red sky at morning BY Carasson

Blood magic, really Chip? Are you sure? Because it certainly wasn't a request idly considered. Not that it actually bothered him to impart said wisdom. He relished the idea of unleashing those sorts of powers on that mewling Keeper. It was certainly a mistake to let him see so much of him back in that tent. Now, several days on, he'd since come to the conclusion that he would have to play this much closer to the vest than his instincts preferred. Mortal chaos was a balm to him, a tension so thick and rife with fear that he swore he might sustain himself, even in this body, even broken as he was throughout this cursed hellscape. 

But if he really wanted the upper hand, he would need to play it safe until the opportune moment of which he would only know iwhen he saw it. Leaning in the opening of the small abode as his host was so accustomed to do, he crossed his arms in consternation. I don't think it's a good idea. He said simply.

Chip nodded, I know the basics. But it could be useful in protecting the clan. I should learn more. And he didn't know any other clan-member who was as skilled in blood magic.

Nor anyone he'd trust as much to teach him properly. If it'll make you feel better, I can order you to teach me. As your Keeper. That was not a card played often; Chip rarely held his role over the heads of others.

But on this, he would.

He nodded solemnly, head bowed as if he was truly concerned about either of their well beings in this. As if cared about the sea drunk clan hiding on the storm coast, sucking their thumbs. Spineless urchins, the lot of them. 

You can, but it won't change my opinion on it. He did his best to look pensieve, a glint of anxious anticipation twinkling briefly in his eyes. I'll do it. But you must listen to everything I say. No more pulling the Keeper card until we're done. Understand? Complete and utter control, that's what he needed.

The Keeper raised his eyebrows, grinning. Complete control, hm? Didn't know you were quite this kinky. A jest, though he'd remind himself to ask later. Were they missing out in the bedroom?

He settled at a chair, and waited for Carasson to join him. So how does this lesson start?

The tiniest part of him in that moment thrummed with joy at the inneundo. The rest of him however, felt nauseated. He managed a encouraged smirk nevertheless. You've got a lot to learn about me in that regard Xochipilli. 

He dove into motion, collecting the implements he'd brought along with him when the initial request was made. Maybe he was a little more enthusiastic about the idea than he let on. Or maybe he was just as well prepared as he always was. A dutiful First, ready when he needed to be. 

He spread a mat on the table between them, positioning three different sized bowls atop and a well polished, jewel hilted dagger only used for rituals. He finally sat, nodding to the spread between them and reaching both hands out for the larger man to grab. Don't get shy on me now Keeper He winked.

The grin on his face said it all; he was extremely pleased. Do I? Hm, twenty years of knowing you, and you've still got some secrets. He tutted playfully, as he settled into a seat, waiting for the lesson to begin. He wondered what those secrets were and looked forward to learning said secrets. Very little could scare Chip away.

As a mat was spread, with three different bowls and a ritual dagger, he reached for Carasson's hand. Pfft. Me, shy? Never. It was true; Chip wasn't shy in the least, too full of himself to think about being shy. He leaned over the table slightly, aiming to steal a kiss from the other man. If it wasn't Cara there, well, his spirit was doing a good job blending in. Quick study. Mmm, sorry, my teacher's distracting. He murmured, as he broke the kiss.

There's always more to learn Chip, as I'm sure you've much still to teach me. He said sagely, threading his fingers through the others. That is unless you're keeping secrets from me? He countered back with an equally playful town as he adjusted in the seat across the table. 

At the moment of the kiss, when both their eyes were closed, Cara's lips dripped into a frown only to manage in some way to kiss back. Mercissfully he didn't have to contemplate a reason for cutting it short. He just smiled conspiratorily at Chip as if he might actually blush from the compliment. Yes well, if we're going to do this you need to focus. Work now, secrets later. He squeezed the other pair of hands as if in promise. Now, he dropped one hold in favor of the dagger, holding it up. It depends on your intentions for the spell you wish to cast. Your blood needs spilled into one of the smaller bowls. How much power do you want to wield Chip? If you're hesitatant, let me cut. If you're feeling greedy, have at it. He held out the dagger by the blade to the other. It must be on the palm. Fifth digit diagonal to thumb. Nice and slow so you can hear the blade cut. With their accerlated healing it would take but seconds to web back over anew.

Chip smirked at the reaction to the kiss, unwares of anything off. Secrets later, then. He promised, returning the squeeze to the other's hands. It wasn't until he spoke about the dagger, holding it in one hand, that Chip hummed thoughtfully.

The elf knew his healing attributes would cause the cut to close quickly. And he was inexperienced. You should do it, so I can watch. He stated, thinking about the knife against his flesh. About the man that held the knife.

His thoughts trailed down a naughtier path, and he briefly lost his focus.

It was laughable how distracted the Keeper seemed. Whether it was because he didn't take any of this seriously or because his thoughts wandered elsewhere didn't matter to him. You like to watch then? He feigned a smirk at a thought that wore plainly on his features. Don't blink. He turned the dagger in his hand, holding it now by the hilt as he positioned Chip's hand to splay wide. Just breathe.

A beat later he was using the point of the blade to slice along the large calloused palm. A red thread of blood swelled up, as he then dropped the blade and pressed hard into the wound. Breathe He reminded the Keeper as he squeezed the blood into one of the smaller bowls. When the flow stopped, as the healing was quick, he patted his hand and took up the dagger again to do the same thing to his own palm in the other small bowl on the other side of the larger. He grunted against the sharp pain. Tongue slipping over his canines as he relished it all. He felt his muscles clench. 

Now. A simple start. You want to heal your ally's, say in a fight against darkspawn. You can sacrifice your own fortitude for their good. He flicked his wrist and beads of blood from each bowl converged together in a helix above the larger bowl, swirling artfully. He took up the dagger again and swept it quickly over his cheek. Focus your blood to heal me. When at the same time, he intended to do something quite different in return. He would let the wound be healed by the other, to continue the farce until the moment when the spell was truly in place to wreak the most damage. He closed his eyes and willed his body's own nature response to slow the healing. Eyes sparkled with anticipation in spite of his desire to keep his presence hidden.

Xochipilli obeyed, watching the knife as it cut through his flesh, and then through Cara's hand. The blood was... enamoring; or perhaps it was the man cutting. Whatever it was, his eyes did not stray.

He watched the blood gather in the bowls, his gaze flicking to follow as Carasson cut his cheek, and told him what to do. Chip was quiet, as he focused.

The blood in the bowl moved under the weight of his command, and eventually he'd gathered it in a small amount; almost like a needle, threading the cut to Cara's cheek back together slowly. It wasn't the best, and a healer would certainly scoff at the stitching.

But it did the job.

And he grinned, triumphantly at his companion.

A grunt of tolerated pain vibrated through him as the wound, deeper than he mightve liked to begin with, healed with the spell. Good, Innocuous enough considering the practice from which it originated. He opened his eyes to lock with the other, smiling with satisfaction. A bit clumsy, but good. You can also use it in reverse. Your ally's lifeforce for your own gain. Usually only in true desperation. He stated simply. This is something we can practice over time. It takes true focus and patience. But as Keeper, Chip would certainly know that. He didn't need his subordinate telling him how magic worked did he?

If only that were the reason they were truly here. If only he cared about what knowledge Xochipilli gained. But you should really be careful Chip. He flicked his wrist against and the blood tangled and swirled in a different pattern, dripping now over his hands in a controlled flow. Magic has a price. He twisted his hand suddenly, sharply. Chip's blood would start to heat....and it wouldn't stop. He would boil alive on his own lifeforce. He would choke on that self righteous, preening, solitude he seemed to crave. It would be his last memory. 

Eyes blank, Cara stood from where he sat. Beg for mercy, ask me for forgiveness. Arm stretched, his hand formed into a claw, as if he was clutching something. Rather as if he might try and close off the air from the Keeper's lungs. Beg, and you might be fucking spared. Darkness closed in around them inside the hut where the day around them shined clear. He moved from behind the table, snaking around with inexplicable ease towards the taller man. Go ahead, Xochipilli. Ask me. He leaned down, hand tangled in the curls in a vice grip as he whispered into his ear like a lover might in the height of passion.

Chip was attentive, this could have been a real lesson. Everything seemed to go well until the statement 'magic has a price'. This was something he knew, all too well. And his confusion at it was quickly replaced for pain. His blood was racing. Heated. Too hot. And Cara... wasn't Cara. Not in this moment. The eyes were different, and the actions were a dead giveaway. Who... the fuck are... you? He growled the words, hissing through his pain. And as soon as the body's hand was in his hair, he groaned at the tight grip to salty curls.

Damn, that'd be hot if it were his companion.

His hands pressed against his lap, nails digging into flesh, and the harder he pressed, the harder the body behind of him would find it to breathe. All of the water in the body was gathering in the lungs, a retaliation; though how long he could retaliate, he wasn't sure. He didn't want to kill Cara. But he wanted to get rid of that fucking pest. Ca-ra. You have to stop this. He wouldn't beg nor plead with the unnamed spirit; but his lover, trapped in that body with whatever monster he'd inherited when the Veil went down?

His vision was blurring; gods who knew that your blood could hurt so fucking much? And yet, Chip was relatively quiet. A man less experienced with pain might have been screaming. I need you to regain control. He sounded calm, if you ignored the quiet hisses of pain that left his lips every few seconds. The way his skin was red, splotchy, in some places burned. His body couldn't catch up with healing itself; blood coursed through every inch of Xochipilli, and even an elves advanced biologic healing was at a loss.

His best bet was getting through to Carasson. And that's what he focused on, even as he leaned forward, resting against the table in front of them for support. He'd been too trusting; he knew he should never give anyone access to his blood. That was the first rule of blood magic. But it was Cara... or it had been Cara. He trusted that man with his heart, his life, his family and his clan. His spell was weakening, he was not the one in control. As much as he played that role in their dynamic...

Not this time.

Unbridled pleasure raged through him. Better than any lover, any vice, a sensation that rocked him to his core with waves of satisfaction as his fingers twisted and clenched, blood dancing streams along his fingers in a grostesque, somewhat primordial claw. It's me, Cara A hiss into his ear again, overly exaggerating simpering as he allowed for the spell to continue wreaking it's havoc inside of the other man. And I cannot wait to watch you choke on it Keeper. A low growl as he smiled. Sound familiar? He taunted, just as a retaliating hand pressed against him and he started to stagger on his feet. 

He fell back several paces, spell still active as he bulged his eyes open wide and clawed madly at his throat. It was as if he was miles beneath the surface, trapped without air, water filling his lungs, roaring in his ears and finally a pink hued wave from his mouth as blood and water burst forth, far more than he reguarly posessed in his body at any given time. Violent gasps filled the space around him as darkness ebbed into the corners of his vision. 

Clever, clever Keeper.
 
He hacked, bent over now, his focus waning but still intent in even the smallest way to remain in control. Blood was after all, thicker than water. He looked up, pointing a finger square at the other man so he might see, eyes burning between them. It was a death promise. Xochipilli could not and would not survive under his watch. And you need to-- He doubled over again, a renewed wave of suffocation hitting him, bursting out of his mouth, his nose, darkness wrapping tighter. 

And then it all went black. 

His own power subsided the spell broken. 

He was prone, lifeless on his back in the middle of he room. Silence. Silence save for the distant whimpering of someone desperate for control of his own body again. They were calling out a name. His name. Carasson!....Cara! closer  and closer but still too far for it to matter now. Rapid footsteps. The body belonging to the voice was running. Cara!!!..... Listen to me!!! 

And suddenly he was gasping for air, staring at the ceiling, hands grappling at his throat in muscle memory of those last moments.

Unable to speak, to respond, he put everything he had into maintaining the spell that would suffocate the body from the inside-out. The longer the spirit held the blood spell, the darker the world in front of him became. Blood dripped down his face, from his nose, his eyes— The Keeper glared at the man, wheezing himself. But then, the power over him was broken. Chip sat at the table, breathing raggedly, his head in his hands. Fingers tangled into curls, as he let himself rest.

Just rest, a moment. The magic he'd done isn't what had done him in, but the attack against him. The physical and emotional toll of being attacked by someone he cared for... His breathing hitched, momentarily lapse, before he was once again staring at the table, watching his own blood drip slowly, slowly, slower still. Eventually, it stopped. His body was slowly healing, catching up where it could. He was silent, as his breathing began to ease, and his vision became clearer.

He stayed put. Xochipilli was not sure what to do. He couldn't leave the body here and risk that monster unleashed on his clan. He couldn't tell anyone; who would believe him that the First was... unwell? What could he say that wouldn't sound insane? Who would listen? He had credibly among his clanmates, but this... this was something he wasn't sure anyone would believe. Maybe... Inala? Or perhaps his daughter? He was lost in thought, trying to figure out what to do.

Eventually, the body on the floor stirred.

And he trembled in his seat, waiting with baited breath. But he knew, deep down, that the spirit had been in control for some time. Or perhaps it was messing with his head. But his own spirit hummed in agreement; it believed whoever that was that had attacked them was the one usually in control. Which meant even if the man waking up on the floor sounded like Carasson... It wasn't for certain. And whatever Cara knew, the spirit knew too.

Fingers massaged his temples, as he warred with himself on what to do. Some dark part of him, the same part of him that wanted to be drunk right now, briefly considered finishing the body off. If it was dead, problem solved. But without the body, there'd be no Carasson. And his heart ached at that thought.

Who's there? The words sounded hollow, his voice hoarse. Every inch of him hurt. It'd take days for him to heal completely, without aid.

His body was cold. Dark, cold and ruined in ways that would never be right again. He couldn't say being back felt good because it didn't. Being back felt like putting on a wetsuit one size too small. Moreover, there were so many gaps in his memory that it was hard to pinpoint what reality he'd risen into. At the moment, everything was clouded. Namely his vision, stinging with a recent strain, no doubt blood shot. His throat too, thrummed with pain as he continued to suck in bellyfulls of air so that he might be able to move from where he lay sprawled on the floor. He was yet unaware of the bloodied water around him leading back towards something...someone else that sat at the table looming over him. He could feel the presence but had not turned to study the details until it spoke in a graveled tone. 

Heart rate gradually slowing but still rapid, Carasson blinked. He turned his head as if in slow motion. What he saw horrified him. It was Chip. But it was Chip as he might look in a nightmare. Covered in blood, whether his own or otherwise, Cara didn't know. Cara didn't know anything, could hardly put his fingers on where they were at the moment. His heart raced anew as considered what a bloody Keeper meant for their clan. That there was any threat that might render Xochipilli to that, chilled him to his core. 

His chin wobbled as he dropped his head back center, tears immediately welling in his eyes. Something was so terribly wrong here and he felt so utterly hopeless. Not to mention that sinking feeling like this was somehow his fault. ...Chip...I... His voice cracked as he tried speaking. He coughed. He was moving again, turning on his side so that he might roll onto his fours, towards the other man. What happened? He asked, desperate for an explaination. If he could will his body to heal faster he would but the fact that it was slowed to this rate? Now that was truly disturbing. Meanwhile the question from Chip had failed to register with Carasson.