[open] the abyss has teeth now

[Chemdog]

While unconscious his spirit feels detached, floating away from his lifeless, cold body. His summoned souls take a moth form and glow faintly, fluttering across the tumbling waters from the opposite bank to float eerily over his body. They do not bother the living being that creeps from the wood line to lurch over him, a shapeshifter that seems to move with the shadows and change just as fluidly. In his dreams the moths move across the bright nebulas with his disembodied self, and from the endless stars he hears the echo of footsteps, breathing and a long wrinkle tentacle – no, an elephant trunk, pierces the starlit blackness, the colorful gases swirling away as it blows a deafening scream into the void. He's sucked from the comfortable floating warmth back into his freezing, weakened body. He growls at the pain, his teal eyes opening to see the dim spirit-moths moving above him, making a small bit of light. A silhouette hovers over him but it’s gone before he can process anything.

He sits up, wincing at his gashed shoulder, a broken fang protruding still. The cold water has numbed him, stinging and numb at the same time to be more specific. He can’t feel his legs much, but still, he tries to hoist himself out of the frigid water. He gets to the dry bank and makes poorly attempt at shaking the wet off of him, grunting at the strong burning bolts of pain moving through him each time he moves.

“Hey, you,” his voice is strained, and his eyes can barely pick out the outline of the stranger who screamed at him, The rest he assumed was a mixture of hallucination and delirium – an elephant trunk and something more than a scream dragging him into consciousness. “Can you pull this out?” he looks down at the mangled meaty mess, teeth stuck in his flesh, poison oozing out of it. His immortality is trying to heal it over, but it’s dark magic, its poison from some other plane – his body is struggling to fight it. His only hope is to remove the foreign body’s, hopefully that will allow him to heal over.  He winces as he pulls a smaller tooth out, spitting it on the ground, and another, but he cannot get the leverage to remove the two large fangs stabbed into his flesh and muscle. “Please..” he exhales, his beathing labored and raspy. His body starting to weaken more, wanting to sway and pull him back down to the ground. Being immortal won’t help him much if he stays poisoned. He will only live a long, tortured life of blurry consciousness and unconsciousness, never able to do much but groan in pain and fall down all the time.

“Or just fucking kill me,” he writhes as he pulls more teeth from his shoulder, each word struggling out of him, “if that is easier.” he blows a hard snort from his nostrils, hot blood spurting from them and dripping down his lips.

CHEMDOG
to the window, to the wall

8

@[Dretch] OOHHH <3
mmhmm yes!