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

[he has such an interesting way of speaking, and nick finds herself drawn into the cadence of his voice, the way his words wind around and sideways and back again. she spends much of her time at work listening to people talk about themselves, and it’s not that she flat-out doesn’t care or pay attention - what they have to say usually just doesn’t stick with her. not the case with drifter.]

I’m sure we could use your expert know-how on all the dimension-hopping stuff. There’s a couple of us who’ve been tossed around a few times, but I think I’ve done it the most, and I don’t really know a lot about how it works, y’know?

[this is the second stop for at least one other kid in the rag-tag group of revolutionaries. but he wasn’t interested in figuring out the mechanics of how they were brought here as much as he wanted to simply strongarm his way back home, by any means possible.]

You said that you wanted to hear about the places I’ve been before I ended up here. If you wanna hang out for a while, I can tell you about it - if I can ask you two questions. The first one’s pretty easy - d’you want something to drink? [she grins, a little lopsided.] My menu’s not quite as extensive as the one downstairs, but I’ve got a few things on tap.

Yeah. I figured if I helped y'all out in what you wanna do, you could help me get at whatever roadmap the Head is using to get to people.

[He crosses his legs lazily, one ankle up near his knee and he scratches at the scruff on his cheek, along one of the scars that he's had for a full damn millennia but can't rightly say where he got the things.]

But yeah. Tell me about 'em. I could stand to learn somethin'.

[He's listening, even if he's looking damn casual about it now. Just merrily relaxing for the moment 'cause he knows moments where you're allowed soft furniture and a good story are fleeting. Always somethin' about to beat down the door. Hell, could just be an empty stomach starting to complain. Just give that a moment.]

[she nods gently and heads toward the couch, carefully placing the gun on the coffee table after double checking that the safety’s still on before she takes a seat on the couch next to drifter. she frowns in thought for a moment, then returns her full attention to the man sat next to her.]>

Let me know if you change your mind about that drink, yeah? [she really doesn’t know how he’ll react to her main question, so maybe that will make for a necessary distraction.] What I wanted to ask - and if this is too personal, just tell me to fuck off, I know we just met an’ all - but I was curious, since it sounds like, from what you said, that you didn’t really have a say in what happened to you. [and neither did nick.] So ... if you take out the part where you have to keep going through dying and getting hurt and coming back from it ... other than that, do you like living as long as you have? Or do you get tired of it eventually?

[she inhales a sharp breath and quickly adds:] I’m not askin’ just to be a nosy bitch or anything, I just - I haven’t met a lot of people who can talk about this from experience, and I’d kinda like to know what to expect from what I have ahead of me.

Well I'm not real particular. I'll take whatever you got too much of. Live what I've been through and any swill is like a fine wine.

[He settles in, leaning on the arm of the couch. He rubs his mouth contemplatively in thought, giving her a more careful look than he had before. Then he sits up.]

I think we don't know how to live no more. Not in the way we were born to. If you're not careful with it, you start dependin' on your abilities rather than your skills. You forget what it was like to do the little normal things humans do. Then you watch 'em goin' through it, watch 'em strugglin'.

A person fighting for their life is more alive than someone like me'll ever be again.

But contrary to my show downstairs, I ain't a guy who enjoys pain too much so that'll have to do.

[it’s a better answer than she expects, and she’s grateful he doesn’t seem to take offense to her asking. she’d wondered if what he tells her would be the case, that living so much longer than a human’s lifespan changes you; she only has ushahin’s memories to draw ideas from, and he’d experienced so much pain and loss that it was hard to focus on anything else. his memories shattered her mind until he put her back together again, but they also gave her perspective, and she’s grateful for that, too.]

Sounds like this kinda life gets pretty lonely.

[but she’d guessed as much. good thing she’s already used to being lonely. she gives drifter a small, sad smile and rises with a murmured be right back, then makes her way the short distance to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water and a glass with two fingers’ worth of whiskey - not top shelf, but not bad for middle of the road. she sets both on the table in front of him and takes a couple steps back, hands shoved idly into the back pockets of her jeans.]

Fair’s fair - time to show you mine now.

[she’ll get to the story of her travels in a moment, but what happened to her before she began the voyages is just as important. nick takes a deep breath and closes her eyes and shifts - no flashbangs, just a silent change. one moment she looks like she has since she and drifter met, and then next she’s grown half a foot taller. her short dark hair grows into cascades of curls that come down past her shoulders; her skin smoothes and whitens into porcelain, perfect except for the deep crack spidering over her forehead; a long, black victorian-style dress made of layers and ribbons and lace replaces her ordinary street clothes. she opens her eyes - same brilliant shade of blue, only now made of glass instead of living tissue, fringed with long, dark lashes - and looks up at drifter to check his reaction. she doesn’t imagine there’s much that would surprise him, given what he’s been through and for how long, but she’s always a little nervous about showing her transformation for the first time.]

Not a gun, but I did make it myself.

[her voice is mostly the same, except for the slight echoing quality, caused by the fact that she’s hollow inside.]

I've seen people like me with plenty of friends. A lot of 'em feed off each other's power, though. A bunch of like minded powerful people surrounded by weaker ones? Does things to the mind.

[He doesn't think people like him in particular should exist. A Lightbearer is inherently an unnatural, inhuman creature, and painting it otherwise is romanticizing a tragedy.]

[But then she changes, and whatever drink he was about to have is ignored because he's getting to his feet. What the hell sort of super is that???]

Damn, what is your skin made out of? [It looks fragile, but he takes her hand and steps closer, squinting. Feels a lot firmer than it looks. Tough as Hive chitin.]

[nick’s never been entirely comfortable with being center of attention. if you stick to the shadows, stay out of sight, you stand less chance of drawing focus on yourself, of making yourself a target. such behavior became instinct learned from living with her mother, a strategy for avoiding marlene’s insults and violence when they were forced to share the same physical spaces. nick got better at taking center stage when kennedy recruited her as lead singer of her newly-formed band, but even now, being in the spotlight makes her heart pound.

she doesn’t technically have a heart in this form, but if she did, it would be pounding now, too. putting herself on display like this feels like those anxiety nightmares she’d get before a show - naked on stage, familiar words forgotten, the crowd booing and laughing at her while she’s frozen to the spot, paralyzed with fear and unable to speak or escape. it’s like drifter’s now seeing all the secret parts of herself that she keeps hidden away, and it’s equally thrilling and terrifying. what can be more intimate than showing someone your true self? even though nick’s exponentially stronger in this form, she feels much more vulnerable.]

It’s ... made of me, I guess? [she doesn’t pull away from his exploratory touch. her skin is cold, but easily warms in his hand. no one’s ever come this close to her when she’s like this. no one’s ever thought to touch her while she’s in this form.] S’posed to be something like porcelain, I think, but I don’t break that easily. I’ve been shot and stabbed, and it just chips away a little. I’ll have cuts and bruises when I change back, but I heal pretty fast.

[she finds that she doesn’t mind being touched. the warmth feels like an anchor to this body, something nick’s always struggled with. slowly, she inches closer and holds out her other hand, an invitation if he cares for a closer inspection.]

Didn’t really come with an instruction manual, and we’re all different, so I’ve never seen anyone else who looks like me to ask.

Yeah, it sure as hell is a new one on me.

[He squints those steel-blue eyes as he walks around her, taking in the difference even in clothing as it changed.]

Where I'm from magic and science sort of collide. Ever'thin' in me wants to find an explanation to how you just pulled that off. [Even if people often write him off as not being intelligent enough to carry it. He comes back around to her front, rubbing his chin, surprised by the entire transformation but not fearing it and not doubting it. He's an old soul who's seen many things, and she's a young one in something rare and new.]

You know, there's an Exo just down the hall from where I work. Fiesty woman. Has a lotta passion in her, and a china pattern inlaid into her armor. Never actually got to touch her chassis, she's not really partial to my kind, but I always imagined it'd feel a lot like this.

You're a work of art, woman. I'd relish that.

[Though the more stunted, less creative and emotional part of his brain hopes she isn't stuck like that for a while now just to show him.]

You usin’ my own lines on me now?

[she doesn’t have much of an expression in morphus; her features are set in that stiltedly pleasant style typically found on dolls. but her vocal tone suggests that if she weren’t physically unable, her red painted-on mouth would curve into a teasing grin.

she’s not art, though. art’s beautiful, and nick’s never held the opinion that she’s much to look at - especially not like this, with obsolete clothing and a cracked forehead, a hollow, inhuman facsimile of a person. or maybe if she is like art, she resembles those artworks meant to shock and horrify the observer.]

I can tell you exactly how I pulled it off, but I can also keep quiet if you’d rather do your own exploration and try to figure me out.

[Drifter isn't exactly a pretty person. Not with the scars and the battered look. Even without his post-apocalyptic gear he looks something like a vagabond. His own work is often derived; scrap turned into a kit-bashed but effective aesthetic. Nick here is cleaner than anything he could ever make.]

You know, I bet I could make some armor tough enough that you could save up this form. [He lightly pokes her in her abdomen, through her dress, looking pleased with himself.] Save this baby up for the last moment in a fight.

[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.

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

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