Grazing The Sky

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Lance opened his eyes. He was hanging from something, the pressure suspending him mainly on his lower stomach. His vision was blurred, but with a bit of focus he saw his arms swinging downwards, and a pair of shoes occasionally stepping into his vision.

He blinked. Was he seeing that right? It looked like there was a tail.

He reached towards it, trying to swim through the fog in his brain. Tails weren't a thing. There's no way. His hand wrapped around the base, feeling the person carrying him suddenly tense. Sharp pain met his palms, his fingers. He pulled his hand away with a quick wince.

He opened his palm, seeing the needles embedded into his skin. He was bleeding, too. Beside him, he heard someone sigh like they were relieved.

"Probably hurts, doesn't it?" The shoulder carrying him shifted, moving his body for a moment. "Let me know next time you do that, alright?"

Lance pulled his head up, enough to see they were moving down a hallway—some fancy one with bright lights and a long, elegant rug. His hand was throbbing now, the spaces underneath the punctured skin pushing more blood out to the surface. Even still, he didn't feel very much pain. His head was still foggy, too; he couldn't move very much, either.

Had he been drugged?

They'd stopped; Lance's vision was suddenly spun to the side. He kept his head up as much as possible, seeing a door on the opposite side of the hall. There were many other doors, too, on both sides.

A beep sounded behind him, a loud click accompanying it. A doorknob turned, and Lance felt himself moving again, being taken out of the hallway and into a room. Halfway through the doorway, he heard the quiet hum of lights turning on, saw the glow as they continued on.

"Huh." That same voice again. "Automatic lights. Nice touch. Almost makes it worth the price..."

He watched as they passed by a countertop, the entrance swinging shut behind them. The door slowed as it shut, making its impact nearly silent. Lance shifted his head, watching as they passed by a kitchen. Bright. Very bright.

He suddenly stopped again, movements slowing.

"Couch is probably best, right?" the person carrying him asked, speaking more to themselves than to him. Lance barely felt some pressure against his leg, a head turning in his direction. "Yeah. Glad to see you're talking."

They started moving again, Lance's vision spinning for a moment before he felt himself slipping backwards. His sight tilted to the ceiling, moving a bit further up as he was set onto a couch. Comfortable, his body sank into the leather instantly.

He blinked, trying to focus enough to keep his gaze in front of him. Someone was crouching down, meeting his gaze with their head tilted to one side.

"Looks like they've put you on some pretty heavy medication." A hand extended bringing Lance's face towards him. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Lance tried to focus on the eyes; there was something familiar about them.

"Yeah... That might take a while to wear off." He watched the eyes move, seeing worry lines decorate the space between the brows. Those eyes met his again, voice speaking directly to him. "How're you feeling? Can you talk to me?"

Lance shut his eyes, trying to focus hard enough to think straight. Form thoughts that weren't just single words.

But his tongue felt thick in his own mouth, like it didn't belong there. He didn't know where to begin—he didn't have any clue what was going on.

His hand felt like it was being pricked. He moved his head to the side, seeing fingers pulling the needles out of his skin. Those needles were long, too—at least four inches in length. When they left his skin, he watched the small amount of blood get swept away by the pad of a thumb, and the small wound instantly closed.

"Don't worry; that healing is from me. We'd be in pretty deep trouble if the cells were this far along already."

Healing? Cells? None of this was making sense...

Fatigue swept into his mind, closing his eyes to the sight of his skin healing. After what seemed like a moment later, his eyes opened again. Lance was alone, but most of his attention was on the fact his head felt so heavy. His eyes briefly shut as he moved forward, pushing himself upright on the couch. His body hurt, and something about the soreness seemed too familiar.

Lance blinked, looking around at his surroundings. There was a TV in front of him, which was nice, but it wasn't one he recognized. The couch was foreign to him, too, and the balcony off to the left side of the room was peculiar as well. Shakily, he got to his feet, bending forward slightly as he fought to regain his balance.

His mind focused in on something behind him, a pressure that zeroed in on a single spot at the back of his brain. He turned around, seeing someone at the kitchen table. Sitting down, reading something. They looked around his age.

The stranger looked up, noticing him there. For a single moment, Lance's focus was taken by dark blue eyes. Familiar ones... But somehow Lance knew he had never seen this person before.

The stranger grinned. "Hey! Glad to see you're finally up! You might wanna take a seat; this will take a while to explain." As he spoke, the empty chair across from him moved, pushed back a few inches by some invisible force.

'It's a hallucination. I have to be going crazy.'

"What?" Lance took a step back, his leg hitting the coffee table. He looked back to the table, meeting those dark eyes.

Movement caught his focus, bringing his gaze downwards. He almost jumped, somehow suppressing a curse as he spotted a tail moving. It was long, having to curve in order to not hit the tile flooring. The fur looked soft and medium-length, the longest strands residing at the tip.

"Y-You..." Words left him.

"Oh, yeah." The stranger followed his stare, as if noticing the tail was there. "Guess it's as good of a transition as any; this is what I need to talk to you about."

The limb moved as he spoke, rising upwards and allowing Lance a better look. Lance moved himself back against the coffee table a bit more, voice yelling now.

"How the hell are you doing that?"

The stranger only gave him a small grin that almost looked nervous. "Same way you would move your arm, I guess. That's kind of a hard question to answer, honestly..."

Lance tried to focus on breathing, feeling his head get light with the lack of oxygen. He couldn't look away, though, and part of him was still holding onto the idea that the tail was fake. But the way it was moving...

The limb dropped down, curling upwards as it reached the floor. As if giving a second thought, the end relaxed, completely resting on the tile.

"I have to be dreaming," Lance said aloud.

He tore his stare away, bringing it to the kitchen counter that divided the table with the sink and refrigerator. "I have to be sleeping..."

"You just woke up," the stranger replied, motioning a little to the couch with his head. "How could you still be dreaming?"

Lance looked down, hands finding his hair. "Then I'm crazy." His head shook, dismissing the thoughts telling him he wasn't. "There's no such thing as tails..."

The stranger leaned forward, hand curling outwards as if motioning for him to finish. "No such thing as tails with..."

Lance gave him a confused look. "People. People don't have tails."

Fingers snapped. "That's right! People, in other words, humans don't!"

Lance paused. His mind clicked together the explanation, the realization incredibly reluctant.

"You're saying you're not human?" he asked.

The stranger scratched the back of his hair, one eye closing in thought. "Well... We could twist that definition, but it'd take some time to explain. I mean, I'd be happy to tell you, but short answer is technically, no. We're not considered human."

"Technically?"

A hand waved, dismissing Lance's question. "I'll get to the specifics in a moment; back to me not being human."

"You're insane." These words fell from Lance's mouth in a breath. He blinked, not truly focusing on anything. "You're absolutely crazy. You're just some nutcase with..."

The napkin dispenser suddenly lifted, and Lance looked towards it. Nothing else was touching the object: no hands, no wind-devices from below or wires from above, nothing. It was floating in mid-air. Levitating.

"Like I said, I'm not human."