The fallen Master had to admit, he somewhat liked being a flower.


The sole reason being that he could pretend that he was dead, just to close himself off from the rest of the world for awhile... He couldn't see, but he could feel with the fuzzed vines that swept about to stroke the fur of his loved ones.


Still... the ex-fawn carried the dreaded feeling that he wasn't as welcome at the tree he had grown on as he had originally thought


Jergens was resting there, though at almost every one of the plant's own touches would be pushed away... more out of moodiness than actual spite.


It still hurt him, though. All this time... giving his immortality to this stag... and this was all the thanks he got...


In a way, he felt as if he was nothing more than a hazy memory to the gore crusted stag. An old forgotten toy that was tossed away when it's seams ripped.


Sad, but it was how most broken relationships tended to end.


With these melancholic thoughts, his mind went to another topic that had troubled him as of late.


...


No...


Not yet...


Thinking about him would only add to his own plate of despair.


It was getting colder...


He was already wilting... Ha... wilting...


Stupid...


Why a flower, anyway?


It seemed so silly that the Gods would ressurect him into something so pointless since winter was soon to arrive...


Maybe he would find out later...


Sooner than later, really...


The edges on his petals had begun to brown, tearing away from one another...


Really, Bartleby couldn't have been happier.


Eh?


A sudden gust of wind blew by, ripping away both leaves and petals alike, leaving nothing but the browning web of vines that curled about the tree's bark.


...That seemed to do it...


Finally, thank God...


---


You arrived faster than we had planned, Bartleby


(Yes, I know...)


You understand why you were reborn as such, don't you?


(...I... I think I do... yes)


Tell us


(I was so that I could see...)


That he dosen't love you anymore.


(...)


We've prepared another form for you... but there are... strings attatched, so to speak...


(What? What sort of 'strings'?)


...


You'll see...


---


Drip... plip...


Something... something hot on his back...


...Back?


Eyes opened (eyes?), looking ahead curiously. He could tell without moving his head (head?) that he was in front of the twin God statues...


Plip....


Annoyed, he slowly moved his head up, and looked down first, suppressing a surprised gasp when he found two familiar pretty golden hooves staring back at him.

...!!! Could it be...?

He looked at his coat, noting it's greyish tint rather than the brilliant white that it once was.

plop...

He kept feeling something fall onto his back... With a slow crane of the neck, he found that the source of the heat was hot, molten wax the color of gold falling onto his thick coat, hardening there into a thick, shiny yellow film that most certainly contrasted with his pelt's greyish color.

His head felt heavy, and he could only assume that he wore candles atop of his antlers.

....Antlers....


...


He was a stag...


The thought alone made him jump to his hooves in giddiness, practically shaking in delight.


He turned to the statues, and offered as low of a bow as he could imagine.


"Thank you... Thank you so much..." he mumbled, tears at the corners of his eyes... which were not a dark red, but a dark olive...


The Gods said nothing in reply, save for a tiny whisper...


Bartleby didn't hear it, but he soon set off at a bounding pace to the pond.


...


Wait...


Even after the first few steps, his breath hardened, heart unnaturally speeding...


He stopped, sinking to the ground... shivering and trembling as he felt all-too-familiar pangs in his chest.


No... These can't be...


He gasped, suddenly realizing what the Gods had meant by the 'strings'.


The world istself seemed to crash around the newly born stag, and he curled into himself on his side, tears streaming from his eyes as he felt throb after throb.


...


And the worst part was...


Malware wasn't here to help him if he bled


---


((...Bartleby is reborn as a stag... though with some difficulties from his human life thrown in.

You can find him in-forest with his old picto... just as a stag. This is lazy/rushed writing. Please excuse it ;; ))