When he eventually came to consciousness, it was not in the place he’d been left– nor the body he had then occupied. Rather, it appeared yet another shift had overcome him on account of the oddity which swept relentlessly through the city. And yet, for all the care Bill paid…a body was but a body– a means to an end. Although he was shortly discovering that without the efforts intended to take care of it, like all tools…it began to rust.
“What the–” An arm lifted where he lay with intent to shield his eyes from the sun, cheek cushioned by a pleasantly verdant plot of grass. Only, tender and harmless pastures were not the only force of nature to pervade his immediate surroundings– a truth he became privy to mere moments to come.
Any efforts made to rise were stayed, golden hues falling to regard a devilish snare of branches winding their way about his form. So upon sight was his reaction immediate; limbs forgoing their weariness in attempts to free himself from trappings of roughly chiseled brambles and roots. And, in accompanying the sight, an inkling seated itself upon the edge of the inter-dimensional being’s subconscious which did reinforce the theory blossoming in his mind’s eye.
“M̦̮͖̏̕ᴏ̎̐̓ɴ́ͨͮ͆s̲̿ᴛ̭̩̺̿ͥ͑ᴇ̎̈ͨ̽ʀ̎̒̓ͣ̀ . How ᴅᴀʀ̶ᴇ you think you can do this to me.” Waspish with the weakness his human body did beget, the struggle to free himself to stand was by no means a meager effort. However, once he had it was with all the prior arrogance which applied to him; sheer stubbornness the only force which kept the demon from his knees.
“Show yourself!” This demand he issued to the dark, unwilling to abide such ill treatment without dispute. “I know you’re watching!”
Whips of wind kicked up the ghosts of summer, lapping at the grass and off into the dark did ride the dead leaves-- and with it, carried a laughter; deep and basso, brimming with gusto. It would be heard long before he did acquiesce such discourtesies. No, he would remain melded with the night, one of its children, the shadows, circling the one-eyed demon now caged in this fleshy bag of mortality. Well now, that was his mistake, wasn’t it? He poked, he prodded for results, and, according to his felled confidence contained in such a vulnerable thing, he received more than he had bargained for.
His creations had begun their work to lace their grasp about his form, hungry for his exhaustion. Bravado hadn’t a part to play when its foundations were toppling. Had it been what he expected? Had it been all he wanted? With humanity came its weaknesses, and there were enough with which to scribe a novel. Every seam to wear thin, to tear, it was known, and susceptible to the slightest nick.
What fun, to see the lowest of his like-minded acquaintance! Where, oh where, was his bluster now?
❝What’s the matter?❞ he paused at the young man’s back, looming with a glare to shame the moonlight, ❝And here I thought you were looking forward to the experience.❞
Before his voice could be sourced, he moved again. In the cover of black he remained, where the advantage was his, and his alone.
❝I’m merely entertaining your desire.❞
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