[log] we wear red so they don't see us bleed [closed]

[bywolves]

Characters: Royce Melborn, Alfie Solomons
Location: Building 141
Date: Day 242, morning
Summary: Both boys are monsters, figuratively and literally.
Warnings: Body horror, possible gore, warnings for other things in subject headers

141: A post office, long-abandoned. There are a few empty white plastic bins where mail was once piled up, and the lobby area is still remarkably clean and polished. The back area isn't locked, so if you like you can go through the back and see the office with its locked safe and the back door that leads to the downtown area. Trees, impossibly tall men, and lots of Ⓧs have been drawn on the walls, along with ball-like things that are made up of tentacles and beaks and death and one circle in green crayon that's been scribbled over in charcoal.

Comments

[devoutish]

[Alfie watches this for about half an hour before he decides that he probably should wake him up. Rest is good, and he's happy that Royce is sleeping, but letting the man stew in nightmares seems cruel.]

Royce. Hey.

[He shifts to rest a knee against Royce'e back. He'd use his hand, but over the course of the past hour, his fingernails have started to grow into long, sharp claws.]

[bywolves]

[ He wakes up groggily, with a groan he can't stop. He aches fiercely, like growing pains but ten times worse. Like his joints are giving out, like his bones are dissolving slowly. He turns his head to press his face into the pillow to muffle himself, to try and adjust to the sensation enough so that he can sit up. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie lets his knee rest where it is, but doesn't press into him at all - he remembers what had happened last time.]

Getting worse?

[bywolves]

Of course. [ Royce mutters, taking a steadying breath. He pulls himself up slowly, gritting his teeth as he does. That hurts extra horribly - his teeth have gotten longer in his sleep, like razors. He manages to get himself up to lean heavily against the wall, almost panting as he finally looks up at Alfie. ]

You? [ He hasn't noticed the claws through the haze of pain. ]

[devoutish]

Careful of my hands.

[His voice is a little hoarse.]

They're, ah-- a bit sharper than normal.

[bywolves]

[ Oh. Well then. Royce frowns, staring at Alfie's hands. A long pause, as he registers and files it away, and then, quietly: ] I'm sorry.

[devoutish]

It's not forever. Eh? Not for either of us.

[And he hasn't been affected by the mental changes yet - the ones that he assumes are coming.

Knowing that and waiting is almost the worst part.]

[bywolves]

[ He curls in on himself, doing his best to keep himself quiet as the worst of it ebbs in and ebbs out. ]

Shouldn't be happening to begin with. [ He pauses to run his tongue along his teeth. Almost wryly, he bares them at Alfie (they're sharper, and... look almost rusted) and says: ] We match.

[devoutish]

[Alfie lets out a hoarse little laugh.]

Spending too much time together.

[bywolves]

[ Royce snorts, wrapping his arms around his waist. Give him a second. ]

Still don't know why it's this. [ A beat. ] That - that we're becoming. Why a cloak? Eve has a sense of humor, or.

[ He's having a bit of a hard time stringing sentences together, but he's trying anyway. ]

[devoutish]

You're always in that cloak. Has it become a part of you, or have you transformed into an extra one?

[Carefully, aware of his too-long, razor-sharp fingernails, he picks through the blankets, looking for Royce's cloak.]

[bywolves]

It was - it was sticking to me. Earlier. [ A pause, and then, gritted: ] It's still on me. I'm still wearing it. I'm afraid to see what's under it.

[devoutish]

Leave it on, then. It's all right.

[bywolves]

[ He pulls at it a bit regardless, though, and hisses when he tries to pull it from his skin. It's like yanking at hair, at something... attached. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie winces, and reaches for him automatically, but doesn't actually touch him.]

Royce.

[bywolves]

Mm. [ Royce answers, with a tinge of fright. ] I don't.

[ He stops himself. Nope. No more talking. He's just going to very carefully pull himself to his feet, using the wall for most of his support. This alone nearly kills him, with how much pain shoots through his limbs at the task. ]

[devoutish]

Royce-- Royce.

[Alfie tries to follow, but winces himself when he's halfway to his feet. He's not getting the same shooting pain that Royce is, but there's definitely something amiss here. On a hunch, he sits back down and carefully peels off one of his socks, and... yup. His toenails are starting to slowly grow into claws, too. That's going to make walking difficult until he gets used to it.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce gives himself a second to just lean against the wall and get used to this. It's nothing worse than he's felt before. Just surprising. ]

Claws? [ Royce asks, nodding his head a little at Alfie's feet. ]

[devoutish]

[He nods.]

I don't want to destroy the socks.

[Which will make keeping warm a problem, but he doesn't want to come out of this with giant claw-holes in the toes of every sock that they own. He'll find some fabric to wrap up with.]

[bywolves]

Hard to find replacements. [ Royce agrees, slowly pushing himself off the wall. ] You might not be cold for long. I wasn't, the last time.

[devoutish]

Right. Yeah.

[Barefoot now, he tries standing again, his hand-claws scratching the walls as he scrabbles at them. It's a little awkward, but.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce's instinct is to reach out and help Alfie up. He tries, offering a hand, but he's next to useless on actually following through. ]

You don't have to stand, too. I just want to look in the mirror. See how bad it is.

[devoutish]

[Alfie doesn't take his hand - he doesn't want to hurt him more.]

Mm. Yeah, all right.

[He stays standing, but doesn't follow Royce.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce stumbles his way to the back, where the one restroom is. He holds onto the sink and just stares at himself for a while. It's bad. His teeth are sharp, like an animal. They're not quite the same as before, with that rusted metal look, and his skin is still shadowy. His cloak is attached, he finds. Threaded to his skin. If he pulls, he thinks, he could get it off, but it hurts bad enough that he won't.

He reaches, slowly, to push his hand through his hair again, and this time, another alarming chunk comes out. Breath hitching, he stares at it, and then continues to pull it out. When it's out, sitting in the sink, it looks like strands of black thread.

Royce turns and makes his way back out into the lobby. He's bald, yes, but he also doesn't look much like Royce anymore. His features are mostly the same, but he's made of shadow, his eyes bright yellow, his mouth just a little too big. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie, still standing against the wall, lets out a little sound of surprise and distress when he sees him.]

Your hair?

[Did it fall out in its own?]