[ . . The Collector:  Part Two . . ]
C O E R T H A S
   "It is time to begin," Marcelloix began, stepping aside and motioning towards the table set out in front of him, everything upon it meticulously placed. "Are you ready, Xheja?"
   A shred of hesitation was evident, a pause coming just before the Keeper woman answered. "Yes. I am ready." Her lips pulled into a small, if not anxious smile. Regardless, she stepped away from the window, drawing nearer to the table set out in front of the older Elezen man.
   Her silver eyes swept over the elaborate setup in front of her, examining every opened book, half-empty vial, and softly flickering candle with an almost alarmingly high attention to detail. It felt almost as if her aether was alight, buzzing.. Her senses felt raw and sharp, nose differentiating the smell of each different reagent present and eyes flicking back and forth rapidly between objects. Even her sense of touch as she ran her fingertips over the bumpy grain of the wooden table felt especially sensitive.
   Perhaps it was just her nerves coming to a head now that she was to come face-to-face with the answers she had sought for nigh on six years now, ever since Carteneau. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the entity that held those answers was a Voidsent. More likely, it was perhaps the uncertainty of the situation. Even though Marcelloix had assured her that the process should work flawlessly, in theory, the fact remained that there was no real precedent for what she was doing. At least, not that they had found in their fervent research. Even the most fortified hypotheses had a possibility to go awry in the heat of the moment.
   She couldn't stop herself from thinking on it, her gaze growing distant as she stared down at the table. What if she never returned? The concept of death was one thing, and truthfully, the thought of dying - truly dying - hadn't frightened her in years. What worried her now was the thought of life eternal, entrapped in an unknown realm or plane of existence home to malevolent, violent monsters of every sort imaginable. What absolutely terrified her, however, was the thought of becoming one of them..
    "Xheja?" The voice sounded distant to her ears, only seeming to really reach her as she finally looked up and met the man's pale blue-gray gaze. The corners of his lips turned down in a deep frown. "If you are having second thoughts.."
    "I'm fine. I was simply in thought."
   He regarded her quietly for a moment before simply nodding and turning back to the table, knowing better than to push the subject too far. For that, she was grateful. In this moment, she was feeling weaker than she had in a long time. Not physically weak, but mentally so. It was the type of weakness that made her feel like any slight bit of dissuasion from the other would quickly convince her to back out from the ritual.
   When Marcelloix's attention returned to her once more, he held a knife in his hands, pulling it free from its ornate sheath. The Keeper's silver eyes fell to it, studying it with a look of both dread and intrigue. The steel was immaculate and glittering in the candlelight, and it was obviously well-crafted. More than that, however, it seemed to glow softly with some unseen aetheric force. She could feel it.
   A shred of hesitation was evident, a pause coming just before the Keeper woman answered. "Yes. I am ready." Her lips pulled into a small, if not anxious smile. Regardless, she stepped away from the window, drawing nearer to the table set out in front of the older Elezen man.
   Her silver eyes swept over the elaborate setup in front of her, examining every opened book, half-empty vial, and softly flickering candle with an almost alarmingly high attention to detail. It felt almost as if her aether was alight, buzzing.. Her senses felt raw and sharp, nose differentiating the smell of each different reagent present and eyes flicking back and forth rapidly between objects. Even her sense of touch as she ran her fingertips over the bumpy grain of the wooden table felt especially sensitive.
   Perhaps it was just her nerves coming to a head now that she was to come face-to-face with the answers she had sought for nigh on six years now, ever since Carteneau. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the entity that held those answers was a Voidsent. More likely, it was perhaps the uncertainty of the situation. Even though Marcelloix had assured her that the process should work flawlessly, in theory, the fact remained that there was no real precedent for what she was doing. At least, not that they had found in their fervent research. Even the most fortified hypotheses had a possibility to go awry in the heat of the moment.
   She couldn't stop herself from thinking on it, her gaze growing distant as she stared down at the table. What if she never returned? The concept of death was one thing, and truthfully, the thought of dying - truly dying - hadn't frightened her in years. What worried her now was the thought of life eternal, entrapped in an unknown realm or plane of existence home to malevolent, violent monsters of every sort imaginable. What absolutely terrified her, however, was the thought of becoming one of them..
    "Xheja?" The voice sounded distant to her ears, only seeming to really reach her as she finally looked up and met the man's pale blue-gray gaze. The corners of his lips turned down in a deep frown. "If you are having second thoughts.."
    "I'm fine. I was simply in thought."
   He regarded her quietly for a moment before simply nodding and turning back to the table, knowing better than to push the subject too far. For that, she was grateful. In this moment, she was feeling weaker than she had in a long time. Not physically weak, but mentally so. It was the type of weakness that made her feel like any slight bit of dissuasion from the other would quickly convince her to back out from the ritual.
   When Marcelloix's attention returned to her once more, he held a knife in his hands, pulling it free from its ornate sheath. The Keeper's silver eyes fell to it, studying it with a look of both dread and intrigue. The steel was immaculate and glittering in the candlelight, and it was obviously well-crafted. More than that, however, it seemed to glow softly with some unseen aetheric force. She could feel it.
   "There is one last ingredient necessary in order to construct the path to the Void." The man shifted to extend his free hand towards her, palm open and upwards facing. "Your blood should be sufficient in channeling your aetheric connection with the Void. If you'd like, there are herbs with numbing properties.."
   Xheja shook her head, simply extending her hand to place it in his own. Her eyes rose to meet his, a weak smile taking to her lips. "That won't be necessary. I can handle a bit of pain."
   Without arguing, the Elezen man pressed the sharpened edge of the knife against the soft, tender flesh of her palm. The initial pressure was lacking, the blade simply pressed firmly against her skin. But after one last pause to ensure that she was fine, he pressed harder, the blade biting into her skin. A sharp hiss escaped her, her nose wrinkling and eyes pressing shut. Yet true to her word, she bit down on the inside of her bottom lip, stubbornly enduring the stinging pain.
   The dark, red blood immediately began to well at the wound, slowly pooling in her hand. A few fat drops fell heavily to the floor as the other gently guided her closer to the table, positioning her hand over a small bowl half-filled with various other reagents. He tilted her palm so that the blood began to drip downwards into it, watching carefully as if he were silently measuring each drop. When he had apparently gathered enough, he tilted her hand upright once more, reaching out with a free hand to grab a handkerchief and then press it firmly into her palm.
   "Press it firmly against the wound," he instructed.
   "I know, I know." She sighed quietly, though did exactly as she was bade.
   Wordlessly, Marcelloix's attention focused once more on the bowl in front of him, gently mixing the Keeper's blood in with the viscous mixture. Once it was thoroughly blended, he exchanged tools, extracting a thick bristled brush from his array of tools.
   As he dipped the end into the draught as if it were an inkpot, Xheja stepped closer to observe. Her eyes followed every movement he made closely as he drew a large circle in the empty center of the table, each addition he made making the design grow more and more complex. Circles within circles, interrupted by occasional sharp angles.. It was unlike anything the woman had ever seen before.
  Once the outline was finished, the Elezen man exchanged the large brush for a smaller one, dipping it in the mixture and then setting to work at filling in the details. Her head canted to the side, and as much as she did not wish to disturb him, she couldn't help her curiosity.
   "Is this.. arcanima? These circles and drawings.. They seem like what you would find within an arcanist's grimoire."Â
   "Not at all. Though the form may appear similar, this is an aetheric art of its own right." He paused in his writing to look to her, giving her a small smile. "These sorts of symbols and runes are used in the summoning of Voidsent. Though, for our objective, I've had to repurpose them.." Once again, Marcelloix trailed off, returning to his work.
   Now that he had mentioned it, she could see the marked differences. These runes were entirely unlike the Eorzean alphabet, possessed of an entirely different, foreign shape and form. Yet.. there was something oddly familiar about them. It was almost as if the miqo'te woman could read the words, but only in the most vague, intuitive sense of the word. It was a strange, indescribable feeling. Yet to feel this sort of connection to whatever this odd, unfamiliar Void language was.. Such unnerved her greatly.
   "Perhaps I truly am some sort of monster." The thought turned her stomach, her lips pulling into a deep and serious scowl. However, before she could lose herself in her own anxious, dark thoughts, the older man turned to her.
   "It is ready, Xheja. Step here, extend your hands, and place one in either circle on the sides of the diagram." He stepped aside for her to take his place, ever patient even as she hesitated.
   The breath seemed to catch in her lungs before she numbly stepped forward, turning to face the table. Looking down at the scrawlings, she could feel the dreadful aura of power radiating from it. She reached out both hands, stopping once more when they hovered just over the two empty circles awaiting them. Her hands were trembling.
   "Be brave," Marcelloix spoke up from beside her, his voice firm yet encouraging, seeming to sense her trepidation and its source. "You've resisted the Void's corruption once before when I gave you your first task. You will do so again. Have faith in yourself."
   Her head turned to look up at him, eyes wide and mouth falling open. But the words she wanted to speak died in her throat. No, I did not resist the Void's corruption, she wanted to tell him. J'suloh cut the man down before I even had the chance to be strong. Yet no matter how hard she tried to will the words to life, she simply couldn't. She was afraid, and it was far too late to turn back now and betray the man's trust.
   Slowly and silently, she nodded, letting her eyes fall back to the elaborate circling pattern in front of her. Her shaking hands lowered into position. A soft shudder ran down her spine suddenly at the almost electric feeling that traveled up her arms and through her chest, but she resisted the urge to recoil away from it. No, she had to continue. There was no turning back now.
   "Very good. Now channel your aether through the diagram, much like the focus of a staff or sceptre."
   Xheja let out the breath she had been holding as she complied, letting the aether course freely from her. It surprised her, how simple it was. In a way, it was simpler than even channeling through a weapon. It felt natural.
   Yet before she could ruminate on the strangeness for overlong, it was done. The odd patterns drawn onto the table glowed softly with her aether as a small, dark ball of.. nothing began to form at the circle's center. Her brows knitted as she watched it, slowly growing in size until it eventually filled the entirety of the inner ring.
   Those silver eyes widened as she watched the dark black and purple aether fluctuate and pulse, her stomach turning. Suddenly, now that she was facing the Void head-on, the fear was overwhelming. She wanted to run. Her heart felt as if it would beat right out of her chest, and her mind raced.
   However, when she tried to desperately pull her hands away, she could not. It was as if they were stuck there firmly by some unforeseen force, no matter how much she willed herself to back away. She wanted to scream and beg, but the words wouldn't come. All she could feel was the odd, sickening sensation of her aether - her very self - being pulled into that cold, black pit as the rest of the world around her faded away.
   And then there was nothing.
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|| . . . OOC Notes . . . ||
Part two! Though, there may end up being more like four or five parts instead of the originally planned three. Whoops. Just looking forward to getting this backstory finished~
