Jekyll's Rooms/Lab
Jun 11, 2008 15:52:03 GMT -5
Post by Edward Hyde on Jun 11, 2008 15:52:03 GMT -5
*He had been working steadily for weeks.
After the... thing... with Lucy, he had had a choice. To descend further, or to throw himself back into his work. He chose the latter. He stopped going out, but to procure supplies. He stopped eating, except when immediately reminded about it. He barely slept. His thin face grew more haggard with each passing day, though the light of feverish determination burned in his eyes.
At last, perhaps, it was the exhaustion that made him try it. After Hyde, he'd sworn off further experimentation of this kind. But his shame over his treatment of Lucy spurred him on, as if he could erase the lingering traces of lust.
HJ8, oddly clear and still for a "potion," sat before him. His bleary eyes blinked as his brain told him to go to bed, to think about this, to try it tomorrow. He ignored it. This was what he was. It was all he had left.
The transformation, this time, was not painful. It itched. And when it was over, the face that looked back at him in the cracked mirror was nearly recognizable as his own. But he was younger, firmer, the only lines on his face those etched by frequent smiling.*
"What have you done, Henry?"
*His voice was smoother, more melodic. He felt a laugh bubble up within him and he realized he felt wonderful. Not like Hyde did, no. He wouldn't describe this feeling as "lighter." But well-being suffused him, and it made the weight of the world easier to bear.
Harry had to keep himself from whistling as he left the apartment to discover what the world had to offer him.*
After the... thing... with Lucy, he had had a choice. To descend further, or to throw himself back into his work. He chose the latter. He stopped going out, but to procure supplies. He stopped eating, except when immediately reminded about it. He barely slept. His thin face grew more haggard with each passing day, though the light of feverish determination burned in his eyes.
At last, perhaps, it was the exhaustion that made him try it. After Hyde, he'd sworn off further experimentation of this kind. But his shame over his treatment of Lucy spurred him on, as if he could erase the lingering traces of lust.
HJ8, oddly clear and still for a "potion," sat before him. His bleary eyes blinked as his brain told him to go to bed, to think about this, to try it tomorrow. He ignored it. This was what he was. It was all he had left.
The transformation, this time, was not painful. It itched. And when it was over, the face that looked back at him in the cracked mirror was nearly recognizable as his own. But he was younger, firmer, the only lines on his face those etched by frequent smiling.*
"What have you done, Henry?"
*His voice was smoother, more melodic. He felt a laugh bubble up within him and he realized he felt wonderful. Not like Hyde did, no. He wouldn't describe this feeling as "lighter." But well-being suffused him, and it made the weight of the world easier to bear.
Harry had to keep himself from whistling as he left the apartment to discover what the world had to offer him.*