Trista
It was a quiet evening, as Barom tromped his way through the woods. Twigs and shrubs cracked and crumpled under his heavy boots, and the sounds of hooting owls and other nocturnal life came to his ears. The myriad of forest scents lingered in the air, the various fruits, grasses, blossoms, and herbs made for a pleasant mixture of aromas. Above, through gaps in the tree canopy, beams of moonlight occasionally broke through the leaves, creating patches of pale light here and there. The only thing that marred this pleasant evening was that Barom was alone. It wasn't something he cared for, but with his tribe missing, it was something he had to put up with a lot recently.

Stifling a yawn, Barom gazed about, looking for a good place to make camp for the night. Food supplies were good, thanks to the elk he had hunted and butchered not long ago. There were always fresh herbs and berries to be found too, if one knew where to look. He just wanted to find a source of water and top off his waterskin before settling down for the night. Still, as the evening wore on, leaving that task for morning seemed more and more palatable. Still, for now, he walked on, using his spear as a walking stick.
Marquetta
The feeling of weightlessness left as quickly as it came as the rift Daphell had fallen through seemed to spit him out. He'd only remembered the brief conversation he'd been having with his companion before they'd both been left on unstable ground and separated. Why the Gods demanded he end up in the middle of the woods was a mystery he couldn't clearly articulate, as unfortunately his thoughts were interrupted over and over by the sting of branches hitting him on the way down to the ground.

As he landed, a tinkling noise made his blood feel iced over, especially as it was accompanied by a sharp pain to his left side. He weakly pushed himself up and looked down, noticing that the bottle containing the Malice catalyst had been crushed in the fall and was slowly spreading over his chest. He cursed quietly to himself, knowing well that if he weren't alone this would be an easy fix. And yet, he was indeed without any help out here, in a strange place that seemed... Oddly familiar. 

"Gah!" He yelled.

The pain of his curse began to root itself more firmly in his mind, a feeling of slowly but surely disappearing further into the back of his brain. He tried to stand but knelt back down as a large branch laceration on his right leg had not yet healed over. His left had began to flicker, the triangular mark shining its best to dispel the muck the rest of him was morphing into. His eyes searched for anything, *Anyone* In the woods that could stop this, as the tusks grew firmly into place and his body curled into a boarlike shape and squealed loud.
Trista
Barom paused as he heard a yell in the near distance in the woods. It sounded hylian or sheikah, a short exclamation of pain and surprise. So the moblin wasn't alone in the woods. But sheikahs or hylians weren't very friendly to moblins. Sighing in annoyance, Barom decided to head the other way, lest a fight get started the moment he was seen. 

However, he soon paused, and sniffed at the air. His great snout flared as it picked up the scents on the wind. There, amid all the aromas and odors of the forest, there was the tinge of something faint but acrid and rancid. A stench of rot, of grief, of anger, of an ancient malevolent power. "I know tha' scent," Barom said to himself, in an angry half growl. "Malice." Memories of his old enslavement and possession arose unbidden and unwelcome in his mind. 

If there was Malice here, then that lone sheikah would be in trouble. Especially since it seemed like the stink of Malice was coming in the same direction he heard the yell. Turning around, Barom began running through the woods, trampling through underbrush and snapping branches and sticks. He charged in Daphell's direction, not taking long to reach him. Shoving aside one particularly large cluster of leaves, he saw him. Or rather, what Malice was twisting him into. A large, boar like creature of the black, viscous ooze.

"Oi! Release th' boy, now!" Barom shouted, stepping forward. He held his spear at the ready, doubting his command would do much. It was likely going to be a fight. That was just fine by the moblin, he enjoyed a good fight.
Marquetta
Daphell, barely clinging to his consciousness, stirred as he heard the faint approach. His eyes, though red and clouded with the hatred of an eternity not his own, begged whoever was there to do something. *Anything.*

A voice echoed through the dark he'd sunken further into, a nasty malevolent cacophony that twisted into a menacing amalgam of words. *"Until the day you die,"* It hissed as inky appendages further dragged him from his already narrow window of vision, *"You and I will be together as one."* A sickening laugh rattled through the man's bones.

The request of the person beyond his line of sight cut through the dark, if only for a moment. Daphell sharply breathed in and tried to shout back, only to find that the curse had already overtaken his lungs and throat. He couldn't scream out to the man to run, to get help, to find some way to reverse this. He couldn't even tell him that this thing that was attached to him... *Was* Him, in a sick way.

As the window of his vision drew as far away as the moon in the sky is to those on the Gods' Green Hyrule, his body began to go on the attack, turning and rushing the stranger to try and gore him with its tusks.
Trista
The beast of Malice didn't listen to Barom, not that he expected it would. But the Malice hadn't completely overtaken the sheikah, there was still some part of him that was trying to fight back and resist. It wasn't going well, but whoever it was wasn't giving up. Barom had to respect the defiance in the face of the inevitable.

As the beast roared at him and charged, Barom roared back with a loud Moblin bellow. He charged forward as well, though he didn't level his spear. He wanted to help whoever the Malice was trying to overtake, and to that end skewering them probably wouldn't be helpful. Instead, as the two rapidly closed the distance between them, Barom swung his spear in a wide horizontal arc. He aimed to bash the head of the beast with the spear shaft. Barom figured he could think up a solution once he had battered the monster into unconsciousness.
Marquetta
A strong whack to the face hit both the boar and Daphell, and while the former squealed and lost focus, the latter managed to pull himself from the muck for a moment. As he was slammed into a nearby tree with a notable crack, the muck retreated from his face and allowed him to gasp for air. As he relished the momentary relief, his eyes locked onto the mountain of a Moblin who appeared to be attacking him.

He was puzzled on multiple fronts— first, Moblins usually attacked him rather than the Malice attached to him, if that was what was actually happening. But secondly, his gear included of boys and pieces incoherent with any lumbering brute. 

Whatever look he had, it wasn't meant to last. As his spine cracked back into place the pain in his legs became apparent. His vision began to grow dark again, so he desperately cried out, hoping that his hunch wasn't just leftover idealism from his friend.

"It... It learns!"
Trista
*It learns*? What was the sheikah trying to say? Was this a comment on Barom's speech? He had seen a lot of people express surprise, even shock, at a Moblin that was fluent in Hylian. But no, he seemed far too desperate to be worrying about moblin speech right now. No, this was an attempt to warn Barom about something. This creature of malice possessing the hylian was smarter than it looked.

Barom watched as the malice beast recovered from the strong hit to the skull. It's shifting and regeneration made rather grotesque noises of bones cracking and repositioning. That would make things tricky, beating down the malice creature without killing the person it was possessing. The thought of the possession made Barom's blood boil.

Well, it wasn't the only thing here that could learn. Barom strode forward, and swung his spear shaft again in a repeat of the last attack. But given Daphell's warning, Barom expected the creature to dodge or duck out of the way. He prepared a quick follow up kick to catch the monster while it was avoiding the spear swing.
Marquetta
As he sunk further, he watched the Moblin study him and began inwardly nodding to himself. There was an understanding, however wordless, that seemed to be blooming. He wasn't sure how well he could trust a Moblin of all creatures, but if the pig-man understood his words enough to hesitate, it meant he could be reasoned with.

As his body squared up for another round of hell, he began making his prayers that he'd not only found a friend rather than a foe, but more importantly someone who was not sympathetic to the wretched evil that did this to him. The rage that burned in his heart listening to Yiga prattle on and on about their "Master" Was enough to make him sick, and he knew not if the Moblin was against such considering the allegiances of the kind Daphell had encountered in the past.

The Moblin had swung his spear again, and the boar, rather than outright jump to one side or the other, flipped backwards. The world slowed and Daphell's stomach sank in the state of a Flurry Rush, but as he tried to utter an 'I told you so', a surprising thing occurred— the Moblin delivered an anticipated kick to the boar's side, causing it and consequently the Sheikah man into the side of a rock. This time, he crumpled to the ground with his back up, and a large red and yellow eye opened against his spine.
Trista
Though pleased to see that his gambit had paid off, Barom's eyes narrowed when he saw the alien eye opening up on the beast's back. He recognized them from his time possessed. The putrid organic Malice that infested locations often spawned eyes. And more than once, he saw the Malice recede when the eyes were destroyed. Perhaps the same would happen here.

With the beast crumpled on the ground, Barom charged forward. As he neared, he thrust with his spear, aiming for the eye. He aimed to make it a glancing blow, though, trying to hit the eye across the top without actually stabbing into the spine itself.
Marquetta
Daphell screeched as the spear grazed the eye, slicing through the cornea and into the lens just enough to force it to recede more. It hurt— it stung like crazy whenever the weak points were hit— but it was the only real thing he could think of in absence of his usual methods. He just hoped the Moblin had something on hand to assist with containment, as he knew it would be a constant effort to stave it off otherwise.

As the Malice crawled along the side and settled at his shoulder, furthest away from the Moblin as it was now clearly in fear, Daphell tried to push his upper half off the ground. Unfortunately, his arms were shaky and weak just from the drainage of his curse, and he flopped back onto the ground. Lucky for him, at least he'd turned his head to the being that was either his assailant or his rescuer— the jury was still out in that call. Regardless, some words were in order, even if said through a series of panting breaths.

"You're... Quite strong with that stick of yours. You... Wouldn't happen to be carrying an empty bottle... Would you?"
Trista
His idea seemed to be working, and the Malice was receding. At the very least, it was no longer blindly attacking him, but now seemed to fear him instead. And it's host was starting to regain control. Curiously, he was asking for an empty bottle. The moblin raised an eyebrow, but then rummaged around in his satchel for a bit. Eventually, he pulled out a small clay bottle, removed the lid, and upturned it. A little bit of dried hyrule herb fell out. 

"Here. It's th' closest I gots," Barom said, offering the clay bottle to the sheikah. "Now, wha's goin' on with tha' stuff crawlin' on ya? I've gots a good knife, I could try cuttin' it off of ya."
Barbara
Daphell looked at the Hyrule Herb and nodded slowly. "T-Thanks," He said. Knowing he was already recovering, he began to sit up. "You ought to take the herb back though," He said, taking the bottle and gently pressing it to the Malice on his shoulder. "It's good for cooking and it would be a waste not to have it..."

Daphell was aware that he was talking to someone he assumed would normally have been at odds with him, but his brain was too riddled with the swirl of adrenaline and exhaustion for him to address it. Instead, he took out one of his Twin Blades and began to slice into the section of his shoulder just below the lip of the jar. The Malice squirmed against his blade and was reluctant to obey, but his pressing forced it into the jar as he cut a chunk off. Fortunately, it was the chunk with the eye.

"Thank you for the offer but... I don't want to sully a good knife with my rotten blood."
Trista
"It's also decent in healin' potions an' medicines." Barom said, . "But it's also easy t' find too. Tha' stuff was old anyway, I was lookin' t' get some fresher soon. An' it looked like ya could use tha' jar. Though, why bother keepin' tha' little piece of black crap? Jus' chuck tha' jar into a good bonfire an' roast tha' little maggot."

"Jus' how did ya gets stuck with it in th' first place?" Barom asked. "I've seen th' likes before, durin' tha' Calamity Ganon business. But never on people, jus' coatin' walls an' th' ground. Ganon never really possessed hylians anyway, jus' monsters like lizalfos, bokoblins, an' moblins. Don't tell me ya took 'em up on his offers of wealth an' powers. Old Giromha saw through his lies easily enough."
Marquetta
Daphell tilted his head. "I have to keep a piece of it with me in the event that I have to... Overclock my abilities. Under normal circumstances I would do just that, but sometimes it's the only choice between life and death... And even then it's hardly ideal, as you can see." He paused. "What's going on with me is... Complicated."

He looked out into the Woods. "You aren't wrong— generally the Malice doesn't stick to humans so easily. Sticking to walls and clinging to monsterfolk seems to be more in line." He folded his legs in after corking the jar. He swallowed his spit as he remembered what was wrong with him and as he gathered the strength to speak its name. In the back of his mind, he heard the 49 voices chattering in a droning whisper, almost as if they were begging him to tell the world of each of their horrific fates.

"This... This isn't a possession, it's... I'm... I was turned into... *This* By some seriously sick people. It's an infection that's rotted me to the core. I'm pretty sure that if my insides were cut open all you'd find was black ink." He breathed in and out. "I was a normal boy for the most part until they tried to turn me into a Blight."
Trista
Barom just scratched his head as he listened to Daphell's explanation about what happened. "Uh, yeah... Ain' gonna lie, a lot of tha' kinda went over my head." Barom said, his tone rather confused. "Sounds like somethin' tha' Ganon would get up to though. But fixin' somethin' like tha'? I don' know if there's any salve or potion tha' could cure it. At least it's contained fer now. But I'd get yerself a metal vial or somethin'. Tha' clay is pretty fragile."

Barom paused, sniffing at the air again. Without the malodorous smell of the malice clogging the air, Barom could pick out more scents. Amid all the smells of the forest, there was one that caught his attention. It was faint, but it gave him hope. Clear water and Silent Princess. Those only grew in pure areas, and water there meant a fairy pond. "But... Ya jus' might be in luck. There may be someone nearby who can help ya. Follow me," Barom said, walking in the direction of the scents. "Name's Barom, by th' way. Barom of th' Rohg tribe. Jus' so ya know, we never did join Ganon. Leastways, not willingly. He's no friend of ours."
Marquetta
Daphell nodded. "I suppose it's nice to meet you, Barom. My name is Daphell Koshia." 

I'm grateful someone else understands how... How *Mind-rending* It feels to be controlled... Thank goodness then. And... You said something about an 'Old Giromha'..." He wistfully looked around the woods before shakily standing. "A tribe full of Moblins who made choices and understood the Calamity... A close friend of mine would be scribbling in his notes right about now..."

He shook his head clear as he realized he was getting distracted. "Right, fairy fountain... Which one are we seeing? Tera? Mija? It's been a while since I saw them..."
Trista
"Old Giromha is th' oldest an' wisest of our tribe. She saw through Ganon's lies. He promised moblins glory, wealth, meat, an' good fights. But Old Giromha knew it'd come at th' expense of our free will. So we hid, an' when we were found we fought back." Barom explained. "Th' time I spent possessed... It still troubles me, I'll admit. Havin' somethin' in yer head tha' shoves ya aside, and seizes the reins of yer body outta yer hands. Tha's th' sort of thing that haunts ya. But now I'm free, and alive while Ganon ain't. So things are lookin up."

Soon, the giant flower bud of a fairy pond came into view. "Dunno which one is here, but maybe they could help us." Barom said, approaching the giant flower bud. Even as he neared it peeled open. With a laugh, the silver haired great fairy burst out, before lounging on the petals and looking over the two.

"Why, if it isn't the little Wind Chaser! So nice to see you again, Barom." Tera said with a cheery smile. "I decided the desert dust wasn't for me, so I came here instead."

"Good to see ya too. Tera, this is Daphell. Daphell, Tera. Heh. Bet yer surprised a moblin like me knows a great fairy? It's a long story, but th' short version is she saved my life in the desert." Barom said. "Tera, somethin's wrong with Daphell here. He's got some sort of... I dunno, malice infection? Can ya help him out?"

The great fairy turned her gaze on Daphell, and her cheery smile started to fade. "You've got quite the curse there, my friend. It's rooted very deeply." She said, her voice showing pity for Daphell's plight. "I don't know if my magic, potent as it is, can heal you. But it might still help somewhat."
Marquetta
Daphell felt a ripple of fear deep inside his body— whatever he was made of did not like magic or the sacred. But even with that in mind, he cautiously stepped up.

"I haven't seen you in... Four moons, at least? And I could have sworn that—"

"Hang on," Tera said, her kind voice almost perfuming the air. "I don't recall us meeting before. I tend to know all who seek me out, but I've never seen you here."

Daphell thought for a moment. "I came through a hole in the sky," He said. "Is that... Why everything feels so different than here? I'm not... Home?" 

A look of horror spread over his face. Where was his companion? Was he waiting for him, alone and afraid? Was... Was *He* Alone? How was he supposed to defend himself if he ever had another vessel break like earlier?
Trista
Barom gave a look of concern as Daphell and Tera talked about them not meeting and Daphell coming from a hole in the sky. "Seems like. Fer wha' it's worth, I feel fer ya." Barom said. "Ain't th' first time somethin' like this has happened. Lotsa folks poppin' up here from other worlds. Who knows, maybe someone else from yer world popped up here too?"

"Anyway, dunno wha' I can do t' help with tha'." Barom said. "I'm jus' a moblin. Ain't gots th' brains fer this. But maybe I can help ya find somethin' better than tha' clay jar. There's th' ruins of an old hylian war camp nearby. I'm gonna go an' root through it an' hopefully find ya somethin' a bit sturdier." He gave a nod to Tera, who responded with a friendly wave, before heading over to some of the nearby collapsing wooden structures. He started pulling open a few aged wood crates and investigating their contents.
Marquetta
Daphell thought for a moment before nodded to himself. "Tera, I understand you are a creature of great pity and kindness... I admit that there are people who I fear I'll never see again. My father Dorian, my sisters, Miss Paya... My companion..." He shifted on his feet. "I want to be able to remain at least a little longer with Barom considering the Envoy of Kindness he has become to you. While he hits hard and knows to think ahead, he could use some company and I sense that perhaps being alone right now wouldn't be wise."

He looked at the clay jar, then to Barom. "I owe it to him for bringing me back from the dark."
Trista
"Me? I didn't do tha' much." Barom said, looking up from his scavenging. He had a glass jar in his hands, but when he saw it was cracked, he just shrugged and tossed it over one shoulder. "I saw one of Ganon's leftover bits of hate, an' I took it out. Jus' glad I could do it without hurtin' ya too much. Heh. First time I've been called an Envoy of Kindness too. I'm jus' a moblin. Maybe a little brighter than most of 'em, but still. I enjoy my fights, an' my ale." 

A bit more rooting around eventually produced a metal canteen. It had some rust on the outside, thanks to the swamy terrain that had overtaken much of the military camp ruins, but it still looked intact. "Here, this might be safer than th' clay jar." Barom said, coming back over to Daphell's side. "Still think ya should pitch tha' bit of black crap into a fire, but if ya wants t' risk keepin' it around, tha's up to ya." 

"Either way, it's late, an' this is a good place t' camp. Few places are safer than next to a great fairy fountain. With yer permission, Tera." Barom said, gathering up some wood to start a small fire. Tera just gave the two of them a smile, and gestured to the space in front of her fountain. "If ya wants t' join me on th' road fer a bit, tha's fine. I was gettin' weary of travelin' alone. Jus' be warned, I've been told I snore. Pretty loudly." Getting the small fire going, Barom set about roasting a few apple on the end of one of his javelins. He also got out some smoked, salted meat and sausage he had prepared not long ago, and offered some to Daphell. "Don' worry, it's elk. Hunted it myself last week. Damn fine hide."
Marquetta
"I wish I could toss it away, too. But even with the risk, avoiding killing the eye and keeping it close to my body keeps the rest of me from growing out of control." The Sheikah sighed. "I'm sorry that there wasn't much to be done about my curse, though I already sorta knew it all things considered."

Daphell sat down as camp was set and began fiddling with the canteen. "Snoring shouldn't be too big of a problem, all things considered. The Hideout had a snorer guarding my cell for months. So long as there isn't the sound of metal bars, it won't be trouble. Though I do have to warn you that when I sleep I tend to have nightmares, so if you see me roaming around before dawn, don't be too surprised."

After the fire had started and he was offered food, he gingerly took it, examined it for a moment, and began eating. He'd forgotten how hungry the Malice would make him after being exhausted. "This is pretty good... And you said something about hide, do you work with leather?"
Trista
"Yeah. Furs an' leather. I can make 'em into all sorts of things. Like this vest. Dodongo leather, ya know. Tricky part is gettin' an intact body t' butcher. Gotta kill 'em just right t' release their fire, otherwise they blow up." Barom explained. " Eventually, when I kill a beast with a strong enough hide, I'm gonna start makin' it into some proper armor. With all th' strange stuff goin' on as of late, buncha people poppin' outta portals. I jus' gots the feelin' tha' things are gonna get dangerous sooner or later. I wants to be ready. Besides, it'd be proof of my skill in battle, wearin' armor made from some great beast. If ya kill somethin' worthy, I could do th' same fer ya too."

"Seems like ya could use a hand anyway. No offense." Barom said. "Yer worried about bein' separated from yer people or tribe, ain't ya? I know th' feelin'. My whole tribe was conquered an' enslaved by Calamity Ganon, an' scattered everywhere over hyrule. No idea where they are. But I'm gonna look for 'em. Why don't ya tell me about yer people? Tha' companion ya mentioned. If I find news of 'em in my searchin', I could send it yer way."
Marquetta
Daphell's face reddened up as he became flustered. It was rare that someone would offer him something so soon into knowing them, so to speak of a gift or favor so soon was... Touching, to say the least. Aside from the canteen of course, which was more for necessity than anything. "Well, once I find the perfect one I'll have to see on it. But Dodongo hide? I don't think I've ever even seen one of them before."

"No offense taken. I know I need assistance, I just... The person who usually manages me had a shaving of sacred metal he'd use to jab me in the neck before it got too bad." He thought about it for a moment and rubbed at his jugular before getting to work moving the Malice to the new vessel, first by sticking his ring and pinky fingers of his right hand into the jar for it to cling to. He eyed one of his blades, which he'd laid down nearby, as he knew he'd need it soon.

"My companion... Tell me, what do you know about Picori?" He asked.
Trista
Barom paused in his meal, and scratched at his chin with a hand. "Picori... Picori... Tha's ringin' like a bell." He murmured to himself. After a bit, he snapped his fingers. "Tha's right! The mouse fae! Old Giromha had a few tales about 'em. Little mouse like folk tha' are benevolent spirits, or some such. They likes hidin' rupees, kinstones, an' other little goodies around, spreadin' a bit of chaotic happiness here an' there."

"I ain't ever seen one, but it's said th' young whelps could see 'em, at least fer a few winters." Barom said. "But Old Giromha, she said she could see 'em, despite her grey fur. Talk to 'em too. It looked like she was jus' talkin' to herself, but if she asked 'em for a herb an' traded 'em a candied fruit, th' next day, there'd be freshly cut herb fillin' a bowl in 'er tent. So, ya mean t' say yer companion was one of th' mouse fae? One of th' picori?"
Marquetta
Daphell smiled. "Indeed, though he's far beyond a simple mousefolk— he's a Sage capable of hiding among humankind with his magic. Though most of the time he likes to hitch a ride on me since I'm a lot scarier than he is." He paused and took another bite of meat. "He kept me sane while I was imprisoned by the Yiga, through all the rituals that made me into a Human Blight, and through both the Calamity and the Upheaval."

He moved the Malice into the canteen by shoving it in with his fingers, and even though it quietly screeched Daphell was as forceful as needed since it was usually pretty slippery. He carefully picked up his blade and prepared it for the next step, which he knew was going to hurt. 

"I'm pretty sure the Goddess had him aiding me. The Picori in general tend to be closely tied to Her Grace and thus leave little blessings everywhere as a result. That and finish projects in people's sleep just to watch them be happy. Strange creatures they are..."
Trista
"Old Giromha liked 'em. Tha's reason enough for me to as well, I guess." Barom said, shrugging. "But like I said, I can't see 'em. Though if I find Giromha, I'll ask her about yer little friend, an' she can ask the mouse fae tha' she knows, if ya gives me a name. Honestly, it might be a long shot, but th' more ya gots lookin' fer yer friend, th' better th' odds."

"Anyway, I gotta ask ya fer a favor in return." Barom said, finishing up his dinner. "From wha' I understand, boar moblins like me are rare in these parts. Mostly it's all th' tall lanky ones. So if ya sees a boar moblin, lemme know. Odds are good its from my tribe. Jus' be sure to keep yer distance, just in case. I think most of my tribe at least is smart enough t' remember Old Giromha's advice an' not pick needless fights, but ya never know."

"Anyway, dunno how long ya wants t' share the road. But if ya do head out on yer own way, keep an eye out fer an odd piece of parchment. It might have an enchantment fer talkin' to others with th' magic parchment." Barom said with a yawn. "It's been suggested some gor or another likes droppin' 'em off in people's way, fer some reason. I dunno, I's jus' a moblin, but it would be a way t' keep in touch over distances. Jus' might be tha' goddess ya mentioned."

Barom was preparing to head to sleep, but paused when he saw Daphell draw his knife. It looked like whatever he was planning, he didn't look like he was going to enjoy it. "Uhh... Ya gonna need help with tha'?" Barom asked after a moment of watching.
Marquetta
"His name is Kyneri. Sometimes he also goes by Serin, though that's more a personal nickname than anything else. Hopefully you'll run into him— he's fascinated by practically any new culture he can find. Any knowledge is good knowledge to the guy." He paused, about to brace himself. "As for boar Moblins, if I see any I'll do my best to alert them to your presence here— it's a shame to be alone."

Upon Barom asking if he needed help, the Sheikah shook his head. "I've done transfers before, this isn't much of an exception." Carefully and quickly he twisted the blade against his fingers, which came off like a knife through jelly. Daphell hissed a bit and closed the lid. "My fingers should be fine by morning. Though the air here feels a lot different than where I'm from so it might be a little longer."
Trista
"If I see 'em, I'll let ya know," Barom said, nodding. He got a look of confusion and worry as Daphell brought the knife to his own fingers, and grimaced when he saw him cut them off. "Eesh. Ya gotta do tha' t' keep tha' curse in line? Ya gots it rough," Barom commented. "At least it sounds like they grow back. Malice is messed up."

"Anyway, I'm callin' it a night." Barom said, laying down nearby the giant flower bud of the fairy fountain. He used a rolled up pelt as a pillow, but didn't opt for any other comforts. "Ain't sure where I'm goin' tomorrow. Jus' gonna follow th' road, an' see where it takes me I guess."
Marquetta
Daphell sat at the fire for a little bit, staring into the embers as his newfound companion drifted into sleep. He wasn't kidding about the snoring— he could wake a Wind Fish with such a ruckus— but it was manageable. He slowly stood up with a sword in his left hand and began walking to a nearby clearing when he was stopped by a large hand blocking his path.

"Where are you going?" Tera whispered.

"Paying him back for his efforts..." He said. He paused and handed her the old clay jar. "If it isn't too much to ask, can you fortify this while I gather what I'm looking for? Don't worry, I make certain it's free of Malice."

"He... Really shaped you, didn't he? That little creature... How curious."

Daphell smirked but continued down to the clearing and began his work, carefully harvesting the nearby herbs until there was more than enough for the jar. As he made his way back up, he wondered what was so curious about his bond with Kyneri. It wasn't as if they were inclined beyond a close friendship, but the way she said it, it was almost like she knew something he didn't.

Nevertheless, upon returning to the camping spot, the clay jar was filled and set at Barom's side. After that, he sat against a tree and took a deep breath, allowing himself to drift into what he hoped was at least someone restful of a slumber.