It's So Beautiful Over There

[Nichatus]

Nichatus breathed a sigh of relief as Jenica announced that she did not know how to enact the change. The world had been rescued from another morbid, disgusting display by the woman's own ignorance. He turned to Pont to display his relief to the other man, and him alone.

Then she had to go and ruin it. She had to ask him to find the method within her memories. He ran a hand over his face to hide his dismay. If he refused she might likely decide she no longer needed him, she did seem random enough in her actions to do that. If he agreed and didn't actually go into her mind she would know. Concentrating on him as she would be she would be able to sense his presence in her mind, and she might even be able to detect or even relive the memories he was peering in on.

No, there was no hope now. "I can try," he said with another sigh, then closed his eyes and began his work.

The woman's mind was still chaos, but since his efforts at restoring it it had become much more manageable. Instead of being forced from one place in her mind to the next and having to view only what her rabid subconscious offered he could pick and choose what he wanted to see. Bits of childhood that hadn't been buried by years of psychosis, the memories that had driven her to burn her hand, and, finally, her last memory untainted by undeath.

Jenica stood before the creature known as Belatucadrus. He moved closer to her, sinking his fangs into her flesh even as she protested mildly. "Wait..." He did not slack up in the least, continuing to drain her of everything. Back in the real world Nichatus swooned slightly, his own heart beat slowing along with that of the remembered human Jenica. He wildly shoved the memory away as he sensed the danger he was in.

Then the world slowly began to spin. There was an arm pressed to Jenica's mouth and Nic could taste something similar to blood, but not quite the same. Was this her first feeding? Deeming it useless he shoved it aside and crawled onward to a new memory. Back in the grave with dirt surrounding. Again the dirt filled his every sense. With some mental grumbling he pushed off again.

Suddenly his midsection burst with pain. That sensation alone blocked all others. Sight, hearing, smell, taste. None of it came through to him, completely blocked out by the tearing feeling in his lower abdomen. It felt as if someone were removing his organs with their bare hands.

He tried to pull away from whatever memory this was, but it would not release him. It pulled him back in. It was almost as if the pain were a living entity, craving a new and weaker person to impose its self upon, and unwilling to let it's prey get away so easily.

Nichatus released a ball of mental energy into Jenica's mind, like a slap directly to the brain, tearing himself away. The woman would probably feel some pain from it, but at least he was free now, and stumbling back away from her.

He steadied himself and stared into those black eyes, shining in the little light available at that late hour, understanding another piece of what had driven her to becoming the thing she was now. A hand slid up under his armor and shirt, still feeling the pain, and he winced once his fingers made contact with the area the sensation had been centered. A web-work of raw, sensitive welts and moisture where some of them had actually broken through skin.

[Jenica Sabiny]

She did not notice the near-excitement of the creature, focused entirely on the mage after her question was posed. She did not know if he could find the requested information, but she could not do it herself, and asking him to try meant very little to her.

Though, when he agreed to do so and then began sifting about, she tensed. She'd forgotten for a moment how he'd broken her before; now, with him already inside, she remembered. She remembered how he'd made her hurt, and keep hurting until he fixed it later. She remembered how tired he'd been, unable to fix her immediately. She wanted him back outside where he belonged, away from her memories which he wreaked such havoc on.

A sudden snap inside, and she flinched and raised a hand to her forehead, releasing a quiet whimper of fear. If he'd broken her again...

She shifted through her own mind desperately, looking for the cracks or signs of damage. It was all roughly the same as before, and she returned her focus to the men surrounding her. And the creature.

Pont was giving the mage's back a very odd look, shifting his eyes between vampire and man with speculation clearly written on his features. She looked to said man and tilted her head, puffing out her chest for the necessary air to speak.

"What did you see?"

She could not scent his injury. The creature's stench overrode any sense of smell she might've otherwise had.

[Maxwell]

The mage did not refuse - a good thing. Farnham watched the pair idly, as whatever it was that had come over him a moment ago faded back into the dusty corners of his mind. It did not seem as though a whole lot was happening, but Farn was well aware of little knowledge he as a baker had about the methods of magelings and sorcerers. Folding his arms across his chest, he looked to and from the mage and the woman - whose name he still did not know - occasionally glancing over at the third human. He figured that man was an ill-treated slave, or something. The man looked emaciated, and seemed to be frightened more or less all the time. Somehow, nowadays, being afraid of death or pain seemed like the last level of banality. Yes, Farn could certainly understand those emotions - he'd been human, himself, and had known the fear of death from time to time. Still, his existence had been good, because most days he could forget about loss, pain and death and simply live. This man before him had not been so fortunate, it seemed. If sympathy had been an option, Farnham might have given him some. As things were, however, that man was not even lucky enough for that.

Realizing that he was once again caught in a mental ramble, the zombie shook his rotting head and turned to the mage, who seemed to be feeling his stomach. Unfazed by this strange behaviour, the baker's apprentice took a step forth. That woman had clearly asked what the mage had seen, and Farn wanted dearly to know just that. "Well?"

[Nichatus]

Nichatus glared at the vampire. He knew it was not her fault what had happened, but he could not help to seek out a physical target for his frustration at the pain he had felt. Briefly, ever so briefly, the thought of lashing out at her passed through his mind.

No, he thought, and began to calm himself. It would not do to give in to such base desires when they were squarely aimed at a creature that could turn him into nothing.

"Nothing of any use." He removed his hand from beneath his clothing and wiped the small trace of blood onto his pants. "Your sire biting you, your little time of living burial, your first kill, and.....pain."

[Jenica Sabiny]

She huffed. Pain was inconsequential, he didn't need to mention it as part of the sight-seeing. The endeavor had failed, leaving them no closer to finding a way to help this creature or discover the contents of the vial.

An alchemist found chemicals. They played in liquids and solids, making reactions and discovering why they happened. They mixed and measured. None of the group present could do such a thing, but Pont knew where an alchemist was. The delay had been a worthless venture; impatient and ready to leave, the vampire waved a hand to the still-retching human and began walking.

She assumed the males would follow, and moved slow enough that the incapacitated Pont could easily keep up and over take her gait. He took point and she followed as an obedient puppy would its master. If she took any irony from realizing that she had been following someone else's lead to nothing for the past few years, she did not comment.

She was curious about the creature's state of being and search for a cure. It wasn't a vampire, but it was still a corpse. If something could cure it, perhaps she could be cured too - no, not cured. That was the mortal's term, reverting her to a disease-ridden mortal. No, it would not be a cure. It would be a shift. The vampire would be expelled, leaving only the woman behind.

Inside a living body. Alone. The idea scared her, down to her core; she was used to being physically alone. But in the end, she wasn't sure she could give up the shadows as well. They were permanent fixtures inside her head, voices she'd come to know as friends and compatriots. If they left her...

Still, being a human again would have its merits. Actual human company. She glanced at Pont, then back to the mage, and realized this was not something she lacked. Human company could be had, she just needed to not kill all those she encountered.

The body would be weaker, not healing as quickly and unable to overwhelm foes as she could now. The hunger would be gone, replaced by the constant gnawing which humans felt to protect them from starvation. And drinking. Pont's dehydration had reminded her that humans needed water for more than cleanliness; they depended upon it for basic survival.

Food, water, further loneliness and weakness. Those were what being human would bring. But warmth, too. She hadn't ingested the draught gifted to her and didn't quite remember what it had felt like before. But she remembered that her first impulse had been to fight to keep that warmth. She'd been ready to do anything for one more second of not feeling the oppressive cold she lived in each moment. Would that relief overcome all the other drawbacks of mortality? Would she find herself thrust into a mortal's game of dominance once more, constantly vying for the superior position which made no difference to inevitable death?

She couldn't have possibly voiced these thoughts; she couldn't remember how to express herself or her opinions beyond pain, either receiving or giving. She didn't think hurting the creature would get her point across, and he couldn't feel pain besides. But if he survived, perhaps she would find herself with a talking head. If nothing else, it would entertain her.

Could they be fixed? Or only him? Or was she the lucky one? Would she truly choose to become human again, in spite of all their ridiculous flaws?

She dipped her head to toss a phrase in his general direction, puffing her chest before speaking.

"Think you can fix?"

It was wrong and she knew it, but she didn't know how to clarify her meaning. She looked to the mage for help, considering him the crowning jewel of mortality among the four of them. Pont continued a steady and painfully slow shuffle towards their goal.

[Maxwell]

Nothing. They had the ability and they had the will, but they lacked something so insubstantial as knowledge. Well, Farnham had been prepared for that... truth be told, it was a tough job surprising him even if he weren't prepared for something, nowadays. Still, it was distracting, and he did not even stop to consider that the mage had ignored him and only spoken to the vampire. The dead baker turned his attention from the magus just in time, as she, the vampire in question, motioned for all of them (or was it just for him?) to follow. Turning his feet right along with his attention, he ambled on in her trail, as she did not seem to want to wait for the rest of them. At that point, Farn made an observation. The starved wretch was the one leading the group, and Farnham found that very unexpected. He did not seem like a leader-type person, and so it could only be assumed that the other two were forcing him to show them something. Wait, they were headed for an alchemist - they'd already told him that, and he'd already forgotten. Assuming they weren't lying, this man was leading them there. Forcing him to do so could not be an overwhelming task for a vampire and a mage - it all sounded very simple. Farnham was suddenly awakened from his ramblings by the vampire.

"Fix?", he asked. She seemed to have some sort of speech impediment, or maybe she was just mildly retarded... or grossly. That could explain what she was doing with a mage - perhaps he controlled her? An impressive power, to be certain. Either way, he was not certain how to answer the creature. He did not understand what she meant, but he hesitated to ask, as there was always the risk of angering her. Still, that risk was probably greater if he chose to remain silent. "I apologize, but I do not know what it is you ask if I can fix".

[Nichatus]

Nichatus watched Jenica curiously as he strolled along at her side. She seemed lost in though, barely paying any outward attention the the three men around her. He was curious as to what she was thinking. Was she angry with him for not finding what it was she sought? Was she frustrated with the situation? To satisfy himself a bit he skimmed along the surface of her conscious mind, refusing to go any deeper into that labyrinth unless he had to.

Thoughts of humanity. Thoughts of life and death. None of them were strung together in a visibly coherent way, but he supposed that she knew how to sort her own thoughts into order, how to pick out which ones went together and what order they flowed in. So when she looked at him, pleadingly in some small way, he barely knew what to say.

"I am not sure what you ask either, Jenica, but I would assume," he said this last casting a glance in Farnham's way to indicate that this was for him to hear, "that she is asking if you know whether you can be returned to life or not." He turned back to the woman, eying her for a moment to see if he had gotten it right.

[Jenica Sabiny]

She snorted to indicate he had, which did not truly communicate what she was trying to say. But she felt the need to elaborate. She clenched her jaw and drew her brows together, thinking hard of how to say what she meant. The basic idea had been voiced; now the conclusion needed to come.

It couldn't hurt to try again. If they were going to laugh at her, they would've already.

"If...can fix. The body. Think it can fix?"

It wasn't much of an improvement, but at least she had tried.

[Maxwell]

Farnham shrugged. There was no way he could know whether his condition was curable or permanent. This was a matter of course to him, naturally, but it was true that these two might not be aware... or didn't he just tell them that he didn't know. Did he? "I have no idea whether or not I may be cured, or resurrected, or whatever you would call a return from this state. I would hope so, though, and that is why I will search until this body no longer moves. Uh, well, that is to say, hopefully my search will not take quite that long, but one must prepare for the worst", he said, deciding to reiterate in case he hadn't told them before... in which case it wouldn't be reiteration, but that had nothing to do with it. Answering seemed to help little, however, as the vampire woman just kept on asking. Yes, she was obviously either unhinged or dropped as a child. Whatever the case, it would not do to simply ignore her question, just as it would not do to ignore a dough with excess yeast - both could spell trouble if left unattended for the shortest time. He was uncertain of how to make her understand, though, and so he raised his voice a slight and spoke slowly and clearly. "I do not know".