43rd of Frost, 4621
It was a surreal thing, to wake in someone else’s home. Arkash drew a deep breath through his nose and filled his rousing lungs with the first scents of the morning; the scents of the Veir’s bedroom.
The rising sun barely peeked through the drapes in the lowlight of the room while Arkash gathered his senses, and gradually recovered the day prior. In a flash, he recalled everything from the emergency surgery he sought to perform on his first initiate to the emotional and impassioned warmth he shared with the eccentric Sil’Norai.
His pale eyes blinked slowly while he roused, then lifted his hand over his head to see his fingers as they flexed in the morning’s twilight. There were no claws or scales to speak of; Arkash was in the form of Derek Egon. He lowered his hand as he glanced to the left, then fully turned his head and rolled to the side as he set his sights on the shape of the elf. A smile began to creep across his features while he drank the older man’s sleeping visage, and he crawled forward an inch or so to press a gentle kiss to the man’s cheek.
His chest pressed flush to Degare’s shoulder, and he ran his hand along the length of the elf’s arm in an attempt to seize his hand while he basked in the glow of the morning after, only to find something unsettling. Rather, it was what Arkash didn’t find that startled him. Between Degare’s little finger and his thumb, there was nothing. Hesitantly, Arkash tapped the hardened blood that capped the stumps of his sundered fingers and lost most of the color to his cheeks.
That was right; he’d bitten them off.
He hesitated while he held his digits in that empty space, swallowed, then took a deep breath before he leaned in to press a second kiss to the slumbering elf's cheek, then began to untangle himself from the lavish fabric of the bedding. He made no noise as his feet touched the floor, and quickly made his way to the Piano room at once.
Tired eyes focused on the dark of the room and flit about the scenery before he spied those digits where he'd left them. Three severed fingers laid dormant on the piano, built from scratch by his hands. Though the sight of some discarded body parts, laying most casually on the top of a piano was rousing, Arkash didn't pay it more than a second thought as he closed the gap with his work, collected his needle and sickle, then began to chisel the last finishing touches,
The skin was woven completely around each of the three digits, and the details of lightly wrinkled joints were carved with the smallest sickle in his kit. Arkash stood at the Piano, hunched over some small piece of meat that he held close to his shining eyes for better clarity. One groove at a time, Arkash perfected the design. Then when it was time, he carved out a space for the nails and wove a specific sort of tissue for the bedding before he used the Sinew Gun to fill in the space of his nails, then carved it into an appropriate shape.
Though he moved quickly, he was diligent in his application of the tools. Wherever he made a perceived mistake, he filled it back in with Sinew Foam and tried again... Occasionally, he glanced to the door and listened as the sound of footsteps strolled by, then returned his focus to his work when he dismissed it.
It was a surreal thing, to wake in someone else’s home. Arkash drew a deep breath through his nose and filled his rousing lungs with the first scents of the morning; the scents of the Veir’s bedroom.
The rising sun barely peeked through the drapes in the lowlight of the room while Arkash gathered his senses, and gradually recovered the day prior. In a flash, he recalled everything from the emergency surgery he sought to perform on his first initiate to the emotional and impassioned warmth he shared with the eccentric Sil’Norai.
His pale eyes blinked slowly while he roused, then lifted his hand over his head to see his fingers as they flexed in the morning’s twilight. There were no claws or scales to speak of; Arkash was in the form of Derek Egon. He lowered his hand as he glanced to the left, then fully turned his head and rolled to the side as he set his sights on the shape of the elf. A smile began to creep across his features while he drank the older man’s sleeping visage, and he crawled forward an inch or so to press a gentle kiss to the man’s cheek.
His chest pressed flush to Degare’s shoulder, and he ran his hand along the length of the elf’s arm in an attempt to seize his hand while he basked in the glow of the morning after, only to find something unsettling. Rather, it was what Arkash didn’t find that startled him. Between Degare’s little finger and his thumb, there was nothing. Hesitantly, Arkash tapped the hardened blood that capped the stumps of his sundered fingers and lost most of the color to his cheeks.
That was right; he’d bitten them off.
He hesitated while he held his digits in that empty space, swallowed, then took a deep breath before he leaned in to press a second kiss to the slumbering elf's cheek, then began to untangle himself from the lavish fabric of the bedding. He made no noise as his feet touched the floor, and quickly made his way to the Piano room at once.
Tired eyes focused on the dark of the room and flit about the scenery before he spied those digits where he'd left them. Three severed fingers laid dormant on the piano, built from scratch by his hands. Though the sight of some discarded body parts, laying most casually on the top of a piano was rousing, Arkash didn't pay it more than a second thought as he closed the gap with his work, collected his needle and sickle, then began to chisel the last finishing touches,
The skin was woven completely around each of the three digits, and the details of lightly wrinkled joints were carved with the smallest sickle in his kit. Arkash stood at the Piano, hunched over some small piece of meat that he held close to his shining eyes for better clarity. One groove at a time, Arkash perfected the design. Then when it was time, he carved out a space for the nails and wove a specific sort of tissue for the bedding before he used the Sinew Gun to fill in the space of his nails, then carved it into an appropriate shape.
Though he moved quickly, he was diligent in his application of the tools. Wherever he made a perceived mistake, he filled it back in with Sinew Foam and tried again... Occasionally, he glanced to the door and listened as the sound of footsteps strolled by, then returned his focus to his work when he dismissed it.
