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Kindred Spirits Complete	By : RedelliaValentinos Category: +1 through F > Danny Phantom Views: 507 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom, I don't own any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from writing this story, I write this purely for the enjoyment of writing. It's just me and a keyboard and my wild brain.

Chapter List
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Everything is....hazy. There, but distant. Sensation crawls in slowly.
The plush comforter greets Danny's fingertips first. Soft, high thread-count, gentle against his skin. Moving his hand is tricky. Like working through fuzzy fluffy syrup. His nerves crackle to life at a snail's pace. He can almost feel the electricity sluggishly dragging its way to his spinal cord. Akin to sludge. When it finally reaches, the rest comes in a bit faster. There's a foreign scraping sound in the background that catches his attention and he struggles to push himself up. Everything feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. Like dead weight.
A portion of his brain snickers at the accidental pun.
But he does get himself to sit upright. Aside from the syrupy feeling, he feels relaxed. Rested, even. For the first time in a while. It's kind of nice, actually. He pushes the blanket aside to find that he's in a loose red T-shirt and black leggings cut to capri length, and his tail has been unwound from his leg.
A mild surprise, but not one to worry about.
He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, then pauses. He's not really sure how long it's been, and he'd prefer to not fall to the floor the minute he stands up. With a huff, he scoots himself over until the poster is within reach and grabs onto it. Carefully, he shifts off the bed, feet to the floor, grasping the post firmly.
Vlad would be thrilled to realize he remembered. And learned.
It's a little awkward at first. His legs are definitely still waking up. The sensation of feeling like an anchor is gradually leaving his body, mostly. Save for his tail, which always acts as a counterweight. He wobbles a little when he puts more weight on his limbs, tail nervously twitching, so he holds onto the post. Curling his toes into the carpet seems to help him wake the rest of the extremities. He lets go of the poster a few minutes later. He's still a tad unsteady and decides to just stand in place for a moment.
"Okay...where...?" Looking around, he recognizes the room instantly. A faint little jab in his stomach reminds him why, and he feels his face heat up a little.
"Right. Um..." Danny cautiously lifts his shirt to look at his stomach. On the surface, everything looks the same. Though he knows better, he hesitates to touch. He knows what the spell looks like. He's got the general gist of what it's supposed to do. But he's not really sure if he's ready to iron out the finer details. There's a lump in his throat that's formed at the concept of seeing and feeling the difference. ...for his own sanity, Danny decides now isn't the time and pulls his shirt back down. Even as his mind promptly floods with ideas and conversations that seem like an excellent use of his time. The images rile him a little.
But now is not the time to experiment.
Danny takes a few steps around the room to ground himself and distract, intently focusing on the feel of the carpet under his feet. How the woven material itches slightly at his skin. How it sounds when he shuffles his walk. Back and forth, slowly regaining control.
By the time he's sure of his movements, everything feels right again. That scraping sound is still going in the background, and there's voices paired with it. Which he can hear now that he's both awake and vertical. One sounds like Vlad, and the other sounds like... It sounds like Vlad, so much like his inflections and language. It's just lower.
It has him curious. As far as he knows, and he knows so little, Vlad has no relatives. And then the voices go silent as he nudges his door open.
As he cautiously slinks down the hall, he feels the temperature change and detects hints of char and wood. With an essence of brimstone. There's a faintly sweet scent underneath that he doesn't recognize. When he turns the bend to the foyer, fading salt and muck clogs his sinuses. Another step and he finds it muddled with what he can only guess is bleach and pine-sol. The blended concoction is caustic to his nasal passage; a high pitched whine escapes as he pinches at his nose and covers it with both hands for relief. It takes a few minutes of fussing and sniffing and pinching before he adjusts.
The fact that the foyer has been cleaned so harshly is upsetting. The typical smells of firewood and old paper are what he favors the most. He wonders what happened to warrant such sterilization. A crouching walk puts him closer to the chemicals that have altered the space and he wanders out slowly. Walking on his toes and curling his tail into a near perfect "U" allows Danny to lean forward and examine the stonework without falling over.
He comes upon multiple chips and scratches in the granite itself. All at varying angles and depths. In one scarring, a tint of rust seems to stain the material. His pupils thin to feline slits and he sniffs the air again. Buried beneath the acrid mixture, Danny picks up the tiniest hint, the barest minimum of copper. Peering out into the empty room casts visions of claws and snarling and bursts of vibrant lights. He can hear fabric tearing, can just barely make out two pairs of wings in a flurry, black and teal an-
-A door opens behind Danny and he startles; the vision fades. He turns around, maintaining his low stance.
-
Vlad wasn't expecting Danny to be up. He wasn't even expecting him to be awake. The hope had been there, as he had enabled the youth to sleep through the worst of the spell's manifestation. But given how susceptible he'd been to the process, so much so that the fever set in before the cramping, his expectations were quite low.
So to hear the second heartbeat in the distance kick up was of mild interest. Hearing the door open was curious. There was a rather high pitched squeak or keening that he's unfamiliar with, and it alerted both of them. Plasmius had frozen in place and stared in the direction of the sound.
There were no footsteps to listen for, which frustrated both halves. All that could be detected following that strange little noise was a heartbeat that's progressively getting closer. Vlad strains his ears to follow it, Plasmius sniffs for a scent at the library door.
It's an unusual contrast between them, Vlad finds. With them split apart in this manner, they each react differently. The difference between humanoid and beast, one could suppose. But he suspects that once they're in one piece, whatever reactions had in the future will be a blend of the two.
Plasmius silently looks back at its human part, hovering by the door. Clearly eager to see, but nervous at the same time. Vlad's own stomach flips uncomfortably, rolling in butterfly acid and he swallows the anxious bile back down. Because Danny hasn't called out to him, hasn't pushed doors open in searching and isn't even wandering the manor, they're both unsure of what to expect.
There's a feeling, deep in the pits of both of their cores and vibrating the chain binding them, of an animal on the other side of the door.
A creature they've never met, never seen.
A slight sense of real danger creeping up and equally whimpering behind them.
Plasmius' eyes fall on the handle and fixate on its surface. But the gargoyle doesn't reach for it. Too unsure. Too nervous. Too afraid. Not of how it will respond to the younger halfa's presence, as it's responding already, albeit in a rather cowardly manner. It's afraid of how the youth will respond to it. And Vlad can feel that discomfort, can see the wibbly wobbling waves of jumbled colors pouring off of the gargoyle. It's almost suffocating.
But, there's only one way they'll know. Vlad huffs a shuddering sigh and turns the knob.
-
Vlad steps out into ominous silence. For a moment, it almost seems as if Danny doesn't recognize him. Hunkering low to the floor with sooted sclera and ectoplasmic eyes paints a display of a deer caught in headlights.
He's vaguely familiar with the teen's more primal behaviors. He's encountered them twice, and he decides that what he's met only scratches the surface. Stalking, growling and biting are basic mannerisms in comparison to what he sees now.
Danny tilts his head slightly and his nostrils flare as he takes in more scent. His mouth is just ajar, just enough for Vlad to see his tongue shift. The elder blinks in confusion at the action before mentally slapping himself. He'd forgotten about the thermoreceptors. When he takes another step forward, the chain instantly scrapes the floor. Danny jerks in surprise and his eyes fall on the glowing metal. His tail shifts behind him, ruffled by the bind. Crawling along the stonework by hands and feet, circling, green eyes seem to hyperfocus on the links.
The movements are both feline esque and not. Fluid and graceful, like flowing water. Calculated even. A low clicking rumble trickles out to match the studying glare.
Vlad shifts his stance to both maintain a healthy distance and equally consider the youth.
Despite Danny's human facade, the older halfa is forced to wonder just how much actual humanity is left. The youth has the ability to become a predator that has yet to be recognized. He shifts between the two mental states with frightening ease and can maintain his baseline cognition. The human portions of his mind are not damaged by the change.
Behind him, Vlad hears Plasmius shift its footing. He feels the heat of its body approach and hears his own heart skip a beat when Danny's eyes peer up. His tail stiffens and he freezes at the sight of the hulking beast.
"Uh, I wouldn't," the human half utters quietly.
"He's just a child," the demon replies stepping around him.
"That is not a child."
Danny remains still, but Vlad observes two black spines erupt between his shoulder blades, tearing two holes through the shirt.
"That is a challenge."
The gargoyle stops and looks at the boy. It takes another step closer, and Danny backs up slightly. Which saddens Plasmius.
"That's not a challenge. That's a fear response. Here," it crouches down and extends an open hand towards him.
Danny's eyes fluctuates in response, fluttering between green and cyan back and forth as he looks at the offered extremity. He Inches forward, unsure and sniffing at it. The scent is the same, which piques interest.
Vlad swallows as the changing of color slows and the toxic ecto-glare finally fades away to the natural cyan. Danny leans into the open hand with a soft trill as he turns his focus onto Plasmius' face. The skin tone is right, all things considered. Warmed from within, stone in feeling, but soft. Why there's two of them is beyond him. But everything matches otherwise.
Recognition seeps in and the black staining his sclera clears.
"There you are, pet."
Danny pulls away, pupils dilating back to human. Scrambling back several feet as the spines on his back recede. Blinking and rubbing at his eyes to clear his head and vision, fussing to get himself back to a normal state.
Vlad sighs in relief as the tension finally shatters away and Plasmius stands up. It approaches again, this time with less concern over how the youth will respond. And it's here that the human half of the pair observes something else. His own tendencies, to be polite and proper, seem to have leeched into the gargoyle. It tucks one arm behind its back and offers its hand again.
"Are you well, little невеста?"
Danny looks up, alerted, with clear eyes. The offered hand still lingers, attached to what he can only assume was the cause of the last several years' worth of headaches and heartache. He recognizes the form easily. It's definitely Vlad. Definitely Plasmius. But it's a lot taller than he remembers it being. Broader shoulders, longer nails, longer fangs and...wings? Cyan irises dart all over the place, taking in as much information as they possibly can before falling back onto the assist being offered.
"Um..."
There's more to look at, Danny realizes. He nervously places his own pale hand into the other and mentally gawks at the difference in size. Standing up, color rushes to his face in a vibrant pink, the warmth rattling his skin. The flush trails down the back of his neck, down his arms, he can even feel his tail heating up. Somewhere in his brain, he remembers that cold showers are a thing of the past.
"I..."
He tries to form a sentence as he looks up. Or a word. Or a sound, or something. A single sylable might suffice. But his mouth glues itself shut. There's a lot more to look at. More to see, more to...to cuddle with... More to...
"You're not making a very good first impression, pet. Have you nothing to say?"
"...I think I'm fucked."
-
невеста (nevesta) = bride
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Kindred Spirits Complete