#morpho jetblack

After tracking a seam of stagnant aether, Thallon and Concord finally come to a building, partially reclaimed by nature.

The red-clad swordsman recoils as he rounds a clump of foliage. There, slumped against the crumbling wall and draped in tattered yellow spellcaster's robes, is an Elezen. Or it appears to be an Elezen.

"Cord, am I losing it? Is that a fresh corpse? I thought this island was supposed to be uninhabited."

"Mm..." Concord observes the unmoving form with a critical eye, "If it is, it's the best preserved corpse I've ever seen. Probably ensorcelled."

Thallon steps closer to get a better view.

The figure is tall and gaunt with sallow skin and unbelievably long white hair tangling with the vines growing around it. The robes adorning it are clearly weather-worn and damaged, with patches of moss clinging to them. How long had this body been laying in this spot?

"Do you think we should take it back to the Archive? Maybe it's related to the architect of the island."

There's a scoff from behind him as he continues his careful trek forward.

"If you want to haul Mr. Tall, Dead, and Creepy back to camp, be my guest. I'm not going to touch it."

Thallon rolls his eyes and crouches closer to the unknown Elezen to finish his examination. His fingers graze it's cold skin and a pulse of energy courses through him. For a long moment, he can't pull his hand away-- it's as though there's a current holding him there against his will.

A rough gasp echoes across the area as the corpse springs back to life.

"Por los Doce, it's some kind of voidsent!" Thallon yelps as he finally rips himself away from the definitely-not-dead man. His hand instinctively goes for the swords on his back, but the confused and dazed look on the other's face stalls him.

The thing had taken aether from him, that much he knows, but whether it was intentional or out of it's own instinct he isn't sure. Concord rushes to his side, shadows swirling around his tattooed arm as he makes ready to summon his own weapon. Thallon waves a hand at him to stop and instead grabs his hand to pull himself from the ground.

"Wait, I don't think it knows what it's doing."

"You are entirely too relaxed about this, Lonnie," the Viera growls protectively.

"Hold your Chocobos, 'Cord. Maybe we can talk to it."

The strange Elezen glances between the bickering men, bewildered. It's black eyes flick from one to the other as it's senses return. It's voice is thick as it cuts through the arguing.

"Mortals."

All eyes turn to the the voidsent, one pair curious and the other glaring.