Twelve Hours Later

((Special thanks to the fine roleplayers above for a fun late night rp session. I tried to do the scene justice as much as possible without a chatlog available and only my poor memory to rely on.  If I failed, the blame is all mine.))

He walked the streets of Silvermoon like a zombie. In his mind, a slow, reverberating chant could be heard in a disturbing mockery of his own voice.

"Mana. Mana. Mana."

More more more.

He clutched his head, squeezing the temples until his head physically ached. He walked, trying to avoid the mana dens but was drawn back to them like a moth to flame. He paced in front of one of the doorways, drawing the attention of several nobles who tut-tutted and clucked their tongues at him.

"Filthy addict," he heard them say. He turned, forced his leaden legs to walk away. Everything was so bright. So bright.

So...purple.

Colors faded from his vision and the world became washed out. He saw purple outlines around passerby; saw purple trails from the spells they flung at each other. Saw purple in the brooms that constantly swept the city. Ever vigilant brooms. He saw the purple glow very brightly upon one woman in particular. One who stood and watched him. He averted his eyes and walked, walked with no particular destination in mind, but knowing he had to get somewhere safe. Murder Row. He knew that place well. It had alleys and pleasant shadows. If he could just rest and catch his breath...

He ducked into an alley next to the inn and fell to his knees, holding his head.

Damn you, Artressa! What the fuck did you do to me? I'm not going back to you. Not going back there.  Not gonna end up like Zeb.

He heard her footsteps approaching. How did she find him so quickly? Was she coming to take him back there?

"Sav? What's wrong?" Artressa stared down at him, wreathed in shadows, arms crossed with uncertainty over her chest.

"Go away," he moaned. She's not there. She's not there!

Her concerned features morphed into a Cheshire grin. "Tell me what's wrong, Saviero. Are you ill?"

You know goddamned well what's happening to me. You know. And you have a way to stop it.

With an animalistic grunt, he threw himself at her, shoving her back against a nearby tree. The back of her head slammed against the aged bark and knocked the wind out of her. She threw up her hands in defense and invoked a shaky bubble around her. It was as if that drove whatever enraged spirit that was chained up inside him to break free of its confines at last. The purple mana oozing off that bubble crumbled what last resolve he had; what last defense he kept up against the wretched within him.

He reeled back from her for a moment, just a moment, a struggle evident on his face.

Stop...this madness. Get away.

Her immunity bubble wavered, then faded. She reached out for him. "Sav?"

She can make it go away! Get it from her! Get...her!

The force of his attack was unlike him. It wasn't him. It was his raw frustration made tangible. He wound fingers into her red hair and gripped her head, shoving it back against the tree to knock her filthy lies out of her mouth. He slobbered, flinging spittle like a slavering dog, groping and pawing her for whatever vial or magic cure she might have on her. Meanwhile, the purple mana drifting from her body was like a sweet perfume egging him on. He dragged his tongue up her cheek, tasting for mana. Tasting that it was contained beneath her very skin.

"I must have it!" his voice bellowed out. "It's under your skin! I will tear it from your flesh!"

She whimpered and cried out and put up her hands to defend herself, slumping down against the trunk of the tree to ward off his wild, uncoordinated blows. Blood oozed from her mouth, dripping down her chin. But she couldn't defend herself against the fingernails that raked across her cheek, tearing her skin, leaving angry red gouges that lazily welled up with blood. He looked at her breathlessly. There was no mana coming out from her face. He had sworn it was there.

He blinked. Artressa's face was no longer Artressa's. It was Denley's. A battered, bloody Denley. Innocent Denley. She reached out and transferred a soothing spell to him. The surge of mana momentarily placated him.  He shuddered in shock. His rational mind surged to overcome the mana-enraged portion of his brain. But... where was Artressa?

He had no time to wonder. Strong hands grabbed him, threw him against the nearby wall, knocking the breath out of him. Another figure, a man, knelt down to assist the woman. He glimpsed neat, pressed clothes and light blonde hair.  The woman holding him also had light hair, a stern look on her face and wore a dress. Saviero was spun, shoved against the wall again, cheek scraped up against the rough stone. His hands were wrenched behind him and secured.

"Just...give it to me..." he whined in defeat. Where did she go? Why was Denley there? He struggled to move but the Legionnaire's grip on him was strong, experienced and incapacitating. He heard voices in the haze of his mind.

Familiar voices. A woman's and a man's. Jakobus? That creepy serial-killer looking guy? What in the hell was he doing here?

A sharp pain bloomed in his neck, heady warmth filled him, and all went dark.

Voices melded into one continuous string of unintelligible mumbling in his ears. Sharp pain blossomed in his lower back and grew to an insistent ache. He couldn't move his arms or legs. Conscious thought struggled to stay afloat in a sea of murky nightmares. 

This isn't death.  Where am I?

He focused on the one thing he recognized; the feel of cold stone beneath his cheek. Slowly, he felt his consciousness returning to him. He struggled to move but his arms were still restrained. In fact, there was heavy weight atop him, keeping him held down.

"Where the hell am I?" he demanded, but it rolled out of his mouth much like, "Mmmhppphh...rmmgh." His tongue refused to work.

He attempted to speak again, but this time, vomit came out.  He coughed and sputtered, a pile of slimy throwup at the feet of the woman who had just prevented him from murder.  Luckily she moved back in time to avoid the fluids.

Once he was more awake, they explained evenly that he had attacked an innocent woman and displayed violent signs of mana addiction.  He would consent to treatment by Jakobus and follow a regimen of medication intended to alleviate the episodes he may experience in the future.

Saviero looked at each of them in turn. The curious, penetrating gaze of Dr. Jakobus Nachtengaal, his apprentice Hera, a lovely young girl with a sharp tongue, and the concerned, clear-minded gaze of Aramalia Solisbane.  He couldn't bear to meet Denley's gaze, her face a sharp reminder of the lack of control and violence he'd just vented upon her, albeit mistakenly. There was no time to explain. He was screwed. He didn't know how much Denley had told them, but he knew the more people knew, the more word would leak out that Saviero Deterre and his business was very unstable.  With both Velstands afflicted by illness, who would take care of business?

He felt the gaze of the doctor's apprentice on his face, searching and flashing with recognition. "I know I recognize you," she stated boldly. He nearly cringed. All he needed was some gossipy girl blabbing about his condition.  Though he supposed he did his own reputation enough harm tonight all on his own.

"You'd best keep that to yourself," Saviero returned, attempting to keep his voice mild, but she must have sensed his alarm.

"Or you'll do what?" she replied, feigning a pout but there was steel in her eyes. Jesus, the girl's got balls.

He made no answer, but shifted position and got a breathtaking pain in his lower back.

"I got the back ache from hell," he muttered, and didn't feel like adding "and a headache to match." Jakobus nodded matter-of-factly.

"That would be from the needle I inserted into your spinal column to extract spinal fluid." The man intoned, bluntly, proudly.

"Oh, is that all?" Saviero muttered dryly.

"Yes, that is all. Refrain from strenuous activity for at least 24 hours. Intercourse is permitted, however, so long as you take the bottom position," he added with no humor. The bastard was serious? Saviero nodded. Surprisingly, sex was not on his mind.

Lady Aramalia's face was flabbergasted at the Doctor's behavior, but as Jakobus and his apprentice left, she smiled kindly at Saviero and offered her assistance, should he ever need it. She also reminded him that he was to start his regimen of medicine shortly.

After they all left, he was alone with Denley. He looked at her beaten up face and wanted to roll up and die. How could he have beaten up a girl like that?  Her eyes met his, and she mentioned something about getting him somewhere he could rest.  She still showed concern for him after he had just viciously attacked her!

His voice was thick, eyes beginning to tear up. "Denley...I'm sorry.  I'm sorry," he could only manage. She looked everywhere but at him, but managed to finally meet his eyes, obscured as her gaze was by the lanks of mussed hair dangling in front.

"I know it wasn't you...let's just...get you inside, hm?"

She escorted him inside, forced him to eat some slices of fruit at the very least, and he managed a few more words of apology before lying down and immediately passing out.