Frost 13th, 4622
And with a swipe of his claw, it came free.
The nerve fell against his blood-run cheek quietly but deafening in his own ears.
He shook. His whole body quaked as he lowered his claws with their prize intact, and he beheld the darkened, shriveled mass that was once his eye.
A ragged exhale saw him seek composure and stability in the maddening events. None would come, the only solace he would find was when he'd fixed himself. He had to push through, he had to correct what was broken. After all, no one else would do it for him.
Cold blood pooled at his chin and dripped to the dusty, sandy ground of the derelict floor. Arkash's bloody tools lay sprawled before him on that stone table, the accursed mirror staring him down with all the threat it wielded.
Quite terribly, he unhooked the ruined organ from his claws and set it on the table.
The crumpled mass of dead flesh barely even resembled an eye at all. Somehow, he'd hoped the organ was still alive beneath the veil of melted skin on his face. Arkash realized then that the skin had melted his eyelids shut, and that they were in direct contact with his eye, certifying its destruction in tandem.
He swallowed. It wasn't lost, he just had to make a new one.
So, with his needle, he began to weave Sinew Thread, he wove and wove until he formed a ball of reasonable proportions, maybe a little larger than what he'd assume would fit in his head.
The etheric thread held its shape, ignorant of gravity.
And when it was done, Arkash threw the eye he was born with into the Mortar and struck it once with the pestle to liquefy it into an Activator.
With great care, he set the pestle down and gently lifted the mortal to pour the activator onto the woven ball of etheric thread. There, formed on contact, a featureless white eye. It was progress, he wasn't entirely sure where to go from there but had some ideas.
The more he embezzled in his work, the more distant the stress of his disfigured face became. So, he carried on.
A small incision was made and using that incision, he aimed the nozzle of the SInew gun and filled the eye. The substance hardened to vitreous as it transformed. Quickly, he wove a single thread with his needle and repaired the incision. Using the needle, he began to weave capillaries and blood vessels in the deeper layers of the eye and activated them with a twist of the needle.
With the front of the eye established, he began to work on the iris. The first attempt created more of the white eye flesh pigment, which he sheared away with a carving sickle. The second attempt resulted in one large pupil, which he sheared away again. For a moment, Arkash was unsure. How did he proceed? Most carefully, he felt along his working eye with his bare fingers and found a small incline, a hill of sorts, over the iris.
So, he began to weave a lens of sorts but found the work too small. So, he set up the Mortegraph in the table and peered through to adjust the lens to the correct magnification, and then moved his needlework under. From there, he was able to precisely weave the bands of his iris, the depth of his pupil, and the organic lens all beneath that small mound he'd felt before.
Arkash exhaled as he twisted the needle, and the thread took shape. Though the iris did take the correct form, it had no color. That was fine. Arkash didn't care for the color of his eyes anyway. Next came the staging of the optic nerve, which he affixed to the back of the eye using more Sinew Thread. And then, with his organ complete, he re-attached it with another weave of Thread.
As the nerve connected there was a flash of light, and then darkness.
The eye didn't work. Arkash cursed, cut it again, and placed the wasted effort in the Mortar. he splayed his fingers on the table while he shakily breathed, unsure of what could have gone wrong.
And then he looked up at the mirror, the blood that streaked his cheek a source of light to the Cardinal.
He saw his disfigured features once more, and he saw past them. He stared at his eye, the working eye. A wipe of his claws saw him pocket the luminescent blood, and the pupil of his eye dilated in complete darkness. Forward, he leaned toward the mirror, and peered into his pupil, through the lens of his eye. It was dark, but the eye of the Cardinal could see clearly even in pitch darkness. Inside, he saw the various components of his eye, the retina, the choroid, the optic disc, the tiny Macula, and the ciliary bodies. He saw everything, and it was nothing like whatever was sitting in the bowl over there.
"Okay okay," he said with another flicker of hope, then pulled his eye away from the visage. At once, he began to weave the Retina, around which he built the choroid. On the choroid, toward the front, he built the ciliary bodies and their bonds to the lens on all sides, and in the middle, he built the elastic lens. In that layer, he established the nerves and blood vessels in a similar branching pattern with the optic nerve being the main stem and then formed the sclera around it.
The iris was built as a shutter, a circular dilation device that stretched and contracted in bands, and he was sure to make them yellow that time. Atop it all, he built the cornea, then filled the eye with the vitreous as he had before. With a flick of the needle, it all set in its desired tissue types, and Arkash blinked as he stared through the Mortegraph, then removed his eye from the scope to look at the organ. It certainly looked like the real thing, he'd eaten plenty to know a fake when he saw it but the one he'd made was no such indication.
So, he lined up the optic nerve again and wove the bond. Another flash of light, and as it settled, Arkash found vision.
"Ha!" he cried out in victory. "Fuck... Oh my fuck...!" he began to tear up as he fed the optic nerve back into his skull and held his eye in its socket. Using the Embalmers tongs, he fixed the eye in place until he could build the supportive tissue. Tears welled in his functional eye as he peered into the mirror and began to rebuild the eyelids and all the muscles he'd torn on the extraction of the first eye. Finally came the basalt scales on top, and he began to look more like himself again. He removed the tong's hold, and then shut both his eyes.
He opened them then, and moved his eyes around. it felt right, nothing appeared to be doubled and his blindspot was about the same as it had been. he fixed his vision to a specific point and held that stare as he rotated his head to get a feel for his eyes again, and found everything to work just as it had before. Arkash laughed as tears of joy poured from his fully functional eyes. It was over, the rest would be easy. "Fuck..." He whispered as he wiped the tears from his cheeks.
"Sounds like it's going well," spoke Izzy's voice from the doorway.
"DON'T COME IN HERE!" Arkash all but screeched in a panic as he dove for his ragged robes.
She laughed and snorted from the hall. "Scared I'm gonna see your scales?"
"What's left of them!" he called, then thought for a moment. "How long have you been there? I wasn't paying attention."
"Since you were staring into that telescope thing you have," she recalled. Which was when Arkash was deepest in his cups. Izzy often picked the best times to sneak up on him.
"So you saw me,"
"Yep,"
Arkash wrapped his claws and metallic fingers around his muzzle while he visibly cringed.
"Sorry," she spoke after a length of silence. "I brought food, it's in one of the rooms uphill. Come get some once you're dressed - if you're hungry," she snickered as she stepped away from the doorway and audibly walked up the hall.
"Thank you," said Arkash before she fell out of earshot.
Perhaps it was time for a break? He'd made a lot of progress, and the stress of finding his eye in that state was exhausting. Something to eat, he decided, was just what he needed to soothe his nerves. So, he threw on his clothes and then made his way after her scent.
And with a swipe of his claw, it came free.
The nerve fell against his blood-run cheek quietly but deafening in his own ears.
He shook. His whole body quaked as he lowered his claws with their prize intact, and he beheld the darkened, shriveled mass that was once his eye.
A ragged exhale saw him seek composure and stability in the maddening events. None would come, the only solace he would find was when he'd fixed himself. He had to push through, he had to correct what was broken. After all, no one else would do it for him.
Cold blood pooled at his chin and dripped to the dusty, sandy ground of the derelict floor. Arkash's bloody tools lay sprawled before him on that stone table, the accursed mirror staring him down with all the threat it wielded.
Quite terribly, he unhooked the ruined organ from his claws and set it on the table.
The crumpled mass of dead flesh barely even resembled an eye at all. Somehow, he'd hoped the organ was still alive beneath the veil of melted skin on his face. Arkash realized then that the skin had melted his eyelids shut, and that they were in direct contact with his eye, certifying its destruction in tandem.
He swallowed. It wasn't lost, he just had to make a new one.
So, with his needle, he began to weave Sinew Thread, he wove and wove until he formed a ball of reasonable proportions, maybe a little larger than what he'd assume would fit in his head.
The etheric thread held its shape, ignorant of gravity.
And when it was done, Arkash threw the eye he was born with into the Mortar and struck it once with the pestle to liquefy it into an Activator.
With great care, he set the pestle down and gently lifted the mortal to pour the activator onto the woven ball of etheric thread. There, formed on contact, a featureless white eye. It was progress, he wasn't entirely sure where to go from there but had some ideas.
The more he embezzled in his work, the more distant the stress of his disfigured face became. So, he carried on.
A small incision was made and using that incision, he aimed the nozzle of the SInew gun and filled the eye. The substance hardened to vitreous as it transformed. Quickly, he wove a single thread with his needle and repaired the incision. Using the needle, he began to weave capillaries and blood vessels in the deeper layers of the eye and activated them with a twist of the needle.
With the front of the eye established, he began to work on the iris. The first attempt created more of the white eye flesh pigment, which he sheared away with a carving sickle. The second attempt resulted in one large pupil, which he sheared away again. For a moment, Arkash was unsure. How did he proceed? Most carefully, he felt along his working eye with his bare fingers and found a small incline, a hill of sorts, over the iris.
So, he began to weave a lens of sorts but found the work too small. So, he set up the Mortegraph in the table and peered through to adjust the lens to the correct magnification, and then moved his needlework under. From there, he was able to precisely weave the bands of his iris, the depth of his pupil, and the organic lens all beneath that small mound he'd felt before.
Arkash exhaled as he twisted the needle, and the thread took shape. Though the iris did take the correct form, it had no color. That was fine. Arkash didn't care for the color of his eyes anyway. Next came the staging of the optic nerve, which he affixed to the back of the eye using more Sinew Thread. And then, with his organ complete, he re-attached it with another weave of Thread.
As the nerve connected there was a flash of light, and then darkness.
The eye didn't work. Arkash cursed, cut it again, and placed the wasted effort in the Mortar. he splayed his fingers on the table while he shakily breathed, unsure of what could have gone wrong.
And then he looked up at the mirror, the blood that streaked his cheek a source of light to the Cardinal.
He saw his disfigured features once more, and he saw past them. He stared at his eye, the working eye. A wipe of his claws saw him pocket the luminescent blood, and the pupil of his eye dilated in complete darkness. Forward, he leaned toward the mirror, and peered into his pupil, through the lens of his eye. It was dark, but the eye of the Cardinal could see clearly even in pitch darkness. Inside, he saw the various components of his eye, the retina, the choroid, the optic disc, the tiny Macula, and the ciliary bodies. He saw everything, and it was nothing like whatever was sitting in the bowl over there.
"Okay okay," he said with another flicker of hope, then pulled his eye away from the visage. At once, he began to weave the Retina, around which he built the choroid. On the choroid, toward the front, he built the ciliary bodies and their bonds to the lens on all sides, and in the middle, he built the elastic lens. In that layer, he established the nerves and blood vessels in a similar branching pattern with the optic nerve being the main stem and then formed the sclera around it.
The iris was built as a shutter, a circular dilation device that stretched and contracted in bands, and he was sure to make them yellow that time. Atop it all, he built the cornea, then filled the eye with the vitreous as he had before. With a flick of the needle, it all set in its desired tissue types, and Arkash blinked as he stared through the Mortegraph, then removed his eye from the scope to look at the organ. It certainly looked like the real thing, he'd eaten plenty to know a fake when he saw it but the one he'd made was no such indication.
So, he lined up the optic nerve again and wove the bond. Another flash of light, and as it settled, Arkash found vision.
"Ha!" he cried out in victory. "Fuck... Oh my fuck...!" he began to tear up as he fed the optic nerve back into his skull and held his eye in its socket. Using the Embalmers tongs, he fixed the eye in place until he could build the supportive tissue. Tears welled in his functional eye as he peered into the mirror and began to rebuild the eyelids and all the muscles he'd torn on the extraction of the first eye. Finally came the basalt scales on top, and he began to look more like himself again. He removed the tong's hold, and then shut both his eyes.
He opened them then, and moved his eyes around. it felt right, nothing appeared to be doubled and his blindspot was about the same as it had been. he fixed his vision to a specific point and held that stare as he rotated his head to get a feel for his eyes again, and found everything to work just as it had before. Arkash laughed as tears of joy poured from his fully functional eyes. It was over, the rest would be easy. "Fuck..." He whispered as he wiped the tears from his cheeks.
"Sounds like it's going well," spoke Izzy's voice from the doorway.
"DON'T COME IN HERE!" Arkash all but screeched in a panic as he dove for his ragged robes.
She laughed and snorted from the hall. "Scared I'm gonna see your scales?"
"What's left of them!" he called, then thought for a moment. "How long have you been there? I wasn't paying attention."
"Since you were staring into that telescope thing you have," she recalled. Which was when Arkash was deepest in his cups. Izzy often picked the best times to sneak up on him.
"So you saw me,"
"Yep,"
Arkash wrapped his claws and metallic fingers around his muzzle while he visibly cringed.
"Sorry," she spoke after a length of silence. "I brought food, it's in one of the rooms uphill. Come get some once you're dressed - if you're hungry," she snickered as she stepped away from the doorway and audibly walked up the hall.
"Thank you," said Arkash before she fell out of earshot.
Perhaps it was time for a break? He'd made a lot of progress, and the stress of finding his eye in that state was exhausting. Something to eat, he decided, was just what he needed to soothe his nerves. So, he threw on his clothes and then made his way after her scent.
Image source.
