Rictus Mortis

The sun sparkled off the water in a beautiful dappling pattern. It was a lovely sight Michael wished he could share. The scars on Morgan's skin were already fading to fine white lines and the sun-dappled water seem to envelop him like a golden robe. Michael watched him from the bank while lazily listening to the the birds call to each other. As Morgan's back breached the surface, rivulets of water sparkled and a faint shimmering could be seen on his skin's surface. This happened a couple more times and Michael thought he could pick out sigils in the shimmering. Michael whistled sharply. Morgan came ashore. Michael squinted at Morgan's back. He could almost see something.

“There's an illusion of marks or tattoos on your skin. If I try to look too hard, they disappear, but they're faintly visible in the sunlight and water.”

“There are sigils there, geas binds, skin enchants, different marks of war. They can be seen arcanely.”

“Arcanely?” Michael echoed with an intrigued voice. He fetched up Morgan's spectacles and put them on. Quietly, an incant left his lips. Morgan's back prickled with energy and displayed a diverse amount of runes and symbols. Several more appeared on his throat, chest and face. Some Michael recognized as enhancements to strength and endurance. One of them looked like it might be a soul preservation thing, but most he didn't know. They all looked gemeni or elvish. “Do you know what all of these do?”

Morgan had an expression of embarrassed guilt. “I know what several of them do, but not all.”

Michael traced one that was over Morgan's heart. “That one I had put there because I started suffering chest pains and arrythmia during missions. It will defibrillate my heart if it stops. I have the element plasma, which gives me control over electricity. Oh, do quit worrying. This one prevents me from dying from systemic shock. I can be cut in half and not die immediately. Yes, when I do die, the stasis period is severely painful.”

“Morgan, you are, without a doubt, an intriguing read.”

As Michael's finger traced a rune on his face, it lit and tingled to the touch.

“That one is a geas,” Morgan stated.

There were three of them woven closely together, but this one was the largest. Michael did not need to ask with whom it was bound. It crossed directly over Morgan's left temple and arched across his third eye. Michael did outwardly wonder if breaking the geas would have any noticeable effects. Morgan answered the unspoken question, “A temporary geas, which most are, are often broken. The ramifications are social or personal, but not physical. Few have tested breaking a bind that has been held so long. If I tried to break it, I would probably end up somewhat akin to a lobotomy patient.”

Michael dropped his hand to his side. He removed the spectacles and walked back to the cabin and placed them in their spot. Morgan came in behind him and closed the door. Michael sensed the wards come up as the threshhold was closed. “Why can't life be simple, brother? Would it have been so bad to let you grow up a normal person?”

“You are not normal, either. You are extraordinary, magical, superlative.”

“I'm also rational and functional and sane.”

“I am functional most of the time. I am rational most of the time. I am also sane most of the time. Just... usually... not at the same time.”