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Save Point: Adhesive Sticking Point

The City Of Uruk

Sethkill grits his fangs together and asks them to go find the wound glue, "which is in my pack next to the green muscle salve."

Bracing himself, he pours the tiny ceramic jar of spirits of grain over the inevitably painful injury that results from having a couple of toes on the right side lopped off by the downswing of a heavy bronze sword in a match fight. This is more to clean the wound than out of any real necessity; given enough time the dislocated digits would grow back. Unfortunately, the next fight is in a couple of days at most.

Thoughtfully, after twitching with pain a couple of times and turning down the threshold on his nervous system, he pours what's left on the disconnected grey clawed fragment.

Mariel returns bearing the wound glue and a little tray and mixing stick that goes with it. Sethkill takes it from her hands, mixes the components together to let them react, then pries several folds of spirit-softened coarse linen bandage away from the would.

Mariel finds herself examining the intricate concentricities of sethura flesh and bone as revealed in cross-cut section. "You're going to glue your toes back on..!?" she exclaims for the second time.

"It's quicker than growing new ones," defends Sethkill, slapping several parts anaesthetic and one part anticoagulant viscously across his flesh before too much strangely dark blood can spring free. "The glue'll set in about five minutes, and the blood flow'll be back in under an hour. Sure they're a bit dead already, but I can heal that like it was conventional tissue damage. Hand me my toes."

Mariel, looking profoundly disturbed, approaches and passes him them at arms length by the claws. "Have you ever done this before?" she enquires, horrified but fascinated.

"Well, I heard about once there was a sethura who cut his cock off to give it to his girlfriend. She glued it to her clit and was up and about chasing bitches in no time. Of course she was in charge of the relationship until his kit grew back."

Mariels jaw drops until she realises that Sethkill is trying his very best to keep what he thinks is a straight face. "Seriously, nothing this severe," admits Sethkill, "since the time I got chopped, I just passed out from total blood loss. I've seen it done in practice classes, though."

He carefully lines up the folds and creases in the skin, then pushes the inner toe into place, holding it carefully so the glue can dry. "The lady from the market will be so disappointed," he mutters, making tiny adjustments, then asks, "Can you hold that one while I do the other? It's mostly sticking," he adds, "if you could just hold it in place for a minute or so."

"It's lucky it was only the toes," he concludes. "Body strikes are a lot more tricky. This is really gonna nag, though, in a day or two. Anything I haven't quite aligned will have to change tissue type, which apparently feels really strange. By tomorrow I'll be shedding multiple layers of skin."

"Oh yes. Very lucky," observes Mariel weakly, as Sethkill puts his other toe back on. "That story of yours wouldn't actually work, would it? You know; not on people?"

"I don't know. I imagine it'd be a bit more complicated than that. I'm sure it could be done and it probably is, someplace."

Mariel appears to give the possibility bright and serious consideration, while staring at the heavy hang of Sethkills kevlar loinguard. "Nah, too big and spiky," she concludes, "it wouldn't fit in my tight little panties."

Sethkill grins broadly, showing lots of yellowed fangs.

"You're the wrong species anyway. Perhaps I could get Terrowne to lend me his tackle. It seems to work really well for relentlessly fucking hot cat-girls. Then we could all have a piece of her."

"You're jealous," exclaims Sethkill as it slowly dawns on him. "You want to sleep with her too."

"Not sleep with her, fuck her," explains Mariel carefully. "With a big, hard cock. She likes women too, of course, but only being fucked with an actual cock seems to really get to her. Which is what I want to do, to get to her. But my brother is the only one who seems to be able to do that and the two of them are busy fucking every spare second they get."

Sethkill considers her outburst in the light of its fascinating social implications, which Keselt would give eyeteeth for. Back home, a sethuress who broke her caul with a plain, stock-standard female genome but Mariel-style sexual inclinations would have had all sorts of progressive body modifications by now, to address her rather complex desires. Male and female are, after all, only starting points the sethura have retained to make it more fun, and there's no reason you can't be both or even neither, or something else entirely.

"Terrowne probably can't actually spare his bits that long," he begins cautiously, "and Cleo most probably couldn't either. But when we get back to my people in Khem, if you seriously want me to, I could call in some favours and get them to do some body modifications for you. We can do all sorts of things without changing anything you've already got."

"You know how I feel about that already," remonstrates Mariel. "There's a reason I chose not to be immortal. I just want one normal human life, with a start and an end. They already made my health perfect, and that's enough for me."

"Besides," she adds, "my deranged brother actually seems to be in love, and so I wouldn't want to compete with him, even if I could. It really wouldn't be right. I've never seen him like this before. He's almost normal after he spends the night with her."

"The glue has dried," Sethkill tells her, changing the subject. Mariel carefully peels away her fingers, leaving an expendable layer of her own dead skin to be the first of many.

"Think about it. There's no hurry," he calls out after her as she flicks her stinging fingers in mid-air and goes looking for the others.