Part Three: Some Things Are Hard To Swallow
Trying to hide his distress from another being whom he thought could not possibly understand the reason for it, Wizardmon stoicly wiped at another tear with the piece of silk; yet fresh ones kept rolling down the his skin, disappearing behind the cowl despite his efforts to control them. He was having a hard time keeping the assorted memories at bay, knowing that this was neither the time nor the place to let them take hold!
"Gatomon is a land-animal class digimon of the form you would call a 'cat'." He took a deep breath. "I wish I knew if she was okay," the digimon confessed to Nicholas. "Without being regenerated by the Matrix, I can't regain a life there and find out what happened." More tears flowed. " Gatomon was my best friend and it was an honor to help her, but now I am alone again. Alone and lost." His stomach growled, punctuating the last word.
"And starved?" Nicholas smiled. He couldn't pretend to understand everything in his guest's fantastic story, but he recognized the sound of hunger well enough. And it didn't take an empath to sense the great sadness either. Well, he couldn't do much about the latter---at least, not yet---but relieving the former might be do-able. "Would you like something to eat or drink?"
"Please. Thank you,"the digimon nodded. "I have not eaten since before the fight and am feeling very empty."
Empty. So much meaning held within such a simple word. Without Gatomon, he felt useless and empty.
Nicholas got up and went into his kitchen, thinking how life seemed determined to throw him all the curve balls. He was still half inclined to believe this was all a dream, yet dream or not he couldn't very well ignore his guest's needs.
Besides, he felt drawn toward the poor little guy. Or digital monster. Digimon. Weird to think that an entire realm of sentients casually thought of themselves as monsters as if being considered one was the most normal thing in the world. But then, if everyone was a monster, then that would be normal, wouldn't it?
De Brabant wondered what it would be like to live in a place where physical differences were accepted without qualm. What would that be like---to not have to hide your deformities from others. He had always disliked the lies he'd had to fabricate as a vampire living amongst mortals.
Then again, Wizardmon had not skirted over the fact that they seemed to suffer from the same plagues of selfish apathy and greed that tainted his own Earth. Both sides held their faults. Neither, it seemed, was a paradise.
"I'm afraid I don't usually have much, my own diet is kind of restrictive..," the vampire called out as he vainly rooted around in his cabinets for edibles, the sound of doors opening and closing softly echoing around the loft. "hopefully one of my co-workers left something of theirs.."
Eureka!
"Do you like popcorn?" the vampire asked, having located a half-full bowl of Natalie's favorite movie-watching snack from two days ago. He figured it was still good to eat---unlike the fossilized pizza slice his partner in Metro Homide had so kindly stashed in the back of his pantry. Ugh. Mortal food was not his forté, his own body craving but one thing only. Unfortunately, he couldn't very well fend of his fellow detectives attempts to get him to eat by outright declaring himself to be a vampire. With Natalie's help (acting as his personal physician), everyone believed he had a rare skin condition that prevented his being out in daylight, gave him more allergies than you could shake an antihistamine at, and which screwed his digestive tract all to h**. Schanke, of course, was determined that all Nick needed was some good Polish/Italian food to give him strength and a long life. Just living off of Nat's protein shakes and 'red wine' would not cut it.
If only his mortal work partner knew! Nicholas grinned. Vampires were not true immortals since they could die, but they were much stronger than mortals.
"I don't know. I've never heard of 'pop corn' before," his guest admitted as he eyed the bowl's contents, "but it smells good." The digital wizard hesitantly took a handful of the white stuff and dropped it down the cowl. Nick heard soft munching sounds followed by a light cough.
Then another. And another.
"It is good. Just a bit...dry," Wizardmon sheepishly offered his culinary critique after a fourth, hoarser, cough escaped from his mouth. And, unfortunately--he tactfully did not add---the fluffy stuff did not do nearly enough to assuage his hunger. Still, the digimon was grateful for it and doggedly ate even the tiniest bits, doing his best to ignore how they tended to stick in his throat.
Digimon needed convertible matter to keep up their current power level. In fact, he was somewhat amazed he hadn't reverted back into an earlier evolvement stage already, based on the way he felt. In the past, Wizardmon had seen digidevolvment happen to those digimon who overextended their resources. Although, now that he thought of it, that hadn't ever happened to him---not even when Myotismon had nearly killed him the first time.
Hmmph. Figures he'd be faulty in even a universal digimon detriment! Apparently, he couldn't do anything correctly--not even digidevolve.
"I think I'd better get you something to go with that," Nicholas said as Wizardmon continued to cough.
After a moment, his host came back with a large goblet of water which he gave to the other.
"Here."
The digimon had to use both hands to hold it and Nicholas apologized for not having anything smaller for his guest to use. In the past, he had extended his loft's hospitality to someone of such small stature only once before---a young girl some thugs were after---and that had been for only a single day. Natalie was trying to help him with his social skills, but he was as yet a bit unprepared for satisfying even the basic expectations of adult visitors. For instance, Nat had chastised him for keeping his coffee under the sink. Well, how was he to know? His sole repast--breakfast, lunch, dinner and mid-noon snack---was blood. (Or it was when the coroner wasn't foisting on him those vile concoctions of hers on the theory that it was his sanguinary diet that was keeping him from crossing back into a human.) You kept blood cool or frozen until needed, microwaving the frozen bags if you were out of the bottled variety and were in a hurry to feed. Food storage cabinets and stoves had always been purely for aesthetics as far as he was concerned. Besides, coffee smelled as horrendous as Schanke's souvlaki. Though.. at least Natalie didn't add garlic into her drink or leave grainy crumbs on in his cadillac's upholstery!
Wizardmon stared into the liquid for a long moment, holding it just below his eyes as if seeing visions within the clear surface.
"You do drink water?" De Brabant asked, worrying that maybe Earth and this Digital World would be too different in nutritive substance to keep the little digimon man alive.
"Yes," Wizardmon assured him. "Your analog matter is different from mine, but not overly so. I believe I can convert it sufficiently. It is only..."
The tearful, jade-stone eyes lifted to meet the vampire's concerned face as he explained between small clearings of his irritated throat:
"When I first met Gatomon, I had fallen.. from the desert sky and landed in the middle of a town. The heat proved.. too much for me and I.. was left weak and.. unable to crawl let alone go over to the well and draw.. water for myself. The other digimon.. passing by ignored.. my plight, intent on their own lives and needs. I did not blame them for.. acting so, for I had come to that.. conclusion myself long before: that nothing was given.. freely and all motives were selfish. I had nothing to offer.. of value to.. them, so why should they stop to help? It was Gatomon.. who saved my life and my spirit. She helped me and.. demanded nothing in return.. She..." he paused as another cough escaped him. "She gave me.. a bowl of water."
He cleared his throat. "Sorry, I am not usually this emotional," he apologized, feeling embarrassed at his total lack of control since realizing he was not part of the System anymore. An accidental outcast.
Or maybe not so accidental.
Defect! The voices from his past managed to chant in chorus before he shoved them back into the recesses of his mind, concentrating on the water he held.
He didn't want to do this. What if Nicholas saw and reacted as the rest?
Hesitating for only a moment, Wizardmon shyly turned to face away from this second rescuer as he reached to tug down his cowl low enough to take the glass to his..
"Well, it sounds like you've been through a--"
De Brabant gave an involuntary gasp as he caught a glimpse of a pale, round face below the slanted eyes, inadvertently revealed in the smooth surface of a table-top mirror. The thing was joke gift from Natalie meant to poke fun at a human myth which falsely stated that a vampire's image would not appear on a reflective suface. They had shared a good laugh at that, but Nick was not laughing now.
Quick as lightning, he moved to kneel before the digimon, concern and horror forming his lips into a tight line. It was weird enough that the creature barely had what could be called a nose, but that was not what had so caught the knight's attention!
"Who did that to you?!" De Brabant demanded, angry that someone could have inflicted such a thing on another... on his...
He let the thought go, not entirely sure how to finish it. All he knew was that he felt very protective of this strange digital monster---and would willingly inflict serious damage on whomever would harm him.
Wincing a little as the Nick's cobalt eyes bore into him, Wizardmon continued to drink from the wide glass---by carefully flexing the seven vertical threads that ran the length of his mouth. Though their tensile strength was considerable---and sharp enough to slice through even hard food---they could only stretched so far without ripping free from his flesh altogether. Prudence, therefore, dictated that any flexing be done carefully. Hence the Data was mindful to drink and eat everything slowly.
The wizard had been afraid his host would react this way to his appearance---almost everyone did. That was why he kept his features hidden from view via the cowl, hat, and baggy jumpsuit: it wasn't pleasant being looked upon as an object of disgust. Only Gatomon had not shied away from or commented on the ugly stitches that linked jaw with palate. Her simple acceptance was part of what had so earned his loyalty to the cat-like Vaccine.
Finished, he placed the goblet down on the coffee table, letting the fabric spring upward to hide his mouth again. His host would have reached to uncover it once more, but a gloved hand served to block the move. Only after the odd human backed off did he meet Nicholas' eyes.
"I was digivolved this way," Wizardmon said by way of explanation. He bowed his head. "Please do not be upset about it and send me away. I promise you that I will keep covered while in your presence."
Misunderstanding the digital term for spontaneous evolution, Nicholas' face was thunderous with anger thinking that some villian had done the deed out of sadistic malice. "I have some medical knowledge. If you want, I can take them out--"
"No!" the digimon drew back, eyes wide, his body shivering a little as he threw up both arms to guard his lower face.
His guest's obvious fright brought De Brabant up short. "Surely you can't mean that you want to keep them in?" Nick blinked with astonishment at the very idea. His tone softened as the digimon continued to tremble before him. "Let me help. It's obvious you find them embarrassing and it can't be easy to eat with them there."
An emphatic headshake was his only answer.
Nicholas persisted anyway. "Why else do you keep your mouth hidden then? Don't be so proud that you'd refuse help when its offered."
Giving a long sigh, Wizardmon slowly lowered his arms. "It's not pride, Nick. I keep them covered up for the reason that so many others find looking at them disturbing." The green eyes twinkled with hangsman's mirth. "It is very hard to keep up a conversation when hardly anyone will look you in the face let alone the eyes. Mon are not usually critical of other's looks, but when they are...well...it's strong. Except for Gatomon, I pretty much kept to myself after leaving my Rookie stage."
So much for his hasty assumption that the residents of Wizardmon's home held no prejudices, Nicholas thought to himself. It seemed that discrimination existed everywhere. Even on a digital world.
"Still.. I can call in my mortal friend, Nicholas offered his one, last possibility to his guest. "She's not a cosmetic surgeon...exactly..., but she's experienced in fixing deformities." He decided to leave out that the deformities were the ones created by her own autopsies while working as Toronto's top medical coroner. "And I can personally vouch for her professional demeanor and discretion."
Boy, could he ever! You had to have a knack for discretion if you could refraim from telling the world that a pipe bomb-blasted corpse had regenerated good as new on your examining table, gotten up by itself and proceeded to dine upon the units of blood being kept in your refrigerated storage!
Wizardmon's unusual mouth formed into a smile behind its cloth barrier. He was getting to like this being a lot. Nicholas' thoughts were a bit chaotic, but nobility of spirit ran clearly. And his persistance on his guest's behalf was an admirable quality---though unwanted in this case. Wizardmon also sensed a lot of guilt within his host---a need to redeem himself through acts of self sacrifice. Well.., the digimon thought wryly, in that they held something in common, didn't they?
"Your concern honors me, Nick, but I am not ill nor disfigured... merely exhausted." At least he hoped that was the truth. He really wasn't sure about the validity of his own statement.
And why I haven't digidevolved back to Rookie yet is another mystery to decipher, the Data wizard silently mused. He certainly felt as weak as a beginner!
Aloud, he continued in a more subdued manner, "However, you are not the only one who has thought of relieving me of my...handicap. I know they are ugly. As I said, many find them disturbing to see and not all digimon believe in practicing tact." The Data hesitated, shivering again at the memory. "Even the Virals found them repugnant. Myotismon certainly thought so, and had two of his minions remove them soon after I was impressed into his service."
"And?" Nicholas frowned. If they had already been removed, then why..?
Inwardly, Wizardmon groaned and wished the human would let this topic drop. Talking about it reawakened things already far closer to the surface than he liked. But he owed De Brabant something for his trouble. An explanation was not too much for the human to ask for after having taken him in and given him his food.
"They grew back," he said quietly, unwillingly reliving what happened next. That part of his life was forever etched into his memory, often leeching unbidden into his dreams. "Myotismon was furious---even tore them out himself after they reappeared the third time." The digimon squirmed in memory. "He thought I was using my magic to restore them and had me punished for my open 'rebellion'. But I wasn't trying to rebel then. I couldn't risk doing anything that would get me deleted or expelled before I could help Gatomon remember who she was." He brought up a hand to gently rub at the threads through the tight weave of the cowl. "My stitches...they are not unlike my hair---they just grow back when damaged or removed. Finally, Myotismon gave up and left me alone to heal. It..." He closed his eyes. "..the experience was very painful. I don't like to think about that time."
"I'm sorry," Nick apologized. "I should not have said anything."
Wizardmon smiled again. "How can we learn and grow without questions? You could not have known until I told you." He heaved himself back onto the couch and laid his head down. "Now... please do not think me rude after your hospitality, Nick, but I really must sleep."
And with that, he was out like a light.
Quietly, Nick reached over to cover the comatose figure with the blanket. Dawn was already lighting the sky outside and he was getting tired himself. With a last look at the sleeping digimon, the vampire went upstairs to get some rest, his mind a jumble of thoughts most of which centered on how he'd have liked to have had it out with this 'Myotismon' creep.
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Trying to hide his distress from another being whom he thought could not possibly understand the reason for it, Wizardmon stoicly wiped at another tear with the piece of silk; yet fresh ones kept rolling down the his skin, disappearing behind the cowl despite his efforts to control them. He was having a hard time keeping the assorted memories at bay, knowing that this was neither the time nor the place to let them take hold!
"Gatomon is a land-animal class digimon of the form you would call a 'cat'." He took a deep breath. "I wish I knew if she was okay," the digimon confessed to Nicholas. "Without being regenerated by the Matrix, I can't regain a life there and find out what happened." More tears flowed. " Gatomon was my best friend and it was an honor to help her, but now I am alone again. Alone and lost." His stomach growled, punctuating the last word.
"And starved?" Nicholas smiled. He couldn't pretend to understand everything in his guest's fantastic story, but he recognized the sound of hunger well enough. And it didn't take an empath to sense the great sadness either. Well, he couldn't do much about the latter---at least, not yet---but relieving the former might be do-able. "Would you like something to eat or drink?"
"Please. Thank you,"the digimon nodded. "I have not eaten since before the fight and am feeling very empty."
Empty. So much meaning held within such a simple word. Without Gatomon, he felt useless and empty.
Nicholas got up and went into his kitchen, thinking how life seemed determined to throw him all the curve balls. He was still half inclined to believe this was all a dream, yet dream or not he couldn't very well ignore his guest's needs.
Besides, he felt drawn toward the poor little guy. Or digital monster. Digimon. Weird to think that an entire realm of sentients casually thought of themselves as monsters as if being considered one was the most normal thing in the world. But then, if everyone was a monster, then that would be normal, wouldn't it?
De Brabant wondered what it would be like to live in a place where physical differences were accepted without qualm. What would that be like---to not have to hide your deformities from others. He had always disliked the lies he'd had to fabricate as a vampire living amongst mortals.
Then again, Wizardmon had not skirted over the fact that they seemed to suffer from the same plagues of selfish apathy and greed that tainted his own Earth. Both sides held their faults. Neither, it seemed, was a paradise.
"I'm afraid I don't usually have much, my own diet is kind of restrictive..," the vampire called out as he vainly rooted around in his cabinets for edibles, the sound of doors opening and closing softly echoing around the loft. "hopefully one of my co-workers left something of theirs.."
Eureka!
"Do you like popcorn?" the vampire asked, having located a half-full bowl of Natalie's favorite movie-watching snack from two days ago. He figured it was still good to eat---unlike the fossilized pizza slice his partner in Metro Homide had so kindly stashed in the back of his pantry. Ugh. Mortal food was not his forté, his own body craving but one thing only. Unfortunately, he couldn't very well fend of his fellow detectives attempts to get him to eat by outright declaring himself to be a vampire. With Natalie's help (acting as his personal physician), everyone believed he had a rare skin condition that prevented his being out in daylight, gave him more allergies than you could shake an antihistamine at, and which screwed his digestive tract all to h**. Schanke, of course, was determined that all Nick needed was some good Polish/Italian food to give him strength and a long life. Just living off of Nat's protein shakes and 'red wine' would not cut it.
If only his mortal work partner knew! Nicholas grinned. Vampires were not true immortals since they could die, but they were much stronger than mortals.
"I don't know. I've never heard of 'pop corn' before," his guest admitted as he eyed the bowl's contents, "but it smells good." The digital wizard hesitantly took a handful of the white stuff and dropped it down the cowl. Nick heard soft munching sounds followed by a light cough.
Then another. And another.
"It is good. Just a bit...dry," Wizardmon sheepishly offered his culinary critique after a fourth, hoarser, cough escaped from his mouth. And, unfortunately--he tactfully did not add---the fluffy stuff did not do nearly enough to assuage his hunger. Still, the digimon was grateful for it and doggedly ate even the tiniest bits, doing his best to ignore how they tended to stick in his throat.
Digimon needed convertible matter to keep up their current power level. In fact, he was somewhat amazed he hadn't reverted back into an earlier evolvement stage already, based on the way he felt. In the past, Wizardmon had seen digidevolvment happen to those digimon who overextended their resources. Although, now that he thought of it, that hadn't ever happened to him---not even when Myotismon had nearly killed him the first time.
Hmmph. Figures he'd be faulty in even a universal digimon detriment! Apparently, he couldn't do anything correctly--not even digidevolve.
"I think I'd better get you something to go with that," Nicholas said as Wizardmon continued to cough.
After a moment, his host came back with a large goblet of water which he gave to the other.
"Here."
The digimon had to use both hands to hold it and Nicholas apologized for not having anything smaller for his guest to use. In the past, he had extended his loft's hospitality to someone of such small stature only once before---a young girl some thugs were after---and that had been for only a single day. Natalie was trying to help him with his social skills, but he was as yet a bit unprepared for satisfying even the basic expectations of adult visitors. For instance, Nat had chastised him for keeping his coffee under the sink. Well, how was he to know? His sole repast--breakfast, lunch, dinner and mid-noon snack---was blood. (Or it was when the coroner wasn't foisting on him those vile concoctions of hers on the theory that it was his sanguinary diet that was keeping him from crossing back into a human.) You kept blood cool or frozen until needed, microwaving the frozen bags if you were out of the bottled variety and were in a hurry to feed. Food storage cabinets and stoves had always been purely for aesthetics as far as he was concerned. Besides, coffee smelled as horrendous as Schanke's souvlaki. Though.. at least Natalie didn't add garlic into her drink or leave grainy crumbs on in his cadillac's upholstery!
Wizardmon stared into the liquid for a long moment, holding it just below his eyes as if seeing visions within the clear surface.
"You do drink water?" De Brabant asked, worrying that maybe Earth and this Digital World would be too different in nutritive substance to keep the little digimon man alive.
"Yes," Wizardmon assured him. "Your analog matter is different from mine, but not overly so. I believe I can convert it sufficiently. It is only..."
The tearful, jade-stone eyes lifted to meet the vampire's concerned face as he explained between small clearings of his irritated throat:
"When I first met Gatomon, I had fallen.. from the desert sky and landed in the middle of a town. The heat proved.. too much for me and I.. was left weak and.. unable to crawl let alone go over to the well and draw.. water for myself. The other digimon.. passing by ignored.. my plight, intent on their own lives and needs. I did not blame them for.. acting so, for I had come to that.. conclusion myself long before: that nothing was given.. freely and all motives were selfish. I had nothing to offer.. of value to.. them, so why should they stop to help? It was Gatomon.. who saved my life and my spirit. She helped me and.. demanded nothing in return.. She..." he paused as another cough escaped him. "She gave me.. a bowl of water."
He cleared his throat. "Sorry, I am not usually this emotional," he apologized, feeling embarrassed at his total lack of control since realizing he was not part of the System anymore. An accidental outcast.
Or maybe not so accidental.
Defect! The voices from his past managed to chant in chorus before he shoved them back into the recesses of his mind, concentrating on the water he held.
He didn't want to do this. What if Nicholas saw and reacted as the rest?
Hesitating for only a moment, Wizardmon shyly turned to face away from this second rescuer as he reached to tug down his cowl low enough to take the glass to his..
"Well, it sounds like you've been through a--"
De Brabant gave an involuntary gasp as he caught a glimpse of a pale, round face below the slanted eyes, inadvertently revealed in the smooth surface of a table-top mirror. The thing was joke gift from Natalie meant to poke fun at a human myth which falsely stated that a vampire's image would not appear on a reflective suface. They had shared a good laugh at that, but Nick was not laughing now.
Quick as lightning, he moved to kneel before the digimon, concern and horror forming his lips into a tight line. It was weird enough that the creature barely had what could be called a nose, but that was not what had so caught the knight's attention!
"Who did that to you?!" De Brabant demanded, angry that someone could have inflicted such a thing on another... on his...
He let the thought go, not entirely sure how to finish it. All he knew was that he felt very protective of this strange digital monster---and would willingly inflict serious damage on whomever would harm him.
Wincing a little as the Nick's cobalt eyes bore into him, Wizardmon continued to drink from the wide glass---by carefully flexing the seven vertical threads that ran the length of his mouth. Though their tensile strength was considerable---and sharp enough to slice through even hard food---they could only stretched so far without ripping free from his flesh altogether. Prudence, therefore, dictated that any flexing be done carefully. Hence the Data was mindful to drink and eat everything slowly.
The wizard had been afraid his host would react this way to his appearance---almost everyone did. That was why he kept his features hidden from view via the cowl, hat, and baggy jumpsuit: it wasn't pleasant being looked upon as an object of disgust. Only Gatomon had not shied away from or commented on the ugly stitches that linked jaw with palate. Her simple acceptance was part of what had so earned his loyalty to the cat-like Vaccine.
Finished, he placed the goblet down on the coffee table, letting the fabric spring upward to hide his mouth again. His host would have reached to uncover it once more, but a gloved hand served to block the move. Only after the odd human backed off did he meet Nicholas' eyes.
"I was digivolved this way," Wizardmon said by way of explanation. He bowed his head. "Please do not be upset about it and send me away. I promise you that I will keep covered while in your presence."
Misunderstanding the digital term for spontaneous evolution, Nicholas' face was thunderous with anger thinking that some villian had done the deed out of sadistic malice. "I have some medical knowledge. If you want, I can take them out--"
"No!" the digimon drew back, eyes wide, his body shivering a little as he threw up both arms to guard his lower face.
His guest's obvious fright brought De Brabant up short. "Surely you can't mean that you want to keep them in?" Nick blinked with astonishment at the very idea. His tone softened as the digimon continued to tremble before him. "Let me help. It's obvious you find them embarrassing and it can't be easy to eat with them there."
An emphatic headshake was his only answer.
Nicholas persisted anyway. "Why else do you keep your mouth hidden then? Don't be so proud that you'd refuse help when its offered."
Giving a long sigh, Wizardmon slowly lowered his arms. "It's not pride, Nick. I keep them covered up for the reason that so many others find looking at them disturbing." The green eyes twinkled with hangsman's mirth. "It is very hard to keep up a conversation when hardly anyone will look you in the face let alone the eyes. Mon are not usually critical of other's looks, but when they are...well...it's strong. Except for Gatomon, I pretty much kept to myself after leaving my Rookie stage."
So much for his hasty assumption that the residents of Wizardmon's home held no prejudices, Nicholas thought to himself. It seemed that discrimination existed everywhere. Even on a digital world.
"Still.. I can call in my mortal friend, Nicholas offered his one, last possibility to his guest. "She's not a cosmetic surgeon...exactly..., but she's experienced in fixing deformities." He decided to leave out that the deformities were the ones created by her own autopsies while working as Toronto's top medical coroner. "And I can personally vouch for her professional demeanor and discretion."
Boy, could he ever! You had to have a knack for discretion if you could refraim from telling the world that a pipe bomb-blasted corpse had regenerated good as new on your examining table, gotten up by itself and proceeded to dine upon the units of blood being kept in your refrigerated storage!
Wizardmon's unusual mouth formed into a smile behind its cloth barrier. He was getting to like this being a lot. Nicholas' thoughts were a bit chaotic, but nobility of spirit ran clearly. And his persistance on his guest's behalf was an admirable quality---though unwanted in this case. Wizardmon also sensed a lot of guilt within his host---a need to redeem himself through acts of self sacrifice. Well.., the digimon thought wryly, in that they held something in common, didn't they?
"Your concern honors me, Nick, but I am not ill nor disfigured... merely exhausted." At least he hoped that was the truth. He really wasn't sure about the validity of his own statement.
And why I haven't digidevolved back to Rookie yet is another mystery to decipher, the Data wizard silently mused. He certainly felt as weak as a beginner!
Aloud, he continued in a more subdued manner, "However, you are not the only one who has thought of relieving me of my...handicap. I know they are ugly. As I said, many find them disturbing to see and not all digimon believe in practicing tact." The Data hesitated, shivering again at the memory. "Even the Virals found them repugnant. Myotismon certainly thought so, and had two of his minions remove them soon after I was impressed into his service."
"And?" Nicholas frowned. If they had already been removed, then why..?
Inwardly, Wizardmon groaned and wished the human would let this topic drop. Talking about it reawakened things already far closer to the surface than he liked. But he owed De Brabant something for his trouble. An explanation was not too much for the human to ask for after having taken him in and given him his food.
"They grew back," he said quietly, unwillingly reliving what happened next. That part of his life was forever etched into his memory, often leeching unbidden into his dreams. "Myotismon was furious---even tore them out himself after they reappeared the third time." The digimon squirmed in memory. "He thought I was using my magic to restore them and had me punished for my open 'rebellion'. But I wasn't trying to rebel then. I couldn't risk doing anything that would get me deleted or expelled before I could help Gatomon remember who she was." He brought up a hand to gently rub at the threads through the tight weave of the cowl. "My stitches...they are not unlike my hair---they just grow back when damaged or removed. Finally, Myotismon gave up and left me alone to heal. It..." He closed his eyes. "..the experience was very painful. I don't like to think about that time."
"I'm sorry," Nick apologized. "I should not have said anything."
Wizardmon smiled again. "How can we learn and grow without questions? You could not have known until I told you." He heaved himself back onto the couch and laid his head down. "Now... please do not think me rude after your hospitality, Nick, but I really must sleep."
And with that, he was out like a light.
Quietly, Nick reached over to cover the comatose figure with the blanket. Dawn was already lighting the sky outside and he was getting tired himself. With a last look at the sleeping digimon, the vampire went upstairs to get some rest, his mind a jumble of thoughts most of which centered on how he'd have liked to have had it out with this 'Myotismon' creep.
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