The Angel Balthazar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tryingitall) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kore_logs2013-04-05 12:43 pm
tryingitall) wrote in kore_logs2013-04-05 12:43 pm
Entry tags:
let us out let us OUT
Who: Balthazar and Open
What: It sucks to fall asleep and then wake up as a Leviathan.
Where: House 11
When: Day 58
Warnings: Probably violence, general creepiness.
Balthazar has been known to attempt sleeping here and there, mostly on a couch or, catlike, bathing in a sunbeam. He's never out for more than a few minutes at a time. When he wakes on the floor, it doesn't immediately strike him as bizarre. Only...he doesn't remember going down for the count, and the floor isn't an ideal place for it, evidently, because he aches.
In fact, he aches all over.
Slowly, he sits up and tries to blink away the blurriness at the edges of his vision. He can feel blood pounding in his vessel's veins, a steady heart-beat-thump that he's never been aware of before. It's cold, though, and thick, and maybe it's not blood at all. Dazed, he studies a network of dark blood vessels that show through pale skin at his wrist, and feels the ache intensify.
It's not all over now, though, it's focused somewhere deep inside, in the pit of his stomach. Hunger, he realizes. He's starving. He's ravenous. This isn't normal. Not at all.
And then, with a lurch of horror, he realizes he can't feel his wings. Can't feel his Grace. Something awful has happened. He claws his way to his feet and staggers toward the kitchen. Surely someone else is around. Someone with an explanation.
What: It sucks to fall asleep and then wake up as a Leviathan.
Where: House 11
When: Day 58
Warnings: Probably violence, general creepiness.
Balthazar has been known to attempt sleeping here and there, mostly on a couch or, catlike, bathing in a sunbeam. He's never out for more than a few minutes at a time. When he wakes on the floor, it doesn't immediately strike him as bizarre. Only...he doesn't remember going down for the count, and the floor isn't an ideal place for it, evidently, because he aches.
In fact, he aches all over.
Slowly, he sits up and tries to blink away the blurriness at the edges of his vision. He can feel blood pounding in his vessel's veins, a steady heart-beat-thump that he's never been aware of before. It's cold, though, and thick, and maybe it's not blood at all. Dazed, he studies a network of dark blood vessels that show through pale skin at his wrist, and feels the ache intensify.
It's not all over now, though, it's focused somewhere deep inside, in the pit of his stomach. Hunger, he realizes. He's starving. He's ravenous. This isn't normal. Not at all.
And then, with a lurch of horror, he realizes he can't feel his wings. Can't feel his Grace. Something awful has happened. He claws his way to his feet and staggers toward the kitchen. Surely someone else is around. Someone with an explanation.