Little Dark Things
He was getting out and about a bit now, that was a good thing. Making short hops to other worlds on occasion, even, though that was rare. More common was leaving the castle grounds and going down into the town itself, or past the town to an out of the way bit of nature when the noise got to be too much.
That was where he was now, actually. Past the town, away from people...and it was a good thing.
Sora had Unbalanced again. He'd...hoped that coming out here, calming his mind, getting out in the sun where the sad, deep darkness of his thoughts wouldn't spiral him down into immobility for the third day in a row...he'd hoped it would help the tipping feeling.
It...hadn't. It really, really hadn't.
Sora had tipped anyway, his body creaking, bones and muscles cracking, tearing, falling apart and reforming into the tiny-but-deadly monster he carried inside of him, was a part of him. He'd become twisted, from new, malformed anatomy and the pain it brought with it, but he had held onto himself as best he could. He hadn't gone back to town. He'd stayed here, trying to force himself out of Anti-form, knowing that it wouldn't work, not when he Unbalanced like this. He had to let it run its course despite the pain...and now, despite the depression.
Perhaps with the depression.
In the running, he'd lost himself at last. The precious minutes of control that he could force over his own mind spiraled away, leaving Sora feral, golden, pupil-less eyes bright and Dark-covered skin wafting tendrils of the stuff like smoke. There were no Heartless here, however, and his prowling had done nothing more than wear him out from the constant agony of movement.
So for now, at least, he sat on his haunches, hiding from the sunlight under a tree as he sniffed almost lazily, a Dark Thing cat who had found no mouse to play with and kill.
Not yet, anyway.