back - words: 2,202 - publish date: 14 Sep 2025
"Good afternoon, Dr. Jekyll."
Mr. Utterson stood in the entrance to the lounge of his close friend, who sat across the room from him, smiling.
"No need for formalities, my friend. Please, please, take a seat."
The room was warmly lit by firelight, the faint setting sun casting rays through the window. It was always a comforting place to Utterson, the familiarity of it often improving upon his mood. This was one of the many places that the two often met, though this occasion might have been more on business.
As Utterson sat down in his usual seat, he stared across the room at Jekyll. He was a handsome man, in Utterson's opinion, and had aged quite well. They had known each other for a long time, and had shared many joyful memories together. Meetings between the two like this were not uncommon, and were quite frequent if he was to be honest. They have enjoyed each others company many times before.
The two exchanged pleasantries before beginning in conversation. It was enjoyable, just the two of them, discussing their recent endeavors as always. They eventually arrived at a comfortable silence, where Utterson recalled the initial intentions of his visit.
"Jekyll, I have been meaning to discuss matters of your will. As you know, I never approved of it."
Jekyll looked away, clearly harboring a distaste in the topic. "I am aware. I thought we agreed to drop this, Utterson."
"Yes, however, I have come to learn a bit more about this Mr. Hyde fellow, and I fear that he is no good for you."
"As I have told you, I could be rid of him any moment I pleased."
"I'm worried for you, Jekyll."
"You have no need to worry."
Utterson sighed, defeated in his efforts. It seemed impossible to get his friend to listen to him. There was still his ongoing search for some information to convince Jekyll, but alas, he had dug up nothing on that strange man.
Jekyll soon changed the topic to that of one of his on-going endeavors, trying to revive the conversation. It seemed to work, as both men were met with the silent agreement to ignore their previous disagreements for now. While Utterson didn't understand a word of what he was saying, he found his voice pleasant to listen to, as always.
The rest of there time together went on, and soon it was time for Utterson to make his departure. They said their goodbyes as he slipped his coat on, standing near the door. The two stared at each other for a few moments in silence.
"It was good to see you, Jekyll." He nodded in his direction.
"You as well," Jekyll smiled.
There was a pause, where both seemed to want to say something, but wouldn't. They stood in the silence, the air thick with tension, with unspoken words.
Without a sound, Utterson stepped out the door with a glance back before he made his way back to his own home.
On his walk home, he pondered over his previous conversation. Jekyll, as he expected, was once again quite defensive over the subject of Mr. Hyde. Every time Utterson tried to get him to tell him something, so he could help him out of this possibly dangerous situation, he shut him down, insisting that he was completely fine how he was.
So, as anyone would do, Utterson turned to searching for something to convince his friend to listen to his words, though it seemed that there was little to dig up on this man. From what he had found, he had seemed to just appear out from nowhere, though that clearly wasn't the case. That wouldn't even be possible, by the laws of the modern world.
Since that hadn't lead anywhere, he started trying to search places directly tied to Jekyll, such as places hidden around in his manor, assorted crevices and drawers around the place. While this was probably not the most ethical of actions, his goals were noble and would be a benefit to those involved.
However, the strangest place seemed to be his lab. And yes, Jekyll never did permit him to go in there. He was quite private with his work, never letting anyone into that place... though Utterson did what was best for him. Though this seemed to once again turn up nothing on Mr. Hyde. Utterson could have sworn there was some potion that he took, though it had seemed to have disappeared (and not to mention that strange dream he had some other night...). It wasn't important in that moment, he though, shaking his head.
Among his pondering, it seemed that he had arrived at his place. It was nearly dark out by now, though not that it was that much brighter when he left. Inserting his key into the door, he pushed it open, placing his coat on the rack by the entrance. This whole situation was causing him much stress and worry. Hopefully he could get away from it for awhile, let his work distract him for a while as he made his way towards his study.
He wasn't able to work for more than an hour before his mind began to wander, returning to his current problems. Not only was he busy in his thoughts about the mystery, but those memories from that strange dream had started to resurface. Something about drinking a potion...?
It didn't matter then, as far as he was concerned, it had never happened. He stood himself up and started pacing, unable to focus his mind on his work, instead ending up making himself even more stressed.
What was he to do? Everything he had tried to get his friend to listen to him failed, all his attempts to get information had turned up nothing. All this had seemed like him struggling, drowning in the ocean of mystery with no sign of land. As he paced, he noticed his legs become a bit harder to balance on, and decided to collapse into his seat. This was really having an impact on him, wasn't it?
Trying to divert his attention, he stared out the window at the nighttime streets. Some lights dotted the scene, though it was quite late by this point, not many people were awake by now.
His fingers were laced together, gripping tightly, as if bracing for some kind of impact. He felt quite odd in that moment... something was off. Normally, he would have just blamed it on the stress, though it seemed to be something else.
Deciding to ignore it for as long as he could, he continued gazing out the window, however this wasn't enough of a distraction when the pain started gnawing at his chest. He shifted in his seat as his muscles contracted and stretched. This definitely wasn't caused by the stress.
He tried to stand him self up, but found that he was much to weak to do so, falling back into his seat. It wasn't long before he found himself nearly writhing in pain where he was, unable to move.
Clutching at his sides, he attempted to focus on something, anything else. He felt nearly consumed by the pain, like nothing else had before. Like something was ripping at his insides, and it wasn't going to stop any time soon.
For all he knew, it could have lasted for seconds or for hours, though eventually, he was met with the sensation of relief as the pain started to die down.
After that all had subsided, Gabriel was awkwardly slouched in his chair, staring out at nothing in particular. Odd. He stood up, nearly loosing his balance, and stretched his aching limbs. He caught a glimpse of his arms in doing so, where he briefly noted that they appeared... off. It took a moment for him to acknowledge this, but he eventually though about it for longer, realizing this was not right.
Now that he though about it, they looked like how he recalled in that strange dream from a few nights ago. Was this a dream as well? Surely not, everything was much to clear for it to be.
Glancing around the room, he strolled around a bit, not really certain on what he was going to do. What was he just thinking about? Something to do with Jekyll? Whatever it was, he couldn't find the ability to care too much of it, not very interested in those thought then.
He recalled his strange hands once again, and decided to spend his time observing them. Maybe he would come to some answer of this all from it. A closer look revealed that his hands (would it be more appropriate to call them talons?) were tipped with something akin to claws, and some sort of much thicker, almost scaly skin coating the topside of his arms.
Strange. The only thing he could reason from this was some form of lycanthropy, though he didn't recall being bit by any birds recently. As he couldn't really differentiate any other features of himself from where he currently was standing, he decided to investigate further on this, sneaking to his cheval glass that resided in another room.
Though most of his house was unlit, he managed to see perfectly fine on his journey across the building. He didn't question it then, however, his mind focused elsewhere. Once he had arrived to his quarters, in which a tall cheval glass stood, he somewhat braced himself for what he might see. From what he was able to understand, it could be quite a drastic change from his regular appearance.
Quickly stepping in front, as if to get it done as fast as possible, he stared into his reflection. Was it his reflection...? His first though upon seeing what was supposedly himself was that it couldn't be him. He looked nothing like the man standing in the mirror, though who else would it be? Despite this, it mimicked his movements as any regular mirror would.
Leaning in for a closer look, he observed what he was going to assume was his face. It was sharper than it usually was, his nose crooked. Running his hand through his hair, he noticed its odd texture, and from closer inspection, it seemed to be consisting of feathers. That bird-theory was starting to seem more plausible at this point...
It was also quite evident (though briefly unnoticed) that his eyes were a shade of vivid green, which nearly seemed to glow in the faint light. Those were... definitely not his normal eyes, once again feeling out of place on his form.
Breathing out, he realized that despite all this, he didn't seem to... alarmed by it all. He was feeling quite great, actually. Like he could do anything. Caught up in this revelation, he attempted to dash off to somewhere else, though his foot caught on his slightly too long pants, causing him to fall over himself.
After he hit the ground, he concluded that he should probably try to fix that. Once half-hazard attempt at rolling his pants up, as well as some adjustments to his shirt, he was slightly more prepared to do... whatever it is he planned to do. What could he do like this? Would anybody recognize him? He could barely even recognize himself.
Whatever had happened to him had reshaped him to look like a completely different person... which in turn would mean he was unrecognizable... that anyone who saw him wouldn't know who he was...
This could possibly be used to his advantage. There were many things which he bared himself from doing in fear of his reputation, of other people, though all of those fears had seemed to be thrown out of the window from this revelation, filled with all the ideas of what he could get up to.
Seizing this moment, he shuffled to his front door, tossed his coat onto his shoulders, still wearing his clothes from that evening. His outfit did closely resemble how he was dressed earlier that day, but he was sure no one would notice, or care if they did. His attempt to slip on his shoes only resulted in finding out his feet had the same strange features as his hands, which did make his shoes a bit uncomfortable. It was probably fine to leave those here for now...
Stepping through the door, he breathed in the cool air, reveling in this new experience. Sure, it was a bit odd, but its not like he was the pinnacle of normality to begin with. He could enjoy himself for awhile.
It was a foggy night, as it often was, a few light scattered along as he peered down the street. There wasn't anyone else about, so he was safe to quietly leave. He felt like some sort of criminal, lurking around like this. It gave him some sort of thrill, in being unknown from his regular self.
He stretched his strange-looking arms, getting himself more comfortable in this new form as he sneaked around, searching for nothing in particular. Maybe he would come across something, but for now he just enjoyed himself as he strolled down the streets.