Radio audio, evening.

[firstsoldier]

[It's that guy again! He still sounds pleasant at least.]

I wish to make a suggestion that we find ways to make ourselves... visibly identifiable even when in monstrous forms, as members of the convoy and thus ideally not a marauding wild beast even if we are acting like one. Something beyond our often hidden sigils, that an unthinking creature is unlikely to imitate. What exactly, I am open to recommendations for. I suspect friend-or-foe ID chips might be beyond what this place is capable of.

[The rest sounds extremely reluctant.]

I don't have as much control of the ... thing ... I become as I would like, and though I am reasonably sure I can keep from doing serious intentional harm to allies, I can't guarantee my behavior might not match that of a feral creature and thus seem to be a viable target for hunting. Especially as it seems intent on establishing a ... pecking order, and aggressively.

... I suspect I'm not the only one who has such concerns. These changes are uncomfortably unpredictable.

Comments

[firstsoldier]

[Nothing of Serph's bearing suggests challenge, and there's nothing immediately near that needs defending; slowly he works on strangling down all the impulses and instincts that made this unpleasant at best.

It's hard. Especially as there's the smell of other distant monsters on the night wind, painfully reminding him that the meals he bothered with were simply insufficient now.]

... Yes. Not easily.

[It's rough and slurred, but recognizable. Conflict between syrinx and larynx, different ways of making sounds. And the teeth on display when he grimaces probably doesn't help, those are distinctly feline teeth in a strangely flexible reptilian muzzle. Trying to speak like a human just isn't going to work right.]

I still have my mind. For now.

[Just not human thoughts or habits. Sephiroth rarely looked at anyone directly, but like this, Serph's watched with an unblinking, assessing stare.]

[bufudine]

[Serph matches the watchful gaze with his own calm one.]

But blood makes it difficult to keep control?

[He knows all too well how blood whets his demon's alreadly insatiable appetite. How the scent of it has Varuna rattling in the cage of his body, the vision of teeth sinking into warm flesh crystal clear in his mind's eye. As hunger grows, so too does the strength to resist it wane.

Carefully, he watches Sephiroth's reaction to his following question.]

Does the thought of eating other monsters sound good?

[firstsoldier]

It does. A shameful thing. We are not beasts.

[The war between foreign instinct and the reason and control required since he was a small child is endless, merely easier when in a more human shape. It never really went away but like this, even the idea of a meal is an incredible temptation.

More of one than he can actually resist; Sephiroth might refuse to follow changed biology that demanded a carnivore's diet, but like this, concerns such as morality and not being a monster were distinctly harder to care about. Nothing's changed, and yet the idea isn't a revolting one. He should. The evening is early yet.]

It's best to ... not think about it.

[But the mostly black creature is already getting back to its feet with languid, easy grace, turning from the convoy with a low, interested rumble. Blugu were plentiful but annoyingly spiky, but there were always other things near the water's edges. He'll just have to find it.]

[bufudine]

[Strange.

With Sephiroth's poise and cool, collected mannerisms, Serph did not expect that Sephiroth would reject the idea of eating monsters so strongly. If one must devour, it is only a function of the body's needs to survive. If one does not feed the body, then both mind and body deteriorates.

Perhaps his next words may sound familiar; when Serph had left the realm of dreams and returned to the land of the waking, he could still recall snatches of his conversation with Sephiroth in both Nirvanas.]

When a monstrous body requires a monstrous diet, what separates us from the monsters is how we choose to inflict the price of our ongoing survival.

[He keeps his gaze on Sephiroth, even as he begins to turn away.]

There is no shame in choosing to survive.

[firstsoldier]

[Hypocrisy is one of his strong suits. While he felt strongly that others should be judged by their actions and not by their species, willing to extend that mercy without hesitation once he was sure they weren't about to go berserk, for himself.. there was no such leniency. It preyed upon fears he'd thought he'd overcome years ago.

He couldn't pretend anymore, not when he had fangs and claws to go with the eyes that had always been strange. And he was so hungry, stubbornly sticking to a diet he could no longer make use of. The idea of eating things that were once people was revolting. And also terribly alluring. The rest of him knew what he had to eat; it needed to be meat, and it was best fresh.]

Isn't there?

[He knows his own words. That's a grace he can extend to Serph, so obviously still a man for all that he's changed. Rational, clearheaded, reasonable. He wasn't, anymore. Expressions are difficult on a creature with few facial muscles to speak of, but it seems to be an unwelcome topic.

Scaled, inhuman hands are studied with one eye, head tilted birdlike as long talons are flexed slowly.]

I am what I have been raised to destroy. I must look like one. I refuse to act like one.