[ jayce would give anything to be frustrated about his damn antler rack because, quite frankly, he hadn't actually cared about them. the only setback they'd caused had been ripping his shirts, getting caught in overgrowth or hitting the frames both in convoy and his own vehicle. luckily, his truck had a spacey interior that allowed for room. it took some accustoming, but hindrances tend to become quite low on the scale of irritations for jayce. it's hard to beat anything out of the ravine, and perhaps the only true thing that keeps him in a strange push and pull of unncertainty, mixed feelings and grievance is being a walking corpse.
he'd be okay with just being part deer. satyr, if you will. he'd be alright with it. he'd get used to the balance of the hooves, swallow the chronic pain in his legs and be thankful he's not alive enough to get laminitis. it's the dead part of things, and newly, a very large, mutated form brought on by a surge of fear that has ruined most of his nights. he hasn't figured out how to turn back. work in progress, and constant scientific failure. being blind now is just another slab of icing on the cake. he could only hear (and smell) people coming.
is he doing all right? if the black void of his face could show any emotion, it'd be of exhausted, sour incredulity. it doesn't have to be seen, at least. it is felt like the strike of a hammer.
peachy, the thing responds with a dripping bit of sardonic bite, but only in thought, and one that shared. ]
shared thoughts
he'd be okay with just being part deer. satyr, if you will. he'd be alright with it. he'd get used to the balance of the hooves, swallow the chronic pain in his legs and be thankful he's not alive enough to get laminitis. it's the dead part of things, and newly, a very large, mutated form brought on by a surge of fear that has ruined most of his nights. he hasn't figured out how to turn back. work in progress, and constant scientific failure. being blind now is just another slab of icing on the cake. he could only hear (and smell) people coming.
is he doing all right? if the black void of his face could show any emotion, it'd be of exhausted, sour incredulity. it doesn't have to be seen, at least. it is felt like the strike of a hammer.
peachy, the thing responds with a dripping bit of sardonic bite, but only in thought, and one that shared. ]