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WHO: Cassian and Sanzo in one, Cassian and Amberdrake in another
WHAT: DINNER TIME and A brief material run
WHEN: Shortly after Christmas, before the shops in Fayren close.
WHERE: Everglade and Fayren
WARNINGS: Gore, violence, mentions of cannibalism

4 SANZO
He'd gone too long. He knew he'd over extended himself, the gift he got from Tannusen could only last so long. Wheezing, stiff, the faint sound of flutes beginning to sound in the back of his mind, tonight had to be the night. He wasn't going to risk it all again, he couldn't. He couldn't keep relying on someone else here to patch him up every time he fell into shit.

He was a grown man. He could take care of this.

As it had been for two thousand years, the hunt was on. As it had been for two thousand years, the iron dagger found its mark, the husk soulless yes, but oh how they screamed like any real living thing would. Once, perhaps, he would have shrunk away from the sound. A long time ago, he'd be frantic to silence them, clumsily slashing at vocal cords and sobbing in fear and horror-

He knew how to work now, and the screaming was quickly silenced to pathetic, wet gurgling as the cloaked man snapped ribs with ease, feeling the rippling sensation of that thing pulsing in the back of his head, feeding his meager strength. Peeling the membrane off the heart. Sinking his teeth in and silencing the husk forever.

Blood everywhere. It stank of it, but the pain in his body and his lungs faded with every bite, even if it couldn't fully sate the beast. Just another bandaid.

But for now, it would do.
4 Amberdrake

Of course, Everglade wouldn't have the materials he needed. No one would stock in the type of silver he required, and he didn't even ask any shops there. Seemed like a good way to get a lot of unwanted attention. So, wrapped up in fleece and wool, cranky and miserable and cold, headed for Fayren.

They'd have what he needed, or at least part of it. He could always return home and finish blessing it all later. He had some energy in his step now, so the little man was going to be quite the obnoxious terror in Fayren, picky and fussy with everything he picked up, viciously haggling every single object down.

"I'll only be takin' pure silver, and not anything else. I don't want any steel or nickle in any of this- What else is in this mirror? Oi! Tis a real question, does it look like I'm foolin' with ye?"

Yeah. Not a good day for Fayren.

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Amberdrake couldn't help but smile a little at that. Yes, it was more than obvious to him why the two cranky priests were beating each other into the mud before things got more serious with the Sutra and the shotgun.

"Now I'm just curious, what would you trade?"

"I create enchantments, as ye now know. Amulets, charms and wards as well. Wards for home protection, self protections, amulets to improve wit or speed or intelligence, charms to keep away the dead or demons, spirits in general usually.

Seems like ye have to end up in Everglade every so often anyway.

Wouldn't do ye a lick of harm to have some magic zombie bug spray on ye would it?"

If it wasn't for the way Cassian clashed with Genjyo, Drake would have considered asking for something for the house, to whatever degree the priest felt settled the bill. But having them around each other...

Maybe with his supervision...

Probably better to just avoid it, much as he wanted something -- anything -- that would give Ukoku at least a little pause. His request on the network hadn't resulted in much.

"Well, you know what you're good at," he finally said, "I'll accept whatever you decide is fair, is that acceptable?"

He might be able to make something that would give Ukoku a reason to think twice before just walking in. Maybe. But that would require information first of course.

Still, he didn't press it, just nodding as Drake left it at that.

"Aye, fine. Seems like a fair enough trade to me."

He took a deep breath, a faint wheeze attached to it.

"... Then I suppose... we ought to work on the next step, aye?"

"Yes," Drake agreed with a smile. He was very accustomed to navigating around prideful priests, at least.

"I'll need skin access again," he warned, "I can work through cloth but it drains me much faster."

The quicker he was drained, the less actual work he could do.

"I guess ye can't just hold me feckin' hand, now can ye?" There's a dry grumble, and he goes to unbutton the first few top ones of his shirt, undoing the collar enough to get it open.

It's enough to reveal a few of many scars, and the top of what almost appeared to be a very, very old brand, the skin smooth and shiny.

He doesn't allow the rest of it to be seen though, gesturing.

"This good enough?"

"Yes," Amberdrake smiled a little at how edgy Cassian was about exposing skin. There was probably a sad reason -- or thirty -- behind that, but it still reminded him of a younger Sanzo. Ironically enough. Though perhaps less ironically, when one took the age of his soul into account... and actually, it reminded him more of Konzen, didn't it?

He slipped his hand in through the opening given, splaying his hand out. Not just fingertips, this time, but full palm contact. His eyes immediately went unfocused as the Healing Gift's other sight took over, Cassian suddenly a dizzying array of colors and temperatures, fluid and energy, tendons and veins and yes, lungs. He focused on the lungs. Healthy air sacs filled, looking like tiny bunches of grapes with each inhale, then deflated with each exhale. Bloodflow response, keeping the healthy tissue running and funneling oxygen into his blood supply...

Less healthy... well, there was a lot of that, wasn't there? Drake considered the structure as a whole, mulling over which area would do the most good to work on first. Emergencies and otherwise, he tended to be very precise about where he applied his energy. He was a precision instrument, a surgeon who'd learned to use magic after the fact.

Maybe later, much later, Drake might get a story as to why he hated showing any part of him. It could be a thousand different reasons, but for now his prickliness alone would have to tell enough of a story for Drake.

Most of the bronchi were... well, not in good shape. Some of them just starting to heal from being terrifically swollen, there were obvious signs of asthma just about everywhere- No wonder he'd thrown such a fit over Sanzo blowing smoke in his face. Scar tissue covered a lot, and there was ever still a lingering presence of pneumonia, fluid already very slowly starting to collect in the very bottom of each lung.

Cassian just fidgeted, unsure of what to make of the situation as a whole. After all, it didn't... feel like anything was happening right now.

"... So ye find anythin' in there yet?"

"Plenty," Amberdrake's unfocused eyes didn't... well, obviously, they didn't focus anywhere. It wasn't the physical tissue in use right now. "Signs of swelling, asthma, pneumonia. I'm just deciding where to start; just looking doesn't burn any significant energy."

The first step, he decided, was to get rid of that fluid. Prevent more damage, then attack old remnants.

"None of these are such chronic issues on my world, except in places where the Gift is denied. Thankfully, my earliest studies were in such a place." As much as the Chirurgeon's College of Predain had tortured and nearly killed him -- nearly made him kill himself, even -- it had, at least, provided quite the unique foundation for his lifetime of study.

"You already have fluid collecting for the next round of pneumonia. I'm going to get rid of that, first, and try to purge out the cause. It could be viral, bacterial, or fungi... I'll find it."

"Well least there's that, I guess." He wasn't really surprised to hear he had asthma, the pnuemonia was equally unsurprising. In all honesty he should have seen a doctor the moment they came out with treatments for both but when one lives through the era were healing someone meant pulling out teeth and draining blood and coffee enemas, one tends to be less receptive of medicine in general.

Still, the idea of getting the usual fluid build up out was a nice one. Better to start there than anywhere else, right?

"Aye, yes of course."

The lungs didn't have much in the way of nerves, but Drake shut down those nearest his work as a precaution, and began to burn the fluid out. Not literally burning it; there was no damage to the surrounding tissue, but consuming it with pure energy could still be pretty uncomfortable near a nerve.

Once that was done, he turned the nerves back on and began searching for the cause of the pneumonia. No fungi, no bacteria, that left virus.

"Honestly, your entire immune system is pretty much neutered," Drake mused aloud while he started siftng through the contents of Cassian's blood stream. Yet another thing he could help with, over time. One would think someone paused in their mid-twenties would be healthier! But apparently, no.

At least he didn't react to that. The only indication to him that anything was even happening was easier breathing, the usual, if faint, rattle dying away.

Almost completely compromised, something was keeping him from constantly getting sick. Maybe it was the potions and charms he'd worked so hard to perfect? ... Or maybe it was related to not aging. Well whatever, forge on ahead.

Abysmal white blood cell count, it was a surprise he had a functioning system at all. "Tell me somethin' I don't know."

Amberdrake laughed at that, just a little. He was so used to sour patients, honestly...

"Your accent is terribly charming," Drake could compliment anyone until the sun burned out, and with absolute sincerity. It was part of his gift as a kestra'chern.

"I'm a hick, mate." DENIED. If he was charmed, he'd decided to bury it for now until he figured out if he liked being healed or not.

"I thought this would hurt more, honestly..."

Amberdrake was undaunted. And pleased, by that little spark of a charmed feeling, however fast it was buried. "I can turn individual nerves off and back on as easily as twitching a finger," Drake said, finishing purging out the pneumonia virus. "And there's no pain receptors inside your blood stream."

Was the Gift a little bit terrifying when one thought about it? Why yes. Yes, it was.

"Well I know that." He'd read books before okay he's been around a longass time-

"So far this is pretty fairly decent. Not even a tingle."

"I haven't started on the damaged tissue yet," Drake warned, but then added, "but it shouldn't be much different. I wanted to halt the ongoing damage, first. If it comes back -- you are more prone, after all -- just come to me and I'll purge it out again. I just finished with that."

It really wasn't that big of a deal to play temporary immune system.

Now, for the older damage.

He'd picked his spot, somewhere where Cassian would get the most immediate benefit from having it fixed. Neighboring against healthy tissue, old scarring was only going to restrict that healthy bit of lung from doing what it could do.

Bit by bit, he started unraveling and re-purposing old scarred tissue, growing new lung in its place. Done in such tiny increments that the body would have naturally tried to grow it back, like muscle fibers repairing over time, but sped up a thousand fold by Drake's energy and guided by his Gift.

"Aye, well. I'll keep it in mind." Might not be a bad idea, if it continued to just crop back up. Which it would, he was sure. It wasn't like that hadn't been his life up until this point after all.

Didn't even hurt at all, to his surprise, he imagined repairing about two thousand years worth of scarring would be a little more traumatizing or something but-

The room flickered.

Cassian suddenly stiffened, his breath catching for a moment-

And the entire room plunged itself into darkness, pitch black and impermeable for seconds at a time-

Distantly, something seemed to rumble, or rattle, and the distinct sound of what sounded like bones starting to grind began to fill the room.

"Drake-"

The darkness was lost on Drake, but not the feelings involved. Cassian's reaction, and the frog's, both pinged off his Empathic shields and that alone was enough to make him withdraw the Gift, having regrown his current sliver and been about to move onto the next.

"What is..." okay, the sounds made him shut the Gift down the rest of the way, so that his eyes would come back to seeing the surface of the world.

Sanzo had told him about the presence he'd felt, of course. And the hearts. Whatever that thing was, it clearly wasn't anything good! Drake's shields snapped up to full strength, blinding his two Gifts in the process but also blocking the outside from getting in.

Again, the room was hurled into darkness, followed by not sound, but the absolute absence of it. Not even a breath, not even the thump of the pulse of ones own heart might be heard in it, as if for just a moment, reality itself was shut off.

Oh, but when light and sound returned, grinding had turned to screeching, what had once sounded like just distant squeals now changing to the violent wailing of flutes. It would feel so tight... so very tight in that room, as something, something big, something very, very angry, seemed to try and force its way in, unseen on a physical level but one could almost feel the sensation of millions of thick, fat tendrils trying to coil around everything.

Cassian, on his part, couldn't tolerate it. His eyes had rolled back, and he'd collapsed in a heap, even as a blazing yellow light rolled through the limp body, as if attempting to force each limb to move on its own accord.

The beating of massive wings, the sound of a voice, horrible and vile, whispering blasphemous, violent promises in a tongue that should never have been uttered, beings beyond time and space hammering against a wall that somehow would not break.

The room was being sucked into chaos by this entity, now barely seen in stuttered flashes as it tried to claw its way past the veil, blood colored wings attempting to stir a howling gale.

Even in the midst of this, while blood drained from Drake's face and his heart tried to escape his chest, Drake at least made sure the collapsing priest didn't go toppling off the couch and onto the floor. He could feel... something brush against him. Tentacles?

Really?

The King of White Gryphon hissed out a curse in his own tongue, and pulled the shielding ring from a hidden pocket in his robe, sliding it onto his finger hastily. Just a little Gods-crafted shielding to go over the top of his own. His body was in peril too, but it could be fixed easier than his mind!

He gripped his leg with one hand and the back of the couch with the other, knuckles pale under the strain, and just... endured. The instincts in all humans that told them to run from such horrors had been beaten out of him a long time ago, so he just stayed where he was, observed, and tried to keep the bile down.

Drake was one of the Star-Eyed's people. He would not be swallowed by the dark.

Wings beat against the air, seemed to beat against that barrier, and glimpses of the King in Yellow grew greater, grew longer, a massive, towering entity in yellow robes and an iron crown, its six wings spread and filling the room, the face hidden with a mask of clockwork and ivory.

The flutes, for one wild, terrifying moment, swelled to a thunderous crescendo, the horrific being almost seeming to linger too long, grasped too tightly to this veil...

Before with a scream, crumbled again. Those tendrils, invisible as they were, retreated, like a thousand slimy worms back into the hole they'd crawled from.

Back into the motionless, and once more wheezing form of the priest. Yellow light pulsed and thumped through the limp frame, searing light seeming to eat through the flesh of the left palm, before that too slowly faded.

Too much energy at once, it couldn't breech the barrier.

Though seconds might have felt like hours, it was gone now.

Amberdrake stayed frozen in place for several more, long seconds. He'd stopped breathing, but he hadn't closed his eyes. Information was too important to the kestra'chern! Against every instinct, it was too important.

Some time after things had returned to normal, he let out an explosive, shuddering breath, and drew another. Star-Eyed.

He checked Cassian over, half-expecting the pale priest to be dead. Pulse, breathing -- it took that long for him to register the sound of wheezing. Amberdrake allowed a spark of annoyance to burn away some of the cold dread; had that... thing just undone his work with its bluster and clawing?

Indeed, wheezing, a faint gurgle heard. Not only was the fluid back, but there might be more of it now!

Great.

Good.

Cassian was alive, but as gray as a corpse, maybe less to do with the fluid and more along the lines of shock itself. The room was clear again, at least. It had retreated back into the body it had claimed.

A tick that wouldn't be so easily removed.

Drake cursed and pulled off the shielding ring and -- yep -- immediately dove back into the priest's lungs to purge that fluid out! He chased after the effects of shock, while he was at it, and popped re-broken ribs back into place with new splints. Fuck you, monster.

As he'd learned from knowing Sanzo for nearly a decade now, anger was a great coping mechanism. Whatever that thing was, it was a serious asshole.

"You would think that a parasite would want its host in good health," he complained under his breath, "but no, this one has to be an idiot."

A terrifying, too-powerful idiot. If Drake's hands shook a bit while he worked, he couldn't really be blamed for it, surely.