CW:

Violence, beheading, death, infestation of toxic spores. coughing choking up blood and bile.

Oh.

The rush of Ousia jolts my form with renewed energy, filling me with such a rush. But… also a sudden crack of empty and quite clumsy lack of masterful bladework. Leaving no more than an uppity old girl with a younger’s stamina to battle this Denizen.

And… I’m still propelled by the fool weapon’s platform of quickly dissipating Physis about… twenty paces in the air directly at them.

Wonderful.

I do try though. Moving like one hasn’t since they were young and lithe and brimming with the stupidity of youth, I lean into my old training. Use the momentum, kick off just at the edge of the Nomos aura, and sweep Xafra in an arch at the neck while sliding past to leave me behind the thing.

But… Well. Either my form is off, tilting the edge at a less than perfect angle, or I simply lack the strength to cleave the horrid muppet before it shifts. I’d like to think that my new blade miscalculated our chances of finishing a duel with a Salt-Guzzling Denizen in such a simple and decisive blow.

Judging by her vulnerability to their aura… She might not have fought many in her day.

The blade slams and sinks about two-thirds the way into the neck, and stops.

I jerk to try and pull it back and go for a second swing while the thing is still shifting but… Flesh is already twisting growing odd little spines and… oh toss the Dead Hag are those…

Yes, you stupid gerl. That is a little puff of toxic spores leaking from the hosts eyes and nose and probably every orifice! Perhaps you should consider EVERY PIECE OF CRACKED AND RIVEN TRAINING AND NOT BE SO CLOSE!!!

But the blade won’t budge.

“Mistress?” Calls my Doll. “Um… I… May I…?”

“Will just be a whisper, dear.” I growl, refusing to leave my prize in the clutches of this monster. “Stay put.”

Denizens tend to root down and focus on spreading spores when truly endangered but I WILL NOT chance the brain of this host having the good sense to run taking over at the final moments and leading me on a jolly chase!

What to do, what to do?

Ousia’s better than it has been in years. So… I could let my Doll step in and pound this thing into mulch. Clean all the spores off like last time one of these things wandered into my path. But…

No. I am a Witch, and if I can’t even handle this simple thing I’m not sure I’d have much pride left after today.

“Cracked and Riven Moon.” I sigh, already knowing I’ve breathed in the spores. Will start to feel the symptoms soon. Don’t even bother repressing my little maddened cackle as I weave Ousia down the length of my seemingly dead blade. “I hate to give up this youthful vigor again but…”

Reach into the heart of my oldest working. A thing born from a desperate student’s need to clean every inch of that old manor spotless, and my hatred for the wretched teacher and the punishments if she found but a mote of filth.

And… I weave the spell I used to kill her. Spent… probably ten years worth of Ousia and every scrap of my Physis at the time. Alongside years of preparation and planning to go along with the split-second window the horrid woman gifted me with her latest failed scheme.

Left me such a broken mess then. If not for my Doll I would have expired with her.

Bubbles pop and glimmer down the length of the blade before wrapping around the Denizen. And in the seconds it takes for the Ousia to gather, I get to really look over this thing. Get a way too personal examination of the body still bearing the skin and clothes of a person but… splitting all over. Little spines poking out to release the pockets of spores it’s been growing in the host no doubt.

Waiting for a real threat to arrive and infest. Ousia and Physis becoming more fuel to cause some great outbreak down the line.

Twist a bit of the lingering effects of Xafra’s spell into it, just to slow any manifesting nonsense of this muppet and…

[Blasenplage]

Bubbles glimmer and begin their good work in near total silence. Burn and melt and scrub away all traces of the Denizen within this host. The Ousia I burn slicing through the Nomos aura where one enabled by Physis would be smothered before ever touching my target.

Roots that Denizens tend to wrap around bone and organ take at least thirty heartbeats to dissolve. But… soon the host body goes limp and she’s slumping into the sand.

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Last steps then.

Fold the working, twist it back, and take a deep breath as the Blasenplage rolls back into me.

It HURTS.

But… I channel that pain and fury to roil my Physis and let my working flow back out into the area around. Bubbles quietly rushing to wash over and through anything and everything within about fifty paces.

Cough and spit up blood and bile and whatever scarce nonsense is left behind by my plague.

“Mistress!” My Doll’s pleading cracks through the mess of thought consumed by the pain and rush of it all. “Mistress! I… Can… but I need to…”

Tear the blade free of the dead host, and plunge it into what’s left of the chest cavity. Plenty of rib and lung can be seen since the spores seemed to infest them so deeply. My spell considering them Denizen enough to need scrubbing from the lands.

“There.” I spit and sigh. Consider the Ousia I still have and…

Oh.

“Well… Let’s hope this one can still salvage a bit of life to share with her Witch.” I whisper under my breath, then turn to regard my still kneeling Doll. “You may move, dearie.”

Faster than a breath, and she’s up and before me. Hovering around and fumbling through packs as she lets them drop into the sand. Desperately looking for medicine and any such things to help her dying Witch.

“I… what do you need!?!” It stammers. “W– We have some… some of those pills from Oyeda, or… or I mean we can’t brew tea here but… but…”

“It’s okay, you were such a good girl to wait like that.” I pull it up by the chin and cheek. “Nothing in that bag is worth the trouble. Now… we’ve made wonderful time and won’t need to worry about the tides for a good while. So I should be good to have you salvage what you can from these fools.”

My Doll’s expression is such a twisting thing. Joy at my praise, bubbling worry at my obvious exhaustion, and desire to obey.

“Go along.” I nudge it. “I don’t expect them to have much worth our time but… I’d like to consult with my new blade here before we head out, anyway. Catch my breath.”

And hope she can draw some Ousia from this very costly test of her abilities.

As my Doll scurries off I send a nudge of Physis into Xafra’s stilled form.

A heartbeat passes, then another. And, in a sudden rush that disconcertingly mirrors the denizen’s own sporework, a flood of Ousia rouses and snaps out like the tide. Collecting and subsuming the Ousia and Physis of the rotting muppet before my fourth heartbeat thrums. Whatever Nomos the Denizen manifested now brushed aside without a will to hold it close.

The swelling domain around Xafra’s form reaches out with pseudopods of Physis to each of the bandits as my Doll carefully travels through them. A few try to rise, even prepare themselves to strike at her seemingly petite and harmless frame. But… Well even this sister can tend to them with ease.

A quick kick to the neck, or a bone-shattering palm to the chest breaks their frail fleshy bodies. Leaving them to breathe their last and have what remains of their Ousia and Physis be gobbled up.

And all that while still aloof to the world in her ‘Driftdream’.

Fascinating.

I double-check my own wards, but find that whatever unconscious instincts drive this seem to simply brush past Ousia and Physis still under the will of another.

“Alright dearie.” I prompt with another little careful nudge of my Physis into her. “Time to wake up.”

A beat, and then her Ousia thrums with awareness. The almost lazy acquisitions become an orderly feast for her to draw into herself.

[You killed it. Good. My apologies for any inconveniences caused by my absence.]

“Oh… Apologies accepted. Altho–” And of course, a spitting cough overtakes me just as I reach out to grip her shaft for balance. Staining the sand with more blood and spittle as I try and hack up what is hopefully the last of this vile nonsense.

Takes me a few tries, and at least as many heartbeats. During which Xafra’s thoughts go oddly still, only stir to communicate, [Oh you young fool. You've cleansed your internals?]

“Yes, of course.” I can’t help but snap through a raspy breath. “Unlike you, getting close to a Salt-Guzzling Denizen comes with very specific consequences.”

[Yes yes, I Know. Alright, we can fix this, it will simply be a bit messy. Do you have knowledge of the visceral biome of Witches, or has that been lost?]

“Of… What? Are you asking if I know how this body works? Because… yes. I’d hope so. Went through ten years of–” I cut off my blathering to huff and wipe away the spittle. Take a steadying breath before continuing. “I’m well aware of the damage this spell just caused. Just… transfer some of that Ousia you’ve gathered and I’ll…”

Reknit myself… like I did all those years ago.

Except… Oh.

Oh by the Cracked and Riven Moon I’d only just barely considered that!

[I will gladly transfer more, but that will not solve the problem I speak of. The body is akin to a city, filled with plants and animals that nurture it, and you have wiped it clean of all life that is not explicitly yourself.]

Xafra begins to send a small but stable stream of Ousia to me, interrupting my little spiral with the stock I’ll need to repair this blunder.

[We have not made much progress here, due to both of our choices. Must improve, communicate better. Yet, still alive to do so. Significant in itself.]

Can’t stop a stupidly broken giggle at all the possibilities. “True.”

Even… oh that’s such a delicious thought! If Xafra can gather enough Ousia I can enter so many places I considered closed off to me! Not… not just mitigating the Seelenfäule but… but gathering more than enough Ousia to get back all the years that old cunt stole from me! A brand new Witch cut free from that legacy entirely!

So… I decide to start with one of her first and most useful lessons. One I’ve not had reason to use since just before her death.

“I can work to reknit and replace all the old carved up bits while we travel with the Ousia you supply.” I say while steadying a giddiness unbecoming a Witch of my years. “Tell me… do you have any practice with Physis Cant?”

[It shames me to admit that I do not know what that is. Most of my free existence was partnered with Humans, and aiding them in sculpting their form to their ideal while slaughtering all that opposed them.]

Hmm… Not partnered with any Witches? How strange.

I draw Xafra from the corpse as I spot the final dregs Ousia gets absorbed. “Well… it’s simple enough, honestly. It's subtle nudges of Physis, quick and precise. When done well it can allow commands to be given at nearly the speed of thought. Like this.”

I reach out with my Physis and perform a nudge for ::Peace/Calm/Considerations::

A litany of possible meanings that hold specific when one understands the Ousia attached.

Wondering…

“Dolls understand these almost inherently. There is a lot of debate on whether it is due to their nature to devote themselves to their Witch, or their need for guidance.” I murmur, then let my voice go softer still. “More gentle than the Witch Tone, less… urgent.”

A pulse returns swiftly, a bit oddly motioned but… more defined than I expect. More importantly they are deft and confident signals. Not an ounce of clumsiness, which… I suppose that should be expected in a gerl of her construction.

Is that… Rest or Peace? No… followed up by a question? No… if I had to guess…

::Contentment/Curiosity::

So much more clever than I was. Took me months for mine to be this workable. Able to even convey two streams of considerations in a quick gesture.

[Strange techniques that have developed in my absence. I agree to this. Now, Quickly before you begin to puke out your guts, bring me to the crossbow maiden. She seems suitable.]

“Good. It’s wonderful to see you taking to the Cant so qui–” But I pause, confused by those last words. “Suitable for what, precisely?”