[It might be worth the trip, but Pom feels uncomfortable in his skin when in Kelesis, doesn't like the changes that happen to his body; he's afraid it's just a sign of things to come.
On the other hand, he'd feel a lot better about Gale going anywhere if he went. For all he knows, Gale might walk out the door and never come back.]
[Now there's an answer he likes. Worried as he might have been for Gale to go on this adventure all on his lonesome, Pom finds himself genuinely smiling as he packs a satchel with some spare clothing and all his essentials.
After sliding into his leather boots, he pauses before his glittering coat, the garment draped across the chair at his desk. It's tough to wear it in Kelesis, the shape of his body changing so drastically that even his wrap shirts aren't forgiving enough, and must be retied; however, it's one of the few pieces he has left that makes him feel like himself, like who he ought to be. It's got a few more stitches than when he arrived, some of the blue-and-indigo scales moved to cover fresh seams and patches, but it's still a work of art, a piece of himself - of home.
And he's feeling so far from that home these days, sometimes consider the house he has with Gale as 'home' instead. He tosses the coat around his shoulders, slipping into the sleeves as he grabs his horn and heads out the door.
He's quick at packing, so he waits in the den for Gale to depart, taking a moment to sit on the couch and stretch his feet. They're still sore, still aching, but he figures a walk might sort them out.]
[Gale might have been fussier, once. When he traveled, he used to pack carefully and never lightly, preferring to be prepared for any possibility. Then a Nautiloid ship had sent him on an unexpected journey with nothing but his spellbook and staff. The months he'd spent on the road to Baldur's Gate had involved scrounging through corpse pockets and eating what rations they could scavenge, and while he'll still never prefer 'roughing it', he learned something about packing only what he needs.
It doesn't take him long to pack the essentials into the satchel Pom had made for him. He meets Pom in the den not long after he'd sat down, a hood up over his head and the strap of the satchel over his shoulder.]
Ready? Losing daylight. [He comments. Ever since he came back, his speech has been more terse, clipped, saying only enough to convey his meaning. His body language has changed too, more ursine, more predatory.]
[His own comments tend to be clipped themselves, short, erring on the side of ambiguity when it helps create a sense of intrigue. That's a part of his persona that has worked in well with his personality, as he often finds conversations exhausting. However, it's odd for Gale to be like that, and ever since he's been back, Pom can't help that bubbling sense of worry that something is wrong. Maybe it's as Gale said - he has some feelings of anger not just from what happened to him, but also from the second Soul itself, and that Soul is slowly eating away at the rest of him.
Pom feels like that himself sometimes; he certainly has for the past month, when his own rage tipped into primal brutality, when his hunger became too much to bear. Escaping Karteria — even for a brief time — should do them both some good, let them forget about the horror their lives have become for just one night.
He does what he can to keep them both human, to soothe the Natural Souls within them: contact, connection. He reaches for Gale's hand as they lock the door behind them and start walking, letting the wizard decide if he wants to fully take it. He reasons that if it works for him when Northly does it, it'll work for Gale, helping quiet the beast within.]
You sure you're okay going through the Patho-Gen headquarters?
[As someone with absolutely no love for Patho-Gen or half their technology, Pom isn't a big fan of the teleporters... but they are certainly the fastest way to Kelesis.]
[Gale has always had an uncomplicated relationship with touch, quick
to pat shoulders or offer hugs, but how when Pom brushes their hands
together, Gale startles and jerks his away. He brings it close to his
chest, protective, instincts screaming, not his hands not again.
Then he looks sheepish about it. He doesn't comment, but he does reach for
Pom to clasp their hands with an apologetic glance.]
I... Well, I'm not exactly excited to be there, but it would take too long
otherwise. I want to get there before night fall.
just switching to prose because it's easier on you and we do what we want here 😎
Pom looks equally sheepish, immediately kicking himself. He should've thought, should've realized, this is what happens when Purl isn't—
But then Gale takes his hand anyway, and the slightest smile pulls itself from him, despite the concern etched across his brow. He gives Gale the gentlest squeeze.
"We'll be together. And if they try anything, they'll find themselves real sorry real quick. All right?"
"Yes, absolutely." Pom's hand in his own bolsters Gale's courage, and he's able to enter Patho-Gen HQ with his spine straight and tall. Any employees they cross paths with find themselves on the receiving end of glacial glares. Only Pom, with his keen carnivora hearing, can pick up on Gale's sub-audible growls.
Once they're through the teleporters, some of the tension eases out of him, but he keeps a tight grip on Pom's hand, like someone might try to take him away — and considering recent events, they might try.
"I know going into Kelesis is hard for you. Anything I can do to help?"
Despite the looks the two of them get the entire way, the trip through the headquarters and teleporters is relatively uneventful; however, it's Kelesis itself that's more of a challenge for Pom. His gait remains uneven as they make their way toward the city, his eyes its barrier on the horizon.
"Just gimme a minute to fix my clothes when we get there," he answers. He hasn't yet seen Gale under the city's influence, but he can't imagine him changing much more than he already has, his hair full of feathers, his eyes mismatched as though his own magic has bled into one of them.
"Last time I was here, I was trying to find a book for you in one of the stores. Ended up knocking two shelves over. Stumbled right into one, tried to balance myself with my tail, smacked another one, and down it went."
Despite everything, this information makes Gale grin, not quite as bright as it used to be, like the sun trying to breath through storm clouds, but still terribly fond of the man beside him. "That's a lot of trouble to go through for me. I appreciate it. I appreciate all the gifts you bring me, I don't know if I've said that enough." He tilts his head. "Did you get in a lot of trouble?"
Once they reach the border to Kelesis, Gale stops, looking sidelong at Pom. "Let me know when you're ready." He's not looking forward to this either, but Pom seems to dread it more than he does. Gale gives his hand a squeeze, reassuring.
"Nah, I think the folks running the place were as surprised as I was. Took some pity on me. It's kind of like a monster that doesn't realize how big they are until they get stuck in a hole."
He's just not used to being that monster. He takes a breath once they reach the edge of Kelesis, trying to work up his nerve. Glad as he is for Gale's reassurance and patience, Pom feels none at all for himself. He should be better than this, better than being afraid of what he looks like, what the city does to him, how it makes him feel. He's not used to being the monster - he doesn't want to be a monster.
He gives Gale an appreciative nod and lets go of his hand just long enough to remove his arms from the sleeves of his coat, leaving it draped across his shoulders like a glorified cape. His shoes come next - no point in ruining another pair. Once he's tucked his shoes into his satchel and retrieved Gale's hand, he steps through the barrier with him.
The change, while immediately noticeable, isn't painful, as his sudden Shifts sometimes are. His back hunches as his neck lengthens, his wrap shirt struggling to contain the change in both structure and hair as thick fur sprouts around the rest of his neck, blossoming from the back to under his chin, encircling his chest and shoulders. His ears emerge from the top of his pompadour, longer, pointed, almost as knife-like as the fangs that push themselves from his mouth. Scales coat his hands and arms, dark ones dotting the space from his nose to his forehead. While his single horn lengthens, it remains the only one he has, the asymmetrical feature no longer hidden by his hair.
There's an audible crack as his feet elongate, forcing him onto his front pads; he can't help but notice the relief as he changes his stance to match, as though his feet are supposed to be liked this. His tail, thankfully, undergoes not a single change - it's apparently as changed as it's going to get, and for that, he's privately grateful.
He remains standing still once the Shift is finished, his eyes lodged on the ground; he can't bring himself to look at Gale, and for a moment, doesn't want Gale to see him like this.
"Just—"
He hates his his voice sounds like this - rougher, deeper, less like his own.
"Just don't look at me, okay?"
It's a small ask, given they're going somewhere together to spend the night, right?
Gale's own transformation feels strange, and he makes a choked noise of surprise. He's never completely prepared for his body to change so suddenly, and something feels different this time, but he doesn't investigate. With the bandages still over his arms, his long sleeves and the hood on his jacket pulled up, there's little visible difference except that the lines on the left side of his face are much thicker, darker, and reach up to touch the eye that has turned purple.
"No," Gale says. He might ordinarily try to persuade him with soft, soothing words, but instead he moves around to the front of Pom, gripping his forearms. "If it bothers you, I can make you look like you were before with an illusion spell. I've done it often enough around Karteria when I don't want the locals staring at me. I would understand. But..." He dips his head until he can make Pom meet his gaze. "You don't have to. I don't think you should. There's no reason to be ashamed, there's nothing wrong with you. Now, do you need help walking? I've got you."
Tempting as it is to take Gale up on his offer, Pom finds himself bolstered by the wizard's reassurance that there's nothing wrong with him, his insistence that he look him in the eye when saying so. Pom looks at Gale from behind his glasses, his spectacles slightly askew on his nose, and finds not the gruff man Gale has been since his return looking back at him, but the compassionate, caring man he's always been. Pom was right - he's still in there, despite everything. And despite these changes to his own body, Pom is still himself, too.
Letting his clawed hands curl on Gale's, he shakes his head in reply. "I'll be okay." If it's anything like the last time Gale cast an illusion on him, he'll still feel wrong, which is almost worse than others seeing how wrong he is. He remembers his manners: "I appreciate it, though."
He will keep Gale's hand in his as they walk, as he is a little unsteady on his feet, top-heavier than he's used to being. The tail helps with balance, as much as he doesn't want to admit it. He lets Gale have his hand back just long enough to retie his wrap shirt in an attempt to tuck some of the extra fur in.
"I'm starting to think my changes got stuck somewhere for a while after that incident in the woods. Some folks are barely recognizable, while I've been able to pass as mostly human, so long as I keep my tail tucked up. I... get the distinct feeling those days might be over soon."
"Certain things seem to make the changes happen faster," Gale says. His
month spent sleeping in the woods had been the first thing to hasten his
corruption. His dangerous experiments had been the second. "I don't pass as
just human anymore either. We'll go through it together."
The employee that greets them to check them in is as pleasant and
nonplussed about their corruption as all the other Kelesians, wishing them
a pleasant stay and giving them their room key. It isn't difficult to
locate their room, but as soon as Gale opens the door, cold air rakes it's
claws across his senses.
There's more Pom wants to say — how much he doesn't want to be a monster, how desperate he is to keep passing as human, how grateful he is that Gale is patient with him — but that gets pushed to the back of his mind as the door opens and they're greeted with a scene less from a luxury inn and more from the frozen caves of Hoarfrost Reach. The entire suite is themed toward the icy tundra: the main room features a large igloo partially built into the wall, through which Pom can see the end of a bed; the sitting area has an ornate fire place and a rug made from what appears to be a white Arzuros, complete with head; the floor of the farm room is sunken in, a detail Pom recognizes.
"What in the hells," Gale hisses as he steps into the room. He's wearing a jacket due to the changing weather, but it's not at all up to temperatures like these. "There also appears to be only one bed. Should we... ask to change rooms?" He sounds uncertain. With the number of people offered the free stay, between those who need the shelter and those who are curious about the mystery around Kelesis, the place is probably full. He frowns and sets his leather satchel down. "I was hoping to take a nice long bath..." But he had imagined a proper bath tub in a separate room with soap and fluffy towels, not a hot spring out in the open.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
voice; @wizardofwaterdeep
no subject
no subject
no subject
[He might not normally ask, but given all that happened, he's on edge.]
no subject
no subject
I guess not.
[A beat.]
Do you... got company?
no subject
You could come. I know you aren't fond of going there, but it is a free stay in a nice inn. The room and board alone should be worth the trip.
no subject
On the other hand, he'd feel a lot better about Gale going anywhere if he went. For all he knows, Gale might walk out the door and never come back.]
You know I'm yours if you want me.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Then pack your bags. Looks like we're going on vacation.
→ action
After sliding into his leather boots, he pauses before his glittering coat, the garment draped across the chair at his desk. It's tough to wear it in Kelesis, the shape of his body changing so drastically that even his wrap shirts aren't forgiving enough, and must be retied; however, it's one of the few pieces he has left that makes him feel like himself, like who he ought to be. It's got a few more stitches than when he arrived, some of the blue-and-indigo scales moved to cover fresh seams and patches, but it's still a work of art, a piece of himself - of home.
And he's feeling so far from that home these days, sometimes consider the house he has with Gale as 'home' instead. He tosses the coat around his shoulders, slipping into the sleeves as he grabs his horn and heads out the door.
He's quick at packing, so he waits in the den for Gale to depart, taking a moment to sit on the couch and stretch his feet. They're still sore, still aching, but he figures a walk might sort them out.]
no subject
It doesn't take him long to pack the essentials into the satchel Pom had made for him. He meets Pom in the den not long after he'd sat down, a hood up over his head and the strap of the satchel over his shoulder.]
Ready? Losing daylight. [He comments. Ever since he came back, his speech has been more terse, clipped, saying only enough to convey his meaning. His body language has changed too, more ursine, more predatory.]
no subject
[His own comments tend to be clipped themselves, short, erring on the side of ambiguity when it helps create a sense of intrigue. That's a part of his persona that has worked in well with his personality, as he often finds conversations exhausting. However, it's odd for Gale to be like that, and ever since he's been back, Pom can't help that bubbling sense of worry that something is wrong. Maybe it's as Gale said - he has some feelings of anger not just from what happened to him, but also from the second Soul itself, and that Soul is slowly eating away at the rest of him.
Pom feels like that himself sometimes; he certainly has for the past month, when his own rage tipped into primal brutality, when his hunger became too much to bear. Escaping Karteria — even for a brief time — should do them both some good, let them forget about the horror their lives have become for just one night.
He does what he can to keep them both human, to soothe the Natural Souls within them: contact, connection. He reaches for Gale's hand as they lock the door behind them and start walking, letting the wizard decide if he wants to fully take it. He reasons that if it works for him when Northly does it, it'll work for Gale, helping quiet the beast within.]
You sure you're okay going through the Patho-Gen headquarters?
[As someone with absolutely no love for Patho-Gen or half their technology, Pom isn't a big fan of the teleporters... but they are certainly the fastest way to Kelesis.]
no subject
[Gale has always had an uncomplicated relationship with touch, quick to pat shoulders or offer hugs, but how when Pom brushes their hands together, Gale startles and jerks his away. He brings it close to his chest, protective, instincts screaming, not his hands not again.
Then he looks sheepish about it. He doesn't comment, but he does reach for Pom to clasp their hands with an apologetic glance.]
I... Well, I'm not exactly excited to be there, but it would take too long otherwise. I want to get there before night fall.
just switching to prose because it's easier on you and we do what we want here 😎
But then Gale takes his hand anyway, and the slightest smile pulls itself from him, despite the concern etched across his brow. He gives Gale the gentlest squeeze.
"We'll be together. And if they try anything, they'll find themselves real sorry real quick. All right?"
you're too good to me 💜
Once they're through the teleporters, some of the tension eases out of him, but he keeps a tight grip on Pom's hand, like someone might try to take him away — and considering recent events, they might try.
"I know going into Kelesis is hard for you. Anything I can do to help?"
😌💜
"Just gimme a minute to fix my clothes when we get there," he answers. He hasn't yet seen Gale under the city's influence, but he can't imagine him changing much more than he already has, his hair full of feathers, his eyes mismatched as though his own magic has bled into one of them.
"Last time I was here, I was trying to find a book for you in one of the stores. Ended up knocking two shelves over. Stumbled right into one, tried to balance myself with my tail, smacked another one, and down it went."
no subject
Once they reach the border to Kelesis, Gale stops, looking sidelong at Pom. "Let me know when you're ready." He's not looking forward to this either, but Pom seems to dread it more than he does. Gale gives his hand a squeeze, reassuring.
no subject
He's just not used to being that monster. He takes a breath once they reach the edge of Kelesis, trying to work up his nerve. Glad as he is for Gale's reassurance and patience, Pom feels none at all for himself. He should be better than this, better than being afraid of what he looks like, what the city does to him, how it makes him feel. He's not used to being the monster - he doesn't want to be a monster.
He gives Gale an appreciative nod and lets go of his hand just long enough to remove his arms from the sleeves of his coat, leaving it draped across his shoulders like a glorified cape. His shoes come next - no point in ruining another pair. Once he's tucked his shoes into his satchel and retrieved Gale's hand, he steps through the barrier with him.
The change, while immediately noticeable, isn't painful, as his sudden Shifts sometimes are. His back hunches as his neck lengthens, his wrap shirt struggling to contain the change in both structure and hair as thick fur sprouts around the rest of his neck, blossoming from the back to under his chin, encircling his chest and shoulders. His ears emerge from the top of his pompadour, longer, pointed, almost as knife-like as the fangs that push themselves from his mouth. Scales coat his hands and arms, dark ones dotting the space from his nose to his forehead. While his single horn lengthens, it remains the only one he has, the asymmetrical feature no longer hidden by his hair.
There's an audible crack as his feet elongate, forcing him onto his front pads; he can't help but notice the relief as he changes his stance to match, as though his feet are supposed to be liked this. His tail, thankfully, undergoes not a single change - it's apparently as changed as it's going to get, and for that, he's privately grateful.
He remains standing still once the Shift is finished, his eyes lodged on the ground; he can't bring himself to look at Gale, and for a moment, doesn't want Gale to see him like this.
"Just—"
He hates his his voice sounds like this - rougher, deeper, less like his own.
"Just don't look at me, okay?"
It's a small ask, given they're going somewhere together to spend the night, right?
no subject
"No," Gale says. He might ordinarily try to persuade him with soft, soothing words, but instead he moves around to the front of Pom, gripping his forearms. "If it bothers you, I can make you look like you were before with an illusion spell. I've done it often enough around Karteria when I don't want the locals staring at me. I would understand. But..." He dips his head until he can make Pom meet his gaze. "You don't have to. I don't think you should. There's no reason to be ashamed, there's nothing wrong with you. Now, do you need help walking? I've got you."
no subject
Letting his clawed hands curl on Gale's, he shakes his head in reply. "I'll be okay." If it's anything like the last time Gale cast an illusion on him, he'll still feel wrong, which is almost worse than others seeing how wrong he is. He remembers his manners: "I appreciate it, though."
He will keep Gale's hand in his as they walk, as he is a little unsteady on his feet, top-heavier than he's used to being. The tail helps with balance, as much as he doesn't want to admit it. He lets Gale have his hand back just long enough to retie his wrap shirt in an attempt to tuck some of the extra fur in.
"I'm starting to think my changes got stuck somewhere for a while after that incident in the woods. Some folks are barely recognizable, while I've been able to pass as mostly human, so long as I keep my tail tucked up. I... get the distinct feeling those days might be over soon."
no subject
"Certain things seem to make the changes happen faster," Gale says. His month spent sleeping in the woods had been the first thing to hasten his corruption. His dangerous experiments had been the second. "I don't pass as just human anymore either. We'll go through it together."
The employee that greets them to check them in is as pleasant and nonplussed about their corruption as all the other Kelesians, wishing them a pleasant stay and giving them their room key. It isn't difficult to locate their room, but as soon as Gale opens the door, cold air rakes it's claws across his senses.
no subject
"Well... least there's a hot spring."
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw: self-harm
cw: self-harm
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)