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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
01-14-2023, 10:06 AM
