[Open + Closed] If I Had A Nickel For Every Time My Soul Got Transformed...

[crushed_pearls]

Who: Erin Peters and YOU, but also Phil and Cassandra de Rolo
When: January 21st Onward
Where: Locations
Summary: Fallout of some regains, trying to bounce back still, So Many Animal People On This Ship
Warnings: Lost bullshit, Erin's eyes in a jar, violent transformation. For reference all prompts after 1 feature the post-transformation Erin.


1. Well One Of Us Is Going To Have To Change (Closed To Phil; Sundries)

Avoiding asking Friday why she gets so much fucking mail is getting increasingly difficult for Erin. The curled-up scrap of the Contract with Stone is unexpected but very welcome; at last, she can haul her own sunfish, or at least not spend power like water to do so. The jar with her FUCKING EYES IN IT is disgusting but Erin had given them to Colors for Hedgespinning; maybe she could do the same? Or, preferably, Ossie or Giles or Okie might do the same, as Erin doesn't want these curst fucking things anywhere near her...

The grooming kit arrests her attention, though. Erin knows these tools. She used them often, once Gabby had warmed up to her. They're even etched with a little 'GG' encircled by feathers and thorns. God, it's been so long; Gabby was decades ago, and yet, and yet -

Searing pain, down Erin's shoulders. She lurches, dropping the grooming kit back into its package, crying out in shock. That sound rapidly becomes a scream of absolute fucking agony as raven's wings tear their way out of the meat of her shoulders and shred the back of her dress and coat into tatters. Feathers lace their way into Erin's tempestuous hair, joining the storm, and little scales - like a bird's - grow into place around her wrists and ankles.

"Mother fucker," Erin half-yells, half-sobs. And then, in a louder voice, a call for help: "PHIL!"

There's blood everywhere now. It's gonna be a whole fucking event, isn't it?

2. The Retired Villain's Club (Closed to Cassandra; Cabin 134 & the Hoard)

Love can you come to my cabin at your convenience? I have something I want to show you and talk about. Difficult conversation probably. There is no rush whatsoever.

3. Acceptable Levels of Hypocrisy (Around)

Sometimes you need to resort to weird measures to get around your problems. The issue: Erin has not been eating properly and she knows it. The solution: Erin is now eating in the weirdest goddamn places. Catch her with cups (not bowls) of various foods while perched on the statue in The Promenade, nibbling her way through an improbable amount of carbs while whittling in the Lounge, carefully eating garlic bread with a fork in The Library, or even indulging her endless need for sugar in the shallow reaches of The Infinite Tommy Bahama. Can't be on people for self-care if she's not caring for herself, damnit.

4. A Castle Made Of Clouds (Tauva)

Every few days you might catch Erin at Tauva with her doll's castle, now fully-manned by wooden figurines with operational siege weapons (powered by rubber bands), poking and prodding at it with her stylus and sometimes jotting down notes in braille. If she has reason to suspect you're into building, y'know, buildings, or have experience with interior design, you might have received a text requesting a consultation on a project; if not, well, she's got a doll castle in the smoking lounge, fuck's up with that?

Comments

[goodweather]

… Right, he still doesn’t know what that means, but he can torture her later with interrogation when she’s more coherent. Both of them are a bit busy at the moment, so he shuts the hell up and goes.

It’s a crawl of a process. Phil opens the door handle with a hand and kicks it the rest of the way open, dragging Erin over to some cot and then leaving to rifle through the nearest cabinet. “You hanging in there?”

[crushed_pearls]

"Wish I wasn't, g-got to pass out last time." Her wings twitch and Erin almost screams. "N-no bandages? Am I still bleeding?"

[goodweather]

“No, just covered in it,” comes his voice, the sound baffled by a wooden box. Naproxen, Tylenol… “And cleaning it off can wait. Have you eaten recently?”

He peeks out of the cabinet for a moment just to listen for anyone else in the infirmary, getting nothing back. Is there really no one better qualified around? Guess everybody’s on their god damn lunch break.

[crushed_pearls]

"Haven't gotten around to breakfast," she says at three in the afternoon and change; depression is no one's ally. In a strained voice, clearly staying conscious at least partly by willpower: "G-got, I got Gabby's old grooming kit. For feathers, we can - there's - you can show the powders to Friday and ask her to stock them for you."

[goodweather]

"Erin, I've been cutting it by myself for the last year. I don't know how to use any of those."

Just his fingers and talons, baby. But hey, no judgement about the breakfast here. He's been worse.

Phil stands up, back cracking. "I'm thinking all that's left for us is doing something about that pain and then cleaning you up when it's done. I'm going to get food from the buffet. Eat what you can. Meds aren't going to do shit if you haven't got anything in your stomach. Preferences?"

[crushed_pearls]

Owls! How do they work???

Erin almost answers sugar and then her sense of self preservation kicks in: "Whatever not spicy soup they've got. Chicken noodle, wonton, whatever, just, soup. Possibly garlic bread."

Part of her wants desperately to make an Edgar Allen Poe joke but that's not happening today.

[goodweather]

Well, Google sure isn't conclusive about it!

She can pull the joke some other time. Maybe Phil will come back at her with some lame Harry Potter jab or something.

"I'll be quick." It's great when you can skip the elevators via flying straight up from standing through the atrium. He does as he's told, grabbing her food and a bagel for himself. He's gone and back again in give or take fifteen or twenty minutes.

"Here," he says, setting a tray in front of her, the spoon clanging in the bowl. "Vegetable soup. Garlic bread's on the side. Glass of water is there too."

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's breathing has steadied at least, and she flashes a wan but grateful smile. What starts as a careful spoon of soup quickly devolves into ravenously eating half the bowl before she visibly remembers to pace herself.

"Thanks," Erin murmurs as she sets the bowl back down with a certain reluctance. "...Was it. Like this for you too?"

[goodweather]

He looks up from where he's halfway through a bagel, holding up a finger to spare him a moment before he finishes chewing.

"If it was, I was asleep for the whole thing. For all I know, Cordis was kind enough to just staple them on, and that was that. All of the animal transformations from the moon goddesses were like that, actually. They just... happened. Small blessings."

And another bite out of his bagel.

[crushed_pearls]

Small blessings. Erin nods, and decides, no, she's not gonna lay her body image issues on Phil right about now.

Besides, her chosen deflection also has a practical need. "Any, uh. Do you have any advice for the winged life? I know I need to find a tailor now but besides that..."

[goodweather]

"Mmmm. Your feathers are different than mine, so not all of my experience is going to be applicable, but let me think... well, first of all, backpacks are going to get stuck, so don't use those. You should still be able to sleep on your back but it's going to be complicated. Be careful when you turn around or bend over. If it rains again, get a wider umbrella than you think you need. Flapping your wings in flight is more of a diagonal than just up and down."

[crushed_pearls]

"Good news bad news, I can only glide, and with magic at that." All the downsides of wings and only half the upside, gotta love it. Erin returns to her soup, sipping slowly right out of the bowl, and manages a nibble of garlic bread. "...Thank you Phil, again. I think. I'm gonna eat, and then maybe take a nap in here before I just subject Helena to Suddenly Wings. Food and a nap make all things at least a little better."

[goodweather]

“And Tylenol. And I’ll help you wipe all the blood off.” He thought about telling her to shower, but that might be too complicated for someone who grew wings not even an hour ago. “Thankfully, we have most of our work cut out for us. I won’t argue with food and sleep.”