( He doesn't remember how he ends up at John Constantine's old shop, the one that Luna and Willow take care of now. It must be some memory of a familiar place that draws him there in the throes of his confusion, and somehow he's inside and slipping past shelves of ancient things, books and crystals and herbs. Things that call to his very spirit itself, and yet some part of him is almost repulsed by them in the moment. He doesn't understand who, what, he is; he's upset in his confusion.
He's agitated by it, like a wounded animal baring its teeth. Only what he targets is himself, swiping at his chest, nails digging into the material of clothing he doesn't remember putting on and doesn't feel familiar — it's someone else's, a young man's sweater, but it's not his. This body isn't his and he wants it gone, wants out of it.
But it's not enough, his human's blunt fingernails can't claw through the warm material, and he starts snarling loudly, jerking erratically to the side, shoulder bumping roughly against a nearby shelf. A few items clatter to the floor and the loud noise frightens him; the demon flinches quickly away, inhumanly fast, scrambling up to safety — right up the closest wall to press himself tightly against the corner of the ceiling where he stares down wide-eyed and trembling. )
— Willow Rosenberg (cw: identity confusion, gestures of self harm, spooky demon behaviour)
He's agitated by it, like a wounded animal baring its teeth. Only what he targets is himself, swiping at his chest, nails digging into the material of clothing he doesn't remember putting on and doesn't feel familiar — it's someone else's, a young man's sweater, but it's not his. This body isn't his and he wants it gone, wants out of it.
But it's not enough, his human's blunt fingernails can't claw through the warm material, and he starts snarling loudly, jerking erratically to the side, shoulder bumping roughly against a nearby shelf. A few items clatter to the floor and the loud noise frightens him; the demon flinches quickly away, inhumanly fast, scrambling up to safety — right up the closest wall to press himself tightly against the corner of the ceiling where he stares down wide-eyed and trembling. )