#dumping my eating issues onto the Lamb is the best kind of therapy

[myballsitchaurghouchie]

CW: potential ED (?)

Um. Cannibal Lamb stuff. Insert title here ♡

Two hours now, the Lamb has been sitting in their hut, starring at the apple in their hand.

Far more than two hours now, they've been suffering from a pain in their stomach. Hunger.

They did not expect to still feel hungry after being resurrected as a vessel to the God of Death, it was surprising. Even more surprising was their aversion to all food presented to them.

Today they hold an apple, freshly picked by a follower. A small red and yellow thing that sits heavy in their palm. Nothing. The Lamb brings the apple up to their mouth and presses it against their lips. Nothing.

No desire to eat the fruit. Only repulsion. Their stomach hurts, acid eating at itself. It's been two hours. They're losing time.

The Lamb starres down at the apple now back in their lap - looking at anything else is migraine inducing - everything else is a blur, unfocused. The sight of this fruit, or any food, only brings an ache in their stomach. It feels full and empty at the same time.

Many times now has the Lamb inhaled sharply in an attempt to block out whatever was threatening to come cascading out of their mouth.

Still nothing. They're losing time.

They bite ever so slightly into the apple, it's all they can do, requiring an absurd amount of effort to open their mouth. It takes even more efforts to chew the fruit into something they can swallow, as they feel their throat close off.

It's sweet, sugary. Easy to reduce to a paste. It should give the Lamb a burst of energy. It's a sweet, a sickening amount of sugar. There is nothing else to it than the disgusting, overstimulating taste of sugar.

Their corner of their vision darkens. They're losing time.

The Lamb is hungry. They have to eat, lest they lose consciousness in front of their followers again.

Bite, chew, swallow. Bite, chew, swallow what is coming back up. Bite, chew, swallow despite the struggle to breath. There is no time to spare. Bite, chew, swallow.

Frustration overcomes them as a stronger, sharper pain manifests in their stomach. Once again, their body does not respond well immediatly.

Hunched over, breathing heavily, hands weak, the barely-eaten apple rolling away. Their eyes seem to dart everywhere and nowhere in the same motion.

They are losing time.

More light than desired enter the room as curtains to the Lamb's chambers are drawn open. A follower.

They are saying something. Certainly words. The Lamb, however, is only hearing the echo of their own thoughts.

I will soon fight. I have to get going. I will soon fight. I have to get going. I cannot fail. I cannot die to this fight again. He grows tired. I have to get going. I have to eat. I cannot let it back out. I cannot waste any more time. I have to fight today. I have to eat something. Anything.

A hand comes into contact with the Lamb's shoulder, at this they flinch and look up.

Their follower. Osiris. A small, light brown thing. Short fur, bigger ears than other dog followers, wet eyes. She is holding out a bowl of stew, warm, vegetables swimming about.

The Lamb looks up to face her. Wrinkles formed from years of worrying and looking out for children and her leader. Her concern is visible as she smiles at them.

A sweet thing, she is.

The Lamb's stomach growls.