For as long as history's been written down, my family have studied the husks masquerading as humans. They used to be crude mud-forms that called out to us from darkened forests and now they make small talk in the break room, asking us how our weekend was.
We were never meant to interfere, our ancestors always told us to observe and note down any changes we found. Like the decade they developed the ability to wink or how they've recently learnt to convincingly laugh as if they were actual people and not hollow things.
If they have a purpose aside from becoming perfectly human, we haven't found it yet. All we know for certain is that blood sustains them better than the warm, wet earth they like to bury themselves in every night. Give them dirt and they're relatively harmless, give them human blood and they lose all pretense they'd crafted over the centuries.
We were never meant to interfere, our ancestors always told us to observe and note down any changes we found. Like the decade they developed the ability to wink or how they've recently learnt to convincingly laugh as if they were actual people and not hollow things.
If they have a purpose aside from becoming perfectly human, we haven't found it yet. All we know for certain is that blood sustains them better than the warm, wet earth they like to bury themselves in every night. Give them dirt and they're relatively harmless, give them human blood and they lose all pretense they'd crafted over the centuries.
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