Who: Mikasa and open with some closed prompts
When: Throughtout the month
Where: Mainly in Aefenglom
What: Full moon things and quests plus some investigating
Warnings: Some body horror for the full moon and some casual parital nudity, will add more if needed
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OPEN First day of the full moon – CW slight body horror, bug things
The irritation only got worse whenever she moved.
So Mikasa had given up on that. Not that she’d had much of a choice. She wasn’t in pain, but it felt like something gritty was poking her skin with every movement. Like having a small pebble in her boot and not being able to remove it.
With a sigh, she’d slowly sat down on a nearby wall. Hoping for it to pass, stilling like a statue where she’d perched. Only her antenna and hair drifting in the breeze.
At the sound of someone’s approach, her eyes flicker open. Though she didn’t open her mouth to speak or give her normal small nod in greeting. That’d make her neck itch again. For now she just silently stared, yes? Why are you standing there, what do you want?
But her stillness only made the small movements more apparent. On her back, just below her shoulder blades, her shirt was being pushed out. Something occasionally slithering under the fabric. Creating a noticeable bump.
If one waited long enough, there might even be a small tear as the fabric gave way… That makes the fae move, back straighten, neck craning to try and look over. Almost falling off of the wall.]
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As still as Mikasa was, he almost misses her as he walks past- but the slight movement caused by the stirring of wind has his gaze flicker over to her, accidentally meeting her eyes directly. He frowns, out of habit.
...Emet-Selch doesn't recognize her, but he remains paused there at the sensation of being stared at, wordlessly, without so much as a nod of acknowledgement. If he'd just been ignored, the Ascian would've passed by with little more than a generally cautionary glance (after being kidnapped, people become a source of wariness, something to keep an eye on; fortunate that he still had one working eye to do so), but being stared at has him stop. Has him stare back, so the staring continues.
And then... movement. But from an unexpected source; as the Ascian had paused in his approach, he can yet make out part of her back, which was- no, that was not normal back behavior. There was something going on under her shirt, and his only concern was: is it a threat? A prelude to some strange attack?
But her reaction to it seems to indicate that this wasn't a normal or expected affair, and the Ascian tilts his own head as he watches Mikasa contort herself to get a better look at... whatever was going on with her back. And it's enough to disrupt his initial line of questioning- likely something about whether she made a habit of staring blankly at strangers, and his tone is mild, clearly unconcerned for whatever was happening to her, despite how closely he was watching.]
I can't imagine that's comfortable.
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Her own movement sets off the itching again. Especially when her chin presses into her chitin covered shoulder. The slight pressure making it worse. She couldn't even see her back. Idly, a hand comes up, both covered in exoskeleton now. That's going to scratchy uselessly at her neck. It does nothing to soothe. For one thing, the plating on her neck blocked her from scratching the itch, and she no longer had fingernails.
...joys of being a monster.
She's slow to turn back. Not wanting to make it worse by suddenly moving again. Finally blinking at the guy.]
It's not...But the coven can't help.
[Chitin, apparently it was a rare trait so none of the fae she knew could help either.]
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Because this was either some new and exciting infection, or this woman was possibly undergoing some part of a transformation. The full moon was a hint in that direction.]
And I imagine it's difficult to scratch one's own back effectively... particularly when it's covered in- scales.
[Or chitin- some kind of hard covering is about all he can tell, assuming it extends further than he can see.]
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Instead of scratching though, Mikasa moves her hands. Just shoves them in her pockets so she can't poke at it. Even if she winces and grits her teeth during the movement.]
Yeah...The last time I pulled a lump of it off. [...are you happy with that bit of TMI Emet?] The Coven have said there's nothing they can do about it.
[Before he brings them up. Because that was what normally happened when she mentioned her issues.]
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Why would the Coven help?
[Is what Emet-Selch asks first; it's certainly not what he would've suggested himself... though mostly because he didn't trust them, or any other organization on this world. And barring a very small handful of Mirrorbound (it hardly even qualified as a handful), he trusted no individual either.
No, problems were still primarily meant to be solved or suffered with alone.]
You're- a fae, aren't you? [With the sort-of-scales, he briefly considered 'dragon' as an option, but she didn't have any of the other obvious markers. And the antenna seemed to imply 'insect'. But even for a fae, the chitin was... unusual. He had known one other fae before, but she'd been more along the lines of a butterfly. And he hadn't witnessed her transformations.] Perhaps one further along could offer suggestions... though it seems as though all monsters have little recourse but to accept their life of discomfort and disfigurement.
[Reassuring as anything.]
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But Emet-Selch gets a huff at the second comment.] That's the second thing they always tell me. As though I've not already thought about it... [It's followed by a small snort, somewhere between amused and not.] None of the mirrorbound ones have grown a shell and local ones can't talk about growing it. [Because they'd only known it.
But thank you sir, for your confidence.] Seems so. [Dryly.] I'd say I'm doing better than most, but I'm only six months in.
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But he doubted the Coven or any other group on this world was telling them everything that they were up to or intending, while simultaneously believing that they were also thoroughly incompetent. But malignant or otherwise, he had little faith in them.]
It is the obvious suggestion, isn't it? [He'll admit readily enough. Fae were, presumably, the natural experts on being fae. But if they couldn't provide any recommendations on how to make the unpleasant parts more bearable- the Ascian could well believe that there wasn't any solution to offer.]
Though if you're six months in... you shouldn't have too many more ahead of you before you've reached your true self. [An apparent human into a more apparent insect. How fitting.] Nothing to do but hang in there, hm? I would hope the physical discomfort will pass once you've settled into what's left of your changes. Not that I'm altogether certain how long that does take... being a witch, after all, I've not experienced it personally.
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Her antenna give him a flicker. Eyes staring a bit longer.]
Supposedly. I've heard that people stop changing after nine months, but the longest someone has been here is just over a year now... [Then her black eyes narrow. Head giving the smallest nod even with the itching.] ...You're Mettaton's bonded, aren't you? Did your neck finish healing?
[You look better than the last time she saw you.]
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That long... my, perhaps the worst is ahead of you yet.
[More reassurances. But at her last statement, her question, his expression flickers between one of surprise, comprehension, thoughtfulness. Finally, he nods, more to himself than anything.]
Ah... now that explains it. You're Mikasa, yes? I've been trying to place your voice.
[Between that, and the stoicism, the phrasing of her replies- it all clicks into place, and he gives a small, theatrical little half-bow.]
Emet-Selch. A pleasure, I'm sure, to finally be formally met.
[But right, she asked a question; his hand absently touches the side of his neck where the bite lay- but lightly, as though it were somehow still tender- or something fragile and precious. His tone, however, remains calm, polite in its idle way.]
I'm also sure you'll be glad to hear my neck is much improved, though I imagine I'll always bear the scar from it.
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There was a time when his dispassionate gaze would have been mirrored. But since her eyes had changed there'd been a certain...delight at just staring at people. Staring without blinking. Unnerving them. Making them uncomfortable without much effort...
The nod gets an antenna flick in response. No nods for you.]
Short of me fully turning into a bug, I don't think a lot more can change... I'm already less human than the others.
[His bow, that earns a small movement of the head. Not so much to nod, more to just track the movement. Finally blinking when she glances at his neck.]
He didn't take you to a healer then? They seem to have an issue about leaving them. [Something about it looking sloppy if a healer left a mark. Though some seemed to leave scars for the stupid injuries to make a point. Given the pretty big scar right under her eye, she didn't care.] If it's still bothering you, it'd be pretty easy to make a balm for it.
[It wasn't magic and wouldn't heal immediately. But it'd help speed the process. Her eyes drift from him though, moving to look at her right hand. Chitin covered now, and it still had her bandages. She hadn't removed them yet. But the pain was gone, along with her tattoo.]
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He's distracted instead by her mention of healing, responding to it with a shrug and a shake of his head.]
It seemed unnecessary at the time. I did awaken on my own, and required no more than a bit of rest. The scar's existence is little trouble.
[His body was already well scarred up from being tortured; even if he'd cared for keeping it pristine (which he didn't) it would've long since been a lost cause.]
But it doesn't bother me by this point, no. Of course, if you pressed on it with little care I might protest, but you'd get the same response in most locations.
[A light, dry comment; he has much fresher bruises than that.]
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It gets a huff as the fae takes a breath and stills again. Silently waiting for it pass, gaze breaking off to look at nothing in particular.
She wasn't going to bother him about getting the scar removed. She had her own. Her hand, the one hand that the exoskeleton hadn't covered but was rapidly being hidden away. That had scars she'd gained when she was much younger. Just a girl picking berries from thorn bushes. Scars were just a part of life...Though she was losing them here.]
...I think most people would argue if you touched them at all. Except people like Mettaton and my bonded.
[That wasn't to say normal people. Because Mikasa wouldn't put herself with normal people. But Mtt and Tendou had moments where even she did not know what to do with them.]
Well, I'm glad it worked out. Mettaton had you the wrong way around when he first called.
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Drawn to the unnaturally affectionate as well, are you? The things we must endure.
[He says it like it's a bad thing- both the being drawn to, and the affection (for all that he was sort of becoming accustomed to the... niceness of it, sometimes, at least from Mettaton).]
Though I don't recall being in any strange position.... [He trails off in thought, looking aside; his memory of the encounter had mostly returned, and he's pretty sure he'd just passed out on his back, and had also woken up on his back, but--] Ah- that's right. You had him fix how I was elevated, didn't you? It likely helped.
[He'd already expressed gratitude once; that's as close as he's going to get to it again.]
But it's not as though you're without your own wounds, are you?
[He'd noticed the bandages around her hand, and though he'd nod in their direction, it would mostly just look like nodding in her general direction. Considering the chitin she was covered with, he wondered what sort of damage it could conceal.]
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I think it might be the other way around... One told me my face is so still they want to see what faces I make when surprised... [Or something like that. Mikasa hadn't understood what had been so amusing about watching her eat.]
Yeah...He'd put it so the wound was the lowest point. [Not that it really helped much. But in future Mtt should know that blood goes down. Hopefully. But hopefully, Mettaton would never have to play the role of medic again.
The injured hand flexes at it's mention.]
...That's fine. Despite several people thinking I'd die from a minor burn...One of the pixies from the other week was trying to burn my garden. [So she'd punched it.]
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[People should just let the stoic or the irritable be their fine selves. Emet-Selch didn't really understand it either, and his tone reflects that, though he shakes his head after a moment. Was this a common extrovert trait? Or just something the eccentrics they knew had in common? So he can commiserate a little, even as he continues, turning back to considering Mikasa's injury.]
Ah yes, I noticed there was a bit of firestarting in the recent past. Fortunately, my things and my limbs managed to escape unscathed.
[But unless a smallish wound like that became particularly infected, or had some other condition attached to it, it would be a strange thing to be overly concerned about.]
But you decided to let it burn you in place of your garden? [Lightly; it's clear enough that she likely got the wound in the process of fending the pixies off.] But someone would have to be quite delicate to die from something like that. Are fae particularly weak to flame?
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Her nose wrinkles at the comment.]
I didn't let it burn me. I knocked it out of the air while it was casting...It's the only one that finished it's spell before I got to it. [She'd been swatting them perfectly fine other than that one pixie.] Wouldn't touching something hot burn anyone? I don't get why they were reacting like that.
[Really though? More than one had recommended healers to her. Or offered to heal it themselves. Even if fae were more vulnerable to fire than a human, it was still a minor burn.]
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'Twould burn anyone who was not already made of flame. But some people enjoy the drama.
[A snort, accompanied by a small, disapproving shake of his head.]
I suppose many others are unused to the sight of injuries greater than a scraped knee or a bit of sunburn. And so, they overreact.
[Don't worry Mikasa, Emet-Selch won't spare even a shred of concern for your poor bandaged-up hand.]
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Mettaton mentioned he'd been set on fire in one of the dreams...
[Because he had seemed pretty pleased with himself. Though it was over the network.]
That explains a few. But some knew I'd had worse and they still doted over it.
[She appreciated it. Even if she didn't mention it. She was fine, didn't get the fussing.]
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Did he? I imagine he enjoyed it... or at least found it amusing. I can't say I appreciate the sensation myself. With his body though, I wonder how that felt....
[Who would even try to set a robot on fire.]
And I suppose still others feel the need to help, even when there's no call for it. Even when it amounts to no more than fussing and getting in the way.
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Terrifying...] Can his descriptions of how things are felt be trusted? [Given he was still learning, she'd had to explain to him what a strawberry tasted like. It wasn't an experience the fae wanted to repeat, how did you describe a flavor to someone who'd never tasted before? Probably not how she'd done, but being good with words had never been her strong point.]
It does explain why the coven healers are so strict about what they'll heal. If people go running up to them at every little thing.
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I would say his descriptions... would be simultaneously most and least trustworthy. New as he is to them, anything he offers would be free of a lifetime of bias. Yet at the same time, his interpretation of anything is... like to be creative. He thinks flavors have colors.
[Emet-Selch will still not accept this, just out of pointless stubbornness. But it's a muttered statement he concludes with a huff.]
And I assume you deigned not to waste a healer's time despite all around you warning of immanent catastrophe should your wound not be treated by a legion of mages?
incoming body horror.
I think the colours are the same as the food. I think he said strawberries tasted red...[Then anything that tasted tart like a strawberry was also called red. She sighs.] I don't think I've seen him dislike something.
[A challenge for her. Though Mettaton had already found a thing she didn't like. At the question, he gets a small snort.]
No. I'd rather let it heal on it's own. Most the people I know who've been learning that magic only have a months prac-
[There's a small gasp, then she's hunching over with a shudder. That lump on her back was straining a little more. Something damp pressing against chitin and fabric.]
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Though any reply is cut off, flavor-or-healer-related alike, as he's distracted entirely by Mikasa's show of- discomfort? Displeasure? It gets a look of mild curiosity instead, as he tilts his head, watching. Showing no signs of sparing her any kind of discretion for what was happening.]
Is that...? [A brief, thoughtful sound.] I've never seen a monster undergoing their changes before. How fortunate, to have me as your audience.
[It's light, if not quite friendly. If nothing else, Emet-Selch is neither concerned nor particularly disturbed at what seemed to be happening. Backs were not meant to have straining, damp lumps like that. Yet fae seemed to all have wings, Mikasa was a fae... the Ascian can guess what's most likely to be trying to emerge from her now.]
1/??
Once the discomfort passes, the guy just got a slow stare that morphed into a squint. Meettaton's food taste forgotten for now. You serious.]
Thanks. [As dry as the air was during the pixies' reign of terror.] Have you rea-
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