[ The creature looks... different, its body moving slower, curled into a ball like a cat as though to make itself smaller, gangly limbs folded beneath it. It seems to have slowed down, like an insect in cold weather; it's not altogether surprising, seeing as it seems to fall somewhere between that and a reptile or amphibian in its fully developed form, and he's sure, in any event, that it must be cold blooded.
And it's been away from its heat source from quite some time.
The creature doesn't immediately return to Kostya, and instead just... stares at him, like it expects him to do something. Is it that intelligent? It's a worm. A parasite. But... it's also an extraterrestrial. It showed interest in an item it hadn't seen before. He's not sure how to feel about that.
It occurs to him that it probably won't be able to get back up the bed, or move much of anywhere, in its weakened state. He does know how he feels about that: not thrilled. Uneasy. This thing definitely has the teeth to bite him, and he isn't sure that an offering of one jar of blood is enough to appease a natural predator with a long history of unpleasant interactions with humans.
If he doesn't move it, though, Kostya could die. The creature is getting weaker. Ideally he'd at least have some oven mitts, but he doesn't dare take his eyes off of it—what if it's able to use those long, almost lemurlike digits to open the window and escape or something? What then?
Vasiliy inhales deeply and lets out a slow sigh, an attempted release of tension, then leans over the bed and pulls off two pillowcases, wrapping one around each arm as a makeshift falconer's glove.
The cold wooden floorboards creak as he lowers himself into a crouch a few feet away from the alien, making direct eye contact with all eight of the glistening black eyes. He keeps his voice low—but a warning tone, if the creature can even recognize what that means. ]
Don't bite me. I'm going to help you, but you have to let me pick you up. I'm not going to hurt you. I'll drop you if you bite me.
[ He feels like fucking Steve Irwin, or whatever that man's name was. The alligator man from Australia who came on Animal Planet reruns in the nurses' breakroom sometimes.
Slowly, very slowly, Vasiliy rests one protected hand on the thing's tail, gradually sliding it toward its back, then another hand on the other side of it. He lifts the creature very awkwardly, like a cat, trying to keep its hands—paws?—together in one hand and strange hind digits together in the wrapped hand that supports its hindquarters. ]
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And it's been away from its heat source from quite some time.
The creature doesn't immediately return to Kostya, and instead just... stares at him, like it expects him to do something. Is it that intelligent? It's a worm. A parasite. But... it's also an extraterrestrial. It showed interest in an item it hadn't seen before. He's not sure how to feel about that.
It occurs to him that it probably won't be able to get back up the bed, or move much of anywhere, in its weakened state. He does know how he feels about that: not thrilled. Uneasy. This thing definitely has the teeth to bite him, and he isn't sure that an offering of one jar of blood is enough to appease a natural predator with a long history of unpleasant interactions with humans.
If he doesn't move it, though, Kostya could die. The creature is getting weaker. Ideally he'd at least have some oven mitts, but he doesn't dare take his eyes off of it—what if it's able to use those long, almost lemurlike digits to open the window and escape or something? What then?
Vasiliy inhales deeply and lets out a slow sigh, an attempted release of tension, then leans over the bed and pulls off two pillowcases, wrapping one around each arm as a makeshift falconer's glove.
The cold wooden floorboards creak as he lowers himself into a crouch a few feet away from the alien, making direct eye contact with all eight of the glistening black eyes. He keeps his voice low—but a warning tone, if the creature can even recognize what that means. ]
Don't bite me. I'm going to help you, but you have to let me pick you up. I'm not going to hurt you. I'll drop you if you bite me.
[ He feels like fucking Steve Irwin, or whatever that man's name was. The alligator man from Australia who came on Animal Planet reruns in the nurses' breakroom sometimes.
Slowly, very slowly, Vasiliy rests one protected hand on the thing's tail, gradually sliding it toward its back, then another hand on the other side of it. He lifts the creature very awkwardly, like a cat, trying to keep its hands—paws?—together in one hand and strange hind digits together in the wrapped hand that supports its hindquarters. ]