06-14-2018, 10:25 PM
When the demon last died, he assumed he wouldn't return to any living world -- the blast was supposed to destroy his soul, smash it into so many pieces that no power in the universe could put him back together again. But, much to his confusion, he neglected to fall to Humpty Dumpty's fate. He'd slammed into this mutated human, booting out the host soul before consuming it in demonic hunger without thought. Because, truly, he never did think much about selecting a proper human host whenever he needed to rejoin mortal society.
To find this time he had fingers, of all wonderful things, that came as quite a pleasant surprise. Pleased with himself, but growing increasingly annoyed at mortal issues, he hummed some satanic song to himself as he wandered into the closest grocery store. Perhaps he'd only been dead for hours, because he still understood what hunger pains were. Still, he supposed that he could have been dead for centuries or stuck in a timeless void; after all, he was quite sure that his soul was in quite a sorry state after his suicide. Perhaps it had taken eons, countless universes collapsing and reforming in an infinite loop before he was stable enough to possess a body.
Musing on these things, he turned into the aisle marked "protein bars and spices," the memories engraved in the previous inhabitant's brain still intact and informing him that the body's owner usually liked to consume these "protein bars." His long, pale fingers flexed before he reached out to grab two boxes, reflexively turning over the boxes and studying the nutrition information.
He scratched at his left cheek -- growing a bit of stubble, much to his surprise -- while he squinted his gaze at the label. It was strange, evaluating nutrition criteria with someone else's knowledge; he supposed that he really had no idea how accurate the previous inhabitant's knowledge base was. For all Ramsay the Human knew, he might not know protein bars contained holy water and Ramsay the Demon would be dead after consuming them. As he studied the information, oblivious to his surroundings, he supposed this "triple chocolate caramel" flavor might be worth chancing a second suicide, though.
To find this time he had fingers, of all wonderful things, that came as quite a pleasant surprise. Pleased with himself, but growing increasingly annoyed at mortal issues, he hummed some satanic song to himself as he wandered into the closest grocery store. Perhaps he'd only been dead for hours, because he still understood what hunger pains were. Still, he supposed that he could have been dead for centuries or stuck in a timeless void; after all, he was quite sure that his soul was in quite a sorry state after his suicide. Perhaps it had taken eons, countless universes collapsing and reforming in an infinite loop before he was stable enough to possess a body.
Musing on these things, he turned into the aisle marked "protein bars and spices," the memories engraved in the previous inhabitant's brain still intact and informing him that the body's owner usually liked to consume these "protein bars." His long, pale fingers flexed before he reached out to grab two boxes, reflexively turning over the boxes and studying the nutrition information.
He scratched at his left cheek -- growing a bit of stubble, much to his surprise -- while he squinted his gaze at the label. It was strange, evaluating nutrition criteria with someone else's knowledge; he supposed that he really had no idea how accurate the previous inhabitant's knowledge base was. For all Ramsay the Human knew, he might not know protein bars contained holy water and Ramsay the Demon would be dead after consuming them. As he studied the information, oblivious to his surroundings, he supposed this "triple chocolate caramel" flavor might be worth chancing a second suicide, though.