08-30-2019, 10:32 AM
He really wasn’t sure what the human was thinking, looking at him. He thought he’d made it very clear that he didn’t want to be looked at. He couldn’t look at himself without feeling some deep form of disgust surge forth. Why should the human have that right?
Had there been a life before this? He felt as if there had to be more. He couldn’t have woken up with the notation of feeling strange, if there was nothing to be feeling out of place? There had to be more. He figured the human was keeping it from him. Why, he didn’t know. He would figure it out though. He didn’t like the concept of something being kept from him. If he desired information, he was sure that he would be able to obtain it even if he could not speak. He was smart. He was strong.
He had used that strength on the human not too long ago. Pinned him down for looking at him. He didn’t want to be looked at, but the human had kept on. So he slammed the human against the floor again and again, screeching in an unbridled rage. That had continued until another monster had knocked him off, and he had retreated.
As much as he hated the other looking at him, he was puzzled as to why he felt so bad. He was merely upholding his own decencies. Why did he feel pain when he thought of the attack he had administered upon the human? It was justified to him. He’d let it go on long enough, and he’d put his foot down.
Now though, there was nothing for him to do. Nothing but thinking. He didn’t have to eat, the monster laid and lazed and slept long enough to counter such a thing. He was left with his mind and to preen his feathers, and with all that free time he came to a conclusion that he could not come to conclusions. No matter how deeply he thought about his strange behaviors, he could not figure out their sources nor how to stop them.
Sometimes, Blits had discovered, his mind got hung up on certain topics. Windows were one of them. He couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t even have the beginning of an idea as to why that made his mind just drop dead. Had he been hurt by a window before? What even was a window? He felt like he knew, that they were important, but at the same time was clueless and indifferent.
While searching through his vocabulary he had found the word ‘sandwich’, which created equally such a pause in his thoughts. Apparently it was a food item. He couldn’t quite put a paw on what such looked like, but it felt like he could almost remember liking them. Odd. Perhaps that was why his mind was hung up on it. He couldn’t remember ever eating such a thing. He made a note to try to create one later.
The concept of creating a sandwich, too, hung up his mind. Blits felt as if he knew how to do so, but only barely. As if it was a stretch of possibility for him to do. Not normal, but learned. In truth this whole deep thinking concept added on to a feeling of abnormality that also refused to be pinned down. His mind looped to sandwiches on a near hourly basis, whenever he got hungry. Why? Why did he have such a deep, burned in habit that survived no matter how hard he tried to shove it away?
Blits felt a nagging suspicion that he made sandwiches for more reasons that just to sate his own hunger.
His tail slowly swept behind him. He laid down, resting his fluffy head against the floor. Where had he gotten these clothes? He felt mighty comfortable in them. They had holes for his wings, sealed up by a thin line of sturdy velcro. He couldn’t quite reach around to take the shirt off, but that was fine. The most annoying thing was the strange chestplate he wore which, to his understanding, didn’t actually cover anything in a manner that mattered. He couldn’t figure out how to get it off: the buckle that secured such was around his back. He couldn’t reach, and Blits was not about to ask for help.
In addition to his thoughts being hung and looping he had thought of other things. Why his wings were always pulled close to his sides, taking up as little space as physically possible. Whenever Blits noted such he made sure to flare his wings open as wide as he could. He couldn’t understand the wince that always occurred, a flare of fear that surged from the core of his being. What had happened to make him so scared of moving his wings and taking up space? What was being hidden from him?! What had he forgotten?!
His beak clicked in anger. Pathetic. He felt utterly pathetic. All these observations and questions and he could not solve a single one of them. He felt his feathers rise and the fur of his tail bristle. Irritation, he felt infuriated. It only grew further when he felt bad about being so angry? Why?! What had caused him to have surges of fear for being angry, of all things?!
What caused him to fear a pained expression on a human’s face? Why did he fear such a thing? Why did he find himself caring?
Blits couldn’t figure such a thing out. He didn’t have the answers. He doubted he ever would. It wasn’t as if he could just ask- he couldn’t speak. He could think as deeply as he pleased, but thoughts refused to come out his beak in any manner other than a shrill squawk.
He settled his body down. Whatever. It didn’t matter. He would hurt the human again if he caught him gazing upon him again. He would have to do something more severe. Surely. That would do the trick of teaching a lesson. It would work wonderfully. It didn’t matter if he felt sudden surges of incorrectness. It didn’t matter. He was preserving his best interests, right? He could do whatever he wanted to ensure such, right?
Blits tried to sleep, and realized he couldn’t.
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FULZANIN is a 19 year old content creator. Currently roleplaying as Beezlebub in the Pitt and Jotunhel in the Typhoon. Time spent outside of work and writing is typically done in Creatures of Sonaria. FULZANIN is also in a happy relationship, and is aegosexual/asexual herself.
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