Orochi hopped excitedly on the table, squawking loudly to cheer the horse-sized wolf as it ripped off the Serial Killer's head and ate it, then proceeded to (far from skillfully) devour the man's corpse. How thrilling!! He hadn't expected this development at all. This level of camaraderie was extremely rare in the Storyteller Games, particularly in Stories (such as this one) that were designed to create discord among the participants. Just why was this participant so attached to the Sickly Boy in her group? What was it about the kid that had led her to grow so fond of him so quickly, that she would take the risks she did just to save him and then grow so outraged over his death?
Questions and observations and theories were running wild in his head. That's it! he mentally declared. I am officially her #1 fanboy. This girl has to win these Games!! I want to meet her!
He wasn't the only one having these kinds of thoughts, either. Several Viewers shouted their support for the various members of Alesha's group. Some advocated, "Jasper, the Saintly Bodybuilder!" while others cheered for, "CJ, the Engine Behind it All!"
Enthusiasm wasn't the only response to their group's unity, however. One individual in particular was exceptionally displeased. While he had initially been furious with the participants in that group (as they were pushing the limits of their roles' definitions to the extreme), Zorhellian's ire dissipated when he observed the crowds of Viewers. "I suppose it's good for a surprise to blow through every once in a while," he muttered through clenched teeth. He was still annoyed. There wasn't nearly enough pain and death among that group. In the face of these thrilled crowds, however, he found it more convenient to allow their misdemeanors to slide.
As soon as the crowd's enthusiasm for their camaraderie died, however… a wide, shark-toothed grin divided his face in two, beady purple eyes narrowed to slits. Snip! Would go the trimming shears, the very second the opportune moment arrived.
----
Alesha shifted groggily, sliding her furry head across the grass a few inches as she did so. Since she was unaccustomed to her current, feral form, the sensation of something dragging across her throat (even if it was through a layer of fur and the touch itself was rather light) startled her. She yelped loudly, jolting to all fours, and looked around, searching for danger. Attempting to speak, she said, "What is it? Who's there? What are you doing to me?"
All CJ heard was a series of garbled yowls, yips and barks. "Morning, sleepyhead! Feeling talkative, are we?" He called as he braided long strands of grass together in an attempt to make rope.
"Yeah, I guess! Sorry about that, guess I startled myself awake somehow, haha."
More yips and yowls.
"Hey Alesha, it kinda seems like you don't realize it," he said, pausing his work just long enough to meet her eyes, "But you kinda aren't speaking 'human' right now. I don't understand Werewolf."
Alesha's jaw dropped and she felt super embarrassed. Reflexively, she tried to respond, "Ah, um, I didn't realize --" before cutting off part of the way through, when she finally heard her own voice for what it was instead of what she was trying to say. She shut her jaw and laid her head down on her front paws in defeat, whining.
Turns out, being stuck as a feral version of a Werewolf was going to be super annoying. Not only that, but it hadn't even been worth it. Tristen… Tristen had still… tears started to leak from her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision.
CJ noticed this and set down his work. He snapped his fingers to get her attention, then squatted down in front of her oversized, canine head. "Hey! What's that mopey face for? You did it! You got there in time! Tristen is still alive!"
Alesha's ears perked up and she raised her head, looking around. She sniffed at the air, stood, and followed a certain scent -- there! He had been just barely out of her field of vision, laid out on a flat stone underneath some shade. The grass and shrubs within a couple meters of the stone he was on had been cleared away and his wounds had been washed. Torn strips of cloth were wrapped around the worst of his wounds, while banana leaves and mud had been used to seal smaller ones.
"I'm not really any good at first aid," CJ apologized. "But I tried. Hopefully when the Story changes, they'll use magic to heal anyone who survived in an injured state."
Alesha looked at him with respect, admiring his attitude. He'd been a great help today. Thinking back, actually, he had been a leading figure in the group's success from the very start, carefully guiding everyone towards making constructive decisions. Standing there topless, having used his own shirt for Tristen's wounds, CJ looked like he could be a model for a Hero sculpture somewhere.
She nodded in appreciation for his actions. Then she padded up next to the stone on which Tristen lay, settling down beside it. There wasn't much she could do for him while in this form, but she wanted to be near him.
Her nose twitched, feeling itchy, and following an instinct she didn't know she had, she extended her tongue and licked it. Something flaky, tasting vaguely of iron… dried blood! Ahk! A series of memories from earlier flooded her mind and she felt a complicated mix of embarrassment, revulsion, and… was that fondness? Was that right?! Did that mean she'd actually enjoyed brutalizing and eating the man who'd been cursed with the Serial Killer role?!
She stood up quickly, strode to the river, then plunged in, swimming a ways off before rolling, splashing and shaking herself lots in an attempt to clean herself. She even dove to the bottom and rubbed against the rocks and silt there to make extra certain -- because NOPE. There was no way she had enjoyed engaging in what was pretty close to cannibalism, none at all. Washing away the blood on her fur would clearly wash away all the memories with it, and after that, she would be just fine.
At least, that's what she told herself.