<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Holy water.. that apparently had been the extent that others had gone to in order to help someone that was truly sick. There was no telling how he might react to the sort of things Arsène was thinking about now and in the future. He watched his reaction, but he seemed quietly reserved to the request of stripping and laying prone so that the priest could do something that he didn't promise would be easy on him. He still tried to explain things, to mentally prepare him. Upon getting a better look at Felix's body, he was worried for him. So far he hadn't seen him be anything but calm, but his body was that of someone truly afflicted.<br/>
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“Try to warn me if you can, to ease up should I need to. We only have to push so much,” Arsène told him, unsure if he was well enough for anything that was going to put physical strain on his already frail looking body. He pulled a bucket of water forward and blessed it quickly before taking a stone from the fireplace, to drop within. It sizzled but also heated the water. He didn't want Felix shivering, but he was dirty, and he preferred to work with a clean canvas. With a sponge, he began wiping down the expanse of the sinner's chest. He'd already said the holy water hadn't done anything, but he had still tested a smaller area before proceeding. He was clinical about it, in his priestly way. His vision wasn't meant to linger on any of the oddities or the grotesque scarring of Felix's body. He glanced over to the jar of ashes, unsure if they would cause a reaction at all, but stalling for just a moment. Felix had agreed and laid himself out, and Arsène needed to do his best not to betray that trust if it could even be called that. Perhaps Felix just didn't want to be held down by guards while the priest did his work.<br/>
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Still, it was all his call to make. Much of it he didn't truly know for certain. Dark deities and possessions were always a tricky thing. One never knew exactly what one was working against, and Arsène only had his limited experiences to call upon, and some old scrolls. Perhaps those that really knew better wouldn't have tried anything at all, but Arsène was still confident that being a man of God, he would have protection to some degree. He realized he could be very, very false. The devil didn't work within gods rules.<br/>
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Arsène took up the jar and opened it, paintbrush in his other hand as if he were an artist about to create something magnificent when it was anything but. Perhaps the ashes would serve as warning to what happened to the hosts of such parasites. Maybe it would cause it to recede, or perhaps it would cause it to lash out. Whatever it did, if anything, would be educational. Arsène put his hand over Felix's chest, dipping the brush into the inky-substance before deciding which psalm from the book of Yan he would write. It was a warning that for whatever the strength of the being within, god was stronger. He brought the brush tip to flesh, and began to write it out in the language of the ancients.</span></span>