viscerawizard

[viscerawizard]

It's... gotta have everything in here somewhere.

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

No. Heart's back there. [Dermis points behind itself with a thumb dismissively.] Or.. down there? [A second hand points downwards, through the floor.] Or... [Its other arms fiddle with each other, pointing one way or another, then two MORE arms emerge from Dermis's awful, wretched robes, pointing two different directions.]

Well, the window's not the house's heart, I know that. I've broken one before. It took a bit to heal.

[The window, is, in fact, scabbed over in a place.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

It's okay. [Dermis bows, folding all four of its hands over each other and nodding once. Its tail swishes behind it, curling, coiling, uncurling. In the structure of its bones lies the vaulted archways.]

Did you find what you were looking for?

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

[The glass shies away from the knife, a squeaky creak resonating - almost like a tired, grumpy whine.]

[Dermis is behind her.]

Don't hurt it, it's been good to me. Please?

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

[There are veins in this god damn glass. Veins. Real, live, pulsing veins. Everything in this mansion is very slightly warmed.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

*Dermis giggles, waving goodbye.*

"I'll see you later, then!"

*It shrinks alllll the way into itself, leaving nothing behind but a faint smell of sweat and blood.*

The clearing near the wizard's stall

*Dermis twirls, once, twice, humming happily, four arms fiddling with the hems of its tattered robes.*

@mr--zer0

[viscerawizard]

[No biggie. The mansion doesn't like that, though. Dermis and everything made of its flesh prefers the natural, the real - hormones and muscles and sinews and teeth and anything but technology's rancid, wretched cleanness. Right in front of this mildly unwelcome newcomer is a window, large and faintly streaked with red, a pattern inside the clear glass.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

[Time is actually frighteningly normal in here - if a watch is checked it will show fifteen minutes have passed. There are no clocks in the place, though.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

[The mansion is Entirely Innocent, eyes in paintings all suddenly looking away, banisters smiling on wide, empty staircases.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

[As she looks, wandering further and further, the mansion appears to get more and more hostile.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

[No response. You appear to be trapped in an elaborate mansion.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

[Hey, where's Dermis?]

[Like, actually, it appears to be entirely gone. Uh oh.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

[Surprisingly, the room is near spotless - ceilings vaulted, all wood and marble. Everything is engraved. Are there eyes in there? Are they watching you? Yeah, probably, given your host's nature.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

[viscerawizard]

I like jokes!

*Dermis's smile is very toothy and full of teeth, teethily teething.*

(ooc: oh man... spandam wizard...)

The clearing near the wizard's stall

*Dermis twirls, once, twice, humming happily, four arms fiddling with the hems of its tattered robes.*

@mr--zer0

[viscerawizard]

Thank you!

*Oh, god, is that a curtsy. It's sickening to look at, the thing dipping and weaving in and out of itself - it shrinks back into the humanoid form, humming serenely.*

The clearing near the wizard's stall

*Dermis twirls, once, twice, humming happily, four arms fiddling with the hems of its tattered robes.*

@mr--zer0

[viscerawizard]

Okay!

*Dermis's voice is singsong, following it - Dermis's body shrinks into itself, momentarily, almost like it's being viewed through a funhouse mirror, then Dermis triples, quadruples, quintuples in mass - all sinew and bone and muscle, bared, a massive shambling pile of flesh supported on too many hands to count.*

I can do things like this!

The clearing near the wizard's stall

*Dermis twirls, once, twice, humming happily, four arms fiddling with the hems of its tattered robes.*

@mr--zer0

[viscerawizard]

[The tree rushes forwards, branches enveloping the pair - they retract, soon, revealing an elaborate drawing room.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune