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kumeko · 3 years

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A/N: For the Bound by Blood zine! I’ve always wanted to look at the darker side of Nezuko’s transformation, the blood lust and hunger barely controlled.

…

Nezuko knew of death, knew of the ways it could linger like a bad cough. She had watched as her father wasted away over the years, his body growing thinner and weaker until it was a kindness that he didn’t wake up one day. Her mother faded away from heartbreak, more a ghost than a person until the end. When death came for her, Nezuko had hoped it would be quick and painless.

Instead, it seemed death had a sense of humour. The attack was quick, her body falling to the ground before she could put everything together. It was only as she lay on the wooden floor, her blood pooling around her, that she’d even realized she’d been injured. Nezuko felt disconnected from her body, unable to scream as her mother and siblings fell around her, their bodies dropping one after another like broken dolls. Something, someonedarted between her family, killing them faster than she could blink. At the edges of her vision, flames licked the walls, turning her home into a pyre.

Something sharp pierced her skin and suddenly she felt everything: every cut, every bruise, every broken limb. A sharp, metallic smell flooded her nose and she could taste the blood on her lips. Her body burned as though poison ran through her veins and she screamed.

With what little of her consciousness was left, Nezuko prayed that Tanjirou wouldn’t return until long after the slaughter was over.

Nezuko knew nothing. Her eyes blinked open in a wooden structure, her brain slowly supplying her with the words to describe her surroundings. Every part of her body ached, but that sensation as quickly fading as she sniffed the air. An utterly delicious scent tickled her nose, a rusty, iron-filled smell that permeated on every surface of the house. Drool dripped off her lips as she realized she was surrounded by a feast.

A rotten feast. She didn’t have to touch the torn bodies strewn around her to notice that they weren’t fresh, that they were the remnants of another hunter. Even the blood beneath her hands was cold and thick to the touch. Instinctively, she knew it was a bad idea to drink that. Her stomach gurgled, starving, and she licked her lips as she stared at the body of a young boy.

She should go. A meal could be found elsewhere. Flames engulfed the vast majority of the house and even if she wanted to stay, she couldn’t. Still, it was a waste. An utter waste.

Her nose twitched and Nezuko turned toward the entrance to catch a new scent. It smelled faintly of charcoal and soap, an oddly familiar combination. Something about it, about this house and the bodies, jogged her memory. She knew the boy (and it was a boy, not yet a man) approaching the building.

Part of her wanted to reassure his panicked cries. A greater part of her inhaled the thick, iron-rich smell beneath his skin. His blood was still warm, still pumping, still sweet. Nezuko’s thoughts scattered as her hunger burned, and she attacked her first meal.

The boy’s hands were gentle. Nezuko learned that first, before she even learned his name. The boy’s hands were especially gentle now, as she rested on his lap, his fingers combing through her hair. She’d felt this sensation long ago, somewhere in the fogs of her memory, but if she lingered on the thought any further than that, her head would split in pain.

Instead, she leaned into his touch, grunting slightly.

“You always liked this,” the boy said, chuckling softly. Sadly. Seated on a tatami mat, he continued to stroke her hair.

“What sort of self-respecting demon does that?” Another boy said—a demon. With her right eye, she looked up, over the table where the demon boy shot her a disgusted look. “Especially a brute like her.”

“Nezuko is not a brute!” The boy—Tanjirou, his name was Tanjirou she remembered—growled back. Despite his tone, his hands remained gentle. “She is beautiful and kind and—”

“Right, right, got it.” The demon boy rolled his eyes.

“Yushiro.” The final occupant of the living room sighed. If the demon boy smelled faintly of blood, the woman was thick with it. “What did I say?”

“I didn’t—”

She cut him off. “Don’t insult our guests either, alright?”

“Nezuko is beautiful,” Tanjirou asserted a final time, his brow furrowed. When Nezuko returned her gaze to him, he beamed down at her. “Don’t listen to his lies.”

His words and actions always had a strange weight to them, a familiarity that she couldn’t understand. She wasn’t even sure if he was talking to her sometimes. The only thing she knew was that his hands were gentle, just as his voice was kind, just as his eyes were welcoming. Despite the steel in his posture whenever they faced danger, he did not look like a man who could fight. There was a streak of kindness to him, a streak that would kill him one day.

It could have killed him earlier, if she hadn’t stopped attacking him. Nezuko still didn’t know what had held her hand, only that it was a memory of similar tenderness.

“She is lovely,” the woman agreed. The aroma of blood intermingled with her scent throughout the house, just enough to keep Nezuko’s hunger at bay.

“Not as lovely as you,” the demon boy immediately replied, his chest puffed with pride. Turning his attention to Nezuko, he frowned. “So, she really doesn’t eat anyone?”

“Of course not.” Tanjirou resumed his ministrations. His movements were as steady as a stream. He looked from the demon boy to a demon woman, his gaze utterly confident. “Nezuko would never do that.”

She closed her eyes. That wasn’t right. She didn’t know why, but that wasn’t right. While his body was littered with wounds, the ones branded on his arm were from her claws. They were a warning, a reminder of what losing control meant.

Tanjirou didn’t realize that. Or maybe he didn’t understand that despite how much stronger he’d gotten, he was still quite weak. As he stroked her hair, she could feel the muscles in his hand, the delicate bones of his wrist. His skin was paper-thin and his muscles were nothing compared to hers.

It would be easy to reach up and snap his arm, to break it in two and devour his life-sustaining flesh. To sink her fangs into his neck and lap his warm, sugary-sweet blood.

As though reading her mind, the demon boy snorted. “That brute of a girl—”

“Yushiro!” the woman warned, an edge to her voice. “What did I just say?”

“I was—”

“One more and you will be kicked out.” She sighed, her shoulders sinking. “Anyway, that is really impressive. I have never heard of a demon doing that before. Even us—it might be a little blood, but we need it all the same.”

“That’s cause she’s Nezuko.” Tanjirou’s hand stilled and she opened her eyes to find him beaming down at her. “She’s a good girl.”

I’m not. Nezuko opened her mouth, but her broken vocal cords couldn’t do more than groan at the weight of her words.

(Months later, when she stood in the sun, Tanjirou scared that she’d disappear, Nezuko wasn’t afraid in the least. She’d already been burned. These rays were nothing compared to his warmth.)

The wind whistled, an oddly sharp sound that tugged on Nezuko’s consciousness. It ran through her hair and clothes, and dazed, she wondered if she had fallen asleep outside. Not only was it chilly, the cool night air hitting her skin painfully, it also wasn’t very respectable. What would the villagers think? Her bro—

Nezuko’s eyes opened before she could finish the thought, before she could grasp her identity. Dangling upside down in the treetops, her eyes widened as she remembered her predicament. They were in the mountains, surrounded by demons and desperate humans. One of the demons had trussed her up, his wires binding her limbs so tightly that she couldn’t move. Straining her muscles only made the wires dig in tighter, cutting into her skin until she bled.

The wires reverberated with each movement, giving off sharp twangs as they alerted the demon below her. Like a moth trapped in a web, she couldn’t escape, her movements only ensnaring her further.

“Oh, you’re awake,” the demon said. His hair and skin were as pale as the moon, his words as cold as the distant starlight. There was an idle curiosity in his eyes, but even that emotion was fleeting. “Just in time.”

“Nezuko!” Tanjirou grunted, his breathing strained as he struggled to get to his feet. Blood soaked his haori, red blooming on his chest like spider lilies. Rips and tears in his clothing revealed numerous cuts on his body, his injuries far more serious than he let on. “I’ll save you!”

He was injured. Nezuko’s eyes widened as she took in her boy, her prey. The rich, thick scent of his blood filled the air even as it pooled at his feet, yet it didn’t tempt her. For once her stomach roiled with anger, not hunger.

Tanjirou was wounded. She could hear how many bones were broken with every wheeze he took, hear just how many cuts he’d sustained with every grunt he made. Her blood burned and Nezuko growled as she struggled against the spider’s web, ignoring how the threads cut into her flesh. Her blood dripped down the wires, coating them a bright red.

“Don’t cut yourself too much,” the demon grumbled, clicking his tongue. It was the closest thing to an emotion he’d shown so far. “It’s too annoying putting you back together.”

“Leave her alone!” Tanjirou shouted, climbing to his feet only to fall once more. Nezuko heard his muscles strain, his heart trying to pump more and more blood to compensate for the loss.

“No.” The demon stalked forward, as silent as a predator. Lifting Tanjirou up by his mop of hair, the demon smirked. “She’ll be part of my family now. I need to replace the one you killed.”

“That’ll never happen,” Tanjirou swore through clenched teeth, his hands curling into a fist. A rare anger course through his voice. “That’s not what family is.”

Family.

Nezuko couldn’t follow the conversation. Just thinking about the word made her head hurt. She couldn’t understand the demon’s quiet insistence anymore that she could understand Tanjirou’s harsh rebuke. What she did understand, however, was that these overly complicated sounds they tossed at one another only meant one thing: the demon was going to separate Nezuko from Tanjirou.

No, the demon was going to remove Tanjirou from her. He was going to kill him.

Nezuko ground her teeth. Tanjirou was hers.

Like oil on flames, the fire within her burned even hotter at this. She couldn’t say what happened next, only that it felt like every part of her burned. Unable to bottle her rage, it exploded out of her, running down the wires before reaching her target.

The box was dark. Nezuko kept her eyes closed as she curled up inside it. Whether they were open or closed, she saw the same void. The only thing connecting her to the world was how the box moved, how Tanjirou jostled it as he moved from one place to another. There were other, muffled sounds outside, the sounds of strangers and of a pond. Nezuko never knew how to take these signs of the outside, of this world she almost never saw.

But the box had come to a stop now, and she opened her eyes, anticipating a release.

“NEZUKO!”

Tanjirou’s desperate scream was the only warning she got before a sword stabbed through the box, piercing her belly. Nezuko gasped, the restraint in her mouth muting her scream. Paralyzed in pain, she couldn’t react before the sword withdrew and speared her once more, plunging into her chest now. Blood invaded her lungs, and though she didn’t need to breathe, she choked on it all the same.

“Nezuko!” Tanjirou yelled once more.

His kind hands were nowhere to be found. Instead, all Nezuko could feel were the firm, wooden panels of her prison, and above it all, the piercing pain of her injuries. She wanted to call out his name, to bury her head in his arms. Nezuko needed comfort.

Instead, she was hit with drops of warm blood, dripping in through the holes in the box.

“Taste this!” challenged a stranger, a man who smelled like a gale and sounded like a hurricane. He shook the box, knocking her side to side before dripping more blood in. “I know you want to!”

With a soft plop, the blood hit her forehead before slowly sliding down her face. Nezuko shivered at the warm sensation. Her skin was cold. Always so cold. She craned her head up slightly, allowing the droplets better access as they hit her skin like pebbles, painting her skin as red as a woman’s lips. No matter how much she shifted, though, the droplets never slid into her mouth. No, they dripped past, splattering her clothes.

Unceremoniously, the box was tossed to the ground, the impact jolting her injuries. Nezuko curled tighter into herself, not sure when another sword would sink into her skin.

“Get out!” the stranger ordered, kicking the box for good measure.

For a long moment, she stayed still. Muffled as it was, she could faintly hear Tanjirou struggling to reach her. His breathing was strained again, his heart beating all too fast, and she could smell the sickly-sweet scent of sweat as he struggled to reach her. Nezuko remembered the white demon and pushed the box open, not caring if there was sunlight or moonlight on the other side.

She found neither when she poked her head out, only the cool shade of yet another house. This one was filled with people, and her hackles raised at their hostile stares. Under the sun, just out of reach, was Tanjirou, his face pressed to the ground.

A growl escaped her lips automatically.

“Hungry yet?” the stranger asked as he stood before her. Despite his tense stance, his eyes were full of anticipation as he flicked blood at her. He dangled his arm in front of her, red rivulets running down his skin and splashing on the floor. “Come on, take a bite.”

He wanted her to attack. He was downright eager for it. The others were too, Nezuko dimly realized, as their scents warped, hostility changing into something darker.

“Nezuko, don’t!” Tanjirou cried, but it was hard to hear his voice.

It was hard to pay attention to anything but the red dripping down her skin, to the wounds on her body aching for healing. His scent was entirely unlike Tanjirou’s—bitter instead of sweet, sharp instead of soft. Saliva dripped down her mouth either way. There was a hunger within her she hadn’t filled, a hunger that she had ignored for years now.

A single taste could fix that.

A single taste would fix that.

Her tongue ran over her teeth in anticipation. The man’s lips tugged into a sharp smile.

With as much force as she could muster, Nezuko turned away, rejecting the scent before her. She had waited this long, she could wait a little longer.

There was no way this man’s blood could be nearly as delicious or tempting as Tanjirou’s.

The world was burning.

No, that wasn’t quite right. Despite the fires roaring around her, the smoke and ash lying on her tongue, the world wasn’t burning. Just this small town, this small district. Just a few dozen people who couldn’t escape the wreckage. People trapped just as she was, stuck under the rubble of a broken inn.

Nezuko clawed at the earth, trying to drag herself out of the rubble. Her head rattled from her injuries, her body aching from the fight. It seemed the only reason she left her box these days was to fight. The house, the mountain, this town—wherever she woke up, there were demons.

And the boy, Tanjirou, had dedicated himself to fighting them.

One day, he would die that way. But that day wasn’t today. Nezuko grunted as she pulled herself forward, ignoring the blazing pain where her leg and arms used to be. She couldn’t, wouldn’t lose him. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see him, couldn’t smell him—his charcoal scent was hidden in the ash,

“You should just give up, you don’t have the energy to regenerate,” her enemy stated confidently, her perfume coiling around her like a snake. Despite their fight, her make-up remained unsmudged, her painted lips as bright as blood. No matter how many floral scents she hid under, the stench of death clung to her like a second skin.

Nezuko gritted her teeth as she stared at the demon. This woman had injured Tanjirou. She had wounded this whole town, burning it to the ground with a smile. Her mind flashed to a different, kinder woman, to a gaggle of kids who tugged on her hands. To Tanjirou, who smiled despite the spectre of death lingering over him.

She thought of all of that and her limbs began to burn.

Unaware of this, the demon winked at her, her lips curled into a sly smirk. “If only you’d drunk some blood. Come back in a hundred years.”

The fire within her grew into an inferno, and Nezuko only had to think and her limbs regrew near instantly. Forcing herself to stand, she spit out her wooden restraint.

The demon stepped back, shocked. “How? That’s impossible!”

Nezuko growled, her blood boiling as she attacked.

Nezuko knew one thing: Tanjirou loved her. Her brother had moved the sun and moon to save her, to transform her from monster to human. Whether it was watching out for her, protecting her, or simply giving her a hug, Tanjirou had done more than any person should have.

That was the only reason he was standing in front of her now, his eyes almost glowing as he took her in. Saliva dripped down his chin and Nezuko had a feeling of deja vu at the sight. She’d had that same look years ago, when she’d first turned into a demon. Had that blinding madness run through her mind, making it hard for her to be reasoned with until Tanjirou had pulled her out of the darkness.

And now, he’d fallen into that darkness. Her sight grew blurry as she took in her demonic brother. This wasn’t how their reunion was supposed to go at all. “Tanjirou…”

He snarled, though she couldn’t say if that was a reaction to the name or her movement.

“You love me,” she reminded him, swallowing hard. She didn’t know if she was talking to him or herself, only that it was true. Her brother, however deep he slept inside, loved her. He just had to remember that.

It was hard to break out of a demon’s spell, but he could do it.

“Tanjirou—” Before Nezuko could finish, his fangs were buried in her neck, his claws digging into her arms. Dimly, she recalled being in the opposite position years go, His arms were still littered with scars. She wondered if hers would remain too. Her blood smeared her neck, hot and thick, and she wondered if she tasted as sweet as she’d imagined Tanjirou had.

Reaching up, she wrapped an arm around his back. “Don’t!”

He was possessed, she reminded herself. That didn’t make the betrayal heart any less when his teeth dug in deeper.

But she could endure. If there was one thing Nezuko knew, it was how to endure. How to survive. And how to make sure her brother made it with her. He was kind, after all, too kind, otherwise, his eyes wouldn’t be filling with tears right now.

One day, that kindness would kill him.

But that day wasn’t today. Nezuko would make sure of it.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #nezuko kamado #kamado tanjirō #demon slayer #yushiro #fanfic

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

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Humans are Weird “Keep them Warm”

Hey guys, Hope you are having a great week. This one is gonna be both awkward and funny hopefully. It was given to me as a prompt idea from one of my readers, and I hope they enjoy it as well. It involves a new alien species that I think you all might be interested in. I would suggest taking a look :)

“So you’re telling me we found another sentient omnivore species.” The commander grunted ripping his boot from a watery patch of mud and nearly crashing into the swampy water between two twisted tree roots.

Sunny reached out with one of her four armored arms, and caught him by the back of his pack pulling him back upright. He nodded a thanks to her and adjusted his gear. Behind her Ramirez ducked under a low hanging branch slogging through a pool of knee-high water, adjusting the containment pod, holding Krill more comfortably over both shoulders.

Krill, comfortable and warm inside his containment pod, watched the marines, scientists, and a linguist struggle through the mud under a covering of impossibly tall twisted trees their canopy blocking out all light that might have dared cut downwards towards the watery floor below. “Not entirely sentient, I suppose.” Krill answered , “Unfortunately the way in which they communicate is going to drastically reduce their ability to create complex structures and perform mathematical equations.”

Together they maneuvered themselves over a root, which at some point in the distant past, had decided to grow upwards instead of down. At about four feet high, it had changed its mind and arched back down into the water. Perhaps it had been smaller then, but at four feet wide, the root was an absolute monstrosity now.

The trees themselves were massive, challenging, and sometimes outgrowing the legendary redwood forests of the western Americas, but unlike the redwoods, these trees didn’t stand tall and proud. Instead, they chose a twisted path much like the branching veins which made up a human vascular system. They twisted and undulated interlocking past each other with branches that were well over two feet wide in many cases,and stretching to over four feet wide in others. No one direction was good enough, and the trees twisted ducked swirleded and reached grasping for any sort of light to be found.

On top of the darkness cast by the trees and the soggy nature of the forest floor, it was also horribly hot and humid giving the impression of a microwaved wet blanket thrown over the world. Where heat from the upper canopy met the cooler air of deep forest pools, it created a perpetually thick mist which writhed and undulated through the trees, leaving only the shadowy impressions of twisted trunks and clawing branches past distances greater than 50 feet.

“They communicate primarily through pheromones and heat modulation. From what I understand, the language in itself isn’t precise, and really only works in generalities and feelings than it does in absolutes.”

Commander Vir kicked a rotting log out of the way ducking as a massive green bug buzzed over his head and into the fog. Turns out the hotter and more humid a planet gets, the bigger the bugs get, “But we were still able to communicate with them.

KRill nodded from inside his case, “Yes, generally speaking.For a species that cannot communicate in absolutes, I hear they are quite reasonable. They seem willing to accept our friendship, and have….. invited, I guess, us to participate in some sort of primitive ritual.”

The commander nodded scrambling over another tree branch, “Alright, so….. where are these things anyway.” His boots hit solid ground, covered in some sort of wet spongy fungus and glanced down at his GPS. Behind him the other marines went silent heads lifted towards the sky in shock.

“Fuck me.” ONe of the marines whispered scrambling back behind a tree root.

Commander Vir turned and nearly fell into the water again eyes locked onto the creatures descending from high above.

They were huge, about the size of large horses, and horrifically spider like in their construction, or perhaps an ant. They had large-scale abdomens connected to a thinner thorax. All together they had ten appendages, three pairs of spider-like legs on the abdomen which, instead of ending in a pod or foot, ended in a sharp pointed spike. On the abdomen, they had two arm-like appendages, with two many joints and strange waves tentacles instead of fingers

The head was just as disconcerting. It seemed too large for the body, grossly out of proportion and strangely out of place, like some cosmic sentience had used a random animal generator to assign parts to its body. The head was wolflike, if you were to strip the skin and fur away leaving only the muscle underneath. You could see the line of teeth running up either side of the muzzle while the large red-pink ears rotated continuously.

Commander Vir had backed himself into the bowl of a tree eyes wide. Sunny slogged herself up from the water placing herself between the strange spidery creatures and the human.

They didn’t descend like a spider might, on threads of silk, but they used their back six feet, and the spikes on the end to dig into the bark of the trees with a disconcerting thud thud thud thu.

FInally the largest of the creatures reached the ground surprisingly silent for it’s massive bulk.

Glancing around Sunny’s tensed body, he noticed something he hadn’t before, and that was a strange small mass gripping onto the spidery creature’s underbelly. Upon closer inspection he counted ten legs and a surprisingly spidery head buried against its underside….. a completely separate creature holding on to it’s companion.

Behind the largest creature, he noted ANOTHER type of creature. It boasted the same sort of structure as the large creature, but its abdomen was devoid of scales, and covered in strange black bulbs suctioned onto its body by way of a strange, sticky black-green webbing. It’s head was also constructed differently more like a lizard than a wolf, with large bulbous eyes that could rotated behind it’s own head to look in all directions.

Commander Vir fiddled nervously with the advanced translation headset he wore strapped to his helmet, supposedly it was supposed to be able to understand what these things were saying.

“Sky….. friends.” The translation was somewhat garbled, but he understood it was the large wolf-head who spoke.

He walked forward, pushing Sunny gently to the side despite her clear reluctance, “Yes, we are friends, and we are here to offer peace to you, and the assistance of the Galactic Assembly.” He wasn’t entirely sure how that was going to translate over in smell, but the creature seemed happy lifting it’s head and gnashing it’s large K-9 teeth.

“Agreement….. for a favor.”

Commander Vir grew unsure then letting off a reluctant, “What favor.”

The spidery shape moved closer sniffing at him with it’s large wolffish nose. Sunny stiffened at his side, and he put a hand on her arm to calm her.

“Ritual…. you help.”

“None of us will get hurt ... will we?”

The creature stopped and pondered the question for a long moment, “No danger….. live ... healthy ... happy.”

Commander Vir nodded slowly, “Alright, what do we have to do?”

The creature hefted it’s large bulk, and turned in the opposite direction, “Follow.” It commanded scuttling off into the trees.

***

“This is very interesting.” Krill was saying to one of the accompanying scientists, who nodded vigorously in agreement.

“What’s so interesting.” Commander Vir whispered from where he stood at the edge of yet another, but larger fungus covered clearing, watching as the creatures scuttle back and forth.

The scientist learned in in excitement, “It seems that these creatures have a ternary gender system.” Before the commander could ask, the scientist continued, “For ease of speech, the large ones are the females, and those things on their bellies are probably the males. The medium ones are the third gender, the ‘they’ if you will. It looks like the male impregnates the female who then attaches the eggs to the third party. Dr. Krill tells me that the third party have a very high heat signature probably to incubate the young. Those attachments probably provide nutrients into the egg and may even transfer DNA over as well.”

“WOw…. freaky.” The commander muttered in fascination.

“Kind of gross if you ask me.” Sunny muttered.

“I’m with her.” Ramirez muttered receiving a few nods from the other marines.

“Oh please.” Krill whispered, “I know what human reproduction is like, and it’s arguable way worse.”

The scientist waved them all off, “The big one there, the one that’s been talking to us. I think she’s the queen, and judging from those egg sacks, this is probably mating season, if they have one.”

“Creepy, but cool, I guess.” The captain muttered.

They watched for a little longer as the queen scuttled around the clearing and then return to look at them lowering her meaty wolffish head to the Commander’s eyes level. “Ritual ... find…. eggkeeper.” SHe scuttled away

“Oh….. this is some sort of? Mating ritual maybe….. to choose that third party you were talking about.”

“This isn’t exactly the kind of “Mating ritual” I wanted to see.” One of the marines muttered. The other marines turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. Sunny stuck her tongue out in disgust.

Off in the clearing, some of the smaller females had moved themselves onto the high branches scuttling through the trees to examine the “they” who waited patiently. It appeared that side was very important in the ritual, as they all fought for the largest counterpart. Once found, the wolffish head would lower, and open up to reveal a tube under the tongue. From there she would…. disgorge the egg onto the abdomen of the ‘they’ and the mucus would solidify to hold them on.

“It has to do with size.” Krill hissed, “But it seems that it has more to do with heat. The big ones only get chosen more because they also happen to be warmer than the smaller ones. I’d say they incubate at an average of 90 degrees.”

They watched this for a while, the scientists taking notes and the marines making inappropriate jokes.

Eventually most of the creatures had finished leaving only the queen left over. Everything went still when she began to move, and she scuttled around the clearing looking over all the available ‘theys’ she could find, but she just didn’t seem satisfied.

Commander Vir tugged at the collar of his jacket, a line of sweat dripping down his face.

She continued her circuit once and then twice, at some point she turned her head large eyes locking on the humans. She sniffed at them.

The human laughter died as she advanced.

“What is she doing.” The commander muttered under his breath

The scientist that stood next to him hidden partially behind Sunny, “I…. I’m not sure.”

She scuttled even closer, and the humans backed away.

“Hey doc…. didn’t you say something about….. them being attracted to heat.” Ramirez wondered hiding himself behind a root.

“Yeah….. I did, why.”

“Not to freak anyone out or anything but….. isn’t average human heat about 98.6….”

What followed was a rather violent game of nose goes, but instead of involving touching ones nose to see who was the last person standing, it involved a mad rush to reduce body heat. The smartest marines took the initiative and dove into the water beside the clearing. Completely submerging themselves under the surface. Others chose to cover whatever exposed skin they might have in mud as if to mask the heat. Still others chose to cut and run.

Unfortunately, with his position at the head of the group, Commander Vir wasn’t fast enough.

She came at him in a scuttling rush, and in a frantic leap to get away, his boot caught on a root and he hit the ground hard. Sunny tried to leap in front of him, but was bowled over by the mad rushing form.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Commander vir repeated scuttling backwards across the ground as the large spidery shape loomed over him.

He stopped dead in his tracks backed against a tree root. She leaned closer.

He raised his hands above his head blocking his face, “Please don’t lay your eggs in me. Please don’t lay your eggs in me.”

She reached out one of her forward hands surprisingly delicate as she cut through the first layers of his jacket, and shirt. THey fell away in slices revealing the pale human skin underneath red and sticky with the tropical heat. His chest and abdomen heaved with his breath as he tried to scramble away, but she caught him with the prong of one of her back legs pinning him in place.

“Fuck…. Help…. HELP.”

Sunny wasn’t fast enough, having been tipped head over heels into the water, with the rest of the marines in similar positions, Krill contained inside his tube unable to help but unable to look away.

She lowered her head, and the man screamed. It was cold, gelatinous and slimy at first, but even as it touched open air, he could feel it fusing against his skin solidifying. He thrashed and wriggled, but she was far to strong holding him in place. Finally though, she backed away leaving him panting on the ground shaking and trembling leg throbbing where he had been pinned.

She leaned her head down to examine him, “Warm.”

THey locked eyes, “Friends…. now…. Keep them….. warm.”

SHe retreated, and he struggled to his knees turning to look down at his body which was now partially obscured by a sticky pod of six black eggs pulled tight against his skin. His hand were shaking as he reached down to touch them, cold and smooth. HE tried tugging on one, but nearly fainted at the pain it caused against his skin.

They were withdrawing back into the trees leaving him kneeling on the fungus hands trembling as looked downwards.

Sunny was the first to recover scrambling out of the water and over to him, placing a hand on his back as she examined the strange eggs attached to his skin, “Mother of-“

THe marines cut her off as they came wriggling from the trees, “Commander, Commander are you ok….” One of the marines cut around front frozen in his tracks eyes wide once he saw, “WHAT THE HELL!”\

Sunny reached out as if to tug on one of them, “NO!” He snapped jerking away from her.

The others gathered around to look with exclamations of shock and disgust. The commander looked up at Sunny pleadingly. She decided to take charge, helping him to his feet and then pulling him into her arms, “We have to get him back to the ship, let's move, NOW!”

***

“What do you think, Dr.”

Dr Katie examined the scan with a frown, “It’s very, very strange, that’s for sure.”

Commander VIr lifted his head to look down at them, “Well what the HELL does that mean.”

Krill shoved his head back onto the table, “Stay still.”

Dr. Katie hummed softly as she continued to examine the scans, “It looks like these little filaments have breached the skin ... and…. well at least one of them has made it to your liver, this one here has made it to your lungs.”

“What about white blood count.” Krill wondered, “THe body must have noticed something by now?”

Dr Katie shook her head, “Nothing, the body seems to have accepted it. I took some samples and….. well I think I might know why.” She rolled herself to the side in her chair and over to one of the adjoining computers, “See this, this is his DNA ...and this is the DNA of the strands.”

Krill pearled over her shoulder, “What the….. they look almost identical.”

“Yes…. I don’t think the body knows anything is wrong.” She turned her chair back around to look at the Commander, “Congratulations Commander, you are perhaps, in the weirdest way possible, the only man in the history of existence who might just experience the miracle of life.”

The look on his face made it clear he wasn’t interested in being congratulated, “What the actual fuck does that mean?” He snapped

Dr. Katie rolled closer, “Well, to explain in terms you may understand. You are doing more than keeping them warm. Those filaments that you saw are acting like umbilical cords. The one at your liver is using it as a filter, and to take in nutrients as it seems to have branching filaments to the stomach and intestines. The one going to your lungs is taking in carbon…… not sure what that’s going to do to your breathing if anything. But at this point I don’t think that even Dr. Krill, as good as he can remove them. We would have to remove too much of your internal structure to it to be viable, plus they don’t seem to be hurting you.”

“Not hurting me! NOT HURTING ME! You said it yourself they are SUCKING OUT MY VITAL JUICES.”

Dr. Katie shrugged, “Welcome to pregnancy….. sort of. Look we will monitor you, make sure they aren’t sucking away to many nutrients. Look on the bright side, you can probably eat more, and judging form an analysis of the egg sacks, the average gestational period is only around two months.”

“TWO MONTHS!”

Sunny, who had been standing next to the man at the head of the exam table, couldn’t suppress a short chirp of laughter.

He glowered at her, “What’s so funny!”

She chirped again placing a hand on his arm, “You’re gonna be a mom.”

If looks could kill, shed be reduced to a singularity, “Get your hand off me or ill break it in half!”

She continued chirping, but removed her hand just in case.

This was going to be a very awkward call to the UNSC and the GA.

For that matter, it was going to be a very awkward call home.

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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knoughtwright · 4 years

Text

Tatterdemalion Ch. 8: Weaver

(A couple notes: The previous chapter ended on a cliffhanger and that was... a while ago, so if you’ve been following along you might want to reread the previous chapter before starting this one. Second, I’ve painted myself into a bit of a corner where I’m unenthusiastic about any of the possible ways to move the story forward, so there might not be any more after this.)

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter

When I asked Anpiel what a weaver was, it told me “A spider which has made its web in the hole left by the death of God.”

When God died, Anpiel said, creation had been torn open and lay vulnerable to the chaos outside. The hungry things which waited beyond could worm their way into the fabric of the world and take some of it with them as they left, tearing it further and making it all the easier for the next thing to come in. But to our great fortune, the first one that had come through did not want to devour the world, but only to take it as a home and refuge against the battering sea of chaos for as long as possible. The First Weaver entered the world and set about repairing the tear through which it had come, guarding its new home against other invaders. And it created other weavers in its image to help it with its work.

The repairs were far from perfect. The weavers could not create anything new, as God had; all they could do was stitch together the pieces they had been given. The geometry of the world distorted as they joined together pieces that had previously been distant. The pieces didn’t fit together quite right at the seams, and things still managed to sneak in through the gaps. And whenever things did make their way in, they would make new tears which the weavers would repair to their best of their ability, but the world would get a little more ragged. Eventually it would disintegrate beyond the weavers’ ability to maintain, and the outside would gobble up those scraps that remained.

In the meantime, though, the weavers were an invaluable boon to the angels, which lacked the ability to carry out such repairs themselves. They were, however, often at odds. The weavers had no concern for God’s plan, only the canvas on which it was to be carried out. Many of the things the angels had been tasked with protecting --the humans most of all-- were to the weavers merely vulnerabilities, providing a foothold for invading outsiders. And the weavers would without hesitation destroy anything they saw as threatening the structure of the world.

---

The first part of the weaver I saw was shaped like one of the little spiders I would see in the ruins, but magnified a thousandfold. The core of its body was larger than mine, and with its stocky legs included its diameter was close to three times my height. Its surface was a total, reflectionless black, making it look more like a patch of darkness or a hole in my field of vision than a physical object taking up space. If there were eyes on the head, they were the same flat black as the rest of the body. I could see the movement of mandibles but their overall shape was utterly unclear.

Above it was what looked like a second spider floating in the air, as if the first spider was being reflected in a surface just above our heads. This one was many-colored and shimmering, its surface like resin floating on water. Its eyes and mandibles were radiant, so bright and complicated they hurt to look at. Although it seemed to mirror the first spider’s movements step-for-step, a closer look made it clear that it wasn’t walking along a reflected ground. It was hanging as from a web, and indeed I could make out thin shining threads in the air around it. Except... following the legs out from the spider, they branched, and they kept branching, becoming thinner and more numerous as they went out, until they were indistinguishable from the web it was climbing on.

For several minutes, the weaver ignored us entirely, its focus totally taken up by the tear I had created. Both sets of mandibles and both sets of legs worked at the hole and the air around it, the black spider periodically reaching a leg back to draw almost-invisible thread from the abdomen of the shimmering one. The thread was wrapped around the hole in a pattern I couldn’t understand, and gradually the hole shrank and disappeared to nothing. There remained a distortion in the air, like looking through one of the glass shards that we’d sometimes find in the ruins. But the opening to the outside was entirely gone.

The weaver, both parts of it, turned to face me. It spoke, sounding like a chorus of almost-human voices speaking almost in unison and not at all in harmony. “The mouth-which-is-also-a-human has bitten the world and swallowed nothing. The weaver requests an explanation for the bite.”

I responded, almost managing to keep the stammer out of my voice. “An outsider had infected the crow, and this was the only way I knew to lure it out.”

“The threads binding the human-which-is-also-a-mouth to the crow are weak and easily broken. The chain from the human-which-also-a-mouth to the human-which-is-only-a-human to the crow is stronger but still insufficient to motivate a dangerous act. The weaver requests a causal thread binding the crow’s condition to the bite.”

Introspecting under the weaver’s stare was not exactly easy, but I had a feeling that providing an answer it considered satisfactory was my best chance of getting out of this alive. “Um, I wanted to prove that I could be useful to others, that I wasn’t just a dangerous burden.” It didn’t respond, so I continued: “I felt like maybe if Starlight, that’s the crow, could be saved then so could I. And... maybe I wanted to pretend that the threads binding me to the other human were stronger than they were.” I didn’t realize that I was aping the weaver’s language until the words were already out of my mouth. I tried not to think about the fact that Sumac was next to me and had heard everything I had just said.

“The weaver requests a clarification of the usage of the word ‘saved’ by the human-which-is-also-a-mouth.” When it said “saved” the many voices abruptly died off, replaced by a single voice --my voice-- saying the word exactly as I had said it.

“Saved from infection, I mean. I want to be... only a human and not also a mouth.”

The weaver considered me for a long moment. “The interests of the weaver and the human-which-is-also-a-mouth are perhaps sufficiently aligned for a conflict to be avoided. The human-which-is-also-a-mouth desires to be ‘saved’ and the angel will not permit the mouth-which-is-also-a-human to reenter with world-blood dripping from the teeth. The weaver cannot separate the human from what the human also is, but the weaver will render the mouth-aspect inert while leaving the human-aspect intact. The human-which-is-also-a-mouth will be made more similar to humans-which-are-only-humans, the world-blood will be concealed from the angel, and future bites will become impossible.” A brief pause, and then “The weaver wishes the human-which-is-also-a-mouth to understand that no choice to leave unchanged is being offered. The mouth-which-is-also-a-human will permit being sealed shut or the human and the mouth will alike be destroyed.”

I almost laughed. Minutes earlier, I had fully expected to die; now it seemed like the weaver was going to do me a favor instead. Of course, there was a lot I didn’t understand about its proposal, and it could easily end up being to my detriment in ways I had no way to anticipate. But as the weaver pointed out, I wasn’t exactly in a position to refuse, and I allowed myself to hope that the curse on my body and life might be, if not broken, at least alleviated. I nodded.

The black half of the weaver lunged suddenly towards me, and the world went dark.

---

When I came to, it felt like only seconds had passed, but the weaver was gone. I looked at the teeth on my leg, and they had been covered with a thick layer of webbing, like a captured fly. I tugged on it experimentally, but it wouldn’t come off. I thought about asking Sumac how much time had passed, or what the weaver had done, but I was too exhausted for speaking to be worth the effort. We returned to Anpiel in silence.

It was days before I thought to wonder why the weaver hadn’t just killed me. It was months before what I now believe to be the true answer occurred to me: If the weaver had tried to fight me, it wasn’t sure that it would have won.

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