Ｃａｓｓｅｌ Ｓｈａｒｐｅ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
patheticvillain) wrote2015-03-23 01:16 pm
patheticvillain) wrote2015-03-23 01:16 pm
fifty ➢ video ( cw bodyhorror )
video
This is bullshit.
["This" being the black, silky ears he's sprouted in the wake of the flood. His long tail, equally black and twitching with irritation, pokes out from under his blanket, where he's curled up and sulking. The camera's at a skewed angle, balanced on the edge of his pillow.]
I just woke up like this. I didn't even do it. If it's gonna happen, I want to at least be the one to do it. I want . . .
[He trails off, his eyes distant and dull. When they snap back into focus, he sits up slowly, blankets falling around him, and narrows his eyes.]
It's supposed to hurt.
[And then he begins to change: skin rippling, body changing, limbs twisting. He grows a third arm, and then a fourth, the new ones vestigial, skinless, ugly. Growths emerge across his face, limning his high cheekbones. He curls up in the fetal position; you can hear bones crack, shift, curl, and break. All the while he's crying out in a dog's whine, an ugly helpless yet somehow angry noise. The blankets tangle around his shifting feet as they grow bark and tentacles and recede into stubs.]
[Eventually, endlessly, he is still. The ears and tail have gone completely.]
This is bullshit.
["This" being the black, silky ears he's sprouted in the wake of the flood. His long tail, equally black and twitching with irritation, pokes out from under his blanket, where he's curled up and sulking. The camera's at a skewed angle, balanced on the edge of his pillow.]
I just woke up like this. I didn't even do it. If it's gonna happen, I want to at least be the one to do it. I want . . .
[He trails off, his eyes distant and dull. When they snap back into focus, he sits up slowly, blankets falling around him, and narrows his eyes.]
It's supposed to hurt.
[And then he begins to change: skin rippling, body changing, limbs twisting. He grows a third arm, and then a fourth, the new ones vestigial, skinless, ugly. Growths emerge across his face, limning his high cheekbones. He curls up in the fetal position; you can hear bones crack, shift, curl, and break. All the while he's crying out in a dog's whine, an ugly helpless yet somehow angry noise. The blankets tangle around his shifting feet as they grow bark and tentacles and recede into stubs.]
[Eventually, endlessly, he is still. The ears and tail have gone completely.]
spam
[She holds up her thumb and forefinger as indicators.]
And the extraction was rough. How do you feel now?
spam
I feel. A little bit. Dead? Did I die?
spam
Do you want. I don't know, hot chocolate or chicken soup or something?
[The simple, visceral reminders of life: heat, consumption. Something to do with his hands, something to forestall talking with slow sips.]
spam
[Even though it's not sickness, not really. He shakes his hands out as though he's got pins and needles.]
I feel all hollowed-out.
spam
[She's not terrified anymore. She's still afraid of things - lots of things - but the clawing desperation of it is just...gone empty, a dark hanging place in her like a belfry with no bell. Was she - she didn't even consider the possibility.
Not that it matters. Work to be done.]
All that hollow is your space. You'll fill it up again with something better.
You want me to give you a minute to breathe while I bring you some soup, or drag you along?
spam
[Help him fill up. Make him feel human again. That's all he wants.]
spam
[She holds out her hand.]