[Rhys is pretty sure when he wakes up that this is not going to be his fondest memory of waking up on a beach. It says a lot about his life that he has multiple memories to choose from, but this one is definitely not shaping up to be a winner.
Especially when he feels like he's been dragged through a wood chipper, and it's too quiet in his head. Way too quiet. He should feel the ocean, the air, the radiant magic of the place around him, and instead, there's absolutely nothing. It's like being in the middle of an utterly silent blizzard, like being struck deaf.]
Well shit.
[He spits out sand and salt, and brushes more out of his long black hair as he pulls himself to his feet. He doesn't need his empathic senses to decide he doesn't like this place, anyway, and he shakes off a shiver. Time to head for the lights, he guesses...but very, very carefully.]
Two: Arrival.
[If people really believe that Rhys is a monster, he's a very agreeable one in general. He accepts all the gifts graciously because he needs them, absorbs every piece of information he can, and smiles politely at people because he really has no intention of eating them. He's used to not being human, he's just...not used to others realizing it. And now he might not be what he was before because all his powers are gone and...
Nope. He's just going to have a seat right now. He's done. He will be sitting down with all these weird pamphlets, and the collected bag of stuff people have given him with those stilted, frozen smiles, and try not to freak out while he makes sense of exactly what the hell is going on and how he's going to deal with growing fur where there was no fur before.]
Human flesh. Of course there's no gift baskets with that, right? I mean. This one's not a joke? [He tugs uneasily at his heavily pierced ear as he gazes around. Not that anyone is necessarily listening, but he likes talking to himself: he's compelling company, okay?]
It's an infection, isn't it? Some kind of infection.
Rhys | OC Witch
[Rhys is pretty sure when he wakes up that this is not going to be his fondest memory of waking up on a beach. It says a lot about his life that he has multiple memories to choose from, but this one is definitely not shaping up to be a winner.
Especially when he feels like he's been dragged through a wood chipper, and it's too quiet in his head. Way too quiet. He should feel the ocean, the air, the radiant magic of the place around him, and instead, there's absolutely nothing. It's like being in the middle of an utterly silent blizzard, like being struck deaf.]
Well shit.
[He spits out sand and salt, and brushes more out of his long black hair as he pulls himself to his feet. He doesn't need his empathic senses to decide he doesn't like this place, anyway, and he shakes off a shiver. Time to head for the lights, he guesses...but very, very carefully.]
Two: Arrival.
[If people really believe that Rhys is a monster, he's a very agreeable one in general. He accepts all the gifts graciously because he needs them, absorbs every piece of information he can, and smiles politely at people because he really has no intention of eating them. He's used to not being human, he's just...not used to others realizing it. And now he might not be what he was before because all his powers are gone and...
Nope. He's just going to have a seat right now. He's done. He will be sitting down with all these weird pamphlets, and the collected bag of stuff people have given him with those stilted, frozen smiles, and try not to freak out while he makes sense of exactly what the hell is going on and how he's going to deal with growing fur where there was no fur before.]
Human flesh. Of course there's no gift baskets with that, right? I mean. This one's not a joke? [He tugs uneasily at his heavily pierced ear as he gazes around. Not that anyone is necessarily listening, but he likes talking to himself: he's compelling company, okay?]
It's an infection, isn't it? Some kind of infection.