Alastor sat down on the edge of the bed and slowly removed his shirt. He barely held in a grimace as the edges of the fabric were pulled free from the wound, opening it back up a bit. A little bit of what might have been pus came with it.
He gripped the edge of the bed tightly, glaring down at the floor so he didn't give in to his instinct to bolt into the bathroom.
Beneath his clothing, Alastor was skin pulled taught over a thin skeleton. Part of his punishment for gluttony, for consuming the flesh of other humans. It went perfectly with his inability to ever really satisfy the eternal hunger he suffered from.
But the absolute worst part was the scars.
There was hardly any of his original skin left visible. They crisscrossed over one another, new ones stacking on top of the old. Some had a faint white glow to them, evidence of near misses with angel weaponry. But the most numerous scars, the oldest scars, were bite and claw marks as if he'd been eaten alive. (He hadn't been but only because the dogs' owner had shown mercy in putting him out of his misery.)
no subject
He gripped the edge of the bed tightly, glaring down at the floor so he didn't give in to his instinct to bolt into the bathroom.
Beneath his clothing, Alastor was skin pulled taught over a thin skeleton. Part of his punishment for gluttony, for consuming the flesh of other humans. It went perfectly with his inability to ever really satisfy the eternal hunger he suffered from.
But the absolute worst part was the scars.
There was hardly any of his original skin left visible. They crisscrossed over one another, new ones stacking on top of the old. Some had a faint white glow to them, evidence of near misses with angel weaponry. But the most numerous scars, the oldest scars, were bite and claw marks as if he'd been eaten alive. (He hadn't been but only because the dogs' owner had shown mercy in putting him out of his misery.)