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Balthazar Black
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Posts: 2105
Joined: Fri Jan 18, 2019 1:15 am
Race: Human
Profession: Leader of The Black Cats
Renown: 1815
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Cut Open


20 Ashan 721


Throughout the season, the dreamwalker had one dream that came back to him, over and over again with only small variations. It was not every night, but it was frequent enough. It was never long but it stretched his whole night. He dreamt of the trial he died, over and over again but it was never so vivid and haunting as it was on the night of the twentieth of Ashan, one trial before his birthtrial when he'd have to reflect greatly upon himself. It always began a few moments before the end, he was standing at Immortal's Tongue with Syroa before him. She'd appeared, she'd said things, he'd tried to be confident. He was terrified. He didn't want to show it. Oddly enough when he dreamed of himself now, he dreamed of the man with short dark hair and dark eyes, not the mage with long white hair and golden eyes... though he dreamt of mutations at times.

Keep breathing, stay calm, don't give her what she wants. Three simple thoughts repeated over and over and over again inside the mind of the mage standing before the Immortal of Fury. When her claw dug into the side of his head and drew blood, he began to experience a sensation vary similar to overstepping. He tried to wiggle his fingers discretely but found them refusing his command. His legs gave out beneath him and Syroa caught then cradled him like a child in her arms. It was strange because it was both demeaning and a little frightening. The loss of control over his body was bad, it meant he could not fight her but what could he have really done anyways? Syroa danced, wildly flailing the mage around as an unnatural desire for her churned inside him. He knew it was unnatural but that did not stop him from feeling it.

She was the Immortal of Lust and when she wanted someone to want her, they did. He couldn't move though, he couldn't touch her. He tried to think about anyone other than her but his thoughts kept snapping back to the immortal dancing with his body as if he were some manner of doll. He could feel the sensation coming back to his hands and feet slowly but what could he do? Their dance came to an end before Balthazar could think his way around the situation he was in. She admit she did not like his statue. She did not like it and it made her furious but given that was one of her domains, what did not make her furious? He supposed if he'd done a better job it might have made her lustful but who could know? In the dream, it was easier to ponder than it had been in the moment.

She claimed he ought to have been more fearful because he'd angered her and had a hand in spreading the rumors of her demise but he did not agree. It didn't matter if he agreed but he did not. He was afraid, but he would not show her. He would not give her that much. If she did not want the rumors of her demise to spread, she probably shouldn't have faked her death however he wouldn't say that. She leaned in and whispered into his ear, "This is your end, you realize that?" as if it were a question he could answer. It was chilling as the dream as it had been when he was there but Balthazar never lucid enough to realize he was dreaming during these nights. Strike now, strike hard, make a portal. But feeling did not translate into coordination. He could move his limbs, but he could not quite form a solid fist. Syroa pulled back and Balthazar thought there might be a few more words to draw out his time. A few more trills to get feeling back and strike... but there were none. He never had enough time. She smiled and his brow furrowed in defiance as her claw opened his throat.

Balthazar! Fuego's shock superseded Balthazar's as his neck opened. His eyes widened for a moment due to the sudden and surprising pain in his neck followed by the strange wetness seeping down it onto his shirt. His neck burned. His mutations tried to seal the wound but it was too deep and Balthazar was still there. His hands had curled into fists but he couldn't move. He couldn't breath, he gargled blood when he tried. His legs were weak already and buckled, the mage falling into a kneeling position. Numb hands found his throat and tried to stop the bleeding but the cut was deep enough to do what Syroa wanted it to and his mutation was not sealing the wound fast enough. Turn it into- no... no. He couldn't focus with his throat opened. He doubled over one hand holding his bleeding throat and the other holding him up for few final trills. Fuego kept screaming his name, asking what was happening, asking all sorts of things that seemed to blur in the background as more and more blood left his body and filled his lungs.

The worst part was how long he could hold his breath. He tried to hold it, he tried to think his way out of it, and he never did. He looked up from the ground at the smiling Syroa through angry, dark brown eyes and then collapsed. The dream went dark around him, it seemed to swirl and shift as the figured that had been were dissolved and new figured emerged as if through a thick mist.

Bellinos formed around him, or a shadow of it that seemed more than real enough for the dreamer. He hadn't seen a wealth of marble in his life so he had no initial comparison point for that which he saw around him. Massive, complex architecture and pillars to support it. It was beautiful. He sat up on his knees with his throat still opened and blood still spilling. He could breath now but each breath felt wet and everything he touched was marked with red. His eyes were drawn from the marble to the blood on his hands and the ground around him.

A soft voice coming from behind cause the mage to nearly jump out of his skin every time. He always turned to find a pleasant looking woman with long golden hair and pale skin looking at him. She sounded sad and looked a little morose as well, but Balthazar did not know if there was anything he could do to help that. He looked terrible and it must have hurt her to have to look at him. The woman had greeted him and introduced herself as Anaza. Every few trills his hand seemed to subconsciously reach up to his throat to find the wound still there but no pain connected to it when he touched it. Anaza seemed to recognize the lingering concern as she approached him. She apologized for what had happened to him and said it would be no small burden to bear the memory of it.

He wanted to hold out his hand to shake her's but he didn't. The moment his hand slipped away from his neck he stopped and it slowly found its way back to where it had been. He wouldn't want to get blood on her white dress. It was best if he just stayed where he was. As she moved closer, he moved a little back. Anaza had introduced herself as Vri's consort and champion, the fact that Balthazar hadn't known either of those things prior indicating to him he needed to do a little more reading. Then he considered the other thing she had said. It would be no small burden to bear? Was this not the end?

He didn't know if he was happy or saddened by that. He didn't know what to feel about anything at the moment. Surprise was settling into shock and shock would fade into numbness. A familiar voice boomed from behind Anaza and Balthazar took another step back as Vri emerged from the shadows behind his consort. For someone with no Domain over shadows, Vri sure liked to come from the dark. His patron confirmed that he'd have to carry the memory and the lesson that came with it. They both would. Vri looked sad as well but he was always sad. Balthazar was not certain it was possible for him to change that for Vri.

Vri expressed his thoughts. Their deal was no longer working and he admit that he felt partially responsible for what had happened and the dream only seemed to blur further. The pillars comprising the room faded into a thick white mist that consumed Vri's champion and as soon as Vri said he would not be bound by their deal, and the he needed to show true devotion, the white mist consumed Vri and shifted suddenly into darkness that engulfed Balthazar. There was never anything after that. He sat in darkness with his neck opened, alone, until he woke from the dream.

word count: 1556

Visible Mutations/ Marks

Mutations
Defiance: Skin always glows faintly and he is warm to the touch. His is also the center of a field of static electricity so people get shocked touching him on occasion.
Rupturing: Orange etheric cracks spider-web up his arms to his elbows. His eyes and the glowing cracks going down his cheeks glow dark blue.
Transmutation: He has a series of emerald, glowing cracks on his right pectoral.
Marks
Bellinos: His fingernails are always black. The color fades into his fingers.
Celarion: A dim glowing ring surrounds his left forearm.
Palenon: A silver lightning shaped mark about the size of a hand stretching up towards his torso.

Scars

  • Oops, Oops, Ouch: Balthazar Black has twenty scars across his back from a lashing as well as scars on his hands and arms from jagged rocks on Faldrass. There are two scars on the sides of his abdomen from being stabbed and a slash across his back which blends in with the whip scars.
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Re: Cut Open

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Balthazar

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This is an interesting thread. I do appreciate your choice to do a dream thread about an event that traumatized him. It sounds like a scary event.

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XP: 10 can not be used for magic
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If you have any questions or concerns regarding this review - drop me a PM.
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