A ringing voice cut through Diego's consciousness and jolted him awake. Sluggish memories crawled back into his head as he lay, stunned, and informed him that the voice had said something about... pork. Whatever that was.
"Sid?" he asked faintly, frowning up at an unnaturally white surface. Wasn't he supposed to be dead? Didn't he - oh, wait. Was this wherever you went when you died?
A sterile scent, mixed with the smell of meat and fire, filled his nostrils. A strange, soft sensation pushed up underneath him. His vision was blurry, rendering him incapable of seeing more than the white surface above him... but not white because of snow or ice. It wasn't cold enough.
Diego tried to stand up to examine his surroundings more thoroughly and find out where the owner of the voice was. That plan didn't work out quite as well as he hoped it would, since to Diego's utter surprise, his idea of standing up didn't quite work out with his body's idea. His brain was preparing his muscles to roll up onto all fours and step forward. His muscles completely ignored that and worked off of some other set of orders that somehow involved lurching forward off the soft ground, trying to land on two paws in the dip below. The two trains of thought collided, and Diego's body went rolling off onto a ground that was much harder. He yowled and madly scrambled for the soft surface that was now somehow above him, which also didn't work due to the nonexistence of his front claws.
No... front... claws.
Diego lay still for a second. Only two paws, limbs much longer than he remembered, the comforting feel of his teeth against his fur gone...
Oh no. He was turning into Sid.
Before that realization could dawn out into any kind of a conclusion, Diego became acutely aware of a pair of eyes watching him.
He turned his head slowly, trying to make out the figure. Everything felt mismatched and blurry and wrong right now, and the annoying sensation of being watched wasn't helping.
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"Sid?" he asked faintly, frowning up at an unnaturally white surface. Wasn't he supposed to be dead? Didn't he - oh, wait. Was this wherever you went when you died?
A sterile scent, mixed with the smell of meat and fire, filled his nostrils. A strange, soft sensation pushed up underneath him. His vision was blurry, rendering him incapable of seeing more than the white surface above him... but not white because of snow or ice. It wasn't cold enough.
Diego tried to stand up to examine his surroundings more thoroughly and find out where the owner of the voice was. That plan didn't work out quite as well as he hoped it would, since to Diego's utter surprise, his idea of standing up didn't quite work out with his body's idea. His brain was preparing his muscles to roll up onto all fours and step forward. His muscles completely ignored that and worked off of some other set of orders that somehow involved lurching forward off the soft ground, trying to land on two paws in the dip below. The two trains of thought collided, and Diego's body went rolling off onto a ground that was much harder. He yowled and madly scrambled for the soft surface that was now somehow above him, which also didn't work due to the nonexistence of his front claws.
No... front... claws.
Diego lay still for a second. Only two paws, limbs much longer than he remembered, the comforting feel of his teeth against his fur gone...
Oh no. He was turning into Sid.
Before that realization could dawn out into any kind of a conclusion, Diego became acutely aware of a pair of eyes watching him.
He turned his head slowly, trying to make out the figure. Everything felt mismatched and blurry and wrong right now, and the annoying sensation of being watched wasn't helping.