Lithier
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Side-Write: This Body
🕑 Added 2025-02-01 03:33:00 +0000 UTCI've been avoiding it for a while, so I decided to come back to exploring the emotional situation around the player character again. I've gotten into that some in previous side-writes, but since each player will bring their own expectations and desires to the game, I think it can go a few different ways. This one didn't quite go how I wanted in the end, but some parts connected better than I expected, I think.
As always, this isn't really canon so much as an exploration of what might be going on in the world of Project Wild One! I hope you find it an interesting read!
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I don't know how I ended up... like this. I don't remember a lot from before, but enough to know that this... isn't right. I'm not right.
My hands are claws. Like, not just claws. Talons. It's like I've got daggers for fingers. I've cut myself open just trying to scratch itches. My mouth is full of fangs like that, too. I've learned to be really careful with my tongue. My body is...
The stupid thing is, I don't even really remember what kind of body I was expecting to have. I just know it was... not this. Not all muscle and sharp bits and... hunger. So damned hungry, all the time. I'm getting really tired of feeling hungry, but I-- I can't bring myself to eat, not... what this body wants. I scrounge up what I can. Berries, roots, just about any plant I can choke down and keep down. Hell, I've tried eating grass. Leaves. The whole time, all I can think about is...
I've got to stay focused. Anytime I relax, even while eating, I start to slip up. Sometimes I'll put something in my mouth, and I'll just start chewing on my own hand, dreaming about... meat. If my mind wanders while I'm moving around, I won't even realize what I'm doing until I spot someone moving through the woods. And then I realize, their scent is in my nose. I've been tracking them. And that moment, when I spot the movement in the brush, there's this... incredible rush, this silent scream of joy and anticipation, this... NEED. The hunger is strangling me, and my body moves on its own, lurching forward, and it's all I can do to turn, to ram my stupid face into a tree before I can't stop myself. That's the only way I've found to actually stop myself enough, and warn them enough, that they run off before I can catch them.
Panting, gurgling, shaking, I lie here, suffering. My body... hates me, I think. Or maybe I just hate it. It... hurts, hearing the prey-- the person, or whatever I was hunting, get away. My... body knows what it needs, and how to get it. My muscles jerk, trying to launch me up onto my feet, but I manage to hold myself in place, wrestling with my own thrashing, struggling legs and arms. I can't. I won't. I will never be... that.
It's not just the meat, is the worst thing. Not just... food. I'm... I've been hard for days, now. But... even if I found someone willing, how could I...? I tear the bark off trees with barely a touch. The few creatures I've seen closer up have all been... small, and delicate. Some of them seem familiar, sort of. Maybe I used to be like them? But when I think about that, all I can feel is... jealousy. Why do they get to be... normal, to have normal bodies, while I'm...?
It's like I'm driving some kind of huge truck, but I can't reach the brakes, and I can barely see where I'm going enough to avoid running people over. Except it's even worse, because this truck keeps swerving toward the nearest person, however far away they are. And it wants worse than to give them a quick death.It's... terrifying, and all I can feel is guilt, and worry that I'll do something even worse any second. That I'll slip up, and that'll be it for someone, that somebody is going to be absolutely destroyed by my tiniest lapse in judgement.
I can't do this. I can't keep going. I can't even trust this body to move on its own anymore-- I can barely stay upright when I'm really paying attention to how I move, but if I let my body move on its own, it's too fast, and always trying to do something awful! So I'm just stumbling through the woods, bumping into trees, trampling bushes, struggling every step to keep my feet under me. Even turning my head to look around feels weird, and my ears are filled with a constant roar of noise it's impossible to separate, my nose exploding with more scents than I ever knew existed. I can't think straight like this. I can hardly think straight even when I'm not taking the time to place every step myself. Like this... I think I'm dying. Or maybe I'm just hoping.
Whimpers. Not... mine? I stop, dragging a deep breath in, and hear it again. Something... someone... is whining. The scent on the air makes drool dribble down my chin. If I let go, even for a second, I would be wherever they were. I try to turn my head, to see if the scent grows stronger. My ears should tell me the direction, but they keep turning around this way and that. Headache. My teeth make a grisly noise as they saw across each other.
I move toward them. W-wait. Is it my body moving me? Stop! C-control! Breathe, slow down, take control! I... stop. Was I...?
Another whimper. I move again. Something's wrong. Something... I didn't do. I don't know how much of this is my body, and how much is... me, whatever is left of me, but I'm moving, and I can't gather the strength to stop it. I don't know if I really want to.
A broad, furry back. Dark, with silver flecks. He's big. Maybe bigger than me. A... monster...! I stare, quivering.
He's stooped low, but I can see blocky muscles flexing under his fur. He's slouched over something he's holding. Is he... whimpering? ...No. No, there's something--
There's a leg, over his hip. Fine, pale fur. Slack. Spattered red along a few curved lines.
A whimper, quiet and hollow. Hopeless. Just a raw breath of suffering.
Before I fully register what's happening in front of me, I feel something seize and twist in my gut. My face twists up, my vision narrowing. A terrible, cold fire spreads from the core of me, and every hair on my body stands up as my muscles swell into stone. The claws in my feet dig into the ground at the same instant I realize: I want to kill him.
The world blurs out to either side of me as some terrible, gurgling shriek tears out of my throat, but he looks up too late. My teeth are in his flesh, just under his armpit, and I almost break my own neck when my entire body weight smashes into him behind that bite. He roars, clawing into my back, and I close my eyes.
Do it. Don't hold back.
Terrible sounds echo through my skull. The drum roll of bones rattling under my teeth, softened only by the slice of flesh. My arms wrench around, and I think I'm upside down for a second, but everything is a blur. Snarls. Slurping spatters. Pops. It's all a single long, overwhelming roll of thunder, pounding through my head.
Then I'm eating. The relief, the satisfaction, the absolute joy of feeling that first lump of flesh slide down my throat deadens my internal revulsion. I want to throw up, but I can't. It tastes too good. I'm bleeding all over my meal, and I don't care. I just eat, and eat, and eat.
This body doesn't cry. Not for sorrow, and not for joy. I know that, now.
I hear something move nearby, and my back tenses. I... push myself to keep eating, and I dig in with renewed vigor. I hear light footsteps retreating, and a tingle runs up my back, but I manage to hold myself in place. I sigh into the bowl I've carved under my chin, panting for breath, and resume my feast.
I can... Maybe I can... live, like this. Something stretched snapping thin is finally falling slack, and a terrible buzzing is dying down high in the back of my skull. I can... think. I can move my body without it fighting me. For a moment, I don't even feel afraid. Maybe... this will work. Maybe I can find the right... meals. The right prey. I... I think I could live with that.
Eventually, I slow, and slump back, belly swollen, puffing for air. I feel... good. Maybe it's just because I've been so miserable, but I feel... amazing. I lie back, overwhelmed with just... the raw ecstasy of it. I don't even know how to process everything I'm feeling, I just... lose myself in it. N-not all bad, I guess. I don't... I didn't know you could feel this way just from a good meal. I feel like I'm glowing, there's a tingle dancing around under my hide, and the canopy is swirling about over me.
If this is how it feels to be a monster, then... maybe I can just... be my own kind of monster. Whatever I am now... I'll carve my own path.
Comments
hope steele
I really loved this writing! Really easy to understand the characters feelings. Im not comparing it but it really reminded me of how dexter had to control his killing urges and use them for good
