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[Dated to July 12]
It sort of figured, really. Not even a full twenty-four hours after he’d hit the one year mark on the Island and the place decided to fuck with him. Royally.
It was like he’d been the victim of a visit from the fucking tooth fairy, but in reverse.
He’d woken up with the taste of blood in his mouth, a sharp familiar zing that started in faint, but intensified as he blinked the final holds of sleep away. A crimson stripe was left on the pale skin of back of his hand after wiping it across his lips, and pushing his tongue to the front of his mouth had revealed the reason why.
Those certainly hadn't been there before... Or, they had, but not for a full year now.
He remembered the drill, how awkward and clumsy he'd been with them the first time around; they took time to get used to, not that he thought he'd have that time this go 'round.
Why were they even there for a second time around? The first set had been confiscated at the door by the Island's inviso-bouncer system. A fully loaded gun and half a mind to use it made it right on through, but modified canines were a no-no. Maybe his task had been to prove he could have the gun on his person for an extended period of time without killing anyone before getting his teeth back... Asher had though it a bit more likely that this was just another nuisances that came with living on the island.
The fangs were a startling discovery to say the least, and when he got ready for the day – poking and prodding at the sharp canines with his tongue the entire time – he had kept telling himself that they weren’t permanent; they were just another one of those temporary mindfucks the Island liked to pull.
He wasn’t sure if knowing that made matters better or worse, but he did know that he didn’t want to take any chances. Avoiding people as much as possible, until the Island was finished dicking him around, seemed like the safest course of action.
Maybe he’d sit in the sun all day, popping garlic cloves like potato chips, just in case this turn of events went deeper than a simple cosmetic change.
[part the second]
It sort of figured, really. Not even a full twenty-four hours after he’d hit the one year mark on the Island and the place decided to fuck with him. Royally.
It was like he’d been the victim of a visit from the fucking tooth fairy, but in reverse.
He’d woken up with the taste of blood in his mouth, a sharp familiar zing that started in faint, but intensified as he blinked the final holds of sleep away. A crimson stripe was left on the pale skin of back of his hand after wiping it across his lips, and pushing his tongue to the front of his mouth had revealed the reason why.
Those certainly hadn't been there before... Or, they had, but not for a full year now.
He remembered the drill, how awkward and clumsy he'd been with them the first time around; they took time to get used to, not that he thought he'd have that time this go 'round.
Why were they even there for a second time around? The first set had been confiscated at the door by the Island's inviso-bouncer system. A fully loaded gun and half a mind to use it made it right on through, but modified canines were a no-no. Maybe his task had been to prove he could have the gun on his person for an extended period of time without killing anyone before getting his teeth back... Asher had though it a bit more likely that this was just another nuisances that came with living on the island.
The fangs were a startling discovery to say the least, and when he got ready for the day – poking and prodding at the sharp canines with his tongue the entire time – he had kept telling himself that they weren’t permanent; they were just another one of those temporary mindfucks the Island liked to pull.
He wasn’t sure if knowing that made matters better or worse, but he did know that he didn’t want to take any chances. Avoiding people as much as possible, until the Island was finished dicking him around, seemed like the safest course of action.
Maybe he’d sit in the sun all day, popping garlic cloves like potato chips, just in case this turn of events went deeper than a simple cosmetic change.
[part the second]
Current Mood: 
worried
worriedLeave a comment