animal death tw i guess |'>

Date: 2017-10-02 04:49 am (UTC)
dustless: (don't want this)
From: [personal profile] dustless
Elsewhere in the gardens, Frisk's eyes snap open.

They're on the ground, filthy, hair full of twigs like they've torn through a whole forest--well, they have, maybe even thrice through--but that's not what they notice first.

First is the feathers.

...Not hers; anothers'. Blue, scattered over their miraculously-reformed clothes and mouth and hands, and there's red there too.

Of course there is. There's even a shape of the peacock's skull in the dirt a few feet to the left of them.

They're hungry enough that it doesn't even inspire nausea. Only guilt, and only a little; a scent stabs them in the stomach, leaving them shuddering.

Their body's normal, but just that, it seems. Their hands shake when they stand up, and they follow their nose to the source as naturally as if they could see it.

Frisk stops beneath the dappled light of a grove, too-bright yellow eyes glinting down at...

More. More feathers, except they know know know absolutely it'll be better than meat.

The person they're attached to is an afterthought. They dip their head in greeting, awkwardly, before they start forward.

They'll get one. Just one. To try.
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