Chance Meeting [Kor] - Completed

Korvus watched in silence, teleporting quickly beside the dear and its pursuers as he had done when she had been chased by him. The fear and panic roiling off of the creature distinctly whet his appetite, but he found himself all the more interested by Bishop. In particular, that this fear and pain was needless. She could've sent an arrow through the creature's head, as she had tried to do with him, but did not. It could not have been fear; no mundane beast as this was a threat to her, so was he truly seeing her capacity for cruelty? He liked it, for the simple fact that it existed, and while he hadn't expected anything close to purity from her, such love of the chase and (perhaps?) the pain of another creature was something he could easily identify with. A smile crossed his face, which could only occasionally be seen against the whiteness of the mist.

He kept close to the deer, waiting for it to drop. He sought more than flesh or blood, and knew he would have to be swift about taking hold of it. Amimal minds were fleeting and panicked things, in life or death.

Korvus dutifully stepped forward, ripping the arrows out. His hands glowed unnaturally as he did so, and as the final arrow was torn from the beast, a bluish, misty form seemed to rise up from the holes created. It did not have enough time to take shape, drawn to swirl unnaturally around Korvus head, which lolled back with an expression akin to what Bishop might expect were she to take him up on his advances; eyes half-closed and mouth half-open, the mist swirled into him through no particular orifice or without any orifice in particular, expanding to encapsulate and disappear into the whole of his form. When it was done, Korvus opened his eyes and watched Bishop brandish her knife. The corpse had become more than a little cold, more so than it likely should've been by that time.

"So, what now?" he asked, eyeing her knife curiously.

Korvus had no simple way of explaining that he had just stolen its essence and consumed it with his own soul, nor an easy one. So far away from magic, he hadn't the faintest idea how she'd react to such a thing. As she dragged the corpse off, he followed, mulling over his answer for a few minutes before coming to the startling conclusion that honesty was the finest way to go about it. "I took its living essence and devoured it," he said, as though it as the most natural thing to do to a fresh kill, "Its soul, you might say." He gave her an apologetic look, uncertain if he could see it, "I haven't done so in too long, I forgot it would cool the flesh so."

Korvus sighed, picking up the back-end as requested. He immediately felt the drain upon his power as he sought to ensure that he could hold it with some confidence, but was certain he would make it back to their lair unharmed. Her lair, at any rate. Korvus didn't consider himself much more than a guest, now. "I will," he said, rather pleased at how well she was taking it, at any rate, and resolved to honor her request for that. She was not, so far as he could tell, a particularly superstitious woman which, in its own way, was good. This forest didn't seem to hold any particularly ancient or terrible secret guarded by any explicitly sentient or animate trees, and so such belief was likely unnecessary. He was endlessly thankful that she was not some wispy, condescending elf, at any rate.

Korvus, reasonably drained by the time they returned, was grateful to return to the pile of furs and sit down to rest himself. His was not a body accustomed to, nor appreciative of, physical labor. He turned his mind instead to her mask, and resolved to himself to dazzle her some. "No. Never," he said, "Would you ask anything else of me, or do you want your mask?" He looked over at the skull and antlers curiously; soul though they lacked, he was certain he could make some use of them in the advanced working he was planning. He did not yet ask for them, awaiting her answer.

"Once my parents were killed and my master took me in, magic became a solution to most of life's simpler problems," Korvus explained, examining the deer's skull closely and running his fingers around where the antlers met the skull. "I wasn't content with that, and so I went to Karmor." His fingers glowed, smoke came from the base of the antlers and they clattered to the floor, blackened (but usable) stumps on the bottom. The same blackness sat where the antlers had once been upon the skull, looking as though tiny bombs had been set off there. "Karmor is a realm where demons live, you see. That's how I became like this, and entwined myself with magic." He picked up the antlers, examining them curiously, "I won't bore you with the details. But, no, I used to have a body much like yours, before my time in Karmor was through. What physical ability I had then is probably the reason I lived so long."

"You didn't seem to quite mind what you saw, if you'll forgive me for saying so," Korvus said in a manner communicating that he truly wasn't concerned if she forgave him for saying so. He looked over at her once she sat, "Now, if you want your mask, I'm going to need blood. A basin's worth or so should do it, if I'm conservative about the seal. May I use the skull?" An invocation to Kormok would serve him well after a hunt, and easily grant him what he needed to properly do his work. A little proof wouldn't hurt his chances, either.

Korvus focused, summoning forth a heavy iron basin that radiated with unnatural warmth. Odd runes and glyphs lined it, and Korvus seemed genuinely pleased by its appearance. He set it beneath her arm, "You hunt and kill with a skill that Kormok would approve of," he mused, "But, I value you far more than he would." He smirked back at her, "Need I even guess at what part?" he said, rolling his eyes slightly at the insinuation. He set the skull down before him, gazing down distantly at the floor as he considered how best to arrange the circle and insignia around it.

When the basin was sufficiently filled, the blood kept warm by the strange emanations of the basin, Korvus tapped her arm and bade her stop. He paused as he dipped his fingers in her blood, a rather silly question bothering him. "Am I right to assume you thought well of it, then?" he asked, awaiting her answer before pulling the blood-laden finger out of the basin and dragging it across the floor. Korvus was in his element, here, and worked with distinct purpose. He drew the circle and one within, many demonic runes going in the spaces between them and other sundry lines connecting the skull in the center to various runes on the outside. The end result was straight from the mind of a mad geometer of some sort, and Korvus was pleased to find he still had more than half a basin's worth of life's sweet nectar.

Assuming a position more befitting of the ritual, Korvus sat cross-legged, straight-backed and facing his new circle of blood, the basin beside him. He shut his eyes, beginning to chant in the harsh, guttural tongue of Karmor. He spoke the words slowly and clearly, an unnerving hiss to his voice that was not present when he spoke any mortal tongue. His fluency and the calmness with which he spoke contrasted strangely with the severe tones of the speech.

The basin of blood diminished noticeably as a chunk of whitish, bone-like material manifested above the circle, draining gradually as it began to take shape.

The blood was nearly drained by the time the mask formed: a snarling fox, its mouth open and its lips curled back furiously. The eyes, startlingly detailed, glared down at Korvus vindictively. There seemed no way to see through it, the mask lacking the lenses that Korvus' had, but a small smirk played on Korvus' otherwise entranced features as he continued crafting. A faint glow came over the mask, the eyes in particular shining a bright crimson for several moments before the light faded. Seconds later, the mask clattered to the floor, the circle faded, and both the basin and what blood remained was gone, including that which had covered Korvus' fingers. Korvus' eyes opened as though waking from a dream, and he looked down upon his craftsmanship. He picked it up, looking it over once more before offering it to her. He seemed rather tired, but gave her a weary smile all the same. "I hope it's to your liking. Before you make any comments, try it on."

Korvus motioned to his own mask, sitting beside his robes on his end of the fur-pile. "My own mask isn't even my best," he boasted, grinning back at her, "My best would cost much more of us both than your blood and a deer's skull." The skull had disappeared with the circle, to no surprise, but Korvus seemed endlessly pleased that she was so satisfied with his work. He again flopped back upon the furs, shedding the leather he wore once he realized the skins were still upon his body. He was not quite as uncomfortable in them any longer, but had much more preference for his robes or, failing that, nothing at all. At this juncture, he chose the latter.

Korvus shifted position on the pile, moving somewhat closer to her and smiling when he noted that she was continuing to make use of the mask. It was featureless, making no indications as to whether or not it lent her sight; just as his mask hid his emotions, hers would hide the power it gave. He did not yet speak, watching her quietly and looking over the details. He had planned out each one as meticulously as his mind allowed in that state which was, to be fair, more than a fair amount.

He drew a little closer, whispering now, "A small taste of the power I can offer you, with the added benefits of my mask."

Korvus smirked, "You wound me, Bishop," he murmured, "I shouldn't think that I'd wait until now to ask for your... talents in exchange for my mask. I ensure that deals are made before gifts are given, not after." He stretched out, "I wouldn't mind your company," he added, "But not because I gave you something I asked nothing in return for." He watched the bird, then, chuckling as it tore at the heart. It reminded him of his crows, those that truly existed, sadly absent from him now. He was certain he would find more, with time and carrion, but now had much more interesting things to concern his thoughts with than of the fate of his flock.