come_sailaway | Fable the Second: Hindsight and all that

[Wayne is, perhaps unsurprisingly, keeping to himself just lately in an effort to keep from making things harder for himself and others. Gil's text will find him lying facedown on the couch, blanket pulled over the upper half of his body, but the moment he sees the contact name, he shifts enough to have a hand free to reply.

He backspaces out of making a joke about waiting an hour and seeing what else happens.]

sure

my room?
maybe one day we can steal a machine from the arcade to plug in there but like
rn im good to just hang out together like a pair of dipshit cats

Edited 2023-03-31 07:32 (UTC)

i can be a dipshit cat
could plan lifting a cabinet

[Just give him a few minutes to pull himself together and head down the hall and knock. He might still have sheet lines on him.]

[The door opens perhaps a hair too quickly, but Gil's fine he's totally cool he's chill.

He spots the wrinkles on Wayne's face and a corner of his mouth crooks up.]

Sorry if I woke you up, I think?

[He's just gonna rub his hand over the spot Gil's looking at and try to smooth it. He can't help smiling in kind.]

Nah, man, nah. I was just being lazy on the couch but this sounds better.

[It's not like Gil's room is meaningfully different from Wayne's, apart from the lack of kittens and giant robot, but he's also relocated a thick blanket to the couch and left a thin one on the bed.

Gil lets the door swing shut behind them, and continues to play with the small item in his hands - a bit bigger than a grape, but yellow, and ridged like a pumpkin - tossing it from one to the other.]

Who doesn't love a good heist? We'll go steal the lot of them, make sure no one ever takes our high scores.

[That is a comfortable-looking blanket, too...]

Arrange them all in here like against the walls.

[He points out some of the blank spaces here and there in the relatively spartan space. Then he folds himself down onto the couch to drag the blanket over him, trusting that Gil wouldn't look at him too weird over it.]

[His only real response to Wayne getting his cozy is a faint chuckle.]

Exactly. Perfect crime.

[His hands pause, catching the small fruit and trying not to squeeze it as nerves catch up on him.]

But, I, uh. I kinda wanted to show you something first.

[Look, even with everything that's happening, he's comfortable here with Gil. He intends to hang out, maybe even for a while.

At the news that Gil has something to show him, he uncurls and sits up to pay attention. The fruit is new. He'd never seen one like it before.]

What's up?

[He starts tossing the fruit again because he needs to do something to burn this anxious energy out, but he's trying to keep his expression neutral.

Fuck, he can feel his tail twitching with it.]

So, I've, like. I've mentioned how I'm not- really human. Anymore. How this- [He catches the fruit again to gesture with his empty hand up and down himself.] -is all like, an illusion. Makes me look human to people who can't see through magic shit. Which- includes you, so.

[He tosses the fruit up this time, demonstratively, before he catches it to lob gently at Wayne.]

That'll let you see through the illusion. The Mask, we call it. See the real me.

[Wayne listens, sitting with his elbows perched on his knees, fingers laced together loose between them. He murmurs a "right, yeah" when Gil mentions them having talked about the nonhuman part of him, because he remembers that talk, having started reminding himself thereafter that there's humans, and human-but-slightly-to-the-left. That the version of himself that he presents isn't real, though? That gets a soft frown. He's about to ask for the details when the fruit is tossed to him, and he catches it on reflex.

Holding it up to examine, Wayne looks from the goblin fruit back to Gil. This is supposed to show him what's under Gil's skin? Sort of?

He pauses in the act of going to bite it, teeth an inch from the rind of it.]

So I just eat this and I'll see you?

[There's something hilarious about how ready Wayne is to take that on faith and just stick literally anything remotely edible in his mouth and the hypocrisy of Gil specifically thinking that, but it's lost a little in the nerves.]

Pretty much. It might look a bit, uhh... dramatic? Our magic is kind of literally powered by it sometimes. But it's- it'll be fine, I'll be fine, it won't do anything bad.

[He's put worse things in his mouth even in the recent past. Just wait until Gil hears that his first instinct upon seeing Max's box of infinite hotdogs was to just...eat one. Right off the deck.

It's probably weird to watch him shove the thing into his mouth without any more hesitation. At least Gil wouldn't have to linger on that for long before he's swallowed the thing with no comment as to its flavor, chewing slowing to a stop when before his eyes skin turns to fur, nose to snout, blunt fingers to claws.

Huh.

Wayne reaches out where he's still as seated, straining to snag one of Gil's hands that hangs nearly to the floor now, trying to hook his fingers to pick it up and examine the same way he's done to more decidedly human hands.]

[The scars are less visible under the fur, but the way it sits at odd angles in some places suggests there's more than was last visible. He's got huge bat-like ears, that are pressed back against his head, but as Wayne reaches for his hand they perk up, and that thick collar of fur across his neck and shoulders (like a mane, if it weren't visibly clipped down by scissors at some recent point) starts to visibly lie more flat.

His hand is larger, thick and flat and calloused in a way that almost looks like pads on a paw, and his claws are trimmed down almost to the quick, as he lets himself be dragged to sit next to Wayne.]

I'm a... Changeling. [His voice is raspier now, more husk than gravel, but still perfectly understandable.] There's like five of us here, but I'm the only Ogre. That means I'm the big, strong mean one.

[Wayne's thumbs press into the thick-skinned palm in a slow pass that runs down his fingers, interest obvious in the way he examines the way those claws are clipped down short. Utilitarian, he thinks, figuring that they probably get in the way of doing some things. He doesn't know how Viewaxians manage with their claws, but he's never had any so he just can't say much either way.

Above all, there is no judgment. He takes every detail in, everything Gil might explain to him, and takes it in stride. He's curious of course, turning Gil's hand over and looking at one of the scars that he reminds himself is from repeated dismemberment, and the way the fur rests around them. Perhaps some clippers to take it all down short would be a good option? He doesn't know. He had never had the option to discuss such things with any of his furred acquaintances.

Wayne looks from the hand to the man it's attached to. The gravity is there, but it doesn't feel as dramatic as if Gil were to have shown someone native to some version of Earth.

Instead of asking questions right away, he moves closer and uses a hand to comb through the fur near Gil's jaw to examine the scars around his neck too.]

Big scary mean ogre?

[There's a skeptical sort of tilt to his brow. Gil doesn't seem all that mean or scary to him, but he is perhaps in the unique position of taking the comparatively weird shit in stride.]

Doesn't all this get itchy, hiding it under the skin and stuff?

[Gil doesn't often get touched.

Not in a way where there's the understanding he's not human, at least. He's had casual affection, fists and shoulder bumps, the occasional hug, but nothing that doesn't make his fur stand on end as it gets rubbed, inadvertently, unknowingly, the wrong way, every time.

So feeling Wayne trace the shape of his hand, his actual hand, resting on the fur and moving with it sets off goosebumps under his skin.

And then Wayne just touches his neck and his brain shuts down for a second.

His body doesn't: the skin under Wayne's fingers twitches with the shock of touch, and the area he's combing through fluffs up around him as it prickles; his ears flick up as they turn red from his heart skipping a beat, and he swallows thickly, the sound suddenly feeling far too loud to his own ears.]

Um. [His tongue flicks out briefly to wet his suddenly-dry mouth, a flash of pale pink against the pitch-dark brown, and when he speaks it rumbles through Wayne's fingers.] Illusion means non-physical, I, um. I know it's there, like an extra sense. You don't actually feel it, it just, like-- stops your brain from realising I'm... wrong.

[Gil's voice seems deeper like this, and he wasn't really expecting something like the illusion that he's describing to extend that far. Perhaps it just resonates differently when Gil isn't hidden behind his Mask.

There's a frown that comes with the explanation.]

I don't like things messing with my perception. [He has to point that out. Some self-reflection as of late, and some close examination of his memories, has shown him some frankly alarming discrepancies that he's started to write down to compare. He'd show Gil later, the next time they sat down to update some things in his notes. Which...he hasn't actually updated much as of late, with everything else that's been happening.

Still, he shifts and reaches around as his fingers trace along thick ropes of scar tissue, taking a fuller account of it all and the way it interrupts the direction that the fur grows.]

What happens when the fruit wears off? I just stop seeing this? Even though I know it's there?

[His head cranes to the side a little with the movement of Wayne's hand moving closer: a part of him wants to push it away, but the part that desperately craves this soft touch shouts it down all too easily.

The inner conflict is making it hard to think.]

's'not personal. Part of the way our magic works. It won't let anyone see it's real unless you're already affected by it, or- or something stronger, more magical shows you. [There's a soft rumble in his throat as he inhales softly under Wayne's touch.] You won't forget. You just won't see it anymore.

[Wayne's hands fall away in the hopes that he hasn't managed to make Gil uncomfortable with his curiosity; it may not have been the case so far since they've been friends, but this is far more personal than trying to explain the broad strokes of human sexuality.]

I don't have anything powerful like that. [He could destroy things, or put them back together. Physical affects. Nothing that would let him actually see Gil for what he is. It doesn't seem fair. He can't have everything though, he knows that. He'd settle for just leaning against the larger body the same way that he usually does whenever they hang out close together.]

[Gil's ear flicks as Wayne pulls his hands way, and his own comes up to ruffle the fur on his neck to settle the persistent tingling there.

But when he lowers it again he shifts to sit closer to Wayne. Practically pressing against him, with his forearms resting on his knees.]

Maybe there's something I can try asking for back home that'd let you see it for good. I dunno. But. I dunno. I just wanted you to know. Felt like I wasn't genuine 'til you got to see it.

[He's comfortable sitting here tucked against Gil's side, especially warm and honestly enjoying the softness that comes with having actual fur. Maybe it would no longer be available to him for a bit longer, but he'd enjoy it while it lasts.]

I mean, you never actually lied to me about anything, you know? You told me about like the basic stuff and I gotta tell you, the whole, being dismembered then put back together is like, way worse than you being a different shape. I'm pissed over that but that's at the people that did it to you, not at you.

[He reaches for Gil's hand again, letting the back of it rest atop his knee and once more gently running his thumbs along the much darker palm held between his hands.]

I'm gonna like you no matter what you look like. You could be a white amorphous mass of meat and I'd still like you.

That sounds way too weirdly specific to be a random example.

[He lets his hand be kidnapped into Wayne's lap, just enjoying the sensation of being touched now that it's less overwhelming.]

It wasn't about lying. It was more like- I didn't wanna keep something that big from you. All my Changeling bullshit. It's... [He tilts his head slightly. Look at him.] -a lot. For most people.

[He gives a soft hum, a quiet amused rumble.]

Like, I knew you were probably gonna take it well given your whole everything, but I was still, like. I dunno, scared. Kind of. Worried about how you'd take it.

[Wayne's hand comes to rest against the huge palm, fingers resting far short of Gil's in this form.]

It means you trust me enough to risk a negative reaction. [The conclusion is quiet, almost as if he's just talking to himself. He looks back at Gil with that, giving him a tilt of a smile.

There's a thoughtful sort of quiet as he circles back, debating on how to explain what it meant because yeah, that was weirdly specific, especially without the appropriate context. So Wayne takes a breath and looks back to their hands instead.]

At the height of the Hylemxylem, everyone got transformed into these...weird, twisted piles of flesh on legs with no color and no command over their words. Their bodies and minds were all melted. I went home- back to Waynehouse to see what Old Wayne knew about the situation, but he was changed too. There was an option to kill them and put them out of their misery but, I just...I couldn't. That's my family, I thought. My friends and the people I care about. I'm not gonna just mulch people if there's something else I can do about that.

Long story short I did it but like, going back there and seeing something like that sticks with you, y'know? Even if I managed to fix it it doesn't change that it happened, but just because they were all blobs didn't make them any less important. So...yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm in a good position to be able to handle this too. At least you can still talk to me in this shape.

[Five minutes is never as long as you think it is; it's about two thirds into Wayne explaining, he'll blink - and Gil's Mask is back. Still thick fingers and a broad palm, but only the same size as Wayne's hand again, and the too-warm beast pressed into his side is just skin and scars.

But his eyes are still the exact same, watching Wayne with an aching empathy. And an unpleasant chill at the thought of that - coming home to everything being impossibly, seemingly irreversibly changed - rolls a line of fur on end down his spine.

His hand curls carefully, catching Wayne's fingers gently between his to hold his hand.]

Yeah, man. Seeing people you care about get messed up is fucking rough. I'm glad you managed to fix it, but... fuck.

[He lets his head rest on Wayne's shoulder in a moment of gentle pressure.]

It's fucking terrifying.

[The change is so abrupt that there's a moment of pause as the illusion clicks back into place as making sense to his brain, but then he moves on past it.

The gesture is so easy, so natural to him, that he doesn't examine or second-guess it. He holds hands with others when they seem amenable to it and he's close enough to Gil that it feels right to do it here too. The weight against his shoulder is likewise welcome, and the side of Wayne's head comes to rest against the top of Gil's in kind.]

I think it messed with me, too. Not to the same extent, but...

[It was enough that he was paranoid about it now.]

Hey, at least you're still you.

[One ear flicks so it doesn't get trapped awkwardly under Wayne's head, but the nook of his shoulder makes them both superheated anyway, and he's trying not to think about it too hard but he's very much thinking about it.]

...debatable. [It's his turn to watch their linked hands, ghosting his thumb back and forth across the barely visible tendons on Wayne's hand.] Changelings aren't... as a rule, we aren't okay. It's not the same thing, but- same vibe, I guess. I look like myself, kind of, but. The shit we had to do to survive. [He tries not to swallow.] We all went through different shit. But it was still'- parts of it felt pretty 'xylem. People being changed against their will, into different bodies, things that didn't make sense, or should even be possible. The world around us didn't make sense. Arcadia, it was called.

[He turns their hands slightly, just resting them on their sides a bit.]

...being changed to something that isn't supposed to exist. It does... bad things. To your head. To your grasp on reality.

[At least he doesn't retain heat very well, any space put between them allowing him to cool back down again. Unfortunately, he has no desire to put that distance between them and get that air on his skin, so they would just have to deal with it.]

My people were almost reduced to homogenized chaos. I don't think any of us will ever really fully bounce back from that. We can try, but the nightmares are gonna happen.

[He shifts, and leans his forehead against Gil's head, being careful about where he could remember an ear being. The conversation that he'd had with Klaus only a couple of days ago drifts to the forefront of his mind, but this is probably not the time to say anything about it. Not when they're actually unpacking some of the things they'd gone through. So he swallows that thought for now, and tightens his grip on Gil's hand.]

I don't- I don't know how to help. I stumbled into what I needed to do, back home. I was never meant to do any of what I did, I was just...I was just a guy. I'm not good at this. Like, any of it. I don't know if I'm doing any of it right. I don't even know if I can. I'm gonna try though. If that's okay with you.

[Forehead to forehead is a less a matter of ear issues than muzzle logistics, but Gil knows how to angle his head at this point so he's not just smooshing through Wayne's face.

He can feel how hot his ears are with the proximity, and the prickle of heat under the fur across his cheeks. He's absently glad that he's never showed a blush well.]

Shit like this, helping isn't, like. An active process. You don't have to do anything. Just- y'know. Listening. Being here. Even you just getting it means-- a lot. [A faint smile cuts through the intensity on his face.] It's not about being a big hero or whatever, I don't need saving. Just- being a guy, with you. 's'nice.

[Wayne's free hand comes to wrap around the back of Gil's still held there atop his knees, cool sharply contrasting the radiating heat. His eyes close, but he mirrors the smile and tries to relax even a little bit, with limited success.]

I can do that.

[Just kind of existing with other people is what he's best at. If that's what Gil wants from him, he's not going to argue.]

I tend to be cool with it though if your buddy comes to me spouting a bunch of Van Helsing hate speech about fairest I will be blaming you personally. That said I am not sure how much of an opinion I get here.

I mean anything Wayne's learning about Changelings is hot off the press from yours truly and I don't have a personal problem with Fairest apart from like

Idk sometimes they dig at some old scars. Metaphorical ones. You're chill tho surprisingly.

Oswald and I generally prefer to keep the spread of that information on our terms where possible, so if you could keep us out of the specifics that would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for asking. Giles

[a short break, and then a second text]

Also, if any of you have seen or heard from him recently could you please let me know.

Fuck is he missing? I know dog people if you want your worry to be non optional for him.

That won't be necessary. I am fairly certain I know where he is, it is simply inaccessible. I would rather not go into detail on the matter over semi-public text messages. Just. Keep an eye out for him. Please.

[Gil isn't allowed to say he's pleased he's not allowed to be a rude cunt.]

Let us know if you need anything and we can do deliveries or something.

Hard same.

Erin had gotten distracted with the news and now has no good way back to the whole 'you're chill' thing, which makes her feel odd. Not bad, but...definitely odd.

She chews her lip while she holds her phone.

Thank you, I shall keep that in mind. I did not mean to divert the conversation, please do continue.

[ He's just, you know, almost at his wit's end.
And also has no experience with group chats. ]

I would normally say it is hard to divert a text conversation but I gotta say the experience of having the same shit ass computer voice announce a name in a flat monotone and then read your texts to me in the same monotone is eight thousand times more surreal than anything Lewis Carrol tried to pull off.

About a minute later.

That said we might as well have the whole Van Helsing talk now especially since I am not the only Fairest aboard.

for sure dude, i WAS the one that offered

just let me know if you wanna swing by for it or you want it delivered

It's called being polite you little shit

[So Okie's fantastic on multiple levels.]

You good if I swing by in like ten minutes?

actually its called fuck you bud

[Is anything so lovely as a two way street?]

im good with ten mins yeah

Fable the Second: Hindsight and all that

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Gil renamed the chat: Motley? Y/N/STFU

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