we can hear ourselves again
and we
are beautiful


1: Sedjet hunches down, clutching his stomach, the dark tendril of his arm whipping in the air.

2: His clothes rip and strain, bulging as his body seems to ripple from beneath the skin, his ear parting, his shoulder bulging.

3: His hand, contorted into thicker claws, rips at his back, tugging back fabric and strained, furry skin, leaving dark black flesh.

4: We see from the floor that he’s fallen to his knees, copious black and purple fluids pouring out and splashing to the floor.

5: The fully mutated and unleashed Sedjet busts forth, ripped clothing still clinging to his body. There’s no fennec left: his torso open at the top in a large, screaming, toothy maw. His arms have split into many horned, lashing tentacles. It’s a symmetrical form: four limbs, controlled tentacles, its mouth designed with purpose. No longer scrambled by the confusing radiation, the Black Mass takes on a more purposeful form.