02-10-2020, 05:05 PM
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Sunshine glinted off the lenses of his mask; he squeezed his eye shut, the sudden brightness from above startling the boy. His mind could only process confusion, a harsh breath rasping from behind the mask's filter. Blinking, he adjusted to the new landscape, the expected gloom and endless horizon of purgatory replaced by sand dunes and simmering heat. His intact brow drew with the bloodied other. The others always warned him of the rare summoning, describing it to abruptly spawn in an unfamiliar room at the command of another. Yet he never quite experienced such a task himself, thoroughly bewildered. And sweating. Damn his thick clothes... he glanced to his body, finding a dense pelt instead. Confusion swelled as he brushed claws along a vested chest. Oh, what was it that Isaac said? Something scientific and monotone, probably.
Chuffing to himself, he wobbled to his new legs, swishing a bushy tail. He wasn't sure what he was -- maybe a mix of a dog and a squirrel, with a little bit of bear thrown in. Paw still pressed to his chest, he found himself sitting back down in the burning sand again, amazed by his discovery. A heartbeat. He was alive again. A rough tongue swiped over teeth, pausing where a gap was expected to make sure he was still himself, too. Nikolai Pavlukhin was alive. Grinning madly to himself under the gas mask, the youth regained his footing, wincing at the heat. As though he were dancing on a stovetop, he lifted two out of four legs, balancing precariously on diagonal stilts and switching off every so often.
A glimpse of black caught his eye. Swiveling his head to glance over his shoulder, his jaw set as he studied a ring of paint encompassing a star, the winds scattering the sand it was drawn on. So he had been summoned. But... by who? Licking his nose as he panted, his cold gaze scanned the barren desert around him for the culprit, intent to carry out whatever task he was needed for so he could escape the unbearable heat as soon as possible.
Chuffing to himself, he wobbled to his new legs, swishing a bushy tail. He wasn't sure what he was -- maybe a mix of a dog and a squirrel, with a little bit of bear thrown in. Paw still pressed to his chest, he found himself sitting back down in the burning sand again, amazed by his discovery. A heartbeat. He was alive again. A rough tongue swiped over teeth, pausing where a gap was expected to make sure he was still himself, too. Nikolai Pavlukhin was alive. Grinning madly to himself under the gas mask, the youth regained his footing, wincing at the heat. As though he were dancing on a stovetop, he lifted two out of four legs, balancing precariously on diagonal stilts and switching off every so often.
A glimpse of black caught his eye. Swiveling his head to glance over his shoulder, his jaw set as he studied a ring of paint encompassing a star, the winds scattering the sand it was drawn on. So he had been summoned. But... by who? Licking his nose as he panted, his cold gaze scanned the barren desert around him for the culprit, intent to carry out whatever task he was needed for so he could escape the unbearable heat as soon as possible.