[color=00aeef][i][b]Nodah Listig[/b][/i][/color]

“I wouldn’t mind fighting you again sometime; I had fun.” Desdemona's voice seemed to come from the end of a long tunnel. Nodah rubbed his face wearily, feeling a headache begin to pound in his skull. [i]Lightning[/i], he thought as Desdemona slipped from the room. [i]A tad too excessive.[/i] When the door closed behind her, Nodah let out a groan. His arm fell once more to his side, but his wrist landed on a soft nest. Opening one bleary grey eye, he took in at once the folded clothes. Sitting up was a painful chore, but he reached for the long-sleeved white shirt and black slacks, which he recognised from his own backpack. Not about to question how his  clothes had come to be beside him, Nodah sat upright and pulled them towards him. Shedding his burnt clothes, he wore the fresh set. 

As he was tugging the blackened cotton shirt off him, he noticed feather-like branches that raced up the underside of his arms. Nodah looked closer, and realised the pattern reached all the way up to his shoulders. [i]I am in need of a mirror[/i], he thought, looking around the room, only to have his eyes light upon an ornate looking glass hanging lowly on the wall next to him. He peered into its reflective surface, and looked in quiet shock at the branches that encircled his neck, a wreath of thorns. He placed one finger to it, and felt it smart beneath his touch. [i]Mild singeing,[/i] he thought, with a wince as added pressure intensified the sharp pain. His hand dropped, and he stared critically at his own reflection. He now had a disc-shaped burn on his chest over his heart from the pendant. Pulling on the white shirt, he tugged back the long sleeves. His eyes fell to the golden necklace on the floor. It was utterly fine, in all aspects of the word, and when he clasped it around his neck once more, its kiss was as cool as it had always been.

Decent and dressed, Nodah placed his burnt clothes in a corner, deciding that salvaging them would be a vain attempt. As he was tucking his knife into his belt again, the door flickered alive before him, and he opened it to see the same dark hallway once more. He stared at the pitless end, and felt one foot inch away from the glowing exit. [i]The call of the void.[/i] Stopping himself abruptly, and tore himself away from the endless corridor, and walked to the final door.

Opening it bathed him in the light of the training hall, but Nodah did not think he would ever be blinded by light bulbs and candle flames ever again. He strolled through the hall, hiding the deep penetrating ache of his joints and the limp it brought with it. As he passed Desdemona on a bench, he flicked his fingers in a mild come-hither gesture, and summoned his dagger whizzing back to him. Catching it deftly by its handle, his steps came to a slow, and he paused thoughtfully before Desdemona. He studied Desdemona's blood that stained the blade, before turning sapphire blue eyes with barbed veiny etchings that flickered - pointedly - like lightning to the demon. [color=00aeef]"How fares your cut?"[/color] he asked, his voice hoarser, a croak, as he held out his hand, asking to see Desdemona's. His gaze fell to the feathery ribbons that wended their way up his palm, seeking shelter up his long sleeves. He wondered how far the patterns traversed his skin, if they would fade with time. He would have to seek a druid soon for assistance; walking to the medical wing would be so tiresome, and Nodah did not wish to exert his legs if he could avoid it.