Chapter Text
It started with Perrine, it was subtle so nobody paid much attention to it at first. They had woken one morning and their voice was much more raspy than last night. No matter how much they cleared their throat and how much water they drank, it remained low and rumbling.
“It's just logic,” they said, shaking their head at the 5th bowl of water they had been offered that day. “I’m the oldest, it was bound to happen to me first,”
“Just have another sip, it might be a fever,”
“Clémmie, there’s no bushes for another mile out here and I don’t feel like peeing in the middle of a field,”
“Got any remedies that might help?” Kingsley chimed in. Perrine scoffed, stopping in their tracks.
“Let’s just face it, we’re getting older. It’s completely normal. Now stop fussing over me and let’s just get back to camp!” An angry Perrine was always something to fear but something about their gruff voice and irritation struck a core with Clémentine. It was reminded of the scolding its father once gave it. Needless to say, it flinched when Perrine had snapped their head around to push the bowl of water away. While Cole and Kingsley bugged them the entire way, Clémentine just hung its head. With that, Clémentine realized it was probably due for another haircut as they felt something long and fuzzy draped near its ears and cheeks. It curiously touches the tickling sensation and feels something reminiscent of fur. It was probably just the dirt and grime on its face. A haircut and a bath is what is needed, that's all. As it brushed its dirty curls out of its ears, it felt rough and long nails scratch at its skin. It looked at its hands to see its nails began to take a weird, almost squared shape and they were dirty as well, turning an almost grayish color. It then noticed two identical scabs on each wrist they hadn’t noticed before. But before Clémentine could scratch at it, Cole nearly tumbled over them with a surprised yelp, Clémentine managed to catch them.
“Ah! I’m so sorry!” Cole panicked, trying to find their footing.
“Dear, are you alright?” Clémentine held their hands out to let Cole find their balance.
“Sorry. I don’t know how I didn’t notice that rock,” They laughed as Clémentine looked down at the ground and Cole was right. How did they not see that rock? It was the size of a fox!
That’s when it began with Cole.
Slowly but gradually they became more clumsy and tripping over logs, rocks and even the other Larks. Cole was losing their vision ever so slowly, when they had realized it, it was rather quite embarrassing. Clémentine and Cole were basking in the sun on a chilly afternoon when Cole had placed a small kiss on the side of Clémmie’s nose and had laughed about its nose feeling fuzzy. When Cole opened their eyes to see Clémentine pawing at its nose the brush off whatever it was that tickled Cole, they saw nothing. Cole rubbed their eyes and the world was nothing more than vague shapes and colors. And whatever vague shapes made up Clémentine’s face, Cole could only see the lower half of their lover’s face. It’s as their eyelashes had overgrown and were now blocking their vision but Clémentine was adamant that Cole’s eyes looked normal. Perrine had tried everything to get Cole’s vision back but there was only so much they could do. Having turnt 18, they were allowed to buy stronger types of ointments and remedies but try and buy as they did, nothing worked. It wasn’t until Cole realized half their money was gone on useless ointments is when they asked Perrine to stop. Cole settled on using a long stick to guide them as they walked and it helped a lot. It certainly didn’t stop them from performing their shows as Cole knew their guitalele like the back of their hand.
Speaking of their shows, The Lark never stopped adoring and respecting The Harkers through their songs and tales. Even as they got older and noticeably taller. Their costumes soon became too small for them to fit—it’s seems that even Perrine’s old costume was too small for Kingsley—and they had to sew new costumes all together. Over the years and reading and seeing illustrations of The Harkers in books and stories, they had a few changes in mind. They added new details on each costume as they now had more skill and materials to work with. Clémentine now had tiny bells on their shoes and newly added collar. Cole went for more fake hay in their sleeves and pants, not much different from their original design. Perrine, more cleaner feathers and a pair of arm-warmers meant to resemble The Croons long and spindly hands. Kingsley was convinced to buy shoes but cut out the soles of them and used the remaining leather for padding around the collar and mask. They all still kept their masks, never outgrowing them. With their new look and apparent new sound, the folk of Meadowlark had confused them for a new band but that didn’t stop people from showing up to their shows.
“How long youse’ plan on staying here?” A man had asked, when handing them a donation. They were never paid much for the shows but if a fan wanted to gift them money, it was never refused by The Lark.
“We live here,” Perrine said, stuffing the money in their pocket. “We’ve always performed here”
“Oh! Youse’ the same kids that use to play those shows a few years back?”
“Yes, we’re The Lark. We’re aware we look and sound a bit older,” Cole awkwardly laughed, not removing their mask.
“I say! I didn’t recognize any of you!” They said, letting out a raspy laugh. “Well except you” They said pointing to Kingsley, “You look quite young. What are you? 14?”
“Sixteen,” Kingsley toned laced with offense.
“Well, it’s always nice to hear y’all sing and do story times,” The three older Lark didn’t take offense to what the stranger had said. After all, they had handed them money, something The Lark didn’t get to have much of. Kingsley on the other hand rambled the entire way home much to the dismay of their bandmates.
“People grow up, what’s so hard to understand about that?”
“You’re getting riled up over nothing,” Perrine sighed, their voice low as ever, more focused on scratching their neck. It seems hair was beginning to sprout out of their neck as well. Although it seemed to be white, they had just assumed it was just peach fuzz.
“I just don’t see why they felt the need to say that. Y'know, people overlook bad performances if the kid’s cute and well, I know my worth and it’s certainly not tied to how cute I am. Just ‘cause we’re older doesn’t mean i'm any less talented!”
“Alright Kingsley,”
“Sure, I’m good looking, but I know that I do look older as well. I don’t need a stranger telling me I’m baby-faced. I’m a talented flute player, dancer and singer. The good looks are just a plus, besides I’m not a kid anymore!”
“Whatever you say, Kingsley,” Perrine grumbled, now scratching at the new growth of hair on their arms. They already had arm hair as a kid but it has since overgrown and draped under their arm as well. Kingsley had joked before that they looked like a werewolf. Perhaps they were turning into a werewolf, and a flea-infested one for that matter. They were itchy everywhere. As Perrine scratched at the side of their head, they felt their fingers hit something hard. They stopped and crossed their arms, ignoring the pain under the nails from the unexpected growth. If that hard growth they just discovered was anything chronic, they didn’t want the others to know about it. The Lark would never stop fussing over Perrine if they found out.
As they arrived back at camp, Clémentine guided Cole to their tent, Perrine went off to try and shave the fur off their arms and inspect whatever it was that they had growing on their head. Kingsley slinked off to the river nearby to wash their face. The past few months, they felt their skin grow dry and itchy. Kingsley remembered Perrine mentioning that as they got older, red bumps would appear on their face and if it were itchy to just wash their face. But as Kingsley started to dry their face off and stare into their reflection, they couldn’t recognize their face anymore. Their skin had darkened a lot . The bridge of their nose was completely black and it seemed to be spreading to their forehead and cheeks. It wasn’t until they looked down at their hands when they realized the rough feeling was their fingers rather than their face. Scrub and scrub as much as they could but the rough, sappy feeling on their fingers wouldn’t come off.
Kingsley let out a terrified screech that didn’t even sound remotely human, only scaring them further.
The Lark rushed over to the river where Perrine tried to help clean Kingsley off but nothing budged. When the sun began to set they walked back to camp where Perrine then tried, very carefully, to scrap off the bark-like material with a knife but Kingsley kept flinching and whining that it hurt. Perrine managed to scrape a tiny bit off and draw blood. Perrine picked up whatever it was they scraped off. It was bark. No doubt, it looks like bark and it felt like it as well but when they had turnt to see the underside, it was also undoubtedly skin and blood as well. It was only then The Lark realized something was terribly wrong happening with all of them.