(Please note that this is a bit silly, and I just wrote it up so there may be glaring spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes.)
He didn't remember when he woke up, only that he did. The too clean room he had been staying in for the past... Nine to ten days? Was the same as ever. It was hard to say when he was unable to see the sun. Though the uprighters came and went often, and didn't really seem to have any real times to come in or out of his room...
It was just another normal day.
He didn't think twice when a new uprighter, one that he had heard the others calling 'lazy' and 'uncaring ', brought him some fresh food.
Of course he had hesitated at the smell of the food, as it reeked of... Something he couldn't quite place. Like rotten tomatoes and tar. He was very aware that sometimes the food the uprighters provided was strange, varying between a weird, soft gunk and small, crunchy pellets. But this was... It was near impossible to tell what kind of texture this fowl smelling stuff would be just by starring at it.
He should have known not to eat it.
But he did anyway.
And he deeply regretted it.
He didn't even process what the stuff tasted like before the dull ache started. He just thought he had eaten too fast, ignoring how the stuff seemed to make him feel more and more sick as the seconds past.
However, the more he tried to ignore it, the worse the pain got. He finally started to whimper when the pain grew to the point where he could barely move without almost crying out.
He didn't know how long he was curled up in the floor, crying for somebody to help him. He could smell the lingering scent of the uprighter who had given him the food. Just hanging around the general area of the building.
He wished he wasn't so naive, so childish to just trust a stranger without second thought.
He might have woke up again, the pain still persisting through whenever he had passed out. Although he knew he was awake, he could barely get his own eyes open. This bothered him so badly that despite his deep discomfort in doing so, he let out another call for help.
Somebody quietly answered his call, walking over and gently nudging him with something blunt.
Whoever it was smelled of earth and plant juice.
He was grateful for the company, even if it was only in scent, muffed sound, and touch on his end.
He wanted to feel anything other than the dull but constant ache that accompanied the now soft pain, and the warmth of the other provided just that.
Then Lark truly woke up.
Pushing himself up into a sitting position from the bush that he had taking shelter in, he yawned, not only taking in his surroundings but also processing his nightmare.
"Was... That real? I don't lose myself in my own dreams like that..." He quietly mumbled to himself, something he had caught himself doing much more often as of late.
"No way... Maybe-" He had to break his line of thought with a pained hiss, reaching for the side of his face a dripping hand. "Ow... What is this... It..." He pulled his hand away after feeling a foreign liquid that wasn't paint dripping into it.
"..." He was caught off guard by the red substance covering his palm. He couldn't smell anything metallic, ruling out the possibility of the stuff being blood. "... I've been caught red handed." He tried to joke, although nobody was around to hear his sudden, panicked laughter that followed.
"I-I need to find something reflective..." He mumbled after calming down slightly, grabbing at the nearby branches of the trees to balance himself as he pulled himself to his feet.
When he did, he wished he hadn't.
He had come across a small stream, not flowing fast enough to completely ripple the water and distort his reflection. Surprisingly the first thing he did see were the two horns that had been in his head. While he was shocked he had them, reaching up and tapping it to see if it really was attached to him, that wasn't why he came here.
Nervously, he stepped closer to the stream, hoping that maybe he just had some tomatoes on his face... Despite not having eating any in at least a week... "... What happened to my eye??" He reached up, wiping the still dripping red substance away. His left eye was... Blue. Not his normal, friendly purple with his signature hourglass shaped pupil, but a deep, pure blue that covered nearly his entire eye. A streak, similar to a tear streak, ran down his face. The red stuff that had signaled that something was off clearly still dripping from it.
"No... That... I can't... This isn't... I can't tell if it's just me going nuts again or if this is a potential problem..." He muttered to himself, the tail that had stayed more or less harmlessly twitching behind him just seconds ago was now lashing around, snapping small branches and twigs effortlessly.
He closed his normal eye, looking around with the other. It worked just like normal for him. "... It's fine. It only stings a little bit..." He muttered again, before walking off.
(Summary: Lark remembered something that messed up his mentality, and his eye changed colors, further messing him up.)