metamorphotic | you've got to carry your heart like a torch in the night.

you've got to carry your heart like a torch in the night.

[scars tell stories, and that’s a hell of a lot more interesting than some arbitrarily approved standard for what’s considered pretty or beautiful. nick prefers imperfect things - clothes from secondhand shops, books that are creased and worn and scribbled in the margins. part of that’s because she grew up poor and it was typically cheaper to acquire previously owned things. part of it’s a good old-fashioned rebellious streak, a defiance of the norm that only the new and pristine are worthwhile. both factors developed into an appreciation for the battered aesthetic that she still values, and that extends to people, too.

nick switches back to her human appearance just as quickly and silently as she changed before, laughing quietly with her hands pressed to her abdomen.]

Hey now, I may be harder to kill like that but I’m still ticklish. [the grin of genuine amusement indicates that she doesn’t actually mind the poking, that the protest is only for show.] Might have to take you up on that, if you’re plannin’ on making that a habit. What’s a set of custom armor go for these days?

[she should give a better explanation, now that the showing part’s finished. hands settled at her hips, she levels a steady gaze on drifter and begins:]

People like me, we’re called Nightbane. I have no idea who decided on that name, it sounds like the name of a shitty mallgoth band, but the point is I ain’t a regular human. “Developmentally atypical human” is what I was told after I Became. A kid I met on my last jaunt said I sounded like a mutant from his world. [she shrugs.] I found out what I was a few years ago, the hard way - got attacked by something that wanted to kill me. Presto change-o, now I’m a monster with weird abilities and a super long lifespan, as long as nothing manages to kill me while I’m like this. [she gestures up and down her body.] Can’t exactly live normal anymore, either.

Can't even escape the worst parts of bein' a human, huh? Damn. Turn into porcelain or close to it an' you still get ticklish.

[But the last bit gets some sympathy. A soft-] yeah [-as he tosses his coin to bounce off the floor and back into his hand. The aim of it impeccable. The type of man who'd never mess up drawing a weapon or missing a shot, showing through his bewildering mastery of chucking little jade tidbits.]

Gonna tell you somethin' you ain't gonna like. If you're any sort of decent, if you got even a single shard of human left in you, you're gonna miss normal. You might give up on it. You might miss people. You might hate the memories likin' people start to make; like you just got a disease that's gonna take a century to recover from. But to be honest, normal? You'll miss it.

But then again, I met plenty of trash that didn't miss it.

[Some of his old associates, even.]

I was part of a group that got the wrong idea about how to deal with a threat comin'. A good bunch of 'em ended up goin' power hungry with it, it ate the end-goal for 'em. But bein' most important means nothin' if you're just succeeded until the end of it all. You seem to got a better head than any of 'em had.

[the coin trick is a curious mannerism, but it’s also impressive, and she watches just as closely as she pays attention to his words of experience.]

Why Drifter, I believe that is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.

[it’s only half a joke, though. where other children may’ve received encouragement and praise for academic or athletic or artistic abilities, nick was only ever told that she was worthless and a fuckup who’d never amount to anything. she internalized her mother’s hatred and turned herself into the exact thing her mother saw in her. a good head on her shoulders? that’s a recent development.]

I already miss normal, [she admits with a sad smile, and meanders back toward the couch to reclaim her seat. drifter’s welcome to join her, if so inclined. she’s ready to tell him her story.] One of the places where I was before I got dropped here, it gave us all fake memories of different lives. I wasn’t a monster there, just a girl with a mom and a dad and a kid brother. The monsters there were horrible giant things that came out of the seas and wrecked so much of that world. Me and Tim - that was my brother - we lost our parents in one of those monster attacks, but we still had each other. I went to work as a mechanic on the machines that were built to fight those monsters when they kept showing up, and - yeah, the monsters part was weird as hell, but everything else? We were just doin’ our best to survive.

[she closes her eyes for a moment, allowing the memories of that other life to swell up and push forward in her mind before she shoves it all back down again. then her eyes open again and settle on drifter.]

I still remember that girl’s life just as clear as I remember my old life back in Chicago. And me and Tim got pretty close for real after that, and I - I miss him. [she huffs a quiet breath that might be an attempt at a laugh.] Guess I got a lot of that to look forward to now, huh?

[Drifter listens to her story, leaning forward, thinking about these other places where people met alternate versions of themselves.]

Well, Darlin'. For one thing, you ain't shown me monster yet. Me? I'm a monster. But not you. You still got a whole lotta life in you.

[Drifter's life? It's fake. It's not real. It's a sort of automation, a manufactured existence to meet an endgoal.]

In my world some bigger monsters came from deep space. An I'm the type that went and wrangled 'em like pets. An' those monsters- it took me three hundred years between dealin' with those damn assholes lookin' for that power trip an' talkin' to those old things in the deep that I learned how to build these portals.

So if you wanna try to live that normal life, Sister, or close to it? I'll do my level best to get you there. Fair is fair.

[No promises. He'll say level best. He remembers holding too many bodies and watching them fade out. Promises are filth to an immortal.]

[it’s good that he doesn’t promise - nick wouldn’t believe a promise anyway. she’s heard too many promises that weren’t kept. as a child, nick promised herself she wouldn’t turn into her mother when she grew up, and she still learned to turn to alcohol for a comfortable escape and turn her anger against anyone and everyone in her path in the form of sharp words and casual violence. she and andy promised they’d stay friends forever, and they grew oceans apart despite living in the same house for years. promises are hollow things, just as hollow as nick’s porcelain doll form.

she knows she’s a monster; she’s claimed that part of her identity, embraced it. drifter’s claim otherwise draws an amused look.]

You did just see me turn into a giant freaky doll, right? [she laughs.] Bein’ a monster don’t automatically make you something bad or evil. took me a while to figure that out. Couple months after I Became, I got dropped into this mostly-dead city called Hadriel. It was run by these things that called themselves gods ... they fed on our emotions. Fear and Hope were the only two, at first - Fear was a creep, Hope was a dick. Both of ‘em said Rage and me’d get along great, but when she showed up, she nearly got me to kill this woman I’d never even talked to before. Didn’t really wanna be besties with her after that.

[she frowns at the memory of that incident, how out of control she felt, how completely overtaken she’d been by her amplified anger. how lucky she was that chris was there to stop her, even if that meant taking a bullet to the head.]

I did three tours in Hadriel - got sent back home in between. Tried to fit back into my old life, and it just ... [she shrugs.] It didn’t work. First time I went back, it was seven years later, even though I’d only been gone a few months. That world moved on without me. I woke up every day expecting I’d be back in Hadriel, until one day, I was. Second time I went home and came back, I didn’t even pretend I was surprised about it.

[she stretches out an arm and retrieves the bottle of water from the table, cracks the cap open, takes a long drink. her time in hadriel was fraught with perils, but she grew into a new person while she was there - a better person.]

I didn’t really have any friends, back home. Never was any good at making ‘em, for the most part, but I somehow made a few in that shithole. No one exactly like me, but there were plenty of other monsters - and not just the ones in the caves that kept tryin’ to kill us. But those friends I made, they showed me that I had a choice in deciding what I wanted to be. See, I thought I was a monster even before I Became, and what I turned into just kinda proved what I’d thought about myself all along. They showed me I was dead wrong.

[so if drifter’s a monster too? that’s fine by nick. until he shows her something different through his actions, she’s not gonna hold that against him.]

So ... tell me, Drifter, [she says, with a playful grin stretched across her face,] how d’you figure on helping me get to live a normal life?

[it’s not that she doesn’t believe he’s sincere. she just isn’t sure she believes it’s possible.]

Edited (decided what this really needed was more words) 2019-11-30 01:11 (UTC)

Sister, normal to me is travellin' through space and scavenging. I'm not talkin' back to family and stuff. I'm talkin' tryin' to get you back to where you know.

[But the comment makes him wonder, and he asks what's perhaps an odd question. Maybe not so much considering what she just said, the names of those gods getting him thinking.] Was there a 'Hunger'?

[Because Drifter can still hear him. Making him want to rummage through her cupboards. Making him want to go back to the dorm and raid the fridges for other people's leftovers like a heathen. To go and store food. They're not exactly words, even if the Shadows of Yor called them 'whispers'. They're urges that take your own voice. That take the voices of your friends. The angel and devil on your shoulder that look exactly like you.]

[Whispers and shadows everywhere. The whispers of the Ahamkara- wish-granting dragon gods. Back home he has a bone from one. Bits of it can imbue armor and weapons with mysterious powers that strip opponents of their strength for you. They also whisper to you. The Nine and their persistent rattling in his head.]

[It's a distraction from the more relevant topic, though.]

Sounds like for hatin' these kindsa places you kinda like 'em, too. Means ever'body is in the same boat. They end up with a lotta monsters.

That's alright. Well, at least I'm gonna try to get at the Head. What you want from there? I'd like to see if we can help each other.

Guess I better figure out where that is, huh?

[she smiles like it’s a joke, but it’s a joke that’s made to cover for something much less mirthful, something sticky and prickled that should be kept locked away from sight. then she shrugs.]

Like I said, the world I knew moved on without me - maybe even before I got picked up by the Door. I did some traveling in space later on and it didn’t even feel all that weird. And here? ‘Cept for the obvious reasons, it’s just another city. Cities are always gonna have bars full of people with broken hearts who’re lookin’ for a distraction. And those bars are always gonna need people to pour drinks and listen to those broken hearts. Bartending’s really all I know - that and music. I can do both of those anywhere.

[she has no ties back on her homeworld, no family, no close friends. her mother hadn’t contacted nick once after she left for chicago, might even be dead by now. her former friends and loves have all moved on with their lives. and nick refuses to allow herself the hope of finding tim again. she knows that would only set herself up for disappointment.]

But I’ll help you get outta here - I’ll do whatever I can. I don’t want anyone to be stuck here any longer than they gotta be. I mean, yeah, gettin’ dropped in the middle of somewhere weird and dangerous with other people or monsters or whatever, it makes you feel less alone, knowing everyone else is in that same boat. But we already established I gotta get used to being alone, right?

[she flashes drifter another of those not-quite-joking smiles, and quickly moves on to answering his other question.]

There wasn’t a god called Hunger in Hadriel. Fear, Hope, Rage, Delight, [her face twists into a momentary scowl with that name,] Sorrow, Tranquility, Confusion, and Love. Just Fear and Hope at first, and they let us pick who they’d bring back next, when they’d built up enough power for it. Love was the last one, [she says, with a light laugh. somehow, that wasn’t surprising.] Why? This Hunger guy owe you money or somethin’?

You're gonna know more. Eventually.

[Drifter looks at his nails, then at his palm. To be honest, he hasn't seen his hands on a regular basis in a long, long time. He's been in his armor pretty constantly.]

Trust me, I was a bartender, too. I've been a farmer. Tended to livestock. Been a bodyguard, escortin' Pilgrims to the City Walls. Decided that the light wasn't enough, became a scientist. [Of sorts, anyway.] Did all the research the damn purist Warlocks wouldn't- they're uh... a class of Risen that are high intellect, carry all their power in the energy they put out. They got shit for resiliance though. You need some damn good armor to take care of them. Like glass cannons, they are.

But a guy like me? They didn't see me comin'.

You say that 'it's all you know'. You'll learn more. 'Cause there's only so long you can do the same old, same old.

[But that last bit, the explanation about the gods, this time it just earns a shrug. He physically tries to write the feeling off with the gesture, an act of denial in the words as he associates it to being a 'them problem'.]

Nah. The Hive name their gods in sorta fancy ways. Secrets, Keeper of Order, the Ever-Hunger, the Will of Thousands, the Honest. Anything that names their gods that sorta shit ain't good. Ever-Hunger is the biggest of the assholes. Sounds like one of them owes you money, especially with that look on their face.

[she already knows more than "just bartending" - she has the mechanical knowledge and skills of that self from her alternate world. she's not intentionally omitting that for devious purposes, just selling herself short. nick was told for so much of her life that she'd never amount to anything, and she internalized that falsehood about herself, took it for truth and came to believe that being a bartender was the best she could manage. she'd never get a college degree and land a job in an office; she wasn't good or lucky or driven enough with her music to stand out and rise to fame. but she could do what it takes to get by, and nick always figured that was enough, because she didn't have any designs on living an exceptionally long life.

now, though? an exceptionally long life is exactly what she has to look forward to, unless circumstances align against her. maybe she'll manage to figure something out before that happens.]

Delight was the only one of those assholes I could stand. She was ... nice. She wanted everyone to be happy. She gave us a bar, and she gave me a job there when I needed something to set my head on straight and keep me going. And then she sold us all out to these robot things that wanted to just kill us all. She acted like she was our friend, and it turned out she cared even less about us than those other shitheads - I mean, Fear at least was upfront about being a creep and wanting to scare us. Burying us alive was really fucked up, but he never pretended to like us like Delight did. And he still wanted us to stay alive, even if it was only so he could get power from us.

[her fingers tighten for a moment around the plastic bottle of water, and the bottle makes a crackling crunch of noise. nick leans forward to set the bottle on the table in front of her, then slouches back into the couch to flash drifter a subdued smile.]

I just don't do well with betrayal. But I guess I better get used to that, too.

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