genessia | ✪ 𝔬𝔬2 ; 𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖈𝖔𝖋𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖘 ✪ closed action & open text

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✪ 𝔬𝔬2 ; 𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖈𝖔𝖋𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖘 ✪ closed action & open text

☆♬○♩●♪✧♩　𝒸𝓁ℴ𝓈ℯ𝒹　♩✧♪●♩○♬☆
[ Sleeping had become a regular enjoyment for D since having arrived here. He was actually able to enjoy a plentiful and full rest, rather than sleep with one eye open (more or less) which was the kind he had at home. Additionally, even the bed in the Commonspace was enjoyable, better than the ground, dirt, hay, or couches he was accustomed to. Not that in all of his long years the places he rested did much to the form of his body, after all, he had reparative properties and wouldn’t have to worry about things like that.

It just was nice to be able to enjoy his rest. Furthermore, he enjoyed it these last few nights next to the sound of a beating heart. Gren’s life force thumping away, lulling him into a sleep with a closeness he’s never once allowed himself to feel before. I don’t get to have a life.. Yet, here, in this world, there were far too many reasons to indulge in that very fantasy.

Things were going rather fine, having to navigate what it was to be around someone he wanted to be around for more than a business purpose, acquaintance, or whatever else.. he was trying at least and thus far it seemed to be.. fine.

Yes. Fine.

Until he woke with a start. Amiss was the soft sounds of breath, snores, and heartbeat from Gren and the void dampened a distinct discomfort from the core of horror which had D all but leaping out of the bed and touching at his mouth. Instantly, he noted the weight at his rear and the sight of nine tails swishing about around him with an anxious tick, the fur on his tails responded with piloerection and it went more than just the tails but across his skin as his flesh prickled in fear. D then looked to his hand, where he touched his fangs with, and found they were clean.

He also noted he didn’t feel different as in satisfied, full, or crazed with dark beast’s arousal. In fact, he just felt scared, and different (with the tails). ]

𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙❜𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝕯❓ 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖆 𝖓𝖊𝖜 𝖆𝖘𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖘❓ 𝕴 𝖆𝖑𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖜 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆 𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋❗
[ Lefty spoke up, without any hint of concern for the fear rolling across D’s flesh. But, it was like the old parasite to tease him rather than to comfort him. ]

Did I… have I? [ He looked at Gren’s lifeless body, afraid for what he might have done while he was sleeping. ]

☆♬○♩●♪✧♩　ℴ𝓅ℯ𝓃　♩✧♪●♩○♬☆

[ After some significant time with Gren, they check the network, together, to see what other changes have occurred.. and when they might find themselves returning to normal. D, for loath of admitting to his own.. changes, opts for text: ]

So, some of us have changed. Any update on this status? Any ideas on what this is about?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Gren was in a hazy dreamscape sitting atop a grassy knoll that overlooked a herd of clucking bats. Their little, black bodies bounced around as they greedily pecked at the earth like chickens. Gren was their shepherd and he hummed softly to them as they fed on a sprinkling of cake crumbs. The melody he hummed sounded like the alphabet song, but every time he reached the letter D the tune would reset to the letter A and he’d hum it all over again. A, B, C, D, A, B, C…

The refrain from the last hummed note echoed off the impenetrable darkness that suddenly swept over the land to engulf everything in black. It was cold and still. It was dead.

Gren stirred at the sound of voices, tugging the blanket up over his shoulders and turning his back to the noise. ]

...If you’re going to whisper sweet nothings to your weird hand do it quietly, please.

[ Gren was still for a moment until the blanket abruptly sailed away from his body, booted off by a flurry of frustrated kicks. He felt so uncomfortable. ]

[ D tenses at Gren’s voice, it didn’t make any sense. Yet, he also had to take in account that he too changed. He was something different. He was..

a mythological creature. Gren’s state, however, took precedence over whatever was happening, or had happened, to D. The lack of breath and heartbeat was significantly concerning to D and he reached forward just as Gren kicked the sheets off, which startled D’s hand backward. ]

Gren, … Gren. [ Beneath the demanding call there was worry to the way D said his name. ]

[ The space between his brows furrows into a deep trench overflowing with evident frustration. The source of it, however, isn’t as apparent and that in and of itself irritates Gren that much more. He felt uncomfortably… strange and desperately in need of something that he couldn’t quite pinpoint yet. The absence of it irks and unsettles him.

Gren. He groans, finding himself having to concentrate on the breath that propels the sound from his body. He’s manually dragging in air and shoving it out and he soon realizes that if he doesn’t try… it doesn’t happen at all.

The realization stirs him into a sitting position, his elbows propped on his bare thighs and his forehead cradled in the nest of his palms. He remains still, waiting for the involuntary pull and release of air into his lungs. The inaction of his own body becomes that much more apparent to Gren and he begins to rock back and forth as if to ward off the reality. His eyes close, his head tips back, and his hands come to rest on his throat. The onset of anxiety should have had the skin on his neck flushed and thrumming with the beating of his heart, but Gren’s fingertips felt nothing but stillness that grew colder by the second. ]

D… D, there’s something wrong… There’s something really wrong.

[ Gren’s nails begin to bore into the flesh of his neck as if to excavate the baseline functions that he had been deprived of. He doesn’t realize his strength and his fingers easily leave pale, bloodless gouges in his flesh. He continues to rake at the skin. He’s aware of the damage being done, but he doesn’t understand why he can’t feel it. So he rakes and rakes, desperate for the pain that never comes. ]

[ D’s there in an instant, pulling Gren’s hands back from his neck and his own breath wild and uncontrolled. His face expresses what he doesn’t say: Stop it, don’t do that.. don’t hurt yourself. Despite the hurt being something amiss this action, as evidenced for the lack of response to what Gren’s doing to himself. D’s knees set on the bed, the indent of the mattress is more than just the weight of his knees but also the heaviness of each tail that steadies around him, keeping him balanced and acting almost independently or automatically to provide him with a comfortable response to his new position.

He pulls down Gren’s hands and he looks to his partner with a throbbing guilt stabbing at his heart with each pump of blood. ]

Gren..

[ Gren forces out a breath that sounds like a wheezy whimper. His eyes, dim and murky, waver from D’s painfully telling expression to settle on the heap of tails splayed around the other. Gren’s jaw slackens, dropping his mouth into a gape as he sluggishly begins to process the sight. It was beautiful and far less horrifying than being a breathless, shredded corpse. But it was still very strange. ]

...What’s happening?

[ His hands are limp in D’s, dangling uselessly from his wrists. His eyes come back to focus on D’s face, searching for answers that an ancient entity would surely have. ]

We have changed, without our consent.

[ And, as if this notion would comfort the both of them indefinitely, D pulls Gren close to his chest and wraps his arms around him. Despite the new situation, what’s become of them, he was relieved he did not take Gren’s life. That he was not responsible for that horror. Anything else he could face, though he did fear what Gren may think of this. ]

Let’s figure this out. [ He pulled back from the hug and brought his hands up to Gren’s neck to softly cup at the straps of flesh that flapped and hung in gore. He wondered if Gren was searching his neck out of the same fear D had. After a moment he pulled his hands back and crawled off the bed to retrieve his scarf and phone. He handed the fabric to Gren with one hand and with his other he opened the network on his phone. ]

[ Although Gren hadn’t reciprocated the hug he did find some comfort in the affection offered to him. He was extremely grateful that D, his companion, was present in this moment with him. If Gren had woken up alone he may have clawed his head right off of his body. ]

...How come you getta be... cuter?

[ His words slur as more of the warmth seeps from his body, robbing him of vitality. He reaches up slowly to take the scarf. The process of wrapping it around his shredded neck appears to be a laborious one, but eventually he manages to securely drape it into place. ]

[ D’s brows drew together with a frown pulling a the corner of his lips. How he looked didn’t really occur to him. He was far too concerned about Gren. He takes a moment to look at his tails, really look at them, then he moves his hands up to his head to feel at the long ears on top of his hair. ]

Is that what you think? [ He says dryly before he lowers his hands. He picks up the phone again from the bed, where it had dropped with the need to examine himself, and searched through the posts. ]

This.. is something that’s happened to many others.

[ Gren swallows and the sound of it is loud enough to hear, thick and wet like sloshing swill. A hand sneaks up under the scarf, twiddling with a strip of hanging skin as his body begins to softly sway. His lids are laying heavy on eyes that are weaving in and out of focus. He mumbles something low that could be interpreted as him asking: why?

Other than that he doesn't make another sound. ]

I will ask … if anyone knows anything about it.. and when we can expect to be brought back.. to ourselves.

[ The silence is an awkward feeling between the two of them, perhaps it was just an addition to the already awkward situation they both were in. As uncomfortable as D was, he could easily admit he was likely not as uncomfortable as Gren. D sets his phone down and settles back on his heels. ]

Be careful with your body.

[ Gren drops his hand and it falls to his thigh with a sharp clapping of flesh. His head is feeling muddy, the thoughts disjointed and drifting further from one one another. He asks again: why?, but there’s no way that it could be interpreted as anything but an incoherent moan.

The swaying of his body becomes more accentuated as his head tips forward and upsets his balance. He stiffens and straightens back up just as he’s about to fall face first into D. The conflict with consciousness and balance compounds with his discomfort and unidentified need and as a result he moans even louder. ]

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[text] not a chance in hell.

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