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Post by Noa on Jul 12, 2021 17:30:29 GMT -6
A year, Noa noted to himself, could pass so quickly. When he had been a child, the passage of the years had been marked by birthdays -- a chance to beseech his parents for small gifts and allowances, in exchange, he realized later, for his own tithe in blood. At the time he hadn't known the ramifications of the ritual, and its only remarkable aspect had been the fact that it was the one time he was ever allowed outside the house. His parents would escort him to this place, would march with him up the altar, would guide his hand on the blade until he was old enough to make the cut himself without trembling. He never remembered what happened after that. It was a grim way to celebrate, but one that he had maintained out of necessity. Not that there was much to celebrate anymore, considering the passage of time also marked the slow but steady approach of his own impending death.
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Post by Noa on Jul 12, 2021 17:34:43 GMT -6
He had some hope of slipping the noose of that fate. In fact, today was a culmination of a great deal of effort. It had been mere happenstance that he had managed to acquire enough materials for a light node just as the time had approached for him to pay a visit to the altar himself, but it felt fitting, somehow, that he would be making this node with a sliver of his own soul.
The crystals were warm in his hands in a way that thrilled and unsettled him at once. It was not an unfamiliar warmth, reminiscent of sunlight and the warm weight of the familiar sitting on his shoulder, but even so there was a quality to him that felt alien, as if to tell him that such things were not meant for him.
Which was preposterous, of course. He was no elemental, and there was no such thing as an allergy to a particular element of magic.
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Post by Noa on Jul 12, 2021 17:38:33 GMT -6
He would not dwell on it any further. The sooner he began, the sooner it would be over. And he had done this far too many times now to balk at the thought of the ritual itself, having performed it since he could hardly string two words together.
He began his ascent at a brisk pace, but was soon forced to slow. His endurance had improved, but his body had never been strong, and the stairs were steep as well as numerous. By the time he reached the top, he was breathing hard, and only pride kept him standing up mostly straight. As for the robed figures, he greeted them with an impassive gaze. He had once been unnerved by their presence too, but familiarity had bred a sort of contempt. Now it was easy to act as if they weren't there as he placed his items on the altar, and began at once to reach for the knife.
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Post by Noa on Jul 12, 2021 17:48:31 GMT -6
He ate the berries first, swallowing them without chewing, then lifted the knife, feeling the familiar weight of it settle into his hand. It had been so big once, too heavy to hold steady, even without the added gravity of what he was about to do. But now it was almost laughably small, and it was nothing to lift it to the soft pale skin of his arm, to push the edge until it broke skin. At least it was sharp; the incision was no worse than many other things Noa had inflicted upon himself over the years in the name of his own research.
Over time it had gotten almost boring to wait and watch as his own blood dripped over the crystals, but this time there was a sense of anticipation that he hadn't felt in years. A light node... Now he would have access to a node for his own experiments, rather than having to make do with theories and research.
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Post by Noa on Jul 12, 2021 17:54:40 GMT -6
He watched, hawk-like, as blood ran over the crystals. Then he knelt, pushing down a pang of distaste for what was to come. When he had been younger, there had been little enough pride to insult, but now he could more keenly feel the humiliation of being forced to his knees for the ritual. And the prayers had been easier when he was a child, filled as he had been with a child's foolish faith. Now there was only hunger and ambition, and the faith had been replaced by a cynicism toward the whims of the gods.
With this... With this he would make his own way forward. If the gods would not extend his life, then he would wrest back what was owed to him with his own two hands.
A thought drifted by, tangential and invasive, an insistent buzz at the periphery of his mind: sunlight, summer sunlight; laughter and a warm weight at his side... A memory, he thought, though he hardly recognized it.
It was of no importance.
He pushed it from his mind, and recentered his focus. This year, or at most the next... He would make it happen. He would find himself a cure.
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Post by Nadia on Jul 29, 2021 8:40:35 GMT -6
Node creation: success! Cooldown period ends on 13th July 2022
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