Tock's Inquiry

[Anselm]

Anselm, who was not one to be easily taken aback, was taken aback as he watched the expression on Tock's face go through several variations, finally settling on some bizarre marriage of cold, scientific examination and flat out sexual desire. It was ... disconcerting. “Well,” he said when she finally pronounced the sailor truly dead. “Let's get his clothes off and get him ready for the ritual.” They straightened out the corpse and used Anselm's bloody dagger to cut the clothing off his body. Then Anselm began to draw the runes. He did not know how he knew what to draw and where to draw them. He just did. He guessed it was somehow built into his unconscious mind as a kind of instinct, like birds navigating their migratory highways. It was the same every time. He drew a small one on the corpse's forehead, followed by one on each hand and one on the bottom of each foot. He drew larger ones over the heart and navel. “Ready?” he asked. He didn't wait for an answer. He stripped off his own clothes and lay down on top of the corpse, head-to-head, toe-to-toe. He forced the dead man's mouth open, opened his own mouth and brought his lips together with the dead man's lips. Then he waited. After a while a thick white liquid began dripping from his mouth into the corpse's mouth. The dripping gradually increased, both in volume and in speed. The Nuit was transferring his ichor into the corpse. A bell went by. Then another. And another. Finally Anselm exhaled, a neat trick for a creature that doesn't breath, and his body went limp. His soul had “jumped” from the old body to the new. “Umph,” said the dead sailor, struggling to get out from under Anselm's previous body. He stopped struggling and turned his head sideways to stare at Tock's shoes. “My dear Tock. If you would be so kind as to assist me. I appear to be stuck.” The voice was obviously Anselm's but it had a different timber to it and was less gravely, although he still managed to sound a bit like an asthmatic having an attack.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

OOC"...some bizarre marriage of cold, scientific examination and flat out sexual desire. It was ... disconcerting." This is my new favorite description of Tock ^.^ Still filled with dark urges that hadn't yet been sated, Tock watched as Anselm started drawing the needed runes. She recognized their meaning from her studies of Glyphing, considering she used many similar ones in her Animation work. Still, she made sure to memorize the specific combination he used. While the ritual for body transfer was no doubt different from the initial creation of a new Nuit, there were bound to be similarities. "Will it not work what wit' clothes on...?" she asked as they stripped the body. Her face reddened as she saw how fine Calvin looked with his clothes off... perhaps it was disturbing for her to have such thoughts about a dead man, but she HAD just had that very body pressed against her, hands probing her, desire coursing through the both of them... It was rather difficult for her to shake off those feelings and desires. The thrill of the kill only made it that much stronger. Tock very briefly realized that there was probably something deeply wrong with her. She immediately forgot the thought, however, and focused her attention back on the matter at hand. After all, it seemed like she wasn't the only disturbed one in he room. Anselm suddenly got very intimate with the body, which, considering his current state of decay, was quite a sight. She watched intently, reactivating her Djed flow in order to study the transfer process. The numbness from overgiving started extending past her fingers and into her hands, and her mouth started feeling cottony. Hopefully this wouldn't take long; she wanted to be able to observe the whole thing before she overgave too much. When time started to drag on, she realized she wouldn't be able to maintain an Auristic study the whole time. So she cut the flow, and for the next two or three bells while the transfer happened, she just waited and rested. About every half a bell she pushed the power back out for another quick scan, then cut it short to conserve her energy. Finally, when the last step began, she concentrated hard on the body, watching as the shimmering aura of the Nuit's soul poured into the fresh corpse like a rainbow from a pitcher. It was quite interesting... the soul didn't quite 'fit.' The Astral Body of Anselm's soul wasn't quite a perfect match for his new form. Like wearing clothes that had been tailored for another man. Unable to withstand any more, she cut off the Djed flow and rubbed at her blurry eyes. She felt quite exhausted, and her earlier arousal was quite thoroughly gone. Which was just as well, since it wasn't like she wanted the fortune teller to try out his new body on her (though she had a certain scientific curiosity about whether he 'could'). She knelt down and tried to get her numb fingers wrapped around the old body's form in order to pull him off the new Anselm, but she had a bit of a hard time. It took some struggle for her to push the corpse away and free the Nuit, after which she sat flexing her fingers in order to try and get some feeling back in them. She was idly aware that her butt felt numb, the sensory depravation making her feel like it was asleep from sitting for too long. But she ignored it. As she rubbed the life back into her fingers, she nodded to the corpse and asked, "If'n yer done wit' 'at, mind if take it 'ome? Wanna cut 'er open, see what she's like. Check 'er ta a normal corpse, see whazza diff'rence..."

[Anselm]

OOC : What!? She wants to take the body home with her? Yes, there is something seriously wrong with Tock. On the other hand, the phrase "the Nuit's soul poured into the fresh corpse like a rainbow from a pitcher" is nothing short of brilliant. I wonder if we've made a total wreck of Nuit lore now. *Sigh* Oh well. Anselm tried to get up but his muscles weren't following orders today. Tock helped him to his bed where he collapsed on his back staring at the ceiling. “It is colorfully like this,” he said slowly and thoughtfully, putting considerable inflection into his phrasing. “It will remove one or two weeks to sail my fingers again.” He paused long enough to frown. “But it appears that that is not the fruitiest of my bananas.” His face broke out into a big, toothy grin. “Tick Tock,” he said. “Do me a flavor. Fry the body. Clean the potatoes. Put on the carpet. Come back some time. Bye bye now.” He closed his eyes and lapsed into a coma-like state from which Tock was unable to rouse him. OOC : This is probably a good place to end the story. Or you can take the final post. Or we can fast-forward a week and have Tock drop by for a conversation with the recovering Nuit about "How To Make a Nuit," which conversation the two of them never did have.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

OOC : Yes, yes she does. And, thank you ^.^ I've been trying to incorporate more poetic imagery into my writing. And I'd say, we should end here, and instead of 'fast forwarding,' we can start up a new thread. Tock arched an eyebrow when Anselm started rambling. She made a mental note: the aftereffects of the transfer seemed similar to the signs of overgiving. That was an important detail that she would need to remember. "Aye, got it, mate," she said, taking 'fry the body' as permission to do with it what she wished. Since Anselm didn't seem to be in any condition to do anything right now, she took some time to clean up the blood and lay his carpet back where it belonged. Once the house seemed more or less back in order (at least, enough so that you couldn't tell a murder had been committed here), she grabbed a sheet to wrap up the body in. "I's git 'is back ta ya," she told the babbling fool, figuring he wouldn't protest her borrowing it. Once the corpse was nicely wrapped up, and after she rested enough to get the feeling back in her hands, she headed off to drag the body home for further study. She took back alleys and side streets, using the cover of night to keep herself as concealed as possible. It wouldn't do to be seen lugging a corpse through the streets. Luckily, after so many years of withering, the body didn't weigh anywhere near as much as a fresh one would, and Tock had been building some muscles with all of her recent construction work. To be on the safe side, though, she carried the body cradled in her arms as if it were a living person, rather than dragging it across the ground. On the slight chance that anyone spotted her, she could pass it off as if she were carrying a drunk friend back from the bar.

[Arcane]

Rewards and Treasure! Experience Points +1 Weapon: Dagger +1 Negotiation Lores Ansem's Proposition: Get Tock to Secure a Living Body Murdering a Man: Calvin the Sailor Tock's Reaction to Death: Mix of Scientific and Sexual Nuit Bodyhopping: Calvin the Sailor Miscellaneous Receipt Error (Ink and Quill): Should be -1.05gm instead of -1.5gm Comments I couldn't find much to award Anselm, though you could pick up a thing or two from Tock in terms of writing and details. I realized that I can't award Glyphing since the "runes" are part of a Nuit's racial ability to bodyhop, so it isn't applicable as a skill.