only the moon howls; any

[Noctem]

Noctem

there are nights
when the wolves are silent
and only the Moon howls

I expected pain, expected the agony of soul and body clashing, fighting to occupy the same space. This, though? Oh, there was a little pain, tingling along the skin as the hairs changed, a sickening flutter of the irises as the pigment darkened from blue to brown and a twisting, clenching, cramping, savage rearranging of—well, of reproductive organs as our body shifted from female to male. Fucking weird. But beyond the superficial changes and the discomfort caused by a body unaccustomed to shifting in any way…somehow, this time it didn’t hurt.

This time, soul and body embraced, settling into each other’s skin as easily as an indrawn breath, feeling already at home on the exhale. It was such a stark contrast to the last time, writhing and screaming and begging them to let me die and now? A gentle breeze stroked along her—my skin. Mine. I had skin. Its fingers tangled in my mane, playing, teasing. Warmth beat down on that skin of mine from above, light and heat, sunshine. Little bits of darkness danced across my closed eyelids, shadows cast by something somewhere up.

Even up was suddenly a substantial thing, a force with weight and newfound significance. Its opposite tugged on me, holding me to the surface of-oh! Solid, sturdy, firm beneath my sprawled-out body, soft tendrils reaching up out of the dirt to tickle my face. Earth. Ground. Grass, I breathed in the scent of it, fresh and bright and somehow green, though how a scent could be a color I wasn’t quite sure yet. This was, though. The world smelled green, grass and leaves and countless growing things. Newness, sprouting, limitless potential, that was the smell of green.

I liked it.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, I opened my eyes, squinting against the intensity of the midday sun. At first, all I saw was the blinding blue-white-yellow that slowly resolved into sky-clouds-sun. Green, that lovely green, the leaves that had cast shadows on my face. Movement, the fluttering black of a crow as its caw pierced the relative quiet. Ears! I had ears. They swiveled around, almost of their own accord, catching the whisper of the wind, the rustle of grass and leaves, the chirruping sound of a cricket somewhere nearby. The sound of my breathing, the beat of my heart, the buzz of a fly as it zoomed past me.

How? How could she give this up? Ah, but mine had hurt that first time too, vicious dissonance and agony stabbing through straight to my soul. Perhaps it was not just the having of a body, but the body itself, and the timing, and—oh, but why waste time pondering, when there was a life to be lived? And how did the body work, then?

Like a newborn, I struggled, lurched to my feet, launching myself much farther toward the sky than was comfortable. Wobbly, bobbly, nobbly knees that didn’t quite know yet how to support the weight of a body that appeared to be around a year or so old, instead of the newborn I could just as well have been or the…how long ago had we been born? How long had I been dead? Over a decade. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen years? Perhaps it didn’t matter. Our body was a yearling, so I would be a yearling. She’d spent so little time in it, after all. Would it age for her too, with me living in it now? Dead or alive, we’d always aged together.

Oh right. The ground, ow. Oh, hey, there was a glimmer of the pain I’d been expecting, but only the faintest bit. The impact of a heavy body on solid ground, nothing compared to the shrieking torment of a birth I’d do better not to dwell on any longer. Right. Ground. Good. Hello, ground. I planted one front hoof, the other, lurched once again until I balanced precariously on these wobbly new legs. Careful, tentative steps forward, stumbling, catching, no great tumble to the earth this time. No, I was maybe even getting the hang of this walking thing. Or. Well, at least the standing part was going alright, even if that straight line I was attempting got a little zigzaggy.

A grumbling in my belly because oh right, eating was a thing I’d have to do now. Hunger. My eyes narrowed, intently focused on the grass as my head lowered toward the solid, steady earth. The grass stared right back, tickling my nostrils and triggering a sudden explosive snort that shook my whole body, almost sending me toppling back to the ground. What? Well how the hell was I supposed to…? Glaring this time, I tried again. Slower, lipping at the grass as it tried to attack the inside of my nose again. Blowing out, making the grass dance out of grasp. Sneaky. Tricky little green bastards. Ha! I finally managed to grab hold of a mouthful without snorting or sneezing or blowing it away, and oh! Oh, things could taste green too! Perhaps green would be my favorite color. Something to consider as I hunted for another mouthful.

[graveling]

She grows, and the dead flesh recedes.
When she first came, crossed realms at the side of the ghost-king (a strange and mystic process she cannot quite comprehend), she tumbled to the earth a living corpse. The skin as mostly rot, only a promise of gold beneath; bones peeking through, a glimpse inside where wet lungs squelched and a heart began to beat.
But as she grows, the death that was wrapped around her lessens, cedes her body to life (for now, of course). She is more truly golden, now, like her mother, and her mane begins to resemble cornsilk rather than dead weeds.
Only around the edges does she still rot, at the seams of her. And across a foreleg, a gash remains, a glimpse of white bone beneath still stark.
It doesn’t hurt, this reversed birth, from grave to cradle – but the sensations are strange ones, the tickle of regenerating flesh, the warmth that comes as her bones grow covered.

She is a unique girl, but not entirely so – and ironic, then, that she should find her own type.
(Not entirely, though.)
She doesn’t know him for what he is, what she sees is a form, bumbling, tearing gross from the earth like a last meal. It’s a unique hunger and one that almost rings familiar, but this creature doesn’t rot, so she never thinks it might be dead.
“Hello!” she says, her voice bright. She is close, curious, a ghost-girl transpired through realms.
“My name is Graveling,” she continues, “what’s yours?”

.

graveling

the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out

[Noctem]

Noctem

there are nights
when the wolves are silent
and only the Moon howls

Sharp bright, vibrant green swallowed all of my senses as I sorted out how lips and teeth and tongue worked together to feed. So many sensations, the texture and the intricacies of flavor, the scent of the freshly torn blades, and that brilliant green I was quickly coming to love. Ears weren't a major part of the process, aside from the lovely tearing sound as a mouthful came free, the grinding-gnashing sound of chewing, the...the rustle of grass nearby, the rhythmic thudding of...oh! "Hello!" said a voice quite nearby, and my head jerked up of its own accord. A girl. Hello. I looked around, trying to see who she was talking to before I remembered. I was in a body. She could see me.

"Hello." It was the first word I'd spoken to anyone who wasn't family. Or, well, dead. I...I could talk to people. And be heard, and seen, and felt as more than a shiver of cold or hair standing on end. A fluttering sensation in my belly, oh, was that nervous? Shy? "I'm Noctem," I added, feeling the weight of her curious gaze on my skin. Definitely nervous, but flavored heavily with excitement. Oh, to be seen! "It's nice to meet you." My lips stretched into a grin, all on their own, and wasn't that a lovely feeling? Life was all kinds of fluttering so far.

Oh! Thank you eyes, yes. Her leg, I didn't think bones were supposed to show through. Still, she didn't seem in pain, she wasn't writhing or screaming or obviously suffering. Mmmaybe some bodies were just like that! Still, probably better to ask, right? "Are you alright? That looks like it hurts something awful." Or like it should, anyhow.

[graveling]

She had watched history unfold before her, while she existed in a state of being and non-being alike. It was not until the afterlife realm sprung into being that she took form, the child she’d never been (the thing left on the sands had been half-formed, stillborn). Gold, like her mother, though transparent – another spirit to walk the quiet sands.
But something shifted. Something about her was, in a way that was not there for the other ghosts and haunts.
A child of the ether, then – not dead, not alive.
Not alive until the ghost-king took her, passed her from spirit to flesh, sparked the reverse birth that led to a girl rotted dead, and now, a girl growing gold.

She cannot pinpoint the things flavoring his voice (it’s the newness of words, the wonder that creeps in them, writes itself upon the syllables, but she can’t put it into words, only recognize it like a song she once knew). He tells her his name, breaks into a smile, once she returns, enjoying the solidity of her lips and that the flesh remains whole.
“Nice to meet you too, Noctem.”

The eyes drop to her leg, to the glimpse of white there. She shifts a little, and tendon click against it. He asks after her injury. Truth be told, she doesn’t feel any pain from it – has never felt. Is unsure she has the capacity to.
“It doesn’t, though,” she says, a little unsure, “it’s getting better. A lot of me was like that for a while.”

.

graveling

the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out