((OOC: This follows the events of Vesper's Quest and the (still in progress) story of Celeth's encounters with the fairy Shang.))
Exhaustion was setting in. To conserve his power, Celeth had walked the long road back toward the Institute. It was only too late that he realized this was a mistake.
The wound was grave. Worse than he'd thought. The potion had stopped the bleeding, but nothing could stop the pain. Even worse, the hole in Celeth's chest that exposed his ribcage had also disrupted the runes. Demonic power leaked out from the ripped flesh where the symbols were now incomplete.
Outside the Great Hall he finally succumbed, sitting down wearily on the side-alley's cobblestones. All the while, the man cursed himself, the event playing itself back in his mind over and over. He had struggled to control the demonic tentacles he'd released, and as a result one was ripped from his body. The error, could have proven fatal to himself and his allies.
Of course, the wound to his chest would heal. It was clean and the flesh had already begun to knit, thanks to the alchemical works of a promising young student.
The wound to his pride, however, only festered more and more as Celeth sat in silence, cursing his weakness.
Then came a familiar voice, one of the few here or anywhere this man's ears truly welcomed.
"She starts on her journey at set of the sun, when stars are first twinkling her work's just begun! The moon will be up by the time she is done, so hush now my baby... Be still, close your eyes... And Mama will sing you a sweet lullaby, 'til the dream fairy in through your window does fly..."
Exhaustion was setting in. To conserve his power, Celeth had walked the long road back toward the Institute. It was only too late that he realized this was a mistake.
The wound was grave. Worse than he'd thought. The potion had stopped the bleeding, but nothing could stop the pain. Even worse, the hole in Celeth's chest that exposed his ribcage had also disrupted the runes. Demonic power leaked out from the ripped flesh where the symbols were now incomplete.
Outside the Great Hall he finally succumbed, sitting down wearily on the side-alley's cobblestones. All the while, the man cursed himself, the event playing itself back in his mind over and over. He had struggled to control the demonic tentacles he'd released, and as a result one was ripped from his body. The error, could have proven fatal to himself and his allies.
Of course, the wound to his chest would heal. It was clean and the flesh had already begun to knit, thanks to the alchemical works of a promising young student.
The wound to his pride, however, only festered more and more as Celeth sat in silence, cursing his weakness.
Then came a familiar voice, one of the few here or anywhere this man's ears truly welcomed.
"She starts on her journey at set of the sun, when stars are first twinkling her work's just begun! The moon will be up by the time she is done, so hush now my baby... Be still, close your eyes... And Mama will sing you a sweet lullaby, 'til the dream fairy in through your window does fly..."