BODY HORROR/TRANSFORMATION MEME

[darkslayer]

For whatever reason, you're changing. Maybe you just drank a goofy potion and became an animal. Maybe you were put under a curse and need to find a way to reverse it, otherwise you'll be trapped as a monster forever. Maybe you've always been this way, or maybe you want to play out the whole shebang of slow, torturous transformation/body horror. This meme can be as dark or as light-hearted as you prefer.

THERE'S NO PROMPTS BECAUSE I'M A LAZY SHIT BUT: Please specify in the comments if you'd prefer to avoid body horror content! Also try to avoid leaving your comments blank and toss out some ideas or potential scenarios you'd like to work with.

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Malik al-Sayf | Assassin's Creed

[swordking]

[raven!harpy transformation! And he's doing his damnedest to hide it. He can hide the physical signs easily enough for now, but there's no hiding his irritability or his occasional twinges in pain.]

Malik al-Sayf | Assassin's Creed

[notonetorun]

[If there's one thing Altaïr has always been able to know, Al Mualim aside, is when someone is lying to him. And right now, Malik was lying to everyone.

He didn't know why, or what he was trying to hide, but he intended to find out.

Whether he'd have to follow Malik around like a target, or he could coach it out of Malik would have to be seen. For now, it was seemingly business as usual in Masyaf as Altaïr went to meet Malik.]

Malik.

[swordking]

[Malik is seated behind his desk, a glove covering his remaining hand as he goes over his maps, fixing the shoreline of Cyprus, adjusting this and that. It helps him ignore the ache in his bones and the dull throbbing in his feet and back.]

Altair. [He glances up at Altair and looks away again.] You're here early this morning. Usually you sleep like a rock...or at least appear to.

[notonetorun]

The same could be said for you, my friend.

[He approaches Malik's desk.] You've been up earlier and earlier, I've heard.

[swordking]

One does tend to get more done when they rise an hour before dawn, instead of midmorning. [If only that were the truth. Malik had slept perhaps ten hours in three days, the dark circles under his eyes obvious. The pain kept him awake for long periods of time, and woke him continuously, robbing him of much-needed rest.]

Did you need something? Updates on the recently unemployed Crusaders? Summaries of the recruits' progress, perhaps?

[The sooner he could get Altair out of his hair, the sooner he could relieve his shoulders of their uncomfortable position of being pressed against his chair.]

[notonetorun]

[If Malik thought he had Altaïr fooled, the he either insulted him, or was really that desperate. Subtlety would have no room here, it seemed.]

I'll take the summaries of the recruits' progress, and what's been bothering you these past few days.

[swordking]

[He fell silent. After handing over the proper papers he remained seated, shifting a bit to ease the ache in his shoulder.]

...I would rather not discuss it, Altair. It is my burden alone.

[notonetorun]

There's no such thing for any of us, brother. [He got closer to the desk, his expression growing concerned and maybe a little pleading.]

Please... Let me help you.

[swordking]

[Malik sighed. Altair wasn't going anywhere. That much was obvious. Even if he did resolve to kill him, it might be a mercy compared to this. He braced himself on the desk and pushed his chair back.

There was a reason he couldn't wear his boots anymore. And that reason was the state of his feet. They had progressed well past anything resembling human, gray skin covered in black scales, the toenails lengthened into sharp black claws.]

You cannot help me with something such as this, Altair. [His tone is soft and even, but even he won't look at what his feet have become.] No one can.

[notonetorun]

[Well... Malik was right. He couldn't help with that. He stood there, eyes wide in shock and mouth agape.]

How... When... Oh, Malik.

[Needless to say, he understood completely why Malik wanted to keep that hidden. He got closer to the man, putting his hand on Malik's in an attempt of being somehow reassuring, even if he had no idea how to deal with this.]

Are you still changing anywhere else?

[swordking]

[Malik jerked his hand away from Altair's.]

...I don't know if this is a disease or a deformity. Until I do, you should keep your distance.

[He leaned forward slightly in his chair, the discomfort too much to continue sitting like that.] And yes. I am. In a manner of speaking...

[notonetorun]

[He will just flat out ignore the warning to keep his distance. No way is he leaving Malik alone like that.]

If this is either, then it must be new. Something like this... it's like the stuff of mythology.

[And then he noticed Malik moving forward in his chair.]

On your back?

[swordking]

[He nods in reply. The pain is an annoyance more than a debilitation. Malik was conditioned to handle pain like the rest of them. Though he scoffs at Altair's mention of mythology.]

Some kind of curse from a roc? Or the garuda of India? Perhaps the Greeks and their harpies did it.

[His sarcasm turns serious.] I cannot stay in Masyaf.

[notonetorun]

[He just rolled his eyes at Malik's sarcasm. He didn't actually mean he believed that's what happened, he was just noting the similarities.

But what Malik said next was more pressing.]

Where would you go, though?

[swordking]

I am not sure. Anywhere there are no other people. I do not want to spread this, if it is some kind of disease. [That, and he doesn't want to inadvertently harm anyone. He doesn't know how this will change him.]

[notonetorun]

[He crossed his arms as he thought. He didn't want to see Malik go, not in that state. It'd be impossible to know anything about the man afterwards, and Altaïr wouldn't be able to stand that. Just the thought of Malik dying somewhere without him knowing made his stomach turn.

Then he had an idea.]

There is a chamber on the tower where my quarters are. It was once used as a quarantine ward for the Mentor's apprentices, but it has not seen any use in many years now; most have probably forgotten it even exists. I only know of it because Al Mualim told me about it when Abbas and I ran into it once, as children. It is fairly out of the way for anyone not snooping around. It's not perfect, but you could stay there.

[swordking]

[Malik can't help a slight smile. Even if it is painfully bitter.]

...You are not being a very good Mentor, keeping me here like this. But thank you.

[He tenses suddenly, and Altair would be able to see...or rather hear...why. There was a rather loud, dull pop from his right shoulder blade. Malik didn't cry out, but his reaction is telling enough.]

[notonetorun]

[Altaïr couldn't help but smile at that.]

You are wor-

[And then there as the pop. A very audible, if dull, pop. The smile was gone immediately.]

We should go now. We can look at that inside.

[swordking]

[He pulls himself to his feet using the desk. With as much pain as he's in, and again that feeling of growing pressure in his shoulders...it doesn't take a genius with only a basic knowledge of a bird's anatomy to guess what's coming. Malik swallows. This time of morning, there will be fewer patrols. Most of the other Assassins will still be asleep.]

We need to be careful. If anyone sees...

[notonetorun]

[He nodded and looked outside. The few patrols that were out seemed to be focused on the outside of the fortress.]

It's clear. Come.

[swordking]

[Malik followed, slow and unsteady on his birdlike feet. To his credit, though, his balance wasn't so terrible that he had to rely on Altair. They would make it to the tower without incident, with Altair keeping watch.]

I have to admit, I am not looking forward to stairs. [He smirked despite his discomfort. It wasn't so much that he'd lost his sense of humor completely.]

[notonetorun]

[Altaïr chuckles at that despite himself, still recognizing how true that statement was.]

I am not opposed to carrying you up the stairs, if need be.

[Is he joking? Is he serious? Who knows.]

[swordking]

[Judging by the look Malik is giving him? He better be joking.]

You are not carrying me. [And with that, he begins to ascend the stairs, grumbling to himself about dignity and something about Altair's foolishness.]

One thing, Altair... don't let anyone into my office while I'm up here. If there's something I cannot stand, it is someone running their dirty fingers over my maps.

[notonetorun]

[Altaïr just lets out another chuckle as he hears Malik mumble, walking a little behind Malik so he could catch the man if he fell.]

Of course. I'll make sure everything is the way you left it when you return.

[swordking]

If I return, Altair. If.

[His pessimism is warranted. The state of his body almost guarantees that he will never be free to walk about Masyaf ever again. Or simply be in the company of anyone other than Altair. Not that he detests the man, but...

There will be no one else.

There will be nothing else.]

[At the top of the tower his feet are aching, but the sharp twinging pains in his shoulders are getting stronger. He slumps onto the nearest piece of furniture to sit and get off his feet.]

...My arm gave me less pain than this.