Threads of the Soul

After a few more minutes of playing with his new toy-... I mean, testing his new skill in a very serious and robust manner, Seth retrieved the arrow and removed his connection from it. After all, the arrow wasn't his and it's not as if he was starving for weapons to use.

He could always 'borrow' another one of Corvus' feathers and simply fly that about as his go to weapon until he found something of his very own. But when he returned the arrow to the slimy archer, while gleefully telling her in hushed tones all about his new discovery, she proposed an unexpected counter offer.

"Give me your arm."

"Alright. Just be careful though, it's the only one I've got left and I want it back when you're done with it."

Chuckling softly at his own terrible dad joke, which gained the appropriate response of an exasperated eye roll, Seth held out his hand as if he was about to give his friend a simple handshake. As Cynthia clasped his hand and began to do… whatever it was she was doing, Seth's mind wandered to the odd feeling of touching her. It reminded him of their first encounter, where she had leapt on him as if she was actively trying to suffocate him.

He hadn't given it much thought at the time, because of the whole suffocation and sudden attack thing, but she was strangely cold. Her hand was soft to the touch, completely forming around his grip with no resistance to its form, and had a sticky feeling to it yet left no residue where it made contact.

It was very much like those children's toys, the goo that all the parents and guardians loathed because it would always end up being tossed onto a wall or a ceiling or that would be used to contain small, rubber aliens. Man, children's toys were really strange.

Whilst Seth was lost in a rabbit hole of a lost childhood and useless thoughts, Cynthia was focused on something more important.

From within her gelatinous body a tide of ink stirred, flowing within her before seeping out of her non-existent pores and completely dying her hand black.

It was the sight of the blackened ink which finally knocked Seth out of his thoughts, as the ink moved from Cynthia's hand and flowed over Seth's. Crawling its way over his hand and up his arm, until it began to dive into his flesh just underneath the bend of his elbow.

Retrieving his hand from the handshake, Seth lifted up to his eyeline as he examined the new marking on his forearm. A tattoo of a peculiar symbol, much like the others he had acquired throughout his adventures. The whisper in his mind only confirmed his suspicions.

[You have been transferred the Requital, Kiss of Death]

Summoning the Requital, Seth found himself holding a familiar dagger that was already in a sheath that could be tied to his armour, a convenient feature that many weapons came with if the user wanted it. Sometimes it was better to have your weapon on hand, after all, rather than hoping you can summon it in time.

The weapon in his hand was Cynthia's Dirk, a 12 inch long double sided blade that she received from the two faced ghoul. The one she had saved him from and then helped him kill.

'Why does she get a cool weapon name and I get the "Ratreat"? Life just isn't fair. Either that or a certain someone takes pleasure in annoying me with puns. I can't imagine where they picked that up.'

Angel stayed suspiciously quiet in regards to his internal monologue, but it wasn't as if he was unaware of his own influence in the matter. It couldn't be a coincidence he was paired with something that enjoyed making just as terrible jokes and giving just as awful names as he did. But ignoring made him feel better about it, so that is what he chose to do, placing the blame solely on Angel for the dreadful names. Either them or some cruel god.

"You're giving me your dagger? Why?"

"Well, I don't need it anymore. It sounded like you could do with something new anyways. Plus, maybe if you have that on you next time then you won't have to rely on dumb luck to survive."

"Regardless, Thanks Jelly. I really do appreciate it. I didn't even know you could transfer stuff between people like that."

"Yeah, someone in the base camp figured it out. Useful for equipping your hunters. How do you think I got my grubby tendrils on this?"

She held up her bow briefly before dismissing it, letting it melt into her gelatinous body. Seth let out a low chuckle, before focusing on his new weapon. Just like he had done with the arrow, he attached his threads at the important control points of the dirk.

As soon as the final thread was attached, the same rush flowed through his body confirming that the connection was indeed successfully made and that the arrow hadn't been a one time fluke.

He quickly confirmed that it could be drawn from its sheath and properly controlled in the air, before promptly returning the weapon back into its sheath. As he was tying it in position, diagonally on his belt so it was hanging at his lower back, he gestured over Cynthia's shoulder with his chin.

"How's our guest doing? He took quite the punishment from those things."

"He's still alive to say the least… But I have no idea if he'll survive the night. He lost a lot of blood to the goblins and it's not as if we can suck it back up from the ground to pump it into him."

"Yeah, Whilst I can't do that for him. I may still have something to help him out, I'll just need a little assistance first."

He reached into the borrowed pouch he had hanging on his hip, pulling out a pair of plastic water bottles. At first glance, one might think that both of the bottles were completely empty but on further inspection you might see that one of the bottles had a small dredge of golden liquid at the bottom. Just enough to fill a shot glass or two.

"Hey, drippy. Give me a hand, would you? I need you to fill these up."

Jogging over to the knight in glistening golden armour, Seth held out the bottles to the lost member of that blue man group with an expectant look in his eyes. The valiant knight, at least that's what he was in his own mind, simply gave him a strange look at the nickname before holding out his hand.

Much like when he had filled up Grey's hole with water, the air suddenly began to feel incredibly humid. Yet the sensation fled as quickly as it appeared as droplets of water started to manifest themselves in the air. Flowing like a river through the air, the droplets slowly filled up the water bottles.

One of the bottles was filled with crystal clear water, while the other had a golden hue to it, looking more like freshly made iced tea.

The appearance of the concoction confused the knight, but since the one armed man seemed to be expectant of such an outcome he thought it would be best not to comment on it.

Placing the crystal clear bottle underneath his arm, Seth shook the bottle containing the mixture of water and the healing dew, hoping that it was diluted enough to not cause the same euphoric reaction as he had but still potent enough to heal the man's wounds.

Speaking of, he observed the man's condition as he slowly approached with his newly brewed potion in hand. The man in question haven been laid on his side in the classic recovery position. Perhaps someone was worried he would choke on vomit or blood, or perhaps they were just using their limited medical knowledge to make his last moments as comfortable as possible. Judging by his condition, Seth assumed it was the morbid latter.

His back was torn to shreds, quite literally, it was hard to find even an inch of space on his back that didn't have a mark. While many of the cuts were short and shallow, the sheer number of them made it look like they were trying to use his flesh to write a novel on pain.

The man himself was deathly pale, much like Seth had been when he was standing on the threshold of death's door, yet there was not a drop of blood in sight. All of it had been stolen by the Hemogoblins floating orb.

Seth knew the man's pain well, having no doubt that this man would be having delusions of his own or perhaps that his life was flashing before his eyes.

Kneeling beside the tortured stranger, he glanced at his face to see if he was lucid but only found his face twisted in pain as he slept. Yet despite this, Seth spoke to him. His voice soft and tender, whispering each word to let it drift into the man's dreams.

"I've got a gift for you, friend. I'm going to make it better, don't you worry. Just relax."

Slowly but surely, he began to drizzle the diluted dew across the man's carved flesh. Making sure that not an inch of his back was missed as he gave the man his medicine. Once every drop had been used, Seth placed the bottle down and sat back to watch with hopeful eyes.

For a moment, nothing happened. It was just long enough for Seth to wonder if there wasn't enough of the dew left in his watered down potion, but the moment that worry entered his mind he saw the miracle take place.

The man's face, which was twisted in pain, quickly relaxed and was replaced with a content smile as he let out a blissful sigh. The horrifying tapestry of cuts across his back began to scab over. They didn't stitch themselves back together or immediately close up like he had hoped, but they quickly clotted and began the natural healing process at an accelerated rate.

As a hint of colour crept its way back to the man's face, he muttered softly as he traversed the land of blissful dreams.

"Thank you… Santa…"

'Santa? Oh… I guess it is Christmas time. I completely forgot…'

"Heh, You're Welcome. I wish you a full recovery and a Merry Christmas."