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There was an unfairness about it, in Utur’s opinion.
Yes, things were… better. They had the catharsis they had so sorely needed for so long, they had the answers they needed, the respite they’d craved. They’d heard in Alam’s own words that he had been wrong, been a fool, fucked up royally, and that he should have trusted them. That he should have done what they told him. That he had been twisted by praise and despair and a desperation to stop feeling that they had never named but seen so often. They were right. And didn’t that just make them feel so smug, so bitterly amused? The part of them they hid away from the light seemed to preen over the knowledge that they had always been right, that they were proven right.
Kishar was happy. They were happy. Even Alam was happy, and didn’t that bring them a warmth that they didn’t expect? Things were better. For the first time in years, things were worth it. They had loving partners, sweet children, family, friends, something to look forward to. They had the chance to learn, grow, become a better person, the kind of person they wanted to be, had always wanted to be. They could even regain their friendship with Alam if they wanted to - something they would do on their terms. Alam was listening to them, respecting them, would do whatever they wanted to atone for his actions. Kishar loved them, a doting sibling, happy to help, to spend time with Utur. They were loved, and loved in return.
So why did they feel like they were burning -
It came and went. A screaming, clawing feeling in their chest. Something almost animalistic in its fury, a rough and bestial urge compared with the rest of who they were. It wasn’t… It felt different to the rest of their eldritch instincts. As much as they knew it was probably related to their… inhuman nature, something about it felt different. Other. More. If they had to guess, they’d say it was a sort of… combination of human and eldritch traits. Or something. It didn’t have the cool, yet soft feeling a lot of their eldritch instincts had, nor the warmer, flickering feeling of humanity. It was both, neither, something new and sharp and… overwhelming.
It felt electric, and left the taste of ozone on their tongue. Had they no idea of what their abilities were, they’d say it could be a symptom of having storm based abilities. But no, it wasn’t that. It was too hot, too cold, too… primal, in a way. And not primal in an eldritch way - it felt like a true primordial pool of emotion, something neither part of their being could fully encompass. It felt unique, something truly theirs, and part of them wanted to hold onto it, keep it hidden and safe, treasured, yet hated. It was something no eldritch could fathom and no human could survive. It was… hungry.
It wasn’t something they could really predict. No, that was a lie - they could almost predict it. It was set off by certain things. Not consistently, just sometimes. Sometimes it was Kishar, talking about something that should have been concerning but left nothing but a sort of blank smile on their face. Sometimes it was Alam, trying so hard to be better, trying to be good. Sometimes it was set off by something as simple as them seeing him talk with someone else and not looking at them, not them, why wasn’t he looking at them - and sometimes it was other things. The darkness of the grounds at night, the howls of the creatures that roamed the forests, even the smell that heralded the coming of autumn.
Sometimes it was… other things.
(What made them feel so angry about seeing those they loved from afar? What tore at them so, making them double over in horror at their own thoughts, let alone the pain in their chest? Why wouldn’t it stop?)
It was recent. Or was it? It had gotten worse recently, yes, but it had plagued them ever since they first became eldritch. It was one of the things that would precede a bout of the pain they had come to associate with their human and eldritch traits rejecting each other. It was… easier, when they were alone. When they were around people, it would get worse, more common. The last time they had experienced it as badly as they were right now was… back when they were a bartender. They had thought it was just worsened by their annoyance, by the frustration associated with customer service, but now…
Was it just the closeness with people? Or… with strong people perhaps? OSHA hardly drew in particularly weak people after all, and… it had never been so bad when they were just around humans. Ha, humans. Such a clinical term, it felt, for the species they had been born as. The species they still dreamed they were, still wished to be, still despaired at being changed from. They were beginning to forgive Alam, yes, but the fact he was experiencing similar pains was the main reason why. His actions had consequences, and he understood them.
They didn’t mention the pains to most people. Certainly not those they loved. How could they describe this… feeling? They hadn’t even spoken to Alam about it, but something told them it wasn’t something he would understand. Even if he mourned his humanity just as much as they did, even if he hurt the same as them. This was something he just wouldn’t understand. Nobody would. And yet they had to speak to someone about it. Before it overtook them. Overtook everything.
They were so hungry.
Why was it, when this rage appeared, that they looked to those around them as less than people? When they found themself wondering what it would be like to sink their teeth into someone’s throat, tear them apart, take their lifeenergysoul essence for themself? Why did they forget themself for a moment, overwhelmed by a desire to destroy? They had almost understood, at some points; Wanting to hurt Alam in that kind of way would… be an unfortunate, yet understandable side effect of their trauma, their pain.
Why would they want to do the same to Mike?
It scared them, sometimes. How suddenly it would appear. Take them over. Practically overwrite them for just a moment. What would happen if it took them over for longer? Or permanently? Would they be able to feel anything but that all-consuming fury and starvation? It sickened Utur that they might be a danger to those around them, to those they loved. How could they figure out what caused this, without talking about it? How could they make themself better, fix themself before they hurt someone?
This would never have happened if they had never become eldritch. Even as they began to forgive Alam, the hatred would never fully go away. They would never love him like before. They were hesitant to describe eldritch beings as anything negative, because Kishar was so wonderful and important to them, and yet… they felt like a monster. A thing. A freak of nature that should never have survived. They felt abhorrent, disgusting, dangerous. A beast that thought themself a person. Was it the nature of eldritches, to treat those around them as lesser or inferior? As playthings? As prey?
(Kishar had told them about what they were like, before they repented. Even as they spoke about how terrible they had been, how much they regretted their actions, Utur could see a glint in their eyes. Something hidden away, pushed down. Something sharp and bloody, tasting of metal and rust.
Even if they insisted otherwise, Kishar enjoyed what they did.
A little too much.)
This would never have happened if Alam hadn’t been so afraid. If he hadn’t been deified. If he had listened. If he hadn’t fucking died in the first place. Utur didn’t regret their friendship, but a part of them wanted to use the freakish time abilities they’d been given to go back and stop him. Fix everything before it started. Make everything better. They could get everyone to stop worshipping him, could make their human self leave before he made them like this, could make everyone realise he was just another man. Could… could…
No. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t. They weren’t like that. They weren’t that far gone yet.
(What would the difference in taste be, between Alam now and Alam then? Would he be sweeter, softer then, or would he simply fall apart the moment they - no. They shouldn’t be considering that.)
Everything would be better if they had never been eldritch. If they had been human. Stayed human. It was all Alam’s fault for making them eldritch. Maybe even Gary’s fault for not keeping a better eye on its kid. It would have been so much better if they had never become this.
(Gods above, they’re so h u n g r y . . . )