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Description
Prompt: "Don't touch me"
Character: Asura

“Don’t touch me.” the kishin said simply, gently biting a few of his finger nails. No one else knew (not they had bothered to ask, of course) that he suffered from similar hallucinations to the ones people typically experienced as a symptom of his mad wavelengths. To him it made perfect sense. Wasn’t it he who was afflicted with the madness? Of course he would feel it the most out of anyone.

They’re not real, they’re not real, they’re not real, none of them are real stop being a fool!!

The kishin let out a blood curdling scream and hurled a broken chair across the room. It shattered on the wall, falling into broken splinters onto the floor like most every other piece of furniture that had been in the room.

“Stop touching me bastards!!” He let out a few ragged breaths, the small, alien creatures he felt on his body now gone. For now. Asura knew they’d be back, they always came back, it was like regular, like clockwork. Clockwork… clocks… ticking.. Asura’s thoughts were thrown back into disarray, trace amounts of blood on his lips as he stopped paying mind to how harshly he tore the skin off the tips of his finger with his teeth. Tick tick tick tick-

The sound of broken glass shattering against the wall jolted him from his mind. One of the many layers of his scarf had lunged at the wall, destroying the clock that was feeding his anxiety. Taking a few more slow breaths, he stared at it. Honestly, he was surprised the walls were still in tact.

“.. who needs time when you’re immortal…” he said flatly, more to himself than anything. The lanky man, if he could be called a man at this point, slumped back against the wall, giving no heed to good posture. Slowly he slid to the ground and let the layers of his scarf cover his face again. Darkness, silence. It was comforting, really, and the kishin couldn’t fathom why so many humans were scared of the dark, or scared of silence.

He imagined it was what a womb felt like. Slowly he relaxed, taking deep breaths in and out. Muscles, this was a new sensation to him, at least, a rejuvenated one. Letting them flex, Asura could feel the raw, sick power running through his veins.

…. a slight itch was creeping up his forearm. His entire body froze and his eyes snapped open, staring at nothing as his scarves were still obscuring his vision. Up his arms. His neck. No, it isn’t real, this isn’t real-

The layers of scarf flew open violently and Asura scratched and swatted at his bare skin, making inhuman gurgles of fear. There was nothing there, not in reality, but what relevance did the concept of reality have to someone like Asura?

It was several minutes before the kishin could be absolutely certain he was alone… free of those creatures, the ones that made clicking noises and skittered all over his skin like embodied diseases…

“… don’t touch me..”

Taking a few gasps for breath, he let himself fall to the floor, collapsing from exhaustion. His scarves gently wrapped around his body, caressing him with the finesse of a mother to her child. As he let himself get dragged into sleep, a strange melody slithered its way into his head, hypnotic and soft.

Alone she sleeps, in the shirt of man, with my three wishes, clutched in her hand…

Description
Prompt: "Don't touch me"
Character: Asura

“Don’t touch me.” the kishin said simply, gently biting a few of his finger nails. No one else knew (not they had bothered to ask, of course) that he suffered from similar hallucinations to the ones people typically experienced as a symptom of his mad wavelengths. To him it made perfect sense. Wasn’t it he who was afflicted with the madness? Of course he would feel it the most out of anyone.

They’re not real, they’re not real, they’re not real, none of them are real stop being a fool!!

The kishin let out a blood curdling scream and hurled a broken chair across the room. It shattered on the wall, falling into broken splinters onto the floor like most every other piece of furniture that had been in the room.

“Stop touching me bastards!!” He let out a few ragged breaths, the small, alien creatures he felt on his body now gone. For now. Asura knew they’d be back, they always came back, it was like regular, like clockwork. Clockwork… clocks… ticking.. Asura’s thoughts were thrown back into disarray, trace amounts of blood on his lips as he stopped paying mind to how harshly he tore the skin off the tips of his finger with his teeth. Tick tick tick tick-

The sound of broken glass shattering against the wall jolted him from his mind. One of the many layers of his scarf had lunged at the wall, destroying the clock that was feeding his anxiety. Taking a few more slow breaths, he stared at it. Honestly, he was surprised the walls were still in tact.

“.. who needs time when you’re immortal…” he said flatly, more to himself than anything. The lanky man, if he could be called a man at this point, slumped back against the wall, giving no heed to good posture. Slowly he slid to the ground and let the layers of his scarf cover his face again. Darkness, silence. It was comforting, really, and the kishin couldn’t fathom why so many humans were scared of the dark, or scared of silence.

He imagined it was what a womb felt like. Slowly he relaxed, taking deep breaths in and out. Muscles, this was a new sensation to him, at least, a rejuvenated one. Letting them flex, Asura could feel the raw, sick power running through his veins.

…. a slight itch was creeping up his forearm. His entire body froze and his eyes snapped open, staring at nothing as his scarves were still obscuring his vision. Up his arms. His neck. No, it isn’t real, this isn’t real-

The layers of scarf flew open violently and Asura scratched and swatted at his bare skin, making inhuman gurgles of fear. There was nothing there, not in reality, but what relevance did the concept of reality have to someone like Asura?

It was several minutes before the kishin could be absolutely certain he was alone… free of those creatures, the ones that made clicking noises and skittered all over his skin like embodied diseases…

“… don’t touch me..”

Taking a few gasps for breath, he let himself fall to the floor, collapsing from exhaustion. His scarves gently wrapped around his body, caressing him with the finesse of a mother to her child. As he let himself get dragged into sleep, a strange melody slithered its way into his head, hypnotic and soft.

Alone she sleeps, in the shirt of man, with my three wishes, clutched in her hand…