40th of Ymiden, 717.
As if such a thing were even possible, the Order of the Adunih Outpost of Scalvoris was even smaller than the Outpost in Rharne. Well, that wasn’t fair; compared to the surrounding buildings, the Outpost in Rharne was a large, sprawling complex. The room he’d been confined to, coddled like a babe in swaddling while fungus slowly gnawed at his brain, eating one neuron at a time, wasn’t so big, although that wasn’t fair either. The doctors and nurses cared for his health; whatever remained of it, at least. They wanted him to live as long and healthy a life as he still could, given the fact that he woke most days with blood pooling from every available facial orifice, and that the headaches over time had grown so severe that he’d slammed his head into the nearest wall in an attempt to… well, he wasn’t even sure what he’d hoped would happen when he’d done that. Dull the pain inside his skull by making another pain on the outside? Break his skull open so that whatever clawed little beast scratching behind his eyeballs could escape? Maybe he really did just want to end it all at that point. Death was coming for him. Why bother even waiting, through pain and misery and suffering, when he could just end it now and embrace the inevitable on his own terms instead of waiting for his head to burst with fungus like a rotten melon.
At least, that’s what he’d thought. He’d even accepted his imminent death. He’d cried, mourned, screamed, punched and kicked, he’d laid in bed for hours slowly growing numb to everyone and everything around him. He’d gone through all the five stages and more, a kaleidoscope of emotions and mindsets, each more radical than the last, each less rational than the last. He’d prayed to every Immortal. Every single one. None of them answered, not even Ziell. Now, hope came in the form of a message he’d hastily transcribed from the Echo Scroll that Faith had gifted him long ago into a new letter in his own handwriting, and now clutched tightly to his chest as he approached the Outpost. Today was the day he’d undergo a surgery the likes of which simply hadn’t existed before he discovered the dormant disease lying latent in his body for the past twenty-two years. Today, the disease that he’d been told, time and time again, over the better part of the last half-arc was incurable, would be cured. Today, death would have another life stolen from his grasp.
Stepping through the open doors with Greyhide in tow and Jasper resting in the crook of his arm always drew eyes his way, and he barely took another two steps before a young woman in a hooded green cloak immediately drew up to his side and touched his arm delicately. “I’m sorry, but your pets are going to have to wait outside…” Greyhide stiffened, but a gentle touch to the back of his head eased some of the tenseness running through the wolf. The green-cloaked woman didn’t seem all that worried. Interesting; he was quite used to recoil, at the very least. “Erm, I’m here to see Faith.” He thought about offering her the transcribed letter as some sort of proof, even though he couldn’t really copy her handwriting or signature, but the moment he mentioned her name, the woman’s eyes brightened visibly. Without a word, she ushered him deeper into the small building. Down a narrow corridor that barely left enough room for them to walk abreast, around a corner and straight into a room with pristine white walls and barely any light, apart from that coming down from a concentrated point high above onto a very uncomfortable-looking metal chair. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden change in lighting; both animals had no such hesitation. Greyhide raced eagerly to Faith and started sniffing her, while Jasper all but leaped straight out of his arms and tried vainly to cling to her chest, licking her chin affectionately. “Hey! Hey, down you two, come on now…” He grinned sheepishly. “Err, heh, sorry. Didn’t expect them to be so eager to see you again.” The young green-cloaked woman shook her head with a grimace at his shoulder.
His beard had grown out since the last time Faith saw him, his skin looked paler, and his red eyes sunk rather deep into his skull. All in all, he looked like shit. The dark room did little favours. "Uhm, well. Hey Faith." Pushing Greyhide and Jasper aside, he wasted little time in wrapping his arms around her and squeezing hard enough that his ribs creaked. "Gotta admit, I... wasn't sure I'd see you again." What had happened in Rharne, he vowed to keep in Rharne;
short of physically beating confessions out of the doctors in the Outpost, they hopefully wouldn't be telling Faith about the things he'd done to himself while left alone with his misery. "Not to doubt you or anything, but you're sure this will work, right? I mean, I'll still be..." he stopped, swallowed and suddenly decided to look elsewhere. "... I'll still be myself after this is done?"
As if such a thing were even possible, the Order of the Adunih Outpost of Scalvoris was even smaller than the Outpost in Rharne. Well, that wasn’t fair; compared to the surrounding buildings, the Outpost in Rharne was a large, sprawling complex. The room he’d been confined to, coddled like a babe in swaddling while fungus slowly gnawed at his brain, eating one neuron at a time, wasn’t so big, although that wasn’t fair either. The doctors and nurses cared for his health; whatever remained of it, at least. They wanted him to live as long and healthy a life as he still could, given the fact that he woke most days with blood pooling from every available facial orifice, and that the headaches over time had grown so severe that he’d slammed his head into the nearest wall in an attempt to… well, he wasn’t even sure what he’d hoped would happen when he’d done that. Dull the pain inside his skull by making another pain on the outside? Break his skull open so that whatever clawed little beast scratching behind his eyeballs could escape? Maybe he really did just want to end it all at that point. Death was coming for him. Why bother even waiting, through pain and misery and suffering, when he could just end it now and embrace the inevitable on his own terms instead of waiting for his head to burst with fungus like a rotten melon.
At least, that’s what he’d thought. He’d even accepted his imminent death. He’d cried, mourned, screamed, punched and kicked, he’d laid in bed for hours slowly growing numb to everyone and everything around him. He’d gone through all the five stages and more, a kaleidoscope of emotions and mindsets, each more radical than the last, each less rational than the last. He’d prayed to every Immortal. Every single one. None of them answered, not even Ziell. Now, hope came in the form of a message he’d hastily transcribed from the Echo Scroll that Faith had gifted him long ago into a new letter in his own handwriting, and now clutched tightly to his chest as he approached the Outpost. Today was the day he’d undergo a surgery the likes of which simply hadn’t existed before he discovered the dormant disease lying latent in his body for the past twenty-two years. Today, the disease that he’d been told, time and time again, over the better part of the last half-arc was incurable, would be cured. Today, death would have another life stolen from his grasp.
Stepping through the open doors with Greyhide in tow and Jasper resting in the crook of his arm always drew eyes his way, and he barely took another two steps before a young woman in a hooded green cloak immediately drew up to his side and touched his arm delicately. “I’m sorry, but your pets are going to have to wait outside…” Greyhide stiffened, but a gentle touch to the back of his head eased some of the tenseness running through the wolf. The green-cloaked woman didn’t seem all that worried. Interesting; he was quite used to recoil, at the very least. “Erm, I’m here to see Faith.” He thought about offering her the transcribed letter as some sort of proof, even though he couldn’t really copy her handwriting or signature, but the moment he mentioned her name, the woman’s eyes brightened visibly. Without a word, she ushered him deeper into the small building. Down a narrow corridor that barely left enough room for them to walk abreast, around a corner and straight into a room with pristine white walls and barely any light, apart from that coming down from a concentrated point high above onto a very uncomfortable-looking metal chair. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden change in lighting; both animals had no such hesitation. Greyhide raced eagerly to Faith and started sniffing her, while Jasper all but leaped straight out of his arms and tried vainly to cling to her chest, licking her chin affectionately. “Hey! Hey, down you two, come on now…” He grinned sheepishly. “Err, heh, sorry. Didn’t expect them to be so eager to see you again.” The young green-cloaked woman shook her head with a grimace at his shoulder.
His beard had grown out since the last time Faith saw him, his skin looked paler, and his red eyes sunk rather deep into his skull. All in all, he looked like shit. The dark room did little favours. "Uhm, well. Hey Faith." Pushing Greyhide and Jasper aside, he wasted little time in wrapping his arms around her and squeezing hard enough that his ribs creaked. "Gotta admit, I... wasn't sure I'd see you again." What had happened in Rharne, he vowed to keep in Rharne;
short of physically beating confessions out of the doctors in the Outpost, they hopefully wouldn't be telling Faith about the things he'd done to himself while left alone with his misery. "Not to doubt you or anything, but you're sure this will work, right? I mean, I'll still be..." he stopped, swallowed and suddenly decided to look elsewhere. "... I'll still be myself after this is done?"
