CrownS
The newborn magic chews through Eight and assimilates all his memories into the others it has collected. It puts a little shard of him up on the shelf next to the ones who came before: Maggot, Cobain, Larva, and Ghaul. The curse had been impure in their hearts but now, distilled, it flows freely through the child’s veins and leaves none of their madness in its wake. The ancient serpent makes room for the magician’s life down in the marrow of Crowns’ bones and then, finally, it rests. It has carved all their names into his heart and it is content with its work.
Slowly, bit by bit, Crowns finds the strength to keep his legs from trembling. He digests all the new memories and lifetimes as they no longer flood his throat and choke him. There is only a quiet understanding as he devours the entire history of Eight’s life as well as the others. Their choices made sense, at the time, despite whatever chaos ensued. He sees this and he accepts it as his body accepts its newfound strength.
His wide blue eyes observe Eight as he speaks, hardly blinking as he clings to every word. They don’t make sense, at first, but the viper gently feeds the words to him until he catches on.
“Anything?” he echoes, and something inside him answers, Anything.
Crowns dwells on the question a while and thinks of his father, of those frost-covored scales and how strong they are. Even his mother’s fangs can’t find a way to break through them. The boy furrows his brows and slowly, inch by awful inch, flames lick across his skin. It burns away the fine baby hair of his mane and his newborn coat to leave armored dragonscale across his body. The weight of them is heavier than what he is accustomed to.
He turns his head and observes himself now, posing this way and that to appreciate the way he glistens now. “Am I still me, though?” he asks, suddenly worried as he turns to look back at his friend.
Slowly, bit by bit, Crowns finds the strength to keep his legs from trembling. He digests all the new memories and lifetimes as they no longer flood his throat and choke him. There is only a quiet understanding as he devours the entire history of Eight’s life as well as the others. Their choices made sense, at the time, despite whatever chaos ensued. He sees this and he accepts it as his body accepts its newfound strength.
His wide blue eyes observe Eight as he speaks, hardly blinking as he clings to every word. They don’t make sense, at first, but the viper gently feeds the words to him until he catches on.
“Anything?” he echoes, and something inside him answers, Anything.
Crowns dwells on the question a while and thinks of his father, of those frost-covored scales and how strong they are. Even his mother’s fangs can’t find a way to break through them. The boy furrows his brows and slowly, inch by awful inch, flames lick across his skin. It burns away the fine baby hair of his mane and his newborn coat to leave armored dragonscale across his body. The weight of them is heavier than what he is accustomed to.
He turns his head and observes himself now, posing this way and that to appreciate the way he glistens now. “Am I still me, though?” he asks, suddenly worried as he turns to look back at his friend.
@[Eight]