[It's not strange for Josh to be feeling kind of shitty. He's been feeling kind of shitty for a few weeks now - or a few months. Or maybe since that night on the mountain when his sisters disappeared. Anyway, a general shitty state is not abnormal for him, and especially not now, when his mind is clearing, when he can feel guilty about things he did.
But this is a different kind of shitty. He's irritable, he's hungry, he's weirdly sore, he's distractible - it's not the usual kind of shitty, the kind he's used to, the kind that he feels at the beginning of a slow downward spiral. The hunger is definitely new, anyway, usually he loses his appetite. But he can't quite seem to eat enough, or maybe it's just that he can't find what he wants.
He's in a store, going through the food supplies, looking at and discarding cans of vegetables, soup, pasta.]
Is this really all there is? Come on. This is shit.
[b: february 21st]
[It almost doesn't feel strange anymore. It almost feels normal. The physical changes are something to get used to, but it's like second nature, like something that isn't so very important compared to the hunger Josh feels, the anger he can't control. He can't see quite right anymore, there's something wrong with his eyes and his hands and most parts of him, but what matters is how hungry he is, and how it's everyone else's fault.
He has moments of lucidity, moments where he knows something is horribly wrong, but those moments are slipping away under the onslaught of that gnawing hunger. He pounds at the door of his room - locked since they figured out what was going on - and calls out.]
Hey. Hey! Come on, let me out, guys. I'm fucking starving in here.
[He can still speak, at least. That's something, though his voice is cracked and rough and strange. But it's still a human voice, for now.]
[c: february 26th]
[Whatever lucidity Josh once has is gone, and he's no longer trapped, either. He's loose in the city with the others of his kind, hunting and stalking and hiding. The monsters in the caves aren't enough to sate a wendigo's hunger, though they can certainly try. In the end, though, it's flesh that he craves. That it craves, because this isn't a human anymore, and it certainly isn't Joshua Washington.
It stalks the streets, looking for motion, for the movement that signals prey. One sight is all it takes, because the hunger is a driving force that can't be ignored.
The wendigo, canny and careful, stalks the movement. It doesn't matter what sort of creature this is, so long that it can calm his hunger, his anger, for a moment or two.]
Josh Washington | Open
[It's not strange for Josh to be feeling kind of shitty. He's been feeling kind of shitty for a few weeks now - or a few months. Or maybe since that night on the mountain when his sisters disappeared. Anyway, a general shitty state is not abnormal for him, and especially not now, when his mind is clearing, when he can feel guilty about things he did.
But this is a different kind of shitty. He's irritable, he's hungry, he's weirdly sore, he's distractible - it's not the usual kind of shitty, the kind he's used to, the kind that he feels at the beginning of a slow downward spiral. The hunger is definitely new, anyway, usually he loses his appetite. But he can't quite seem to eat enough, or maybe it's just that he can't find what he wants.
He's in a store, going through the food supplies, looking at and discarding cans of vegetables, soup, pasta.]
Is this really all there is? Come on. This is shit.
[b: february 21st]
[It almost doesn't feel strange anymore. It almost feels normal. The physical changes are something to get used to, but it's like second nature, like something that isn't so very important compared to the hunger Josh feels, the anger he can't control. He can't see quite right anymore, there's something wrong with his eyes and his hands and most parts of him, but what matters is how hungry he is, and how it's everyone else's fault.
He has moments of lucidity, moments where he knows something is horribly wrong, but those moments are slipping away under the onslaught of that gnawing hunger. He pounds at the door of his room - locked since they figured out what was going on - and calls out.]
Hey. Hey! Come on, let me out, guys. I'm fucking starving in here.
[He can still speak, at least. That's something, though his voice is cracked and rough and strange. But it's still a human voice, for now.]
[c: february 26th]
[Whatever lucidity Josh once has is gone, and he's no longer trapped, either. He's loose in the city with the others of his kind, hunting and stalking and hiding. The monsters in the caves aren't enough to sate a wendigo's hunger, though they can certainly try. In the end, though, it's flesh that he craves. That it craves, because this isn't a human anymore, and it certainly isn't Joshua Washington.
It stalks the streets, looking for motion, for the movement that signals prey. One sight is all it takes, because the hunger is a driving force that can't be ignored.
The wendigo, canny and careful, stalks the movement. It doesn't matter what sort of creature this is, so long that it can calm his hunger, his anger, for a moment or two.]