What if foul legacies abyss corrosion wasent making us sick, but instead transforming us into an abyssal moth creature thing aswell, likeit starts out small, slight scales forming on your skin, nails growing a little bit sharper at a time, you know, all the features of foul legacy slowly starting to appear on you.
oh i like the way you think
you barely notice it at first- who would? it's wintertime, everyone's skin is dry and flaking, so your hands being a little rough and itchy is nothing out of the ordinary. you scratch at your skin without a second thought, putting on some lotion every night. but it doesn't go away, slowly spreading up to your wrists until the skin is cracked and bleeding. it's more annoying than anything, the cuts stinging whenever you soak them in water and catching on anything with even a bit of tug to it. you frown as you fill out paperwork, hands aching with every flick of your pen, Legacy curled up in his usual nest of blankets and pillows and snoozing the day away. you toss your pen down to scratch at your skin, nails raking lines against the dried mess and reopening a few of the cuts
your nails hit something hard and tough under your skin, and your blood runs cold
the tiny wounds in your hands have been hiding patches of night-dark chitin, metallic and brittle and still forming. you have to hold back a gasp of horror, but Legacy snaps awake anyways when the scent of your blood reaches him, immediately on his feet and beside you with a concerned whimper. the sight of your cracked skin draws a sharp yelp from him, gently cupping your hands in his and tracing around the edges with his claws. Foul Legacy's wings tremble, shaking as he pulls you into a desperate embrace. although you make no sound, you grip him back tightly, head swimming with fear and questions, questions about what's happening and why is it happening and how can you stop it
Legacy can only shrug helplessly, trying to soothe your cuts with tiny licks and wrapping you up in his arms
