Finished wit cutting off the four paws, Verin rubbed the blade along the wet, thick grass. It didn't clean off all of the blood, as it was not suited to the task... but, he thought, neither had the blade been suited to the task of hacking off the wolf's paws. Re sheathing the dagger, he glanced over to his brother to watch him work on his own task, wondering what he was supposed to be next doing. Then, the younger of the Rush Twins spoke, and Verin had to stop him with a question immediately. “Zap-Zapatl? Is that another word for Malediction? Oh... the Ancient Tongue?”
As Venser continued to speak, the elder brother gave him his full attention, nodding whenever Venser paused to check Verin's understanding, which wasn't very often. He had to admit that Venser's teaching style was a bit rushed, as if he expected his impromptu student to already have an understanding of the basics of the magic, which wasn't the case. Verin did, however, manage to keep up, and he could tell that Venser, who was clearly knew to the concept of teaching another, was altering his normal jargon to help Verin learn.
It made sense that it would be difficult to manipulate the remnants of the wolf's Djed; Verin had first hand experience at Hypnotism, and knew that it took time, practice and a lot of effort to manipulate a person or animal with his own personal magic. So he saw no reason why this shouldn't be different. The unpredictability, however, was disconcerting to the elder brother - he liked it when his life was ordered and he was prepared, and didn't deal with change very well.
It was probably one of the reasons the brothers clashed as much as they did: Verin had no idea what was going on in his brother's mind half of the time, and it frightened him to know that he had no control over the more capricious, even volatile, of the two brothers. It was for this reason that he couldn't see himself falling in love with Malediction, or even progressing in it like Venser had, but he was grateful for his brother's kind tutelage, and would capitalise on the bonding session, so he said nothing.
In another, surprising, link to Hypnotism, Venser stated that the more explicit and in depth the story was, the more true the Legacy would be. In an everyday situation, Verin had a way with words, and was competent enough to know that he could achieve far more accurate results by speaking in the Common Tongue, rather than Nader-Canoch, where many words had multiple meanings and could be interpreted in too many different ways. However he had never been any good at telling stories, and he frowned, dreading what product he would end up creating. “How does one know what the result is, brother? Through testing? And what if the Legacy has a... less than desirable effect? Can it be changed? Can you... re-maledict it?”
The question was blunt and poorly phrased, and Verin was embarrassed at how stupid he probably sounded. He continued to watch as Venser all but punched holes into the wolf's teeth. Verin imagined that he was going to find a way to tie them together.... into a necklace or something. And then he watched and listened as Venser began to carve letters onto each of the teeth as he spoke the story that he knew of the beast. It was a tasteful tale, Verin thought, one that spoke of battle and strength. But Verin, as one who had killed the beast, and had witnessed another side of the wolf, found only one word that spoke to his heart.
At Venser's direction, he unsheathed his dagger again. It was entirely inappropriate for this task, but it was all he had available right now, and time was of the essence. It would be crude, if it even worked, but he know his brother would be pleased that Verin had even tried. Turning the paw on its side, Verin chose one of the middle toes, upon the longer bones he would write the word.
“With strength you fought, and perseverance you tracked your meal. For this, the last meal, your prey was stronger, and outnumbered you. You were hungry, or you had cubs to feed, it matters not, but you fell to my brother's blow, and you succumbed to my magic. Whatever you were in life, we will never really know. But, though assisted, I can only remember that it was dignity with which you died...” And, with each sentence of his poorly crafted, short story, he carved those letters out, drawing the script in an attempt to make the writing elegant, though it only came out as an uneven scrawl. "Dignity."
