09-08-2014, 06:12 PM
Elias paled at the old man's palm. It wasn't sanitation that worried him.
Before he could change his mind, he was the first to strip the skin apart on his own arm. He did it around the back of his forearm, a few inches above the wrist. The idea of a palm wound made him want to cringe. Hands were man's greatest tool, and while Tony promised a healing, the idea of momentary vulnerability did not sit well with Elias.
His cringe soon transformed into focus as he mixed his blood with that of the meat. Why cold, uncooked meat would satiate a river spirit he did not dare ask. But it seemed logic was not on the forefront of the old man's priorities this day.
Yet there had been something in the water. They would soon return there and, if all worked out, they would see the thing again. This time, it wouldn't get away.
As they left the house, the old man seemed satisfied with what was coaxed from pulsing veins, but the faces of the men who followed were varying mixtures of annoyance. All but Tony himself. Elias watched him as he fell in step alongside each of them in turn. They all looked up to Tony out of respect rather than coerced loyalty. Envy pulsed behind the levies of Eli's heart, but he shut the emotion down cold as Tony finally joined him.
Eli pulled up his sleeve as they walked and offered out his arm. The wrist beneath was slender and pale. He was too lean compared to the more robust and healthy young men of his age. Suddenly the gauntness to his eyes fell deeper inside his skull than the illusion of eyeliner should otherwise allow. It wasn't the sickness of winter where the sun was long absent from the vitality of human flesh. Nor was it the distance of a quest that went unfulfilled. There was something more profound, like a plague of the spirit rather than the body, that afflicted Elias. As he watched Tony Heal him, he doubted very much that the other man would be able to remedy it.
They could speak on it later, if Tony brought it up. For now, the group had returned to the river and each filed along the bank, ready to offer their sacrifices. Elias kept a sharp eye for the shadows beneath the freshly wind-swept ice.
Before he could change his mind, he was the first to strip the skin apart on his own arm. He did it around the back of his forearm, a few inches above the wrist. The idea of a palm wound made him want to cringe. Hands were man's greatest tool, and while Tony promised a healing, the idea of momentary vulnerability did not sit well with Elias.
His cringe soon transformed into focus as he mixed his blood with that of the meat. Why cold, uncooked meat would satiate a river spirit he did not dare ask. But it seemed logic was not on the forefront of the old man's priorities this day.
Yet there had been something in the water. They would soon return there and, if all worked out, they would see the thing again. This time, it wouldn't get away.
As they left the house, the old man seemed satisfied with what was coaxed from pulsing veins, but the faces of the men who followed were varying mixtures of annoyance. All but Tony himself. Elias watched him as he fell in step alongside each of them in turn. They all looked up to Tony out of respect rather than coerced loyalty. Envy pulsed behind the levies of Eli's heart, but he shut the emotion down cold as Tony finally joined him.
Eli pulled up his sleeve as they walked and offered out his arm. The wrist beneath was slender and pale. He was too lean compared to the more robust and healthy young men of his age. Suddenly the gauntness to his eyes fell deeper inside his skull than the illusion of eyeliner should otherwise allow. It wasn't the sickness of winter where the sun was long absent from the vitality of human flesh. Nor was it the distance of a quest that went unfulfilled. There was something more profound, like a plague of the spirit rather than the body, that afflicted Elias. As he watched Tony Heal him, he doubted very much that the other man would be able to remedy it.
They could speak on it later, if Tony brought it up. For now, the group had returned to the river and each filed along the bank, ready to offer their sacrifices. Elias kept a sharp eye for the shadows beneath the freshly wind-swept ice.