[Solo] A Worm’s Eye View
Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2022 3:40 am
32nd of Glade
Vivian wiggled his toes in the lawn, smiling contentedly. He was improving; his body was starting to fill out a little from consistent food. He couldn’t count his own ribs anymore and he was finally feeling like he didn’t have to bolt every meal he got. When he first arrived on Veir Socorro’s estate in Amoren, he’d not taken a thing for granted. He’d bolted every meal down to the crumb, often licking his plate clean, and sneaking down to the kitchen if only to reassure himself that breakfast was a sure thing.
He managed to sleep through the entire night now. The servant’s quarters were always busy and the consistent ebb and flow of people bothered him. He was used to finding alleyways where he didn’t have to be bothered, or sleeping deep in piles of garbage where the only thing nibbling at him would be the occasional rat. He wasn’t used to people getting up, scrubbing floors, taking everyone’s laundry, or even the consistent noises of people cooking. Vivian hadn’t been given directions on what to do, so he’d thrown himself into two things: his studies and getting information on the Veir.
The first was easy enough. He spent time with Bara, cleaning the mule’s feet or riding him around the grounds and memorizing his form. He wanted to try something different today, and that was what the Veir’s books described as Warging. Vivian’s grasp on his letters was slowly getting stronger, and it still took him hours to get more than a few pages, but he’d been able to read a paragraph on Warging. That was apparently the skill a Malformity mage had to look through the eyes of a creature and see the world as it did. That had a myriad of different applications from spy work to biology.
Vivian was wary of trying it on Bara. He didn’t want to risk hurting his friend, as Warging seemed to imply that one was inside the animal’s head. It seemed quite close to Mentalism in that regard, and Vivian wanted to try it on a creature that he wasn’t so emotionally attached to. Preferably one that wouldn’t be too scared by the experience. He’d keep it short the first time, if only to spare the unfortunate animal the presence of the whore in his head.
He looked around the garden. He found a frog minding its own business, and ignored it. He was fairly sure the hopping would make him nauseous. The various flying insects had the same reasoning; the drunken flying of a bee would make anyone ill. No, he needed something steady and slow moving that would help him adjust to the idea without losing the form and without damaging the animal. Vivian sat down on the lawn, ignoring the feeling of dew seeping through his pants, and sifted through the grass blades. Perhaps a beetle? He couldn’t find one.
He caught a glimpse of something wet and slow-moving in the grass to his right. A worm? He peered closer at it. It was slimy and flat, mostly black with creamy bands spaced along its length. At its head was a broad protrusion, much like a gingko leaf or the blade of a dough cutting knife, that blushed red. It slid along the grass slowly on a trail of mucus much like a snail, but infinitely faster. Vivian stared at it.
“What a beautiful little thing…” he mumbled, laying on his stomach and resting his chin on the grass so he could look at it properly. It’s body was gelatinous and seemed to flatten out to study its terrain. It was about a foot in length, as wide as two of his fingers put together, and had tiny photosensitive spots that Vivian gathered could be eyes. Well…he’d found a candidate. Vivian extended out his fingers, and let the creature crawl onto his palm. It was warm and wet, and Vivian made sure to support the little thing properly as he held it. He closed his eyes.
He had to extend himself into the animal. He had to embody it, not as a controller but as a passenger in the animal’s mind. He could feel how…alien the form was. This worm was a hermaphrodite, both male and female. It had a twin pair of brains, both connecting to two nerve cords that ran down the length of its body, each connected to the eye spots on either end of that half moon shaped head. There was so much muscle in this animal, coated by mucus and sliding along its formless shape. Muscle, not bone, kept everything in place. Vivian found it fascinating. He pressed further. The mind of the worm didn’t think like a man. There was no…linear path of thought. It was all feeling.
The worm liked the warmth of his palm. It extended a branched tongue along his skin in greeting. Prey? No. Not big enough to digest and covered in tough skin. It licked away the salt on his flesh with its strange mouthparts, like the roots of a tree that could be expelled along his flesh in an instant. It was so…erotic in its way. The worm was feeling him out, spreading delicate, branching sections of its slimy tongue along his palm. It’s interest waned, Vivian’s hand being neither prey nor mate, and it slid off his skin into the grass.
The grass was prickly. Vivian felt it crawling along his skin as though it were he slithering on the grass. The worm was hungry. It liked the shade Vivian provided. Darkness and wetness was safe. Sun was death. Vivian felt light above him. He couldn’t see images, as the worm didn’t truly have eyes the way a cat or man might. He could see light, a little color, but more importantly he could smell meat.
The worm crawled along, away from Vivian, picking up on a mucus trail. It spread that white, branched tongue along the trail, lapping it up. Vivian felt it turn to follow, and the worm was…excited. It was a cool morning and it’s gut was empty. Vivian lay motionless on the grass, imbedded and engrossed in the thoughts of the worm. He was glad he had chosen a simple animal; the amount of information was astounding. Light, scent, feeling. The worm travelled the world mostly blind but not ignorantly.
Finally, it caught up to the other worm. A little lick. Not prey. Another of its kind. Vivian felt it pull up alongside the other worm. They rose up off the grass, showing each other power and strength. They were twin columns of muscle in the lawn, each touching the other with ginger, unsure flicks of that white tongue. The other was smaller. Vivian felt contact. His worm wound slowly around the other, probing for its opening. A chance to pass on genetic material. Who knew when a mate would happen again? The other worm flexed, and slid out of his grasp wetly, gliding out of his embrace. Vivian’s worm had a crackle of frustration, and tried again. The other worm attempted to flee. Perhaps it was too small to form eggs. Perhaps it was too young to mate.
Either way, if it didn’t consent to being held down and impregnated…Vivian’s worm turned to the other need in its mind.
Mouthparts shot out and entangled the other worm’s head in its grasp. Neurotoxins, powerful enough to paralyze prey and predators alike, seeped through the other worm’s skin. The worm turned itself upside down, trying to show Vivian’s worm a small slit on its underside, but that moment had passed. Vivian felt his worm’s mouth opening, spreading wide as it’s tongue yanked the other worm toward it. Fresh meat, squirming and alive, but swiftly stilling with the poison, slid along his mouth and down his gullet. Vivian’s worm pulled the other mightily, sucking it down with its own mucus as lubrication.
His gut filled with warm, living flesh. The other worm was sliding down, into his expanding stomach. It was twitching, still vainly trying to escape. No, far too late for that. Far, far too late. Vivian’s worm closed its mouth around the tail of the other worm, and folded its tongue back inside of its mouth. The other worm was settled in its belly now. Vivian’s worm slithered into the safety of deeper grass, into darkness and protection. Vivian could feel it contented, with the spots of light fading with each blade of grass that passed over its head.
There was the meat in his belly, waking now. It squirmed, bucking and fighting its fate. It was excreting poison of its own, but that was useless now. Vivian felt the hapless prey struggle, but each passing moment without oxygen was deadly. Finally, it lay still, dead, and he could feel his worm’s mind go still. It was content and happy, or at least as much as a worm could feel happiness. It was safe in this cocoon of grass and dew.
A booming brought Vivian’s worm alert again. Predator. Have to move. Have to find safer spot. Have to keep meat. Grow bigger. Safety. Sound louder now. Not safe. Louder. Not safe. Poison flooding over its skin. Not safe. Not safe not safe not sa-
Vivian’s eyes shot open as he was slammed back into his own mind. He was breathing rapidly, the worm’s last terrified thoughts snapping back in his own mind. His heart was thrumming in his throat and he whipped his head around, seeing Bara lift his foot and sniff at something on the grass.
“Bara! Don’t!” Vivian cried, scrambling to his feet. Right. He had limbs now. He shook off the worm and stumbled over to the squashed corpse of the worm in the grass, and the curious mule who had killed it browsing for coltsfoot. He sighed and stood up, patting the mule. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean to.” He muttered, rubbing at his forehead. He didn’t seem to be able to control animals when Warging…but it wasn’t something to be taken lightly either.
