DRETCH
html © dante.
| ... and from your lips she drew your hallelujah |
| Though shifting is a second nature to me, even into those forms that I am less than familiar with, it still fracking hurts. My skeleton throbs with the stress of so many shifts in a row, my muscles thrumming harmony from the physical exertion. The ichor is gelatinous and warm, coating my neck and back as I gasp with throaty laughter. Better to laugh and embrace the fire that scorches my insides rather than succumb to it. I can hear him approaching. My eyes change, wide, pale grey owl’s eyes once again, one of my most favored adaptations to this damned darkness. I blink several times as my surroundings brighten, the storm overhead beginning to fade as it moves further south. I cannot fault him for the caution, the guarded huff of a leathery wing attached to a sulfuric pile of mashed flesh. My laughter eases as his dual-colored face comes into view, upside down as I make no move to get to my feet just yet. Are you alright? he asks, and my lips spread wide in my father’s wild grin, another gout of laughter barking through my fangs at the uncertainty in the question. Am I alright? Have I ever been … alright? Rather than answer him right away, I roll to my side with a groan, pausing to take a deep breath before I lunge to my feet. Slipping a bit in the muck, my limbs tremble as I take mental stock. My hide is intact but I can feel deep bruising already forming along my sides from being launched and kicked. Head slung low, I peer up at him through the bits of forelock glued to my head with bits of otherworld-viscera. A stranger, as most are to me, his eyes wide with adrenaline and another emotion I’ve had little experience with and do not recognize – concern. I must thank you for saving me, comes his polite address and I raise my head, exchanging the owl’s eyes for my own in order to keep in focus. Flanks still heaving from the evening’s action, I find myself grinning again, lips twisted wryly. It had not necessarily been my intention to save him, per se. Typically, I am a selfish creature by nature, driven even further so by the nurture of my upbringing. I’m not exactly sure, actually, why I leapt into the melee rather than simply fading into the relative safety of the forest and so I answer his thanks with a noncommittal roll of my shoulders. The devil’s stink and gore is beginning to dry and like the barbaric heathen that I am, I stretch out with a groan and give a violent, canine-like shake. I should apologize when I realize my social folly, bits of the monster’s flesh flung in all directions – including his – but I only shift my weight and find his curious gaze in the darkness. You’re a shifter, correct? I’ve never seen either the cat or the hairless beast you turned into ... I follow his shift in attention to the mess I’ve made. Nor that thing. Again I laugh, a low chuff and another roll of my shoulders. “I’ve never seen one of those either,” I reply, my voice a light tone that belies my fighter’s build. “There are loads more out there,” I gesture toward the tree line with a jerk of my encrusted head. “They came with the darkness.” I note the way he seems to favor one side, the faint coppery scent of mortal blood underlying that of the monster’s. Frowning, I do not ask him about it – I’m no healer, and pain is only weakness leaking from the body – and again seek out the iridescence of his eyes. “It’s in my blood.” I answer his earlier question proudly, my shifter abilities my greatest treasure. “Elephants are harder than cheetahs. Although, I do not get to play with either form often.” I wrinkle my nose, grey eyes dancing. “Once I tried to do the same thing to Niklas but the rat bastard just went all shadowy and his hellhound took a chunk out of my rear.” I cock my head to the side. “Wait. Where have you been that you’ve not seen any monsters yet?” |
@[Kaenros]