Snake!AmeCan to cheer Pan up.
mistressandcoffeesubmitted:
this was supposed to be a short drabble thing. I’m sorry.
Warm hands. That was the first thing the snake man recognized once he was strong enough to perceive, there were warm hands on his cold, pained and utterly weak body. There were roaming and touching him with foreign fabrics and objects and he wanted them gone! Instinct told him the warms hands meant not one of his kind (and were there any left?) which only meant danger. Anything warm was hostile and enemy, especially if those hands were human’s - they had sorted upon their kind all kinds of awful catastrophes with those crucibles of them. He had been a child when it happened, helpless and weak to even protect his siblings from death, just like now - though now his weakness was not the fruit of infancy but of poison. He wanted to laugh, who would have thought that he, the last son of Season’s Forests, would die due the poison of a terrible insect while feeling how a human -the kind who slaughtered his kin- defiled what was left?
It was shameful. To have lost against the creature and to be forced into unwanted touches without being strong enough to push them away. He would not cry nor wail, even if he could do both. A shameful death was befitting of him, the one who could not destroy the trespasser of his abode.
Suddenly, something cold and sharp pierced him, and the snake man lashed wildly, a primitive and instinctual reaction that happened to be the last before darkness claimed him.
The next time the snake man regained consciousness he was surprised to be alive, capable of breathing and movement, and when he opened his eyes (a weary movement that stung more than what was worth at the moment) he found blue. Blue eyes, blue armor, blue light, everything was blue except for the golden hair and tanned skin. It took a moment before his sluggish mind realized the blue creature in front of him was a human but it had been his mistake. The human had immobilized him with firm and gentle hands before he could have any chance of attacking or going away.
“Calm down you are still weak” the voice was deep, weary but warm, effectively stopping him. Not because it had any soothing quality, but for the fact that he could understand its message. How was it possible? “That spider did a number on you. I took out all the eggs, but I don’t know if the poison is gone completely”