[log] Event: Metamorphosis, Part Three

[snowblindmods]

Characters: everyone
Location: all around town; note location in subject line
Date: Night 415 onward; note time in subject line
Summary: They break out and they wake up.
Warnings: extreme body horror, unreality, eldritch horror, absolutely definitely 100% include warnings in subject lines/before your comment if the subject line isn't long enough

Comments

[devoutish]

No.

[He keeps his hand extended, but doesn't move to touch Royce.]

[bywolves]

[ The shape hesitates, and then slowly drags itself up and sludges its way up Alfie's hand and arm, curling up around his shoulders. It trembles a bit, and then, quietly: ]

Hungry. [ He whispers, voice peppered with static. ]

[devoutish]

Yeah.

[He rubs a fiery cheek against the cloak.]

Let's go.

[And he'll start to walk. The further he goes, the closer to the ground Royce on his shoulders will get; his legs are crumbling, turning to ash.]

[bywolves]

[ This hurts to watch. Royce can't keep his shape either - parts of him drip and evaporate off Alfie, and sometimes, it feels like the thing can't keep hold of Alfie at all. The light that glows from the embers of Alfie's skin is frightening, but he doesn't care. This is Alfie. Alfie is his. They're sticking together, to the end, because this is the end.

Royce shifts on Alfie's shoulders, trying to move down. Maybe he can help Alfie walk. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie does his best to grab and hold, trying to keep him secure, but every time his fingers slip through.]

Stay.

[He says quietly, his voice whispy.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce makes a whimpery sound, reaching for Alfie's hand. He can't take it. He can't touch, nothing he does works. His fingers, crooked and shadowy, just slip through Alfie's entirely, or melt around his, or evaporate before he can even attempt to try. ]

Your legs. [ Royce protests, voice cracking. ]

[devoutish]

[But it's okay, because Alfie knows what he's trying to do. It's a psychological touch, even if it's not a physical one. He lifts a hand to try to stroke him again, but that's starting to crumble, too.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce protests again, wrapping himself around Alfie's arm. ]

Stop. Rest. [ Royce orders, panicked. Don't leave. Don't die. ]

[devoutish]

Too hungry for it.

[He has to keep walking, keep wandering - it's an aimless, restless thing.]

[bywolves]

[ He understands that - he's hungry too, it's just. ]

Can't find food if you're ash. [ Royce says, sharper, louder. More parts of him wisp away. ]

[devoutish]

[Is it really food he wants, though? He's not sure. He keeps shuffling along, though he's slowing with every step.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce can't make him stop. But he can fall off Alfie's shoulders, so he does. He drops down to the ground, splattering to the floor and laying in a heap. Hungry. He's starving, but this is more important. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie stops, reaching for Royce with fingers that are just ashy stubs.]

No, no, come on; we have to get away from them.

[bywolves]

What? [ Royce asks, confused, staring up at Alfie. Or - trying to. He doesn't exactly have a face or eyes, so much. He stays where he is, the liquid parts of him pulling away and dripping into the shadows of the tunnels. ]

[devoutish]

I don't trust them.

[Not any of them. He needs to get Royce somewhere safe and nice, where they can curl up together and just... be.]

[bywolves]

Who? [ But - he gets it. He also wants to just curl up. Until the hunger is too much, anyway. Cautiously, he slides closer and wraps around Alfie's crumbling legs, separating in two, forming supports, as much as he can. It hurts to do, it hurts - but he hold back the noises he wants to make. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie doesn't answer. He's really just a pile of half-formed ash now - he's becoming less and less solid by the minute. Down the tunnel, back the way they'd come from, the ash he'd left behind in trails sweeps across the floor towards them, as if blown by an invisible wind.]

[bywolves]

[ There's the sound of screaming, in the distance, in a far away place. If Alfie were human, he'd be numb, all of Royce's abilities freaking the fuck out. It's dark, yes, it's dark now, but he doesn't want the dark, he wants that small, frightening glow.

The mass of cloak and shadow jitters down the hallway, pained, and tries to help sweep the ash together into a pile. ]

[devoutish]

[That glow is fading, dying, almost entirely gone now. Alfie doesn't try to speak again. He doesn't even look like himself anymore - he's just a mound of ash with a flickering ember at its center.

But the mound grows bigger, as Royce piles the ash together.]

[bywolves]

Alfie. [ Royce whispers, distressed. He curls around the pile of ash, keeping it together, and he's solid, now, he's solid and he's not letting the last bit of Alfie go. ] Alfie.

[ Over and over and over again. Alfie, Alfie, Alfie. Don't leave him. ]

[devoutish]

[It happens slowly, just like the unmaking had happened slowly. The ember at his core flickers, and almost dies - and then it reignites, burning brighter. The ash continues to pile up, with Royce's help but also on its own. It forms a hand, with fingers that wiggle.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce carefully reaches to touch the hand, holding it. He's so focused on this. Focused on keeping Alfie together, focused on keeping himself together so that he can do this. The light almost makes him skitter away, but he doesn't. He won't run. He's not afraid, not of Alfie. ]

Stay. [ He whispers, only vaguely lucid. ] Stay with me.

[devoutish]

[The formation goes faster, and faster, and maybe it's just coincidence but maybe it's a little bit Royce, too. From the hand comes an arm, and then a shoulder, and then his upper torso. The other arm is next, and then a head, and a mouth that yawns like someone who's just waking up. And inside everything is that light, that fire, flickering wildly and burning bright.]

[bywolves]

[ The base instinct takes over, and he can't help it - the light gets brighter, and Royce whimpers and tries to close his eyes against it. It hurts. He doesn't want to look at it. His shape shudders and starts to fall apart again, dripping and evaporating and separating.

He slinks away, just a bit, and as Alfie starts to form again, Royce is a tiny puddle of shadowy wisps and sludge on the ground in front of him. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie, still only half-formed, reaches out blindly. He's looking for a hand or a cheek to touch.]

I want--

[His voice rasps and crackles like fire.]

I want it to be both of us, mate; I want us both to be here.