What type of daemon? Titus frowned, his lips pressed so tight that they were white. “I… didn’t get a good look at it,” he admitted. “It was big, hiding under the pile. It had… a tentacle.” He didn’t dare look at the other man when he said it, half expecting Pelna to glare hard enough that it might actually set him ablaze. No one liked being reminded of Ultros, least of all Pelna. “She killed it,” he nodded to Celene.
Despite how painful the leg looked, Titus didn’t flinch or make a sound as the good doctor touched it. Pain like that was nothing to him, that much was obvious by the fact that he’d been walking on a break and hadn’t collapsed. Then Pelna’s expression shifted, and he pulled the curtain closed. Titus also glanced at Celene before throwing caution to the wind. What was one more person knowing the terrible truth? Besides, it might finally convince her that she didn’t want him living in the same building.
He had to carefully pull the cloth away from his skin as he removed the shirt. His body itself was covered in scars, old and new. But what was really noticeable was the way his skin looked black and inky from his collar bone all the way over his left shoulder and halfway down his bicep. The scourge.
The darkness had grown since last time Pelna had seen it, nearly a year ago. An inch, maybe. Not very much, but also too much. When would it consume him? Would it need to take all of him, or did it just need to reach his brain? Or his heart? If the latter, his final days couldn’t be far off.
a tentacle ... breath stilling in his lungs for a beat, the glaive was forced to blink hard, a fleeting image barging its way through his thoughts before he pushed it back down again. well, he’d asked the question – couldn’t blame the guy for giving an honest answer. and an answer that was lacking of any other details than that ... gods, all this time, all these years and he still couldn’t shake it. he hadn’t said ultros – it could have very easily been a malboro sprout, one of those wraiths too. either way, it had been a high ranking daemon, and regardless of what it was, there was no evidence of venom or poison, just a severely broken ankle.
which was now the least of their worries.
dark brown eyes flitting over the marbled blackness, pelna was sure he’d heard the rapid breath of a gasp lodging itself in the blonde woman’s throat – like ink dropped onto still water, the pattern was a tie-dying effect as the scourge worked its way along the uninfected skin – it had grown. he knew that because it had coloured the scar on titus bicep an ebony where once the old wound had marked the borderline between healthy flesh and scourge.
an inch a year, with limited use of the armour. He recalled titus using the armour twice in that year, so that counted three times including this haphazard hunt. leaning back on his chair, pelna kept his voice low, still acutely aware that though the curtain he’d pulled offer some modicum of privacy, it certainly did nothing to lend itself to sound-proofing.
‘ how many times have you used it? that time with fortis, when you saved asha and now this hunt? ’
