Carson Durand (dontlaugh) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2019-02-22 10:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | #december 2017, #group scene, carson, lem, nic, nick, rylee, vex, zania |
Who: Carson, Rylee, Vex, Lem, Nic, Zania, Nick
When: Sunday, Dec 3rd, sundown and after
Where: Vex and Lem’s basement
Warning: monstrousness
Status: ongoing in comments
Carson had been mildly proud of himself that he hadn’t had a full-on panic attack in the car on the way to Ludlow Street. It had been a pretty close thing, him in the passenger seat while Rylee drove them, watching the sun on its way down. So many times he got so close to shouting at her to stop the car, let him out, let him just run away from all this. It was completely irrational, he couldn’t run from himself and this curse, but the compulsion to try was crazy-strong. He was glad they’d decided to let her drive, because he wasn’t sure he would’ve made it the whole way without trying to just floor it out of town.
Carson was extremely grateful to see that Nic was already there when they arrived, standing with his sister Zania and the tiny goth-punk girl on the front porch. Nick the Expert showed up not too long after, carrying a long duffel bag inside with him. Carson could only assume it had the tranquilizer guns in it. Meeting the white-haired guy who also owned the place was strange, but Carson was too jittery to pay much attention, shaking his hand and muttering some sort of thanks for letting him use the cage in the guy’s basement. Nobody seemed much in the mood for chit-chat, which was fine by him.
He listened to Nick explain to them all again what was going to happen: Carson would go in the cage very soon, they would wait for the change to happen, shoot him with the tranq, and wait out the night. They could keep watch in shifts, just in case the drugs wore off before the sun came up, and shoot him with one of the half-dose darts. He assured them that Carson shouldn’t be anything but groggy when he woke up human again, and asked them all to do their best not to panic. It was going to get scary, but they should all be okay. The ringing in Carson’s ears as his heart pounded away in his chest wasn’t so sure, but there wasn’t much he could do to help this situation.
When the time came, Carson walked into the cage. He kept looking at Rylee, with a mixture of quiet terror and a longing to be able to kiss her. There were too many witnesses though -- one of whom could apparently hear his thoughts, a fact Carson was doing his damndest to ignore because he didn’t need anything else to freak out about -- so he just hugged her tight and fast before he stepped behind the bars and let the door close. He’d put on a pair of old long basketball shorts and a t-shirt he didn’t mind destroying, and sat down on the plastic outdoor chair they’d put in his cell to take off his prosthetic leg. Nick had recommended that, lest it get destroyed in this whole process. Carson stripped off the neoprene sock over his stump and handed it all to Rylee through the bars for safekeeping.
Now it was just a waiting game.
Carson did so with his head in his hands, his full leg bouncing restlessly, toes cold against the concrete under him. When his insides began to twist and squirm, he thought it was just more panic at first, but the sensation gathered momentum and launched into outright pain. He looked up, his gaze fixing on Rylee, and Carson clutched at his chest a bit as his breathing quickened. He didn’t remember any of this from the first time, Adam had already put him out when the change started, and Carson’s fear rose as the pain did. “It hurts,” he declared breathlessly, wide eyes ticking to Nick. “Is it supp--”
That was as far as Carson got. He was wrenched out of the chair and onto the concrete floor as his body started to tear itself apart and change, growing longer and wider, bones cracking as they came out of joints to rearrange themselves. Carson screamed and writhed, the pain transporting him into a hell where nothing else existed, even his voice warping and deepening into something inhuman while his clothes ripped and dark brown fur started to sprout out of his tattooed skin. It was a grueling, horrific, long handful of minutes until Carson had fully transformed into a huge hulking wolf monster on the ground.
He lay still for a heartbeat or two, his breath loud and huffing in his big chest. Then yellow, flat eyes popped open and the wolf got to his feet -- there were still only three limbs, one back leg ending in a stump held close to his body. The wolf’s gaze swept over them, then he lifted his muzzle and let out a howl that was ear-splitting in the enclosed space.
Nick had the tranquilizer gun ready, the stock braced against his shoulder, and he took aim and fired the dart into the side of that thick, furred neck. The werewolf’s howl turned into a roar and he snarled, murder in those yellow eyes and sharp teeth, and immediately lunged at the bars of the cage. The clang was loud and the bars shook, but held fast. The second lunge was much weaker, and the third was more of a slump as the tranq quickly took effect. The wolf gave one more small whining howl, then went still and quiet but for its big breaths, body pressed against the bars of the cage, head cocked at a strange angle and ears limp. He was out cold, for now.