minds divide the heart in two

There in the dead - Mor grinned weakly at the pun, only having learned of their existence a few days ago - of night stood a grotesque hulk of a man, if he could still be considered man. The last time he could accurately be called man was almost a decade ago - now he stood, massive upon his reptilian legs. The usual robe he wore was completely missing, as the night was warm enough for him to only require a scarf. Fully exposed as he leaned over a tombstone were his tiny torso, marred with more scars and burns than many soldiers and thinner than it had been in the past few weeks, his actual pair of arms, almost like twigs next to those the world normally saw, the scaled bulb on his lower back, and the massive pair of folded gray wings behind him, the gradation to vibrant teal at the tips visible in the light of the fire he had going near the fence.

The raven - or the human? - was someone Mor had never seen before, and yet every fiber of his body was both frightened and excited. The sheer power his presence radiated was intoxicating, and his transformation left Mor disoriented. It was why he was leaning over the tomb in the first place - he had to grab onto something to stop himself from falling over.

At the side, on the fire, was a pot, filled with a large hunk of meat, onions, potatoes, herbs and tomatoes. He was making stew currently as he didn't particularly have interest in exhuming at the moment; regular visits to the cemetery meant he'd taken just about every possible useful corpse or piece there. Instead, he began frequenting it to think, as it seemed to clear out his thoughts, which were more constantly being disorganized ever since he assimilated the wings into his form.

"Good evening. I hear you're a collector."

Mor hid his face in his scarf to hide the excited, almost deranged grin that he could not quite stop from manifesting from this person. Being in Starlight taught him many things, and something in that environment for whatever reason made him more and more prone to irrational emotion and displays of emotion, particularly in the proximity of the powerful.

And he could very clearly sense that this person was powerful.

"In technicality. Collect organic material from magical sources. Assimilate matter, assimilate leftover power. Absorb into own essence, weave together with preexisting essence. Splice into something new." He shook his head after speaking - he had to get himself back in control. There was pride in his voice, which was not a good sign.

Cautiously, he stepped over to his pot, turning his back on the man yet facing him with the spare eyes on his spine. "What is the reason for this inquiry?"

Demon or whatever mattered not to Mor - what did was the implied threat and potential of their power. An urge to attack ran through his mind. Attack. Seize power. Grow and learn.

Silently, he repressed it. Irrational urges were more and more common now. When faced with someone he could most likely not defeat, aggression would suddenly surge, and each time he had to beat it down. He focused on his stew to calm himself down and discussed his nature instead.

"My kind is common. Perhaps meant my like? Am human, originally. Upgrades, upgrades. Changed form. Grew stronger, learned more. Learned limitations. Mind affected by additions; hear voices, see things. Can suppress with difficulty. Difficulty rises with additions. Estimating impossibility of handling more than six and retaining rationality."

He spoke quickly - too quickly. The excitement was evident even through his flat speech. And yet, he couldn't quite suppress all of it. Especially with the invitation to display his capabilities, which he quite needed. There wasn't much opportunity to test his powers after all in such a peaceful place.

"Have currently four additions. Each gives different ability. Weaker than originary specimen. Legs - dragonkin. Gives magic resistance and regeneration. Physical strength much greater than own. Resistance prevents mental overwhelming when confronted with strong signatures." He kicked a hole into the stone base of the fence beside his stew, sending pebbles and dust everywhere.

"Wings from unidentified bird from here. Limited flight, but grants electrical emission. Electricity more valuable than flight," he continued as he struck down an unfortunate crow startled away from its perch by the sound of shattering stone with a mild blast of lightning from his lower right arm. It fell into the clutches of two of his arms, paralyzed but alive. "Output adjustable for precision. At maximum, produces half energy of natural lightning."

The fire upon which his stew stewed grew dimmer. Mor walked to a nearby pile of twigs and set them alight with a burst of flame from his free hands, transferring the stew to the brighter fire. "Third ability from upper pair of arms. Obtained from pyromancer. Can reach blue on temperature spectrum, at most. Output situational, adjustable."

Satisfied with the fire for his cooking, Mor turned to the man. He stepped close, stopping only one stride away from him. He held the bird up, dangling by its right leg from his hands.

"Last power foreign to Manta Carlos. Acquired from monstrosity from homeland. Comes from sac on rear end. Allows..."

Black smoke issued from Mor's hands, engulfing the unfortunate crow. It decayed rapidly, and he let it drop to the floor after three seconds, now nothing but a pile of bones with a small amount of decayed flesh left in various parts.

"...decaying of organic matter."

Mor almost literally had to slap his own hands from reaching out to the vial. Stop. Retain control, he thought to himself. There was more than urge, and his rationality had to stay in front. There was more to Mor than beast, if physically that was untrue.

"Offer generous, but lacking. Reason behind proposition unclear. Must know risks, must know costs. Unlikely to be purely altruistic offer. High possibility of unmentioned cost. Stew?" Mor held up a bowl of beef stew and sat down on the grass, bringing his pot closer to himself. There on his legs he rested it, not feeling its heat through his rigid, tense scales.

The bowl he rested on a nearby gravestone, waiting on the man to take it. He contemplated the offer while basking in the fumes of oregano and laurel issuing from below his face. There were a great amount of risk involved - but then again, did he ever let that stop him? The very first experience with assimilation was a massive all - or - nothing that defied all logic.

Somehow the man's presence loosened his lips. Or perhaps it was because he was the first to not be openly against his functionality. "Used to risk, but had enough with such odds. Almost died to leg addition. Had choice - certain survival, or large chance of death along with greater power. Not risking again without information."

"Meaning misunderstood. Am asking about cost in terms of payment. No offers made without payment expected in return. More concerned about requisite payment than biological risk. Prepared for possibility of damage or death."

The stew from the bowl went back into the pot, Mor hiding the mild insult from his cooking being denied. Never did it do well to show such petty emotions. It also never did well to mess up one's words when talking of trade, as he just did. Doing so often led to failed exchanges.

He had to weigh his options properly though, now that there was an implied time limit on the offer. This man - entity, perhaps - knew how to do business well, and that was annoying. Shrugging, he pulled himself off the ground. The stew would have to wait.

With a closer look he inspected the vial, leaning close. "Death by common animal suggests lack of regenerative capabilities. Durability powers ruled out. No postmortem triggers, no evident elemental ability. No hint of transformative power. Hmm."

The faint emanation of leftover magic still stayed there though, clear to him, although overpowered by the man's own presence. It was unfamiliar enough to merit the gamble on its own, though he still had to ply the risks as much as he could.

"Will accept offer upon explanation of offer. Only missing piece of information."

Mor set the contract aside with a dismissive glance at it. "No need for document or unfamiliar names. Reason disclosed, found agreeable. Notifying of delay; must first accomplish primary goal for evening."

Almost snidely - if he could even be snide - he added, "Contract will not stop you from other motives either way."

He walked away, his vestigial eyes fixed on the demon with an unmoving, unseeing stare. A change of eyes was in order soon enough. And as a matter of fact he was planning on plopping in a new set into his back, with a jar full of eyeballs freshly procured from a bunch of biology classes in the past few days ready and waiting. Eyes weren't like the other parts he dealt with - they had to be recent, and in good condition.

The bag where he stored his pot and his ingredients contained a few more things, which he weren't quite expecting to see as much use. Within were a pair of scalpels, some needles and thread, the jar of eyes, and a bunch of handheld mirrors. All of which he took out, and he set to work on removing the nonfunctional eyes on his lower back.

All four of his hands deftly moved about, each following a certain command. One pair held one mirror each, one in front and the other at the back, allowing vision of the operation, as the other pair in cleanly plucked eyeballs and stuffed new ones in. Nerves that were never meant to be there in the first place found themselves regrowing and attaching to eyes that were similarly as out of place, as Mor all the while talked.

"Will require assistance for addition of new material. Incomplete organs must be transplanted into preexisting organs; cannot properly function or be assimilated if in wrong place. Cannot properly operate on cardiac area. Exposure of heart to external environment carries high risk of injury. Difficult to perform especially with possibility of magical surge from part."