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[personal profile] justwantsafety
((Warnings: Near-cannibalism.
Optional effects for this non-interactive take on it: Unthinking, ravenous HUNGER, and then quickly building fear and squickedness.
Notes: Interactive version of it is here. Also, he's in a chef costume thanks to the event.))

Meat. Roasted. Perfect. A hint of smoke in the air, the taste of singed blood.

He couldn't get enough of it. Hunger gnawed in his stomach, drove him on. Eyes still closed, he opened his mouth and leaned forward, teeth sinking into the hot flesh, and he pulled back, tearing the bite away. He couldn't eat it fast enough. It seemed that every bite only intensified the need for more.

"Harley?" It was Abel's voice, concerned. "Try taking smaller bites and chewing better. You could choke on it, eating like that."

The advice was firmly ignored as he swallowed, the hunger only growing, twisting in the pit of his stomach as the back of his left hand burned, tingled with some sense of energy, of power, that crept through him, driving him on.

Rise's giggle came from the hall, following the claws-against-tiles footsteps of the two dogs.

"Take it easy. Do you need--"

He opened his eyes, dropping the rest of the roast -- as large as the serving was, it somehow seemed tiny, inconsequential -- back onto the table as he stood quickly, knocking the chair away from himself. He didn't see Abel. He saw meat standing there, could smell it, could sense the blood and the heat....


The power surged within him, and lines of glowing orange raced up from his hand, obscuring his own view with a blinding white glow for a moment, only a moment, a blink and then it was over, a blink and he was hunched over, crouched just to stay upright in the civilian house, head low on his long neck, almost raptor-like in his stance.

Meat... Hunger... Devour it all!

It registered, somewhere in his mind, just what he was readying to do. For a moment, he was able to focus again, and the revulsion of the situation hit him harder than the hunger. This was Abel. And Rise, and their dogs, just beyond him, next to him, coming closer. He couldn't harm them, --


-- wouldn't let himself harm them. But that instinct was strong, and he was losing his grip on it again, losing the fight to stay in control of it, and the hunger--


-- was pressing in harder. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a shrill scream, something inhuman and primal. His focus was slipping again, the demon's instincts overriding any conscious effort to resist.

oh gods please no

He lunged forward.

Harley gasped, eyes wide, the mark on the back of his left hand glowing orange, and sat up quickly. A little too quickly -- he managed to fall right off the couch, hitting his forehead against the coffee table that the Dreamberry was sitting on, and disappearing below the camera's view.

He'll just be a moment while he calms down and picks himself back up.


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Harley, Leader of the Vanguards

April 2015

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