[Even the most stable of people couldn't be expected to handle what Gamzee's had to deal with for the past few weeks and come out of it calm and sane, and Gamzee has never been really anchored in reality as it is. A few days of being chased by wraiths, finding out he'd attacked his moirail and hurt him badly, and then a week of being terrorized by
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He had just gone to pick up some food from a storefront and was carrying it back to his nest now. It wasn't the hunting and foraging he was used to...but that seemed almost impossible here. Admittedly, the food here piqued his curiosity, so he nabbed a few boxed meals and individual fruits from the shop, empty as ever, bagged them up, and hauled his "catch" back homewards.
He recognizes Gamzee by his frame in the dimming light; the slouching stance and upright horns. Something about him doesn't sit well with him now. He can sense that something is off, but given their first meeting went more or less okay, save for his own incredible display of cultural ignorance, he extends at least a little bit of trust and goodwill.]
It's late. [His voice, low and docile, seems to just come from the aether, its owner only emerging a second later when he steps into the light peeking through the tall buildings.] Shouldn't Gamzee go home? Is Gamzee looking for something?
[Maybe he's upset. That doesn't sit well with him either, so he holds out a bag of strawberries to him. Maybe that'll help.]
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We're nocturnal, motherfucker. [His voice is soft, and he croons the words out, spinning a juggling club between his fingers before reaching out to pluck a strawberry from the bag.]
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[That grin makes him nervous. He can definitely tell something's amiss.]
Gamzee looks a little sick. Is there something upsetting him?
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[The last is barked, with a loud honking laugh, and then Gamzee does a thing ... hell, he's not even sure he knows how he's doing it, but he reaches out for the ribika's mind and-
Asato might be feeling a little funny himself now. A little warm. Like there's something wrong with his blood, as though it's heating up somehow, fizzing and popping with a dark need to change.]
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[He backs off when Gamzee shouts at him, ears perking up before laying low.]
I hope nothing's wrong. Gamzee just looks a little strange, you know? I don't mean anything bad by it...
[He laughs nervously, but his laugh trails to silence very soon. He feels a little feverish, a little nervous and more than a little angry. And hungry. So very hungry.
Something tugs at his brain then, something telling him that the solution is very simple. Rend. Tear. Kill. Feed.
He furrows his brows and coughs, taking a step back.]
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Something feels--bad, and-- [He groans and clutches his head when his vision tints red for a moment.]
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What feels bad? [asks in a soft, soft whisper, reaching out to lightly run his claws through Asato's hair as he twists again, wanting to hear the other male scream, howl, cry, anything, wanting to feel in control for just a few moments, wanting the hole to be gone, wanting to PUNISH MOTHERFUCKERS WHO DON'T RESPECT.]
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[He gives him a look that borders on pleading. Help me. Dear goddess it's happening, it's coming, it's here, they were right after all--he's so ravenous and goddess above someone please just help.
He sees teeth, like he's seen them before even when taking water from the river as a toddler, enormous sharp teeth and glistening tusks in a skull-like face, bright blue, glassy eyes glinting in deep-set sockets. It comes in flashes. It tears into people he thought he knew, he thinks. The cries come too sharply for him to really know who or what, but his mind fills in the blanks whether he wants it to or not, and when it flickers over the thought of his own mother, his expression goes blank, pupils drawn to slits.]
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What's all up in your head, bro? [croons] You got a monster all tastywarm curled up inside your nugbone, don't you?
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[But he isn't, and they both know it. How can he claim it isn't there when he can practically feel it yanking at its fetters now, snarling and twisting and so ready to be freed?] How do you know this? Why are you--Gamzee--[His breathing comes in wet, ragged gasps.]
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Shut up. [he glares at him, fangs exposed.] Shut up. Shut up.
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[He doesn't know what'll happen. That's the frightening part. He doesn't know if his mind will change, or his body will change, nor does he have any clue if he can ever go back.
It takes just that outburst for his control to lapse. His left hand swipes at the troll's face, claws drawn and dangerously sharp. He snarls, his fur standing on end, his body arched threateningly.]
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Is it starting? [he murmurs, his breath blowing arid and impossibly hot, like a desert wind whispering against the ribika's face]
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