Ample white and black flashes entered Stan's vision, making him dizzy. It felt like he was being stretched across time and space. He felt an atrocious pain around his body, most specifically his back, head, and hands. He screamed in pain, but the sound was lost in the vast void. He blacked out from the pain.
"Pathetic," one voice said.
"What a baby," said another.
"Huh..?"
Stan blinked and woke up, directly facing two winged beasts. He was still dizzy and could only manage to mumble a response, his voice suddenly raspy. When seeing him staring at them, they spat hot spit on him, which smelled putrid, and left.
"So, this the Underneath huh? Seems lovely," Stan commented in a sarcastic tone, pulling himself off the ground. He etched his and Kyle's name small-ly onto the rock, the first step to freeing him. He made sure to put it in an unnoticeable area of the rock, so no other monsters would find it.
He walked away from where he landed, gazing at the oozing bright liquid and black-charred ground. The beings who were near him were flying in all directions, only a few chose to walk. He thought back to his aching back and sighed. He looked around, trying to find Kyle, trying to keep a neutral facade, when really, he was freaked out and wanted to scream. He spotted a large reflective surface, hidden in a dark area. He looked around, then jogged over to the location.
"Wow," was all Stan could manage. He gazed at the body that was not his own. Maroon and black feathery wings showed in his reflection. He touched them, making sure it was true. His back felt like it was splitting apart like a doll being ripped apart. He now had sharp talons, sharper than knives. His hair, a natural brown and black shade, now showed a darker-than-midnight black and had a very slight curl to them. Most interestingly, one of his fingers had turned completely marred, just like the hand. He flexed it out, feeling a foreign feeling of warmth and darkness arising from the finger.
"I can't believe it," Stan muttered, sitting down on the light gray ground.
"I'm like him..." he paused, trying to achingly pull out his newly-formed wings. "Now I can save him. Us."
He got up, having a feeling on where to look for Kyle. He tried to do a slow flap, and every movement felt like swords digging into his body.
I can do this.
YOU ARE READING
Style Oneshots | (and maybe some Kyman who knows)
FanfictionJUST FLUFF! I have to write a story every week for LA (English) and I have to write a story for my quiz too. You get a story at least once every two weeks! Might as well make them about Style! Sometimes it might focus on Kyle or vise versa. This is...
