Everything looks cozy at her place. Snow might be starting to fall but the chimney has a clean line of thin white smoke showing a proper fire and there are lamps turned on. Gaia hasn't been hiding away or suffering in silence either. Though there's probably been time where she's mentioned she wasn't up for visitors, she'll often be willing to join in on outings or the idea of shared tasks, particularly if there was something she can learn to care for herself.
She didn't hide her pain 'well' but she did a good job of coping with it and understanding her limits. She also had her own cup of nectar to sip when it got rough.
There is the faint scent of blood though once the door is opened. Only something lingering in the air, diluted in cloudy pinkish water that's in a bucket with a couple of rags, far overpowered in the tub of cold water and vinegar pulled over by the fire where Gaia is working a wash brush and board over the wool bedding to rinse out the stains.
She's pulled on a skirt and a very widemouthed shirt that hasn't been laced up. Still dotted with flecks of blood, the reason lies with the sheen of metallic, blade-like structures she's trying to keep balanced. that have burst from her shoulders. The patterns of scales seems to have spread since the last time she wore any clothes that would have allowed the other teen a look at the rate of progress but there was still human flesh where the base of the wings(?) have appeared.
It's now ragged, mostly healed flesh but seems itself to be on the verge of starting to slough off; whether this is a surreal shift between human skin and dragon appendage or because the 'healing', such as it was, didn't know what to do with this is uncertain. She must have taken a dose of nectar though.
Gaia hasn't bothered with shoes. The floor is warm enough, right? (it isn't). But her feet are shaping into something else, just as her hunched spine shows the emergence of spike growth that she certainly has not talked much about.
He'd been quiet leaving. While certainly nobody would stop him if he put his foot down, there was a certain.. watchful protectiveness that came with recent events that he didn't really want to challenge. A short visit, not too far away, would probably have been fine but it's better to ask forgiveness than permission.
He made do with a throw blanket with a hole cut in it for his head lately. Was it super warm? No. Did it make things easier on both wing and healing incisions? Sure did. He kept the armlike things wrapped around his torso, 'fingers' laced at his chest, simply to keep them covered and out of the way. It distorted his silouhette less than leaving them loose would.
Blood could be many things, but given their changes seemed to be happening at roughly the same rate he suspected something else when he can open a door and smell it.
And see the evidence as well. They didn't look much like wings, but neither did his own. "...I suppose I should have sent an earlier warning."
Not that he was in any shape to do so while recovering. "It.. may be wise to compare notes. Do you wish assistance?" With the bloodstains, presumably.
At least there's no sign or scent of the sulfuric poison to suggest she lost control of her breath. Small blessings.
There seems to be a bend in the formation, a start of structure and then a couple plates of thin, curved.... structure to what's come out of her back; maybe about six inches all total. She seems to be having a bit of trouble keeping her balance with the new weight and its tendency to move with twitches of muscle she's not accustomed to having.
"Mmhmm," she nods. Though her head moves, she doesn't turn around, probably because she doesn't want to fall over. ...Probably only that. "Why did no one tell me wool is such a pain to rinse out?" comes a grumble. This much wool at one time that is. What she'd worn to bed is soaking in the basin still; another of those chemise that are an adequate nightshirt; an all around convenient piece of fabric it seems.
Her voice sounds a bit hoarse.
It strikes her suddenly. 'Earlier warning' he just said. Stopping her scrubbing, she starts to crane her head around.
"What happened?"
It's no surprise her eyes have changed; that happened a few days ago. It's probably no surprise that the skin still human around them is looking swollen with some dark circles.
By the way she moves, pain isn't past-tense. The blood is still fresh.
At least if nothing else has been learned in the past two months, what to do about blood stains in all kinds of different things has been gone over rather thoroughly, so he heads for the other basin, rolling up the blanket-poncho a little instead of removing it. "If you don't mind some staining, you can call it finished now." It's not warm enough in here for her to be running around as she was, with the fire as it was.
But those bladelike protrusions would get in the way.
His eyes were still the same. He'd noticed others' changing, hers too, but he'd always had that inhuman look. It's still noteworthy, the sclera gone, entirely iris- "Same thing."
More or less. "Let me tend to some of this before it sets. Are you cold?"
Bracing against the side of the tub, she manages to carefully make that turn and regard Sephiroth while he moves to join her. Under the skirt hem, there's the scrape of claw on wood board.
"...Are you okay?" He said same thing. Which means something like wings, though it's hard to tell with the blanket in the way and certainly not with the manner in which he's belted the new appendages down.
Long skirts aren't exactly her norm either but it was... easier than pants today. Gaia lets out a short bark of choked humor.
"No, it's fine," she offers in rebuttal to the suggestion that a little staining won't be so bad. And honestly it'd barely be noticed unless someone were to inspect the dyed fabric. Her words were also quick, suggesting she's trying to convince herself of that.
"Do you think letting it soak will help?" As to his offer of assistance? "...Thanks." She's not going to deny it. She really would rather get rid of the stains.
Are you cold? The question stops her in the middle of the wobbly process of turning back to her work. Gaia opens her mouth, closes it and shakes her head though her gaze is then drawn to the fire. It's more than embers but it isn't roaring and Sephiroth is correct that the house is still too cold for it to be normally comfortable.
"No," she says but she sounds pensive as she bends over the washing again. "I'm sure it's just something else about these stupid changes."
Not really. Not... entirely. Has Sephiroth ever seen it? Known the signs of someone high on adrenaline or shock that they've talked themselves into keeping to task until it's done? Because Gaia will probably fall over if she does stop.
"...Do they look the same?" She then asks quietly.
"I am now." Work is a distraction, and with the wings cut loose on his back, at least the intense, agonizing pressure of constantly scraping against his own bone was gone. It let him focus on other stuff, like that Gaia hadn't had someone around to help. What if a knife would have helped her, too?
Would she have asked for help, if he'd gone to her instead of traumatizing the men he lived with?
The long measuring stare she's given suggests he's not accepting her reassurances that things are more or less fine and it isn't cold and so on at face value, but it's deliberate to turn to the washing instead and begin checking stains for if they were clean enough to pass muster. Soap was going to have to follow or everything would reek of vinegar, and he could see to that. "No, but cleaner might. Sit if you're comfortable. I'll see to this."
He doesn't know where EVERYTHING in her home is but he knows enough.
"It might be adrenaline. Once it wears off you might be wanting something more than this." A warmer fire, something to wrap bare toes in; wearing boots with claws was obnoxious but thick socks were doable. What had been done for him, that he could replicate? "And something to eat." He can do that much.
First though, cleaning things, upended into current wash and the other soaking. At least they were beyond the strictest, harshest fat-and-ash lyes now thanks to the creativity of folk in town, but it was still going to smell astringent.
A second look, at her quiet question.
"...No." The conclusion is slow, gradual. "Yours are like... metallic feathers. A bird cast in stainless steel. They are small, but elegant." He'd think so anyway, he had an eye for blades. "I am... malformed." And that's all he's going to say on the matter of his own.
Fine now. But Gaia can fully appreciate that he wasn't earlier; neither was she. But does that mean he's any better off than she is right now? Maybe. Probably. She's also aware that his life's been harder. Colder. He's had to suck it up because no one would...
"...You might be right," she admits, this also quietly. "But to be honest, if I sit down, I don't think I'll be getting back up." Not in the literal sense; she knows she's going to live. But in the short term?
"I didn't invite you over so you could just do everything for me." But she did want the company. And as it turns out, maybe he needed it too. Who's to say?
"Everything we need should be over there." The soap is nearby; Gaia minimized the amount of times she'd have to get up. It's of good quality; one of the things she tends to not hold back on is things that will keep herself and her clothes in the best condition.
Well, within reason. In any case, she has only to point where she set the products she's been using. And that 'we' indicates she's still being stubborn.
One thing Gaia hadn't had a chance to do is look at the wings. There was a general idea of what was there and she had reached as best she could by touch and knew the bleeding had stopped. Yet Sephiroth's description makes her curiosity become a conscious thing for the first time.
Until he speaks of being malformed.
"What?" Sometimes it's an easy thing, setting aside one's pain to focus on someone else's. "It..." She bites hard down on the phrase she'd been about to speak and instead continues with something else.
"...I mean, have you asked... you know. The dragon in you?" It's clear she might want to ask to see. But with the way the youth so shortly spoke of it, it's not something she dares.
"Hm, then don't." He's fine with that, she can rest a while or do what she needed to do, he'd handle the rest for a little bit. Not all day, certainly, but what was the harm in an hour or two? "You invited me over because blood in blankets, so let me do that."
Hadn't he asked if she was free, actually? Meh, details. It takes him a minute to tie the poncho blanket a bit better around his middle before he settles to seeing what he can do with the bloody linens. No gloves today, though it's as black as if he were, the scales utterly shineless when properly clean and resilient enough about corrosive things that even if it were lye he'd probably be okay.
Cleaning, attacking wool blankets, same difference. "...Earenk had wings like a bat. Large, membranous, covered in tiny pale green scales. Mine are.. not." He's deformed, and he knows it. "If yours continue to grow, presumably they will, they'll fill out in size over time. You'll .. probably want more protein and calcium in your diet for the forseeable future, I'll set aside some trap line prey if you wish."
Distraction, going for it. "I do recommend the organs. They taste better as time passes."
"You asked if I were free," Gaia counters. She remembers that clearly and won't let it slip completely by. "So the bloodstains can't be the only thing you're here for."
Details are important. Gaia looks at Sephiroth, studying the things that might have changed besides hidden wings. She lets the wool blanket fall back into the tub and with a sigh, slowly works her way to fully stand. Her pace is careful when she moves; not just the pain to contend with but the changing center of gravity. Liberal use of surfaces and walls will be used as she makes her way to the wood pile and starts picking out pieces to build up the fire.
She has put some thought into the matter of the cold she doesn't feel and decides it'll be a good idea to make sure the house is warm before she collapses.
"...Couldn't the same thing happen to you? We're turning into these creatures not... born that way." It's more than a little uneasy to say it aloud. "I'm not trying to give you false hope. But it might just be too early to say."
Even if she had a notion of what visual terrors a newborn might seem to possess before it reaches its growth, it wouldn't really apply here now would it?
"...Charlie mentioned those heroes. Maybe we should have asked him more about what they went through."
Poking at the fire, carefully adding the wood so it doesn't drown out the small flames, some of her focus is on the act itself. Yet Gaia can't help but go over the advice of more protein and calcium. Right now she doesn't feel hungry at all. But...
"....Ugh. Bad enough raw meat already smells better." Organs. Organs that will taste better. There's another grumble. "I hate how that reminds me of when I first started living in the Crystarium and learned more about where the food I ate came from."
....Sausages are nice until you realize what they get cased in. Try not to think too deeply about it, Gaia.
There's a low rumble that might be disagreement. "They are now." There was of course other purposes behind his asking but they can take a side seat to what's actually waiting when he showed up.
And Sephiroth is keeping a very blatant eye on where she is and what she's doing. Aside from regularly pared down talons, his feet were still perfectly fine, and adapting to different weight distribution was ended by simply folding his extra set of limbs like crossed arms. "..I don't think so. The shape is wrong. The covering is wrong." It's all.. just not right.
He shakes his head slightly, returning to scrubbing. Getting out all the vinegar was now the primary challenge. "It was so long ago wouldn't everything be rumor and conjecture?"
There's a reason he's keeping that blanket on and its' because he's learning to hate winter really, really fast. If he tugs the tub a bit closer to the fire it's completely incidental. "Raw meat is a delicacy in a lot of places. You have to pay good money to get it." Isn't that a good thing? "It's just finding a type you like first."
"Hmph. You know, Sephiroth. It's okay to be a little selfish at times like this," Gaia says. She's not angry. Concerned would be a far better word for it. Time and again he seems to put his difficulties on hold to help her and it's not gone unnoticed.
"So don't think I'll forget so easily why you came here." She has little forgetful, absentminded moments so this will probably be a readily referenced joke by now also.
Eyes watching her closely, they'll see that after a trip for two more logs to place beside her and picking up the poker to stir the coals a bit, she's slipping into a seated position. legs bent at the knees. Something seems to stir under the cloak independent of two legs.
Couldn't be a start of a tail, surely. Either way she seems to be stable. She then frowns.
"Well, we don't know how that works. How old do people get here? And books... stories are important, even if they aren't completely true. They might hold a grain of it." Gaia seems somber about this subject; serious than most. "The worst part is having nothing at all. In my world... in Novrandt, the city I live in has a repository of books. Everything they've found that survived the Flood. Full of stories and references to animals that don't exist any longer. Just because they might have been recorded with some bias... does that really make them less important for what they can tell us? And with other books, you can cross-reference the facts. Same with stories."
Gaia's rambling a little but it's definitely important to her, not just as a narrative to help Sephiroth understand what possibilities lie with asking about his strange wings.
"We also come from other worlds so maybe that's a factor. Why you look different from what the creature says should be there. But that's something we can also ask about." Gaia tilts her head so she can look at him.
"Maybe if Charlie doesn't have the answeres, we can ask the Ascians. They used to make things you know. I saw that Emet-Selch was gathering details about our transformations." Maybe some of the others were too. "...Well, I'd be inclined to talk to Elidibus first." Mostly because Obsidian has vouched for the Ascian.
...But also because last time she sort of used Emet-Selch as a distraction to escape Popp and she's not sure if he was aware of what she did. Ahem.
"...That sounds like a fad they'd try in Eulmore," is added with the typical wrinkled nose that indicates Gaia might have had an interruption in being serious. "And I hate I can't refute your claim because of that."
"Very well, I wished to speak to you because I'm reasonably certain I'm becoming a female dragon." He lifts the blanket, frowning, checking for stain. "Apparently we can look forward to living thousands of years once our transformations complete, which sounds too long but I only have a mortal perspective on that matter." Wait there's something he just sort of skipped over back there-- "...And I won't argue that the books of your destroyed homeland aren't important."
Even if it might only be a repository for the lost, notes kept for things that never would exist again. Plants, animals and cultures which wouldn't even leave relics behind. It ... just didn't apply to himself.
The face he makes at the idea of asking the Ascians is mixed alarm and dread; while Elidibus has nothing but kindness to him so far, they're all old, adult, and still strangers - not people to be bothering about cosmetic deformations. "... If it helps to demonstrate I am not exaggerating." The poncho-blanket shifts as he releases the loose hold around his own chest, uncoiling one wing at the edge of the fabric and extending it in an awkward twist so it's palm-up.
It looks like a massive hand more than a wing, studded with little black quills. He can touch the thumb to each of the other three 'fingertips' easily enough, it flexes thoroughly under his control but limited by its own inherent range of motion. "I have four arms, not two arms and two wings." It tucks back out of sight; there's something of disgust in his voice.
That too may distract from that first statement.
"...Angeal may know ways to prepare raw meat to that level of quality," he adds, cautiously. "If you'd like."
cw: talk of body horror, hint of emeto, uncanny valley
"Well then surely there's some sort of better record around if Charlie himself doesn't have the answe-- what?" Gaia looks up from stoking the fire. One can argue that this isn't a task to look away from with surprise. But at least the iron is left still as she stares with widened eyes- the change in them absolutely conveyed in this gesture as it's clear there is no whites remaining- at Sephiroth. Any protest that she'd not expected him to argue over the world of old books is going to be completely forgotten at this point.
"What did you just say? As in a female like me?"
With breasts and other various lady parts? This had clearly not occurred to her as being an option. Well, now it does. So much so that she's lost in the mental loops of wrapping her head around this new and very interesting variation on What It Means To Turn Into A Dragon that she wholly misses what Sephiroth is saying next.
Something something visual demonstration and that could have been just as much about a display of observed gender changes. It is certainly going to draw Gaia out of the thoughts quickly, pulling the heating poker out of the fire in a belated action to be set aside. There is a beginning of maybe protest that they can certainly be a little more delicate about... er, comparisons. And then the strange limbs are brought into view. Once more, Gaia nearly forgets what had been going on and sucks in a breath.
What might have once been the start of an embarrassed flush at the idea of Sephiroth sort of just... being naked in the middle of her common room is arrested as the strange and indeed malformed-seeming limbs that have been cut free from his back near the same time her own 'blades' cut out.
Her skin is generally pale and what remains of her human skin goes ghostly with a mix of fear and horror. Fear that has a name, by the look of recognition flickering past. Horror at the sight.
It can't be. Not here. No, Gaia realizes. It can't. It wouldn't pause like this, Sephiroth would be... it wouldn't be blood, but it would be seeping. She'd recognize its searing light against the cool and familiar dark that, though muted since her arrival, is still present. She swallows against the lump of bile. Yet it seems too late to talk. The disgust in Sephiroth's voice, the way the limb goes back out of sight quickly and she can't speak in time.
And then he sounds so normal offering the suggestion of what Angeal might be able to do on the subject of preparing raw meat to look a little less horrible to consume that Gaia almost lets out a bark of laughter because she doesn't know what else to do.
"No, wait. Wait. I'm sorry," she starts to try and get to her feet. Despite her earlier remark it seems she can find the impetus to stand if she's given enough space and time. She slips and unbalances once but thankful falls forward and to one knee, rather than back into the hearth.
"Let me see it again. Please." It's clear she thinks her reaction is to blame and as if to prove she's not trying to keep her distance, that she means what she says, she starts to wobble toward him.
Ah, that's a more familiar expression. And one he was expecting, because it's what he felt, he simply hid it better. It doesn't make it any easier to see though, and after a moment he turns back to scrubbing, expression carefully blank. He had invited that reaction, deliberately, to spare himself pointless platitudes about how everything will be fine and it had worked, he can't complain about the results.
"Stop that, you're going to get further injured and I'll have to call someone to assist." And though it's sidelong, he's watching to make sure she actually CAN get back up. There's a fine line too with being willing to demonstrate exactly why he's not willing to keep just deludedly hoping everything is nice and fine, and being willing to put himself back on display afterward. "I have ... never been normal. It would have been stranger if that changed here, than it staying the same."
Of course Gaia regrets it. She had wanted to see and then had not been ready; Sephiroth is paying the price for that. She bites at her lip and that might be taken as part of her effort to right herself; it's not just that.
It's Gaia's shame and the other teen's words regarding how hopelessly resigned he is to the experience of being unnatural. She manages to right herself at least and then eases to the floor. "I doubt you want others here any more than I do. Come over here then for a minute. The washing can wait."
Stains are suddenly just not important.
But instead of trying to insist again that he show her, the young woman is patting the floor near her. Come sit with her and at least show she's not rejecting him. Whether he does or not, Gaia continues to speak.
"The sin-eaters I've told you about." Spoken of in vague terms as being living creatures overwhelmed by the 'element' of Light. But the details... "It's... when you see something, someone change into a sin-eater, it's horrible."
Has she seen a transformation that she can remember? Not... really. But since then she's read stories, seen pictures, witnessed sin-eaters. A ripe imagination does the rest. Though the teen seems to have struggle putting it to words, it's clear where she's going with this.
"I can't tell you that what you just showed me didn't remind me of that. Or that these transformations in general are never good things for the people who have to go through them. Whether or not they're normal."
She might have pretty blades for wings but that's not normal by any means. None of this is normal.
"I'm sorry. None of this is really helping, is it?" Her voice is sounding a bit shaky even if she makes an effort to sound like her normal self.
This rates as less important. It's uncomfortable to start with and he knew what he was doing when he demonstrated it. The point hadn't been to encourage her to ask more things though, it had been to make her stop asking. Focus on other things. Like washing. And up to his elbows in soap, he's reluctant to leave his chosen task, frowning.
When he does finally move it's to settle closer, but inevitably not too close; there's a line of nearness that inevitably seemed to encourage people to reach out and he's not going to get that near for almost anybody without a good reason. "..Mm. Not sin-eater at least. I'm definitely gaining no association with light, and my scales are still very dark." They hadn't in fact changed much color at all.
It's .. not exactly a reassurance, she knew he wasn't becoming one anyway, but the association.. would apparently be hard to break.
Though it's not the most comfortable to sit with his knees pulled to his chest with the way his body's reconfiguring itself, he manages anyway. The long fingers of his seconary arms were useful for that much.
"I don't think anything is really going to help." The admittance is reluctant, slow. "Nobody's treating it like they should be. I don't know how most are so calm, acting like it's normal to be covered in scales and having a voice in your head telling you to remember to wear warm socks."
Angeal was not taking it as calmly as it looked. Who else was hiding? Maybe nobody. Maybe everybody. "We're not supposed to be upset. We'll get told we're not really losing our humanity, we're still human.. but there isn't a human in the universe that looks like this." He turns a hand palm up, the scales there small and dark and fine, rubbing the tip of one blunted claw across them. "If we were slowly turning into sin-eaters instead of dragons would we still be expected to just accept it?"
After a moment it's shaken off. "I would like to be snatched up by a foreign power and tossed onto a strange planet where the result is you become completely ordinary and nothing exciting ever happens again."
She gives Sephiroth a tiny smile when he finally chooses to join her. There's no attempt to reach out again; maybe inviting him closer hadn't been about that at all or the fact that he didn't exposure the 'wings' again was a hint she didn't miss. But she's glad he came over to sit down with her. Gaia herself does something similar to how he hugs his knees close. Yeah, that seems good right about now.
The appendages had sparked a memory of the terrors of transformation. They didn't mean sin-eater and the young woman nods with confirmation. "Not of Dark, either. I may not have all my strength, but I can at least tell that much." But what this energy is that's changing them, she doesn't know.
Born of the First, she doesn't have the insight of Ishgard's blooded history with dragonkind to relate to even in the barest of fashion.
"It seems to be something thought of as honorable to this world. And I get what they're meaning. This legend of their heroes." Gaia shakes her head. "But that doesn't mean anything really. Where I came from, this sort of rapid transformation is bad. Even if you can hope to keep a sense of who you are or what you are."
And they're supposed to still be what they are? The teen gives a not-so-delicate snort of disbelief.
"No, you'd be expected to fight as much as you can against it. Even if it's inevitable. Or was until recently." She corrects that last bit before sighing in frustration. "There were some that were afflicted with the condition but didn't change right away. They were tended in hospice until just before the end."
It need not be said what happened just before the end.
"A method's been discovered to undo it. But without the knowledge of what this energy is, much less a way to remove the source? I doubt we'll get so lucky." She shakes her head before looking over at the other teen and with a dry manner speaks again.
"Not that I'm saying we should end it ourselves, of course. It looks like people are still arriving so if... things don't turn out how we're told they are, if someone can find a solution to this, I want to wait as long as possible."
And if that means waiting as a huge, territorial dragon without her human mind, well... well.
Gaia laughs. It's not really amusement but there's a faintly lighter tone to her next answer.
"If people could go around wasting power like that... well, I suppose I wouldn't mind either. Unless of course it's to keep us from being able to save our world and the people we care about."
"I don't think there's a poison element." It's a mutter, more than a touch sullen; Light or Dark would be more acceptable. There were implications to being poisonous, venomous .. toxic, whatever the base affliction was. "Any kind of forced transformation is bad. If they could bring people here they could ask if they wish to become monsters first."
Some might. He has only scorn for being expected to walk in some hero's footsteps. He knows what he is - and a hero, he is not.
The lack of agreement on her statement they shouldn't end it themselves suggests a little perhaps on how that is viewed. It would be better than becoming a beast, wouldn't it? Normalcy was always an impossibility, now it seemed even further away. "I've.. been working on and off on devising a way to at least make us safe to the people here, should we inevitably become animals."
Planning ahead for an obvious future though, that wasn't hoping for the impossible. "In lieu of whatever method your planet uses to undo this kind of thing.. mine.. can occasionally tame monsters."
That's what they're becoming after all. "They use them as we do military dogs, and it mostly seems to be about socialization. Dragons.. are by and large, territorial in the extreme, and will defend anything they think of as 'theirs'." The laundry will need to be tended to soon. "There's a chance we can fool our base instincts into deciding the people of this town, and the town itself, is our territory. We won't be safe for visitors, but the ones who belong here.." Maybe it would be better than nothing?
The vague flickers of reassurance don't make it better. The dragon had every reason to want them not resisting.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hammerbearer) wrote2024-10-01 01:20 am
no subject
[ She's tried a lot of preserving techniques before winter so vinegar was certainly present in the household! ]
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Everything looks cozy at her place. Snow might be starting to fall but the chimney has a clean line of thin white smoke showing a proper fire and there are lamps turned on. Gaia hasn't been hiding away or suffering in silence either. Though there's probably been time where she's mentioned she wasn't up for visitors, she'll often be willing to join in on outings or the idea of shared tasks, particularly if there was something she can learn to care for herself.
She didn't hide her pain 'well' but she did a good job of coping with it and understanding her limits. She also had her own cup of nectar to sip when it got rough.
There is the faint scent of blood though once the door is opened. Only something lingering in the air, diluted in cloudy pinkish water that's in a bucket with a couple of rags, far overpowered in the tub of cold water and vinegar pulled over by the fire where Gaia is working a wash brush and board over the wool bedding to rinse out the stains.
She's pulled on a skirt and a very widemouthed shirt that hasn't been laced up. Still dotted with flecks of blood, the reason lies with the sheen of metallic, blade-like structures she's trying to keep balanced. that have burst from her shoulders. The patterns of scales seems to have spread since the last time she wore any clothes that would have allowed the other teen a look at the rate of progress but there was still human flesh where the base of the wings(?) have appeared.
It's now ragged, mostly healed flesh but seems itself to be on the verge of starting to slough off; whether this is a surreal shift between human skin and dragon appendage or because the 'healing', such as it was, didn't know what to do with this is uncertain. She must have taken a dose of nectar though.
Gaia hasn't bothered with shoes. The floor is warm enough, right? (it isn't). But her feet are shaping into something else, just as her hunched spine shows the emergence of spike growth that she certainly has not talked much about.
no subject
He made do with a throw blanket with a hole cut in it for his head lately. Was it super warm? No. Did it make things easier on both wing and healing incisions? Sure did. He kept the armlike things wrapped around his torso, 'fingers' laced at his chest, simply to keep them covered and out of the way. It distorted his silouhette less than leaving them loose would.
Blood could be many things, but given their changes seemed to be happening at roughly the same rate he suspected something else when he can open a door and smell it.
And see the evidence as well. They didn't look much like wings, but neither did his own. "...I suppose I should have sent an earlier warning."
Not that he was in any shape to do so while recovering. "It.. may be wise to compare notes. Do you wish assistance?" With the bloodstains, presumably.
no subject
There seems to be a bend in the formation, a start of structure and then a couple plates of thin, curved.... structure to what's come out of her back; maybe about six inches all total. She seems to be having a bit of trouble keeping her balance with the new weight and its tendency to move with twitches of muscle she's not accustomed to having.
"Mmhmm," she nods. Though her head moves, she doesn't turn around, probably because she doesn't want to fall over. ...Probably only that. "Why did no one tell me wool is such a pain to rinse out?" comes a grumble. This much wool at one time that is. What she'd worn to bed is soaking in the basin still; another of those chemise that are an adequate nightshirt; an all around convenient piece of fabric it seems.
Her voice sounds a bit hoarse.
It strikes her suddenly. 'Earlier warning' he just said. Stopping her scrubbing, she starts to crane her head around.
"What happened?"
It's no surprise her eyes have changed; that happened a few days ago. It's probably no surprise that the skin still human around them is looking swollen with some dark circles.
no subject
At least if nothing else has been learned in the past two months, what to do about blood stains in all kinds of different things has been gone over rather thoroughly, so he heads for the other basin, rolling up the blanket-poncho a little instead of removing it. "If you don't mind some staining, you can call it finished now." It's not warm enough in here for her to be running around as she was, with the fire as it was.
But those bladelike protrusions would get in the way.
His eyes were still the same. He'd noticed others' changing, hers too, but he'd always had that inhuman look. It's still noteworthy, the sclera gone, entirely iris- "Same thing."
More or less. "Let me tend to some of this before it sets. Are you cold?"
no subject
"...Are you okay?" He said same thing. Which means something like wings, though it's hard to tell with the blanket in the way and certainly not with the manner in which he's belted the new appendages down.
Long skirts aren't exactly her norm either but it was... easier than pants today. Gaia lets out a short bark of choked humor.
"No, it's fine," she offers in rebuttal to the suggestion that a little staining won't be so bad. And honestly it'd barely be noticed unless someone were to inspect the dyed fabric. Her words were also quick, suggesting she's trying to convince herself of that.
"Do you think letting it soak will help?" As to his offer of assistance? "...Thanks." She's not going to deny it. She really would rather get rid of the stains.
Are you cold? The question stops her in the middle of the wobbly process of turning back to her work. Gaia opens her mouth, closes it and shakes her head though her gaze is then drawn to the fire. It's more than embers but it isn't roaring and Sephiroth is correct that the house is still too cold for it to be normally comfortable.
"No," she says but she sounds pensive as she bends over the washing again. "I'm sure it's just something else about these stupid changes."
Not really. Not... entirely. Has Sephiroth ever seen it? Known the signs of someone high on adrenaline or shock that they've talked themselves into keeping to task until it's done? Because Gaia will probably fall over if she does stop.
"...Do they look the same?" She then asks quietly.
no subject
Would she have asked for help, if he'd gone to her instead of traumatizing the men he lived with?
The long measuring stare she's given suggests he's not accepting her reassurances that things are more or less fine and it isn't cold and so on at face value, but it's deliberate to turn to the washing instead and begin checking stains for if they were clean enough to pass muster. Soap was going to have to follow or everything would reek of vinegar, and he could see to that. "No, but cleaner might. Sit if you're comfortable. I'll see to this."
He doesn't know where EVERYTHING in her home is but he knows enough.
"It might be adrenaline. Once it wears off you might be wanting something more than this." A warmer fire, something to wrap bare toes in; wearing boots with claws was obnoxious but thick socks were doable. What had been done for him, that he could replicate? "And something to eat." He can do that much.
First though, cleaning things, upended into current wash and the other soaking. At least they were beyond the strictest, harshest fat-and-ash lyes now thanks to the creativity of folk in town, but it was still going to smell astringent.
A second look, at her quiet question.
"...No." The conclusion is slow, gradual. "Yours are like... metallic feathers. A bird cast in stainless steel. They are small, but elegant." He'd think so anyway, he had an eye for blades. "I am... malformed." And that's all he's going to say on the matter of his own.
no subject
"...You might be right," she admits, this also quietly. "But to be honest, if I sit down, I don't think I'll be getting back up." Not in the literal sense; she knows she's going to live. But in the short term?
"I didn't invite you over so you could just do everything for me." But she did want the company. And as it turns out, maybe he needed it too. Who's to say?
"Everything we need should be over there." The soap is nearby; Gaia minimized the amount of times she'd have to get up. It's of good quality; one of the things she tends to not hold back on is things that will keep herself and her clothes in the best condition.
Well, within reason. In any case, she has only to point where she set the products she's been using. And that 'we' indicates she's still being stubborn.
One thing Gaia hadn't had a chance to do is look at the wings. There was a general idea of what was there and she had reached as best she could by touch and knew the bleeding had stopped. Yet Sephiroth's description makes her curiosity become a conscious thing for the first time.
Until he speaks of being malformed.
"What?" Sometimes it's an easy thing, setting aside one's pain to focus on someone else's. "It..." She bites hard down on the phrase she'd been about to speak and instead continues with something else.
"...I mean, have you asked... you know. The dragon in you?" It's clear she might want to ask to see. But with the way the youth so shortly spoke of it, it's not something she dares.
no subject
Hadn't he asked if she was free, actually? Meh, details. It takes him a minute to tie the poncho blanket a bit better around his middle before he settles to seeing what he can do with the bloody linens. No gloves today, though it's as black as if he were, the scales utterly shineless when properly clean and resilient enough about corrosive things that even if it were lye he'd probably be okay.
Cleaning, attacking wool blankets, same difference. "...Earenk had wings like a bat. Large, membranous, covered in tiny pale green scales. Mine are.. not." He's deformed, and he knows it. "If yours continue to grow, presumably they will, they'll fill out in size over time. You'll .. probably want more protein and calcium in your diet for the forseeable future, I'll set aside some trap line prey if you wish."
Distraction, going for it. "I do recommend the organs. They taste better as time passes."
no subject
Details are important. Gaia looks at Sephiroth, studying the things that might have changed besides hidden wings. She lets the wool blanket fall back into the tub and with a sigh, slowly works her way to fully stand. Her pace is careful when she moves; not just the pain to contend with but the changing center of gravity. Liberal use of surfaces and walls will be used as she makes her way to the wood pile and starts picking out pieces to build up the fire.
She has put some thought into the matter of the cold she doesn't feel and decides it'll be a good idea to make sure the house is warm before she collapses.
"...Couldn't the same thing happen to you? We're turning into these creatures not... born that way." It's more than a little uneasy to say it aloud. "I'm not trying to give you false hope. But it might just be too early to say."
Even if she had a notion of what visual terrors a newborn might seem to possess before it reaches its growth, it wouldn't really apply here now would it?
"...Charlie mentioned those heroes. Maybe we should have asked him more about what they went through."
Poking at the fire, carefully adding the wood so it doesn't drown out the small flames, some of her focus is on the act itself. Yet Gaia can't help but go over the advice of more protein and calcium. Right now she doesn't feel hungry at all. But...
"....Ugh. Bad enough raw meat already smells better." Organs. Organs that will taste better. There's another grumble. "I hate how that reminds me of when I first started living in the Crystarium and learned more about where the food I ate came from."
....Sausages are nice until you realize what they get cased in. Try not to think too deeply about it, Gaia.
no subject
And Sephiroth is keeping a very blatant eye on where she is and what she's doing. Aside from regularly pared down talons, his feet were still perfectly fine, and adapting to different weight distribution was ended by simply folding his extra set of limbs like crossed arms. "..I don't think so. The shape is wrong. The covering is wrong." It's all.. just not right.
He shakes his head slightly, returning to scrubbing. Getting out all the vinegar was now the primary challenge. "It was so long ago wouldn't everything be rumor and conjecture?"
There's a reason he's keeping that blanket on and its' because he's learning to hate winter really, really fast. If he tugs the tub a bit closer to the fire it's completely incidental. "Raw meat is a delicacy in a lot of places. You have to pay good money to get it." Isn't that a good thing? "It's just finding a type you like first."
no subject
"So don't think I'll forget so easily why you came here." She has little forgetful, absentminded moments so this will probably be a readily referenced joke by now also.
Eyes watching her closely, they'll see that after a trip for two more logs to place beside her and picking up the poker to stir the coals a bit, she's slipping into a seated position. legs bent at the knees. Something seems to stir under the cloak independent of two legs.
Couldn't be a start of a tail, surely. Either way she seems to be stable. She then frowns.
"Well, we don't know how that works. How old do people get here? And books... stories are important, even if they aren't completely true. They might hold a grain of it." Gaia seems somber about this subject; serious than most. "The worst part is having nothing at all. In my world... in Novrandt, the city I live in has a repository of books. Everything they've found that survived the Flood. Full of stories and references to animals that don't exist any longer. Just because they might have been recorded with some bias... does that really make them less important for what they can tell us? And with other books, you can cross-reference the facts. Same with stories."
Gaia's rambling a little but it's definitely important to her, not just as a narrative to help Sephiroth understand what possibilities lie with asking about his strange wings.
"We also come from other worlds so maybe that's a factor. Why you look different from what the creature says should be there. But that's something we can also ask about." Gaia tilts her head so she can look at him.
"Maybe if Charlie doesn't have the answeres, we can ask the Ascians. They used to make things you know. I saw that Emet-Selch was gathering details about our transformations." Maybe some of the others were too. "...Well, I'd be inclined to talk to Elidibus first." Mostly because Obsidian has vouched for the Ascian.
...But also because last time she sort of used Emet-Selch as a distraction to escape Popp and she's not sure if he was aware of what she did. Ahem.
"...That sounds like a fad they'd try in Eulmore," is added with the typical wrinkled nose that indicates Gaia might have had an interruption in being serious. "And I hate I can't refute your claim because of that."
no subject
Even if it might only be a repository for the lost, notes kept for things that never would exist again. Plants, animals and cultures which wouldn't even leave relics behind. It ... just didn't apply to himself.
The face he makes at the idea of asking the Ascians is mixed alarm and dread; while Elidibus has nothing but kindness to him so far, they're all old, adult, and still strangers - not people to be bothering about cosmetic deformations. "... If it helps to demonstrate I am not exaggerating." The poncho-blanket shifts as he releases the loose hold around his own chest, uncoiling one wing at the edge of the fabric and extending it in an awkward twist so it's palm-up.
It looks like a massive hand more than a wing, studded with little black quills. He can touch the thumb to each of the other three 'fingertips' easily enough, it flexes thoroughly under his control but limited by its own inherent range of motion. "I have four arms, not two arms and two wings." It tucks back out of sight; there's something of disgust in his voice.
That too may distract from that first statement.
"...Angeal may know ways to prepare raw meat to that level of quality," he adds, cautiously. "If you'd like."
cw: talk of body horror, hint of emeto, uncanny valley
"What did you just say? As in a female like me?"
With breasts and other various lady parts? This had clearly not occurred to her as being an option. Well, now it does. So much so that she's lost in the mental loops of wrapping her head around this new and very interesting variation on What It Means To Turn Into A Dragon that she wholly misses what Sephiroth is saying next.
Something something visual demonstration and that could have been just as much about a display of observed gender changes. It is certainly going to draw Gaia out of the thoughts quickly, pulling the heating poker out of the fire in a belated action to be set aside. There is a beginning of maybe protest that they can certainly be a little more delicate about... er, comparisons. And then the strange limbs are brought into view. Once more, Gaia nearly forgets what had been going on and sucks in a breath.
What might have once been the start of an embarrassed flush at the idea of Sephiroth sort of just... being naked in the middle of her common room is arrested as the strange and indeed malformed-seeming limbs that have been cut free from his back near the same time her own 'blades' cut out.
Her skin is generally pale and what remains of her human skin goes ghostly with a mix of fear and horror. Fear that has a name, by the look of recognition flickering past. Horror at the sight.
It can't be. Not here. No, Gaia realizes. It can't. It wouldn't pause like this, Sephiroth would be... it wouldn't be blood, but it would be seeping. She'd recognize its searing light against the cool and familiar dark that, though muted since her arrival, is still present. She swallows against the lump of bile. Yet it seems too late to talk. The disgust in Sephiroth's voice, the way the limb goes back out of sight quickly and she can't speak in time.
And then he sounds so normal offering the suggestion of what Angeal might be able to do on the subject of preparing raw meat to look a little less horrible to consume that Gaia almost lets out a bark of laughter because she doesn't know what else to do.
"No, wait. Wait. I'm sorry," she starts to try and get to her feet. Despite her earlier remark it seems she can find the impetus to stand if she's given enough space and time. She slips and unbalances once but thankful falls forward and to one knee, rather than back into the hearth.
"Let me see it again. Please." It's clear she thinks her reaction is to blame and as if to prove she's not trying to keep her distance, that she means what she says, she starts to wobble toward him.
no subject
"Stop that, you're going to get further injured and I'll have to call someone to assist." And though it's sidelong, he's watching to make sure she actually CAN get back up. There's a fine line too with being willing to demonstrate exactly why he's not willing to keep just deludedly hoping everything is nice and fine, and being willing to put himself back on display afterward. "I have ... never been normal. It would have been stranger if that changed here, than it staying the same."
no subject
It's Gaia's shame and the other teen's words regarding how hopelessly resigned he is to the experience of being unnatural. She manages to right herself at least and then eases to the floor. "I doubt you want others here any more than I do. Come over here then for a minute. The washing can wait."
Stains are suddenly just not important.
But instead of trying to insist again that he show her, the young woman is patting the floor near her. Come sit with her and at least show she's not rejecting him. Whether he does or not, Gaia continues to speak.
"The sin-eaters I've told you about." Spoken of in vague terms as being living creatures overwhelmed by the 'element' of Light. But the details... "It's... when you see something, someone change into a sin-eater, it's horrible."
Has she seen a transformation that she can remember? Not... really. But since then she's read stories, seen pictures, witnessed sin-eaters. A ripe imagination does the rest. Though the teen seems to have struggle putting it to words, it's clear where she's going with this.
"I can't tell you that what you just showed me didn't remind me of that. Or that these transformations in general are never good things for the people who have to go through them. Whether or not they're normal."
She might have pretty blades for wings but that's not normal by any means. None of this is normal.
"I'm sorry. None of this is really helping, is it?" Her voice is sounding a bit shaky even if she makes an effort to sound like her normal self.
no subject
When he does finally move it's to settle closer, but inevitably not too close; there's a line of nearness that inevitably seemed to encourage people to reach out and he's not going to get that near for almost anybody without a good reason. "..Mm. Not sin-eater at least. I'm definitely gaining no association with light, and my scales are still very dark." They hadn't in fact changed much color at all.
It's .. not exactly a reassurance, she knew he wasn't becoming one anyway, but the association.. would apparently be hard to break.
Though it's not the most comfortable to sit with his knees pulled to his chest with the way his body's reconfiguring itself, he manages anyway. The long fingers of his seconary arms were useful for that much.
"I don't think anything is really going to help." The admittance is reluctant, slow. "Nobody's treating it like they should be. I don't know how most are so calm, acting like it's normal to be covered in scales and having a voice in your head telling you to remember to wear warm socks."
Angeal was not taking it as calmly as it looked. Who else was hiding? Maybe nobody. Maybe everybody. "We're not supposed to be upset. We'll get told we're not really losing our humanity, we're still human.. but there isn't a human in the universe that looks like this." He turns a hand palm up, the scales there small and dark and fine, rubbing the tip of one blunted claw across them. "If we were slowly turning into sin-eaters instead of dragons would we still be expected to just accept it?"
After a moment it's shaken off. "I would like to be snatched up by a foreign power and tossed onto a strange planet where the result is you become completely ordinary and nothing exciting ever happens again."
no subject
The appendages had sparked a memory of the terrors of transformation. They didn't mean sin-eater and the young woman nods with confirmation. "Not of Dark, either. I may not have all my strength, but I can at least tell that much." But what this energy is that's changing them, she doesn't know.
Born of the First, she doesn't have the insight of Ishgard's blooded history with dragonkind to relate to even in the barest of fashion.
"It seems to be something thought of as honorable to this world. And I get what they're meaning. This legend of their heroes." Gaia shakes her head. "But that doesn't mean anything really. Where I came from, this sort of rapid transformation is bad. Even if you can hope to keep a sense of who you are or what you are."
And they're supposed to still be what they are? The teen gives a not-so-delicate snort of disbelief.
"No, you'd be expected to fight as much as you can against it. Even if it's inevitable. Or was until recently." She corrects that last bit before sighing in frustration. "There were some that were afflicted with the condition but didn't change right away. They were tended in hospice until just before the end."
It need not be said what happened just before the end.
"A method's been discovered to undo it. But without the knowledge of what this energy is, much less a way to remove the source? I doubt we'll get so lucky." She shakes her head before looking over at the other teen and with a dry manner speaks again.
"Not that I'm saying we should end it ourselves, of course. It looks like people are still arriving so if... things don't turn out how we're told they are, if someone can find a solution to this, I want to wait as long as possible."
And if that means waiting as a huge, territorial dragon without her human mind, well... well.
Gaia laughs. It's not really amusement but there's a faintly lighter tone to her next answer.
"If people could go around wasting power like that... well, I suppose I wouldn't mind either. Unless of course it's to keep us from being able to save our world and the people we care about."
no subject
Some might. He has only scorn for being expected to walk in some hero's footsteps. He knows what he is - and a hero, he is not.
The lack of agreement on her statement they shouldn't end it themselves suggests a little perhaps on how that is viewed. It would be better than becoming a beast, wouldn't it? Normalcy was always an impossibility, now it seemed even further away. "I've.. been working on and off on devising a way to at least make us safe to the people here, should we inevitably become animals."
Planning ahead for an obvious future though, that wasn't hoping for the impossible. "In lieu of whatever method your planet uses to undo this kind of thing.. mine.. can occasionally tame monsters."
That's what they're becoming after all. "They use them as we do military dogs, and it mostly seems to be about socialization. Dragons.. are by and large, territorial in the extreme, and will defend anything they think of as 'theirs'." The laundry will need to be tended to soon. "There's a chance we can fool our base instincts into deciding the people of this town, and the town itself, is our territory. We won't be safe for visitors, but the ones who belong here.." Maybe it would be better than nothing?
The vague flickers of reassurance don't make it better. The dragon had every reason to want them not resisting.