Visceral (DISCONTINUED)

Makeup

His arms felt like glass.

Or more accurately, like stark white hardened clay. He didn't know why; it just happened out of nowhere. And not just his arms. His entire self seemed to made out of the 'white clay', save for what seemed to sound like water and mechanisms sloshing inside him.

What was more fear inducing was that his body was showing cracks and fractures all over him, starting at joints like neck and elbows but being absent at his ankles and wrists. The odd cape made of magenta screens outlined in red cascaded down his back, only drawing more attention to himself. His unfortunate self.

And his face, oh dear, his face. He had many fractures and cracks stemming from his neck and eyes and stopping midway through his cheeks. His eyes were seemingly brighter and a cat's eye pupil replace his lack thereof. Even his hair came down into dense yet soft clay strands, clinking when pulled from his scalp.

Toilet hated it.

-

"Toilet!" Her voice rang from behind the door. "Someone's here to see you!"

He snuggled further into the bed covers, pulling it over his head. He groaned. "Tell them to go away..."

"But he- Hey, stop!"

"Mm?" He poked his head out. Toilet's room was pitch black, with the lights off and curtains pulled, so he couldn't really catch what he was seeing. He could hear struggling and yelling.

A sudden sound of shattering porcelain caught his attention. Shying behind the foot of the bed board, he squinted. The door was then thrust open, hitting the wall loudly. A figure before him was hidden to Toilet by its shadow.

The figure didn't speak, just walked to the curtains and drew them apart quickly, driving the sunlight in and slightly blinding Toilet. The figure was now visible to him.

A person about 5'6 with black messy hair with a blue stripe. A simple blue dress shoes tucked into a pair of black dress pants. He turned around and he tugged at his black bowtie. He smiled, walked to the side of the bed, and bent down.

"Hi Toilet! You like the new you?"

"Mistah... Mistah Phone?" He hadn't spoken in awhile because he hated his voice at the moment.

MePhone grinned. "Yep! The one and only! But back to you. You didn't answer my question silly." He pulled out a pair of black gloves.

"O-oh, of course." Toilet threw the covers back and shook his head. "What about me-e?"

"Well, you've been cooped up here for a bit so I guessed you noticed that you're... Oh, how do I put this? Not entirely flesh anymore?"

He gulped. "Uh, y-yeah. My everything's all, um... Like-like, glass o-or clay, or-"

"Porcelain. You're made of porcelain," MePhone finished, tugging the gloves over his hands. "As tough and as hard as Jade, you're made of porcelain."

Toilet nodded. "Mm. I d-don't really kn-know why I am, so I've jus' been h-here." He gestured around his room.

"Ah, well." MePhone twisted around before grabbing a chair and sitting in it backwards. "That does more with your abilities as the host of the Snake of Fixing Eyes."

"Fixing eyes?"

"Fixing Eyes. Fixing Eyes is quite a... quite an abrasive snake once you meet them but they are yours. They allow you to fix most anything."

Toilet shifted around to sit and face MePhone. He tilted his head. "But that d-doesn't really explain the porcelain th-thing."

"I was getting to that. Fixing made a promise to other snakes to uh, avenge them and reset the world." MePhone frowned and started again. "That's for like somewhere else but like, Fixing Eyes then kinda fused with you and that turned you into porcelain because a few snakes died. That makes you a king or something like that."