Alright. Well, that is... that is alright. [Glacius murmurs, making his way inside only to have Carlisle immediately press to him. He stops where he is.] I mean... it is in line with what we know about the later stages of your condition. But do not worry, I am sure that we can find a way to fix it.
[He's delaying. Why is he delaying? He has the fix right here in his hand; though he has brought one up to rest on the cleric's back in a comforting manner, the other is holding an object made of two concentric silver rings that attach to each other on rotatable joints. Another wave of trepidation washes over him at the finality of it all; he's really going through with it, isn't he? What happens if it works? And what if Carlisle refuses? It is surely taboo for the both of them... is this going to be one of those damned if they do, damned if they don't situations?
Glacius draws a breath in through all of his gills, trying to steady himself against his own worries. It feels like that has been his primary emotion ever since he came back to his partner in this withered state after that damned voyage. He went out there because he wanted to save Carlisle, but now he has an even more direct way to do that. He has to seize it, to believe that he's making the right choice.
Besides, if he second-guesses himself now, he will certainly lose his partner; that much is absolutely clear. It is worth any pain or languishing or judgment that he might endure as a result to keep Carlisle alive. The alien nods to himself.] ... I did make you a promise, after all. Would you like to come sit with me? I can show you what I've been working on all these weeks.
[Glacius is right -- it is in line with what they know about the later stages of his condition, and terribly so, given his inevitable, approaching undeath. Revenants are animated through their own energies, surely fueled by that ire and bitterness he felt rather than anything they cherished in life. It was distant, but it was him, a glimpse into the form he would take any day now.
And that thought ignites the fear in him, its flame hotter than he's ever felt -- it fights away the cold clinging to his body... and he finds himself nodding at Glacius' proposal without thinking too hard on it. As touched as he was that his partner was so determined to find a solution for his affliction, Carlisle cannot say he has truly believed that his partner's efforts would prove fruitful; his doubt lies not with Glacius and his capabilities, but with the nature of his curse. How can one fix the very soul? Or mend it when it is in pieces? And would such a method be acceptable in the eyes of his order?
As it turns out, Glacius does have a solution, though Carlisle might not like it. What matters more to him: his convictions, or his devotion? And which one will his desperation cater to?
He beelines for the couch, his hand never leaving his partner, the physical contact more of a comfort than he can express.]
Of course. [Glacius agrees readily enough, imagining that having each other close will be helpful--both as a comfort, and a reminder of what they have to lose if they do not act. He settles on the couch once Carlisle has lead him to it, gesturing broadly for the human to join him, whether it be on the cushion right next to him or in his lap. One hand must keep hold on the construct, but he still has one other limb with which he can embrace his partner.
Once Carlisle has joined him, the ice alien carefully continues.] I am sorry it took me so long to come up with something... I know that time has been short ever since your metaphysical wound was torn wide open while I was away, but it was the nature of that injury that confounded me for so long. What could be done about it? Vast quantities of your energy had been devoured when that jaw opened wider, and with it, years of your life. The energies that I was able to feed you through the Mote have been sustaining you, preventing you from slipping away too quickly, but they alone are not enough to replace such a great loss, nor to heal the wound that causes all these problems.
Of course, you know all this as well as I do; you've been living under these effects. It was poring over your curse and being forced to watch you wither away that I finally remembered someone from my world in a... similar state. He was Kan-Ra, a dark and ancient sorcerer. I will not trouble you with the tale of his twisted, sordid past; it is not all that relevant to where we find ourselves now. What is relevant is what he did once he reawakened.
[Glacius frowns as he thinks back on his ancient enemy. Kan-Ra had been extremely problematic to him for a number of reasons; he would have never expected himself to find the answers here.] You see, his desperation to undo the withering rot that plagued his body meant that he subjected himself to a whole host of other curses and boons. The unexpected end result was that he became immortal, as none of those forces could fully claim him; always an evil-minded man, he also became quite depraved. He inflicted such chaos and evil upon the world in those ancient times that a tribe of warriors and demon-hunters eventually rose to deal with him. Unable to truly kill him they instead burned him down to mere ashes and locked those away, effectively erasing him from the world... until Ultratech accidentally unsealed his tomb centuries later.
[Glacius looks to Carlisle now and braces him with a steady hand, knowing exactly how appealing leading into all of this with the tale of a dark and mad sorcerer is. He has to hope that his partner trusts him enough to hear him out to the end... he believes that he does.] He escaped and returned to form, but was drastically weakened... desiccated. This is where I first made the connection: he suffered a catastrophic injury that left his soul in a weakened state, just like you have now experienced. He needed to restore himself, and so he plundered the plunderers, raiding the technology that Ultratech stole from my crashed ship... which he then used to make a construct that could do exactly that.
And that, Carlisle, is where I think our answer lies. [Glacius' expression becomes resolute, but gentle and reassuring. He does not want there to be any room for doubt here, or to let his partner think he fears what comes next.] Not with reapers or sorcerers, not in curses or boons, not in magic or ancient artifacts... but in our souls. I do not want to subject you to any more of that, but rather to absolve you of it all, to... heal you. To not only give you portions of my very life's essence to replace what you have lost... but to allow my soul to mend your own. You trust in the power and purity of my soul, do you not?
[Carlisle rests himself in Glacius' arms, wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and relax in the security he finds in his partner's embrace; however, he fears he will drift away once more, perhaps to never awaken. Instead, he focuses on Glacius' words as he speaks of his proposed solution, allowing the thrum of the Mote within him to keep him awake. It feels so much stronger as of late -- has it always hummed so loudly? Or is it that he leans more heavily upon its energies now?
He knows the answer -- they both do, and Carlisle has done his best not to think about it. Glacius has clearly kept it in mind, though, letting it motivate him in his search for a solution. It seems his determination might have paid off.
Carlisle would have to admit that the idea of taking any inspiration at all from an evil sorcerer is appalling, but even he can attest that sometimes, the greatest inspiration can be found in one's enemies. After all, his uncles had argued as such their entire careers, honing their skills in defeating aberrations and monstrosities by studying them; they would learn of their foes' strengths and often turn said strengths against them rather than merely exploit weaknesses. It was an intelligent approach, one that made they truly the best at their craft.
Carlisle has never been able to master such maneuvers, and as clergy rather than a hunter, hadn't been all that interested in doing so before. Times change... as has he. He now has a reason to fight, to live. He has so much more to lose now.
So as galling as Glacius' explanation may be at first, Carlisle listens intently without a word, his trust that his partner has in mind what is best for both of them stronger than any apprehension that Glacius would lead him down a road of dark magic and accursed constructs for selfish reasons, however similar to necromancy it may be.]
I do, Glacius, truly, but—
[He has one question, and it is paramount.]
Using a portion of your own essence to replace mine... it would diminish your own life. And what if this maw within me proves insatiable?
[Of all the questions Carlisle could ask of him in this—and be perfectly justified in his consternation, his worry, his judgment—this is not the one Glacius expected. Certainly not first, at least; he expected more resistance, more fear at the mere idea, and it shows. When the cleric puts forth that "but", the ice alien straightens up slightly in worry, but when the question is finally asked of him he can't help but let out a breathy exhale of laughter in relief.]
Your understanding of this is correct. [And he's a little surprised by that given Carlise's stubborn opposition to all things that could be considered dark magic, though perhaps he shouldn't be; he is well-versed in matters concerning the soul, after all.] But this is one fear that I can allay with absolute certainty. My life force is strong; I have another century before me, perhaps more, and very little desire to endure such a long time without you by my side. In other words... I have many, many years to give you, and I will give them gladly. Even if this maw consumes them and we both go together... that is better than both of us departing painfully and sorrowfully at separate times.
[Glacius holds Carlisle's gaze; his green eyes glow with sadness to consider their end, but also utmost sincerity. After a moment he smiles, seemingly at peace.] I doubt it will come to that, but no matter what happens... is it not better to walk a path hand in hand? "Together, in all things", as we have always proclaimed. My mind is made up, Carlisle. Now you must make yours.
[Carlisle's gaze is measured, but locked upon Glacius' own -- what he finds there is a hint of fear, but mostly... satisfaction. Somber, yet sincere acceptance. There is not a trace of the desperation that has driven the icy warrior to this point, but a gentle repose, sanctuary enough for the both of them. Whether in a day or in a hundred years, Glacius has decided he'd rather meet his end side-by-side with his partner, traveling together rather than moving on.
And as someone who has felt undeserving of such devotion, who has spent most of his life doubting his own worth to his goddess, his bloodline, and the world around him, Carlisle is so moved that he cannot help but stare at his partner, uncertainty and awe abound in his every feature. His lips part, teeth bared as he struggles to find his voice amidst his confusion.]
I... [He swallows, fingers tightening on Glacius' hand. He pushes his glasses aside, pawing at his eyes.] It was not by my hand that I was cursed. It was never my decision to be born into a lineage I could not uphold. I thought that, perhaps, my only true choice in this existence was whether I continued to live so that I could make my amends, or took my own life and left this plane with one less blight upon it. And yet, when I discovered what would become of me upon death, I realized I had no choice in that matter, either. I could not leave you in heartbreak, alone to fight an unnatural being of my own creation.
Not that I want to face my end, of course. I... I have so much more than I ever did. More than I ever truly imagined possible for myself. And I would do anything to keep it -- to keep you.
[He sighs, shaking his head.] However, I thought that, as in most things, I had no true agency. What time I was allotted with you was to be measured in finite years, if that long. I would eventually succumb to this condition or the madness it brings, and there would be nothing I could do about it. I have felt it clawing its way up, poisoning my mind more and more as the days pass. I sometimes awaken, but cannot tell if I am still dreaming...
[His eyes return to Glacius, tears welling within them, shining like stars in their glow.]
I am admittedly frightened. Terrified of the prospect, no matter how much I have ultimately accepted it. I made plans should the worst happen, wrote out a will. But in the back of my mind, I assumed that even if you did find a solution, you would take it upon yourself to see it through, no matter what the danger, and no matter what I thought. It is... an admirable quality, but one where I am left with no hand in my existence all the same. I would trust nearly any decision you made on my behalf, even if I did not approve of the methods.
[Glacius knows well of the arguments he's had with Kate along similar veins; however, he actually trusts Glacius to respect his wishes. He cannot say the same for her.
He lets his hand trail to the side of Glacius' face, to the familiar hollow of his ruined mandible.]
But you are giving me agency here. A choice in this. That means- that means more to me that I can truly express. And as scared as I may be that this will fail, or that my goddess will disapprove, or that this adaptation of technology and dark magic will somehow destroy us both... I find the outcome otherwise to be a worse fate for both of us. Rather than be parted by this, I would face it together, with you.
[He leans forward just a bit, offering up his forehead in their personal sign of affection.]
Together, in all things, be it life, death, or somewhere between.
[Glacius' face falls noticeably when Carlisle mentions writing his will—even though he knows his partner was absolutely right to be preparing for his end with the way things have been looking for him recently, knowing that he was actually so certain of his death is painful in a new and different way. It is something he will want to bring up later, but right now he feels it is time to embrace life, not the thought of death.
So the ice alien listens patiently as his partner tells his story and expresses just how trapped he has always felt in his life. Glacius has heard it, knows it...but not with this ending. An ending of agency, and out of that is born trust and courage, the courage he knew that Carlisle had deep within him. he cannot help but smile as he feels his hearts tremble with love and utter relief.] Trust me, I was wary of the nature of this construct, this... Siphon as well. But that is why I took the utmost of care with its construction, whittled away certain aspects of its design, and... well. One must walk in the dark before they can see the sun rise once more. Beyond that, just... thank you Carlisle, for the fact that when given a choice you chose me—no, us. I know that there were, ah... a lot of different ways this could have gone. [The ice alien can't help but let some of his nervous energy blow out of him in a little chuckle. Then, he closes his eyes and leans the ruined side of his face into his partner's carress, quietly considering all that brought them together, finally to this point.
Though he feels at peace now that they have a chance, a real shot at giving Carlisle a future, he can't hold himself back forever. Eventually his green eyes open again, and his cheekbones pull up into a smile.] Would you, ah... would you like to try it out now? I do not want to rush you, but... you have been enduring this for so long... and I have long awaited the realization of one of my many promises to you.
[One must walk in the dark before they can see the sun rise once more. Carlisle smiles, liking that. He might not have believed such sentiments a year ago, a month ago, even a week ago; however, he can see Glacius has put a lot of thought and consideration into this, into saving him and keeping them together. Glacius had always insisted he would do all that was possible, and Carlisle never doubted that, but he knew he would pass eventually, and his partner would have to soldier on. He's young, after all, has many years ahead of him. Why would he want to be tied down to a sickly human?
But the icy warrior doesn't want to merely move on once Carlisle dies, no more than the clergyman wants to leave him to deal with the heartache of loss. He knows intimately that kind of horrible solitude, having struggled with it for years after his uncles disappeared, and would never wish it upon anyone, certainly not his partner. Yet, as much potential as it sounds like this idea of Glacius' has, Carlisle cannot help the trepidation that lingers in his gut. They cannot put this off any longer, lest the fragments of his soul drift further and they lose one another forever.]
Of all the times and all the worlds, all existences and iterations of people that could be spirited to this place and others like it, we were brought together. [He grins as the slightest chuckle escapes him.] Twice, even. Perhaps it is serendipitous circumstance... or perhaps I am meant to be beside you. Either it works, and we remain... or it fails, and we likely destroy our souls in the process, damning us both. But if I am damned, I would rather be damned with you than for either of us to be left in this existence alone, never knowing if we will ever cross paths again.
[He presses his forehead to his partner's in their realization of a kiss.]
Any time you claim to not be a romantic, I will remind you of your sentiments in this moment. [Glacius also cannot help but grin, albeit slightly nervously. He is not sure how he feels about this talk of mutual damnation... he knows it is a risk as much as condemnation from their respective people for dabbling in something like this is. Deep down, however, he truly does not think it will come to any of that... and what is he if not a being that sticks to his convictions?
Now is the time to follow them, then; no matter where they lead, it will be better than letting Carlisle face an eternity in that nightmarish land he's been lost to in his dreams. The ice alien nods when his partner agrees to go through with it, pulling the metal rings away from his chest. Holding it carefully, he uses one sturdy finger to gradually turn the innermost ring until it is perpendicular to the outer one; once that is done he closes his eyes and allows his Mote to manifest not in his palm, but in the space within that innermost ring. Eyes still closed, Glacius' brows furrow as he concentrates even harder, pouring more of himself into this artifact—to the point that a crystallized sphere of ice begins to form within that same ring, completely encasing the Mote.
Drawing a short gasp as his green eyes open, the ice alien takes a moment to regard the Siphon. It looks as he expected it to, if not more pure than what Kan-Ra had attempted to use against him. The framing rings of the sorcerer's make were rough black metal pulled from scorched pieces of the alien's ship; now they are the silvered steel of his pristine power cell. A chunk of strange crystal has been replaced with the sharp rays of his mote, and smooth, glimmering ice has been substitued for faceted glass that ones held it. It is now a thing of his own make... benevolent, ready to give, not dark and hungry.
He extends it towards Carlisle, holding it between them. A spark of apprehension hits him, as he has no idea what to expect from this deep of a transferrance, but he refuses to let fear win out now.] When you are ready, place your hands upon it and lace your fingers with mine. Then... well, I do not know exactly how it will go. But we must both focus on mending your soul with new life. I suspect this construct will do the rest.
[Carlisle watches as Glacius produces the result of his labors, and he finds himself taken aback. It's not as sinister as he would have imagined, but rather elegant in design, particularly in the way it unfolds, allowing it to encapsulate the Mote. And the silver of it is so pristine, far purer than expected for a construct designed int he spirit of a vile artifact. Has he seen such material in Hadriel before? Carlisle cannot place where...
He feels his mind wandering, thoughts drifting away as he tries to recall, only to delve so deeply into his memories that they become like a dense fog, swallowing him; he is brought back as Glacius addresses him again, life flickering back into his eyes as they affix themselves on his partner before him. Glacius' apprehension is matched by his own, but Carlisle cannot allow himself to falter now, not when his partner has worked so hard on a solution, and not when he has lost his grip on himself now three times today. It is getting worse, and they are out of time.
Carlisle steels himself as instructed, placing his hands upon Glacius' own, letting their fingers entwine. The Mote thrums within the Siphon, and Carlisle instinctively channels into it, allowing it to flow within his own aural canals—
And the construct, as Glacius suspected, does do the rest. As their energies connect through the Mote and Siphon simultaneously, the device comes to life, its silver frame resonating in tandem with the Mote. Carved lines along the Siphon's sides illuminate on one ring, then the other, then into the pair's hands; Carlisle feels his veins ignite with white-hot fire, the sensation cutting through the numbness of his limbs so sharply that he's sure they will shatter from the impact. His eyes, so bright already with the Mote's energies, are suddenly blazing, and he can see the room lit by them before the light blinds him completely.
Carlisle's body, so fragile and so emptied of his own essence, is an undeniably draining vessel to fill. The process seems to last for hours, for days -- he loses all sense of time amongst the agony, so sure it is never-ending. The cacophony of energy he hears is not just from the hum of the device, but ringing from within him, reverberating and echoing on both physical and metaphysical planes. His head feels as though it will explode, and he nearly lets go; however, it is Glacius' grip that keeps him there, their threaded fingers stitching them together, grounding him. There's a loud crack from the ice enveloping the Mote, then another, and a third as it fractures fully.
And finally, the hum dies down, as does the glow of Carlisle's eyes as the fumes of aural overload rise from them, steaming with energy. He remains motionless save for a tremor that runs through his spine, the entire room settling around them, falling into an unearthly silence. The stillness is broken by a gasp that pries its way from the clergyman's chest.]
Gla...
[His utterance goes unfinished as he goes completely slack, his body falling forward onto his partner and the Siphon. For a moment, it might seem as though it didn't work, the Siphon having drained the two of them and producing no results; however, Carlisle's chest rises and falls with the breaths of the living rather than the dry rattles of a Revenant, and among the colorless strands of his hair, there is a single strand of vivid, cinnamon hair.]
[As their hands interlace over its surface and the Siphon activates, Carlisle's world becomes one of roaring energy, flooding channels, blinding light and the pain of being reawakened. Glacius, meanwhile, experiences quite the opposite; it is as if the world drops out underneath him, plunging him into darkness as he feels himself getting... sucked into the device? It is a forceful pull, one he feels he could not hope to break way from now that he's initiated it, and so he instead tries to simply surrender himself to it fully.
At that point he does not feel much of anything at all; while the process seems to take days for Carlisle, it is over in the blink of an eye for Glacius—similar to coming around after being put under general anesthetic for an operation. He does feel a similar sense of grogginess and disorientation as well. It is not pleasant, but the alien had expected having his life force drained from him to be much more... excruciating, debiliating. Now that he thinks about it, perhaps the earliest uses of the Siphon will be the easiest, as his soul is still so strong and vigorous. It is likely that these sessions of transference will become harder and harder on him the less he has to give... which seems to be the exact opposite of what his partner is going through, if the way he has collapsed afterwards is any indication.
This unresponsiveness would normally because for great alarm if they were not metaphysically entwined. As it is, Glacius can feel not a lack of strength or spirit in his partner, but the embers of new life steadily burning away within his partner. This is nothing like the aural exsiccation Carlisle suffered months ago, when he passed out for days after spending too much of himself mending his partner's wounds; his body is simply taking the rest it so sorely needs, now that it has strength to draw on for recovery.
In other words, it seems as though their gambit worked, and Glacius cannot describe the relief he feels at that inkling. He pulls both of their hands away and returns the Siphon to its resting state, then brings his partner to his bed to rest as he has many times. The difference now is that it isn't due to terrible injury or exhaustion; that awful, heartbreaking cycle has finally been broken. This time, the ice alien can content himself to feeling that ember of life gradually start to burn brighter and stronger the longer Carlisle rests. This time, he knows his partner is coming back.]
[Carlisle is indeed coming back, and in more than one way. Unresponsive as he is during his hibernation, his body itself takes on a new life, color returning to it day by day. Soon enough, he looks about as he did before the incident with the cliff, his skin pale (but certainly not as colorless as it had been) and his hair a faded chestnut... save for that one strand of red hair hidden against his scalp. A day later, another appears, then another. Then several more. As it turns out, the Siphon did not merely replenish what was lost before he came to Hadriel, but much more.
The moment he is aware enough to realize he's alive, Carlisle awakens, sitting up as he buries his face in his hands, his head throbbing painfully. His stomach aches -- hunger -- and his head pounds -- thirst, likely -- but he is very much alive. He can feel the thrum of the Mote within him, resonating in tandem with his heartbeat; there is sharp pain in his forearms from where the energy seared his scars, making his fingers curl; against his feet, he can feel the softness of the sheets in a way he hasn't noticed before. It has been so long since he's had such acute sensation, months now as he's wandered through each day like the near-corpse he is destined to be. It all feels so... heightened. Incredible. Invigorating, like when he and Glacius are together, their energies cycling and colliding throughout—
GLACIUS
He pulls himself from the bed, his limbs unsteady; as he leans into the nightstand for support, he fumbles for his glasses, unable to find them. Have his pajamas always been this soft? And the floor so hard? A laugh trickles out of him as he seems -- feels -- the world anew. He doesn't want to experience such wonders alone, though -- he needs his partner. Glacius... is all right, isn't he? He didn't suffer from the device draining his life away, did he? He insisted he wouldn't, and Carlisle believed him.
The clergyman's euphoria dissipates in an instant as his natural inclination for worry takes over. Alive and renewed as he may be, he is ultimately still Carlisle Longinmouth, a man of many concerns. The Mote hums within his chest, more concentrated than before -- and he finds comfort in that, in knowing his partner must be okay. He even... feels closer somehow. More connected than he once was to both his partner and the Mote.
He can ponder the lasting effects of this Siphoning later, Carlisle decides.]
[If Carlisle is looking for his partner, his newly restored senses should point him in the right direction; there's a slight chilled depression in the bed next to him, and still-frosty footprints lead out the door, showing that Glacius had been with him mere minutes before and has only just recently left the room. Perhaps he sensed that his partner was beginning to come back around and went to prepare food and drink for him, if the scattered noises from the kitchen are any indication; however, they come to an abrupt halt the moment Carlisle comes to, his silent shout resounding across their link.
Glacius is already moving when his partner calls for him, setting aside plates and dishes and moving from the kitchen. By the time that second, gentler inquiry comes through he's already coming through the door... but he finds himself stopped up short by the sight that awaits despite himself. He's been aware of the color and vibrancy gradually seeping back into Carlisle's body as he slept, but to see the young cleric standing there now, healthy and whole... it brings him more joy than he can ever express, but the way his cheekbones lift high enough to push crinkles around his eyes in a warm and loving smile surely speaks volumes.]
Welcome back to the land of the living, my Bondmate. [Glacius purrs, clearly taking in the fruits of all their hardwork. The human's skin has a warm tone to it rather than the unsettling cold pallor that made him look more like a ghost, he can see blue in his eyes again, and... on top of his head sits not old grey hair, but vibrant cinnamon strands, still mussed from his long time asleep. Delighted surprise strikes the ice alien's face—he had not expected such striking color, but come to think of it, he does now remember such a thing from an old portrait Carlisle once showed him.] Are you feeling well? You do, ah, certainly look well. Perhaps you should find a mirror.
[Carlisle returns the smile Glacius gives him, though his is born more of relief than anything else. Though he could feel Glacius' presence through the Mote, its reverberations within him steady, he'd wondered if his partner might somehow appear different, worn from their shared ordeal, yet here he stands, as stalwart and strong as ever. He doesn't look as pale as Carlisle had, so colorless and devoid of life; he still shines as vibrantly as before, having enough energy to sustain them both, as promised. Carlisle cannot say how long that will be true -- and he isn't sure he wants to consider it just yet, certainly not when he is still processing the possibility that he isn't going to succumb to his own curse.
Glacius seems so optimistic about it, his adoration abundant as he purrs. Carlisle places a hand along Glacius' chest, his partner's cold armor a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of his tone.]
A mirror? Why would...
[And that's when he catches sight of his own hand, its color vivid -- healthy in a way it hasn't been in years, well over a decade. Though there is still the residue of ink under his nails and the seared scars of aural overload lining his wrists, the hue of his own skin has him in awe. His gaze flicks to Glacius before he takes off to the bathroom and the suggested mirror.
From down the hallway, Glacius might hear a chuckle... then another and another as they bubble in Carlisle's chest, making their way out of him; it's the laughter of uncertainty, but also raw disbelief. He's seen the old portrait of himself with its unfamiliar smile and depiction of his younger years; however, to see himself so restored, here and now, moves the clergyman to tears. His eyes grow bleary as he runs his hand over his reddened hair, his fingers sensitive enough to feel the individual strands.
Though not entirely as he was before -- his eyes still glow with the light of the Mote, and there will always be those bags under his eyes -- Carlisle cannot help but marvel at his new form as he murmurs to himself.]
I... I had forgotten what color my hair was. Who I might be were I not cursed. I- I can't believe it.
[Glacius gives Carlisle a moment to himself in the bathroom to fully take in the changes, but he ultimately ends up joining the young cleric—finally looking appropriately his age once more—so they can observe and revel in the effects of the Siphon together.]
To be honest, I had forgotten as well—I was shocked until I remembered that old portrait you showed me. The results of our soul-sharing are... greater than even I had expected, and it brings me endless joy to see as much.
[The ice alien exhales in a happy sigh, putting his hand on Carlisle's shoulder... but then, unable to resist, he drifts it up his partner's neck to his head, where he tousles those reddish-orange strands.] But we should be clear about one thing: you have always been the same person, curse or no. Now, you simply look it once again. I hope you feel it too, I know... I know that things got very discouraging for awhile, there.
[Carlisle leans into Glacius' hand as it trails up his neck, grinning wider as his partner ruffles his hair. Not too bothered by it, as his hair is already a mess from his long sleep. He has plenty to be happy about at the moment as it is.]
Discouraging, indeed. I had expected to feel better, if anything at all, but this! I never thought this possible -- any of this. And while I cannot say that I don't have... certain concerns regarding how this will work in what are hopefully years to come, I will save those for another day. Right now, I- I want to revel in this. I want to revel in us and cherish you in a way I could not before.
[He turns to face his partner, his eyes aglow, tears still brimming in them as he places his hand along Glacius' scar, guiding him so that their foreheads may meet. Unfortunately, as ready as he is to enjoy this newfound vivacity, his body isn't quite as ready as a loud grumble roars from his middle.
Willing to put aside your immediate concerns? You must be feeling better. [Glacius' voice is back to a purr as he allows his head to be down and forward, allowing Carlisle's forehead to meet his. He is similarly ready to celebrate all of this—the success of their efforts, his partner's renewed vigor, and lifted spirits—but it seems like there are more pressing needs that must be addressed before they can fully cater to their desires.
Even this, however, the ice alien finds charming. It is a strange and funny thing, how much lighter everything seems now that Carlisle's future is secured.] Ah, your face matches your hair now. [He cannot help but tease gently, giving Carlisle a fondly teasing smile before he pulls his head up and away entirely, leaving the cleric to take that for the moment. For his part, the ice alien starts walking towards the kitchen, waving for the human to follow him.] A couple of days, so it is no wonder you are hungry. Lucky for you, I was working on that while you slept. Come.
[Still as red as his hair -- and redder still as Glacius teases him, however gently -- Carlisle follows Glacius down the hallway, his steps measured as he struggles to find his footing.]
I'm sorry you were left to worry for so long, my partner. And alone! How much you have had to bear on my behalf...
[He keeps a hand along the wall for balance, his legs unsteady as he adjusts to being able to feel them again. He's been losing sensation in his limbs month by month -- and since the incident with the cliff, day by day. It has been some time since he had full use of his faculties, not having to fight the exhaustion and the stiffness that comes with both his affliction and his craft.
He's sure both of those will return later. Lively as he may be now, the maw within him still feeds. How long until they must use the constructed artifact again? Will the aural tear within him ever be filled, or will it continue to drain them both with every use?
His stomach growls again, drawing his mind from the fears gnawing at the back of his mind, and he continues into the kitchen.]
[It might be hard to see given how Glacius is currently leading the way, but Carlisle might be able to catch a hint of a beleaguered smile on the alien's face. It is tired, containing some traces of worry left over from the predicament they have just passed through... but it is at least a smile nonetheless.] Ah, well. It was harrowing at first, but.. I could feel you—feel the strength and life gradually ebbing back into your soul. It was nothing like the previous times I have lost you for days, so it could have been worse. I am just glad that all of that truly is the past now; I can say that it was worth it, to bear all of that in the end.
[The ice alien starts to walk again, but the second growl from his partner's stomach draw his attention. Swiveling his head to cast a glance over his shoulder, Glacius realizes that Carlisle is having to hold himself up as he moves, and falls back to be that support, offering his arm or the crook of his elbow—whatever is easiest. Despite how much healthier the clergyman looks, it is hard for the otherworldly being to not feel worry; after what they just went through, he'll probably still be on red alert for any signs of decline.] ... Are you alright? You seem a bit rickety, still.
I am a bit rickety. Forgive me, I am- I am still adjusting, I suppose. It has been some time since I could fully feel the ground beneath me. I can close my eyes, and... know the world is still truly there.
[When he says things like that, it's no wonder he had trouble discerning reality from nightmares. It's not that he doesn't want to continue to hold onto them as being the only thing that is truly real, of course -- that fact has grounded him for so long, held him to this world when even his own willpower could not. As with many joys he has found in his brief, but tragic existence, he is reluctant to let it go. However, there is comfort in the fact that Glacius undeniably feels the same.
And so he's happy to lean on his partner for support, his fingers tracing Glacius' forearm.] What's more is that I can feel you now. I- I could before, but it's stronger in some way. This bond between us -- I suppose it is because there is more to be bonded with... and what makes up me is also your own. Does that make sense? We are- we are more intertwined than we have ever been.
Alright, but that is—I mean, at least it is rickety in a better way than you have felt in the past. You are adjusting to life, not to approaching death; it is not instability because of fatigue or weakness, but because you are getting your feet back under you. [And that is... sort of endearing, if Glacius is being honest. It is almost like watching a young animal learning to take its first steps, given that life in general is probably a new feeling for Carlisle all over again.] Besides, some wobbliness is to be expected after waking up from a few days worth of sleep. You'll get better.
[This the alien assures his partner as he helps him get a grip on his arm, and then starts them both walking again. Thankfully the couch in the den is not far!] And yes, that does make sense... but what of me you have taken is now your own. Try not to think of it as some outside force pulling you along, some... other. It is your strength now. In time you will get used to calling on it again.
[Carlisle nods, allowing Glacius to support him as they make their way into the den, keeping his hand his partner's arm as he steadily finds his balance.]
I know I should be more concerned with the extended ramifications of this venture, but- but it's so strange now. I am a foreigner in my own skin. How novel it is to feel so alive when waking, something I have only felt recently when... er.
[He reddens just a pinch, knowing Glacius will understand. There were times when Carlisle would crave intimacy, desperate not only to be close with his partner, but also for the cycle of energy through himself, Glacius, and the Mote. The current was powerful enough to force the numbness from his limbs and the chill from his body; however, such a reprieve was temporary. It may be now, as well, but with his frame no longer an emptied, cavernous vessel, perhaps the effect will be even longer lasting. Perhaps even more euphoric than before, he considers.
And that thought makes him burn even worse, as does his impatience to find out. He will sooner accept this new life of his than he will his own appetence.]
[Glacius pauses, and though the words he speaks next might seem grim, he does not frown or seem ill at ease as he utters them. He knew the risks when he constructed the Siphon; he knew it was a sacrifice, and true to his word, it is one he is prepared to follow through on.] I think I can hazard a guess as to the ramifications; I will eventually dwindle as my life's essence is divided repeatedly between us, and when I have nothing left to give, then our times will come together. But that will not occur for some time—a great many years from now—and those years will be happier for our sharing. To give you the life that you deserve... a life where you can thrive, and not merely struggle to continue living... though it is natural to worry, I think that is worth any potential ramifications.
[And it truly speaks to Glacius' devotion, that he is able to talk about such a sacrifice so easily and simply. When most couples talk about giving all that they are for each other, they do not mean it so literally. Beyond possessions or a place to call home or emotional support—though he offers all of that as well—the alien has pledged the deep well of his very essence to his partner. His life is one lived in service now... and he only seems happier for it, given that it means he gets to keep his partner around.]
[Carlisle's blush fades as Glacius takes his mind away from their more intimate moments and to the reason they will be able to have any more in the first place. His partner puts so plainly, so matter-of-factly the long-term consequences of this venture: the maw within him will devour Glacius' energy through him, and eventually consume them both. A grisly end no matter what they did, and one that ends his partner's life as well as his own as his affliction curses them in tandem.
But Glacius doesn't seem bothered by this, and it speaks volumes of what his opinion is in the matter. He's absolutely right: they have years together now, surely more than he would have ever been afforded naturally. They are years the two of them will spend with one another, experiencing a life they could not have seen otherwise: one where Glacius keeps his partner, and one where Carlisle is alive. Moreover, Glacius chose this -- he chose to gift Carlisle his Mote, chose to build this Siphon, chose to surrender his energies bit by bit so that Carlisle could sustain himself on them. He may become a Revenant later, but for now, he exists as some kind of... aural vampire.
As much as Carlisle dislikes the comparison to any undead, figurative or not, he cannot help but be truly touched by his partner's dedication. Those years Glacius is giving up are ones he could have spent serving his people, making his mark upon the worlds with his life beyond his coupling with a mere human. And yet, when given a choice, agency in this awful place where it is so often stripped from them, he chose Carlisle.
The clergyman reddens again, but no longer from embarrassment as he fights back more tears in his eyes. One hand paws at them while the other seeks the comfort of his partner's touch, resting upon his broad, icy chest as they stop before the couch.]
What is it I have done with my life that has made me deserving of such a wonderful partner? Of someone as devoted to me as one may be to his goddess, or to his own people... or more?
[Glacius turns back towards Carlisle entirely now as he feels his partner reach for him; as he does, he sees the bleary-eyed expression that his partner is wearing, damp and flushed with emotion. The ice alien's face adopts a funny look in turn, as if he is surprised to see that much feeling, or perhaps confused that a human could feel such things for him. He simply did what he had always promised he would; he did what he feels would be expected of a good partner.
Glacius reaches out to ruffle those cinnamon locks, still mussy from long sleep, in a fond and reassuring way.] We have talked about this before, have we not? You have been a better friend and now partner than I could have ever hoped for; all the times I have needed you most, you have been right at my side. It is only fair that I return the favor—that I give you what you need, same as you have done for me.
[The otherworldly being pauses, then gives Carlisle one more pat before starting to walk them towards the den once more.] And that includes not letting you topple over due to malnourishment. Come, sit, and I will bring you some food and drink. Is there anything you want in particular?
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[action forever]
[He's delaying. Why is he delaying? He has the fix right here in his hand; though he has brought one up to rest on the cleric's back in a comforting manner, the other is holding an object made of two concentric silver rings that attach to each other on rotatable joints. Another wave of trepidation washes over him at the finality of it all; he's really going through with it, isn't he? What happens if it works? And what if Carlisle refuses? It is surely taboo for the both of them... is this going to be one of those damned if they do, damned if they don't situations?
Glacius draws a breath in through all of his gills, trying to steady himself against his own worries. It feels like that has been his primary emotion ever since he came back to his partner in this withered state after that damned voyage. He went out there because he wanted to save Carlisle, but now he has an even more direct way to do that. He has to seize it, to believe that he's making the right choice.
Besides, if he second-guesses himself now, he will certainly lose his partner; that much is absolutely clear. It is worth any pain or languishing or judgment that he might endure as a result to keep Carlisle alive. The alien nods to himself.] ... I did make you a promise, after all. Would you like to come sit with me? I can show you what I've been working on all these weeks.
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And that thought ignites the fear in him, its flame hotter than he's ever felt -- it fights away the cold clinging to his body... and he finds himself nodding at Glacius' proposal without thinking too hard on it. As touched as he was that his partner was so determined to find a solution for his affliction, Carlisle cannot say he has truly believed that his partner's efforts would prove fruitful; his doubt lies not with Glacius and his capabilities, but with the nature of his curse. How can one fix the very soul? Or mend it when it is in pieces? And would such a method be acceptable in the eyes of his order?
As it turns out, Glacius does have a solution, though Carlisle might not like it. What matters more to him: his convictions, or his devotion? And which one will his desperation cater to?
He beelines for the couch, his hand never leaving his partner, the physical contact more of a comfort than he can express.]
Hold me while you tell me of it.
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Once Carlisle has joined him, the ice alien carefully continues.] I am sorry it took me so long to come up with something... I know that time has been short ever since your metaphysical wound was torn wide open while I was away, but it was the nature of that injury that confounded me for so long. What could be done about it? Vast quantities of your energy had been devoured when that jaw opened wider, and with it, years of your life. The energies that I was able to feed you through the Mote have been sustaining you, preventing you from slipping away too quickly, but they alone are not enough to replace such a great loss, nor to heal the wound that causes all these problems.
Of course, you know all this as well as I do; you've been living under these effects. It was poring over your curse and being forced to watch you wither away that I finally remembered someone from my world in a... similar state. He was Kan-Ra, a dark and ancient sorcerer. I will not trouble you with the tale of his twisted, sordid past; it is not all that relevant to where we find ourselves now. What is relevant is what he did once he reawakened.
[Glacius frowns as he thinks back on his ancient enemy. Kan-Ra had been extremely problematic to him for a number of reasons; he would have never expected himself to find the answers here.] You see, his desperation to undo the withering rot that plagued his body meant that he subjected himself to a whole host of other curses and boons. The unexpected end result was that he became immortal, as none of those forces could fully claim him; always an evil-minded man, he also became quite depraved. He inflicted such chaos and evil upon the world in those ancient times that a tribe of warriors and demon-hunters eventually rose to deal with him. Unable to truly kill him they instead burned him down to mere ashes and locked those away, effectively erasing him from the world... until Ultratech accidentally unsealed his tomb centuries later.
[Glacius looks to Carlisle now and braces him with a steady hand, knowing exactly how appealing leading into all of this with the tale of a dark and mad sorcerer is. He has to hope that his partner trusts him enough to hear him out to the end... he believes that he does.] He escaped and returned to form, but was drastically weakened... desiccated. This is where I first made the connection: he suffered a catastrophic injury that left his soul in a weakened state, just like you have now experienced. He needed to restore himself, and so he plundered the plunderers, raiding the technology that Ultratech stole from my crashed ship... which he then used to make a construct that could do exactly that.
And that, Carlisle, is where I think our answer lies. [Glacius' expression becomes resolute, but gentle and reassuring. He does not want there to be any room for doubt here, or to let his partner think he fears what comes next.] Not with reapers or sorcerers, not in curses or boons, not in magic or ancient artifacts... but in our souls. I do not want to subject you to any more of that, but rather to absolve you of it all, to... heal you. To not only give you portions of my very life's essence to replace what you have lost... but to allow my soul to mend your own. You trust in the power and purity of my soul, do you not?
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He knows the answer -- they both do, and Carlisle has done his best not to think about it. Glacius has clearly kept it in mind, though, letting it motivate him in his search for a solution. It seems his determination might have paid off.
Carlisle would have to admit that the idea of taking any inspiration at all from an evil sorcerer is appalling, but even he can attest that sometimes, the greatest inspiration can be found in one's enemies. After all, his uncles had argued as such their entire careers, honing their skills in defeating aberrations and monstrosities by studying them; they would learn of their foes' strengths and often turn said strengths against them rather than merely exploit weaknesses. It was an intelligent approach, one that made they truly the best at their craft.
Carlisle has never been able to master such maneuvers, and as clergy rather than a hunter, hadn't been all that interested in doing so before. Times change... as has he. He now has a reason to fight, to live. He has so much more to lose now.
So as galling as Glacius' explanation may be at first, Carlisle listens intently without a word, his trust that his partner has in mind what is best for both of them stronger than any apprehension that Glacius would lead him down a road of dark magic and accursed constructs for selfish reasons, however similar to necromancy it may be.]
I do, Glacius, truly, but—
[He has one question, and it is paramount.]
Using a portion of your own essence to replace mine... it would diminish your own life. And what if this maw within me proves insatiable?
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Your understanding of this is correct. [And he's a little surprised by that given Carlise's stubborn opposition to all things that could be considered dark magic, though perhaps he shouldn't be; he is well-versed in matters concerning the soul, after all.] But this is one fear that I can allay with absolute certainty. My life force is strong; I have another century before me, perhaps more, and very little desire to endure such a long time without you by my side. In other words... I have many, many years to give you, and I will give them gladly. Even if this maw consumes them and we both go together... that is better than both of us departing painfully and sorrowfully at separate times.
[Glacius holds Carlisle's gaze; his green eyes glow with sadness to consider their end, but also utmost sincerity. After a moment he smiles, seemingly at peace.] I doubt it will come to that, but no matter what happens... is it not better to walk a path hand in hand? "Together, in all things", as we have always proclaimed. My mind is made up, Carlisle. Now you must make yours.
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And as someone who has felt undeserving of such devotion, who has spent most of his life doubting his own worth to his goddess, his bloodline, and the world around him, Carlisle is so moved that he cannot help but stare at his partner, uncertainty and awe abound in his every feature. His lips part, teeth bared as he struggles to find his voice amidst his confusion.]
I... [He swallows, fingers tightening on Glacius' hand. He pushes his glasses aside, pawing at his eyes.] It was not by my hand that I was cursed. It was never my decision to be born into a lineage I could not uphold. I thought that, perhaps, my only true choice in this existence was whether I continued to live so that I could make my amends, or took my own life and left this plane with one less blight upon it. And yet, when I discovered what would become of me upon death, I realized I had no choice in that matter, either. I could not leave you in heartbreak, alone to fight an unnatural being of my own creation.
Not that I want to face my end, of course. I... I have so much more than I ever did. More than I ever truly imagined possible for myself. And I would do anything to keep it -- to keep you.
[He sighs, shaking his head.] However, I thought that, as in most things, I had no true agency. What time I was allotted with you was to be measured in finite years, if that long. I would eventually succumb to this condition or the madness it brings, and there would be nothing I could do about it. I have felt it clawing its way up, poisoning my mind more and more as the days pass. I sometimes awaken, but cannot tell if I am still dreaming...
[His eyes return to Glacius, tears welling within them, shining like stars in their glow.]
I am admittedly frightened. Terrified of the prospect, no matter how much I have ultimately accepted it. I made plans should the worst happen, wrote out a will. But in the back of my mind, I assumed that even if you did find a solution, you would take it upon yourself to see it through, no matter what the danger, and no matter what I thought. It is... an admirable quality, but one where I am left with no hand in my existence all the same. I would trust nearly any decision you made on my behalf, even if I did not approve of the methods.
[Glacius knows well of the arguments he's had with Kate along similar veins; however, he actually trusts Glacius to respect his wishes. He cannot say the same for her.
He lets his hand trail to the side of Glacius' face, to the familiar hollow of his ruined mandible.]
But you are giving me agency here. A choice in this. That means- that means more to me that I can truly express. And as scared as I may be that this will fail, or that my goddess will disapprove, or that this adaptation of technology and dark magic will somehow destroy us both... I find the outcome otherwise to be a worse fate for both of us. Rather than be parted by this, I would face it together, with you.
[He leans forward just a bit, offering up his forehead in their personal sign of affection.]
Together, in all things, be it life, death, or somewhere between.
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So the ice alien listens patiently as his partner tells his story and expresses just how trapped he has always felt in his life. Glacius has heard it, knows it...but not with this ending. An ending of agency, and out of that is born trust and courage, the courage he knew that Carlisle had deep within him. he cannot help but smile as he feels his hearts tremble with love and utter relief.] Trust me, I was wary of the nature of this construct, this... Siphon as well. But that is why I took the utmost of care with its construction, whittled away certain aspects of its design, and... well. One must walk in the dark before they can see the sun rise once more. Beyond that, just... thank you Carlisle, for the fact that when given a choice you chose me—no, us. I know that there were, ah... a lot of different ways this could have gone. [The ice alien can't help but let some of his nervous energy blow out of him in a little chuckle. Then, he closes his eyes and leans the ruined side of his face into his partner's carress, quietly considering all that brought them together, finally to this point.
Though he feels at peace now that they have a chance, a real shot at giving Carlisle a future, he can't hold himself back forever. Eventually his green eyes open again, and his cheekbones pull up into a smile.] Would you, ah... would you like to try it out now? I do not want to rush you, but... you have been enduring this for so long... and I have long awaited the realization of one of my many promises to you.
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But the icy warrior doesn't want to merely move on once Carlisle dies, no more than the clergyman wants to leave him to deal with the heartache of loss. He knows intimately that kind of horrible solitude, having struggled with it for years after his uncles disappeared, and would never wish it upon anyone, certainly not his partner. Yet, as much potential as it sounds like this idea of Glacius' has, Carlisle cannot help the trepidation that lingers in his gut. They cannot put this off any longer, lest the fragments of his soul drift further and they lose one another forever.]
Of all the times and all the worlds, all existences and iterations of people that could be spirited to this place and others like it, we were brought together. [He grins as the slightest chuckle escapes him.] Twice, even. Perhaps it is serendipitous circumstance... or perhaps I am meant to be beside you. Either it works, and we remain... or it fails, and we likely destroy our souls in the process, damning us both. But if I am damned, I would rather be damned with you than for either of us to be left in this existence alone, never knowing if we will ever cross paths again.
[He presses his forehead to his partner's in their realization of a kiss.]
Let us see this through, here and now.
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Now is the time to follow them, then; no matter where they lead, it will be better than letting Carlisle face an eternity in that nightmarish land he's been lost to in his dreams. The ice alien nods when his partner agrees to go through with it, pulling the metal rings away from his chest. Holding it carefully, he uses one sturdy finger to gradually turn the innermost ring until it is perpendicular to the outer one; once that is done he closes his eyes and allows his Mote to manifest not in his palm, but in the space within that innermost ring. Eyes still closed, Glacius' brows furrow as he concentrates even harder, pouring more of himself into this artifact—to the point that a crystallized sphere of ice begins to form within that same ring, completely encasing the Mote.
Drawing a short gasp as his green eyes open, the ice alien takes a moment to regard the Siphon. It looks as he expected it to, if not more pure than what Kan-Ra had attempted to use against him. The framing rings of the sorcerer's make were rough black metal pulled from scorched pieces of the alien's ship; now they are the silvered steel of his pristine power cell. A chunk of strange crystal has been replaced with the sharp rays of his mote, and smooth, glimmering ice has been substitued for faceted glass that ones held it. It is now a thing of his own make... benevolent, ready to give, not dark and hungry.
He extends it towards Carlisle, holding it between them. A spark of apprehension hits him, as he has no idea what to expect from this deep of a transferrance, but he refuses to let fear win out now.] When you are ready, place your hands upon it and lace your fingers with mine. Then... well, I do not know exactly how it will go. But we must both focus on mending your soul with new life. I suspect this construct will do the rest.
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He feels his mind wandering, thoughts drifting away as he tries to recall, only to delve so deeply into his memories that they become like a dense fog, swallowing him; he is brought back as Glacius addresses him again, life flickering back into his eyes as they affix themselves on his partner before him. Glacius' apprehension is matched by his own, but Carlisle cannot allow himself to falter now, not when his partner has worked so hard on a solution, and not when he has lost his grip on himself now three times today. It is getting worse, and they are out of time.
Carlisle steels himself as instructed, placing his hands upon Glacius' own, letting their fingers entwine. The Mote thrums within the Siphon, and Carlisle instinctively channels into it, allowing it to flow within his own aural canals—
And the construct, as Glacius suspected, does do the rest. As their energies connect through the Mote and Siphon simultaneously, the device comes to life, its silver frame resonating in tandem with the Mote. Carved lines along the Siphon's sides illuminate on one ring, then the other, then into the pair's hands; Carlisle feels his veins ignite with white-hot fire, the sensation cutting through the numbness of his limbs so sharply that he's sure they will shatter from the impact. His eyes, so bright already with the Mote's energies, are suddenly blazing, and he can see the room lit by them before the light blinds him completely.
Carlisle's body, so fragile and so emptied of his own essence, is an undeniably draining vessel to fill. The process seems to last for hours, for days -- he loses all sense of time amongst the agony, so sure it is never-ending. The cacophony of energy he hears is not just from the hum of the device, but ringing from within him, reverberating and echoing on both physical and metaphysical planes. His head feels as though it will explode, and he nearly lets go; however, it is Glacius' grip that keeps him there, their threaded fingers stitching them together, grounding him. There's a loud crack from the ice enveloping the Mote, then another, and a third as it fractures fully.
And finally, the hum dies down, as does the glow of Carlisle's eyes as the fumes of aural overload rise from them, steaming with energy. He remains motionless save for a tremor that runs through his spine, the entire room settling around them, falling into an unearthly silence. The stillness is broken by a gasp that pries its way from the clergyman's chest.]
Gla...
[His utterance goes unfinished as he goes completely slack, his body falling forward onto his partner and the Siphon. For a moment, it might seem as though it didn't work, the Siphon having drained the two of them and producing no results; however, Carlisle's chest rises and falls with the breaths of the living rather than the dry rattles of a Revenant, and among the colorless strands of his hair, there is a single strand of vivid, cinnamon hair.]
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At that point he does not feel much of anything at all; while the process seems to take days for Carlisle, it is over in the blink of an eye for Glacius—similar to coming around after being put under general anesthetic for an operation. He does feel a similar sense of grogginess and disorientation as well. It is not pleasant, but the alien had expected having his life force drained from him to be much more... excruciating, debiliating. Now that he thinks about it, perhaps the earliest uses of the Siphon will be the easiest, as his soul is still so strong and vigorous. It is likely that these sessions of transference will become harder and harder on him the less he has to give... which seems to be the exact opposite of what his partner is going through, if the way he has collapsed afterwards is any indication.
This unresponsiveness would normally because for great alarm if they were not metaphysically entwined. As it is, Glacius can feel not a lack of strength or spirit in his partner, but the embers of new life steadily burning away within his partner. This is nothing like the aural exsiccation Carlisle suffered months ago, when he passed out for days after spending too much of himself mending his partner's wounds; his body is simply taking the rest it so sorely needs, now that it has strength to draw on for recovery.
In other words, it seems as though their gambit worked, and Glacius cannot describe the relief he feels at that inkling. He pulls both of their hands away and returns the Siphon to its resting state, then brings his partner to his bed to rest as he has many times. The difference now is that it isn't due to terrible injury or exhaustion; that awful, heartbreaking cycle has finally been broken. This time, the ice alien can content himself to feeling that ember of life gradually start to burn brighter and stronger the longer Carlisle rests. This time, he knows his partner is coming back.]
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The moment he is aware enough to realize he's alive, Carlisle awakens, sitting up as he buries his face in his hands, his head throbbing painfully. His stomach aches -- hunger -- and his head pounds -- thirst, likely -- but he is very much alive. He can feel the thrum of the Mote within him, resonating in tandem with his heartbeat; there is sharp pain in his forearms from where the energy seared his scars, making his fingers curl; against his feet, he can feel the softness of the sheets in a way he hasn't noticed before. It has been so long since he's had such acute sensation, months now as he's wandered through each day like the near-corpse he is destined to be. It all feels so... heightened. Incredible. Invigorating, like when he and Glacius are together, their energies cycling and colliding throughout—
GLACIUS
He pulls himself from the bed, his limbs unsteady; as he leans into the nightstand for support, he fumbles for his glasses, unable to find them. Have his pajamas always been this soft? And the floor so hard? A laugh trickles out of him as he seems -- feels -- the world anew. He doesn't want to experience such wonders alone, though -- he needs his partner. Glacius... is all right, isn't he? He didn't suffer from the device draining his life away, did he? He insisted he wouldn't, and Carlisle believed him.
The clergyman's euphoria dissipates in an instant as his natural inclination for worry takes over. Alive and renewed as he may be, he is ultimately still Carlisle Longinmouth, a man of many concerns. The Mote hums within his chest, more concentrated than before -- and he finds comfort in that, in knowing his partner must be okay. He even... feels closer somehow. More connected than he once was to both his partner and the Mote.
He can ponder the lasting effects of this Siphoning later, Carlisle decides.]
Glacius?
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Glacius is already moving when his partner calls for him, setting aside plates and dishes and moving from the kitchen. By the time that second, gentler inquiry comes through he's already coming through the door... but he finds himself stopped up short by the sight that awaits despite himself. He's been aware of the color and vibrancy gradually seeping back into Carlisle's body as he slept, but to see the young cleric standing there now, healthy and whole... it brings him more joy than he can ever express, but the way his cheekbones lift high enough to push crinkles around his eyes in a warm and loving smile surely speaks volumes.]
Welcome back to the land of the living, my Bondmate. [Glacius purrs, clearly taking in the fruits of all their hardwork. The human's skin has a warm tone to it rather than the unsettling cold pallor that made him look more like a ghost, he can see blue in his eyes again, and... on top of his head sits not old grey hair, but vibrant cinnamon strands, still mussed from his long time asleep. Delighted surprise strikes the ice alien's face—he had not expected such striking color, but come to think of it, he does now remember such a thing from an old portrait Carlisle once showed him.] Are you feeling well? You do, ah, certainly look well. Perhaps you should find a mirror.
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Glacius seems so optimistic about it, his adoration abundant as he purrs. Carlisle places a hand along Glacius' chest, his partner's cold armor a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of his tone.]
A mirror? Why would...
[And that's when he catches sight of his own hand, its color vivid -- healthy in a way it hasn't been in years, well over a decade. Though there is still the residue of ink under his nails and the seared scars of aural overload lining his wrists, the hue of his own skin has him in awe. His gaze flicks to Glacius before he takes off to the bathroom and the suggested mirror.
From down the hallway, Glacius might hear a chuckle... then another and another as they bubble in Carlisle's chest, making their way out of him; it's the laughter of uncertainty, but also raw disbelief. He's seen the old portrait of himself with its unfamiliar smile and depiction of his younger years; however, to see himself so restored, here and now, moves the clergyman to tears. His eyes grow bleary as he runs his hand over his reddened hair, his fingers sensitive enough to feel the individual strands.
Though not entirely as he was before -- his eyes still glow with the light of the Mote, and there will always be those bags under his eyes -- Carlisle cannot help but marvel at his new form as he murmurs to himself.]
I... I had forgotten what color my hair was. Who I might be were I not cursed. I- I can't believe it.
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To be honest, I had forgotten as well—I was shocked until I remembered that old portrait you showed me. The results of our soul-sharing are... greater than even I had expected, and it brings me endless joy to see as much.
[The ice alien exhales in a happy sigh, putting his hand on Carlisle's shoulder... but then, unable to resist, he drifts it up his partner's neck to his head, where he tousles those reddish-orange strands.] But we should be clear about one thing: you have always been the same person, curse or no. Now, you simply look it once again. I hope you feel it too, I know... I know that things got very discouraging for awhile, there.
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Discouraging, indeed. I had expected to feel better, if anything at all, but this! I never thought this possible -- any of this. And while I cannot say that I don't have... certain concerns regarding how this will work in what are hopefully years to come, I will save those for another day. Right now, I- I want to revel in this. I want to revel in us and cherish you in a way I could not before.
[He turns to face his partner, his eyes aglow, tears still brimming in them as he places his hand along Glacius' scar, guiding him so that their foreheads may meet. Unfortunately, as ready as he is to enjoy this newfound vivacity, his body isn't quite as ready as a loud grumble roars from his middle.
Carlisle reddens, thoroughly mortified.]
How... long have I been out?
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Even this, however, the ice alien finds charming. It is a strange and funny thing, how much lighter everything seems now that Carlisle's future is secured.] Ah, your face matches your hair now. [He cannot help but tease gently, giving Carlisle a fondly teasing smile before he pulls his head up and away entirely, leaving the cleric to take that for the moment. For his part, the ice alien starts walking towards the kitchen, waving for the human to follow him.] A couple of days, so it is no wonder you are hungry. Lucky for you, I was working on that while you slept. Come.
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I'm sorry you were left to worry for so long, my partner. And alone! How much you have had to bear on my behalf...
[He keeps a hand along the wall for balance, his legs unsteady as he adjusts to being able to feel them again. He's been losing sensation in his limbs month by month -- and since the incident with the cliff, day by day. It has been some time since he had full use of his faculties, not having to fight the exhaustion and the stiffness that comes with both his affliction and his craft.
He's sure both of those will return later. Lively as he may be now, the maw within him still feeds. How long until they must use the constructed artifact again? Will the aural tear within him ever be filled, or will it continue to drain them both with every use?
His stomach growls again, drawing his mind from the fears gnawing at the back of his mind, and he continues into the kitchen.]
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[The ice alien starts to walk again, but the second growl from his partner's stomach draw his attention. Swiveling his head to cast a glance over his shoulder, Glacius realizes that Carlisle is having to hold himself up as he moves, and falls back to be that support, offering his arm or the crook of his elbow—whatever is easiest. Despite how much healthier the clergyman looks, it is hard for the otherworldly being to not feel worry; after what they just went through, he'll probably still be on red alert for any signs of decline.] ... Are you alright? You seem a bit rickety, still.
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[When he says things like that, it's no wonder he had trouble discerning reality from nightmares. It's not that he doesn't want to continue to hold onto them as being the only thing that is truly real, of course -- that fact has grounded him for so long, held him to this world when even his own willpower could not. As with many joys he has found in his brief, but tragic existence, he is reluctant to let it go. However, there is comfort in the fact that Glacius undeniably feels the same.
And so he's happy to lean on his partner for support, his fingers tracing Glacius' forearm.] What's more is that I can feel you now. I- I could before, but it's stronger in some way. This bond between us -- I suppose it is because there is more to be bonded with... and what makes up me is also your own. Does that make sense? We are- we are more intertwined than we have ever been.
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[This the alien assures his partner as he helps him get a grip on his arm, and then starts them both walking again. Thankfully the couch in the den is not far!] And yes, that does make sense... but what of me you have taken is now your own. Try not to think of it as some outside force pulling you along, some... other. It is your strength now. In time you will get used to calling on it again.
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I know I should be more concerned with the extended ramifications of this venture, but- but it's so strange now. I am a foreigner in my own skin. How novel it is to feel so alive when waking, something I have only felt recently when... er.
[He reddens just a pinch, knowing Glacius will understand. There were times when Carlisle would crave intimacy, desperate not only to be close with his partner, but also for the cycle of energy through himself, Glacius, and the Mote. The current was powerful enough to force the numbness from his limbs and the chill from his body; however, such a reprieve was temporary. It may be now, as well, but with his frame no longer an emptied, cavernous vessel, perhaps the effect will be even longer lasting. Perhaps even more euphoric than before, he considers.
And that thought makes him burn even worse, as does his impatience to find out. He will sooner accept this new life of his than he will his own appetence.]
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[And it truly speaks to Glacius' devotion, that he is able to talk about such a sacrifice so easily and simply. When most couples talk about giving all that they are for each other, they do not mean it so literally. Beyond possessions or a place to call home or emotional support—though he offers all of that as well—the alien has pledged the deep well of his very essence to his partner. His life is one lived in service now... and he only seems happier for it, given that it means he gets to keep his partner around.]
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But Glacius doesn't seem bothered by this, and it speaks volumes of what his opinion is in the matter. He's absolutely right: they have years together now, surely more than he would have ever been afforded naturally. They are years the two of them will spend with one another, experiencing a life they could not have seen otherwise: one where Glacius keeps his partner, and one where Carlisle is alive. Moreover, Glacius chose this -- he chose to gift Carlisle his Mote, chose to build this Siphon, chose to surrender his energies bit by bit so that Carlisle could sustain himself on them. He may become a Revenant later, but for now, he exists as some kind of... aural vampire.
As much as Carlisle dislikes the comparison to any undead, figurative or not, he cannot help but be truly touched by his partner's dedication. Those years Glacius is giving up are ones he could have spent serving his people, making his mark upon the worlds with his life beyond his coupling with a mere human. And yet, when given a choice, agency in this awful place where it is so often stripped from them, he chose Carlisle.
The clergyman reddens again, but no longer from embarrassment as he fights back more tears in his eyes. One hand paws at them while the other seeks the comfort of his partner's touch, resting upon his broad, icy chest as they stop before the couch.]
What is it I have done with my life that has made me deserving of such a wonderful partner? Of someone as devoted to me as one may be to his goddess, or to his own people... or more?
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Glacius reaches out to ruffle those cinnamon locks, still mussy from long sleep, in a fond and reassuring way.] We have talked about this before, have we not? You have been a better friend and now partner than I could have ever hoped for; all the times I have needed you most, you have been right at my side. It is only fair that I return the favor—that I give you what you need, same as you have done for me.
[The otherworldly being pauses, then gives Carlisle one more pat before starting to walk them towards the den once more.] And that includes not letting you topple over due to malnourishment. Come, sit, and I will bring you some food and drink. Is there anything you want in particular?
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