Zarthor563

“Counting myself, my pack was comprised of six members,” the wolf parasite began, his voice somehow taking on the timbre of an English professor beginning a lecture. “Hold on!” Raf interrupted. “You can’t just drop a bomb like that and then nonchalantly change the subject! “I’m not changing the subject, host mine. I am merely beginning...at the beginning. Unlike someone who chose to start in the middle.” Raf pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course he got the uppity parasite. Cause why not, right? “What did you mean when you said I named you?” “Exactly that, Rafael. My sense of self before our joining was limited; I knew when I was hungry, and I knew when I was tired; I knew our den in the same way I recognized the pack: by sight and scent. That said den was part and parcel of a larger forest is not a connection I was capable of making. I knew only that we lived in a place of many trees, grass and greenery, and that this particular bit of it

"I've never liked needles," Raf began, pushing his glasses up the ridge of his nose, then clasping his hands together and twiddling his thumbs. He was sitting in his room in front of a mirror, his altered eyes still a shock to see. So he closed them. And he began again. Dr. Thompson had said it would help, back when he'd been fitted for his collar, to get this out in the open; to try and get on even footing with his new tenant. And if he was to meet with the head of the Tamed's public relations office later, he desperately needed some peace of mind. So he tried, eyes still still closed. "I've never liked needles," he said softly, voice low but not quite yet a whisper. "They're cold, and they hurt. They tell you it won't; that it's just a prick, there in gone in moment. 'You won't feel a thing!'" "But it's a lie." Raf shuddered. "When a needle touches you, it's a slow, methodical piercing. You feel every inch of the violation: it sets your nerves on fire