06-23-2021, 01:34 PM
Liet doesn't remember his life before his DNA changed. The loss of an entire three years causes him no pain, either. He doesn't feel anything at all, actually. Mostly, he wanders, mildly confused and only following his instinctual need for both food and water.
When his body starts changing involuntarily, he catches little snippets of memory in the midst of those changes. A mother that he vaguely resembles flashes behind his face as his hooves change to paws and teeth to fangs. A whisper about a father to him and many others as scales flash over his body and wings sprout from his back. Distant, visiting siblings as he falls into the form of a squeaking, tiny rodent.
Then there are the trees. When he walks amongst them, he feels an empty echo in his chest. A vibration, like the spreading of a bell. Sometimes, he presses himself against a dogwood and he almost feels something. When he thought he was sensing dread and remorse, he shifted once again. This time, his thoughts die and bark and branches and wide, white flowers sway in the breeze. A dogwood with a streak of pink down the middle of its trunk. There, he was stuck for six months. Only today has he returned to a horse, the form he feels most comfortable in.
Liet chokes, golden eyes peering up at the too-bright sun above him. He thinks that meant something to him as a tree. That he needed it. A tear forms in the corner of his eye.
"What am I?"
open :-)
When his body starts changing involuntarily, he catches little snippets of memory in the midst of those changes. A mother that he vaguely resembles flashes behind his face as his hooves change to paws and teeth to fangs. A whisper about a father to him and many others as scales flash over his body and wings sprout from his back. Distant, visiting siblings as he falls into the form of a squeaking, tiny rodent.
Then there are the trees. When he walks amongst them, he feels an empty echo in his chest. A vibration, like the spreading of a bell. Sometimes, he presses himself against a dogwood and he almost feels something. When he thought he was sensing dread and remorse, he shifted once again. This time, his thoughts die and bark and branches and wide, white flowers sway in the breeze. A dogwood with a streak of pink down the middle of its trunk. There, he was stuck for six months. Only today has he returned to a horse, the form he feels most comfortable in.
Liet chokes, golden eyes peering up at the too-bright sun above him. He thinks that meant something to him as a tree. That he needed it. A tear forms in the corner of his eye.
"What am I?"
open :-)