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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 26, 2008 1:57:53 GMT -5
Technically, he was supposed to be resting.
And technically, he needed to be. He looked thin, haggard and there were shadows underneath his eyes like smeared grease paint. He could barely walk, could barely do anything, as almost everything required your middle section. Imagine that.
But every second he laid in bed was a second wasted, and a second he remained ignorant and the demon inside him grew stronger, preparing for a comeback.
Night Terrors were a strictly off-topic, dangerous territory, and it was proving to be something of a challenge to even find something that mentioned it. And he hadn't even attempted to touch the scrolls yet.
He tugged out a another book, flipped through it and in twenty seconds, deemed it useless and shoved it back onto the shelf with enough force to cause pain to shoot through his stomach.
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Post by redtopaz on Feb 26, 2008 2:19:12 GMT -5
She'd been minding her own business, happily immersed in the Headless Battles of the 1400's --lots of angry Nightmares, small amount of space, and sharp swords; a time honored tradition-- when he came in. At first, she'd been content to ignore his existence with the same fastidiousness she did everything unworthy of her recognition. That was until he began slamming books around. Dren glowered at him from over the edge of her leather bound text. Honestly, October was going about this all wrong. In her day, the library had never had visitors. It had been perfectly and clandestinely silent.
The boy slammed another book into the shelf and then winced, grabbing his side. Dren looked up. She paused. She hadn't been paying much attention before, but... what was he doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be under four feet of blankets with his disaster-inducing family around him? She rolled her eyes. This was impossible. The best way to get rid of him, and follow up on that nagging curiosity, would be to help this moron find his book since he was obviously card-index challenged and send him on his way.
"Ancient Evils? Nightmare Artifacts of Mystical Significance? What are you looking for exactly? You do know none of the truly dangerous books are kept on the shelves, don't you?" she began, looking over his title selections with scorn. It looked as if he were pulling books at random.
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 26, 2008 2:29:11 GMT -5
He startled at the unexpected voice, turning (slowly, mind you) toward the source. The voice had sounded severe, the kind like you always imagined Miss Trunchbull to have, and the green eyes glaring at him weren't much better. He paused, very sorely tempted to be intimidated by this girl a foot shorter than him and probably weighing as much as his bow.
"I wasn't aware, no," he said, wondering if she sharpened her eyes the way you did a breadknife. He slid the two books in his hand back onto the shelf self-consciously. "But you know," he prodded, trying to sound non-chalant.
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Post by redtopaz on Feb 26, 2008 2:40:13 GMT -5
Dren scoffed. "Of course I know," she said, and suddenly understood with startling clarity the expression 'foot in mouth'. Had she just volunteered to assist this half-wit in his attempt to reorganize the library? Dren frowned. Well, she couldn't say she was entirely uninterested. It wasn't everyday you got to ask one of the royal family first hand about the going ons in the castle. It was probably far more interesting than getting the fourth hand account from the literary sham called a newspaper.
"So, what are you looking for?" she begrudgingly asked. If she was lucky it might have something to do with the recent earthquakes. If it turned out he was looking for one of those silly mythical items that so fascinated the boys nowadays, she was going to push one of the shelves over on top of him.
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 26, 2008 2:46:45 GMT -5
Armand let himself smile inwardly, feeling like an adventurer that had stumbled upon a rare and priceless treasure.
He also determined it would be a waste of time to mince words. "Night Terrors," he informed her, his voice inflectionless and betraying nothing. "In detail."
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Post by redtopaz on Feb 26, 2008 3:28:21 GMT -5
In detail. Ooh. Just the way Dren liked her subject topics. Perhaps she'd been overhasty in calling him a half-wit.
"You're in the wrong section. You wont get more than a general overview from these," she said, making a sweeping gesture toward the surrounding shelves. She turned on her heel and began making her way toward the back of the library.
"Reference Room, Rare Books Section," she said, entering a door labeled 'Employees Only'. She had a Crown Prince in tow. She didn't really think there'd be a problem. Not that restricted access had ever stopped her before.
"Night Terrors aren't natural creatures. Like Mirages, they're created from an ordinary being such as a Nightmare or Dream who goes through a metaphysical alteration caused by an outside stimulant. For instance, there's an alloy that, if touched, 'purifies' the holders Nightmare qualities. Some believe that the ingestion of this alloy forces the body to undergo a transformation and the intensity of said transformation drives the being insane." She paused for breath and to pull a particularly musty book off a shelf and hand it to Armand.
"Be careful, that's fragile. Personally, I think the insanity sets in long before the body changes. I'm a great fan of psychosomatic nature, you understand. I also think it takes something far more complex than the ingestion of a mineral to completely alter a Nightmare. It would have to... welded right into their being. Which is impossible. It's most likely that a Night Terror is a Nightmare suffering from a mental infliction who after slaughtering their own kind views themselves as a terrible monster and the body accommodatingly alters itself to fit their mental image." Another two books of the shelves and into Armands arms.
"Anything else? You'll have to be a bit more specific with what you want to know," she intoned.
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 26, 2008 16:38:54 GMT -5
Armand trailed silently after her, taking it all in. He didn't have a choice but to be ginger with the books being loaded upon him. Anything else was painful. Ingestion of an alloy forces a Nightmare to undergo a transformation. Obviously, that had been what Alexander was hoping for. Alexander seemed to have done his homework.
He studied the next part in his mind. A mental infliction? To his knowledge, he been morally sound, and for the most part sane when it had happened.
"What if it wasn't impossible to have it welded to their being? What if they were... born as one."
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Post by redtopaz on Feb 26, 2008 18:35:24 GMT -5
Dren stopped in her book browsing to turn and consider him. Born as a Night Terror?
"Like I said, it's not widely believed to be a natural occurrence among Nightmares. Only the most eclectic of theorists have ever held that it's something one can be born with. And how would one go about welding an alloy into their physical self in the first place?" Dren picked up a decent sized book and weighted it in her palm, examining it.
"If I were to beat you with this book you would neither retain it's information nor develop a red leathery hide. If you were to eat it, you would likely have sever indigestion. There is no way to 'absorb' this book into your being but by reading it. As far as I know, there is no way to 'purify' Nightmare attributes but maintaining skin contact with this alloy..." Dren tapered off, stooping to give Armand a long look. She had been about to reiterate that welding or being born a Night Terror was impossible, but something about the way he asked the question had piqued her curiosity. Dren set down the book.
"It's impossible, of course, but hypothetically... Well, then there are two possibilities. The individual is certain to become a Night Terror with maturation or their Night Terror... 'gene' can be triggered by an outside component which then initiates the change. What leads you to believe a trigger alloy can be welded into a being?" she asked, turning toward the shelves in an attempt at disinterest.
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 28, 2008 23:05:38 GMT -5
His stomach plunged with her last theory. He wasn't sure if he understood the exact concept of an alloy, or what, exactly, an alloy even was. But he did comprehend that according to this girl (and he was inclined to believe she knew exactly what she was talking about), then he was a walking impossibility.
"Well, then, hypothetically of course, if they didn't mature into a Night Terror, and an outside component triggered it, then there would be no way to... live separate from it? Or is a merge, or full transformation, I suppose, inevitable? Er. Hypothetically."
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Post by redtopaz on Feb 28, 2008 23:44:49 GMT -5
Dren sighed, bored with the 'hypothetical' run around. Pretentious allusions were worthless and she had never been in the habit of sparing others feelings.
"I can't tell you. No ones ever given a testimonial as to their 'transforming into a Night Terror' experience. You seem to be doing a decent job of holding it in check at the moment. Your either going to continue to hold it in check or it's uncontrollable and you'll transform regardless. Personally, I think if you convince yourself you're normal your mental processes should affect your physicality. For a time, anyway.." Dren paused, her brow furrowing. She reached for one of the books in Armand's arms, snatching it from the top of the pile. After flipping through a few pages she seemed to find what she was looking for and smiled.
"There is one way to prevent the transformation. Apparently, you can pass it to another causing the transferee to transform in your place," she said, turning the book around so that Armand might get a look. "Three recorded cases and 'three' makes a pattern," she added. She snapped the book shut, placing it on the table and crossing her arms over her dark green shirt. "So how'd it happen?"
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 29, 2008 15:28:20 GMT -5
She was a bit unnerving, though he wasn't necessarily surprised that she knew, as it was becoming fast apparent that she knew everying. Still, she couldn't even warn him with a faux look of surprise or enlightenment first.
He sighed, trying to hold in his misery, but it was hard. Giving it away was clearly not an option. He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy (though, he was sure his brother would be happy to take it off his hands).
"Mask of Death," he muttered in way of explanation, running a tired hand through his hair. He eyed her warily. "Thank you...." For not freaking out? For actual knowing something? For not looking at him with pity? "....for helping me. What's your name?"
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Post by redtopaz on Feb 29, 2008 20:55:50 GMT -5
"Oh, that thing," she said thinking back on the feel of the smooth white surface. "Wasn't it destroyed?"
Dren, who had failed to register any kind of astonishment when she'd unmasked the 'hypothetical equals Prince' euphemism, seemed genuinely perplexed when he asked her name. She wasn't in the habit of having people ask her for it. She usually just told them if she thought it worthwhile.
"Erm, Dren," she said at length. She considered the Prince with an anxious eye. Should she ask who he was? She already knew, naturally, but wasn't it considered socially polite to ask someones name... She really couldn't remember. It was all so bizarre, having to ask a person's name when both parties already possessed the information. Dren shifted nervously and decided to air on the side of caution.
"You?" she managed in a small choked utterance.
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Post by Miss Jack on Mar 2, 2008 0:24:04 GMT -5
"There were fragments left over," he replied darkly.
"Armand," he told her, with a small smile. She seemed somewhat uncomfortable, and he imagined she already knew he was. Though, if it weren't for her apparent intelligence, he wouldn't have known it. She didn't treat him like glass, or scum, and he was accustomed to both.
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Post by redtopaz on Mar 2, 2008 10:29:14 GMT -5
"Yeah, well, Nice... ern, Nice to meet you," she mumbled, glad to have done with the awkward 'socialness' of the moment. She'd wanted to say 'If you die can I do the autopsy', but she had the feeling that most people didn't say that upon first introductions.
"And you magically melded fragments of the Mask of Death into your physical being, how?" she probed. If he said he'd ingested them she really was going to beat him with that book.
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Post by Miss Jack on Mar 2, 2008 23:40:27 GMT -5
"No, no," he laughed a little. "The fragments were sealed, and only by a complicated ritual were their powers to be released. But since the host for the powers, the Mask, was broken, releasing the power would require it to find a host. My b---- the person that unleashed the Mask of Death, so to speak, was hoping that since his skin was in direct contact, it would embed itself into him. Instead, it found a Night Terror that was merely dormant."
He paused and had to rub his temples for a moment. "At least, I think. To be perfectly honest, the whole thing confuses me. Combining the experience with what you've told me, I believe that's what happened."
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