Felix nodded slowly at Arsène’s gentle warning, if nothing else the man seemed determined to do something. He wasn’t sure if he was driven by a desire to help him, or to be smiled upon by this God that all holy men seemed so obsessed with, but he supposed it wasn’t of any concern. No matter what the driving force behind the actions they’d have the same outcome, and he wondered quietly what that outcome would be as he watched the priest prepare a bucket full of warm water. The man had blessed the water, but that didn’t concern him. He’d been assaulted with holy water in the past, it had never had even the slightest effect on the creature inside of him. He was fairly sure that the ashes Arsène was speaking of would have a similar effect, nothing seemed capable of touching his parasite, but then nothing had ever been done by a high priest such as the one before him. Perhaps things would be different this time. A man could only hope.<br/><br/>The mutterings within his brain picked up and increased in volume as his body was prepped for this bit of spiritual treatment. Felix did his best to ignore the incessant speech and he gazed up at his companion silently, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. His fingernails dug into the carpet ever so slightly in preparation for whatever was to come as Arsène set aside the sponge that he’d used to delicately swipe away the grime that had built up over Ix’s narrow chest. He kept a wary eye on the man as he twisted about to grab a hold of the jar of thick, blackened paste. He forewent pressing his lips together and he opened his mouth in order to take his lower lip between his teeth, his fingers scratching anxiously at the roughly textured carpet beneath him as he awaited the events that would either be explosively climatic or the exact opposite.<br/><br/>The jar was twisted open and the paintbrush was taken into hand. This was it, the moment of truth. Felix held his breath and bit down firmly onto his lower lip as Arsène lifted the brush up from the murky substance and slowly lowered it onto his freshly washed chest. At the last second he found that he simply couldn’t watch for any longer and he screwed his eyes shut tightly, preparing himself for the absolute worst. The murmurings in his head ceased when the ashed made contact with the boys deadened flesh, and Felix couldn’t help but omit a pitiful little whimper in response. It didn’t burn as he’d expected it to. His skin didn’t erupt into hideous boils nor did his body begin convulsing as the rage of a demon scorned burned within him. In fact, he felt nothing but the gentle, tickling strokes of the well worn brush and the warm breath of the priest who kneeled above him, focused intently down at his work. He could have fallen unconscious right then and there from the sheer relief that washed over him. Instead he just relaxed his head back down onto the floor and allowed his eyes to slip closed, his lip sliding from beneath his rows of slightly crooked teeth as his fingers released the poor carpet that he laid upon.<br/><br/>“I don’t mean to be rude, my Priest, but I don’t believe that it’s doing anything,” the boy whispered after the man had finished writing out whatever verse he’d wished to portray upon his wards mottled skin. “I don’t think it reacts the way you’d think it would to most of these things. Perhaps it’s too heavily rooted within my body.” A soft sigh escaped Ix’s dry, cracked lips as he averted his eyes from the holy man. “I did tell you that I was beyond help. You needn’t waste your precious time on me.”