He touches himself; the lizard king.

The flood of hungering, colorful thoughts gripped Ergot. He had full use of his mind. His beautiful, gorgeous, sightful mind was his. The pharmakia had done something. Something he never thought imaginable, something he never thought of period. Rubbing his eyes, Ergot struggled to sort out the innards of himself. Touching within, peeling off the roughened scabs and calluses of past deformity.

For ages, it had seemed as though he was hindered. A beauty, but hindered. He always admired himself, unchaste but in his vanity, it was beauty nonetheless. Ergot was poisoned. He knew it, his bones told him that he was forever damaged and no matter how he took pride in himself, he had the instillments of madness and ugliness. He would never take a man or woman for his own. Why touch them with his ugly darkness? Until now he had felt that way. Feeling himself, Ergot felt the normal and human yen that never before was within. It was as though all the emotion lost and damaged was assimilated, replacing and supplementing his old feelings. It was beautiful. Ergot didn't merely and wrongly feel beautiful. He was beautiful. The darkness took on a new face and light, enabling the man to do so much more.

Rising to his feet, stretching and yawning quite openly, Ergot cast his eyes down and tasted his own lips. he touched his cheek with one hand, his long fingers stroking his skin. Would someone care to touch him? Was Ergot his own? Why? That last one worded question touched him deeply. The expanse of the single word envoked profoundness inside of himself.

Ergot stopped breathing for a minute, listening to the sounds of the woods around him. It was to be nearing noon, and he heard noise. Not the nervous rabbit, not the cautious, tame shrew. Man. The quiet stumbling of a kind lost in time. Rising himself to full height, he peered through the briars and thorns that surrounded him and his aura, breathing once more. Slowly taking a step forward, then another, taking direction, he followed the sound, stepping softly on the dead underfoot. In his new clarity, Ergot sensed the foreboding that entrenched those ahead of him. Curious, he followed. Curious, Ergot set afoot, crossing paths and making himself adventure in the most casual and oblivious form. Ergot was following the blind, Caressing his own soul and hunger for deeper things, lightly fingering his lute and alertly studying the horizon ahead, he simply followed.