graphic gore ★ genderfluid ★ serval shapeshifting into a crow

“You think so?” Vale said. Ve finished picking at vis teeth, and the pearly whites gleamed against the inflamed grey gums.

The bleeding flesh erupted into blisters, expanding until they pop, pop, popped! As the shapeshifter’s remaining pelt sloughed off, falling into the sand, ve rolled vis red eyes until one popped out, swinging by the optic nerve still tethered to the skull. One claw speared the eye, yanked it free, and plopped it into Vale’s mouth. “What is natural? What is unnatural? Flesh decays, starting from the moment of the host’s death. And that’s what we carnivores eat, you know, though I admit… starting when the prey’s alive tastes freshest, don’t you agree?”

While Vale spoke, the fur dropped off vis face. Then the flesh. Then the remaining eye. And, finally, the skull.

For a moment, the headless body swayed on blistering legs. Then the knees gave out as one, and it crumpled to the ground. Blood and puss oozed off the skeleton. Part of the flesh moved, twitched, until a crow’s beak poked out through the filth.

The crow, shaking goo off vis wings, hopped away from the rapidly decaying corpse. Then the crow looked back to Elle, head tilted, and huffed out a puff of black smoke. “Well? Are you jealous? Of course you’re not. Why would you be? You are a single skin, aren’t you, incapable of comprehending… well, it’s not important. You came to the Pitt for violence, didn’t you? Most do. I did!” Vale chuckled, fluffed up vis wings, and took off into the air.

“Remember, when you start to get bored with Gaelic Breath’s boring leadership, just who’s the ultraviolence alternative. Haha! Hahahaha!”