/vt/ - Virtual Youtubers

>>1779923
I know next to nothing about Rushia except she's soft and sweet but also a bit clingy. I also made my own lore for the post part because I don't know her lore. Sorry if this doesn't live up to your expectations.

I'm back. Those are the first words that drift into my consciousness as I lie on the altar in Rushia's workshop. No longer having the energy to cough with any strength like I used to, I simply gurgle slightly on the vile mixture of blood, bile, drool and whatever ungodly tincture my wife thought to try this time to breathe some lifeblood back into my soul. Taking the time to move my tongue lazily about my mouth, I hope the slight sounds I make are enough to tell Rushia her most recent revival effort "succeeded".

As a man who lived in a world where science is the dominant medical craft over magic, I never knew just how much the soul contributed to the maintenance of the body. But from what I've picked up from Rushia's muttered ramblings as she desperately replaces my organs, without the soul the body will decay at an unnatural rate.
Due to being from a world without magic, my soul is almost pitifully weak compared to even a common villager from Rushia's world. I'm simply not capable of coming back repeatedly. Every revive takes a chunk of my soul to return my body to a functional state, but the window I spend alive is getting shorter and shorter as I run out of soul to give. I only made it through about six or seven meals before my heart failed this time. Even though Rushia has only been feeding me once a day recently, that means I only survived about a week. My time is running out, whether Rushia wants to admit it or not.

Judging by the sound of her stifling her sobs as she tries to make herself proper to welcome me back to the land of the living, I'm assuming Rushia is still in the "or not" stage. How she looks currently breaks my heart, despite her being behind my current condition. She seems unsteady on her feet as she walks toward me, the color all but gone from her previously rosy cheeks. Her hands are unusually icy, and from the looks of it she hasn't changed clothes or slept since my last death. I'm not familiar with what rituals she needs to perform to maintain her own body, but she seems to have halted them to keep a better eye on my condition. A bad cut she got peeling vegetables for a meal I had two week ago is still covered in a bloodied bandage, so her wounds are no longer healing. She seems to be suffering just as much as I am, just a little less visibly.