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.

Comments

[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.

[notonetorun]

With your arm, you also knew what to do, at least.

[He removed his right gauntlet and retracted his hand to the inside of his robes through the sleeve, and after some searching produced a single copper key.]

Our destination is near. Do you still need some time?

[swordking]

[A grunt escaped him as his back spasmed. The thought of being silent, of keeping this all contained, was wearing him down. He was sweating now, the droplets gleaming on his forehead and threatening to roll into his eyes. He got up and stretched out the long toes of his feet.]

I'm...fine. We should keep moving.

[notonetorun]

[Still worried, Altaïr nodded and led Malik down the main hall until he suddenly made a turn to an easily missed side hall. It was a short, rather narrow and dark place, with no windows and just a single door at the end.

Using the key he'd produced from his robes, Altaïr opened the door, leading Malik into the chamber. It was only slightly larger than the novice's chambers, clearly made to accommodate no more than three people. But it was clean, the thin layer of dusk aside, the mattresses looked relatively comfortable and four narrow windows, too narrow for anyone to climb into the chamber, gave it light as the sunlight streamed through.

Once they were both inside, Altaïr closer and locked the door.]

Let's see what is on your back.

[swordking]

[Malik gave him a pointed look.] You haven't guessed?

[But his clothing is being uncomfortably restrictive, and so he began to strip to his waist. Even the removal of his overcoat was a blessing.

...The way that his shoulders were hideously swollen, he had a point. The glove stays on. But wriggling his upper body out of his robes, there's no reason. The back of his arm, his neck, most of his back...they were all covered in glossy black feathers.]