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“Shit!” Chip exclaimed as he frantically scrabbled at the walls of the slope he was sliding down.
They had been exploring a seemingly abandoned town in the Black Sea, and he had been in one of the more dilapidated buildings.
Everything had been going mostly fine, only a couple encounters with the hallowed around, until his foot had snapped through the boards in one room and fell directly into some sort of sinkhole or tunnel down.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” trying to dig his hands into the mix of stone and earth in the near vertical drop did nothing, the lack of skin on his fingers not helping.
His impact with the ground was ungrateful, a loud crack ringing out as he landed and twisted his body into rolling to the side. Pain bloomed all along his body, the worst of it concentrated in his left leg.
Mud, stones, and wood planks tumbled from the hole above, blocking the entrance even if he had wanted to figure out how to climb back up the likely over a hundred foot fall.
He sat up, glancing at the area around him as well as down at himself to take stock of the situation.
None of his exposed bones seemed broken thankfully, though it looked like a small chip, hah, had been taken out of one of his ribs. Through the constant disguise of the bandana he could see most of his remaining skin had scrapes or what looked like the beginning of bruises forming.
His sense of pain had been muted since he died, but dull throbs of pain still radiated throughout his body.
One of the only distinct sensations was coming from his leg, the shin bone jutting out at an angle that made him shiver.
He seemed to be in one of the underground caves that they had seen entrances through sparsely on the island. A tunnel stretched on in front of him into the darkness.
He pushed himself to his feet using the walls to help him stand and ignited his sword for light before slowly limping forwards.
He was no stranger to working with injuries. Streetkids didn't have access to much for broken bones other than a splint and a ‘suck it up,’ unless they wanted to try stealing the good medicine, which tended to bring a lot more attention than Rueben was willing to risk, even for him.
However, he had gotten used to having healing on hand easily between Jay and Gillions magic, and he knew how much of a bitch this was going to be to heal now that it wouldn't work on him.
The real worst part about having your heart ripped out, convenience.
He wasn't sure how long he limped on for, the shadows from the flames licking up his swords serving as the only visual distraction in the caves. The constant sound of his shuffling steps was monotonous, but he'd rather that than suddenly hear something new.
There were only a couple times he had to choose a direction as a fork appeared in the path, both times trying to choose the one that slanted up ever so slightly.
Eventually he had been limping and stumbling along for long enough that he sat down and slumped against the wall. His sense of time was messed up enough by the constant clouds and dark still waters of the black sea, much less in a dark cave.
He didn't want to sleep, or well, rest and try to remember himself, for too long. With luck the other two were finding their way towards him without breaking their legs or getting lost.
He leaned his head back against the cold stone, sighing as he thought about his crew and ignoring the tiny voice that whispered that they were glad to have a convenient way to be rid of him.
He began walking again, trying to avoid dragging his sword along the ground while still holding it out to see.
The rest didn't do much other than giving him a short break. The pain didn't disappear so much as dull after he had made it worse by walking on it. Though one thing had become more intense, his hunger.
His hunger was something he could usually ignore. Ever since he had died, there had been something inside him, clawing, nashing, begging for food, even if everything he ate tasted like ash.
He tried to eat as little as possible and give it to someone else without arising concern, though that was hard to do nowadays.
He wasn't stupid. He had seen the hallowed and how they behaved. He knew what being undead meant and what he was hungry for. He was just hoping if he kept ignoring it then it would go away.
It seems that being trapped completely by himself for hours in the dark was counterproductive to this approach.
A small part of him wondered what it meant for him if he gave in. Did it make him a monster, worse than the enemies they'd faced so far? If he enjoyed it then how would the others react? He wasn't sure how much they'd approve of ‘hey I'm constantly hungry unless I eat people and it feels like I'm starving.’
He shook his head, continuing on. The pangs of hunger shot through his stomach, somehow stealing his attention over the pain in his leg. He shivered faintly, hating the way that some of the only things he'd felt since he died were caused by this insatiable urge.
The realization that the cave had opened up into a larger room momentarily surprised him enough to halt his train of thoughts. Casting a small flame out into the room revealed that it was a large dome shaped room with a few other tunnels branching off and, something on the floor against the other side?
He limped over, halting as he noticed that it was a person.
They were pretty clearly dead, though strangely not as decayed as he thought 10 years in the Black Sea would lead to, even if they had died a while after. They werent pristine or anything, skin sunken in and their eyes missing, but somehow not even as far gone as he was. The shower in the blessed water probably had more to do with that than whatever cool cave air had preserved this body.
Their body was twisted, but there were little other outside injuries. They looked… fresh.
He knew where that train of thought was leading, and tried to avoid it, he really did. A part of him couldn't bring himself to just walk away through another tunnel, so he settled for sitting on the other side of the cave with his sword off.
It didn't last for long.
The hunger clawed its way up his throat, sending tremors through him with whispers of you'll never know how good it feels until you try it.
It promised relief, it promised satisfaction for the first time in so long, like the memories of his first few months on the Albatross exploring the luxury of consistent meals again.
And no one would know. Clearly it had been left down here for who knows how long, and the town above was abandoned anyway. It wouldn't hurt anyone…
He found himself in front of it before he could even think further, kneeling on the hard ground in some twisted act of devotion with his weapon abandoned on the other side of the room.
It was easy really, letting go and letting the part of him that had been begging for this for so long be the instinct that guided his hands.
He tried to dig his hands in, but human nails weren't exactly meant for this. He let out a growl and sunk his teeth in.
It was hard. He had been reminded time and time again when looking at Gillion that he was built to be a predator, and Chip was not. His teeth would cut so easily when he playfully nipped them, and he wished he had that now.
He dug in deeper, teeth sinking in until he jerked his head back, yanking like the scavengers he had seen swarming carcasses before. The flesh came loose with a thick snap, and he barely chewed before it slid down his throat.
And it was good.
It was the promised relief he dreamed of and more. He would cry with relief if he still could.
More, more, he needed more.
He dug deeper, tearing into the muscle beneath and uncaring of the blood that painted his hands.
He tore into the muscle and fat beneath, choking for a moment on one of the chunks and hardly pausing for longer than a second before he went right back to it again.
He finally made it to the ribs, grunting with effort as he tried to break them to get past with the desperation of the starving animal he felt like.
The heart. The heart would finally satisfy him.
It would fill the cavity that had been left in his own chest.
He wrapped his hands around it once he finally reached it, arms coated with viscera as he practically buried himself in the open chest of it. The bite he took was heavenly. The blood that poured from it, thick and old, clogged his throat, but he had no need to breathe anymore. He could just eat.
He heard the loud clatter of metal behind him, turning around and lurching back with metaphorical hackles raised until his more rational thoughts of oh fuck I left my sword on the other side of the cave flooded in.
The sight of Gillion, bathed in the soft glow of Destiny's blade, brought him the rest of the way back to his senses and was a temporary relief as he watched as his gaze lingered between him and the body next to him.
“It was dead before I got here,” was the only thing he could think to say immediately.
He quickly reached over and tied his bandana back on before Gillion could get close enough to see anymore, it having slipped off in his fervor. Beneath it he could see the blood staining down to his bones.
“Chip? I- What happened? It's been almost a couple days. We found the caved in house.”
Despite the confusion and hint of fear in Gillions voice, Chip couldn't bring himself to feel any guilt for the action, just upset that Gill had had to see it.
“I just- I'm so hungry Gill, and this way no one got hurt! There isn't even anyone else who could find it down here,” he pleaded, subtlely shifting to stand in front of the corpse, knowing that his franticness in tearing it apart made it a less than appealing sight.
“I can control it, I promise! I'm not going to hurt any of our crew,” he tried to reassure him, voice tight with fear as he took a step forward before stumbling to the ground at the weight on his broken leg.
He sucked in a hiss through his teeth, watching as Gillion's hesitation momentarily disappeared and he rushed forward, crouching on the ground.
“Broke it when I fell down here,” he mumbled, watching as Gillion's hands hovered over it for a second before pulling back.
Gill's eyes stared into his, tension and hesitation visible in his gaze in a way that hurt, even if he understood it.
Eventually he seemed to make a decision and wrapped his arms under Chip's body to pick him up.
“We can talk about this later after we get you back out,” he said firmly, Chip not missing the way his gaze darted over to the body before he swallowed thickly and began walking out the way he came, stopping to pick up Chip's sword and slide it into one of the sheaths on his side.
Chip shivered, relaxing into the hold.
He hated the way that he finally felt full now and the way he knew it wouldn't last for long as they left.