"And he's stolen and tried to sell off things from me. If we judged people off of only one encounter, or off of what they did to others, well, I doubt I'd talk to pretty much anyone in this world." Nevin folded his arms across his chest - not even bothering to address the 'If I wanted to fuck you' thing that this redhead had said. She'd said his name a few times now, but he still didn't know hers. And at this point, he wasn't sure she wanted to know. Not because he disliked the woman - but because she seemed rather hostile and dismissive of him. He was far more than a 'third rate alchemist' thank you very much - he just didn't bother putting anything of value out on the sales floor when more than half of his clientele were thieves or rogues of various breeds. But still - he drew himself upright when she began talking about the scent of decay in the store.
He had noticed it, very faint, but assumed that either Fenn or this woman had traveled through an area where they picked up that smell. To think she was actually generating it - did it have something to do with the strange way her skin looked? He had never seen another person with lines running all across their body like his own - though hers were fewer, and seemed almost deeper than his own. Of course, without touching her to examine them, he had no way of knowing that. But he didn't know where on Althanas she was going with this, this talk of her magic being warped, and then she asked if it would be helpful or detrimental. Then a sharp claw of a nail dragged across black-lined skin - and
Nevin's head throbbed. The blood was - it was a twisting, jarring dissonance, at war with itself, powers clashing as they vied for supremacy. The chorus of his magic was broken, shattered, singing at odds with itself in a way that he had never before experienced. Even with the worst of the abominations that he had fought, never before had his own magic been painful for him to experience. But this - it was like her very essence was torn, and now her comment about being warped was very very clear. And it was - he could feel that this tearing, breaking was killing her, and that there was something else in the blood, like it was crying out for the missing pieces of itself. He - the redhaired man gripped the side of his head as his the chorus of his magic screamed at him, at war with itself. It was like time was moving in slow motion to him as the thick, dark blood welled up from the cut in her arm and began falling towards the ground. With a strangled noise of almost pain he reached out his other hand.
"Sanguine Vitae!" Life, not death. Both sides of her magic screamed for dominance - and here, Nevin knew which he would choose. More blood was pulled out of her, the woman seeming amused by his actions - and then, as it fell to the ground, to the varnished wooden floor, something quite unusual happened. The wood splintered, almost like she had expected it - and then began to grow, twigs and branches sprouting to life where the blood had splashed, fresh green life sprouting up. This lasted for a few moments before - before it withered away. But - but for a moment there, he had pulled forth something. If there was a way to contain that blood, instead of expending it immediately... Nevin shuddered. Her magic was potent, no matter which side seemed to be in effect.
