[Salone]

Na'lsa waved a hand through the air, the actual bone structure arriving at its resting point before the actual blood and skin did, causing a flurry of activity as it melded back together.

"I said I am no lap-dog. I said-!"

Na'lsa cut himself off. How did the Nephilim penetrate his mind? He felt raw power coursing through him, fresh from the heart he had devoured. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt as if he could strike down this twisted creature in front of him with a mere gesture. And yet...here he was. Speaking in his mind. This was a parlor trick Na'lsa did not know. And as enigmatic as Nephilim were to Na'lsa, for a moment he felt fear over what else Kesdeja might be capable of. He drew himself up, trying to make himself look fearless. After all, what could he do to Na'lsa, who controlled the very ebb and flow of flesh itself?

"Eventually. Eventually can be a long time, Kesdeja. But eventually, I will."

In the silence after he spoke, Na'lsa listened. It wasn't sound, but he could hear the very blood pumping through the bodies near him. The rise and fall of chests breathing. The very life coursing through them. However, one was weak. Breathing slow and raggedly. Turning his head, Na'lsa stared down at the old man's unconscious body. The very flesh seemed to reach out to him, to yearn for his meddling. He could feel the very heat of life radiating from his blemished skin, the blood pulsing in a joyous rhythm at the very thought of Na'lsa blessing him with his graces.

Na'lsa twisted his hand, and was inwardly surprised that he could feel a surge of adrenaline through the old body that had not been there a second ago. With immense satisfaction for his new discovery, he knocked his head back and crowed to the ceiling.

"Rise, Altiel! Your flesh need no longer take rest or respite!"