Saturday, December 15, 2012

Dead Rite chapter 133.17

“Then you know how worried we are about you.” Harold reached forward to pat him on the shoulder. He wasn't keen on actually getting his hand covered in security guard blood. “Don't worry, we'll think of a solution. We have a few days, yet, unless you feed more than you need to.”

“I'll try not to.” Dill held up his hands and waggled his fingers. “I have to say, though, it feels good to have everything feel normal again.”

“Does it feel differently when you decay?”

“Harold!” Gillian gave him a quick thump on the shoulder. “Remember we talked about filters? There are some things you just don't ask people.”

“Right. Sorry.” Harold grinned self-consciously. “You can ignore that if you like.”

“Actually, it's a good question, and something I should document for my paper.”

“Paper?” Harold eyes the pile of gnawed bones and body parts in one corner of the life. It was his one failing as a necromancer. He loathed dead bodies.

“Yes. I figured when we finish the college course I could apply for a doctorate in a related field. Something like 'The Human Psyche as Electrical Power Source.' What do you think?”

“It sounds intriguing.”

“I think so too. To answer your question, the more my form decays, the less tactile sensation I receive from my extremities. I would postulate that an extended period of such limitations would force the brain into atrophy and render me into the iconic shambling figure so prevalent in film and television.”

“But feeding restores functionality?”

“Indeed yes. Good as new.”

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