(no subject)
Each change came in unexpected spurts, spread out over time. Initially there had been the sense of someone watching, some benign yet persistent outside force with a constant glaring eye observing his every move. In time, Serph had lost the ability to dismiss it as paranoia or a ridiculous bit of nonsense. It became very real. Sleep would not come. How could he sleep knowing there was something out there watching the Embryon's leader? To dismiss it now would put the others in danger, yet he dared not tell them about it. Were they in on it? Perhaps they were thinking that there was no need for him in this brave new world. Thoughts like these circled his complex mind as the moon rose and fell again and again.
It certainly did not help that an aching pain in his jaw developed from something that could have easily been labeled a tooth-ache into something was unquestionably a problem in his bones. It felt as though his teeth no longer fit in his human mouth. The pain of his body as it did ... something to the bones of his mandible reverberated through his skull until it took started to ache, just above his white eyebrows. It was there, staring at himself in the mirror for the fifth time that day, he notices the change happening to his hair.
Usually a perfectly normal shade of light gray, Serph hair was blanching into a milk white. It was not the strand-by-strand random discovery of one or two instances of a disappointing sign of old age, but the spreading of some kind of bleach from the roots of every single hair on his body. Serph had counted. Being unable to find even one singular unaffected hair no matter how thoroughly he looked was the undeniable sign that this ... infection would not release him from its grasp.
For once, Serph was at a complete loss. He knew one person who might hold an answer, but he could not ask for her help. As time passed, Serph chose not to involve the other members of the Embryon. His last encounter with Argilla and Heat had shown that they too were becoming something 'other', and would have no more answers than he. It would be pointless to seek out Gale's exemplary scientific mind; if he knew anything, he would have shared it. Or so Serph hoped to think still held true despite everything.
When the joint in his arm felt as though they were ripping and spreading, the thought of Varna being changed as well spread a fear unlike any other rippling over his pale skin. It took weeks to decide. Weeks of careful planning and consideration to find a place, and fail-safes to test what was happening to his Atma. Serph sought the most isolated place available, and transformed into his demonic form.
The pain was wretched. What normally took seconds seemed to take a full hour, yet that was an illusion of perception. His skin burned with cold, as though each of his cells were being stopped from movement and then prodded violently to become something foreign. His mouth cracked in an unnatural way even for this blasphemous transformation. He could feel hardened tissue inside the folds of his arms, bone or some sort of cartilage mass, he couldn't focus enough to tell. His mind screamed in hunger, a ceaseless repeat of the familiar refrain to devour, devour, devour all!
A day later, Serph was still forced to massage his feet and arms for relief from the pain. Drugs were simply not an option, it was unknowable what effect they could have. Sleep itself was no sanctuary; his dreams were filled with the taste of meat, the gnawing craving to rip and chew the thick flesh of anything set before Varna's blank eyes. One night, it became necessary to tie himself down as best as possible to prevent the partial transformation of his hands. They tore at himself and the bed without reason, without control.
A month passed again, or so he assumed, having not left his apartment for some time. It was now he was grateful to his past self for not having injected Gale's solution to their hungry little problem. He had kept every dose, but had converted them into bullets should a day ever come...strange that that day was today, and the enemy was himself. It was the only way to quell his raging hunger. After a time, as was inevitable... he ran out. Fearful of what would happen should two Atma in the same condition espy each other, he could not go to Gale for more. He wondered vaguely what was happening to them. It was a strange sensation, to be so far from them in this crisis. Truly, it was the first time in his life that he had felt so alone.
Eventually, Serph had no choice. The pain and hunger tore at his mind and body. It was hunt, or lose control. He sought an isolated world, one that bore the brunt of a senseless war, and became a weapon of God to the history of that place. The events of that day were shockingly brutal even to those who had been at war for decades. A monster, a demon emerged from the depths of Hell ripped apart all who stood in his path regardless of race or alliance. When it left, as they prayed with all combined might, there was little but a river of filthy blood and chunks of discarded human meat left on the battlefield.
Satisfied for a time, Serph slept. At last. He had not had such a comfortable, warm and full sleep for months. The disappointment that such a feeling could not last stayed for the next few days. Thinking on that emotion, he realized that his thoughts were sluggish. They came slowly, only after a great deal of effort. In a somewhat panicked state, Serph attempted to recite mathematical problems, and found the answers eluded him.
Another month passed, and Serph could barely move. His body was weak from the onslaught of change, and his mind could only circle around the recurring physical sensations of pain and hunger. In time, there was nothing that could stop what would happen next. Not one hope for salvation remained in Serph's mind. When Varna came to him one last time, he could no longer resist.
A starving beast roared with triumph, now free to take its fill! The echo of Varna's scream heralded his arrival to the place it knew would offer hundreds of meals: The Nexus.
It certainly did not help that an aching pain in his jaw developed from something that could have easily been labeled a tooth-ache into something was unquestionably a problem in his bones. It felt as though his teeth no longer fit in his human mouth. The pain of his body as it did ... something to the bones of his mandible reverberated through his skull until it took started to ache, just above his white eyebrows. It was there, staring at himself in the mirror for the fifth time that day, he notices the change happening to his hair.
Usually a perfectly normal shade of light gray, Serph hair was blanching into a milk white. It was not the strand-by-strand random discovery of one or two instances of a disappointing sign of old age, but the spreading of some kind of bleach from the roots of every single hair on his body. Serph had counted. Being unable to find even one singular unaffected hair no matter how thoroughly he looked was the undeniable sign that this ... infection would not release him from its grasp.
For once, Serph was at a complete loss. He knew one person who might hold an answer, but he could not ask for her help. As time passed, Serph chose not to involve the other members of the Embryon. His last encounter with Argilla and Heat had shown that they too were becoming something 'other', and would have no more answers than he. It would be pointless to seek out Gale's exemplary scientific mind; if he knew anything, he would have shared it. Or so Serph hoped to think still held true despite everything.
When the joint in his arm felt as though they were ripping and spreading, the thought of Varna being changed as well spread a fear unlike any other rippling over his pale skin. It took weeks to decide. Weeks of careful planning and consideration to find a place, and fail-safes to test what was happening to his Atma. Serph sought the most isolated place available, and transformed into his demonic form.
The pain was wretched. What normally took seconds seemed to take a full hour, yet that was an illusion of perception. His skin burned with cold, as though each of his cells were being stopped from movement and then prodded violently to become something foreign. His mouth cracked in an unnatural way even for this blasphemous transformation. He could feel hardened tissue inside the folds of his arms, bone or some sort of cartilage mass, he couldn't focus enough to tell. His mind screamed in hunger, a ceaseless repeat of the familiar refrain to devour, devour, devour all!
A day later, Serph was still forced to massage his feet and arms for relief from the pain. Drugs were simply not an option, it was unknowable what effect they could have. Sleep itself was no sanctuary; his dreams were filled with the taste of meat, the gnawing craving to rip and chew the thick flesh of anything set before Varna's blank eyes. One night, it became necessary to tie himself down as best as possible to prevent the partial transformation of his hands. They tore at himself and the bed without reason, without control.
A month passed again, or so he assumed, having not left his apartment for some time. It was now he was grateful to his past self for not having injected Gale's solution to their hungry little problem. He had kept every dose, but had converted them into bullets should a day ever come...strange that that day was today, and the enemy was himself. It was the only way to quell his raging hunger. After a time, as was inevitable... he ran out. Fearful of what would happen should two Atma in the same condition espy each other, he could not go to Gale for more. He wondered vaguely what was happening to them. It was a strange sensation, to be so far from them in this crisis. Truly, it was the first time in his life that he had felt so alone.
Eventually, Serph had no choice. The pain and hunger tore at his mind and body. It was hunt, or lose control. He sought an isolated world, one that bore the brunt of a senseless war, and became a weapon of God to the history of that place. The events of that day were shockingly brutal even to those who had been at war for decades. A monster, a demon emerged from the depths of Hell ripped apart all who stood in his path regardless of race or alliance. When it left, as they prayed with all combined might, there was little but a river of filthy blood and chunks of discarded human meat left on the battlefield.
Satisfied for a time, Serph slept. At last. He had not had such a comfortable, warm and full sleep for months. The disappointment that such a feeling could not last stayed for the next few days. Thinking on that emotion, he realized that his thoughts were sluggish. They came slowly, only after a great deal of effort. In a somewhat panicked state, Serph attempted to recite mathematical problems, and found the answers eluded him.
Another month passed, and Serph could barely move. His body was weak from the onslaught of change, and his mind could only circle around the recurring physical sensations of pain and hunger. In time, there was nothing that could stop what would happen next. Not one hope for salvation remained in Serph's mind. When Varna came to him one last time, he could no longer resist.
A starving beast roared with triumph, now free to take its fill! The echo of Varna's scream heralded his arrival to the place it knew would offer hundreds of meals: The Nexus.