01-13-2016, 07:09 PM
Shortly after relaying its message to the other Institute members in Nippur, Nealaphh spoke briefly with Mr. Riddle and encouraged him to revert back to his bound form, if for no other reason than it was the most efficacious way for Nealaphh and the blossoming dark lord to travel. During the flight, where Nealaphh continuously clutched Riddle in a secure grip, the two discussed the horcrux's plans for an academy of arcane learning within the Pale Moors. Nealaphh regretfully did not have too much to offer the wizard in the way of information, as the God-Mind itself had never personally visited, so anything Nealaphh knew was something that Tom could just as easily find on the Dataverse.
Nealaphh itself was surprised at the might and speed of this otherwise diminutive form. Taking into account the presence of a tailwind and the drag caused by Tom's bulk, Nealaphh hypothesized that this corvidian body had a top aerial speed of nearly eighty miles an hour. How, exactly, this otherwise mundane body could produce such speed and strength would be something Nealaphh would have to investigate later, but it hypothesized that the disproportionate strength may have something to do with a sort of conservation of potential energy. It was something Nealaphh would have to bring up with Tom at a later date.
As it stood, it was only a matter of minutes before Nealaphh and Tom were ten miles away from Nippur as had been indicated. Nealaphh set Tom down on a small rocky outcropping that jutted unceremoniously from the dusty desert floor. The sand was a robust orange color, and large swathes of dry scrub hissed and whispered in tune with the ever-present sciroccos. The sun, though still harsh and relentless, was beginning to sag in the sky. Given that there were no clouds in the sky, apart from the inky plume that rose on the western horizon, it was likely to be an unremarkable sunset. Nealaphh, still wounded, now reverted back to its humanoid form and sat unclothed on the warm sandstone terrace. Its otherwise perfectly smooth, obsidian body was pocked and scratched from head to toe, with hairline fractures spiderwebbing their way across its torso. The shiny, ferrous fluid that it bled has ceased to ooze forth from the larger gouges in its stony flesh, but glittering swatches of the stuff still stained it here and there.
Nealaphh looked odd without its robe...more vulnerable looking. Its limbs, no longer shrouded by heavy woven cloth, were gangly and svelte. Though it would be an exaggeration to say that its body was emaciated, there was a defined gauntness to its features. The thing that Tom took most notice of, though it was hard to spot with Nealaphh's hunched, seated posture, was the very pronounced belly button that the God-Mind had. It begat a whole slew of implications and mysteries that Tom was eager to explore, and yet, there was still a measure of uncertainty between the two of them. Tact was probably still a virtue at this point. So, with the wind and sun on their backs, the pair of damaged Primes sat and stared in relative silence at the smoking city of Nippur in the distance, scanning for any sign of movement in their direction...
Nealaphh itself was surprised at the might and speed of this otherwise diminutive form. Taking into account the presence of a tailwind and the drag caused by Tom's bulk, Nealaphh hypothesized that this corvidian body had a top aerial speed of nearly eighty miles an hour. How, exactly, this otherwise mundane body could produce such speed and strength would be something Nealaphh would have to investigate later, but it hypothesized that the disproportionate strength may have something to do with a sort of conservation of potential energy. It was something Nealaphh would have to bring up with Tom at a later date.
As it stood, it was only a matter of minutes before Nealaphh and Tom were ten miles away from Nippur as had been indicated. Nealaphh set Tom down on a small rocky outcropping that jutted unceremoniously from the dusty desert floor. The sand was a robust orange color, and large swathes of dry scrub hissed and whispered in tune with the ever-present sciroccos. The sun, though still harsh and relentless, was beginning to sag in the sky. Given that there were no clouds in the sky, apart from the inky plume that rose on the western horizon, it was likely to be an unremarkable sunset. Nealaphh, still wounded, now reverted back to its humanoid form and sat unclothed on the warm sandstone terrace. Its otherwise perfectly smooth, obsidian body was pocked and scratched from head to toe, with hairline fractures spiderwebbing their way across its torso. The shiny, ferrous fluid that it bled has ceased to ooze forth from the larger gouges in its stony flesh, but glittering swatches of the stuff still stained it here and there.
Nealaphh looked odd without its robe...more vulnerable looking. Its limbs, no longer shrouded by heavy woven cloth, were gangly and svelte. Though it would be an exaggeration to say that its body was emaciated, there was a defined gauntness to its features. The thing that Tom took most notice of, though it was hard to spot with Nealaphh's hunched, seated posture, was the very pronounced belly button that the God-Mind had. It begat a whole slew of implications and mysteries that Tom was eager to explore, and yet, there was still a measure of uncertainty between the two of them. Tact was probably still a virtue at this point. So, with the wind and sun on their backs, the pair of damaged Primes sat and stared in relative silence at the smoking city of Nippur in the distance, scanning for any sign of movement in their direction...
And, we dream of home I dream of life out of here Their dreams are small My dreams don't know fear I got my heart full of hope I will change everything No matter what I'm told How impossible it seems We did it before And we'll do it again We're indestructible Even when we're tired And we've been here before Just you and I
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued