- Aug 9, 2016
- 5,922
- Gender
- Male
- Pronouns
- Him/Her/Them
- Posting Status
- Daily, Weekly
Jeremiah nodded once, nuzzling his skull against Zora's hand. He could feel her, but only just barely and only really as warmth. He did as she asked, fumbling with the elf stone to attach it to his necklace. It was a nice symbolic gesture in a way. Two gifts, from each set of parents, to give him back some semblance of normalcy.
Putting the necklace on was less troublesome, if only because he could tie it together with a wrapping of vine from his own body. Jeremiah figured that he could tie it properly when his hands were more manageable.
The effect was subtle and slow, but dramatic in its effect. Once the necklace was around his neck proper, Jeremiah's body began to flake and chip away. Wood sloughed off in strips, and entire chunks fell away as the fur and leaves that made up his 'mane' shed unceremoniously onto the ground.
From inside the wooden body, a crack formed and a familiar, pale face and wine-dark eyes could be seen behind it. His tattooed hands grasped at the crack, urging it wider with as much strength as he could muster. The body split, the ram's skull falling to the ground and crumbling to chalk. The whole thing, unable to endure the structural abuse it was suffering, fell apart.
And there, tattooed and scarred as he had ever been, sat Jeremiah on his knees. He fell forward onto his hands, reveling in the feeling of the grass. Of the chill wind on his bare skin, oblivious to his own nakedness as tears welled up in his eyes.
Jeremiah didn't have words to express himself. There were too many emotions all at once. He choked and sputtered and shuddered, sobbing in something like relief and joy.
Putting the necklace on was less troublesome, if only because he could tie it together with a wrapping of vine from his own body. Jeremiah figured that he could tie it properly when his hands were more manageable.
The effect was subtle and slow, but dramatic in its effect. Once the necklace was around his neck proper, Jeremiah's body began to flake and chip away. Wood sloughed off in strips, and entire chunks fell away as the fur and leaves that made up his 'mane' shed unceremoniously onto the ground.
From inside the wooden body, a crack formed and a familiar, pale face and wine-dark eyes could be seen behind it. His tattooed hands grasped at the crack, urging it wider with as much strength as he could muster. The body split, the ram's skull falling to the ground and crumbling to chalk. The whole thing, unable to endure the structural abuse it was suffering, fell apart.
And there, tattooed and scarred as he had ever been, sat Jeremiah on his knees. He fell forward onto his hands, reveling in the feeling of the grass. Of the chill wind on his bare skin, oblivious to his own nakedness as tears welled up in his eyes.
Jeremiah didn't have words to express himself. There were too many emotions all at once. He choked and sputtered and shuddered, sobbing in something like relief and joy.