Work Text:
Large, sharp claws dug their way into the floor, claws which hadn't bid their arrival in a merciful manner. Claws which did not belong to the recipient.
The behemoth now known as Folly writhed in pain and agony against the floor, paralysed, unable to run, in fear and anguish from The Great One's violent desecration of her body. A harrowing scream wrangled its way out of her throat as she felt her once untainted fleecey fur tear in clumps from her body, leaving a dark, jet black mass in its place.
The location in which her head was punctured split open further, the rind surrounding the wound stretching further to reveal a pupil, blood red sclera surrounding it. It's gaze frantically darted around, searching for any sign of solace or freedom from this torture, but alas, found none.
The seconds crawled by like hours, each one passing like the fleeting hope of escape, almost vanished with every agonizing, waking moment. The monstrosity foolishly maintained hope though, all positivity and yearning for a merciful fate not yet forgone. This ambition flickered faintly, pathetically clinging onto the little semblance of safety that remained.
Then began the contortion.
The contortion that ripped limbs from sockets, the contortion that twisted and snapped and shaped bones which intended to remain organic, unchanged. The contortion that altered this creatures physique into that of a beasts. A heartwrenching cry wove its way from her throat as her flesh stretched to fit her now deformed hulking body. A torso which could tower over the tallest of men, wiry coarse hair, matted with blood and filth frol her surroundings. The list could go on describing this vehement being's qualities as she lay there breathless, attempting to regain her composure.
The qualities which once called for celebration of this delicate soul were now to cause fear. A convoluted mind which would seek to wreak havoc on those it desired, an all seeing minds eye to manipulate and bring malice from within, and an elongated figure to forwarn of an apocalyptic spiral of chaos.
That innocent young progeny of light was long gone, and what remained was a parasitical brute. For this was no longer a dreamer's folly, this was now a matter of nightmarish vengeance.
