CARE AND FEEDING OF THE HOMICIDAL MANIAC 101

[bloodspeaker]

Date & Time: Nov. 13, afternoon??
Location: Unit 408
Characters: Adrasteius Bloodspeaker & Satero e Ankhar
Summary: ADRA FEEDS THE DOGE
Warnings: the doge may have some plant/eyeball interaction issues ...



[A reasonable man may have anticipated Satero's visit with dread, particularly if that man had just recently been on the receiving end of Satero's fist. Adrasteius, by contrast, feels mainly curiosity. He's met many practitioners of casual violence--Azeroth is full of orcs, after all--but few who went about their business with such mad, joyous intensity. It's clear that there's something not quite right about Satero, and Adrasteius wants to know exactly what it is.

Besides, he rarely passes up the opportunity to feed someone, especially not when the apartment's kitchen currently overflows with the various sweet and savory products of his stress cooking. The need for magic gnaws at him, and no obvious solution to the problem has yet presented itself--but no matter about that right now. He can hear Satero's heavy footsteps in the hallway, rapidly approaching his open door.

Adrasteius picks up the promised tart plate and stands in the threshold of his apartment, waiting, his mouth set in a thin line. Hopefully Satero will keep his promise to hold back on the punching and kicking and so forth--Adrasteius had just mended his robes that morning.]

Comments

[fitful]

[ Man even if Satero hadn't found out Adrasteius' room number, he still would've been able to find Adrasteius' room -- he can smell it from here.

Rapid footsteps is right. Satero practically runs headfirst into the door. Or, er, scratch the practically -- he just straight-up head-butts that door. And then bangs his head into it a second time for good measure. YEAH. ]

[bloodspeaker]

[Adrasteius quickly throws the door open, concerned that another headbutt like that will result in either a broken skull or a broken door (possibly both).

He groans.]

That's not the traditional method of knocking, you know. Come on.

[He holds up the plate of tarts and takes a few steps back, in the manner of someone trying to lure in a rabid animal.]

This way.

[fitful]

Yeah, I-- ow.

[ Satero first staggers back a bit, rubbing his head, looking dazed. He looks utterly bemused by his own actions -- why did he do that? It'd seemed like a good idea at the time, but now his eyes are watering.

He rubs his eyes dry before looking back to tarts. ]

Those? Those are for me, right?

[ Satero stuffs his hands into his pockets, hunches his shoulders, and warily follows after Adrasteius. His attention is one hundred percent on the plate. ]

[bloodspeaker]

[He just doesn't even know what to do with this guy. Adrasteius keeps moving into the apartment, stopping when he reaches the common room. He sets the plate down on the coffee table.]

Yes, Satero. All yours. Have at'em.

[fitful]

[ Satero stands over the coffee table, head bowed, staring hard at the plate. He looks back up at Adrasteius once with a suspicious look on his face -- a slightly more rational part of his brain has woken up. He hurt Adrasteius. So why is Adrasteius letting Satero into his apartment? Why is he letting Satero eat his food? What is he planning?

Well, that's entirely too many questions for Satero to ponder at once. He settles for contemplating the most important questions, instead: why are there still so many tarts on that plate, and how come they aren't in his mouth yet.

He sits down on the floor and gets to work.

Satero's always been voracious, before, during, and after insanity had settled in. And he's hungry, right now. And the entire apartment smells so good. So Satero devours the tarts like he hasn't eaten in days, practically swallowing them whole.

It's only about three tarts later that he finally pauses in eating to take notice of Adrasteius' existence again. ]

These are good.

...Are there more?

[bloodspeaker]

[Adrasteius is fairly unflappable with regard to most things, up to and including grievous bodily harm. It's clear to him that Satero isn't in his right mind--that he possibly does not even possess a right mind--so he's not holding the kicking and punching, etc., against the man. Not that he would, anyway. Adra's anger is for the systemic problems of the world at large, for things that can only be corrected via societal change. His anger for individuals comes and goes.]

Yeah, sure. Try not to throw up on the carpet, though, eh?

[He's been cooking and baking constantly for the last few days, which means that the counter is piled not only with tarts, but with other things as well--a whole chicken, baked and seasoned with lemons and pepper; rich tomato soup in a big tureen; tiny, meticulously decorated cakes; a plate of turkey wraps (for god knows who, though it's clear that someone has been taking them--probably his roommates); and so on.]

[fitful]

[ Satero blinks. The tarts are all gone. He picks the plate up and looks underneath it, like he expects to find more tarts there. When he doesn't, he -- surprisingly delicately -- picks up the remaining crumbs and eats them, then sits up straight to eye the filled kitchen counters. ]

What'd you make so much for?

[ He gets up and steps over the coffee table, then climbs over the couch, and makes his way into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. He stops at some of the cakes and crouches down, bringing them to eye-level. Then he points at them. ]

Can I have these?

[bloodspeaker]

Because I like to cook, and because someone, somewhere, is always hungry.

[He nods after Satero asks for the cakes.] Like you, for instance. Go on.

[fitful]

[ Satero is more than happy to polish off... well, most of the cakes within reach. He only replies once he's gotten down to the last one. ]

Yeah, me, I guess. [ He shrugs, then finishes off the last bite of his cake. As he chews, something starts to shift in his left eyesocket... ] But, hell, I don't think even I could finish off this much in a day.

[ The sprout moves quickly, pushing its way out of the corner of his left eye and traveling up his temple, unfurling tiny white-green leaves as it goes. Satero doesn't appear to take any notice of it. ]

[bloodspeaker]

It's not meant to be eaten in one--

[Whoa, wait. What the goddamn hell is going on all of a sudden? Adrasteius stops, eyes widening, staring at the abrupt plant.]

Satero.

What the fuck is that.

[fitful]

[ Satero turns his head back around to Adrasteius, sharply. He scowls. ]

What?

[ And then he freezes, noticing the movement of the plant for the first time. The sprout is thickening, growing faster, wrapping back around his head towards the opposite ear like a second crown. And more sprouts are trying to sneak out of the same eye, now. ]

Oh, shit. [ He grabs the first, the biggest, and tugs very gently at it. Then swears, wincing in pain. ] 'Scuse me.

[ He raises a hand to Adra, straightening up to stagger off, away from the kitchen. ]

[bloodspeaker]

[Adrasteius has lived a long time, and he's most assuredly Seen Some Things. But flora sprouting out of someone's body--while they're still alive and moving around, no less--is a little bit unusual. Not even druids had that problem, typically. He grabs for Satero's arm.]

Hang on a tic. What the hell is going on? Do you need help?

[fitful]

[ Given how much bigger and taller he is, Satero could probably easy break out of Adra's grip -- or just drag him along -- but instead he stops, growling, suddenly hypersensitive to touch. Pain sneaks in, muddles his mind, makes his vision blur. He tries to take another step forwards, but stumbles. ]

I--

[ Slowly, with great amounts of care, he goes down on his knees and clutches at his face, covering his eyes. Blood-streaked leaves twist their way out from between his fingers. ]

[bloodspeaker]

[Well, that's just a thousand miles of bad road right there, isn't it. Adrasteius goes down along with Satero, his eyes wide with shock. He can feel the jagged, corrupted currents of magic running through the other man--leaping and bounding, actually, in their struggle to escape his body. Adra hesitates for only a second before covering Satero's hands with his own. His strangely deep voice loses its irritable edge when he speaks; instead, he sounds soothing, soft.]

You're all right. Just try to calm down for a moment.

[fitful]

[ Satero tenses up instead, swearing, digging his nails into his face as if trying to hold the plants back in. No use. Their growth goes unimpeded, and start to crawl over Adrasteius' fingers -- only for a bit. Then they abruptly draw back, instead continuing their path up into Satero's hair.

Satero tears his hands away. Fortunately, the plants break before he uproots his own eyeballs. He stares at Adrasteius and shakes his head. ]

No, just-- give me-- [ He coughs. He coughs up blood, as thorned vines crawl up his throat and out the corner of his mouth. Satero whines, and tries to speak through it, his voice thick with pain and bewilderment. No dice. His words come out unintelligible. ]

[bloodspeaker]

[Not good and getting worse. Adrasteius sets a warm palm against Satero's neck, concentrating. Shining light limns his fingers, spreading outwards from his fingertips to envelop Satero's body. He presses the forefinger of his other hand to Satero's temple, gently, and the magic that flows forth is of a darker color, purple and shadowy. He means to soothe the pain and confusion in Satero's mind as well as his body, using his magic to induce calm, to purify.

The magic he's dealing with is complex, abundant, and tightly woven into Satero's spirit, and Adra knows his work will not have a lasting effect. But if he can stem this disturbing tide for now, he thinks that will be enough.]

[fitful]

[ Satero starts to protest as Adrasteius lays hands on him again, flinching, trying to withdraw. But the magic takes effect quickly enough to freeze him.

His panic is stemmed first. The plants' growth second, slowing to a halt. Finally, the pain starts to ebb away. It's only a long while later, once Satero's episode has decisively come to an end, that the plants start to wither and wilt. Some crumbling away entirely.

Satero manages to close his eyes. He clenches his teeth together, and makes a low noise in the back of his throat -- but that's all. ]

[bloodspeaker]

[Adrasteius lets him go as soon as the plants recede. He falls back to sit on the floor, looking up at Satero, still concerned. Quietly:]

Are you all right ...?

[fitful]

[ Satero makes a slightly louder 'nghhhh' noise in response, rubbing blearily at his eyes and tugging out the rest of whatever flora remains while he's at it. It crumbles to dust in his fingers. He shakes his hands off.

His face is blood-streaked, but the flow has stopped, at least. He tries to wipe the blood off, but only manages to smear it more effectively across his face. He frowns. ]

Yeah, I... I think so. What did you do?

[bloodspeaker]

[Adrasteius stands up, blinking into the kitchen and back again. When he returns, he's holding a damp cloth, which he offers to Satero.]

I used my magic to soothe you--and the magic trying to spill out of you. I imagine the effect is only temporary.

[At least it definitely explains some things about this guy.]

[fitful]

Oh.

[ Satero stares at the towel. It takes him a moment to figure out what it's for. Only then does he take it, and bury his face into it. Errgh right yes have to... clean blood off... can't just stay like this.

After he's done cleaning the blood off, he looks down at the towel again, frowning at the new stains. There's something he wants to say, but the thoughts are taking a long while to form. Still, he gets it eventually, and he lifts his eyes back up to Adra. ]

Do you know... normally, that wouldn't have worked?