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Overdue Insight
Dec. 10th, 2017 03:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grantuseyesThere had been a debate about this. Micolash insisting that he must go to the Nexus to address matters. Abysa retorting that he is still too weak and ill and being absolutely right about that. The scholar eventually proved too stubborn and insistent in the end however, and soon preparations were made and certain medical supplies gathered. Of course, a second debate followed regarding the use of his cage. Abysa again adamant that he's too frail for it and his psychic aura negates the need for it; Micolash arguing that people would likely not respond well to seeing it OFF of him. In the end, concessions. He could wear his cage, but his time in the Nexus would be limited. When time is up, Abysa would see them off back to where the demon hides so his sickly human patient can resume recovery.
This afternoon, a wheelchair is led into the Nexus with Abysa behind it holding onto the handles. Seated in it is Micolash. Gone is his usual scholar's regalia, his waistcoat and pinstripe pants. Instead, its just simple powder blue scrubs that the demon had managed to procure. One of his thin, bare arms has an IV inserted into the back of one hand, the tubing leading to a stand affixed to the back of the wheelchair. A plastic bag filled with a clear fluid hangs there, dripping slowly.
Perhaps only making him seem that much smaller, frailer, is the iron cage sitting on Micolash's shoulders. Massive, rusted and unwieldily with cloth ribbons tied around some of the hind bars to lash it also to the wheelchair's back. Assistance in keeping it upright and sparing the scholar effort he could not provide on his own.
The final striking change since he was last seen on Halloween is the cloth wrapped around Micolash's eyes. Wound tightly in a criss-cross pattern to cover the top portion of his face. The material is a midnight blue and appears to be soft but resilient. Underneath it, there are small glimpses of (also dark blue) bandages.
Micolash waits until the wheelchair has come to a stop and Abysa rests a long hand gently on his shoulder, alerting him that they are indeed someplace where he can at last ask his question and be heard. When he speaks, his voice is cracked and strained.
"I would. Imagine. That perhaps some of you. Have questions...for me?"
Time to address the Nightmare.
This afternoon, a wheelchair is led into the Nexus with Abysa behind it holding onto the handles. Seated in it is Micolash. Gone is his usual scholar's regalia, his waistcoat and pinstripe pants. Instead, its just simple powder blue scrubs that the demon had managed to procure. One of his thin, bare arms has an IV inserted into the back of one hand, the tubing leading to a stand affixed to the back of the wheelchair. A plastic bag filled with a clear fluid hangs there, dripping slowly.
Perhaps only making him seem that much smaller, frailer, is the iron cage sitting on Micolash's shoulders. Massive, rusted and unwieldily with cloth ribbons tied around some of the hind bars to lash it also to the wheelchair's back. Assistance in keeping it upright and sparing the scholar effort he could not provide on his own.
The final striking change since he was last seen on Halloween is the cloth wrapped around Micolash's eyes. Wound tightly in a criss-cross pattern to cover the top portion of his face. The material is a midnight blue and appears to be soft but resilient. Underneath it, there are small glimpses of (also dark blue) bandages.
Micolash waits until the wheelchair has come to a stop and Abysa rests a long hand gently on his shoulder, alerting him that they are indeed someplace where he can at last ask his question and be heard. When he speaks, his voice is cracked and strained.
"I would. Imagine. That perhaps some of you. Have questions...for me?"
Time to address the Nightmare.
