[ It's not the first time that Claude has found himself a little fluffier than usual. Ever since completing that bizarre survey, he's been experiencing episodes like this: furry, animal ears where there were previously human ones, heightened smell, speed and claws as sharp as knives.
It was alarming and uncomfortable, but hadn't been particularly detrimental so far. The new sights and smells had been something to get used to, and he was a little more... physical than normal, but for the most part he was able to slink away and wait it out.
Tonight is different. He'd woken up suddenly, itchy and irritable, finding his mood soothed only by running across the shore like his life depended on it, chasing something that he couldn't quite grasp. (Belonging, territory—) And while the run settled the itch under his skin, it also made him feel... far away. Each step dulling the logic and reason that normally governed him. Silencing the human part of himself and letting something else fill the space.
And now, something is here. Something encroaching in his space, and when Sylvain approaches, he lets out a low growl to warn him off.
Sylvain says something in response. Claude doesn't quite catch it, but it irritates him (he's standing too tall, too presumptuous, no sign of submission) and when Sylvain tries to leave, Claude zeroes in on the movement like a shark to blood.
He doesn't think before moving. Doesn't formulate a plan of attack just goes on instinct, lunging to cross the distance between them, claws aimed to take a swipe at Sylvain's legs. Something in his head making sense of this, telling him that even if Claude doesn't finish him off, an injury like that will leave a beast as good as dead. ]
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It was alarming and uncomfortable, but hadn't been particularly detrimental so far. The new sights and smells had been something to get used to, and he was a little more... physical than normal, but for the most part he was able to slink away and wait it out.
Tonight is different. He'd woken up suddenly, itchy and irritable, finding his mood soothed only by running across the shore like his life depended on it, chasing something that he couldn't quite grasp. (Belonging, territory—) And while the run settled the itch under his skin, it also made him feel... far away. Each step dulling the logic and reason that normally governed him. Silencing the human part of himself and letting something else fill the space.
And now, something is here. Something encroaching in his space, and when Sylvain approaches, he lets out a low growl to warn him off.
Sylvain says something in response. Claude doesn't quite catch it, but it irritates him (he's standing too tall, too presumptuous, no sign of submission) and when Sylvain tries to leave, Claude zeroes in on the movement like a shark to blood.
He doesn't think before moving. Doesn't formulate a plan of attack just goes on instinct, lunging to cross the distance between them, claws aimed to take a swipe at Sylvain's legs. Something in his head making sense of this, telling him that even if Claude doesn't finish him off, an injury like that will leave a beast as good as dead. ]