Deep in the Woods, Sunday Evening

Warren still hadn't gone back to his room.

Yesterday, when the embrace of the taint had fled his mind, he'd fled in turn, to the woods. He felt like a monster, looked like a monster. He'd hurt his friends and had nearly killed Karla, and when he found himself in his right mind, still covered in leather and jagged edges, he'd run. He wasn't up for facing anybody.

And now, the worst of it was retreating. The long, whiplike tail that he'd used as a weapon yesterday was shorter, and putting his hands to his face told him that, even if he was still that nightmare shade of grey, at least his face was the right shape again. That was... promising.

It didn't change anything that had happened. But it was promising.

Maybe in a few days, he'd feel better about possibly coming out of the tree that he was hiding in. He was less likely to be found up there, was the thing. He blended in well enough with his surroundings, if nobody bothered looking too hard into the treetops. And, while it was quiet, it wasn't that unsettling sound of death and emptiness that had been devouring the island all week.

[Expecting one, but open for anyone to trip over him if they have some reason to be wandering the woods and looking up. SP-ish warning in effect, since I'm also doing homework, so much homework.]

Deep in the Woods, Sunday Evening

Warren still hadn't gone back to his room.

Yesterday, when the embrace of the taint had fled his mind, he'd fled in turn, to the woods. He felt like a monster, looked like a monster. He'd hurt his friends and had nearly killed Karla, and when he found himself in his right mind, still covered in leather and jagged edges, he'd run. He wasn't up for facing anybody.

And now, the worst of it was retreating. The long, whiplike tail that he'd used as a weapon yesterday was shorter, and putting his hands to his face told him that, even if he was still that nightmare shade of grey, at least his face was the right shape again. That was... promising.

It didn't change anything that had happened. But it was promising.

Maybe in a few days, he'd feel better about possibly coming out of the tree that he was hiding in. He was less likely to be found up there, was the thing. He blended in well enough with his surroundings, if nobody bothered looking too hard into the treetops. And, while it was quiet, it wasn't that unsettling sound of death and emptiness that had been devouring the island all week.

[Expecting one, but open for anyone to trip over him if they have some reason to be wandering the woods and looking up. SP-ish warning in effect, since I'm also doing homework, so much homework.]