[ He tries to remember what happened last, as his vision ebbs in and out, as his body slowly shrinks down from a patchwork of monstrosities to something paler, smaller. Wings fold into his back, rows of teeth sheathe, antlers tuck into the fissures of his skull. Dozens of gleaming eyes close and revert back to those of a man, as he inhales and grasps for bearings.
What happened last was...
Nothing.
Nothing – the same as it's always been since he took on his sacred charge. The void, darkness, solitude. Silence.
Above him, a tarp whips in the wind. Tools clink on the tray next to the bed. Sunlight peeks in through the claw-shaped tears he ripped in the polyester minutes earlier. He winces, shades his eyes with a human hand.
No power should be able to abduct him from his prison. No power should be able to hold him, muzzle him, dull the edges of his senses so profoundly that he can't see past the room in front of him. No power should be able to hold him down to a bed, to produce a substance that can subdue him. Him.
Where the hell is he?
A voice speaks from the tent's entrance. He turns, lowers his hand from his face. Whatever he was before, he's now a gaunt, pale man, head bandaged and leaning on one arm as he sits up from the cot beneath him. ]
I know, I was there. [ He appraises the girl leaning against the makeshift doorframe – slight, greyish skin, reptilian features. Similar but not identical to a number of alien races he can think of off the top of his head. ] Are you here to tell me what the hell is going on? Because I think the other guys aren't coming back.
The Horrors™
What happened last was...
Nothing.
Nothing – the same as it's always been since he took on his sacred charge. The void, darkness, solitude. Silence.
Above him, a tarp whips in the wind. Tools clink on the tray next to the bed. Sunlight peeks in through the claw-shaped tears he ripped in the polyester minutes earlier. He winces, shades his eyes with a human hand.
No power should be able to abduct him from his prison. No power should be able to hold him, muzzle him, dull the edges of his senses so profoundly that he can't see past the room in front of him. No power should be able to hold him down to a bed, to produce a substance that can subdue him. Him.
Where the hell is he?
A voice speaks from the tent's entrance. He turns, lowers his hand from his face. Whatever he was before, he's now a gaunt, pale man, head bandaged and leaning on one arm as he sits up from the cot beneath him. ]
I know, I was there. [ He appraises the girl leaning against the makeshift doorframe – slight, greyish skin, reptilian features. Similar but not identical to a number of alien races he can think of off the top of his head. ] Are you here to tell me what the hell is going on? Because I think the other guys aren't coming back.