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 Posted: Mon Jan 04, 2016 5:34 pm
He didn’t feel well. Which was surprising considering you know, his life and death exprience.
No He didn’t feel well. When someone touched his forehead, it was hot, hotter then it should be for any human. But they couldn’t help him. No humans could not help at all.
He suffered, for three days and for three nights. It started out a slow fever, as the wounds in his body closed up. The holes shrunk with each hour until they were nothing more then two normal snake bite holes. The tissue formed over it and left a purple colored scar. Probably due to the color of the venom it had once seeped.
He hadn’t felt Haüyne’s cooling touches, or that they had hidden him away, as he suffered.
His world was so much different, underneath the surface. So the first day was fevers, and slowly they got worse. As day faded into the night, he started to thrash, heaving, foaming at the mouth. His normal auburn hair was slick with sweat from the sheer effort of maintain a human form had cost.
But he could feel it, it felt like cold scales. It circled his arms, it circled his legs. It circled his neck and squeezed. Tighter, so much tighter. Until he had no air to breathe and further, until he felt the life literally disappearing from him.
The second day was cold. His body was cold like death. He no longer sweated, and his breathing was ragged and strained. His skin lost more color and faded into blue tipped fingers and toes. So little warmth he had left. It was like he almost dead.
The second day, he felt like being bathed in acid. Like his skin was melting away, and he saw himself as a skeleton, among the rocks of the rift. One of many in the mess that was the dark kingdom. He could bend a bone or two right? Wasn’t that funny? He moved a hand expriementally. So he was a skeleton.
The bones of who he use to be.
His fingers moved in the second day.
The third day was the most agonizing pain. His screams echoed down the empty hallways of the negaverse kingdom. So much that he had to be muffled. His body lurched so much, it had to be tied down. His body fought against restraints. He was being torn apart.
The third day, he gained muscle. Lean and strong. But not human. Defenitly more sinousous. More chaotic. He had a weird sense of sound. He thought he heard slithering, on the ground, around him. His head turned. He was just muscle over bones now, but he could feel the skin. No not skin. Scales. It covered him. It covered over thin muscle and cracked bones. Then came the skin of a human, and he understood now. He was no longer just Pyro. Underneath the surface...Mamushi, the snake youma he had claimed, had claimed him for himself. The body became perfect. It was a tool, for both youma and boy. Now.
It was now that he looked over his shoulder, and understood where the slithering sounds of scales had come, where the choking feeling of being squeezed to death. The venom that had shed him of all his weaknesses.
Rebuilt. Tainted. Stronger. Monster. STRONGER. Defiled. STRONGER.
On the fourth day, his eyes slid open for the first time since he suffered the bite of Mamushi.
Word count: 573 Ivynian You can post Hauyne reacting if you want here :'D If you want them too
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Posted: Mon Jan 11, 2016 4:25 pm
Word Count: 571 of my ownMedical experts, or pseudo-medical for those nameless ones who seemed to have some interest and dealings with Youma and said weird things about grafts, "Tanzanite", and then some other names of officers who'd never come in briefings or history from the couple hours of instruction Haüyne got here or there from the powers that were, had the floor around Pyrophanite for some hours to start. Then it petered off and was relegated to occasional checks on his progress and doing things that the corrupted had no words or understanding for. "Hey, I brought some things. Hey." It didn't matter to staying near, there, in the barracks. When pushed off to the side to make room for betters, the super senshi made it a point to go topside and collect needfuls like water, a whole box of watermelons since they were supposed to be gentle and good for breaking fasts (to get the juice out of and try to get it in him), pillows, blankets of different weights, and some foam triangles. There was something about laying around in one spot too long that was really bad for people, so the corrupted determined to shift the fallen lieutenant's position for him if he didn't show any improvements. A stop in a Walgreen's provided an ample supply of the smack-to-activate cool packs if he got fevered, a bed pan and sanitary wipes. Also swiped were some boxes of snacks, bottles of ensure, and some coloring books and a sudoku book. A teleport into a bookstore, another time, provided a small selection of cheesy books to read allowed from. In case he could hear anything. And an audio splitter for a second pair of headphones to put on him to companionably listen to the stolen ipod from a second-hand games outlet. "We are hunting together, Mr. Holmes, and our trail lay in this direction." He turned his bulldog eyes upon our visitor. "Are you Mr. John Scott Eccles, of Popham House, Lee?"
"I am."
"We have been following you about all the morning."
"You traced him through the telegram, no doubt," said Holmes.
"Exactly, Mr. Holmes. We picked up the scent at Charing Cross Post-Office and came on here."
"But why do you follow me? What do you want?"
"We wish a statement, Mr. Scott Eccles, as to the events which led up to the death last night of Mr. Aloysius Garcia, of Wisteria Lodge, near Esher."
Our client had sat up with staring eyes and every tinge of colour struck from his astonished face.
"Dead? Did you say he was dead?"
********************"Yes, sir, he is dead."
******************** "But how? An accident?"
The other officers weren't any help in saying what may or may not be going on, or what to expect. Or if they thought Pyro would make it. Keep him cool if he burns, and warm if he chills. Keep him clean. At least no one is giving me flack about being with him. Or having him here. They're not trying to toss him to the dogs. I don't know if they even care. If they see him as anything. He didn't, really, show any improvement. Not in the way that fictional stories seemed to intimate that he should open his eyes and tiredly talk, here or there. His condition changed, but it wasn't really better. It was just distressing. Day to day. "Feel up to some water? I miss your smile, ya know? You're lookin' pretty s**t up. You're going to get dehydrated. I wish I knew how to do IVs. I don't know why no one has stuck you." Hours and days seemed to get indefinite, as Haüyne stayed awake, or napped fitfully here and there. Then at some point Pyro was screaming and it lasted and lasted. It felt medieval, old asylum practices of restraints and making sure that he didn't choke on spit, vomit, blood, or bite his own tongue off. Haüyne pet his hair with one hand anyway, the other white-knuckled and pressed against zir own mouth in distress. However many hours. There was no eating, drinking, or sleeping then. It hardly felt normal to blink, but tears kept eyes from drying out. "You'll be okay." Words muffled around knuckles. Should have nicked a box of Kleenex, too. Pixie Nyxie Excepted read-aloud example from The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
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Posted: Fri Jan 22, 2016 10:10 am
It was hard opening eyes, that felt like they had been closed for so long. It was like waking from the dead, which was partly true. A part of Pyro had died. The weaker, less resolute side of him had died.
The visions that greeted him, were blurry. He could see shapes, outlines. Heat. He curled towards the heat instinctively, no matter it hurt the bones and flesh. He burned from recovering, but he was cold on the inside. So cold it hurt even more.
He though he could see Haüyne, because it was the heat he gravitated towards. He didn't see them...as them really, but as a large blob of red and orange and green.
His head rang with pain and he opened his mouth, to speak. Still raspy...Broken.
"H...Hauyne..." If she responded, then he knew. She was alive. They made it out somehow. How? Where was Mamushi? He ached. GOD he ached.
"We were hunting together-" He repeated, still raspy, "Yes sir, He's dead. You pick weird books to read." He coughed and then looked over to the side. He couldn't make anything out. Cold shapes with no outlines.
"Vision is ******** up. Did they stick...me with a drug." His arm moved and came up to his eyes. It was the first time he would feel the scales that cascaded down his skin.
"What....what the ******** is this?"
Pyro had changed. Changed into...
Monster.
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