359 CHPT 359: History, Foreshadowing, Artistry....

The forest was silent. Even quieter around the treehouse occupied by two Druids and a Berserker. So silent that even the birds had fled long ago. So silent that one could even hear their own heartbeat...that is when there wasn't any screaming loud enough to deafen even the most sensory deprived individuals.

***

"SON OF A BITCH!!!!"

"Tsk tsk! Monsieur, you are a warrior with skin even thinner than moi.....that is no good. How about a swig of the divine spirits, beast of beasts?"

"How about hell no! Hurry up, dammit."

"Hm. How about we question why we all thought it was a good idea to let a drunk blind man give you a tattoo using braided roots dipped in blended sticks and berries.....AT NIGHT?"

"Drunk Druid!" Claude and Rollan snapped, correcting Ursula's assessment of the man despite their previous bickering.

Ursula's eyes flashed a shade of glacial blue, "Ok. So how does that justify any of this?"

Rollan's face lost it's drunken looseness and went hard with focus, "Madame, it means.....I have knowledge directed by purpose...and bolstered by philosophy. I am not blind, and this is not a stick. This is my scriber, bound and born from the earth where it is strongest, no? Hm. And these....this ink is more than simply berries and oils. This is many aspects of nature-- many aspects of that which is natural-- once naturally living, naturally flourishing, and naturally dead, all being laced into shape-shifting flesh. Binding him closer to his power--"

Shlck!

"F--FUCK!" Claude snarled as the fang punctured his flesh again, pouring magic infused ink beneath his skin for the thousandth time. Beads of sweat rolled down his arms and dots of his ruby red blood studded the accented curves and lines of the inking running down his arm.

Rollan had been at it for a couple hours, but it felt like an entire day with how long he'd been clenched tight with pain. The sun had long since set behind the desert and mountains beyond, leaving the continually expanding moon to light their grounds. Fitting for a Moon Druid some would say....

"So, it's meant to connect him more deeply with his Element?" Ursula asked, seemingly able to ask the vague Druid all the right questions for two hours straight. A feat Claude couldn't dream of pulling off.

Rollan nodded, sending beads of his own sweat flying as he punctured more of Claude's skin, "To his Element....to his Ancient Oak.....to that which is natural."

"So where's yours?" Ursula asked, as sharp as ever.

Rollan's face somehow went harder-- reminding Claude of when the man spoke of his old friend named Lilith, "Much like my eyes, Madame, many of my natural processes are....a bad mix-- some would say, hm?"

"Like your m-- AH.....dammit!" Claude attempted to join into the conversation only for the fang to jab deep into a portion of his arm with less thick skin and muscle.

"Yes, Monsieur. Much like my Mana." Rollan answered his unfinished question.

"What is that...like a disease?" Ursula asked as she sat across from him with a hand on Claude's shoulder in an attempt to hold him still.

Rollan nodded, "Some would call it that....or an affliction-- for that matter, hm, yes. A sickness born from the fear and callous curiosity of man. Two factors that will always lead to failure for the other...."

Even Ursula's keen mind and social capabilities couldn't help her decipher what any of what he said meant. Not that she wanted to speak. The warm and fuzzy aura of drunkness was entirely gone, leaving a hard and intense anger to pour out of his movements and overall demeanor endlessly.

He was silent, undeniably present, focusing on Claude as he drove his ink-filled scriber into the Lupine's skin. And even so, she felt like he was roaring at her-- swinging and punching with everything he had. The complete switch between what she felt from him and what she was seeing was enough to make her head spin.

Before she could get up to leave though, he was off the ground with his bottle in hand. She never even heard him move.

"Keep stirring the ink, girl. I need a refill, hm?"

Ursula shakily rose up from her seat and moved over to sit on Claude's right side where Rollan previously was.

As soon as she sat down and eyed the Druid's handiwork on Claude's arm she almost couldn't stop her jaw from hitting the floor.

"How is it?" Claude asked, facing away from his right arm with his shirt over his eyes by Rollan's command.

"Well.....it seems he was right. Being blind, drunk and working at night didn't affect his skill in the slightest. Speaking of drunk, it's literally not humanly possible to sober up that fast unless you accidentally walk in on two dragons having sex or something..."

"That does sound.....well I don't know how that sounds. It's that unheard of, huh?" Claude said, painfully trying to adjust the positioning of his right arm that felt tight-- and heavier.....like it was being pulled in all directions but up.

"Yes. My father used to throw giant parties at his Estate....he was known to drink the most. And due to his talent with his Fire Element, he could burn off pretty much any negative affect in seconds. Rollan just sobered himself in the blink of an eye..."

"...And he doesn't use fire." Claude finished for her, realizing just how odd such an instance was.

"All that aside, I must've really struck a nerve."

"Yea. There's only a few things that get him like that, and they're all connected to his past....which I know very little of...maybe even less than I thought."

***

When Rollan returned, he was back to his usual self-- for the most part. And in no time, he settled back into the flow of repeatedly stabbing Claude's skin too deep to even make sense all in the name of art, nature and power.

By the time it was done, Claude could barely believe it....and neither could Rollan since he'd seemingly just woken up from a nap.

"Rollan....what the fuck!"

"I couldn't tell cause....well...blindfold...hehe.." Ursula added shyly while trying to mask her slight panic.

"Erhm....uhhh. It appears the spirits took me for a while, no?" Rollan said while he adjusted his blindfold.

"Spirits my ass....I just hope you didn't mess up. I don't think I ever want to do that again. Tattoo's from Fenrir and Demons are much simpler." Claude replied, mumbling the last portion as he rose from his seat, stretching his tired muscles and sore skin. It felt like his entire arm was one giant burn.

"Here..." Rollan said, tossing him a bottle of moisturizing oil for his freshly tattooed skin. Skin that he was able to look at for the first time.

Ursula was right. It looked masterful. Despite what he felt, the tattoo started at his wrist, a collection of symbols that undeniably looked like tree's with root's snaking down to his palm where the familiar celtic knot resided, framed and adorned by smaller markings before the roots wrapped around his hands and began snaking up around his knuckles and up his arm. More smaller markings and wordings bordered the thick roots as they ran up the outside of his arm in four parallel lines, stopping only to wrap in tight ringlets below his elbow once, above it and at the bottom of his shoulder. In between each circlet, a collection of indescribable words and symbols occupied the space. The roots never stopped, snaking around his shoulder muscle where they bordered a piece of art that looked like an animal eating the moon.

Only, he didn't know what animal was from it's vague side profile. It had the head of a wolf with ram horns and unnaturally long fangs studding it's open jaws where the crescent moon sat plainly against his skin.

"What the hell is that?"

"I....hmm...I don't remember drawing that, Monsieur." Rollan said flatly.

"...Beast of beasts...?"

Claude's head snapped to Ursula after hearing her thoughts through their pack bond.

Ursula shrugged, "Just an idea."

Claude looked back to the design of the creature on his shoulder, "Maybe..."

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as his eyes scanned over the remaining bits of roots that rose above his shoulder, splitting the four roots into two with one group blooming into something similar to bushes over his chest while the other did the same at his back. Once again bordered by wordings and markings he knew little of-- aside from the massive celtic knot resting in the center. He didn't even remember having his chest worked on....

"Well, how does it feel?" Ursula asked.

"Eh....doesn't really feel like much at all, just hurts...and feels kind of heav--"

FWOOM!

Before he could finish his words, he let his arm down and immediately felt that familiar pulling weight grow exponentially, yanking him to the floor in seconds.

Like metal to a magnet, his hand slammed to the forest floor-- only this connection wasn't magnetic. It was something more...

A fact he realized the second his palm hit the lush grass, causing the new tattoo's to glow while the grass around his palm grew and thickened, blanketed his hand in it's nature as if it were attempting to swallow him.

All while it was happening, he could feel his energy growing-- filling his entire being until all he could see were the green flames of nature and the distant sounds of the people he was once standing beside.

He could feel himself growing to the point of worry. It wasn't right-- wasn't natural. To take so much and give nothing. That was not his relationship with Nature, that was not why they'd become bound together.

Reflexively, he leaned into the pull of the grass and vines that now coiled his arms, pressing his palm into the earth to give back what he'd taken.

PWOOSH!!

His vision returned following an explosion of green energy that sent shockwaves ripping through the forest far enough to fade out of sight.

Silence remained as he sat in undeniably longer grass.

In a panic, he ripped his arm from the ground and it's natural hold on him. He stood up and found Rollan looking as relaxed as usual-- if not a little more energized.

"Hm....Moon Druid indeed....something was very...ehh..different about that one, hm?"

"Rollan, what the hell was that?" Claude asked.

Before he could get an answer from the senior Druid, Ursula spoke.

"I.....I'm healed."

Claude's head turned to look over at the Berserker standing beside him.

Much like she said, she was healed. The swollen eye and litany of cuts that marred her flesh were gone-- merely red lines on her tanned skin that held a healthy radiant glow under the shimmering moonlight.

"I did that?" Claude asked, slightly stunned.

"Indeed, Monsieur."

Ursula looked up from her arms and legs, "Claude, you can heal....."

"I'm a healer...?"

"You're a healer!" Ursula said, the Lion Hide she wore shook and writhed with a level of intensity and excitement that matched her own.

....

It took a few seconds for that fact to process as she stayed still.....and the Lion hide cloaking her moved.

Ursula froze soon after, cutting their celebration short as the faint smell of fear oozed from her healthy skin.

"Why is the hide moving....???"