'' It'll be fine... Just hop in for a few minutes... I won't die... ''
Standing before a river of the thick molten orange-and-teal fluid rich with primordial energy, the youth breathes in the heat despite caution gnawing away at his nerves like a blaring security alarm. Every instinct screams to run away, to turn back and flee before Aunt Lord of Crossroads alerts the Pyro Archon to his Bakunawan presence in her dominion, yet scientific curiosity holds him in place. To burn in the liquid form of Primal Flame like the Exalted Heretic, even if for a mere moment, is daunting to consider.
The Abyss recoils at the computronium before it, reviled by the scorching Permanence that matches its will. A natural response, given the risk of annihilation and core weakening if he steps into the magma-esque substance. A deep breath, then a hiss and an agitated roar as gray meets yellow. Wading in despite the searing agony across his melting legs, the youth dry-heaves from overlapping signals of intense, persistant pain firing across every nerve even as they dissipate into the Phlogiston.
Rendered speechless from the sheer torture, Abyssal instinct kicks in to preserve the vessel wielding its power. Blackened wings flap extraordinaly fast, ashes of feathers crumbling as the remaining torso raises from the thick melted rock and computronium with a wet pop. Crashing into a nearby rock wall, skin yet uncharred scrapes on stone as the Abyss ebbs into partial dormancy. Dark crimson blood spills onto the dusty mineral, massive wounds endlessly laying forth a carpet of morbid uniformity.
Slowly, ever-so-slowly, bloodflow comes to a stop as legs and feathers begin to regenerate. Far slower than usual for the dragùa, yet still faster than any human ought to recover from such a traumatic event. Minutes pass, then an hour, bones rebuilding from scratch with a faint shimmer of stars in the warm light. The light from the 'bright' black 'sun' above shifts, muscle and arteries and sinew rebuilding around mimetic skeleton along with illusory cloth, a generous offer of dignity after such a terrifying 'experiment' upon himself.
It's only when the Frost Moon's kuuvahki blesses the cavern below that the Vogelprinz blinks, nictitating membranes a shield against the intense heat's daring attempt to leave his eyes weeping for hydration. Rising to his feet, a hand upon the stone wall to keep him from collapsing or emptying his stomach contents, the alchemist waits for his body to fully recover while mentally noting everything he remembers before the Abyss took over self-preservation.
Healing reduced, likely the interaction of computronium and Abyss-devoured Eternal and Iridescent moonlight. Void Core is weaker, and nausea persists. I need to devour Breacher Primus Cores to recover, but rifting into Elynas from Natlan would be too draining at the moment. I feel my lower limbs needed Abyssal reinforcement to reconstitute, both a problem and a blessing. Much to document...
