A gentle hum of air, the light rustle of leafy foliage, and the background noise composed of a myriad of distant wildlife roused a man from his bout of unconsciousness.
"Grmm..." It also brought into stark light the headache that he was coming to register in real time. A soft, yet heavy spike hammering within his skull. Insistently. The feeling was reminiscent of a...hangover? Yes, that sounded right. But somehow worse? "Fuuuuck..."
The natural, peaceful world now polluted by the man's groans and curses, eyelids forced themselves open to bear witness to it. An immediate mistake. Bright light burned into his retinas as if they were ants beneath a magnifying glass. An even more spiking pain within his noggin screamed for his attention. "Uuugh, now it's worse..."
A hand rose painfully slowly to rub his forehead, as if that actually made the suffering fade. It didn't. Merely a comforting lie, a placebo at best.
It would have to do.
Bracing for the pain with impeccable resolve, he forced his eyes open in spite of all discomfort.
"..."
No words left him as the general image of his current situation started to clear.
A canopy of green, rays of light sneaking past openings in the rich foliage. An opening revealed a clear sky and white clouds adrift the blue aether high above. The distinct sounds of wilderness registered fully. Insects, rustles of leaves, bird calls. The works.
The man shot to a sitting position like a spring being rapidly unwound. Eyes wide, he took in his surroundings, really took them in. At the trees taller than any man, draped with long green vines.
The picture made sense, it just didn't help make any sense of anything.
"...Why the hell..."
The man slowly got onto his feet, mentally willing his aching joints and sore bones to not register. Pushing aside the pain, he sucked in a deep breath- again, ignoring how his ribs protested at the expansion of his chest -and tilted his face skyward.
He then let loose, his loud yell echoing for miles.
"-AM I IN A JUNGLE!?"
X~ = = = = = = = = = = = ~X
C-Hablerie Presents,
A re-imagined tale,
...
⸶Imagine Dreamers!⸷
...
Episode 1
Awaken! A Frantic Start To A New Beginning!
X~ = = = = = = = = = = = ~X
The man, for he was decidedly a male despite what his bewitchingly feminine appearance would have one believe, sucked in a deep, calming breath after screaming his lungs sore. With a wince, he could confirm the saying more literal than usual in this case. His everything hurt.
He ran his hand through his very short-cut black hair, internally musing that something was missing, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what that was. His mind felt so murky and clouded it was hard to recall damn near anything. Like trying to see anything through a thick layer of frosted glass.
For one, where the hell he was currently?
...Actually, who was he?
"Shit," the man cursed, a nasty look of aggravated concern twisting his pretty features. "What the hell happened?"
Desperately looking for answers, the man looked himself over. The first thing that struck him was his clothing. A black dress with a medium-length hem and wide, frilly sleeves. Black stocking and sturdy looking boots completed a decidedly gothic inspired dark yet elegant look. Despite clashing with his debatable masculinity, the man found the apparel both appealing and comfortable. Or so he would say, if not for something else.
No, what truly struck him was the present condition of said clothing. Ripped and torn, likely from being snagged on something. The hem was ripped so badly it showed some upper thigh('Le gasp, oh, how scandalous,' his mind snarked). Dirty with floral stains and brown-hued dirt. And most alarmingly for the current situation, clear gashes from what seemed like sharp claws.
"...That...that's not right," the man muttered, confused. There was a fairly big discrepancy between the state of his clothing, and his actual condition.
No matter how he looked, he could not find injuries anywhere near the level his torn up appearance would indicate. As in, not even a single bruise or scratch. That did not feel right at all. For how much his bones ached and how sore everything felt, he should have at least a little noticeable damage!
But no. Nothing. It was laughably impossible, and made his head hurt trying to figure it out.
Shaking his head, the man let his attention leave his near literally flawless pale, nearly chalk-colored skin, and observed his surroundings more keenly. He immediately noted that he was standing at the bottom of a cliff-face. It was quite the long fall. His keen eye spotted the surrounding tree-line in the vicinity bore the marks of broken branches and torn vines.
Actually, caught on one of said branch remains, there was something purple fluttering lightly in the gentle breeze. It almost looked like hair? Was that...was that a wig? Why did that irritate him for some reason?
"Huh," he hummed, brushing the thought aside as a theory formed in his mind.
The tears and gashes in his clothes indicated that he'd been attacked and was fleeing something through the jungle, with enough urgency to not care about things snagging into his clothing. Somehow, along the way he'd ran off a tall cliff and smashed his way down. The branches and vines were probably the only reason he wasn't dead from a broken neck or some such. The impact still probably played a part in why his mind couldn't parse so much as a single memory together.
Though even that still didn't explain why he seemed to have nothing worse than sore bones!
"...Why was I here in the first place?" The man couldn't help but wonder. Was he alone? With other people? Did they have a base, a camp? Were they killed by whatever attacked him?
He could only groan and scratch at his short hair in frustration. With both hands, just because he felt it would be more accommodating for his rising temper. "Too damn many questions! To hell with that shit! It's making the headache worse!"
Perhaps it was a tad sad, that his only real way to vent was scream impotently at the air. The man couldn't care less at the moment. It wasn't like there was anything else to...
…
"Wait," a thought occurred to him, "if I was running away, then where is what was chasing-"
The question was interrupted, or perhaps answered, by a loud roar that sent many creatures of an avian variety flying from within the surrounding foliage.
"Me and my loud mouth!" The man's hurried curse left him as his body ignored its ails and moved as fast as possible, away from the general direction of whatever the hell made that damned sound.
Even as his limbs protested, his legs pushed him forward and away, deeper into the jungle. As he ran, the man was surprised by how easy it felt to move so rapidly, his body in that moment feeling surprisingly light, aches be damned. The man realized that while his memory was near incomprehensible, his innate instincts were still sharp and fully functional. When passing by a tree with a low-hanging branch, he leapt with sudden vigor and grabbed the branch, using his mass and momentum to tear it off the trunk. He landed in a slightly sloppy combat roll that only made him stumble briefly before his escape continued.
Crude club, acquired. A poor weapon was better than none, and something in his gut told him he'd be utterly screwed if he was caught unarmed. Even holding the oversized stick the man could feel his slender arms strain just to hold it up while running. It was weighty, sure, but it shouldn't be that heavy by his estimate.
He wasn't that fatigued from the exertion as a whole. In fact, he felt almost exhilarated instead! But he was apparently too weak to effectively hold a big stick. Not a good sign.
"I'm so fucked," the man mumbled as his eyes searched for anything to save his ass as he ran for his life. And valiantly paid mind to the distant sounds of something that was without a doubt closing in on him.
In his confused and frazzled state, he needed a plan.
'Or...'
The feminine man's gaze happened on a tree with enough convenient grooves on its surface that would allow him to swiftly make his way all the way to the canopy, even while holding onto his improvised weapon.
Which is exactly what he did, one leg moving in tandem with another, with help from a single free hand, allowing him to hop, skip, and pull his way up the tree's trunk with relative ease, hiding himself within the lush foliage it provided. Again, his body felt lighter than he'd assumed it would, helping with the expediency of his action. He pushed the notion aside for now.
'Hide,' his internal thought finished. 'The coward's way. Bah! The survivor's way, more like!'
For some reason that idea resonated with him. Screw honor and pride! Choose life!
Finding a comfortable enough position, the man crouched in the canopy, calming his breathing, and melding to be one with the foliage. As if by flipping a switch, the man had changed his role in this scenario. No longer Prey to be hunted. Now he was a Hunter laying in wait.
Briefly, he noted how seamless the transition was. Like it was second nature. But he had no time for contemplation quite yet. He had to focus.
And so he waited. Motionless, save for the smallest motion of the chest as he drew slow, steady breath. If something was on his trail, it should be around soon enough. But only a fool assumes.
But because the man did not believe in the inherent value of turns of phrase, he was not wrong to do so.
It did not take even a full minute before it stalked into the area. The predator on his trail, a fact he felt down to his bones was correct. A resonance of his fogged up memories, perhaps?
With measured, heavy steps, a mighty beast arrived to the scene. Heavy, in the sense that despite seeming 'light' with its steps, the sheer mass involved still caused minor tremors and sound with every step. Subtle, this beast was not. And it did not really seem to need to be.
The man had only one thought as it came into his view. 'That's one fuck off tiger.'
Stalking on four powerful legs, with strikingly reddish orange fur with black stripes and a paler underbelly. And the thing was big. Easily just as tall as the average human man, even on all fours, and probably multitudes as heavy. A true apex predator if the man had ever seen one, and an absolute unit besides.
In his mind he chuckled at that one addition to his description. Good, levity kept him calm. Because the massive tiger sniffing around the area very much did not. 'Oh, god damn it to hell! If I left a distinct enough scent trail, it's game over!'
Tigers couldn't climb trees, right? He felt like he should know, but didn't. God he hoped not.
A low growl left the tiger as it kept stalking circles in the area near the man's hiding place. To him the beast almost seemed...confused. Frustrated. He'd take that as a good sign, and wait. Patience would win the day here.
The tiger meandered around the area, but much to the man's irritation did not actually make moves to leave. It was persistent in looking for its prey, seeming convinced by some means that he was still somewhere here, but just couldn't find him.
'Tough, you dumb big cat.' He was the hunter now!
All it took was patience and timing. The man waited until the tiger stalked below his hiding spot and tensed his body, a spring winding tightly in preparation. The tiger's ear flicked slightly as his movement disturbed his hiding spot, and so the Hunter pounced without hesitation!
Giving the beast no time to respond or react, the man leapt on its back, slipping the branch in his grasp under the tiger's neck, and clamped down with all four of his limbs, legs around the girth of the tigers neck, and arms around each end of the branch, effectively locking the tiger into an improvised chokehold.
Normally, the man would not have been able to pull off such a maneuver. Not with his bare hands, and certainly not without help. But with some positioning and bodily exertion in a specific way, it was possible to make up the difference in strength.
The man tensed with his full body and squeezed.
Immediately the tiger tried to roar in surprise, but the noise was strangled by the literal strangling taking place, thrashing wildly. But thanks to his tight hold, each movement only applied more pressure on the beast's airway. He was wrapped around the beats neck like a serpent, tightly coiled and hard to displace. All the beasts thrashing would accomplish was strangling itself and tiring itself out faster.
Still wasn't a fun ride by any metric. The beast bucked, rolled around, and slammed into the the hard bark of any tree it could reach, and the man had to bear with everything. Only sheer stubborn will to survive kept him firmly where he was, his hold never once waning, no matter how hard he was battered or how deeply his body ached.
The tiger even tried to bat at him with its paws and claw at him, but his position combined with the beasts own mass made it less than effective. A few nicks here and there, nothing serious.
'That's your weakness, kitty cat,' the man thought, gritting his teeth as they were unveiled in a wild, fearsome grin. 'Without opposable thumbs to grip with, getting rid off me is a futile struggle! All I have to do is outlast this ordeal, and it's curtains to you!'
It started as a low chuckle as the danger brought out his primal survival instincts, developing into more overt cackling as the tiger's movements started to slow as it started to run out of air. The man was ecstatic! He could survive this! He could win!
He- 'Wait...something's off!' a thought came to him like a bolt of lightning as he felt a shift. All of a sudden he was rising higher off the ground and his chokehold changed without his input. It was no longer as firm and he made a snap motion to alter it before he felt something grasp onto his torso.
Grasp. As in, something a hand did.
"Wha-" He gasped as his rib cage groaned under sudden appliance of pressure, enough so that his hold broke as his body was wrested off the beasts body. A large hand had a firm grip on his torso as he was brought around to face bared fangs and a pair of very, very pissed off yellow slitted feline eyes.
'Oh fuck!' his mind provided as a mote of information rose from his haze of a memory, something pertinent as he registered that the beast was now a far taller at something around 12 feet, bipedal, and with a humanoid frame covered in fur and stripes. 'A Devil Fruit! The tiger's a god damn Zoan!'
The humanoid tiger growled viciously, fangs bared in an obvious show of anger, before it roared right in the man's face. The much smaller man, in all his 5' 3'' glory, reacted less on reason and more on instinctual reflex.
He swung the branch still in his hand with all his might, striking the humanoid tiger right in the lower side of its jaw. It did close to no real damage, but did serve the purpose of both flummoxing the beast at the sudden action, as well as jolting its brain, briefly stunning it. The man felt the grip on him slacked, but not enough to fully release him.
So immediately afterwards the man shoved the branch down the beats still open maw and partially down its throat. The reaction was far more immediate and violent. The beast's eyes shot wide, almost bulging outward as it gagged out a strangle cry of pain.
Good news: the grip on the man released almost immediately.
Bad news: it occurred in the form of being thrown with inhuman strength amplified by the power of a Zoan transformation.
"SHIIII-GAH!" The man cried, then grit his teeth as his body partially struck a tree, the right side of his torso clipping it quite roughly. It was hard to tell in the heat of the moment, but he could swear he heard something akin to a cracking sound. "Ghh!"
A hiss escaped through his grit teeth. His right shoulder felt off, but he had no time to dwell on it. While the impact sent his body in a slight spin, he curled into a ball and rolled to the best of his ability. The landing was rough, but he managed to stumble onto his feet and run like the fires of hell were licking his heels.
Only for a moment he glanced back to see the humanoid tiger yowling and grasping to dislodge the wooden stick from its throat, before he focused back on escaping with his life intact.
Idly he also glanced at his right shoulder, where the sleeve had ripped from the shoulder to show skin and- 'What the hell?!'
No wonder his shoulder felt weird, there were what looked like dark lines going across his skin! Almost akin to white porcelain with cracks marring its pristine surface. And even as his mind boggled at what the hell, a part of him 'helpfully' reminded him why he was running for dear life.
The man shook his head. He really didn't have time for whatever this shit was, he had way more immediate problems to deal with.
He'd had his moment as the Hunter. Time to return to being Prey. No way in hell he could beat a big ass tiger in a fight, much less a Devil Fruit fueled one he'd just pissed off beyond compare.
Everything about that tiger, and how it transformed, tickled at his memory. But, again, he didn't have the time! He needed to think, and quick!
The tiger was big, in both forms. So he just had to pick a path only he could traverse. The man rushed towards where the treeline was the thickest, and kept darting from thicket to thicket, even as he could hear the beast roar in utter, murderous fury.
He honestly couldn't blame it. He would be furious too if some random asshole shoved some wood down his throat. 'Heh, that's an double entendre if I've ever heard one! Oh, I kill myself.'
Good. Manage stress with humor. Think ahead, keep calm, maintain a clear head. Stick to narrower paths, where the beast's bulk can't fit-
"RRAAAAWR!"
"What the f-" The man had to duck and roll to avoid the swipe of a clawed hand that tore right through the trunk of a tree just behind him. Mid roll, in the moment his vision extended behind him, even if upside down, in a moment of dilated time that felt like moments trapped in an instant he saw.
It was the beast of a tiger, for certain. That his mind could not refute. But the body itself was smaller, more compact. More human-sized and looking, but the features of the wild predator were still clear to see. A mane of orange hair with stripes of black, just like the rest of the body. Limbs lithe, but powerful. The same yellow slitted eyes, however, were still just as filled with fury and murder, the teeth still as sharp and deadly.
That was all he could glimpse before the moment passed, the man finished his roll, and ran like hell. The feral almost-but-not-quite human voice roared after him in pursuit.
'Well, operation Narrow Escape is a bust,' the man could not help but gripe as he had to start making more unpredictable movements to confuse his escape path. 'Not only can it follow me anywhere I can go, it's also FASTER THAN ME!'
He had to duck behind a tree to escape another swipe at his head, cleverly circling the trunk by grasping onto a hanging vine and swinging back around to kick the tiger person in the back of the head while it still had poor balance. While it tumbled on the ground with a snarl, he used the beasts head as a stepping stone and ran as fast as his legs allowed.
'I need a new plan,' his mind whirred with activity. 'In brute strength, I lose. In martial skill, I might win, but I have no weapon on hand. In a chase scenario, I lose. Have to be more clever! Come on, think!'
He was grasping at straws. There was just not. Enough. Time!
Then. Providence, or maybe fate. He didn't care. All he cared about was that he could smell a very specific scent. The scent of salty air. A feral smile settled on his lips. He had a crazy idea. Not all was lost yet!
The tiger person lunged at him, so the man did something unpredictable. He dove forward, hand meeting the ground and legs interlocking around the tiger person's waist, and bending his weight forwards. In an arch, his back bent in a display of great flexibility and carried the beast with the motion until its skull impacted a nearby rock with a yowl of hurt.
The man for his part let go with his legs and in the same, smooth motion flipped back to his feet and altered his course. He had a concrete goal now, but all he could think in the moment was, 'Holy SHIT! How the hell did I do that?!'
The desperation to survive was one hell of a drug, he supposed. But the ego-trip could wait.
He continued running, letting his nose guide him and keeping his ears peeled for a specific type of sound. The howl of rage rang loud and clear, so his pursuer was still honed on murdering him. Good, he needed that thing as mad as possible, and so far his success at that was in excess.
When his ears picked out the sound he was seeking for, he could not stop the lightly tired chuckle leaving his throat. "Kehehe. Prey. Hunter. Nice, binary roles. But I'm not one to conform to that tripe!"
With one last push of speed the man broke out of the treeline and into the glaring sunlight. As he pivoted mid-movement at the edge to face the tiger person just behind him, mid-pounce and ready to rake its claws at his flesh, the man could only meet the murderous glower with a feral look of his own. "That's the difference between us!"
The man grabbed hold of the outreached clawed hand by the wrist and kicked back, allowing their combined momentum to carry both of them over the edge of the cliff face overlooking the vast ocean below.
'Too bad. If you were just a mere tiger, this would have no hope of working. But unfortunately, you just had to take a bite out of something you shouldn't have,' the man thought as his grin grew more fierce. The tiger person's mouth was opened in a roar, eyes shining with fury, utterly ignorant of what was about to happen. 'Unlucky for you. A Hunter just hunts down Prey, and the Prey just struggles to escape. That's all those role serve. But a Survivor like me will fulfill any role necessary to live!'
With one large inhale on his part, the man and human-like tiger fell into the ocean with a large splash, and ignorance of how a Devil Fruit affected the user be damned, the human-like beasts reaction was almost immediate. Its eyes widened as all strength it had was sapped away, all the power once held slipping away, only allowing for a slow, weak struggle as the man did his part and dragged them both deeper.
The tiger person's mouth opened as if to scream, the expression on its human-like face changing from rage to that of primal terror, inadvertently inhaling sea water in the process. The man, by contrast, was calm and composed. His breath stayed within him. A Survivor who'd overcome a trial, victorious.
He detached from his foe, the body of which tried to move in vain as he swam to gain distance. It was desperately trying to reach the surface, but its body just lacked any of the strength required to do so. The man watched as the small, feeble movements of the human-like body slowed second by second.
He should have just swam up and revel in his victory. Leave the monstrous tiger to its fate and be done with this entire thing. With the curse of the Devil Fruit, the utter inability to swim, it would be going nowhere except down, like the 'hammer' that it was. It was just a dumb big cat anyway.
Even in 'Human-form' many animal-like traits remained, so it wasn't a person who had eaten the Cat-Cat Fruit, Model: Tiger or some such. It was just a dumb, simple animal with some human-type Zoan Fruit.
This was true, in his rational mind. A god damn fact.
Except...now that it wasn't twisted with anger and fury, it was really damn hard to ignore the intelligence, however limited, in those human-like eyes. The panic of drowning, the fear of death...the desperation to live, even when the eyes started to dim as consciousness started to fade. A clawed hand weakly reaching for the sun shining through the surface, in vain.
It was so, so damn hard not to see a semblance of humanity, somewhere in this being. It was a sad, pathetic sight.
…
…
…
'It's an absolutely moronic thing to do,' the man scolded himself as her broke the surface and took a fresh breath of air. The tiger woman lay on his back, utterly lacking in consciousness as he began to swim towards the shore not too far away. 'Good fucking hell, why can't I just be a heartless monster? This is going to be such a pain!'
His vision grew bleary and fuzzy, which he shook his head clear of. Did nothing to the sudden onset of fatigue that was creeping in though. 'Weird...must be the adrenaline finally going away. Getting kind of tired...'
Before he reached the beach he almost fell asleep before a brief inhale of sea water woke him right back up. But he did eventually manage to drag himself and the dead weight on his back out of the water and onto the sand.
He shook his head and slapped himself sharply to clear his bleary mind. Right, he wasn't done yet. He'd done the dumb thing and decided to save this things life, so he wasn't about to do things by halves!
That resolve didn't make what was necessary something he liked by any metric. "Better be thankful for this, you damn cat!"
All the man could think of as he forced himself to give CPR to the tiger that currently only looked like a humanesque person was that, despite the light covering of reddish orange black-striped fur still adorning its body, it didn't change the fact that it was also very naked. Being wet just made it worse actually, leaving almost nothing to his imagination. Not to make any mention of the smell of wet fur.
Unable to tune out the fact that the tiger person was, as it turns out, a female, the man soldiered on and committed himself to not think about it and focus on breathing life back into this damn thing.
It was almost a relief when, after one more set of chest compressions, the tiger woman jolted awake just long enough to roll to their side, hacking and vomiting the sea water out of their system, before limply flopping back onto the sand, out cold.
"Finally," the man sighed, allowing himself to fall on his ass. Weirdly, the previous fatigue had faded as he'd performed his task. He chose not to question it. Checking his shoulder, the cracks he'd sworn were there just a little while ago were gone, the pale skin once more damn near flawless. He was pretty close to believing he'd just imagined the whole thing. Except doubt was for cowards and the lack of damage was even more suspicious than before! He was dead certain he'd at least hurt that shoulder!
He was just so done with all this. Even the state of the dress he was wearing, ruined and clinging to his body with a horrendously soggy sensation couldn't faze him right now. And he still couldn't remember damn near anything!
Actually, now that he finally had a moment to breathe, he didn't like his current anonymity. He was damn sure he had a name. It just wouldn't come to him. Some memory and knowledge had trickled back in the heat of the moment, like what a Devil Fruit was and their three main types. But his identity...no dice.
He was getting sick of it. So he perused what he did recall for inspiration. If he couldn't recall who he was, he could damn well come up with a placeholder!
The recent events rolled back to him like film. The chase, where he was Prey. The retaliation, where he took on the brief role of a Hunter. Even if it didn't end in his favor, he'd embodied what it meant to hunt your preying that moment. And in the end, had even prevailed by causing harm, even if somewhat indirectly.
In simpler terms, he'd had stints as both the Victim and the Perpetrator during this entire bout. Both contrasting roles he played as best he could to survive. And that idea brought forth a story from the recesses of his mind.
'The tale of two brothers, seeking the approval of their deity. Through jealousy and a sense of inadequacy, one murdered the other, the two becoming the first Murderer, and the first Victim.'
The man mulled the tale over. It would be more symbolic than anything, and more than a bit pretentious, but he honesty didn't give a damn. "Cain Abel. I am one or both, as necessary. That's what it means to survive."
And that was that. It was a name as good as any, for the moment. And it was at least a start.
Actually, now that there was space for it, the newly named man decided to search for any belongings. There hadn't really been time for it before. All he knew was that he didn't have a weapon readily available. But surely he'd be smart enough to have something on his person?
As it turned out, yes, he did! Around his waist was strapped a dark brown double sided waist bag he'd utterly failed to register in the heat of the moment. Which was almost hysterical because it wasn't exactly a subtle thing.
Whatever contents they had was surely soaked, and indeed some of the first things Abel fished out were soggy papers that damn near broke in his hands, the lettering on them rendered utterly undecipherable.
"There go the first clues," he sardonically grunted, emptying the bags of all the wet detritus. In the process he wound an ivory lighter. As in, made of actual bone that was polished to a sheen and engraved with a pattern he didn't recognize. A circle with an internal wire pattern that looked fancy, but told him absolutely nothing. It also didn't work, probably because it was so thoroughly doused, so he put it aside.
Everything else was barely even miscellany. A small letter opener(or a crappy tiny knife), an inkwell and an ink pen, empty papers and letter envelopes that had been ruined with the rest. Some of those items indicated correspondence of some level. Not much to go on, but better than nothing.
The strangest thing he found however, really puzzled him. A round object that fit in his hand, pure white and perfectly smooth to the touch.
"A cue ball?" Abel questioned out loud. Why the hell was he carrying around a random billiards ball? That made no sense!
Still, setting that weirdness aside, there was nothing else of of note. Not much, but enough for Abel to speculate that he'd been on this island for some purpose, before losing most of his memory. Which could also imply...
"...I could have a base of operations somewhere," he finished his thought out loud. "Or better yet, I had to arrive by some means, so there's could be some kind of vessel tucked away around here."
Speculation, but not of a foundless sort. He could work with that. Worst case scenario, he might be able to jury-rig together a half-decent raft.
As for why he would be here in the first place, well...
Something tickled at his memory again, very faintly. Following the flow of that feeling, Abel allowed his eyes to move on auto-pilot, landing on the unconscious tiger person. Now free of stressors, he had the moment to just inspect it- her- whatever.
The human shape was definitely there. Slender, athletic physique, with plenty of feminine features like a slim waist and a slight swell of the chest that Abel judged just a few degrees above flat. All covered in a thin layer of the reddish-orange fur with stripes, save a paler section on the front of the body. As dampness had matted the fur he didn't linger on such things. Not out of any real sense of decency, the whole thing just made him feel weird. An uncomfortable weird, not freaky weird.
He instead focused on the face. Wild, messy hair that could semi-accurately be called a mane that matched the color of the fur and also had black stripes among the strands. There were some obvious animalistic carry-overs, like the nose resembling the snout of a tiger, being a bit wider and more textured more than a human nose. Or the slitted eyes, sharp teeth, and claws that he'd become dangerously familiar with.
But aside from that...the shape of it- her face was off. The brow ridge was too pronounced. Out of curiosity, Abel scooted over and felt around the tiger-person's skull, finding it oddly shaped and ever so slightly elongated backwards. The mane of hair hid the deformation well, but it was still there. Now that he was closer, the cheekbones also seemed to angulate in an off manner, and the jaw was slightly slanted.
Now, that alone wasn't strange. Unusual and aberrant skull formation were rare, certainly, but in certain parts of the Blue Seas, and especially in the Grand Line, they did occur with some regularity. But his instincts told him that this was significant somehow.
His memory tickled at him again. Something told Abel that perhaps he was closer to his reason for originally coming to this island than he first thought. Whatever that reason actually was. So he tried to dig deeper, as if willing the memory to resurface.
It didn't. At least not to the extent he'd liked. There was no answer to his driving questions, but a nugget of information did fall free and into his metaphorical hands.
Information on a Devil Fruit. A specific one that fit the recent criteria he'd figured out partly on accident. An answer to at least one thing since he woke up with fuck all in his noggin. No intricate details, or a reason why he knew it at all. Just the name.
"Human-Human Fruit, Model: Neanderthal," Abel spoke out loud, cementing the knowledge in his frazzled mind as fact. With that detail, came another minor one. The man slowly looked at the unconscious tiger woman with an undercurrent of muted dread. "An Ancient Zoan..." The crossdresser leaned back on his arms, staring at the clouds in the sky with a blank expression. "Holy crap."
He was so lucky to still be alive. Also, the fact that he'd not just survived, but won, certainly did wonders to his ego.
That minor mental crisis aside, it was clear to him now. His memories were still there, somewhere in the all consuming haze. Certain things had already trickled back to him, such as basic skills for survival. He felt like he'd need those, worse comes to worst. He knew what Devil Fruits were, and their chief weakness of standing water. He vaguely knew that wherever he was, it wasn't the nightmarish madhouse called the Grand Line. One of the Four Seas, but which one?
He postulated based on- admittedly sparse -clues that he was on a mission. What was it, other than it somehow involved the tiger lady by proxy? Why? To seek the Devil Fruit, or the current user? Was it personal, or on someone's behalf? The indication of correspondence implied it, but did not confirm. Those questions he had no answers for.
It nettled him. It nettled him something fierce.
A question remained, though, and it was of a more pressing nature. A problem he'd have to figure out an answer to pretty soon, or else he'd be right back to where he started.
"Now then," Abel muttered to himself, casting his eye back on the human tiger(not to be confused with a tiger human, a wholly different thing), "what the hell to do with you?"
X~ = = = = = = = = = = = ~X
And so, with an immediate brush with danger
The start of a new saga of a certain man
A story of discovery and overcoming peril
A search for the answer to the great question:
"Who am I?"
…
And,
"Who will I become?"
X~ = = = = = = = = = = = ~X
-Authors Notes-
It begins! The fresh new start for an old, familiar face. The total re-work of one of my oldest works! The successor to The Chronicler: Imagine Dreamers!
Cain Abel, in all his cross-dressing glory, enters the fray in a very in-character manner: in immediate danger afainst a foe he can't possibly beat in a fair fight and damn nearly gets his shit kicked in, while all he can do is run, delay, and try not to die until he can figure out a win condition. The Weakest Person in all Blue Seas, folks! Though the nature of this weakness is a bit different this time around.
Speaking of, it should be evident that some things will be different this time around. Amnesia being just one aspect, as is the implication that Abel's been around and doing some nebulous 'stuff' well before this story even started. Unlike last time, I've chosen to distance this telling from the 'Self/OC-insert'-genre, though I would be a filthy liar if I said that aspect was wholly absent. We'll figure it out eventually ;)
Also, it's not a proper adventure if Abel doesn't somehow end up losing his current wig, so some things always stay the same! Gotta keep a running gag going, right Crocus?
Also. Tiger girl. Tiger girl? Tiger girl! A tiger, that is also a girl, sometimes! Utterly Meowrvelous! :3
Hey, if Cross from the hit OP FanFic This Bites! gets an animal companion with a Devil Fruit power on his first stop on Mr. Oda's Wild Ride, then by golly, so will our belligerent jerk-face! The poor bastard needs something to keep his frail ass alive on this trip.
More of this whole strange circumstance will be explored in the next chapter as we officially start the 'prologue' arcs of this story. The quite short "Lost Dreamer Arc", followed up by the "[-Redacted-] Arc" and the "[-Redacted-] Arc" that will compose the initial part of this tale, the "Dreaming Dawn Saga". They should be a couple chapters each. It will be a bit of a journey unto itself before a certain crew of lovable chaotic misfits enter the fray in person, so please hang in there!
…
Now, be patient, my readers! One of my personal goals this time is to NOT produce huge 10k monster chapters as to keep these on the shorter side, if I can help it, which should in theory help with general output. That said, as with all my other works, my update schedule is aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA