>>5283659>>5283656>>5283651>>5283636>>5283576>>5283573>>5283572>>5283691“Very well,” you say, feigning a grudging acceptance of the offer. “I’ll remain here for the time being. Your proposal is a worthy one—Glowie would be well-served by such an amlet, and therefore our expedition.”
“Finally, some sense!” the Novice exclaims. “Or perhaps you’re just more biddable now that you’ve seen my genius in action.”
You don’t know about her genius, but as the Novice sets about rummaging around in her various supplies, you enjoy watching her tail and wide, egg-bearing hips in action. Did she always have those thick thighs? Damn, you really should have taken advantage of the breeding pits…
It takes some coercion and coaxing, but you are able to convince Glowie to let the Novice draw some of her blood—or the nearly-clear, faintly-green substance that passes for blood in her body. She shudders and recoils from you as you do so but, on impulse, you reach out and pat her ‘head’ segment. This seems to soothe the worm-princess slightly.
“Why do you coddle this creature?” the Novice asks quietly, when you are done.
“Jealous?” you reply.
She hisses softly in irritation, but troubles you no more. In truth… Well, Glowie seems a friend. Moreover, she seems a potentially useful ally, as do her people, be it as equals or (more plausible, and more agreeable) lesser. Why antagonize her? At least, this is the rationale you offer for letting her hold you hand for a time before you return to aiding the Novice in her work of chalk drawings, chants, and arcane gestures.
You two young mages reach a roadblock in your research when you come upon a particular problem with the creation of the Amulet: a suitable source of blood for the disguise to be forged from.
“Foolishness!” the Novice curses, glaring at you.
“Do not hold me responsible, my tutor. I am but a humble student.”
Still, the Novice simmers… Until, eventually, she rolls up her sleeve and shoves her arm out before you, thrusting a metal syringe out in her other hand.
“Mine will do,” she says, affecting a serious countenance at odds with her trembling.
Is she… Afraid of needles? THIS creature, so obsessed with the weaving of flesh, fearless sin the face of the Fearsome Presence? You resist the urge to laugh, only so you can hold the implement steady. You hold her arm firmly, allowing yourself to slide it up to her shoulder. She shivers, whether out of fear or revulsion or some other reason you cannot be sure…
But she averts her eyes and seems to calm, even as she must squeeze them shut when you draw the blood and bandage the incision.
