[Amoren] Groundwork

[Degare]

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He stood silent against the door as Vivian pondered his words, expression somewhat darker after he’d explained the way children of the Entente are treated. The smallest smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he exhaled, eyes drifting closed when the younger man’s apology reached pointed ears. Shaking his head, he reopened his eyes and offered a reply, “Oh, we have souls. Emotions. A lot of depth, actually. We’re just very broken, very flawed, and very powerful. It’s a bit of a toxic combination when you think about it, no? But such is the way of things. For all my influence, I pale in comparison to any of the Montese, much less the Treveyn or the Royals– if I were to complain, I’d fall as quickly as I rose. Blood flows freely here, as I’m sure you’ve seen,” with that, he offered soft, bitter laughter at the end of his words. That isn’t to say the Veir had no plans to poke the beehive that encompasses Daravin’s politics, just that he was still biding his time– gaining personal power, wealth, influence and so forth. "I appreciate your sympathy but there really is no point...I've made peace with my youth long ago. I don't think I'd have made it to where I am now if that still haunted me on top of everything else." The pale elf's voice is oddly wistful as he reflects about his past for a moment, thinking about the myriad ways he'd been harmed by Daravin's way of life. The ways he'd harmed others. Those who he'd been unable to help, those he'd chosen not to help...truly, Daravin was a rather gilded meatgrinder.

Redirecting the subject back to Malformity, the Ferrier explained the remaining concepts he thought that Vivian would be able to make use of. As he watched, the main appeared lost in his thoughts for a few moments before the skin on his back twisted and broke. From within, black, insect-like wings emerged. He controlled them with reasonable precision, but Degare had to wonder if they would actually function in any way. “Can you use those? Or would you have to alter your body to be lighter?” He floats the offer across inquisitively with a curious tilt to his head. “They’re an interesting accessory at the very least.”

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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Vivian]

Vivian considered the other man's words, and chewed his lip. He felt sorry for Veir Socorro even if he wasn't particularly happy with the way their coupling had gone. Perhaps the man was just emotionally stunted, ruined by a poor childhood and worse adulthood. Vivian knew what it was like to always be on the back foot, watching your spine in case someone had a knife for it. While it made him feel like he and the Veir had something in common, there was something else there that was bothering him. It wasn't just power and money like he had originally thought. There was something other lurking in the man's skull that intrigued and scared him. Maybe in the mental landscape he'd find a hint as to what it was. He still wasn't entirely convinced that the Veir wouldn't flay him alive the minute he'd been initiated. Then again, if Vivian recalled his own initiation correctly, he wouldn't be in the mood for anything other than throwing up and struggling to remember what fingers were.

He resolved to try and figure out what it was he was so bothered by. The Veir liked to talk but only when the subject interested him. Magic and academia seemed to be on his list of things to talk a lot about, so Vivian would indulge him. He turned his back so he could see the wings properly, and extended them a bit. He flapped experimentally, causing a loud vibrating hum throughout the room. He had to admit they looked rather fetching on him; perhaps clients would pay more for something that looked like a fairy out of a woman's novel. It was a thought, anyway, even if the idea of cheapening his magic like that hurt his stomach. "I can move them, but I think to fly I would have to be lighter. They're strong, but I dont think they're that strong." he said carefully, and turned back to the Veir. "What would you do with this power if you had it? It's strong; I know you're already accomplished what with using that crystalline structure and being able to ferret into my head. So why do you want this? It's not an easy path. There are days I forget what I'm truly like, or if I can ever get back to me."

Vivian slowly let go of the wings. They shivered away, buzzing loudly until they shook themselves into ash-like dust. The structures under his shoulders that supported them dissolved, causing a small pang of discomfort between his shoulders. "I'm ready to see the inside of your head, anyway." he said with a smirk. "Maybe I could use such a power."

[Degare]

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NOTES: Open me for a reminder of his Mural!

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When Vivian turned his back to display the wings, they really were pretty. Insect wings were a fascinating thing– almost crystalline in their appearance. Thin veins held together by a delicate chitinous membrane. The fluttering buzz that reverberated through the room when he flapped them was an oddly soothing sound. “I imagine so– I know another man who’s a Malformist, he mostly picks white birds or other creatures for the sake of beauty. I’m pretty sure his use of the mark is almost entirely cosmetic,” he spoke with a slight laugh at the notion that a man would endeavor to learn a magic for no reason other than aesthetics. However, the man to which he was referring definitely did get his Malformity mark for this reason alone.

“As for me…? Ah…I suppose my interest stems from the same place as my fascination with biology in general. The myriad systems that make up living things have always piqued my curiosity, for one thing. Then you tack on all the strange things I’ve seen living in Daravin from Necromancy to Malformity– even as far as the way bodies are twisted and destroyed from Bane. I want the ability to shift and warp my form at will. Create shapes that are…uniquely my own using my natural anatomy and that of whatever beasts I so choose. I’d say my interest is equal parts in learning to creatively bend biological function and artistry. Does that make sense…? Plus…I do think it’d be nice to fly.” The Veir is sort of rambling, sort of musing– he’s not really sure how to properly articulate why he wants the mark. “You don’t need to worry about me and ease of all things. I’ve subject myself to…” he trails off, sighs, somewhat annoyed, “...a lot of questionable choices with questionable results. That’s on top of all the nonsense I didn’t consent to, as well.” To what exactly he is alluding to would be impossible to guess without further context. The only thing that is clear is that from his tone he’s been subjected to physical trauma of some variety multiple times over.

Watching as the wings fell away, the Veir’s ears perked at the next comment of his. “My Mural? Alright.” At that, he raises his palm forward in front of his chest so that Vivian can clearly see what he’s doing as the electric violet strand of ether formed from his hand and slowly drifted through the air in the younger man’s direction. Snaking around to the back of his head, the Tether connected sunk into his skin and connected the two together. Wordless and with a soft smile, the Veir projects the image of his Mural into the other’s mind. In this moment, the larger of the two figures was the clearest thing in the image. Most other objects and colors were both blurred and dulled.

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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Vivian]

Vivian could see taking Malformity for purely aesthetic purposes. That would be his primary use for it, at least at the moment. Vivian wasn’t sure what the future held for him. Maybe he wouldn’t be a whore the rest of his life. Maybe it was possible to be a Valran or a Veir himself. Maybe he would travel. He couldn’t fault Veir Socorro for not knowing what he wanted out of the mark without knowing what he wanted for himself.

He reached out and touched Veir Socorro’s arm comfortingly. “It’s alright. You don’t have to know exactly what you want with it. But maybe it doesn’t always have to be war. I know what it’s like to constantly feel like you have to defend yourself and perhaps your title makes that worse. Maybe…we can both experience something as freeing as not being earthbound anymore.” He reassured him.

He watched in fascination as the Veir made subtle motions with his hand close to his chest. Delicate, almost feminine, strands of violent snaked toward Vivian. They weren’t as terrifying as the first time the Veir had used the power of him; at least Vivian had known and expected it now. It felt different from what he’d experienced during their coupling, and he felt it only scratched the surface of what the other man was truly capable of.

He closed his eyes delicately and held the image in his mind. It wasn’t as all consuming as actually being present in it; much like looking out into a lane through a window he was being given a glimpse into something. There was a figure standing there, with something streaming down out of its chest and consuming the lower half of its body. There were deep, deep reds there that reminded Vivian of blood. The more he looked, the more it reminded him of fresh blood, blood and bone and power.

Something connected Degare’s essence with biology in a much deeper way than Vivian anticipated. It was dark and lonely, and Vivian suspected that was from the man’s upbringing and profession. The Entente had left marks on him. Everything else…he pulled away from the image after a moment, opening his eyes.

“You’ve got a connection to blood, somehow. Shedding it or studying it I can’t decide.” Vivian said quietly. “Reminds me of those children’s stories about men who drift around the slums and drink blood in the night.”

He took a deep breath and reached for Degare’s hand. “Mentalism isn’t your only skill, is it?”

[Degare]

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The Veir acknowledges Vivian's words with a soft exhale and a wistful smile. “You’re right in that I don’t have a precise goal…Malformity is attractive mostly for its endless possibilities and that it allows the caster to be infinitely creative with their own bodies. I do think it’d be nice to fly free as a crow for a bit, or the like– leave behind the suffocating rules here for even just a day.” A heavier exhale of a sigh is expelled at the end of these words– perhaps he’s said too much, but in actuality, Daravin is a cage for everyone below Treveyn. The size and shape is what shifts for those below, and while his is rather gilded, it is still a cage nonetheless.

Having attached the Tether to the other, he allowed the image to be held in Vivian’s head for as long as he wanted to look at it. Degare figured that was the most fair route since he was capable of looking at others pretty much at will most of the time. However, he wasn’t quite expecting the younger man’s tone to be quite so…accusatory…or close to the mark. His brows furrowed and rose as if confused, at first, though he doesn't appear bothered by the other man taking his hands. To be honest, though, somebody that could take a hint making a guess like this wasn’t that strange. After all, the black ooze that coalesced with the blood in his Mural was Pathos from Bane– it would figure that the other material was just as important to him in one way or another.

Regardless, he still wasn’t ready to outright admit to his third mark. Closing his eyes and sighing, he opened his mouth to speak. “Hard to live here and not come across blood from a young age. I did say blood flows freely here, no? A lot of exposure can…leave marks on one’s psychology. Wires crossed here and there and now I revel in bleeding– that of others, primarily, but my own can be just as exciting. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He’s well aware of what Vivian was actually trying to poke out of him, but why not cop out with another, equally disturbing fun fact? “I can say that my particular taste in that regard is made worse by my Mentalism, though. Far easier to facilitate when nobody cares that they’re in pain. Which, by the way, is not something Mentalism can do on its own. I’ve a mutation that warps a person’s perception of pain.” This is worth clarifying since very few, if any, other Mentalists can do anything similar.

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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Vivian]

Vivian just held Degare’s hand, quietly, his thumb stroking across the back of the Veir’s skin. He had encountered a few men with fetishes like Degare’s. It helped them think they had control, in one of the most intimate ways a person could. Fear was another way to control people, or at least feel as though one was in control of the situation. He weighed the man’s words; the more Degare spoke the more he was seeing of him.

Of course, he could also recognize when he was being thrown off a scent. He had struck close to something, and the Veir was trying to make him uncomfortable so he’d stop asking about it. He couldn’t say that he was necessarily comfortable with the idea of a man who used Mentalism to lull people into submission so he could bleed them out, but something didn’t add up.

“If you like fear so much…you wouldn’t use your powers to calm them.” He pointed out with a smirk. “You need blood for something else…not just garden variety torture. If you were like the thugs on the street who skin women alive, you’d not care. At least I know you’re not wholly a monster even if you’re not being entirely truthful with me.”

Vivian raised Degare’s palm to his lips and kissed it. “You could use that power to heal, you know. There’s just as much blood splashed in a saw bones’ office as there is in a thug’s torture room. One’s just more elegant. Food for thought.” He said lightly, and let Degare go. “So, teacher…what do you want to see out of me? What can I improve?” His tone was playful, clearly ready to drop the subject of blood.

For now.

[Degare]

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The taller elf didn’t pull away or resist when he was touched, instead he stood still, a somewhat amused expression on his face as he looked down at the younger man in front of him. Amber eyes reflected back an odd, unreadable mix of emotions.

A brow is raised by the Veir regarding Vivian’s next remarks. He made some decent points, poking around at the Ferrier’s reasoning as he was. When the suggestion was floated across that he could perhaps sate his bloodlust and a more altruistic, or perhaps productive, fashion along with a soft kiss to his hand– Degare’s expression softened a bit. He’d always considered Necromancy and similar professions but he didn’t…care enough.

With a deep breath before he spoke, “I don’t like it when they squirm too much, writhe too much…gets in the way. My pleasure is drawn from the gore itself. The blood. The viscera. Fear is certainly fun and all. It definitely provides a unique sort of satisfaction; it can be intoxicating all on its own…but there comes a point where I’d prefer passivity and submission to take my pleasures.” His tone is strange. There’s an odd rise to his voice, almost as if he’s deriving some sense of pleasure from simply saying these things…or perhaps at the picture in his head. But then…there is also a certain amount of coldness in his voice, and when he was speaking, his eyes became almost distant, disconnected in his gaze.

As quickly as this strange shift in his tone and face came, so too did it go. “As for what you can do? I think you struggled the most holding onto Chimerism. My recommendation would be to try and hold multiple parts from multiple animals at once…I think that would help push you along.” As if he completely forgot the disturbing nature of what he’d just said before, his tone now is quite warm, almost affectionate in the velvety softness of his timbre.

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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Vivian]

Vivian studied him for a moment, listening as he described it. There was a far away look on his face very similar to how Vivian felt when he was studying an animal. He enjoyed studying anatomy, yet in a different and he’d venture haphazard way. Either way, Vivian was slowly learning that while Degare was mad, and a bit of a sadist, it wasn’t entirely his fault. It certainly helped Vivian to be less afraid of him. Degare was an interesting creature, and he held his secrets close.

“You do know I can’t judge anyone, much less you.” Vivian admitted. “I was…am…a rutting post for men who give me money. I don’t know what else I can do in life. Maybe if I was raised by the Entente I’d have turned out a lot like you. Either way, I’m not about to turn you in, or betray you. Whores are good at keeping secrets. You don’t need to threaten me, and you’ve been kinder to me than most of my patrons. This is the first time I’ve slept with four walls around me for a long time. Mealtimes, and getting my clothes washed and things…”

He took a deep breath. “Not even taking into account the guidance with magic. I owe you a lot.” Vivian took the notes into account, stepping closer to Degare. Chimerism. He could think of fun ways to practice that. “Ever use your magic for more…amusing things than torture?” He asked, settling his hand on Degare’s chest. “Being in someone’s head while you’re inside of them sounds fascinating.”

[Degare]

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On the Veir’s end, he had managed to figure out that Vivian was a whore even before he’d admitted it. It really wasn’t that hard to guess from the combination of how he looked and how he conducted himself…plus that dreary Mural of his. It wasn’t uncommon for people in professions like that to have rather empty, hollow sort of self images. Plus, the younger man seemed to default to offering him sex as a way to satisfy, or perhaps pacify, him in some strange form of almost self preservation. In some ways, the Veir pitied him. Sex on his end was always a choice he made for his own personal pleasure– never a tool for survival or really any other reason.

As the half-elf’s words continued, it almost felt to the Veir that he was trying to…reassure him of something? It was as if he wanted Degare to trust him enough to feel secure in sharing his less than legal secrets. His eyes narrowed at those words– his Blood Mark was held close to his chest, figuratively and literally, for a complex web of reasons that extended beyond the legal and moral failings of practicing such techniques. Honestly, to him, that mark still belonged to the man who gave it to him and was thus not his to reveal much less for him to give away. It could potentially put them both at risk.

Staying silent, his gaze lingered on Vivian as the other man continued to speak. First, words of how much he owed the noble. Then… a question about the more recreational uses of Mentalism. “I’m sure you do speak true…but I’m also sure you understand my reservations. Being surrounded by liars my entire life doesn’t make it very easy to extend my trust, now does it?” He floated this question across with a lighter tone despite the sentiment. The paranoia he’s been forced to live with his entire life is a fairly heavy burden. “I know you owe me. That’s the point– but your debt is to be paid with your mark. If I were you, I wouldn’t test my patience in that regard for too long.” The Ferrier’s tone is still light and friendly despite having delivered a threat.

“...but as for your other question, yes. My late husband and I would do that frequently. It’s a habit I’ve kept up with since his passing as well– but I will add that it puts my partners in very vulnerable positions beneath me. Is that a risk you’d be willing to take? You’ll lose your instinct to survive in its entirety.” As much as this may sound like a strange concept, that’s exactly what his mutation does. Crosses a lot of wires with pleasure and pain, yes, but it also completely disconnects the brain’s ability to care that the body is dying.

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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Vivian]

“You we’re surrounded by Entente. Think about it. What would I possibly have to gain from hurting you? I’d do nothing but cheat myself out of a teacher and a meal ticket, if I’m not being too frank with you.” Vivian smirked. Oh, he was edging closer and closer to that secret. He’d dropped that little line about turning him in to see how he’d react. Now he had an idea that Degare was just as illegal as he was, maybe in a different way. Certainly, no good would come from burying a knife in Degare’s back.

“First…” Vivian leaned in and gave the other man a gentle, almost chaste kiss. “…I like your house, and I’d like to continue staying in it. I betray you? I’m back to fleas and garbage. Secondly,” His hands wandered lower, undoing Degare’s shirt. “…you’re incredibly powerful. Crushing me would be easy. Even if someone else killed you, they’d likely kill me to just to keep me quiet. So again, I’d like to continue breathing.”

Vivian smirked at Degare. “Third, I’m starting to like you, old man.” He teased. “You’ll get my Mark, but you’ve got to understand basic things about it. It’s not something cold. Malformation requires empathy and understanding, camaraderie with things you consider lesser or unworthy of consideration.” His fingers reached for Degare’s belt. “Think of this as…practice for experiencing the world through the eyes of another.”

He smiled at Degare invitingly. “I’m here to learn. And if I don’t trust you, how do I expect you to trust me?” He tugged himself closer to Degare by the other man’s belt. “Where’s your bedroom?” He whispered, dropping his voice to a sultry tone.