[center][h2][color=b284be]Damon Howard[/color][/h2][/center][hr][hr]Theirs was the last performance before the main ceremony. It was a sort of preview of the ritual, except they acted out the other side of it. The unruly demons to be subjugated, the lake waters to be calmed, then the flames cavorting atop the waters and in the skies.

It was mostly through music, dance, and body language that they conveyed the play to their audience. Scant lines were spoken or sung – though those few were all the more poignant and memorable for it.

The beginning was ominous, creeping; the waters surged and spilled, bringing forth with it monstrous beings.

Some in the background played the scared villagers, dressed in outdated casual wear. The lake were several people, dressed in robes shaded a multitude of greens, blues, and even dark purples. The remaining few were the demons; wearing thick furry hides, gruesome masks covering their faces.

The villagers were chased away. The robed folk spun and spun; a devouring whirlpool which would take and take. In the middle, the monsters; waiting, stalking, pushing the water’s edge further out. 

The circle of robes widened until person by person, they dispersed offstage. 

The harbingers of doom left to their own devices. They stomped, and they ruined; heavy boots thumping across the wooden floorboards as they danced. It was a facsimile of chaos; practiced coordination giving rise to something seemingly unpredictable. Something dangerous. Low, growling hums accompanied it; a wordless song of discontent.

But then, something changed; a procession arrived, and with it, a transition in the music. Two rows of darkly clothed people came on; pair by pair. Monks, each with a khakkhara of their own. Clearly ringing; neat and orderly. A chanting started; from an inaudible murmur, gradually rising in volume.

The numerous priests accomplished what in reality, Freyja was supposed to (believed to) do. The actual sealing procession was considered far too sacred to be mimicked in a play. Thus, it’d been replaced with something similar.

Strange, wasn’t it? When even for the most superstitious, including monsters wasn’t too much?

But then again, maybe the creatures were too fantastical, after all – or imagined so differently, that it was fine.

As all good endings require, evil was vanquished. The devils fled. The monks, then, could leave too.

The full moon watched, still and silent.

Then, the actors returned, now all robed. What followed was the most intricate scene yet; a fabulous finale. 

Some wore the blue-greens of the lake, others the fiery orange-reds of light. They swayed and they danced; but then, when some held hands, the roles switched. They turned over their clothing, the other side bearing different colours. The effect was mesmerizing, as roles changed at a moment’s notice. 

When it was all over, they were met with thunderous applause. Faces shining with awe, exhilaration, pure joy.
That was one of the best feelings in the world, Damon thought.

He was just as jubilant to attend the actual ceremony even as only an observer, however. The ritual of it resonated somewhere deep inside.

But then, something went [i]wrong[/i], and it all started feeling [i]unreal[/i].

Even though he’d been so absorbed in it that he’d genuinely felt it was all true – the demons, the sealing – he couldn’t help but think–

[color=b284be][i]Wasn’t this…just a story?[/i][/color]

He broke into a cold sweat, and shivered. Goosebumps formed over all his body, and he rubbed his naked arms. The knowledge that something went terribly, dreadfully [i]awry[/i] brought with it shock and horror.

But then the [i]song[/i] appeared.

First, it seemed just like one voice; now deep, then high. But no, it was a multitude; a whole chorus.
Damon couldn’t tear his gaze away from the fantastical scene occurring atop the lake. He was aghast and amazed at once. Unknowingly, he took a hesitant step forward– 

Then he was swallowed up by the water, managing one last panicked breath…But he didn’t hold out for long.

[center]***[/center]
He gasped, and found himself half-submerged in an otherworldly lake. The air was so clear, it was almost too sharp; the water so pure, he wondered if it really was just water.

He coughed and spluttered, and dragged himself out. He looked wildly around, and saw all sorts of unbelievable things. Various beings; familiar as they were not. He saw Odaya the crow looking up.

Looked up himself.

Saw a dragon.

And was left gaping open-mouthed.

It took some time for anything else to enter his awareness. When something did, it was David’s question. [color=b284be]“Missing?”[/color] he questioned hysterically. [color=b284be]“[i]We[/i] are the missing ones.”[/color][@Conscripts]

He sighed tremulously, and looked down. His gaze settled on the lake, and almost numbly, he took in the changes to his own form.

His hair was now longer, pitch black but with (super?)natural highlights of blood red. Elongated, pointed ears peeked through. His canines were sharper, too. A pair of ivory white horns curled from atop his forehead. His pupils were slit – like a cat’s, or some snakes’ – and his irises were [i]so strange[/i]. There were all sorts of colours there. Each time he tilted his head or tried to take a closer look, they shifted. It took a few flashes of silver – the only consistent thing – for him to realize that they reflected the environmental hues. He went to brush through his thicker mane, but was stopped by two things.

One. His fingernails were now matte black and clawed. 

Two. There were these strange broken up lines on his (still pale) skin; spidery, thin, light gray – barely visible, but definitely there.

Like cracks seeping through.

A part of him was tempted to lift up his shirt to check how far they spread.

The other part [i]didn’t want to know.[/i]

[color=b284be][i]What the fuck?[/i][/color] he thought wildly.

And also, [color=b284be][i]At least it’s not on my face?![/i][/color]

Shifting to sit on his knees, Damon went to splash some water on his face. [color=b284be]“Gods…”[/color] he muttered.

Finally, he tried picking himself up. But something was [i]off[/i]. His shoes felt uncomfortably tight. There was an ominous scratching sound as he moved.

Suspicion arising, he took off his sneakers.

Yeah. His feet bore claws too, now.

And his socks were ruined. Great.

Hearing Ambrose’s remark, Damon snorted. [color=b284be]“…I could use some nail clippers, here,”[/color] he snarked.[@psych0pomp]

Then he shot another look at the [i]dragon[/i]. [color=b284be]“Seems chill,”[/color] he commented to no one in particular.