end of finals week. After that, it's anyone's game. Sounds good?"

"I suppose that’s fair." Chowder nods, and Dex is relieved to see the genuine smile he offers in return. "I think I left my books downstairs, so. See you guys later."

He pads out of his room, leaving Dex and Nursey alone in the sea of post-its.

Immediately, Nursey scoots a little closer to Dex.

"Just us, huh," he remarks, his tone a clear attempt at casual even though his smile indicates otherwise. "D'you wanna get lunch, or something?"

Dex hesitates.

"I've actually got some things I need to work on," he says carefully. "Could we maybe meet up later?"

"Sure. Of course." Nursey's response comes just a little bit too quickly. "That's chill, man. Whatever you need."

Dex studies his boyfriend's expression for a moment. It's been a concern of his, ever since he started setting aside time to work on his secret project, that Nursey might eventually start to realise there's something Dex isn't telling him. Dex has been monitoring carefully for any sign of doubt or confusion on Nursey's end, and this is the first time he thinks he's seeing exactly that in the subtle frown that's replaced Nursey's relaxed smile from a moment earlier. Obviously, it's the opposite of what Dex hopes to achieve with his secrecy.

Thankfully, the solution is very simple.

"Hey," Dex says quietly. "It's for you."

Nursey looks puzzled.

"I'm doing something for you," Dex clarifies. "That's why I've been a little busy, lately. It's going to be a surprise."

"Oh," Nursey says. He sounds surprised, already. "You're… Huh. What is it?"

Dex grins softly.

"A surprise. Duh."

Nursey raises a curious eyebrow.

"Don't I get a hint?"

"You really don't understand the concept of a surprise, do you?"

"Fine. Be that way." Nursey smiles a little excitedly, and Dex relaxes a bit. "I suppose I'll see you at dinner, then? The guys all want to go to Jerrys.”

"Actually, can we do dinner just you and me?" Dex asks quickly. "There's been so much team stuff, lately, and I've honestly kind of missed us. Tonight, I want to just... Order in. Preferably from someplace that makes a mean garlic bread. And after, we should put on Netflix and get in bed so I can cuddle you while you rant about the dubious plot changes in another one of those Austen adaptations."

Nursey blinks. For some reason, he's staring at Dex with a serious look in his eyes, one that's only vaguely familiar.

"What?" Dex asks, a little self-consciously. Was it something he said? “You like those period dramas. Don’t you?”

Nursey drops his gaze. He takes Dex's hands in his and holds them gently, almost like they're something delicate, like Dex is someone precious and worthy of protection.

"You're in love with me," he says quietly. "Aren't you?"

Oh, shit.

It's true, is the thing. And honestly, Nursey can’t have been unaware of it up until this moment. Really, he must have known. Dex might never have said it in so many words, and they’ve technically only dated for a few months, but it’s not like either of them are blind to the fact that they were dancing around this thing between them for several years, before. That goodnight kiss out on the porch at the very first kegster of the fall was never the beginning.

Dex briefly considers making some sort of joke to downplay this moment, if only to stop Nursey from being completely obnoxious about it in a minute or so. Except, the heavy look in Nursey’s eyes compels him to make a different choice.

"Yeah," Dex says, almost steadily. "I am in love with you. Quite hopelessly, actually."

Nursey’s breath hitches. He squeezes Dex hands tightly, and then he’s leaning over, capturing Dex’s lips in a fiercely desperate kiss that leaves Dex completely breathless. And if Dex didn’t feel it so completely, just then, in every achingly delicate touch of Nursey’s fingers against his cheek, his throat, all the way down his chest, he might’ve been a bit anxious about the fact that, technically, Nursey didn’t actually say it back.

As it is, Dex isn’t worried. If anything, he’s amused.

“You’re welcome,” he chirps gently after they break apart. “I guess I should be thankful you didn’t just tell me to chill, or whatever.”

“Fuck you, man,” Nursey breathes out, his voice breaking in a way Dex didn’t expect at all. “Also, just, shut up, okay? You already know that I’m writing literal fucking poetry about you, about your freckles and your eyes and your hips and your smile and your stupid fucking lips, okay. I’d like to think you’ve been able to safely assume that I’m more than casually into you.”

“I’d like to think that’s the impression I’ve given you, too,” Dex says slowly. He feels a little confused. Suddenly, he’s tempted to drag Nursey across campus to the wood workshop and just show him, right now, to expose everything that he’s dreaming and hoping and wishing. “Nursey. Hey, Nurse. Look at me.”

“No, you’re right.” Nursey takes a breath. He meets Dex’s eyes with a watery smile. “I don’t know, man. It just hits differently, when you say it out loud. Feels more real. It’s like you spoke it into existence.”

“Maybe something for your next poem,” Dex teases gently. This moment feels too fragile, somehow. He racks his brain for some way to break the tension. “Did you ever read me the one about my hips?”

“Um.” Quickly, Nursey looks away, his smile suddenly more of a bashful grin. Bingo. “Did I mention that one, just now?”

“You did.” Dex grins, too, taking in Nursey’s clearly flustered expression with interest. Oh, this is gonna be good. “Tonight, okay? Read it to me, tonight.”

“I don’t… It’s not my most coherent work, probably.” Nursey clears his throat, and Dex grins a little wider. It’s not often that he manages to make Nursey this unsettled. “I mean, I’ll see if I can find it.”

“Suppose I’ll just have to inspire a new one, if you don’t,” Dex suggests slyly.

“Actually,” Nursey breathes out, already moving to climb into Dex’s lap. “That sounds-”

“Oh my God!” Chowder exclaims from the still open door. “We’ve been over this! You both have your own rooms, okay, you’ve literally got zero excuses for getting your freak on right in the middle of-”

Dex presses his lips briefly against Nursey’s before scrambling to his feet, quickly slipping past Chow into the hallway.

“Sorry, Chowder!” he calls out over his shoulder as he takes the stairs two steps at a time. “Love you, Nurse! Bye!”

“That’s a fine, isn’t it?” Pips calls from the living room as Dex practically sprints past. “Hey, wait! Major fine! Pay the fuck up!”

Dex let’s the door to the Haus fall shut behind him. As he makes the now familiar trek across campus, he doesn’t stop smiling for a single moment.

ch. 17

#check please #omgcheckplease #omgcp #will poindexter #chris chow #derek nurse #nurseydex #dexnursey #dibs #friendship #romance #chirping as flirting #dance with somebody #evie writes #fanfiction

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mysticmysterywrites-blog · 5 years

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Prompt #1

So. Lets combine Soulmate "first words on the wrist" style, with Dungeon and dragons.

- I like the idea of lichdom being akin to TaaaaaZ's style of liches. More spectral, able to possess things, if you have a spare body you can inhabit it. Most of the time, the transformation from mortal to lichdom ends with its soul anchored onto something. More often then not, this is knowledge. Its why so many liches are labeled under the evil category, because logic can be cold when its left alone. But also, most of the time, wizards that turn to lichdom do so out of a search for knowledge. And in turn, that knowledge is what they anchor onto, leaving them with only knowledge to run off of. My boy? Nah homie he went the chaos route. Without a flesh suit, he's anchored himself onto emotions. Which is like, while its going to keep you sane much, much longer, its also going to be an absolute BITCH to control most of the time. He runs entirely off of emotions, and it takes a lot not to be what you think of when people compare others to water. Always changing, always turning. He has NO control over that. Anyway, he also just has a hard time thinking straight (Which like same) as a lich. So until he gets back to his body, he's going to be rambling nonsense.

I'm aware this is not how lich work in actual DND. I do what I want.

- As for soulmates, I'm more fond of the idea that soulmate isn't inherently romantic, so much as it means that it will be someone important in your life. More over, for an au like this one, you can have multiple soulmates, either romantic, platonic, ect ect ect. So it's like. Your soulmate isn't guaranteed to love you. After all, love takes work and time, and effort, and sometimes fate just doesn't guess a personality right. However, no matter what they will come into your life. Somehow, somewhere. And they WILL impact it. And thats the important part. (That said, you know this beotch a SLUT for shipping, come AT me with that shit) Oh, also I like the idea that the sentences on your skin evolve to fit the words you know. So babies down have much but like, a line. Toddlers will have broken up words and phrases, younger kids will be more simplistic. Though, about by the time most are 13, their full statement should just about be there (Unless, you know, somehow the soulmate drops a word they wouldn't know until that exact moment)

Finally, Slight warning. The main plot of this rp deals with a Atropals, which is like literally a god fetus that's been aborted. So like, if you're uncomfortable with that kind of enemy. Whoops

Anyway, that world building and warning aside. So, who thinks that a good way to "stop a not so all the way there ex from resurrecting a dead god fetus to raise it to it's true potential" is by becoming a lich and working entirely on your own because involving anyone else might get them killed, but also you don't feel so bad about getting YOURSELF killed. Well. Certainly Thales Depressed Ass.

Notedly, he's a LOT more finicky when he's not attached to a body. He either has a one track mind, or his mind is all over the place. Once he's back in is body (and while he is able to leave it) He acts a lot calmer, and far more collected. But he's still kind of, new to this lich thing? Like you know those liches that have been at it for at least a hundred years and have their shit together and just kinda wanna devour souls? Yeah no that ain't him, he's been at it for a year and a half and he is ALL over the place. However, when he has a body to possess? All of his stats went into like, Intelligence and Charisma. Dex and Wisdom got like a little more. Constitution and strength?? Oh no. Oh noooo....

He's a fuck boy. Just like, a fuck boy that can die multiple times, so.

In his human flesh suit, Thales is 6'2, with smooth long hair about down to his mid-back. He has a tendency to lean twards glam fashion over anything else, because whats the point of having magic if all eyes aren't on you? Paints his nails, hairs always in a different style, deffo has at least four or five rings on the same finger sometimes. Would in fact wear the wizard hat. Lich wise.. its as I mentioned. Think more, spectral skeletal figure mixed with dementor, type of deal. His magic is silver based, so I imagine his spectral would end up leaning to the same. Have the like, bright red eyes though, and keeps that distinct skeletal figure. He has a twin brother that he ditched, that probably will end up becoming relevant sooner over later. That chump is fucking pissed.

As for the character type I'm looking for.. Species and gender wise? I'm not picky. Personality wise? I'm kiiiinda leaning to characters that are more on the chaotic end of the spectrum? Like. Maybe not ENTIRELY assholes (though I love asshole characters and would never dare to deny them) but you know. Characters that got a little umph to them. Maybe some with just as questionable morals. That said, this is /not/ set in stone. The idea of this Chaotic Neutral Gremlin getting paired up with some Lawful Good chump thats just standing there HOLLARING as he grows ANOTHER body is also VERY appealing to me. So. Hm, Guess I'm not picky about personality type either then, just something that can be amusing.

Also, your character can have as much or as little an idea of whats going on with this situation as you want. Did they start snooping where they shouldn't have?? Just kind of pick the wrong guy to argue with at the bar? Kicked out of the Cool Kidz Cult for necro-crimes? All up to you, world is your oyster. Ect Ect Ect.

Theres a line of gold on his wrist.

It matches his brothers perfectly. It's not something he questions, for the longest time. You don't question the freckles on your cheek, nor the color of your eyes. It was something that was just /there./ It was apart of them, and to question its existence wasn't even an offense, so much as unthought of.

He points it out to his twin one day, when he realizes that no one they've met has one quite like theirs. It's basic, for all intent and purposes. Just a bold line of gold, shines against the light like a bracelet. Like paint, even. "Ma doesn't have a band around her wrist," He says, as he traces the line in his own skin, "'Lae don't either. I think it's just us."

Their mother answers them with a smile when they ask. "Well, You were always together," She points out to them, as they hold out their wrists to her pointedly. She gives them a small smile, and carefully holds each of their hands, "It's never been important, for you to know what you'd say to eachother. It's simply important that you know it's there. And well.. There you are," She lets go of their hands, lets a soft breath out, "People love to talk about the bonds of family, but its rare for family to actually be bonded by fate. Don't ruin what She gives you, boys,"

Their mother was smart, and they were not. So they nod along, even if they don't fully understand. And it takes them years to truly realize what she meant.

Theres a red one on his wrist, snug carefully under the golden line on his wrist. Its crimson, and brilliant, and he finds himself mouthing the words to himself time and time again.

His brothers has a very ugly word on it, according to their tutor. He blinks at it time and time again. "I'm not even sure how you know that word," His tutor frowns, then - "Ah Right. You're Kioko's children. Your mother should take more care to watch her mouth around the two of you."

"Ah, you're that motherfucker that the word has been about as of lately around?" His mother laughs herself silly at his brother's bond, when he asks. Sticks his arm out right to her. It's obviously not fully formed, the words are simple, still changing. But the swear stays thick on his arm, and she tells him not to repeat it with a pat on the head.

He rubs his own at night and wonders about it till dreams take him away.

He dates a girl when he's 16, and then a boy when he's 20.

The girl, she's beautiful. She had these beautiful, teal eyes that just lit up when she spoke about something she loved. She had a passion for hammers, knew how to swing a punch. He'd once saw her deck someone straight across the room. She finds her romantic soulmate because of him, ironically enough. An Aasimar woman, skin bronze that has an affinity for flames. Their first words are

"I know I'm a little drunk right now, but I think I just saw an angel." "You shouldn't act so surprised, It's just the alcohol talking."

They've no hard feelings between the two of them, and once or twice they take care to take a job or two together.

The man is more complex. A centaur blessed by the forest in whispers and prayers. His figure is thin and hind reminds him of a dears, and he's eve got these elegant horns to show. He's a bit older then himself, maybe six years or so. He studies magic, all the same as him. Gets lost in his studies and forgets about things easily. He has this beautiful blonde hair, and a hand carved stave, and- Their break up is sloppy, and leaves him torn up for months.

"You shouldn't look at people like that, they might get the wrong idea, lad." (He never does find out how his conversation goes. Maybe he should return to that forest and find out one day.)

He starts researching necromancy not for use, but for archiving.

It's an easy lie to play off of. He wouldn't make the lie too broad an say that the magic did not, at least, fascinate him. And certain spells are easy to incorporate into his magic pool. False life is incredibly handy for when they come across being that see them as little more as targets. Vampiric Touch has given him a sharp heal far more then he'd like to admit, and he finds himself using Circle of Death on men far more menacing then he.

But he keeps himself in the clean. Between himself and his brother? They like to travel. And as he travels, he writes down the oddest, most unique spells he can find in a singular book. He's never been sure what for, not immediately. But maybe one day he'll get use out of it. Maybe one day they'll actually know what to do with it.

They're 16, young, and dumb, and if you'd told him at the time he'd get use out of the most dangerous spell he'd collected he would have laughed in your face. (They separate, later. Some stupid fight over some stupid issue. But he keeps the book near and dear to him, and doesn't let go.)

The third man he dates is by far the most interesting.

By then, Thales is maybe 23. Allsuns... gorgeous. Again, a few years older then him, but thats to be expected with high elves. His soulmate has long since passed, something about a magical accident on the coast line. He laughs it off, tells him that it was a long time ago. Grabs his hand as he tells him not to worry. It should have been his first warning, perhaps. It had always been weird when he'd phrased it like that.

Not to worry.. Not to worry....

But he's always been easy to trick with a pretty face. (Trick wasn't the right word. He always knew, of course, the man was dangerous. It was just easier to ignore when he had such a nice smile to him)

The man is really the reason he really begins to delve farther into necromancy. The push he needed into the pool.

"Did you know there was suppose to be another goddess of fate."

Thales raise an eyebrow in Allsun's direction. They're in a library, reading over some book to dig out Information for the man's latest project. He always told Thales, you'd never believe how much knowledge you can find in the pages of a book. It might not be what you're looking for, but you can apply knowledge anywhere.

And you know. Thales was included to agree. But he was tired, and the book offered him little use. "Odd topic, but I'll humor you. Go on,"

"Not odd at all. In fact, I dare say it to be relevant," the man snaps his book shut, pushes his hair back on his head, "Lady Istus was with child. However, a great sin was cast upon it. Poisoned, if it were, by an overly zelous god. Stricken by grief, she goes to her good friend," A wiggle of the eyebrow, metaphorical air quotes "The raven queen, and begs her to help. So, the goddess rips it from her womb!" He swings his arms up, and Thales can't help but hide a snort into his hand, "Problem solved, right? Wrong! Now they need somewhere to put this child, and-"

"An unborn child to a major god? That's just Her story," he tilts his head, lets an easy grin cross his face, "Try again."

"Im not! Consider it- Perhaps. Perhaps it is, fate, wouldn't you put it? That her child suffers the same route as she," and suddenly, it happens. He'd always been easy to read. The emotion showed best on his ears, and there was nothing more amusing then sitting back to watch But this? This was different. This was serious. It was a tonal shift that might as well have shocked him awake, straight into a new conversation.

"See, the fetus? They needed to put it somewhere. What better place then the lands they rule? It was left to rot here-" he taps the floor with his staff, "not here, specifically. But here, on this plane, on these grounds. And know what? It fuels our fates, Thales. Istus thinks she's in control of our bonds, but she simply records fate."

"No, no. It's spoken to me. It is the one that ties the strings between us and and the gods," there's a pause in the man's voice, and it's in that moment he catches the glint in the man's eye. It's bitter, and numb, and the pretty face that hides his intent is gone. He was serious. The joke was gone. This wasn't hypothetical.

"But it is so, very angry. And instead of rotting, it feeds." Allsun's smiles, and the casualty of it chills his spine.

"/We're/ going to raise a deity, Thales."

Hey.

What, the fuck.

He's use to traveling with his brother, is the thing.

Between the two of them, they're quiet good at getting attention on themselves. Thales has magic that's different from your everyday wizard. Knows how to put his own touch to it. His brothers a bard. His entire job is to entice crowds. And though he doesn't come off as such, his brother enjoys having the attention on him, on stage.

They're good at what they do. Put on shows, make some gold.

Allsun is different.

He uses his words, gathers crowd not by story, but by motivation. He tells people what they want to hear, sways them in his direction. At first, it had been interesting to watch. He'd sit back and scribble in the notebook how the man swayed the last crowd, watch as more people turned their attention to his gaze. Once he begins to hear the poison behind the honey, he knows he can't stay. But Allsun has already planted his seen in the world, and its only a matter of time before he watches it take its root.

And he's terrified as to what this man can do.

Despite this, He stays with him as long as he can.

At first it's easy. Don't show him what you've found, things that could possibly help his conquest. He likes to think he did some kind of damage to it. That he put it off for just a LITTLE longer. But it gets harder. The Allsun quickly finds followers, finds people who gather under word of mouth. It's far faster then he ever expects them to gather, and by then he's no stop to the resources the man has access to.

It's not just Allsun that is dangerous. This, thing. Allsun had been all too eager to explain to concept. Explain what it could DO and how it could grow. He's not an easy man to rattle. Despite this, he doesn't see why the man is so eager to rise such a being. But he knows, if anyone can do it... Allsun can.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. And he is so, incredibly desperate.

He turns the pages of his book of forbidden magic, magic he's collected after years on years of travels through ancient ruins and tucked away cities. Magic only people that have been forgotten by the sands of time would practice.

For now, he runs. Begins accounting for what he'll need.

The spell is not simple.

Of course, anyone could tell you that. If necromancy were easy, if just any ol'chump could do it, then they'd have immortals casually wandering about. He thinks, maybe Mystra made the magic neigh impossible not as a test, but to test the bounds of morality. Ask any who defy the laws of nature, why were they doing it? For what purpose did they have, thinking they could go against the gods and the order of things as they stood.

But he is no simple wizard.

No, no. He's motherfucking Thales Maheras. If anyone is going to become a lich, it is him.

He wonders, sometimes, what his brother is up to.

Bet he found his soulmate by now.

His thoughts linger on it for a moment, but that hesitance does not linger for too long. He had more important things to deal with.

If life is a knit scarf, staying alive is keeping on strings

With every attack in battle, another string is cut. And most of the time, when you fall in battle- Loose all your hp, so to say, the strings are given to death to tie. You're pulled to the next realm with guidance or by force. Or perhaps you're pulled to a new body, if you're quick enough.

However, becoming a lich... it's taking those strings, and wounding it around your soul. Time and time again, until theres no where you can go but here. For that, being a lich is dangerous. Theres nowhere to go when you die, when you truly die. You're trapped to wander forever, or vanish into nothingness.

He finds that, maybe. The idea of nothingness isn't horrible after all.

Lichdom suits him well.

He manages it with far less struggle then he'd imagined he would. The hardest part was getting the supplies. Necromancy was not a cheap class, and he finds himself stealing more then he finds himself buys. He knows, he could possibly turn to his mother for money. Knows that she would not hesitate to send him a couple thousand gold should he ask. Might ask out of curiosity, not out of accusation.

But it feels wrong. He can't ask her for money, something that he'd be using to buy the supplies that would inevitably kill her son. He spends the money on bigger things. A clone pod, a new stave, a new wand. He keeps the stave in his house, a little place on the mountains, where snow just falls and falls. It's cold, its unforgiving, but its private. You need to know where to go to get there. Has a teleportation Circle in place, just to make things a little easier to manage. Getting there is harder then leaving.

Its also, private. Privacy is important, and if people are around to hear his screams, they think its the wind.

But once he has the supplies, its as simple as... following steps. Practicing his magic. Something he's done for years, shoved himself into time and time again. It only takes him a year. Between jumping around, collecting the supplies he needs, practicing the magic he sways, and avoiding men on his trail, it only takes him a year to become a lich. He supposed, if there were anything to be smug about, that would be it.

(When he looks down at the words on his wrist, they've turned black. They're the color of death. He wonders if he's severed his connection with a lover. He wonders if this is his punishment, for messing with fate. He was hoping she'd understand, but.. bah. He has more important things to deal with)

He leaves to find Allsun.

Allsun has grown powerful in two years. Both in influence and magic. He has men to do his bidding, watches him create men to do his bidding. If he's ever felt bad about his necromancy, he knows not to now.

And. It clicks, one night when he's just.. watching. Far enough away not to get caught, but close enough to see. A warlocke. Not a wizard, a warlocke. The man is a warlocke, and he's made a deal with something far outside his pay-range.

Then again. So has He.

He burns through his first new body on accident.

He's lucky. His old body hardly had even decomposed

It teaches him to be careful with the blood and body he carries, however. There could always be another incident. He didn't have control over his powers, and snapping from something like possession to burning

If he lost his body entirely, this would be so, so much harder.

His second body had been slaughtered.

He's foolish, with the second one. Doesn't wait until the third has finished growing to actually start doing shit. He's lucky the process only takes three months. He even considers, for a time, finding another clone pod to bid on- steal. But one was bad enough to take care of.

So, he quietly learns not to proceed with a plan until his body has grown once again. He needs not to be left without a body for three months again. It gives him time to practice his abilities, sure. But it leaves him alone, with no one but himself.

The third

And the fourth is.... Well...

He was killed again.

Allsuns men got to him. He knows, then. Damn, he'd thought he'd been sly, too.

He's patient. Patient enough not to blow his cover, patient enough to linger in a limp body, allow himself to be carried and ditched. It's a long wait. His body grasps desperately for sleep, to leave in a state of ignorance. But he can't let Allsun know about this, his lichdom is the one thing he has up his sleeve. The power that comes with it, is the one thing that he has up his sleeve. And he continues to wait. He allows himself to bleed out. Normally, he'd not suffer the pain that comes with dying so slowly. He'd sever the threads of life that remains, taint his own living body until his soul could rise and lash out on its own accord. But he needs to know there's no one near by. He knows their men will linger, knows it's safer to let himself die a slow, agonizing death.

In a sort of Mccob way, it's.. beautiful. Relaxing, even. Hanging onto the last threads of life, just long enough to feel the way few settles on him. Long enough to feel himself settle into the earth, something he knows very well he will not do for a very long time. His breaths are fleeting, shorter with every passing moment.

He knows it's nothing more then a calm before the storm, and It's when the last string of life leaves him, does his world turn to flames.

His screech is one of murder, one of absolute hatred and anger. It's absolutely animalistic, and bloody, and filled with a poison he didn't know he had in him until he'd died.

It's hard to keep himself composed. He /doesn't/ keep himself composed. Its moments like this he's envious of those that run on logic, that run with their mind fully in gear. But here? It's a pure show of emotion and power. His rage meets his magic, and together they create a spectacular show of light and flame. It circles around him, dances on the grass and trees, sparking like electricity and dazzling like glitter. It's not entirely harmless, but he takes as much care as he can manage not to burn this body. He's been careless before, and there's nothing worse then needing to slice your skin on a fresh body, just to grow another. The memories of it don't exactly give him control, but it stops him from burning his immediate surroundings to a crisp. And when he's done he's left... Alone. His power falls off of him in waves, a display that was only moments ago a spectacular display now chilling him to the bone (haha.) It falls off of him in waves, trailing off into smoke, which quickly turns into heavy mist. It settles in the ground around him, lingers in between the blades of grass and fallen leaves. But it's harmless, now. Any necromancy taint is minimal, And he's left alone, at the mercy of his own emotions.

...

Except.

He's not alone.

As his anger dies and the flames fall, leaving him floating there, he actually notices them for the first time They're sitting close enough to him that they couldn't have gotten caught in the cross fire, but absolutely must have felt the heat of it. They look.. terrified? Pissed? It was hard to tell. He couldn't connect dots or emotions in this state, just knew that emotion absolutely should not have been a positive one. His eyeless gaze flickers over them, taking in the sight of them on the ground (broken leg? Bruised body. Possibly beaten by Allsuns men. What the hell did they do to them?)

They speak to him.

He blinks. Everything snazzy he'd thought he'd say in this moment- if his soulmate was the one to speak to him first. It's gone out the window. Something.. Vore. Something about wanting to be tied up. Something FUNNY. He just feels dizzy. Thats hard to manage, when you've no physical form.

"Oh Huh," He says, thoughtfully, glancing down at his own, skeletal wrist. The words are still there, engraved in black under a dusky grey, "You know, I wondered how I was going to tell whatever poor bastard got stuck with me about /this/." A pause, and he doesn't even acknowledge that is on their arm forever, ("Guess that cats out of the bag.") The laugh that follows is sad, and to a degree cruel. He wonders if they've been given a new soulmate yet- Another one. How ironic would that be?

Though, he thinks, perhaps this is istus' way of punishing him for his sins. Not by not giving him a soulmate. By tormenting them, his /soulmate./

Its not something he needs to be concerned about.

He hovers for a moment, glancing down at his own body. The strings that keep his soul tied to it have far since been severed, leaving him without a husk. Its a nonissue. He has another one grown, and he'll have another one soon enough. "Look, as excited as I am to meet my soulmate. Thrilled, really, honestly, like genuinely it's hard to express this right now but- Fuck it. Okay," Keeping his voice from the terror it demands to be is hard, cruel even. He manages, "We don't have time for formalities. We need to leave. I burnt through this body faster then I thought I would," something about that is wrong. He knows, he knows he needs his body. He can't just fight without it.

"Come on, it's not safe." He casts false life on them.

It's no pure heal, but it should fix them up long enough to get them out of here.

(It's a shame. The words "So, what are your thoughts on vore?" Would have been /hilarious/ on someone's arm.)

#Cherubplay #Thales #Dungeon and Dragons au

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