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Reply Negaspace & The Rift
[R] i'm going to become an impressive nightmare

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Strickenized


Garbage Cat

PostPosted: Sat Apr 24, 2021 7:27 am


No one saw the mistakes behind being youma. No one saw how human they were.

He wouldn't call the Negaverse barracks a home, but he called it a place to stay. He could survive there without being found out, for his smoke or his aura, without being attacked, without being summoned, without being expected to perform soldier at the smallest whim. Here he could exist freely, but he wasn't free. He couldn't be Eion, in whatever incarnation Eion could manage.

There were more like him than he expected, but they were each too vastly different from each other to learn much. He still felt estranged from this odd, identity-obscured group that called themselves half-youma, for each was whole and then some, compared with his half. There was no one to ask about better methods for cleaning road tar and old food from a burning grate.

Faustite considered how transient he felt in that space as he stood atop a small step stool, and leaned over the sink like a ravening thing. A half-empty can of fume-free Easy-Off crowned the closed toilet lid, and Faustite scrubbed away black flecks and frothed foam into the sink basin. He was starting to see gunmetal behind matte charcoal. Despite its fume-free declaration, the corrosive stung his eyes, and he was half-convinced he'd poisoned himself something terrible. But he kept scrubbing.

Forty-five minutes in, and he was nearly done. Then the rest of the quadrant could have the bathroom back.


indigo_plateau
hope this works!
PostPosted: Tue Apr 27, 2021 6:19 am


Strickenized

He could barely convince himself to exist in this state. It didn't matter that he had spent the better part of a month curled beneath the blankets of a bed in the barracks that seemed as though it had surely been designed for a teenager. Or a prisoner, which was probably more accurate, at this point. The passage of time didn't help him feel more comfortable in this very foreign skin. It didn't help abate the loss of his entire life. And it really only seemed to further instigate the thought that he shouldn't be alive if he didn't have a life.

What was he doing here?

Janggunite had never been so sedentary a day in his normal, human life. He'd barely ever found time to rest through the night, what with every high-strung thought coaxing him to get up and do something or fix something or tend to some task he'd forgotten during the light of day. His job, his family, his goals required attention, and that had always nagged at him constantly. Anxiety fueled activity, and he'd always been so easily swayed to push forward through any doubt and discomfort.

That was all gone, now. That person, for all intents and purposes, didn't even exist, anymore. Everything he'd had: his job, his family, his ambitions, they were all gone. What was he supposed to occupy himself with now? The first few days after the change had been a horrific frenzy of trying to understand or fix or adjust, but it was all in vain.

The anxiety-induced adrenaline he'd been riding on for literally as long as he could remember simmered into silence. He didn't want to move. His mind was blank. He just slept, laying in the pitch darkness of his room and thinking absolutely nothing.

He needed to eat occasionally, though the food offerings in Negaspace were far from inspiring, and Janggunite found that since he was doing exactly nothing, he really needed to eat very little. Just enough to be inconvenient, as far as he was concerned. When nature called, he still felt obligated to answer, a far cry from how religiously he'd cared for himself just a month ago. Seeing that his skin was properly moisturized or that his white curls were suitably detangled, and that his clothes were neat and fashionable had been much of his life.

And now it was enough to just be in the dark, wrinkled undershirt of his uniform, with a pair of baggy sweatpants he'd pilfered from his brother. His hair was in a mat of tangles, and for all that he'd been sleeping for a month, the dark bags under his eyes were persistent. And he didn't even care.

Janggunite stalked to the communal bathroom for their quad, long tail dragging on the floor the entire way, and he arrived to see that it was already in use.

It had no business lighting the first spark of annoyance in him, but he did find himself unreasonably and immediately irked. He hadn't had to wait for the bathroom since he'd been a teenager, sharing a home with his eleven brothers and sisters. He wasn't some college student living in a dorm room. He was a ******** full-grown man with a job that afforded him a home the size of a ******** restaurant, and he wanted the conveniences he was accustomed to.

But that was unreasonable. Janggunite knew it was.

It was fine, it was fine, it was fine.

He puffed out a terse breath and leaned his shoulders back against the wall beside the door. It probably wouldn't even take longer than a minute. There was no reason to be upset. No one here was in... much a different situation than he was, anyway. Just be patient. It was fine.

His tail twitched, immediately becoming more animated as Janggunite tried unsuccessfully to get it together. And that annoyed him too. Stupid huge appendage just being in the way and moving and scuffling against things behind him, and he couldn't do anything about that, either. It twisted into tight coils behind him, tensing as if it were a striking serpent on its own.

Stupid and ******** hideous.

His long, black claws bit into his palms where he curled his fists, and a low, frustrated sound rolled out of his throat. Every single part of his body was against him, insisting on making things more difficult, worse. And this had been a very brief expedition out of his room for about five ******** minutes, and why wasn't this guy out of the bathroom yet.

There was no preamble between the silence of the hallway and Janggunite's venomous spit of "Get out," coupled with a balled fist rapped to the door.

No warning knock or polite inquiry, just an impatient demand.

Indigo_Plateau
Crew



Strickenized


Garbage Cat

PostPosted: Tue Apr 27, 2021 11:58 am


"You don't want that."

Faustite's flame roiled, danced, and licked outside of its cage. Half the contraption's segments were laid out on carefully placed paper towels, still wet with their cleaning treatment. While he worked, his flame threatened to catch anything that wasn't fireproofed, and had already blackened and smoldered the nearest edges of the paper towels. The few plastic handles to his screwdrivers were partly melted by the process — particularly the ones for the screws on the inside of the grate.

The handful of pieces left were for the section nearest his spine, and there was no impetus to rush a dangerous process. Whosoever stood outside the door was his rank or lower — he expected that no General Sovereign would spend their time in the barracks — so he remained steadfast in front of the sink.

Sooty hands reached inside himself and he watched in the mirror as another piece of grate and a screwdriver were taken inside. Elbows leaned on the sink edge; he committed parts to himself half by feel.

Lucky he was, he told himself, that he would never have gallstones. Looking at himself in the mirror, he told himself he was lucky to never find a place too dark. Lucky that he would never suffer cirrhosis of the liver, or colon cancer, or appendicitis. He could eat anything, even foods he hated, without tasting them. With a stomach full of fire, flame was hardly a bother. He would never grow old. He told himself, this was a small cost. He told himself, this was better than the alternative.

He told the impatient one, "There's six left. Wait your turn."


indigo_plateau
PostPosted: Tue Apr 27, 2021 2:24 pm


Strickenized

Janggunite’s lip curled at the sound of the voice through the door, flashing fangs that pinched at the sides of his cheeks as his aggravation boiled. His tail lashed in rhythmically lazy swoops, sweeping across the width of the hallway in tense coils. He’d asserted that it was foolish of him to bother getting worked up. It was not any innate desire of his to be more of an annoyance to anyone else than they were being to him.

But it was so inconsiderate, so ******** rude, absolutely selfish for one boy to be lounging about in the bathroom for forty-five minutes when there was an entire floor of monsters entitled to the same space.

If Janggunite had thought he was maybe overreacting and could stand to calm down, he didn’t feel that way, anymore. If these creatures were not going to afford him any decent human consideration, there didn’t seem need to offer it in return. He took one step back from the door, enough space for a sharp twist to gather the momentum to send his bare heel cracking into the flat of the door, a sparse inch from where the handle protruded.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it offered little resistance.

As it swung open, he might have hoped he’d only be greeted by some child playing on on their phone while on the pot, but somehow the immediate sting of chemicals felt inexplicably worse? The smell seared against the roof of his mouth. The poison nipped at the delicate webbing of the fins around his ears and the sensitive tendrils and thin petals that coiled over his tail. And obviously the one having sprayed such corrosives didn’t see any issue with poisoning a communal space inhabited by people with more sensitive senses, when it shouldn’t have been any more of a chore to do it outside, so as not to inconvenience the handful of others trying to use the facilities, and to not drench the enclosed area in toxic fumes and waste.

He could practically taste it.

But it wasn’t like anyone here cared about anyone else or considered the needs of any other living being. What a foolish thought for him to have. Janggunite took one step into the doorway and snatched for the patterned collar on the boy’s uniform as he spat more persistently, “Get out.”

Indigo_Plateau
Crew



Strickenized


Garbage Cat

PostPosted: Tue Apr 27, 2021 2:49 pm


Of course the door was broken open.

Of course another officer had to try his patience. This one, partly youma by look — something between a flower and an amphibious lizard. Captain by feel. Pissed off and poorly maintained at that.

Faustite drew a breath, then removed his hands from where his insides should've been. The screwdriver came out, but the screw hadn't — he only hoped it held a while longer before he could get the time to tighten it. The boy straightened, all fire and wick, and set brimstone sights on his interruptor proper. His expression resigned, his voice laconic: "Wait outside." A light cough interrupted his attempt at patience.

The youth rested a sootstained hand on the layers of paper towels, where five more bars to his metal cage awaited him. He expected the process to be self-explanatory.

Then again, the Negaverse nearly prided itself on its secretive rites and esoteric procedures. They recruited those as dense as they could find in hopes that orders would keep them from asking questions, too; what was to say that this youmafied recruit was any different? And when, exactly, would it be made his burden to explain himself unbidden?

"Or if you need it right now," he motioned toward the untouched toilet. Body privacy was only owed to humans, after all.


indigo_plateau
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Negaspace & The Rift

 
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