Atticus walks over, covered in blood. "Your mom's doing pretty well. I'm happy to see that the treatment took."
He looks up to them, absolutely confused and just a little terrified “M-my… mom?” He doesn’t know what to do or say or anything.
"The sunflower. I can't claim to know anything about your late father's later wife. I cured its hunger curse. It looks like someone had been feeding it a lot of energy, making its condition worse. Been studying the curse for a while now. Added it to my junk drawer, AKA the Uzumaki Scrapple." He pulls out an angry, pulsating black orb. "All sorts of evil lives in here. Wanna see?"
He shakes his head, “I don’t want to see… if that’s okay… I just am happy they are doing good again… but… but does Helianth want to be… my mom?” He seems really strung up at that part, as children often are with things about parents.
It quickly finds the notes it was looking for- arcane sigils similar in design to the one's in Tim's own spellbook- and follows the instructions on the pages. A few minutes later, a tiny portion of its amassed energy has coalesced into its hand, which gleams from within with a brilliant light. It retrieves Rend's Cleaver from its tangled stem, and with one swift motion, cuts its wrist. Condensed divine ichor flows into a produced vial in a third hand, flowing like liquid light from the wound and into the container. The wound quickly heals afterwards.
He tries to identify the runes despite being confused and concerned at why they injured themselves, even more so now that they are healed and holding the vial, his eyes ask all the questions his face doesn’t.
One of its flower heads turns to face him. "Radiance." It starts, gesturing to the vial. "Pure, distilled radiance. Collected from divine power and the cores of stars, coalesced into a mixture of pure light and pure power." It gently takes one of his hands, placing the vial in his palm and carefully curling his fingers around it. "If you want it, it's yours. You could be a god again. You gave me your power, after all- I thought it only fair I return the favor."
He looks down at the vial before looking back up to them, he puts his book down on the table, shaking his head a little “I… don’t know if I want to be a god again… it’s so… scary and dangerous and I have so many responsibilities… I gave you my power to help me… you don’t have to give it back… you deserve it more than I do.”
It thinks for a moment. "...You don't have to be a god, then. Only a portion of the vial, and you could be an angel or demigod, then. Similar capabilities, less divine responsibility. It's also only partially made up of your power- I'm mostly giving you a piece of my own strength... if you truly don't want this, though... I won't force you."
They think about it, staring into the swirling power within the bottle. He pops the cork open and drinks a little bit, not enough to reembace godhood, not yet at least, but enough to be connected closer to Helianth in terms of power and to be just closer to them as a whole, hoping this isn’t a mistake.
He shakes his head. "I mean like, what general category of tasks? Spellcasting? A craft? I suggest one to three tasks." He speaks softly, a calm lecture. His one eye softens slightly.
"Oh, I get it. In that case... Spellcasting. I think I'll start with just that one for now." She responds, childlike curiosity in her remaining eyes.
He smiles warmly. "That's a good idea. Don't wanna overwhelm you too quickly." He flips to a section of his book where it discusses such symbols in baking pies and mixing sauces. "Carve these into the bones. Whichever ones you need. If you need help, don't be afraid to ask." He draws a paring knife made of adamantine and offers it to her. "And be careful. It can cut diamonds cleanly in half, it will take some fingers off if you aren't careful." He prepares Life Transference.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"The sunflower. I can't claim to know anything about your late father's later wife. I cured its hunger curse. It looks like someone had been feeding it a lot of energy, making its condition worse. Been studying the curse for a while now. Added it to my junk drawer, AKA the Uzumaki Scrapple." He pulls out an angry, pulsating black orb. "All sorts of evil lives in here. Wanna see?"
He shakes his head, “I don’t want to see… if that’s okay… I just am happy they are doing good again… but… but does Helianth want to be… my mom?” He seems really strung up at that part, as children often are with things about parents.
"I mean, that's what it told me. Well, maybe not 'mom,' but parent. You're a cute kid, so I can see why." He puts the ball back in his pocket.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"The sunflower. I can't claim to know anything about your late father's later wife. I cured its hunger curse. It looks like someone had been feeding it a lot of energy, making its condition worse. Been studying the curse for a while now. Added it to my junk drawer, AKA the Uzumaki Scrapple." He pulls out an angry, pulsating black orb. "All sorts of evil lives in here. Wanna see?"
He shakes his head, “I don’t want to see… if that’s okay… I just am happy they are doing good again… but… but does Helianth want to be… my mom?” He seems really strung up at that part, as children often are with things about parents.
"I mean, that's what it told me. Well, maybe not 'mom,' but parent. You're a cute kid, so I can see why." He puts the ball back in his pocket.
“T-thank you, I think I just wanted to be a good kid… who are you? I’m Tim… I don’t think we’ve met before.”
It thinks for a moment. "...You don't have to be a god, then. Only a portion of the vial, and you could be an angel or demigod, then. Similar capabilities, less divine responsibility. It's also only partially made up of your power- I'm mostly giving you a piece of my own strength... if you truly don't want this, though... I won't force you."
They think about it, staring into the swirling power within the bottle. He pops the cork open and drinks a little bit, not enough to reembace godhood, not yet at least, but enough to be connected closer to Helianth in terms of power and to be just closer to them as a whole, hoping this isn’t a mistake.
The moment the first drop of pure divine power touches his tongue, time seems to slow down for him. The experience only lasts a few seconds, if even that, but to him it feels like a much longer stretch of time- enough where he might assume that hours have gone by... And every single perceived instant of it is pure AGONY.
He feels as though he has been hurled into the blazing core of a raging star, a burning pain shooting through every neuron in his body that is beyond description. His senses distort into new and frightening experiences. Sight is a kaleidoscopic fire. Hearing, a deafening throb. Smell and taste open entire new worlds of terror. But the worst of them all is certainly touch- a writhing, pulsing sensation throughout every molecule of his being, as if something has taken root within his very soul and is growing a writhing briar of thorns through his flesh and under his skin. The one thing that does anything to counteract this brief-yet-lingering suffering is a growing strength within his being- a pure, concentrated power that has caught ablaze, and the fire is spreading. It is like the sensation of power he felt from the star he consumed, but distinctly different- distinctly aberrant.
After it all stops, his senses returning to him as the pain subsides but the strength does not, he feels... odd. His once-human body has thorny brambles of woven flesh and metal and plant matter wreathed around it, the briar burrowing into and out of his skin in different places, but strangely it doesn't hurt as much as it looks like it would. He is not a god, but something reminiscent of one. The word 'angel' comes to mind, though that may not be an apt description. The crooked devourer of light still stands before him, looking equal parts concerned and proud.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
He shakes his head. "I mean like, what general category of tasks? Spellcasting? A craft? I suggest one to three tasks." He speaks softly, a calm lecture. His one eye softens slightly.
"Oh, I get it. In that case... Spellcasting. I think I'll start with just that one for now." She responds, childlike curiosity in her remaining eyes.
He smiles warmly. "That's a good idea. Don't wanna overwhelm you too quickly." He flips to a section of his book where it discusses such symbols in baking pies and mixing sauces. "Carve these into the bones. Whichever ones you need. If you need help, don't be afraid to ask." He draws a paring knife made of adamantine and offers it to her. "And be careful. It can cut diamonds cleanly in half, it will take some fingers off if you aren't careful." He prepares Life Transference.
She carefully takes the knife. "Thank you- for helping with all of this, I mean." She responds, delicately carving the sigils into whichever bones from her collection work best with a careful precision- it doesn't seem that this is the first time she's used a knife to carve something.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
It thinks for a moment. "...You don't have to be a god, then. Only a portion of the vial, and you could be an angel or demigod, then. Similar capabilities, less divine responsibility. It's also only partially made up of your power- I'm mostly giving you a piece of my own strength... if you truly don't want this, though... I won't force you."
They think about it, staring into the swirling power within the bottle. He pops the cork open and drinks a little bit, not enough to reembace godhood, not yet at least, but enough to be connected closer to Helianth in terms of power and to be just closer to them as a whole, hoping this isn’t a mistake.
The moment the first drop of pure divine power touches his tongue, time seems to slow down for him. The experience only lasts a few seconds, if even that, but to him it feels like a much longer stretch of time- enough where he might assume that hours have gone by... And every single perceived instant of it is pure AGONY.
He feels as though he has been hurled into the blazing core of a raging star, a burning pain shooting through every neuron in his body that is beyond description. His senses distort into new and frightening experiences. Sight is a kaleidoscopic fire. Hearing, a deafening throb. Smell and taste open entire new worlds of terror. But the worst of them all is certainly touch- a writhing, pulsing sensation throughout every molecule of his being, as if something has taken root within his very soul and is growing a writhing briar of thorns through his flesh and under his skin. The one thing that does anything to counteract this brief-yet-lingering suffering is a growing strength within his being- a pure, concentrated power that has caught ablaze, and the fire is spreading. It is like the sensation of power he felt from the star he consumed, but distinctly different- distinctly aberrant.
After it all stops, his senses returning to him as the pain subsides but the strength does not, he feels... odd. His once-human body has thorny brambles of woven flesh and metal and plant matter wreathed around it, the briar burrowing into and out of his skin in different places, but strangely it doesn't hurt as much as it looks like it would. He is not a god, but something reminiscent of one. The word 'angel' comes to mind, though that may not be an apt description. The crooked devourer of light still stands before him, looking equal parts concerned and proud.
He doesn’t do anything for a very long time, before looking up to Helianth, he tries to speak but no words come out, and with all the overwhelming paint he felt, he just… collapses to the ground, as akin to when he take Helianth his power before.
It thinks for a moment. "...You don't have to be a god, then. Only a portion of the vial, and you could be an angel or demigod, then. Similar capabilities, less divine responsibility. It's also only partially made up of your power- I'm mostly giving you a piece of my own strength... if you truly don't want this, though... I won't force you."
They think about it, staring into the swirling power within the bottle. He pops the cork open and drinks a little bit, not enough to reembace godhood, not yet at least, but enough to be connected closer to Helianth in terms of power and to be just closer to them as a whole, hoping this isn’t a mistake.
The moment the first drop of pure divine power touches his tongue, time seems to slow down for him. The experience only lasts a few seconds, if even that, but to him it feels like a much longer stretch of time- enough where he might assume that hours have gone by... And every single perceived instant of it is pure AGONY.
He feels as though he has been hurled into the blazing core of a raging star, a burning pain shooting through every neuron in his body that is beyond description. His senses distort into new and frightening experiences. Sight is a kaleidoscopic fire. Hearing, a deafening throb. Smell and taste open entire new worlds of terror. But the worst of them all is certainly touch- a writhing, pulsing sensation throughout every molecule of his being, as if something has taken root within his very soul and is growing a writhing briar of thorns through his flesh and under his skin. The one thing that does anything to counteract this brief-yet-lingering suffering is a growing strength within his being- a pure, concentrated power that has caught ablaze, and the fire is spreading. It is like the sensation of power he felt from the star he consumed, but distinctly different- distinctly aberrant.
After it all stops, his senses returning to him as the pain subsides but the strength does not, he feels... odd. His once-human body has thorny brambles of woven flesh and metal and plant matter wreathed around it, the briar burrowing into and out of his skin in different places, but strangely it doesn't hurt as much as it looks like it would. He is not a god, but something reminiscent of one. The word 'angel' comes to mind, though that may not be an apt description. The crooked devourer of light still stands before him, looking equal parts concerned and proud.
He doesn’t do anything for a very long time, before looking up to Helianth, he tries to speak but no words come out, and with all the overwhelming pain he felt, he just… collapses to the ground, as akin to when he take Helianth his power before.
It catches him before he falls to the ground, getting him to a place where he can rest somewhat comfortably, placing him on that same couch-like structure it left him when he last collapsed due to a sudden transference of divine energy. It leaves him there to wake up, and while it waits to make sure he's okay, it looks through its notes some more. It could easily gift similar amounts of power to multiple others if it wanted to... but the difficulty lies in finding good candidates...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
It thinks for a moment. "...You don't have to be a god, then. Only a portion of the vial, and you could be an angel or demigod, then. Similar capabilities, less divine responsibility. It's also only partially made up of your power- I'm mostly giving you a piece of my own strength... if you truly don't want this, though... I won't force you."
They think about it, staring into the swirling power within the bottle. He pops the cork open and drinks a little bit, not enough to reembace godhood, not yet at least, but enough to be connected closer to Helianth in terms of power and to be just closer to them as a whole, hoping this isn’t a mistake.
The moment the first drop of pure divine power touches his tongue, time seems to slow down for him. The experience only lasts a few seconds, if even that, but to him it feels like a much longer stretch of time- enough where he might assume that hours have gone by... And every single perceived instant of it is pure AGONY.
He feels as though he has been hurled into the blazing core of a raging star, a burning pain shooting through every neuron in his body that is beyond description. His senses distort into new and frightening experiences. Sight is a kaleidoscopic fire. Hearing, a deafening throb. Smell and taste open entire new worlds of terror. But the worst of them all is certainly touch- a writhing, pulsing sensation throughout every molecule of his being, as if something has taken root within his very soul and is growing a writhing briar of thorns through his flesh and under his skin. The one thing that does anything to counteract this brief-yet-lingering suffering is a growing strength within his being- a pure, concentrated power that has caught ablaze, and the fire is spreading. It is like the sensation of power he felt from the star he consumed, but distinctly different- distinctly aberrant.
After it all stops, his senses returning to him as the pain subsides but the strength does not, he feels... odd. His once-human body has thorny brambles of woven flesh and metal and plant matter wreathed around it, the briar burrowing into and out of his skin in different places, but strangely it doesn't hurt as much as it looks like it would. He is not a god, but something reminiscent of one. The word 'angel' comes to mind, though that may not be an apt description. The crooked devourer of light still stands before him, looking equal parts concerned and proud.
He doesn’t do anything for a very long time, before looking up to Helianth, he tries to speak but no words come out, and with all the overwhelming pain he felt, he just… collapses to the ground, as akin to when he take Helianth his power before.
It catches him before he falls to the ground, getting him to a place where he can rest somewhat comfortably, placing him on that same couch-like structure it left him when he last collapsed due to a sudden transference of divine energy. It leaves him there to wake up, and while it waits to make sure he's okay, it looks through its notes some more. It could easily gift similar amounts of power to multiple others if it wanted to... but the difficulty lies in finding good candidates...
*Good place to end for a simple rp and transfer of power? I don’t know what to do with Tim though, I’ll sleep on it.*
He shakes his head, “I don’t want to see… if that’s okay… I just am happy they are doing good again… but… but does Helianth want to be… my mom?” He seems really strung up at that part, as children often are with things about parents.
They think about it, staring into the swirling power within the bottle. He pops the cork open and drinks a little bit, not enough to reembace godhood, not yet at least, but enough to be connected closer to Helianth in terms of power and to be just closer to them as a whole, hoping this isn’t a mistake.
He smiles warmly. "That's a good idea. Don't wanna overwhelm you too quickly." He flips to a section of his book where it discusses such symbols in baking pies and mixing sauces. "Carve these into the bones. Whichever ones you need. If you need help, don't be afraid to ask." He draws a paring knife made of adamantine and offers it to her. "And be careful. It can cut diamonds cleanly in half, it will take some fingers off if you aren't careful." He prepares Life Transference.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
She sighs and nods, enjoying the moment with them.
She enjoys the sound, and the feeling before eventually pulling away.
She walks over to be closest to them, and gives them a kiss, “Thank you…”
"I mean, that's what it told me. Well, maybe not 'mom,' but parent. You're a cute kid, so I can see why." He puts the ball back in his pocket.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
“T-thank you, I think I just wanted to be a good kid… who are you? I’m Tim… I don’t think we’ve met before.”
The moment the first drop of pure divine power touches his tongue, time seems to slow down for him. The experience only lasts a few seconds, if even that, but to him it feels like a much longer stretch of time- enough where he might assume that hours have gone by...
And every single perceived instant of it is pure AGONY.
He feels as though he has been hurled into the blazing core of a raging star, a burning pain shooting through every neuron in his body that is beyond description. His senses distort into new and frightening experiences. Sight is a kaleidoscopic fire. Hearing, a deafening throb. Smell and taste open entire new worlds of terror. But the worst of them all is certainly touch- a writhing, pulsing sensation throughout every molecule of his being, as if something has taken root within his very soul and is growing a writhing briar of thorns through his flesh and under his skin. The one thing that does anything to counteract this brief-yet-lingering suffering is a growing strength within his being- a pure, concentrated power that has caught ablaze, and the fire is spreading. It is like the sensation of power he felt from the star he consumed, but distinctly different- distinctly aberrant.
After it all stops, his senses returning to him as the pain subsides but the strength does not, he feels... odd. His once-human body has thorny brambles of woven flesh and metal and plant matter wreathed around it, the briar burrowing into and out of his skin in different places, but strangely it doesn't hurt as much as it looks like it would. He is not a god, but something reminiscent of one. The word 'angel' comes to mind, though that may not be an apt description. The crooked devourer of light still stands before him, looking equal parts concerned and proud.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
She carefully takes the knife. "Thank you- for helping with all of this, I mean." She responds, delicately carving the sigils into whichever bones from her collection work best with a careful precision- it doesn't seem that this is the first time she's used a knife to carve something.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
She smiles back down at them, “Do you want anything else?”
She wraps her arms back around their neck, “Yer welcome.”
She notices the difference and wraps her arms as much around them as she can, “Love you too.”
He doesn’t do anything for a very long time, before looking up to Helianth, he tries to speak but no words come out, and with all the overwhelming paint he felt, he just… collapses to the ground, as akin to when he take Helianth his power before.
She takes the gold and pours them both a beer, coming back, “Here you go, love?”
She notices but doesn’t comment, closing her eyes.
“You are so kind, I wish I could be better so you don’t have to lean down for me.”
*Cut for Salem.*
She smiles at them, sitting back down, “Do you want a seat?” She asks, drinking.
She lets them, watching them, “Do you want to see any more of them?”
“I do… just a little bit, but you are so nice.” She goes back into the bed “Want to do anything today?”
It catches him before he falls to the ground, getting him to a place where he can rest somewhat comfortably, placing him on that same couch-like structure it left him when he last collapsed due to a sudden transference of divine energy. It leaves him there to wake up, and while it waits to make sure he's okay, it looks through its notes some more. It could easily gift similar amounts of power to multiple others if it wanted to... but the difficulty lies in finding good candidates...
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*
*Good place to end for a simple rp and transfer of power? I don’t know what to do with Tim though, I’ll sleep on it.*
She picks them up and sits them in her lap, making sure not to cut them.
“I’m sure ya can guess.” She grins villainously, kissing them again.
She nuzzles up against them, “Maybe you can teach me how to massage people.”
*Yeah, I'd say that's a good place to end. I kinda need to think of plans for what Helianth will do next as well.*
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)