A Memory that isn't Mine

Raining. Cold and wet outside, how depressing. Jeebs never really minded the rain but it still tended to bum her out. She had plans on going to see her moirail and one of her other friends today, the latter having wanted to watch this new scary movie he discovered on some obscure part of the internet. Jeebs never knew how he did this, but she never questioned it either.

Jeebs just watched the droplets travel down her block's window before she laid back in her cocoon, staring up at the ceiling. The pitter patter of the rain and the sound of her ceiling fan gently buzzing above her was making her sleepy. Which was... Strange. She wasn't feeling sleepy before that.  

Her eyelids drooped as the call of slumber tugged at her thinkpan, lulling her into what she assumed would be a restful sleep. But the story would be boring if it ended up that way, wouldn't it?

Cold air slapped and batted against the mutant blood's face as she slowly sat up, her eyes going big and buggy as she looked around. Her block... It was gone. She wasn't in her cocoon either, she was laying on a cold patch of soil, the winds howling all around her.  Where was she?

She stood up and nearly felt like throwing up. She bent at the knees and heaved slightly. It took her pan a couple minutes to process that she was MUCH taller than she thought she was. She looked down at her hands that were now pale and shaking, small veins could be seen under the skin. Her nails were long and sharp, covered in what she hoped wasn't blood. She reached up and gently her face gently... Scars. Her cheeks were littered with scars and some dirt from laying on the ground.

Her breathing started to grow heavier and heavier, her bloodpusher racing faster and faster. What was going on? Where was she? WHAT was she? She could feel the breakdown coming on, the slow burn of panic that would cause her to have a whole meltdown. She wanted to scream. She DID scream, but what came out was a shrill, high pitched wail of anger instead of scream of fear. She could see red all around her, feel the urge to hunt. This wasn't her. This had to be a dream, this all had to be one bad dream. She needed to wake up. She'd wake up and everything would be okay. Right?

She forced herself to move, her body felt cold and ridged as if she hadn't walked properly in sweeps. The tattered dress that clung loosely to her body was blowing in the harsh winds. Her long, gnarled hair was covering some of her face, but no matter how badly she tried to force herself to move it, her arm wouldn't listen to her. It felt like she wasn't in control of the body she was in, forced to be a silent observer to whatever was about to happen. She didn't know what she was going to witness, but she had a feeling she wasn't going to like it.

She watched as the body made its way to some sort of small village, some little community nestled within the countryside of the planet. This place seemed familiar to her, but her mind was too foggy with panicked questions to remember what this place was.

There was a man. A Bronze blooded man. He almost looked like a ghost or something. Jeebs couldn't tell if he was an actual ghost or if something in this dream world was making him appear to be a ghost. The body lurked forward and stepped into the village, growling softly as the Bronze finally saw her, slowly coming nearer and nearer.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. His lips moved, but no noise came. He was talking to Jeebs, or well, the body Jeebs was in. His face rough, but his eyes held this gentleness, this fondness. He reached out for the body's hand in attempts to grasp it. But the body slapped it away and shirked at him. The body's voice came out low, gargled and hoarse as if it hadn't been used in gog knows how long.

"EEnough of this purrbeeast and squeeak beeast chasee, Harveest Spirit! Your eefforts aree just as futilee as your miseerablee fucking eexisteencee!"
"I told you oncee, I'vee told you twicee. I will neeveer go back to thee patheetic littlee weeakling I oncee was. So I'd stop trying to changee mee... You'ree just making a fool of yourseelf likee you always do."

The man, "Harvest Spirit", frowned at the woman's words. He opened his mouth to speak. Jeebs could only hear the brief beginning before everything went white, making her squeeze her eyes shut.

It was warm now. Jeebs lifted her head up, feeling slime run down her back and shoulders. She was home.... But that man's face was etched into her memory. Who was this "Harvest Spirit"? Who was the woman he was talking to? This... This was all too much for her right now. She'll figure it out later.