Creation
First it was pain. Goddamn it was a pain unlike any he could have imagined, half-formed nerves screaming at the improper connections to the malformed parts that made up his pathetic excuse for a body. Then something started to change, a new sensation as something foreign was absorbed into his being, and somehow the pain receded somewhat, other sensations taking its place. Time was unperceivable, but gradually distinct senses began to coalesce from the unimaginable pain, the blinding darkness and deafening silence. Lights and sounds gradually became distinct and the mottled blurs and buzzing tones around him became forms and voices.
"-nally looking like something the cat dragged in, maybe in another month we can even take it out in daylight."
"Now don't be cruel, you were just as bad you know."
They sounded familiar somehow, though he knew he had never heard them before. He had memories of them, but they weren't his. It was almost dreamlike, or so he imagined it must be since that's what his stolen thoughts told him, despite having never dreamt to his own recollection.
"Think he has any memories?"
"Of course he does! I perfected it this time."
"Isn't that what you said about Gluttony?"
"Be silent! I'm sure you have something more important to be doing."
The voices were hard to discern, one was definitely younger than the other, more arrogant and sarcastic, and he seemed to have a more distinct idea of who the more serious voice belonged to, how he had this knowledge was still a mystery though.
He experienced a break in perception at last. Sleeping perhaps? Unconsciousness? It was hard to tell. Everything was clearer now. Shapes and colors, highlight and shadow were all crisp and clear. Sounds were now sharp and distinct. He could smell the musty stone and wood of the building he was in, dust tickling his senses. He could taste again, for the first time? He ran his tongue over his sharp teeth, a hint of copper filling his mouth as he pricked his tongue. He could feel his body at last, arms, legs, fingers toes, his awareness stretching to fill his limbs in an exultation of self-awareness.
"Seems you filled out nicely while I was gone, can you remember anything?" The younger voice asked, he turned to face it and saw a person to attach to it. They were shorter than he was, pale and with long forest green hair hanging from around a headband. There was something tantalizingly familiar about this person.
"Everything feels fake, like I'm in some kind of dream." The words came from his mouth, but it didn't feel like he was speaking them, they weren't his.
"Sounds about right, you get used to it." There was a sadness in the other person's voice that seemed out of place, and he wondered how long he had known this person, or seemed to have been meant to.
"What…am I?" He asks, feeling like he's using his own words this time.
"You're a homunculus, we all are here. Except for the one who created you."
"Created? Homunculus? What does that mean?" Some words are his, some are not, it's getting harder to tell already.
"It means you're a fake! A copy! Just a failed attempt at a replacement human!" The other person's anger was palpable, but its voice was cracking underneath the rage.
"Replacement huh? Then who am I supposed to be?" It felt like an honest question when he started to say it, but turned sarcastic as it left his lips. His conversation partner's anger faded, replaced by a sardonic smile.
"Figuring that out is the fun part."