[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/01989c3a-cdd4-7239-bbf7-969d978789bc.webp[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=298e25]Location[/color]: Haven, Strange Academy
[color=298e25]Grimoire[/color]: 
[color=298e25]Skills[/color]:
[url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/d6/67/d6/d667d6aff85379764e1832ae3b61dde8.jpg]Current Outfit[/url]
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[center][h2]CW: Self Harm, Body Horror[/h2][/center]

[color=298e25][i]"Sawaranaide kudasai-"[/i][/color] Rohan pulled his arm back from the symbiote. He had to fight the urge to not reach for something made of iron or steel and fling it at Finley with prejudice. He already didn't like talking about this subject, getting bitten and bloodied by a Kylntar and a [i]fucking fae[/i] because they thought it was interesting didn't sit right with him. To make it seem as if he wasn't petty or that someone had just pushed a button, his arm kept moving until it found his pocket. He sighed, and pulled out a knife made from animal bone. [color=298e25]"There's no need for any special equipment. We're on a schedule, so we'll just do this the easy way- I heal injuries almost the same as all of you."[/color] He warned. He motioned for Root to go grab an empty jar he saw sitting on one of the workspaces.

[color=298e25]"If we plan on using this stuff, you all need to be careful with it. Wear gloves, obviously, and be sure to wash your hands after handling it just in case,"[/color] He warned, withdrawing a fiber cloth from his toolbox. Root plopped the jar down next to him, and Rohan quickly made sure it wasn't cloudy. [color=298e25]"It doesn't leave this room. If it gets on something you can't get it out of, that something is being burned until the ashes are pale as falling snow. Finley, if you try using this stuff for your blood charms, don't leave the school for any reason. Not until you're sure the charm burns dry."[/color]

And then Rohan lifted his shirt.

A few details about his curse were instantly made apparent. At the center of his ribs, there was not skin. Rather, there was dark, mottled bark. Petrified wood webbed outwards in a pattern like a rat king of spiderwebs. Shades of black, gray and verdant brown, cracked and warped. It didn't quite reach up to his neck, but it stretched up his shoulders and almost to his stomach.

[i]Thunk.[/i]

He stabbed himself. The point of the knife went straight into where a normal person's heart would be, and he didn't even flinch. Rohan wedged it left, then right, and then twisted. The blade was stuck, so he used his free hand to grab a chunk of the bark and rip it off. A sick, wet sound came from underneath it, and he dropped a piece of the black wood into the jar. He then whispered to Root, who bit down on the knife's handle and wrenched it out. He folded the fiber cloth with one hand and stuffed it in the wound.

And then, without so much as a wince, he dropped his shirt. Rohan held up the jar holding a piece of his "flesh." The surface of one side started to bubble, the part not typically exposed to air. It started to weep a viscous fluid, black as ink and thick as cold molasses. The glass reflected a brown tint of light where it hit the liquid, as it slowly pooled in the container. Enough to fill a shot glass or two.

And the smell. The [i]smell.[/i] The only word that could accurately describe it was [i]wrong.[/i] Not like something found on Earth, not like something found in another world. Neither the sap from a tree or the blood from a person were supposed to smell like that.

[color=298e25]"That'll do. Anyway, I'm thinking we can try to make a heart. Four chambers, four mediums, four of us. Something lacing them together that represents the actual [i]power[/i] we have. If it can still beat, we can always come back. There would be room for the sympathic connection to constantly throw from one expression to the next, and hearts can beat fast or slow."[/color]