Infusion, Insertion, Embroider

Caligari tried to remain detached as she tried in all things, but she was not a heartless woman. She was hardened, but she was not heartless. Tiella’s death was unexpected; was not one the witch had envisaged in advance. That was probably a testament to Tiella’s overall nature that she hadn’t earned any such imaginings from the witch. But now she was dead and Cali moved forward with the others to stare at the body.

Claim her soul…

Cali looked around the clearing for the source of the voice, but there was no one. They were all transfixed by Tiella’s death and aside from the sounds of Balar’s grief, there were no others.

Claim her soul…

She knew that cry - it was the assertiveness, the intonation that spoke of demand and reward simultaneously. She’d contended with it all her life, like a vein of thought she did not want to acknowledge - or a conscience in her head that did not belong to her.

Cali wasted no more time; she turned her back and began twisting the necrotic magic through the air, etching those sigils that would bind the spirit of Tiella to her. But that felt wrong, like stealing Tiella away from Balar. No, the binding must not be to herself or Balar, that was too cruel. Instead she pulled another spike from her crown and coiled it into a crude pendant. To the pendant she bound the soul of Tiella, for better or worse. Then the screams of Dyvia returned and Luna could be seen running out into the night. For fuck’s sake, why couldn’t that girl just do what she was told?

For the same reason you tell her what to do. It is in your nature.

Cali swept her hair back and pretended not to have heard. The others certainly didn’t seem to hear anything. She bent low to enter the tent and knelt by Olin’s side. He was somber and focused, keeping the air flowing in and out of Dyvia’s lungs, but they needed to stop the bleeding or it would be for nothing. And they could not count on the healing of Tiella. Poor Tiella. Cali looked at the primitive pendant in her hand; she could not entrust it to another, not yet. She looked down at the thin veil of spun smoke that she wore as intimate apparel; not a pocket to be had. So she carefully eased the trinket inside her own womanhood where it would be kept nice and safe and warm.

“Remind me to extract the pendant before our next volley in the bedroll. I’ll explain later, but do not let me forget.” Cali looked to Dyvia’s belly and saw that some work had already been done to mend the surgical seam, though Cali did not recognize the means. She could leave it be, but it would not do for Dyvia's belly to open up later and spill out. Best to make sure; Cali set about the task of sewing her up with necrotic sutures. There would definitely be a nasty scar. But at least she could think an apology to the Elf and that should be sufficient on that front.