Metamorphosis
Jul 21, 2019 18:15:47 GMT -6
Post by Briar on Jul 21, 2019 18:15:47 GMT -6
Aubrey didn't know what was happening to himself.
A few weeks ago, he had noticed a strange tingling sensation in his wings. At the time, he had thought nothing of it, not even when it persisted--- it hadn't been painful back then.
He hadn't expected his wings to fall off. He hadn't expected any of what came after--- the urge to run away somewhere quiet and hidden, to dig until his hands were raw and submerse himself in the dirt. By then, it was the only thing that quelled the horrible itching that had plagued him everywhere, constantly, driving him nearly insane with it.
In the dirt, it had been quiet for a time. Aubrey had thought that maybe he was dying, that this was the life cycle of a Harachiu. Not much was known about how they aged after they attained their wings in adulthood, after all; Aster had said as much. If he was dying, then he was doing so without much cause for regret. He only wished that he had known, so he could have bid his family goodbye.
But death didn't come, and after some time, Aubrey's consciousness resurfaced to something more like waking again. In the end, it was hunger that drove him to dig himself out. If it had been a normal sort of hunger, he might have stayed where he was; he didn't want to prolong the process of his own passing, and the memory of the terrible itching was still fresh in his mind. But the hunger was almost as all-consuming. His body seemed to move almost of its own accord. His senses narrowed, searching for anything that seemed even remotely edible, driven by the sharp pain that had lodged itself somewhere in his gut.
The woods--- the woods behind the house--- everything was a blur. Berries, roots, leaves. Carrion. The stench of it--- he remembered that. Remembered retching at the edge of a creek after, the spasms tearing through his body as though they were bigger than he was.
Through the haze of pain, a thought was forming: a doctor. He needed to find a doctor. Maybe they would know... Gods, he just wanted this to stop. He couldn't fly anymore, and he had little in the way of bearings. It was luck alone that he managed to stumble onto a road. He nearly sagged in relief when he saw it. If he followed this, then surely...
But before he could finish the thought, his vision spun, and everything went dark all at once.
A few weeks ago, he had noticed a strange tingling sensation in his wings. At the time, he had thought nothing of it, not even when it persisted--- it hadn't been painful back then.
He hadn't expected his wings to fall off. He hadn't expected any of what came after--- the urge to run away somewhere quiet and hidden, to dig until his hands were raw and submerse himself in the dirt. By then, it was the only thing that quelled the horrible itching that had plagued him everywhere, constantly, driving him nearly insane with it.
In the dirt, it had been quiet for a time. Aubrey had thought that maybe he was dying, that this was the life cycle of a Harachiu. Not much was known about how they aged after they attained their wings in adulthood, after all; Aster had said as much. If he was dying, then he was doing so without much cause for regret. He only wished that he had known, so he could have bid his family goodbye.
But death didn't come, and after some time, Aubrey's consciousness resurfaced to something more like waking again. In the end, it was hunger that drove him to dig himself out. If it had been a normal sort of hunger, he might have stayed where he was; he didn't want to prolong the process of his own passing, and the memory of the terrible itching was still fresh in his mind. But the hunger was almost as all-consuming. His body seemed to move almost of its own accord. His senses narrowed, searching for anything that seemed even remotely edible, driven by the sharp pain that had lodged itself somewhere in his gut.
The woods--- the woods behind the house--- everything was a blur. Berries, roots, leaves. Carrion. The stench of it--- he remembered that. Remembered retching at the edge of a creek after, the spasms tearing through his body as though they were bigger than he was.
Through the haze of pain, a thought was forming: a doctor. He needed to find a doctor. Maybe they would know... Gods, he just wanted this to stop. He couldn't fly anymore, and he had little in the way of bearings. It was luck alone that he managed to stumble onto a road. He nearly sagged in relief when he saw it. If he followed this, then surely...
But before he could finish the thought, his vision spun, and everything went dark all at once.