Beastiary Beas - It Just GOES - Chapter 01
How do you describe someone like [XALA]? I mean you wouldn't for the most part, just another one, but it's the context they find themselves in which drives people to analyze and dissect every facet of their life. Perhaps to find something, a set of values and ideas that other men can apply to their own lives to arrive at the same conclusion. But aahhh, if that isn't the entire point of the design, eh?
[XALA] is a Human. Cis, a man, skinny, white and if you thought it couldn't get any less remarkable, well strap in folks: Brown hair and eyes. He grew up in a relatively mundane working class family, dad worked at the docks, mother as a receptionist, bobbing between relatives for babysitting duty. Diagnosed with… oohhh they can't remember, that was ages ago. There's actually a lot they don't remember about growing up, favourite shows or food or anything. People like [XALA] you see, they just… GO. They're wound up at birth then just keep going, long as there's the occasion chippy, Friday night telly, pub's open and maybe one or two holidays if they're feeling completely fucking insane, then they're good.
But ponder with me reader, maybe this is the secret sauce of the whole thing? For example he would just GO during his A-Levels and university. He got a 2:1 and during his time If anyone in his class was in trouble he'd help them with their work. Is this due to some kind of grand ideology? No just being well fucking alright innit? It's these crinkles on an otherwise unremarkable man that does it. Can direct a backing up van, but also can bake fairy cakes. Always makes time to celebrate the World Cup, but also preforms poetry at the end of the month, practised stitching, still collects Football Stickers.
I know this sounds like making a hobby of collecting stamps seem like a career in porn, but in the world of Humanity this is a transgression of the highest order when it comes to masculinity… Or is it? It's the crinkle again, if you transgress masculinity, but you do it in a really masculine way: Just going, then it still counts. All this is to say [XALA] could've lived a life as a OOOHHH LITTLE QUIRKY LIKE THE YOUNG ARE Human and coasted through life like that, but there was a problem and [XALA] would later find out his name was Caster.
He never could place what kind of Monster he was, though [XALA] would later learn he was a Nutria. He always caught his eye down at 're:V bar' at the end of the High Street, the bar [XALA] would find himself at the end of a night out. He had a few fits but the one he associates with Caster the most is his double denim look, with the little brown corduroy collar.
He always wanted to try and strike up a convo with Caster but something was surgically designed to distracted right at the apex. Like a fight kicking off, an old friend demanding their attention, that one time there was a stag due and a frigging conga line passed by and when they were done he was gone? You'd think some divine intervention was trying to stop them from speaking.
This just made [XALA] dig his heels in more. This is something he had to do, fates be damned. Like look, it's not like he wasn't fond of the company he's kept before but this is different. This is what they make landfill indie songs about, meeting someone in your orbit and they never leave your thinking mind...Y'know but like, gay.
Perhaps in a more drawn out modernism-y story, this would be the point [XALA] considers suppressing these feelings, considering the good standing he has within cis heteronormativity and Humanity in general. But oooohhh no he is down for that Monstrussy baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad. But it makes sense right? A man who just GOES his whole life, why wouldn't this just be another thing he went for? Why would it be different? (Aaaahh, the bubble of ignorance cis dude privilege can give you)
He starts to head towards Caster, he can sense people trying to come up and talk to him: NO! He comically pushes them out of the way as he speeds towards the Monster and as he arrives:
-[XALA]!!!!!! He shouts, to a startled Caster. As in me, that's me that's my name, hello.
He goes to sit in the empty space next to Caster as he laughs along amused that this was the way he finally breaks the ice. The two get properly introduced, it would appear [XALA] was as much an intrigue to the Nutria as he was to the Human. He doesn't think it's safe to go for Humans typically, but Caster asserts [XALA] has Monster Energy, suggesting he's about to pop his tail any second. [XALA]'s not even resistant to the idea, after all he just GOES and whatever happens on this crazy journey of life; happens.
He offers to get Caster this round of drinks as he starts to head towards the bar, eeeeee this is going so well! Cos he had caught it: "I don't usually go for Humans..." I mean there it was, straight up admittance this was A Thing. [XALA] was so relived, honestly he's never macked on anyone outside of cis women before and had no idea how to navigate any of that, so he's glad he got the get out of jail free card this time.
As he heads to the bar however, he shoves into another patron and feels a little prick in his shoulder. He turns to face whoever that was and to [XALA]'s surprise it was a face he recognised. Not because this dude had a look of any renown, but he had bumped into him before, many a times in fact. Now that [XALA] thought about it, all the times he was distracted from walking to Caster this was the guy who was around. The one who thought he recognised him from school, that asked him for a ciggy and hey, he was the one leading the conga line that time. In all instances he seemed like just a local on a night out, but this time he stared at [XALA] with complete venom.
This worrying glare followed a tingling in the arm where he felt the prick, a tingling, followed by a surge of heat, stinging, burning even, sizzling? [XALA] could even smell a faint tinge of burn. Then the pain followed, an incomprehensible wave, more pain then [XALA] had collectively felt in his life up to this point. Without even checking he started to run to the outside hoping in vain the cold night air would nurse this agony, but to no avail.
He stumbled into the alley that lied at the end of the terrace of buildings re:V Bar belonged to as he finally looked at his left arm. He could not parse what his eyes where perceiving, the pain was bad but... There's no way, how was this happened? He bore witness to the very skin and muscle on his arm melt away from the very bone, as it slowly gives way to gravity. Now it must be stressed this isn't the typically Humanity affair, where the very lie that is their existence melts into Humanity: A translucent white substance. No this was happening within the confines of Humanity somehow. This was real flesh, muscle and blood dripping in clumps leaving only **[XALA]**s skeletal arm, which was somehow still operating on it's own.
As if the very sight and acceptance of this currently reality acted as a trigger, [XALA] started to feel his leg wobble as the same sizzling sensation started to overcome them, as he fellas face-first into the pavement. Not with a thud of the body, but with a splash of something barely holding together, coming apart at the seams.
Even to look up during this state, [XALA] can feel not all of his face follows him to meet his gaze. But he can sense someone standing over his sorry state. He can only barely make out the silhouette, as a great shining light beams from behind it obfuscating the details. But he recognised enough, this was the man he kept bumping into inside the bar, the one who pricked his arm and started this. Maybe his sense were leaving him, but he swears he can make out the faint outline of wings from behind him, indeed a few grey feathers were falling from his person.
―Such a shame this was my little subject, you were one of my greatest assets. The figure explains. You were a beacon to all men around you, you kept them motivated, you were an example of how if they just retained their Humanity that they could compete! Lest they lose their chance to lead a life that resembled yours. The success, the women, the ability to just GO. No trifling ideas of liberation from our millennium kingdom, complete obedience in order to bathe in your light. If they ever found out you were fraternising with the Filth, which was bad enough, but homosexually no less? What a great loss to the Humane cause.
The figure then lifts his hand to the skies, extending his two finger, as the light behind him intensifies.
―And thus you must be destroyed, not killed of course, but eliminated in such display it could only have been done by something inhumane. It'll keep the idea of YOU intact and make Humans more paranoid, of their perfect life being taken away by the Filth. Even those who do see through the ruse? A harsh reminder of what lies at the end of sin and deviance. This is for your own good Son of Man, as the Filth said, you were on your way to becoming impure anyways.
[XALA] of course could not reply, retort or even inquire to anything he was wearing, the parts of the body required to do so were already fusing between the spaces in the bricks that the puddle that was himself now covered. But despite this, he tried to strike out against the figure before he could deliver the finishing blow. Luckily, a tendril consisting of what was once his skeleton pierced the figure's shoulder, interrupting his action.
With this chance, he tried to hoist his mass away from the scene, exceedingly difficult as sloshing all himself at a direction, didn't guarantee that he brought any part of him that could visually see to his surface, or anywhere that was helpful. His sense of touch was faint, but Not Actively Falling or Melting was all he had to go on to get to safety.
In a stroke of luck he managed to squeeze into a small opening of a van making it's way out of town. What was it like, what was inside and where was it going? These are cognitions that [XALA] no longer had the privilege of accessing. All he knew he was safe, contained and moving. He prayed this meant he was moving to somewhere far away from where he was. But even these thoughts, or the ability to make them, was fading away. To be a consciousness, to have BEEN, even this was being taken away from him. He knows he did all he could, he embraces darkness, it was all in fortunes hand now, all he could do is keep GOING.
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