Goretober 2024

15~Possession~

TW: blood, mildly upsetting?
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His body was not his own.

*

It had happened so fast. Even if his body is that of bones, his soul, on the other hand, is quite adept to pain - despite what others may think. Feeling it being ripped out tendril by ghostly tendril, stretched thin like sticky goo, was an experienced filled with agony. 

Where his soul was connected to his body, Brook felt each thread tear off in the way that frozen flesh tears from the source in a bloody manner, although there was no blood accompanying this dreadfully disorientating act.

Where he ended, another began. Not knowing who, nor what they would want out of his body left Brook shaken and fearful. His friends were only a few rooms down, partying with music and good food. He wanted desperately to be there with them, laughing in abandon, and not here, where the dark was all-consuming when by his lonesome.

It was an odd thing, how he came to be here. Brook's memory was fuzzy, but what was recalled was the simple thought of, Isolate. Or, it seemed more like a command. Indeed, though, did the disengaged spirit feel isolated.

He was free of his body, left to watch from the outside, but that was not the case for long. A strong suction pulled Brook closer to the floor and farther into the room. He shouted in surprise and struggled forwards. With every single push ahead, he was dragged back thrice as much; there was no winning.

Something was actively capturing his soul. It sucked Brook in, molded him to its design, and shut out his escape. The change, though, was far too sudden. 

Reflexively, Brook's soul fought, shuddered violently, and practically tore itself apart as the pressure set in. He was blinded by pain, and by the supernatural shocks coursing through his new body.

He couldn't discern as to what his soul had forcefully joined with, but it was leaking profusely from every available opening. The musician writhed and whined, all the while losing more and more consciousness the further he opposed this unfitting change.

Groaning by the end of it, Brook felt far too tired to keep going. His soul relaxed as this form bled out. Ah... He had been leaking blood. He must be of flesh and bone then, a rather foreign concept now after having been his skeletal self for so many years. No wonder he felt so faint. However, he found that he couldn't move, and that was quite odd.

A slight shuffle drew Brook's attention. His sight wasn't too great, but due to their reflective gleam, his bony self was clear to see in the center of the dark room.

My body! Maybe there's a way that I can get it back!

To Brook's surprise, the skeleton, once his, slowly turned to face him. Those empty eye sockets have never appeared more menacing than now, and a mental chill went down his spine at the eerie sight.

Hello? Ah, I can't speak. How unfortunate.

His soul was still unable to escape this new vessel, to his dismay, and the possibility of things going back to normal was looking bleak.

Staring at himself was unsettling. Brook watched, and the other watched back. Eventually, his body turned away and walked awkwardly towards the hall. 

Wait! Come back! That's my body, not yours!

The thing that wasn't him anymore was none the wiser to his shouting thoughts, and it continued on until out of sight around the corner. That was when the cold set in. Now owner to a body of flesh and nerves, Brook felt the drop in temperature, and shivered in a stuttering manner thanks to it.

The party was still happening, and it was only getting louder, but Brook wasn't there to experience it. He was all on his own, in a foreign room, foreign body, but occupying familiar thoughts; thoughts of loneliness, to be precise. 

Since the Straw Hats, it has been a good, long while since Brook was truly alone, and he felt the shift far too strongly in that moment.

Hello? Anybody?

No one was coming. Brook felt hopeless, the despair a hard pill to swallow when he had thought he finally found happiness once again. It was pitiful how easily the musician could fall back into old ways. Accepting this new change was horrible, but it would surely make life easier should this truly be how he spent the rest of his days.

Yet again, he was a lonely, lonely man. He was tired, frankly traumatized, bleeding steadily, although at a slower pace, and brimming with an aching sadness that scarred his very soul. Old wounds reopened were a difficult matter to handle, but Brook has done it before.

His attacker must be truly heartless to resort to stealing another's body... ah, but they really don't have a heart now, being a skeleton and all! 

YOHOHOHO!

...

....Yoho....