Red Hood [Part 2]
Mar. 21st, 2021 10:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
esp_dragonv2Fandom: Noblesse
Summary: Red hoods were a symbol in the Union. M-21 just didn't know what for. It doesn't matter - what does matter is that some bastard in a forest decided to bite him and M-21 doesn't like how it's affecting him.
Notes: Little Red Riding Hood au
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General
Total word count: 704
Total word count: 951
Status: Work in progress
M-21 stumbled through the forest, still grasping his oozing wound. His skin itched underneath his palm, under his skin and he wanted to tear right through it, rip it all off so it would stop fucking screaming for his attention where he couldn’t get to it. M-21 dug his fingers in as hard as he could instead, taking a breath when he felt his transformation squeezing out. He didn’t know what the fuck was in that poison, but it had made his transformation responsive. Too responsive. He didn’t even have to think about them and the claws started sliding out, ready to cut. The poison had made him lose control over himself and that wasn’t something he couldn’t afford, not when he was nearly at the checkpoint.
M-21 broke through the tree line and held still as all heads turned to him. Only only person kept his attention on him and M-21 walked over to her.
He didn’t get a chance to start making his report when the scientist reached over and tugged his hand away from the bite. Years of being handled by scientists meant he let go automatically, keeping his hand limp.
The closeness made something at the back of M-21 mind rear up and take notice though, rumbling in warning. He stiffened, his throat almost echoing the sound.
The scientist glanced at him, frowning. “Did you scrape your hand?”
…What?
The scientist pursed her lips and M-21 scrambled for an answer, shoving whatever was happening in his head back down again. “Yeah, just a scrape.” Don’t argue with scientists, just go along with whatever their assumptions were. It made things a lot easier if they came up with their own lies for him.
She tsk’ed, letting him go. “You shouldn’t have wiped your blood over the cloak.” He was too busy being bitten to prioritise the fucking cloak and of course that’s all they cared about. “Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.’ He did as he was told.
She turned away to fetch someone else and M-21 swallowed, keeping his hands by his sides. He was in danger, in enemy territory, and everyone around him was someone who would hurt him if he stepped wrong.
He knew all that already. Was used to it.
The thing inside his head wasn’t, and it bristled at every movement, every sound, and M-21 fought to keep his transformation in check, breathing as evenly as he could.
The bastard had mind controlled him. Except M-21 knew what mind control felt like, and this wasn’t it. Mind control as someone punching him in the face and making him do something he didn’t want to; this was something aware inside his head, seeing through his eyes. A wolf. He got the impression of flashed fangs and claws whenever someone stepped too close and the growl was a constant drone inside his head.
It wrapped itself around his mind, M-21 could feel it. There was no fog, no suggestion to go along with it and M-21 frowned, keeping track of his thoughts. Nothing had changed, as far as he could tell.
It was just there. In his head. Curled up like…it wanted to protect him.
That couldn’t be right.
But it wasn’t responding to him, only things he perceived as a threat.
He peered at the scientists around him through his hair. No-one was paying him any attention so he glanced at the wound, wanting to see the worst of the damage. Maybe his clothes had covered it, or she’d only looked at the cloak.
There was still blood, sticky now, and he had to peel his top away from his skin.
And…
That was it. It looked like he’d smeared blood all over his shoulder, his skin unbroken and smooth. He pressed his hand down on it again, knowing where the contours of the injury had been, where it had pressed up against his palm, but it wasn’t an illusion. His skin had just sealed over, like nothing had happened. Except the buzzing under his skin was still there, promising it had actually happened, like a reminder that wouldn’t leave.
Inside his mind, the wolf growled, pleased with itself, and… Shit. What else was going to happen to him now?
Summary: Red hoods were a symbol in the Union. M-21 just didn't know what for. It doesn't matter - what does matter is that some bastard in a forest decided to bite him and M-21 doesn't like how it's affecting him.
Notes: Little Red Riding Hood au
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General
Total word count: 704
Total word count: 951
Status: Work in progress
M-21 stumbled through the forest, still grasping his oozing wound. His skin itched underneath his palm, under his skin and he wanted to tear right through it, rip it all off so it would stop fucking screaming for his attention where he couldn’t get to it. M-21 dug his fingers in as hard as he could instead, taking a breath when he felt his transformation squeezing out. He didn’t know what the fuck was in that poison, but it had made his transformation responsive. Too responsive. He didn’t even have to think about them and the claws started sliding out, ready to cut. The poison had made him lose control over himself and that wasn’t something he couldn’t afford, not when he was nearly at the checkpoint.
M-21 broke through the tree line and held still as all heads turned to him. Only only person kept his attention on him and M-21 walked over to her.
He didn’t get a chance to start making his report when the scientist reached over and tugged his hand away from the bite. Years of being handled by scientists meant he let go automatically, keeping his hand limp.
The closeness made something at the back of M-21 mind rear up and take notice though, rumbling in warning. He stiffened, his throat almost echoing the sound.
The scientist glanced at him, frowning. “Did you scrape your hand?”
…What?
The scientist pursed her lips and M-21 scrambled for an answer, shoving whatever was happening in his head back down again. “Yeah, just a scrape.” Don’t argue with scientists, just go along with whatever their assumptions were. It made things a lot easier if they came up with their own lies for him.
She tsk’ed, letting him go. “You shouldn’t have wiped your blood over the cloak.” He was too busy being bitten to prioritise the fucking cloak and of course that’s all they cared about. “Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.’ He did as he was told.
She turned away to fetch someone else and M-21 swallowed, keeping his hands by his sides. He was in danger, in enemy territory, and everyone around him was someone who would hurt him if he stepped wrong.
He knew all that already. Was used to it.
The thing inside his head wasn’t, and it bristled at every movement, every sound, and M-21 fought to keep his transformation in check, breathing as evenly as he could.
The bastard had mind controlled him. Except M-21 knew what mind control felt like, and this wasn’t it. Mind control as someone punching him in the face and making him do something he didn’t want to; this was something aware inside his head, seeing through his eyes. A wolf. He got the impression of flashed fangs and claws whenever someone stepped too close and the growl was a constant drone inside his head.
It wrapped itself around his mind, M-21 could feel it. There was no fog, no suggestion to go along with it and M-21 frowned, keeping track of his thoughts. Nothing had changed, as far as he could tell.
It was just there. In his head. Curled up like…it wanted to protect him.
That couldn’t be right.
But it wasn’t responding to him, only things he perceived as a threat.
He peered at the scientists around him through his hair. No-one was paying him any attention so he glanced at the wound, wanting to see the worst of the damage. Maybe his clothes had covered it, or she’d only looked at the cloak.
There was still blood, sticky now, and he had to peel his top away from his skin.
And…
That was it. It looked like he’d smeared blood all over his shoulder, his skin unbroken and smooth. He pressed his hand down on it again, knowing where the contours of the injury had been, where it had pressed up against his palm, but it wasn’t an illusion. His skin had just sealed over, like nothing had happened. Except the buzzing under his skin was still there, promising it had actually happened, like a reminder that wouldn’t leave.
Inside his mind, the wolf growled, pleased with itself, and… Shit. What else was going to happen to him now?