37th of Searing, 4622
Another bout of nausea, another study session. Vivian had been laying in bed with cramps all morning. He'd used his chamberpot an alarming amount of times, and had to lug it to the bathroom to tip it down the toilet. That was a shockingly hard task given that he was pale, sweaty, and felt about as strong as a newborn fawn. He couldn't use his ether on days where his mageblight was acting up. He had terrible nightmares of being in Degare's skull all night, and upon awakening had taken nearly an hour to realize he wasn't actually in the grip of the other man's mentalism. He had been sobbing in bed, clutching his head, driving his fingernails deep into his scalp to convince himself he wasn't Degare.
It was sickening. Lured into thinking he had a husband who loved him. A house he owned. A power he didn't possess. Feeling older, feeling powerful. He hated the hatred that crawled down his throat whenever Degare took ahold of him. It was the punishment meted on him for taking a gift he didn't have, and when it was all said and done he had laid, exhausted and shaking, until his bowels informed him of the physical aspect of his punishment. His stomach quickly followed that with another punch in the gut.
Gods, he was about to lose all the weight he gained with good food and exercise during Glade. Then again, he had been getting a little soft. He always liked his hips a little more prominent.
Vivian finished rinsing out the bedpan for the fifth time that morning, and half stumbled, half-crawled back into his room. He settled the porcelain bedpan down on the floor in the corner of the room, and sat down heavily on the wooden floor. He blinked, groaning and rubbing his hand over his face. It was either fall asleep, lulling between a nightmare of Degare and himself, being sick, or actually studying. Reading was better than nothing, and he had managed to get decently good at it over the course of a season and a half. He pulled the book onto his lap, opened it up, and flicked to the chapter where he had left off.
This one was about Warging.
It was a skill Vivian hadn't quite used yet, or if he had he hadn't noticed. He was realizing that a lot of the Malformity skills he used unconsciously or in conjunction with other skills, not necessarily on their own or with purpose. He never set out thinking he was going to use Warging today. He followed his feelings and his instincts, but Warging seemed to follow naturally from that.
Warging was seeing through the eyes of an animal the mage Imprinted on. There was no control over the animal involved, the Malformist was simply along for the journey. He could theoretically hold a rat, imprint on the creature, then release it into a house he wanted to learn about. It could be used for theft, and he didn't necessarily need to control the animal to benefit from it. He could also use it to get used to another creature's mode of seeing; it had been quite jarring when he had shifted into Bara only to realize that mules could see behind themselves. It could also be used to gain a greater understanding of an animal in it's natural state and form. He could simply watch life as a rat go by.
The next chapter dealt with Vectoring. Vectoring seemed to be one of the most useful skills in his arsenal. By transferring the toxin-creating abilities of the worm to the humble form of the mule, he could be toxic to whomever rode him. He could even experiment by removing the bones of the mule entirely in the way of the worm, and stretching his form out. Vivian frowned at the text. That might be a bit nightmare inducing for Bara. Perhaps there was something more elegant in mind, like adding the armor of the flea. A great, armored mule. Vivian chuckled; poor Bara. If only the mule knew how his master was planning on using his form.
Adjoining was something that seemed entirely tailored to his profession. Adding additional limbs put a smile on his face. Oh, how the slimy, flexible appendages of the worm would be appreciated in the inner circles of the Entente. Hell, it would be appreciated by any man on the street. He could pleasure several men at once. Of course, that would have to wait until his guts weren't roiling and he didn't have nightmarish visions of his former master.
Vivian laid the book aside and climbed into bed, thinking. He was grateful that he had never Initiated Degare. It would have gone poorly as an Apprentice, and he wagered that Degare knew that. The man would have burned him to a stinking husk if it meant getting more power. Vivian sighed, and closed his eyes. What did he want out of life, out of this strange power he'd been gifted? He was duty bound by the god who had gifted it to understand, wasn't he? Even further than that...he wanted to understand those who were reviled and hated. Insects, parasites, everything considered disgusting. That was why he had taken Necromancy, wasn't it? To understand biology in an even more intimate way.
If he went down that road, did he ever have the chance for happiness himself? That was what concerned him the most. Degare and Arkash hadn't raised an eyebrow, but would another man? Part of his reason for wanting to become a Veir was to meet someone. Someone elegant, and beautiful, who cared for him. Vivian laid his head on his pillow, blinking away tears that were threatening to well up in his eyes. This magic was such a beautiful, terrible responsibility. It had the power to change his entire life, but in doing so would he end up the mad hermit with thousands of pet worms instead of the happy husband he envisioned himself to be?
It was food for thought, nonetheless.
