1811/An Occult Offering

An Occult Offering
Date of Scene:	15 March 2015
Location:	Great Painting of Ariamis <PoA>
Synopsis:	Eryl recieves his Christmas gift from Priscilla at long last.
Thanks to:	To Priscilla for such a cool gift! Sorry it took so long to make this happen.
Cast of Characters:	Priscilla, Eryl Fairfax

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Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl carefully makes his way across the treacherous bridge, carefully placing each foot so that he doesn't slip and tumble into the abyss below. He looks around, Original Face matching the surroundings with what was seen in Heaven, confirming that this is the same place he and Priscilla stood in at the end of her dream.

     Heaven... he and Priscilla had barely spoken since then. Not that he could blame her if she never spoke to him again. Having a chance at a perfect life, after persisting in an imperfect one in a ruined world, only to have the illusion shattered by an interloper...

     "Well. We shall see," he says to no-one as he reaches solid ground once more. Keeping his eyes pointed firmly downward, to avoid glimpsing the green sun, he climbs the winding stairs and stands before the gate. Taking off his cape, he folds it into a makeshift cushion and places it on the ground next to the bonfire, sitting down to take refuge from the all-enveloping cold.

     There, he waits.

Priscilla has posed:
    The Book of Heaven is going to be a sore spot in Priscilla's life history for a very long time. That much is just an unavoidable fact. The type that can come out of that kind of experience completely unscathed as a person is exceedingly rare. Be that as it may however, if Priscilla had forgiven Mizuki (or perhaps never had blamed her in the first place), she can certainly find it within herself to forgive Eryl, who was tangentially related at best. He had been the one to shatter her pleasant dream, but there is no sense in shooting the messenger. The fact it was needed at all was entirely her own fault.

    As a result, Erly is probably the only one feeling tense at this point, though he could hardly be blamed. Even outside of the castle walls proper, out of sight of the abominations that lie within, Ariamis is not a place that exudes hospitality. It is peaceful, at the very least. Almost unnaturally so. Remote, quiet, perhaps even tranquil; but ultimately a strange, unsettling and vaguely surreal place. Only the distant rumble of the wind, the fading cries of unknown creatures across the mountain divide, the gentle tinkling of the bonfire, and, if he listens very carefully, the slightest sounds of whispering voices, keep Eryl company until Priscilla arrives.

    Having learned by now to do welcome visitors the courtesy of not sneaking up on them, Priscilla exits the front gates the normal way, opening them only the barest amount necessary to get through, before shouldering the heavy doors closed with a faint sound of exertion. She carries a simple burlap bag under one arm, which she sets down on the church pew pushed up to the bonfire years ago for people to wait on. "I apologize if I hath kept thee waiting. It was mine own offer that lead thee to this place."

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl can appreciate the quiet peacefulness the world offers. That he won't deny. What he cannot handle is nonsense like green suns, and fires that burn without kindling, just bones. So, he keeps his eyes firmly closed as he waits, contemplating on how this would go. Exactly what upgrade could a medieval world offer a cyborg like him, he wonders. He thinks very hard on this, so he doesn't have to acknowledge the whispers, thank you very much.

     But eventually, the gates are opened. Eryl smoothly rises, opening his eyes and bowing to Priscilla as she approaches. "Not long at all. My apologies that this meeting took so long to happen. My duties are demanding, to say the least."

     He remains standing, looking up at Priscilla, smiling gently. "I have to admit though, I was surprised at that gift, as was ReGenesis when I communicated the offer to them. You must understand, cybernetics is a fiddly business. Depending on the nature of this 'upgrade,' I may have to decline."

     He folds his arms, and nods to the crossbreed. "So, what is the offer, if I may ask?"

Priscilla has posed:
    It's pretty unusual that people bow to Priscilla; well, fairly unusual that anyone in the multiverse does it at all; and so she can appreciate that small sign of familiar manners. The ghost of a smile the crossbreed offers Eryl should tell anyone more familiar with her just how much she likes him. "Thou art not beholden to me or mine own desires. The both of us hath important work to attend to, and neither of us hath true limits on the span of our lives. I am less of a hurried soul than thee."

    Tugging the bottom end of the bag up, Priscilla slides the burlap over a rectangular wooden box inside, a smaller satchel of what appears to be thick silk, and a perfect cube of dark, pitted stone, simply draped over with cotton. She pops open the first object, which appears to be a toolbox judging by the collection of fine metallic instruments inside, though anyone would be hard pressed to figure out what they're for. There doesn't appear to be anything heavy enough to be for metalworking, anything capable of holding thread, and clearly nothing that would indicate electrical work. "The inner workings of thine existing augmentations art immaterial to me. This is not a process which requires comprehensive knowledge of the original piece, but a fundamental understanding of something else."

    Reaching into the satchel, Priscilla rummages through something that makes a collection of clinking sounds like pieces of hollow glass, before withdrawing a jagged shard of some kind of glossy black metal, holding it against the light and turning it over in her hands. "Present to me thine armaments, Sir Fairfax. Thou hast spent long enough under the heel of foreign gods."

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl chuckles and nods. "You're right. Forgive me, it takes a little getting used to, not being the oldest individual around anymore." He does catch the little smile on Priscilla's face and makes a note to stick to more old-fashioned displays of etiquette around her.

     He examines the contents of the bag, frowning slightly. "These tools are unlike any I've seen before. I can't quite gauge their function... so, I assume they are for some kind of magic?" He actually looks a little worried here. He and magic have not gotten along well in the time he has been in the Multiverse.

     Next, he examines the glassy material Priscilla produces. Without a sample of it, he can't be totally sure, but it doesn't seem to be anything his world shares. "Ah... right away? Hold on a moment." Closing his eyes, he starts to send a transmission to ReGenesis, stating what is happening.

     The answer comes in only a few moments. "START WITH ONE LIMB." He nods, and smiles again at Priscilla. "ReGenesis has asked that we start with only one limb, to make sure that this does not have any adverse side-effects." He starts to take off his coat, tie and shirt, exposing his torso and its myriad surgical scars. With his left hand, he digs into the skin at his right shoulder, revealing the hidden seam of the false skin that covers his right arm. With a fast tug, he pulls it off, revealing his mechanical right arm.

     It's a dull grey, and quite spindly. The inner workings are totally concealed by external plating, and there are slots and gaps all over for the weapon systems. "Here you are, Miss Priscilla. Go right ahead," he says, as he presents the arm to her.

Priscilla has posed:
    "Hardly." Priscilla would chuckle if she were that type of person. "I am no sorceror. Magic of any formal variety is entirely beyond me." She catches him staring at the shard of metal, looking to him with a faintly curious expression despite clearly understanding his intent. "This is titanite. Where each god created a facet of the world or a race of living beings, the nameless forge utilized his divine power to create a metal instead; one worthy of forging the weapons of divinity. The pure slabs he once used are long lost, and the metal's power fades as it diminishes in size, but even the fragments left to us art powerful indeed. It is practically a second currency in Lordran, now that arms and armour are everything to a pilgrim. I hath accrued more than a few shards of decent size, and I hath little use for them other than to occasionally offer service to a fellow Unionite."

    She puts the titanite shard down for the moment, moving over to Eryl as he literally pulls his skin off. It's a little weird to Priscilla to see the metal underneath rather than an abrupt show of gore. She takes gentle hold of the cybernetic limb, supporting the elbow with one hand and running the other down over its length, her fingers trailing off at the wrist. Her thumb pushes lightly at the back of his hand, tilting it down so she can see into one of the numerous ports. "I hath seen these in use before. As far as I knoweth, this arm conceals two firearms and a blade. Present one or the other in the way thou wouldst employ it against a foe."

    Letting go of Eryl, Priscilla moves back to the bench, carefully removing the cloth from the stone cube laid upon the stained wood. A wave of heat ripples off the object; too strong to logically be contained by a flimsy piece of fabric sitting over it. The cube is apparently hollowed on the inside, as if meant to be half of a container. Sitting within its depths is nothing but a steadily burning flame, though no manner of fire Eryl has ever seen. First, it consumes nothing at its base, simply sitting within the box as if a material object that could be removed at any time if someone knew how, but more importantly, the flame itself appears as if taken through a photo negative. Rather than giving off light, it seems to absorb it, drawn in towards the shivering embers of pitch black fire that fades into a corona of eerie grey at its edge.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl listens patiently to the explanation, his implants saving it and storing it away. "Fascinating... the materials of the gods themselves in the hands of mortals." He nods, and allows Priscilla to inspect his limb. It's actually been a long time since anyone other than he has seen the whole thing naked, and he actually feels a little self-conscious about it. Though he doesn't show it.

     "Ah! Don't do that!" he explains with surprise as Priscilla peers down one of the openings. "It's, uh... standard safety precautions. Sorry." When asked to present the weapons, he nods and points his index finger, a hole at the tip opening to reveal a barrel. "This is, ah... 'One Hand Clapping.' Fires a small slug at high speeds. Reloads through here." A slot where the blade of his hand meets the wrist opens up, a clip being pushed out.

     "The blade is called... 'Ungraspables.'" From the slot Priscilla was peeking down, a thin blade emerges, buzzing slightly as it vibrates. "And the third firearm is... 'Flowering Hedge.'" He actually sounds embarrassed now as he bends his arm at the elbow, a bigger opening appearing at the elbow. "It fires heavier slugs that can split into pellets mid-flight."

     He peers at the container... and immediately wished he didn't. The sight of a black flame that burns without kindling sets Original Face off immediately. "O-Oh goodness..." He turns his head away, like someone who fears needles does when receiving an injection.

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla once again almost laughs. Almost. "Perhaps, but in this case, it is most certainly not in the hands of a mortal, nor to be forged in a mortal flame." Priscilla pays careful attention as each of Eryl's weapons are revealed, in the general configurations that she remembers. "I am somewhat familiar. I hath seen thee employ such before. I merely need direct access to them in order to work." And work she does. Priscilla gestures over to the bench for Eryl to seat himself, in order to save her the effort of leaning down and standing back up over and over again to go between the Ember and his arm. Retrieving a pair of fine, quadracep tongs, she holds the glossy black fragment over the bizarre, inverted flame, and watches as it begins to heat up to a cherry red tone, slowly creeping into golden orange.

    "Titanite cannot be softened by any amount of heat. It reacts only to the blaze of a powerful soul. Titanite smiths utilize Embers, handed down by the gods to mortal races, in order to render the metal malleable. This one was disposed of in Ariamis long ago for its heretical nature. It is an Ember distorted by occultic powers; its divine imbuement reversed to be anethema to that which springeth from the gods. With the number of divinities and their disciples who prowl the multiverse, unworthy of life, it is suddenly a valuable tool. Now switch that off please." She gestures towards the exposed Ungraspable, indicating that she doesn't want to try working on it while it's still vibrating.

    Once Eryl has complied, she holds the glowing titanite out over the length of the blade, piercing it with some kind of needle, and then using the foreceps to draw it away, pulling out a string of metal, like thin wire, pinning one end to the point of the blade, she reaches for a tool that looks like a soldering iron, steadily unwinding more titanite filament as she presses each length into the metal beneath it, steadily drawing an extended, surprisingly complex pattern over its outer surface.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl grins, and shakes his head. "I am still uncertain if I am truly immortal or not. What was done to me was somewhat... untested, even in the Before Times. It could just be that death will come to me far later than most. We shall see."

     He risks a glance over to watch as the titanite is heated, again paying close attention to the explanation. "So, weapons made from titanite forged in this Ember are anathema to godly beings? Amazing..." With a nod, he deactivates the Ungraspable, allowing Priscilla to start putting elegant patterns of titanite on its surface. As she does, he thinks, wiggling the fingers of his other hand.

     "I have a question, Miss Priscilla. I apologize in advance if it seems simple to you, this is a matter in which I have little experience. But what about projectile weapons? Does the ammunition have to be made of titanite forged in this Ember to be effective against gods? Or could the weapon itself be made in such a way, and everything fired from it would take on that property?"

Priscilla has posed:
    As Priscilla gets lost in her work, she begins to hum to herself; a quiet, stilted little tune that is too faint and vague to be heard properly. Utterly impossible to remember, it only gives off the impression that she might just be enjoying herself. It takes her a while to answer Eryl's question, pausing only once she has finished tracing a winding triple helix down the length of the blade and has begun outlining the edge. "The latter, if arrows fired by bows art of any indication. Titanite ammunition wouldst compound additional effect, but wouldst be prohibitively rare. The difficulty of acquiring a large supply wouldst far outweigh its benefits."

    Once the Ungraspable shimmers with an almost floral filligree of sizzling gold, Priscilla places the half-expended shard back down, picking up a second tool with a revolving knifepoint tip. Holding both handles like an electrician in the process of stripping and fusing wires, she begins the time consuming process of etching; making incisions in the metal and grinding the molten titanite into the conduits left beneath it, so that it fuses to the blade proper. "Additionally, titanite reinforcement shalt enhance the basic properties of that which it is etched into, regardless of its composition. With the level of material I hath available, I expect a half-again increase of durability and overall lethality."

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl smiles softly as Priscilla hums her little tune, watching patiently as she painstakingly engraves the armblade. Though he has to wait a little while for an answer, when it is given, he silently nods, and communicates that information to ReGenesis.

     Oh yes, his observers are paying close attention, and learning that his weapons could be enhanced with simple engravings, they've begun deliberation. Given how long such a thing might take, could they afford to give him such a prolonged leave from his mission? Ultimately, the winning argument is that one night away could spare him several nights in Medical in future.

     As Priscilla ensures that the titanite has fused properly, Eryl receives an answer. "In that case... Miss Priscilla. I realize that this task is quite time-consuming, and has the potential to get monotonous, so feel free to refuse my next question. But, would you be willing to engrave the barrels of my coilguns with titanite, as well as certain sections of my limbs I use to attack with? ReGenesis has decided that applying such effects to my body would be highly desirable, and are even willing to compensate you for the work."

     He shakes his head. "But, I understand if you do not wish to turn a kind Christmas gift into hard work, so do not feel obligated. An enhanced 'Ungraspable' is good enough."

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla looks up from the blade as she completes her task, fixing Eryl with a benign if completely inscrutable kind of stare. "Thou misunderstand mine intentions, Sir Fairfax. Christmas was merely an occasion which didst maketh it appropriate. This stems entirely from mine own desires." Picking up the remaining half a shard, Priscilla returns to heating titanite over the ember. The heat of the etchings begins to fade, rapidly cooling down until only a faint haze is visible rippling over the steel of Eryl's sword. Strangely, the jet black metal has become completely invisible, leaving the Ungraspable looking no different from before. The patterns will only show themselves once the blade is under a significant amount of physical or magical stress.

    "Simply put . . . I am rather fond of thee. Men of thine calibre art rare in the multiverse. Thou art brave and selfless, courteous and kind, generous and firm, and stalwart under all circumstances. Thou wouldst maketh an admirable knight in any other era. Whilst most maketh use of their power at arms to do good in the form of venturing back and forth, dispensing justice and disposing of evil, thou art not like them. Thine mission is not to becometh a great legend, a paragon of virtue, a champion of justice, or even simply to combat all that is cruel in the world, but one more uncommon and precious. Thou art a man of patience, mercy and healing. One who ventures forth into the unknown in order to provide his world and his people a second chance. One who believes that wrongs can be righted in practicality and deed rather than only in symbolic retribution. It is easy to do good by preventing future evil, but far harder to undo that which is already done. I will not see a man who dedicates his life to providing a new start for those who will accept it, trampled underfoot by rampaging godlings without the sense to understandeth any way of solving troubles other than simply barraging them with their power and privilege until they art no more."

    While talking, she works on One Hand Clapping next, using the narrow length of her tools to reach into the gun barrel and draw spiralling patterns along its length, as if it were in need of rifling, before moving onto the ammo ports themselves.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     As Priscilla speaks, Eryl... actually blushes a little bit. And this isn't some carefully calculated ploy to show emotion so that others aren't scared off by his impassivity. He actually did make an attempt to suppress the reflex, but it was overwhelmed. ReGenesis had come to... well, he doesn't want to say 'take him for granted,' but they certainly regarded his actions as less awe-inspiring than the ReGenesis of a century ago.

     "Y-You are very kind to say so, Miss Priscilla," he eventually manages to stammer out as he collects himself. He offers the hand gun for her to work on, keeping the finger steady and straight. After such a frank statement, he feels like he should say something too.

     "... from what I saw in Heaven, I was able to make some guesses as to your past. I don't like prying too much but... given that you were so young in it, it implies one of two things: the first is that your childhood was the only time you were happy. The other is that... your life has been so long and full of hardships, that your perfect world would be one that was joyful from the beginning."

     He frowns slightly, clenching and unclenching his other hand. "All I can say is, I wish I could have been there for you much earlier. And that I will aid you as best I can in your quest. If I have anything to say about it, a happy end /will/ come from all this. I swear it to you."

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla would smile at Eryl's awkwardness, but the Book of Heaven is a little bit of a dark turn for the conversation. She may not blame him for what had happened, but that doesn't mean she's over the entire thing. In the end though, her difficulty in expressing herself also works favourably in that it's difficult for her to appear visibly unsettled, and se Eryl will likely little idea of what kind of button he's just pushed as long as Priscilla keeps her voice steady and her eyes down on his elbow where the glow of molten metal thread illuminates the gun port.

    "Thou hast me at something of a disadvantage, as I hath little idea of what a perfect world wouldst be to thee. I know not much of thine past and little of thine motivations, only of thine ways. I know it was very recent to thee, but it was a thousand years ago to I. Anything there is to think and feel of it, I hath already felt and thought long ago. There is little sense revisiting the past now, especially when there is yet hope of a future." She finishes up completely with his arm, gesturing for him to present the next one. "All the same, I am nothing but glad of thine assistance. Thou art exactly the man I wouldst wish for this."

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Without an ounce of hesitation, goes into what his Heaven was. "In that book, I saw a world thoroughly revitalized. Though the combined efforts of ReGenesis and the Multiverse, it was brought back from the brink. I was allowed to continue aiding people however I liked." He gives a small grin. "I suppose that's not hard to figure out. Though, I actually hadn't shared this with anyone before now. I must admit... seeing it only revitalized my drive to see it become a reality."

     He nods to Priscilla, smiling again. It seems that she convinced him that she was over it. "I wish more were like you, Miss Priscilla. So many are so utterly wrapped up in what happened in the past, letting it define their every action. That you have moved on so resolutely is admirable."

     On his exposed arm, he opens up the barrel to 'Flowering Hedge' so she can start engraving it. "But, this will likely take some time. Let us move on to something more pleasant. I have many books on my person, and am happy to read them to you as you work, if you like."

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla sighs quietly at that thought, rummaging through her satchel for a new shard, trying to pick out one of equal size and shape. "Such is true. I wouldst say it is a symptom of short lives, where one possesses not enough time to heal the most dire of wounds, but there art those who hath lived nearly as long, or even longer than I, who art still slaves to what hast been done to them rather than what they wouldst wish to do." She smiles in the sad sort of way that comes more naturally to her than one of genuine joy. "Or perhaps it is simple selection. If I was unable to do what I hath done, I wouldst hath long ago gone irrevocably insane, and thus I wouldst no longer be applicable to hold against others. Perhaps we art all equally capable of escaping and falling into our pasts, and the latter is simply the more common result." She pauses her work at the very end of working on Flowering Hedge. "Oh, memorized, yes? I wouldst enjoy that. It hast been a long time since anyone read to me."