Evening of 35th of Ymiden 721
The groans and death rattles of Lonely-Hands' wife and daughter could be heard as they shuffled off from the dining room, to busy themselves in tasks about the house. Meanwhile, the Professor turned his eyes to Zemos, expectantly.
"Now, you've met my family. You understand what is at stake, and how dangerous this will be. It's time we talk about your progress in the other matter." Lonely-Hands spoke of necromancy, which, for whatever reasons ( possibly fear of being overheard), he referred to only vaguely. But Zemos being a sharp lad took his meaning well enough. There were developments to share, to be sure. One that might come into play in this very instance.
"Yes, Professor." Zemos began, and then paused. He expected the professor to say something else, but when Lonely-Hands kept his silence, and quirked a brow, Zemos rushed to elaborate. "I have... changes? Something has changed. I have this strange desire and compulsion to eat my food rotten. The more rotten, the better it tastes and satisfies."
Lonely-Hands considered this for a few moments, crossing his arms and holding his chin in his hand. After a moment, he commented on Zemos' change. "A rather pedestrian mutation, but still not altogether common. How fortuitous. Then you may well be able to survive this process."
The magus' confidence was truly sobering. It never occurred to Zemos that there might be a great danger in taking an arcane parasite. Who knew? But seriously, he was too preoccupied with what he had to gain, that he didn't consider the dangers fully at the time he was initiated into necromancy. By the way Lonely-Hands spoke of it, it seemed that Graft was an even more strenuous and difficult process. And Zemos had seen first-hand the results of a failed initiation in Lonely-Hands' wife and daughter. He didn't want to suffer that fate, much as their unnatural decay fascinated him, and the way Lonely-Hands had dispatched them before devolving into mush, keeping them frozen in a state of disrepair forever as undead thralls.
"Is it safe for me then?" Zemos asked the million nel question.
"No, it isn't. Regurgitated flesh is not necessarily rotten, although it will become rancid at one point or another. However, your ability to resist disease will come as a boon, and possibly be your salvation in this." Lonely-Hands shrugged, "Your ability to enjoy food that's rotten could possibly help. I cannot see it hurting in this instance, in any event."
The Sev'ryn thought about this for some time, considering the implications. He had to admit to some amount of nerves. It did look unpleasant, to become a mimai, one of those whose flesh dissolved without reprieve after a failed initiation. He didn't want that to be him! Yet he had faith and interest and passion for magic. He would not be denied.
"Are you ready, Maggot?" Lonely-Hands finally asked.
Zemos nodded, and then folded his hands on the table, waiting for dinner to be served.
Also, that he was only vaguely aware of how dangerous Graft initiation was until he was committed to it, left to wonder if he had made a good decision.