[Solo] Recovering and Other Pursuits
Posted: Tue Aug 30, 2022 3:00 pm
4th of Searing
Attempting to steal Degare's face had been a disaster.
Vivian's headaches came in fits and starts, and his dreams were stalked by men with Degare's red eyes. Clearly, practicing magic was off the table for a little while. He had to focus on healing himself, and expanding his other skills. Degare had been so focused on training him up quickly so that Vivian would grant him his mark. Now he was gone, likely for good, and Vivian was alone. It was a strange feeling for him. He had gotten so used to the role of apprentice.
He would get up, do some chores, rush to Degare's side for lessons, then take care of Bara and sleep. It was a comfortable routine that was being torn away from him in shreds. Vivian sighed, and leaned under his bed. He pulled out a small box, and tucked it onto his lap as he returned to his sitting position on his bed. He ran his fingers over it; it was cheap wood, nothing too fancy or expensive. It was just a vessel for what Degare would have gone through. He'd actually prepared and thought over how he would Initiate the man a hundred times in his head, and now it would never come to be.
Vivian opened the box.
The caterpillar within was bloated, and shivering in agony. Vivian could see the maggots writhing under the caterpillar's skin, chewing away the last of the organs sustaining the creature. They would soon emerge, bursting from the spiracles in its sides, and spin cocoons of silk over its dying body. They would emerge as beautiful, terrible instruments of death. Vivian gently plucked the withered corpse of the mother wasp from the corner of the box, closing it and laying it aside. He settled her in his palm, sighing and turning the corpse this way and that. She was a beautiful and delicate creature.
The wasp he had chosen for Degare was the Giant Ichneumon Wasp, and it had taken weeks for the cocoons to come from a specialist. All he had told Degare was that it was for his initiation, and the cost had been covered. When the female emerged, she mated and consumed her mate. She'd laid her eggs in a caterpillar Vivian had plucked from the garden, and died peacefully. She had long, red and yellow legs banded in black, with bright orange wings. Her eyes were yellow, and her thorax splotched in a rosette pattern of reds, yellows and blacks. The terrible needle that she'd used to put an end to the unfortunate caterpillar in Vivian's box was nearly the length of her body.
Vivian had written the ritual on the lid of the box. Degare was to stand in for the caterpillar, and be infected with Malformation's power. Vivian standing in for the wasp, of course. Degare's own strength would determine whether the magic would have eaten him alive, or allowed him to emerge. Just like the wasp itself, it would have been beautiful and terrible, a close intimate embrace and deep, raw sex culminating in a mark.
With another sigh, he put the corpse back in her corner, and stowed the box away again. He'd let the wasps into the garden. It was warm enough that they could live and prey on the caterpillars in the rosebushes for years to come. When winter came, he'd ferry their children inside to keep them safe.
The ritual would be here, for the next man worthy of it.
If such a man would ever be born.
Vivian put his head in his hands. He missed Degare. He missed the madman who would act like he didn't exist one day and be spreading his legs the next. One could get twisted up with a man like that, a man so damaged and cruel...but then, Arkash had been the cure to that hadn't he? He had tamed down Degare, had sheltered and loved him, and in return he'd found something beautiful. Hot tears wetted Vivian's palms, and his shoulders shook. Would any man see him like that? Or were men like Arkash rare things only found in deep corners of the earth where monsters like Degare tread?
He rubbed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. His large, expressive blue eyes were filled with tears. Maybe he didn't deserve a man like that. Degare's story, romantic stories, weren't for little broken peasants like him. He was born alone, he would die alone, and not a soul in Amoren would remember his name.
So there was no sense crying over it.
Vivian rubbed at his eyes angrily, harshly smearing the tears away into nothing on his cheeks. His eyes burned, and his stomach still cramped. He stood shakily, and began to pull out his tools from under the bed. Maybe some work with his lockpicks would soothe him. He grabbed the little leather roll from his pack. There were locks around the house he could practice on.
Starting with the lock on Degare's desk.
He was allowed in Degare's office, mostly to borrow books. It was a comfortable room with built in bookshelves surrounding most of it, a plush couch, and an expensive rug. Degare's desk of fine dark wood crouched in the center of the room like a large beetle, shiny and unperturbed by lesser creatures like Vivian. Vivian glanced at the rug. He'd been here once before, driven to his knees and begging for his life while Degare wavered between killing him and ravishing him before killing him. Vivian chewed his lip. It had been like having a tiger on him, clawing away his clothes and demanding to see his marks.
The catamite settled into Degare's leatherbound desk chair, and set the tools on the mat protecting the desk. He selected two of his smallest tools, and got to work on the first of the drawers. The picks had to be inserted carefully, and twisted around so that the tumblers were tapped up and held in the right order. It was doing a puzzle blindly with only little claws for tools, really. Vivian leaned his head close to the drawer. A little artful twist, and he heard a click. He grinned. Alright. He pulled at the drawer and...nothing. Still locked.
He frowned, and twisted the tools again. Ah. So he felt three moving parts, and the one pushed into position. Oh! Damn! He'd accidentally dislodged the first. After fiddling around with it, the first was pushed back and the second into position with a small click. One would think the tumbler the furthest back would be the most difficult, but it took nearly a half an hour to get the foremost tumbler to release itself.
Vivian laid his tools on the desk and pulled open the drawer. Damn, nothing really interesting. Just a bunch of papers. He rifled through them for a moment, pulling out a few. They were just notes on a few of Degare's projects, and nothing he could really understand. It was nice to see his handwriting again, though. He checked through for anything interesting, then shut the drawer and eyed the other two locked compartments in the desk. It might not be the most thrilling thing in the world.
But at least...it was a way to fill an afternoon.
