Magnolia in the Mold (Closed)

[Mathias]

Mathias felt Morian's hidden gaze pierce him, as the robed lich looked over the young vandal. He knew he was being scrutinized and inspected, with his captor taking in the details of change since the last time they met. "To be honest, I'm somewhat glad you've eluded me. The Syndicate is going to have a much easier time finding all of your allies, since you've started to unite them," he said. His voice was cold, hoarse, and airy. It sounded hollow, and yet, it evoked a feeling like needles digging into one's spine whenever it was heard.

"Fuck you," Mathias said, spitting into the folds of the shadow-enveloped hood. A cackle erupted from whatever was left of the necromancer's throat, and that laugh did more to break down Math's confidence than waking up in this place. To him, that was the sound of captivity and slavery. It was the one thing that completed the realization that he, despite his running and evasion, was back in Hell.

"Yes... that is what I expected. It's a shame, though... It seems you haven't been keeping diligent in the pursuit of reaching your potential. You should be thankful you've landed back in my hands, Mathias Vinkuzri... Yes... you will thank me someday." The lich turned his back to the planeswalker, who thrashed and rattled his chains, screaming curses and shouting until his voice went hoarse. Morian floated, slowly and leisurely, towards Lillian. "And a fine specimen, too, my young prodigal has found for me," he mused, reaching out a skeletal hand, draped in gray and rotten flesh, caressing her cheek with a phalange. "It seems to me that you have an impressive array of abilities... very unrefined, however. You're going to be a very fun case to work on." With that, he took his leave of the room, the door slamming shut and blocking out the voice of the still-screaming Mathias.

...

"You might think this is cruel, or sadistic... but I want you to face this. I want you to face me, and tell me that what I'm doing isn't for your own good. It isn't making you better than what you are," said Morian, leaning over and staring Mathias directly in the eyes. The young man was certainly glad the magic shadows that covered the lich's face were ever-present... because the last thing he wanted right then was to look into the folds of that hood and see that gruesome visage. Through the pain, Math grunted, his voice breaking as he tried to hiss out a hate-filled vow, but it was lost to the agony.

Needles was a creature that resembled something once long-ago human. He was short, hunched over, and had red flesh that seemed bruised and burnt and raw, all at once. He was mostly bald, with stringy strands of hair matted to his scalp, and enormous bulging eyes, split by a big nose and underlined by a crooked, insidious smile. But his hands - that's where his namesake was from. Implanted into him, grafted into his anatomy, were needles that had replaced his fingers. He had the ability to retract and extend them at will, and thus, he was a perfect vehicle for the bloodletting experiments.

"Now, I have yet to figure out why... but you want to be Human. I'm still wrapping my mind around how it works, but your magic allows you to be Human. And yet... you are not one. Not in the least. Your flesh and your blood only seem as such because that's what it needs to look like. For all intents and purposes... you have a truely Human body. But beyond that mask and intricately woven facade is magic. Pure, untouched, completely raw and unrefined magic," Morian explained. His voice was a mock-sort of soothing, as if he were a mother at a child's bedside, calming her babe who had come down with a fever. It was a twisted sort of fake comfort, only done for the irony and comedy it provided to the lich.

"So, if we draw out the blood... if we force it to show itself as what it really is... as mana... as the essence of magic... you will slowly find your body leaning towards the tendency to display its true form. You will become, instead of a false, if convincing, Human being... instead, a conduit. An unbound nexus of the Tap."

The pain was excruciating, although Mathias could not help but hear every single word uttered from Morian's lips. He tilted his head away from the necromancer to look at Lillian, chained to the wall and helpless. He locked eyes with her, hoping to find some sort of comfort or haven inside that gaze... he wanted her to be able to give him the strength and fortitude to endure... As their eyes met for one brief moment, the vandal stopped screaming. He grit his teeth, but he stopped his banshee wail of agony, finding the solace he needed in her averting eyes and the concern and sorrow they held.

But Mathias knew from experience that this was barely even the beginning for himself. The torment he was suffering was only a fraction of the long and bleak road ahead of him - a path he had no choice but to be dragged along on.