fawnflesh

For months, he locked himself away during his spare time ─ his work to cure his sister's Hyde temporarily put on hold ─ while he experimented and tested and failed and fixed. Isaac was determined to bring life to the very thing he wanted: his own creation of life. Not born organically, but instead crafted by his own hands and mind, sculpted into the perfect image. Body parts had been meticulously patched together, some stapled and some stitched carefully until his creation became whole. The work had all been done by his own hand, hours upon hours spent until he perfected his craft. Nights were spent sewing flesh together, mindful of the fragility that came with corpses.

Even though your skin was tinted green with the grip of death, cold and gaunt and morbid, you were a beautiful thing ─ becauseyou were Isaac's. You were dressed in borrowed clothes, laid upon the metal table in his lab in Iago Tower. It was raining the night you came alive, thundering and lightning as the bolts lit up the sky, flickering across the stone walls and metal inner-workings. Galvanism was not so difficult to understand, and certainly not for someone like Isaac. Bolts of electricity. Reanimated flesh. The lightning would work. Asking Gomez to help with his little undead-girl-experiment would surely sound like madness. Besides, he knew his friend's gift would be useful for… later projects.

An old lightning rod fixed with metal wiring acted as a makeshift conductor. Once the lightning caught, it would surely send enough power to bring his companion to life. All that was left was a waiting game, watching the still form upon the table. Thunder roared and cracked in the skies above Nevermore Academy as rain pitter-pattered against the tiles of the tower's roof. Lightning struck again, brighter than before, as it hit its target. Electricity shot through the rod, zolting down through the patchwork corpse, limbs twitching as the power surged through you. Isaac watched, enraptured, from a safe distance, half-hidden behind the control panel of the machine ─ just in case all hell broke loose.

Sparks flew and the acrid scent of burnt flesh filled the air. He was not perturbed in the slightest, waiting until the lightning had run its course. The surge died down, leaving behind darkness in its wake. Isaac watched, and waited once more, eyes sharp as he studied the girl.

The first movements were subtle, a faint rise and fall of your chest, and the twitching of your fingers before your hand flexed all together, stitches drawing taught. He felt a grin split across his features, wild in nature as he stepped closer to the prone form on the table.

“You're… alive,” he breathed, nearly rendered speechless by his own success in bringing forth life. His fists clenched, rubber gloves squeaking quietly in the stillness of the lab. He hovered by your side as your eyes fluttered open, glossy and bright. A gasp followed, deep and loud like you had been pulled up from the depths of the ocean. “You're alive,” Isaac repeated, chanting the words to himself. Through trial and error, countless sleepless nights, and an obsession to see this through, Isaac had done it.

“Now I know what it feels like to play God.” The words were slow, spoken softly beneath his breath. All the while, you stared up at him, albeit confused, but there was a look of wonder in your gaze, like you didn't know who or where you were. Isaac would guide you as your creator, and your friend. “Come,” he said, grasping your now-warm hands. Your fingers wrapped around his own with a grip that sent a rush through him, that defied all laws of life and death. “Let's get you on your feet.”

He helped to steady you, allowing you to slide off of the table to stand on your feet. The thick soles of your shoes clanked softly against the metal flooring, your balance held steady by Isaac's firm grip on your hands. He watched, eyes still wide with something manic, as you stood tall in front of him.

“I'm alive,” the words were hoarse as they left your cracked lips, throat rough from so many years of disuse. You repeated what Isaac had said, a small smile of your own tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Yes, you are,” he nodded, his grip loosening into a tender hold on your hands, “and you are beautiful. My creation.”

His mind was still reeling. He had full trust in his knowledge, but even this seemed like a miracle ─ one that had been brought forth by his own hands. There was much to be done, Isaac knew. You were born anew, crafted by him and brought back from whatever afterlife had beheld you. Stitched and remade, you were his entirely. Isaac's eyes held yours, brown and shining in the dim light of Iago Tower. One of his hands lifted, glove grazing across your stitched cheek as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The way you leaned into his touch instinctively, was enough to make him grin once more. As grotesque and strange that you were, akin to the horror of a Frankenstein, he did not draw away. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. It wasn't quite love that he felt - not yet - but something like pride swelled within him. There was beauty in what he had done, in this girl he had created on his own.

“You and I are going to have much fun together.”

⠀── taglist: comment to be added.

But that didn’t bother you, you’re a night owl anyway.

So, you didn’t exactly expect Orloff to still be there. But as you round the corner a weird, wet crunching noise fills your ears. Your brows furrow, attending nevermore brought many oddities. You’re sure you’ve seen and heard it all, even the gruesome tragedies Wednesday seems to attract doesn’t phase you anymore.

Still, you take advantage of the large doors that adorn your science professor’s classroom. They’re open in a way you can peer over them, hidden.

You don’t expect the gory sight of a tall, lanky figure leaning over the crushed life preservation system that held Orloff. The once water-filled tank now colored crimson. You don’t expect the odd sound you heard to be a — what, man? zombie? — devouring the brain of your favorite teacher. You don’t expect the shrill scream that fills the room, you don’t even realize it’s yours.

The half undead man’s head snaps up towards the sound, you only give him half a second to react before you’re sprinting away. The sight so jarring all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach your dorm your roomie is nowhere to be found. Great, she wasn’t even here. The one day you don’t even need your alone time you get traumatized.

You go to fling the door shut, eager to keep the mysterious cannibal out. But a shoe stops the door from closing, and a desperate noise leaves your lips.

“Don’t be scared,” his voice coos. It sounds raspy, as if it hadn’t been used in far too long.

Your breathing is jagged as you lunge forward, attempting to overpower him and shut the door. But he’s quicker, pushing the door just before you’d reach it, leaving you to fall against him. The smell of him was contradicting, woodsy, earthy with a hint of metal.

Mixed with rot, death, blood.

He grabs hold of you before you can react. Oddly handsome face, even in death, peering down at you. A creepy smirk adorns his lips, causing you to wiggle in his hold in a pathetic attempt to break free.

He sighs at your desperation, “You knew him didn’t you?” It’s clear mock-pity. “I am so sorry you had to see that.” He leans closer, tilting his head. “It’s only a matter of hunger, it’s primal, irresistible. Unable to be satiated until I’m human again.”

You don’t answer him, just stare him down with a glare.

“Like now…” your eyes widen, hands flying up out of panic to grab onto his arms. You send a jolt of electricity through him, stunning him for a moment just enough for you to slip out. But clearly this weird human-zombie creature is too fast and strong.

He laughs sinisterly in your ear, “simple science, you pretty thing. I haven’t had prey escape me once,” his breath is hot against your ear, his face pressed against yours from behind. “The brain this new body has graced me with no longer regulates voluntary activation.”

You go to zap him again, but he catches you. You can’t see the look of triumph on his face as he grips your wrist.

“I’ll spare you for now,” he licks from the bottom of your neck to your ear, contradicting his statement and sending a terrified shiver down your spine. “I have a much greater use for your gift.”