At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

Alright. Hold on.

[She disappears for a while, returning with an umbrella.]

Ok, where is it?

This. This is it.

[A bough of the tree bends down, moving with the creaks and crackles of bone. The leaves are an odd shade of red.]

Hmm...

(pale red or blood red?)

...

Well uh. How... alive is it?

This alive.

[Dermis waves its arm and the blood-red-leaved branches sway in an exact copy of the motion.]

When I die I come back inside the trunk. There's a castle up there, it was mine when I was made.

Interesting.

[She touches a leaf. How warm is it?]

[The leaf is warm and thrums slightly, the telltale pulse of a heartbeat - though neither Dermis nor its tree seem to possess any sort of heart from what she can tell.]

Hmm...

Well I honestly don't know where to go from here. From what I know heretic minions don't typically come with flesh trees.

You want a look at it, for study, then? There's a room in there that LOOKS like it used to be a clinic - and a library, too.

Uh, sure.

[The tree rushes forwards, branches enveloping the pair - they retract, soon, revealing an elaborate drawing room.]

Guh

Oh god, my fluff is a nightmare to clean. Too late now I guess.

[Surprisingly, the room is near spotless - ceilings vaulted, all wood and marble. Everything is engraved. Are there eyes in there? Are they watching you? Yeah, probably, given your host's nature.]

Hmmmm.....

Mind if I examine the tree for runes?

[Hey, where's Dermis?]

[Like, actually, it appears to be entirely gone. Uh oh.]

*sigh*

Are you part of the tree or something or do I need to be worried?

[No response. You appear to be trapped in an elaborate mansion.]

Cool. Awesome.

[She starts looking for runes anyways. Her weird glitchy arm starts flickering.]

[As she looks, wandering further and further, the mansion appears to get more and more hostile.]

If you can hear me, you weird mass of flesh, I kill gods for a living. Don't try anything stupid.

[The mansion is Entirely Innocent, eyes in paintings all suddenly looking away, banisters smiling on wide, empty staircases.]

How long have I been walking?

[Time is actually frighteningly normal in here - if a watch is checked it will show fifteen minutes have passed. There are no clocks in the place, though.]

[Her arm is getting harder and harder to look at. The more it warps, the faster she seems. Really, though, it's just time dilation. No biggie right?]

[No biggie. The mansion doesn't like that, though. Dermis and everything made of its flesh prefers the natural, the real - hormones and muscles and sinews and teeth and anything but technology's rancid, wretched cleanness. Right in front of this mildly unwelcome newcomer is a window, large and faintly streaked with red, a pattern inside the clear glass.]

[What's happening is perfectly natural. That is, it isn't manufactured. It does, however, break enough laws of reality that the universe is actively attempting to spit her out. She's a sort of cancer to this realm. But if she does get spit out successfully, it'll do more damage than it stops.]

[She examines the glass closer.]

[There are veins in this god damn glass. Veins. Real, live, pulsing veins. Everything in this mansion is very slightly warmed.]

Hmm... Sorry Dermis but I have to know.

[She takes out a knife and holds it to the veins. Not enough to cut, but enough to feel.]

[The glass shies away from the knife, a squeaky creak resonating - almost like a tired, grumpy whine.]

[Dermis is behind her.]

Don't hurt it, it's been good to me. Please?

I didn't plan to. I was curious just how alive the place is. Now I know. Sorry though.

It's okay. [Dermis bows, folding all four of its hands over each other and nodding once. Its tail swishes behind it, curling, coiling, uncurling. In the structure of its bones lies the vaulted archways.]

Did you find what you were looking for?

Oh, we both have 4 arms! Fun!

Anyways, no runes. Is this window a sort of heart or something?

No. Heart's back there. [Dermis points behind itself with a thumb dismissively.] Or.. down there? [A second hand points downwards, through the floor.] Or... [Its other arms fiddle with each other, pointing one way or another, then two MORE arms emerge from Dermis's awful, wretched robes, pointing two different directions.]

Well, the window's not the house's heart, I know that. I've broken one before. It took a bit to heal.

[The window, is, in fact, scabbed over in a place.]

Hm. Does it have a full set of organs, or just a heart?

It's... gotta have everything in here somewhere.

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

Alright. Hold on.

[She disappears for a while, returning with an umbrella.]

Ok, where is it?

This. This is it.

[A bough of the tree bends down, moving with the creaks and crackles of bone. The leaves are an odd shade of red.]

Hmm...

(pale red or blood red?)

...

Well uh. How... alive is it?

This alive.

[Dermis waves its arm and the blood-red-leaved branches sway in an exact copy of the motion.]

When I die I come back inside the trunk. There's a castle up there, it was mine when I was made.

Interesting.

[She touches a leaf. How warm is it?]

[The leaf is warm and thrums slightly, the telltale pulse of a heartbeat - though neither Dermis nor its tree seem to possess any sort of heart from what she can tell.]

Hmm...

Well I honestly don't know where to go from here. From what I know heretic minions don't typically come with flesh trees.

You want a look at it, for study, then? There's a room in there that LOOKS like it used to be a clinic - and a library, too.

Uh, sure.

[The tree rushes forwards, branches enveloping the pair - they retract, soon, revealing an elaborate drawing room.]

Guh

Oh god, my fluff is a nightmare to clean. Too late now I guess.

[Surprisingly, the room is near spotless - ceilings vaulted, all wood and marble. Everything is engraved. Are there eyes in there? Are they watching you? Yeah, probably, given your host's nature.]

Hmmmm.....

Mind if I examine the tree for runes?

[Hey, where's Dermis?]

[Like, actually, it appears to be entirely gone. Uh oh.]

*sigh*

Are you part of the tree or something or do I need to be worried?

[No response. You appear to be trapped in an elaborate mansion.]

Cool. Awesome.

[She starts looking for runes anyways. Her weird glitchy arm starts flickering.]

[As she looks, wandering further and further, the mansion appears to get more and more hostile.]

If you can hear me, you weird mass of flesh, I kill gods for a living. Don't try anything stupid.

[The mansion is Entirely Innocent, eyes in paintings all suddenly looking away, banisters smiling on wide, empty staircases.]

How long have I been walking?

[Time is actually frighteningly normal in here - if a watch is checked it will show fifteen minutes have passed. There are no clocks in the place, though.]

[Her arm is getting harder and harder to look at. The more it warps, the faster she seems. Really, though, it's just time dilation. No biggie right?]

[No biggie. The mansion doesn't like that, though. Dermis and everything made of its flesh prefers the natural, the real - hormones and muscles and sinews and teeth and anything but technology's rancid, wretched cleanness. Right in front of this mildly unwelcome newcomer is a window, large and faintly streaked with red, a pattern inside the clear glass.]

[What's happening is perfectly natural. That is, it isn't manufactured. It does, however, break enough laws of reality that the universe is actively attempting to spit her out. She's a sort of cancer to this realm. But if she does get spit out successfully, it'll do more damage than it stops.]

[She examines the glass closer.]

[There are veins in this god damn glass. Veins. Real, live, pulsing veins. Everything in this mansion is very slightly warmed.]

Hmm... Sorry Dermis but I have to know.

[She takes out a knife and holds it to the veins. Not enough to cut, but enough to feel.]

[The glass shies away from the knife, a squeaky creak resonating - almost like a tired, grumpy whine.]

[Dermis is behind her.]

Don't hurt it, it's been good to me. Please?

I didn't plan to. I was curious just how alive the place is. Now I know. Sorry though.

It's okay. [Dermis bows, folding all four of its hands over each other and nodding once. Its tail swishes behind it, curling, coiling, uncurling. In the structure of its bones lies the vaulted archways.]

Did you find what you were looking for?

Oh, we both have 4 arms! Fun!

Anyways, no runes. Is this window a sort of heart or something?

No. Heart's back there. [Dermis points behind itself with a thumb dismissively.] Or.. down there? [A second hand points downwards, through the floor.] Or... [Its other arms fiddle with each other, pointing one way or another, then two MORE arms emerge from Dermis's awful, wretched robes, pointing two different directions.]

Well, the window's not the house's heart, I know that. I've broken one before. It took a bit to heal.

[The window, is, in fact, scabbed over in a place.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

Alright. Hold on.

[She disappears for a while, returning with an umbrella.]

Ok, where is it?

This. This is it.

[A bough of the tree bends down, moving with the creaks and crackles of bone. The leaves are an odd shade of red.]

Hmm...

(pale red or blood red?)

...

Well uh. How... alive is it?

This alive.

[Dermis waves its arm and the blood-red-leaved branches sway in an exact copy of the motion.]

When I die I come back inside the trunk. There's a castle up there, it was mine when I was made.

Interesting.

[She touches a leaf. How warm is it?]

[The leaf is warm and thrums slightly, the telltale pulse of a heartbeat - though neither Dermis nor its tree seem to possess any sort of heart from what she can tell.]

Hmm...

Well I honestly don't know where to go from here. From what I know heretic minions don't typically come with flesh trees.

You want a look at it, for study, then? There's a room in there that LOOKS like it used to be a clinic - and a library, too.

Uh, sure.

[The tree rushes forwards, branches enveloping the pair - they retract, soon, revealing an elaborate drawing room.]

Guh

Oh god, my fluff is a nightmare to clean. Too late now I guess.

[Surprisingly, the room is near spotless - ceilings vaulted, all wood and marble. Everything is engraved. Are there eyes in there? Are they watching you? Yeah, probably, given your host's nature.]

Hmmmm.....

Mind if I examine the tree for runes?

[Hey, where's Dermis?]

[Like, actually, it appears to be entirely gone. Uh oh.]

*sigh*

Are you part of the tree or something or do I need to be worried?

[No response. You appear to be trapped in an elaborate mansion.]

Cool. Awesome.

[She starts looking for runes anyways. Her weird glitchy arm starts flickering.]

[As she looks, wandering further and further, the mansion appears to get more and more hostile.]

If you can hear me, you weird mass of flesh, I kill gods for a living. Don't try anything stupid.

[The mansion is Entirely Innocent, eyes in paintings all suddenly looking away, banisters smiling on wide, empty staircases.]

How long have I been walking?

[Time is actually frighteningly normal in here - if a watch is checked it will show fifteen minutes have passed. There are no clocks in the place, though.]

[Her arm is getting harder and harder to look at. The more it warps, the faster she seems. Really, though, it's just time dilation. No biggie right?]

[No biggie. The mansion doesn't like that, though. Dermis and everything made of its flesh prefers the natural, the real - hormones and muscles and sinews and teeth and anything but technology's rancid, wretched cleanness. Right in front of this mildly unwelcome newcomer is a window, large and faintly streaked with red, a pattern inside the clear glass.]

[What's happening is perfectly natural. That is, it isn't manufactured. It does, however, break enough laws of reality that the universe is actively attempting to spit her out. She's a sort of cancer to this realm. But if she does get spit out successfully, it'll do more damage than it stops.]

[She examines the glass closer.]

[There are veins in this god damn glass. Veins. Real, live, pulsing veins. Everything in this mansion is very slightly warmed.]

Hmm... Sorry Dermis but I have to know.

[She takes out a knife and holds it to the veins. Not enough to cut, but enough to feel.]

[The glass shies away from the knife, a squeaky creak resonating - almost like a tired, grumpy whine.]

[Dermis is behind her.]

Don't hurt it, it's been good to me. Please?

I didn't plan to. I was curious just how alive the place is. Now I know. Sorry though.

It's okay. [Dermis bows, folding all four of its hands over each other and nodding once. Its tail swishes behind it, curling, coiling, uncurling. In the structure of its bones lies the vaulted archways.]

Did you find what you were looking for?

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

Alright. Hold on.

[She disappears for a while, returning with an umbrella.]

Ok, where is it?

This. This is it.

[A bough of the tree bends down, moving with the creaks and crackles of bone. The leaves are an odd shade of red.]

Hmm...

(pale red or blood red?)

...

Well uh. How... alive is it?

This alive.

[Dermis waves its arm and the blood-red-leaved branches sway in an exact copy of the motion.]

When I die I come back inside the trunk. There's a castle up there, it was mine when I was made.

Interesting.

[She touches a leaf. How warm is it?]

[The leaf is warm and thrums slightly, the telltale pulse of a heartbeat - though neither Dermis nor its tree seem to possess any sort of heart from what she can tell.]

Hmm...

Well I honestly don't know where to go from here. From what I know heretic minions don't typically come with flesh trees.

You want a look at it, for study, then? There's a room in there that LOOKS like it used to be a clinic - and a library, too.

Uh, sure.

[The tree rushes forwards, branches enveloping the pair - they retract, soon, revealing an elaborate drawing room.]

Guh

Oh god, my fluff is a nightmare to clean. Too late now I guess.

[Surprisingly, the room is near spotless - ceilings vaulted, all wood and marble. Everything is engraved. Are there eyes in there? Are they watching you? Yeah, probably, given your host's nature.]

Hmmmm.....

Mind if I examine the tree for runes?

[Hey, where's Dermis?]

[Like, actually, it appears to be entirely gone. Uh oh.]

*sigh*

Are you part of the tree or something or do I need to be worried?

[No response. You appear to be trapped in an elaborate mansion.]

Cool. Awesome.

[She starts looking for runes anyways. Her weird glitchy arm starts flickering.]

[As she looks, wandering further and further, the mansion appears to get more and more hostile.]

If you can hear me, you weird mass of flesh, I kill gods for a living. Don't try anything stupid.

[The mansion is Entirely Innocent, eyes in paintings all suddenly looking away, banisters smiling on wide, empty staircases.]

How long have I been walking?

[Time is actually frighteningly normal in here - if a watch is checked it will show fifteen minutes have passed. There are no clocks in the place, though.]

[Her arm is getting harder and harder to look at. The more it warps, the faster she seems. Really, though, it's just time dilation. No biggie right?]

[No biggie. The mansion doesn't like that, though. Dermis and everything made of its flesh prefers the natural, the real - hormones and muscles and sinews and teeth and anything but technology's rancid, wretched cleanness. Right in front of this mildly unwelcome newcomer is a window, large and faintly streaked with red, a pattern inside the clear glass.]

[What's happening is perfectly natural. That is, it isn't manufactured. It does, however, break enough laws of reality that the universe is actively attempting to spit her out. She's a sort of cancer to this realm. But if she does get spit out successfully, it'll do more damage than it stops.]

[She examines the glass closer.]

[There are veins in this god damn glass. Veins. Real, live, pulsing veins. Everything in this mansion is very slightly warmed.]

Hmm... Sorry Dermis but I have to know.

[She takes out a knife and holds it to the veins. Not enough to cut, but enough to feel.]

[The glass shies away from the knife, a squeaky creak resonating - almost like a tired, grumpy whine.]

[Dermis is behind her.]

Don't hurt it, it's been good to me. Please?

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

Alright. Hold on.

[She disappears for a while, returning with an umbrella.]

Ok, where is it?

This. This is it.

[A bough of the tree bends down, moving with the creaks and crackles of bone. The leaves are an odd shade of red.]

Hmm...

(pale red or blood red?)

...

Well uh. How... alive is it?

This alive.

[Dermis waves its arm and the blood-red-leaved branches sway in an exact copy of the motion.]

When I die I come back inside the trunk. There's a castle up there, it was mine when I was made.

Interesting.

[She touches a leaf. How warm is it?]

[The leaf is warm and thrums slightly, the telltale pulse of a heartbeat - though neither Dermis nor its tree seem to possess any sort of heart from what she can tell.]

Hmm...

Well I honestly don't know where to go from here. From what I know heretic minions don't typically come with flesh trees.

You want a look at it, for study, then? There's a room in there that LOOKS like it used to be a clinic - and a library, too.

Uh, sure.

[The tree rushes forwards, branches enveloping the pair - they retract, soon, revealing an elaborate drawing room.]

Guh

Oh god, my fluff is a nightmare to clean. Too late now I guess.

[Surprisingly, the room is near spotless - ceilings vaulted, all wood and marble. Everything is engraved. Are there eyes in there? Are they watching you? Yeah, probably, given your host's nature.]

Hmmmm.....

Mind if I examine the tree for runes?

[Hey, where's Dermis?]

[Like, actually, it appears to be entirely gone. Uh oh.]

*sigh*

Are you part of the tree or something or do I need to be worried?

[No response. You appear to be trapped in an elaborate mansion.]

Cool. Awesome.

[She starts looking for runes anyways. Her weird glitchy arm starts flickering.]

[As she looks, wandering further and further, the mansion appears to get more and more hostile.]

If you can hear me, you weird mass of flesh, I kill gods for a living. Don't try anything stupid.

[The mansion is Entirely Innocent, eyes in paintings all suddenly looking away, banisters smiling on wide, empty staircases.]

How long have I been walking?

[Time is actually frighteningly normal in here - if a watch is checked it will show fifteen minutes have passed. There are no clocks in the place, though.]

[Her arm is getting harder and harder to look at. The more it warps, the faster she seems. Really, though, it's just time dilation. No biggie right?]

[No biggie. The mansion doesn't like that, though. Dermis and everything made of its flesh prefers the natural, the real - hormones and muscles and sinews and teeth and anything but technology's rancid, wretched cleanness. Right in front of this mildly unwelcome newcomer is a window, large and faintly streaked with red, a pattern inside the clear glass.]

[What's happening is perfectly natural. That is, it isn't manufactured. It does, however, break enough laws of reality that the universe is actively attempting to spit her out. She's a sort of cancer to this realm. But if she does get spit out successfully, it'll do more damage than it stops.]

[She examines the glass closer.]

[There are veins in this god damn glass. Veins. Real, live, pulsing veins. Everything in this mansion is very slightly warmed.]

The clearing near the wizard's stall

*Dermis twirls, once, twice, humming happily, four arms fiddling with the hems of its tattered robes.*

@mr--zer0

*looks at all this, expecting something interesting*

You wanted to see my abilities... you're not squeamish, right?

No, don't worry. For some time I worked in the morgue and performed autopsies on corpses, so there is little to surprise me.

Okay!

*Dermis's voice is singsong, following it - Dermis's body shrinks into itself, momentarily, almost like it's being viewed through a funhouse mirror, then Dermis triples, quadruples, quintuples in mass - all sinew and bone and muscle, bared, a massive shambling pile of flesh supported on too many hands to count.*

I can do things like this!

You look like what hot dog sausages are usually made of.

Akhakhakhakhakhakhakhakhakha

But seriously, it looks cool.

Thank you!

*Oh, god, is that a curtsy. It's sickening to look at, the thing dipping and weaving in and out of itself - it shrinks back into the humanoid form, humming serenely.*

*continues to watch transformations*

I apologize in advance for my jokes. I try to joke everywhere.

(ooc: fun fact, Mr. Zer0 looks like Spandam)

I like jokes!

*Dermis's smile is very toothy and full of teeth, teethily teething.*

(ooc: oh man... spandam wizard...)

That's nice.

You have a wonderful magical ability! But to be honest, I wouldn't want your abilities.

(Ooc: don't worry, he only has looks like Spandam. I just really like its design)

*Dermis giggles, waving goodbye.*

"I'll see you later, then!"

*It shrinks alllll the way into itself, leaving nothing behind but a faint smell of sweat and blood.*

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

Alright. Hold on.

[She disappears for a while, returning with an umbrella.]

Ok, where is it?

This. This is it.

[A bough of the tree bends down, moving with the creaks and crackles of bone. The leaves are an odd shade of red.]

Hmm...

(pale red or blood red?)

...

Well uh. How... alive is it?

This alive.

[Dermis waves its arm and the blood-red-leaved branches sway in an exact copy of the motion.]

When I die I come back inside the trunk. There's a castle up there, it was mine when I was made.

Interesting.

[She touches a leaf. How warm is it?]

[The leaf is warm and thrums slightly, the telltale pulse of a heartbeat - though neither Dermis nor its tree seem to possess any sort of heart from what she can tell.]

Hmm...

Well I honestly don't know where to go from here. From what I know heretic minions don't typically come with flesh trees.

You want a look at it, for study, then? There's a room in there that LOOKS like it used to be a clinic - and a library, too.

Uh, sure.

[The tree rushes forwards, branches enveloping the pair - they retract, soon, revealing an elaborate drawing room.]

Guh

Oh god, my fluff is a nightmare to clean. Too late now I guess.

[Surprisingly, the room is near spotless - ceilings vaulted, all wood and marble. Everything is engraved. Are there eyes in there? Are they watching you? Yeah, probably, given your host's nature.]

Hmmmm.....

Mind if I examine the tree for runes?

[Hey, where's Dermis?]

[Like, actually, it appears to be entirely gone. Uh oh.]

*sigh*

Are you part of the tree or something or do I need to be worried?

[No response. You appear to be trapped in an elaborate mansion.]

Cool. Awesome.

[She starts looking for runes anyways. Her weird glitchy arm starts flickering.]

[As she looks, wandering further and further, the mansion appears to get more and more hostile.]

If you can hear me, you weird mass of flesh, I kill gods for a living. Don't try anything stupid.

[The mansion is Entirely Innocent, eyes in paintings all suddenly looking away, banisters smiling on wide, empty staircases.]

How long have I been walking?

[Time is actually frighteningly normal in here - if a watch is checked it will show fifteen minutes have passed. There are no clocks in the place, though.]

[Her arm is getting harder and harder to look at. The more it warps, the faster she seems. Really, though, it's just time dilation. No biggie right?]

[No biggie. The mansion doesn't like that, though. Dermis and everything made of its flesh prefers the natural, the real - hormones and muscles and sinews and teeth and anything but technology's rancid, wretched cleanness. Right in front of this mildly unwelcome newcomer is a window, large and faintly streaked with red, a pattern inside the clear glass.]

At the Flesh Tree

[Which, for the record, really is a giant tree made out of withered, wizened flesh. Dermis stands at the bottom of it, arms akimbo.] @song-de-lune

Alright. Hold on.

[She disappears for a while, returning with an umbrella.]

Ok, where is it?

This. This is it.

[A bough of the tree bends down, moving with the creaks and crackles of bone. The leaves are an odd shade of red.]

Hmm...

(pale red or blood red?)

...

Well uh. How... alive is it?

This alive.

[Dermis waves its arm and the blood-red-leaved branches sway in an exact copy of the motion.]

When I die I come back inside the trunk. There's a castle up there, it was mine when I was made.

Interesting.

[She touches a leaf. How warm is it?]