Vanishing in figures.

I'm not a pantysniffer. I'm not a pervert.

When do I become this... superhero?

[plot] Lovecraft: Monster.
Simon Bellamy forhisfriends
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Somewhere in the Abandoned Warehouse District, Early Sunday Evening
Simon hadn't really slept for two days. Definitely not since early yesterday morning, when he'd found himself in possession of the beginning of a tail and a rapidly deteriorating mental state that kept whispering to him about power and pathetic little psycho freaks. He'd done the only thing he'd been able to think of to protect... everyone, and taken himself as far away from everyone as he could.

That had taken him to the old warehouse district, where he'd spent the day getting increasingly agitated, flickering into invisibility and back again, fighting the urge to find people and creatures and hurt them, losing more and more of himself to the other inside.

And even when he'd felt it start to subside, he hadn't been able to go back, hadn't been able to sleep. Too exhausted to think it was over, when he still looked like a monster. Felt like one. The beginning of a tail was gone, but his skin was still mostly gray, his eyes still pitch black. So he'd walked and he'd walked, invisible.

But by now it was the exhaustion that was making his head spin, and he was finally hitting a limit. Turning visible, he sank down to sit by a wall and wondered if he'd ever feel human again.

[ooc: Largely 'stablishy, but can be open if there's anyone else in this part of town, sure!]


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