[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.
Pom rubs the back of his neck. He's slept in tight spaces before, so the single bed doesn't cause him much discomfort, even if he will be sharing it. While an intensely private person when it comes to himself, Pom has plenty of experience with public bathing under his belt. He looks from said bed to the bath and back, wondering how about uncomfortable Gale will be, watching him set his satchel aside.
"Somehow, I don't think we're getting a bath like this in any other room." He meanders into the bathroom: the basin set into the floor reminds him of the springs in Seliana, their waters heated by a combination of geothermal energy and the Steamworks. They were always a good place for hunters to wind down in their evening hours after a long hunt, and while Pom enjoys the commodity of having a daily shower in Karteria, he misses the ease the springs brought his muscles. He tests one of the spigots, and finds the water already warm, inviting.
He turns it off, setting his sights on Gale again. "If you wanna change rooms, we can, but I ain't opposed to this. Kind of reminds me of home, actually."
"They we'll stay," Gale says without hesitation, wanting Pom to be happy.
He's certain that if the room reminded him of Waterdeep, Pom would gladly
stay even if it was a little uncomfortable. Besides, his home city has
harsh winters, so it's not like he's not used to the cold.
"We'll make the best of it. Do you want to try out the hot spring?" As soon
as he's said it he realizes that it's not clear whether he's offering to
let Pom go first, or suggesting that they try it out together.
Embarrassment slaps color into his cheeks, even though they've seen each
other naked multiple times by now. The owlbear loves the idea, supplying
carnal thoughts that Gale shakes his head to try to dismiss. "Ah, I mean,
well... I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable."
That gets a smile from him, one wider than he'd normally wear; maybe it's the fact his mouth can stretch wider now, or maybe Gale's suggestion tickles him that much.
"Pretty sure I'm not the one turnin' red at the idea," he replies smoothly. Sharing a bed with Gale when he's uncertain of how the man feels about him outside of a nightmare brought about by pure torment? That's a bit embarrassing for Pom, but nothing he can't handle. He's spent a lot of time burying his feelings rather than confronting or understanding them. His current form - several inches taller, a whole lot hairier, and barely able to fit into his clothing? Definitely embarrassing, and he wouldn't recommend it, especially in front of the man he is utterly infatuated with. His looks are so much of who he is, who he tries to be - so far from who he doesn't want to be, and this bestial shape only reminds him of what's beneath his skin.
But the idea of sharing a hot bath with his roommate, even if he is said object of infatuation? That's almost normal by comparison. Practically routine.
"You can keep your clothes on, if it'd make you feel better. We usually did in Seliana. Wouldn't be the first time we've seen each other naked, but hey, maybe there's something new to see now that I look like this."
Pom's comments make Gale turn a shade redder, though he scoffs as if it's a
ridiculous thing to say.
"If we keep them on, they'll be soaked when we get out, might even freeze."
That's not a problem he couldn't handle as a wizard, but it is an
inconvenience.
"We'll keep our undergarments on," he decides. "Though, there may I'm have
be sometime new to see... Oh me, I mean." He shifts uncomfortably.
"Something felt different when we crossed into the city. Could you... Look
for me? Like you did at the beginning?"
Worry draws around him, settling into his brow. "Anything you need. Come on."
He sets his own bag down and turns the water back on, letting it run. The basin itself is as deep as the tubs in their row house, and wide enough to fill most of the room - it's plenty big for the two of them, but will take some time to fill. At least the steam will warm the air.
He pads back toward Gale, balancing on his changed feet while he waits for him to remove his clothing. "What feels different? You hurting still?"
Gale slides out of his jacket first, seeing it aside while he explains.
"No. Well, yes, I am, but that's not what I'm concerned about." He tips his
hood back, and at first, it's easy to miss the difference. Gale already had
owlish plumicorns on top of his head, but those have been replaced with
soft brown cat ears. Even Gale doesn't seem to notice that change.
"I felt... Something new grow in." He reaches for the ties to his wrap
shirt but hesitates. He doesn't even change in front of Tara. Then again,
Pom has seen him naked before. This isn't romantic or sexual anyway.
Dismissing his hesitancy like a spell he's finished with, he strips out of
his shirt. Now the changes his corruption causes are far more apparent.
Those lines creeping out from the circle on his chest crawl over most of
his body like vines swallowing an abandoned building.
"My back," Gale says, turning so Pom can see. A pair of wings, no bigger
than a goose's, lay folded up against his back
Pom waits politely for Gale to undress, too concerned to even think about that moment of hesitation. His eyes trace the way the Corruption has spread through Gale, following the lines that trail from the mark on his chest down to the bandages on his limbs, as well as up his neck toward his eye. The feathers may hide some of the signs, but they're still there for the scrutinizing eye - or at least one relatively familiar with what Gale used to look like.
The wizard turns for him, and the change on his back is far more obvious. Pom steps closer, reaching a hand out and carefully slipping it between the secondary and primary feathers. Some of the pinions aren't yet fully matured, soft down brushing him between the plumage.
"You got wings back here," he murmurs. Gale didn't have wings before - Pom examined him in his full Shift, and he'd have surely noticed.
That leaves the question of where they came from unasked, but Pom has his theories.
Gale sucks in a breath, not really surprised, but perhaps sensitive to
touch in these newly formed appendages. When he shifts, the wings flutter a
little, but the movement isn't a conscious one yet.
"Owlbears don't have wings. Owls do, they're birds, not as far as I know,
no variety of owlbear has wings," he states. Goosebumps crawl over his bare
flesh, the steam not yet enough to completely warm the air.
Continuing his examination, Pom stretches one wing carefully, feeling the musculature. It sure feels as though it belongs there, and moves like it, too. He remembers when his tail suddenly remained after Shifting, and wonders if it's a similar situation. He looks back to Gale to keep talking, only for his gaze to land on the back of the other man's head for a moment too long.
With the wing still in one hand, he reaches to brush a couple of fingers against what he is certain had once been feathers in Gale's hair, tips where they came to a point almost like ears. There's fur there now, solid skin.
Gale shivers again, but this time it has less to do with the temperature.
That 'huh' makes him slap a hand to his head, feeling for the cause of it.
It isn't difficult to find. "Ears?" He blurts. "Owlbears certainly don't
have ears like this." There's a touch of rising panic in his voice at the
thought that his body is undergoing more changes, becoming uglier, more
monstrous. He reaches over his shoulder, grabbing and feeling his own wings
roughly, like their appearance is a further offense. It occurs to him that
it wouldn't be difficult to rip them off.
Though he removes his hand as Gale slaps at his new ears, Pom recognizes the shift in his tone, the way he grabs at his wings. He's been there himself a number of times, lying awake at night, clawing at his own scales along his sides, trying to stay human by forcibly removing that which isn't. It never helps.
"Hey. Hey!"
He lets go of the wing and steps in front of Gale, taking his hands and pulling them away. "You gotta be careful. You might break the feathers."
But he knows that's not what Gale is concerned about, so he tries again after a beat.
"It's probably the city, you know? It does weird stuff to us Augmented. I mean, look at me."
"Break the feathers," Gale repeats with scorn, though not for Pom. "What does it matter? They're not good for anything." He can't see them well over his shoulder, but that tells him that they're small, nowhere near big enough for even gliding. Stupid useless wings. Eli had helped him cut off his useless extra digits, why not be rid of these as well?
"Kelesis does do weird things to us..." He doesnt mention that he thinks what it does is show them their futures their inevitable selves. "But at least it doesn't torture us."
He looks from the filling tub to the bandages that can't stay on his hands if he's going to get in. Sighing, he decides that they may as well have nothing hidden between them and starts to unwrap them. His arms are a horror. Those black lines creep down them from his chest, particularly the left one. His hands are gnarled with scar tissue from fingers removed and regrown again and again and again. The putrid black boils that mark arcane radiation circle the orb on his chest like stars in a spiral galaxy, radiating out and over his arms. He curls his lip in disgust at everything he's been hiding. "Guess wings and ears aren't so bad in comparison, hm?"
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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.]
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[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.]
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[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."
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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.
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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?
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"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."
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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."
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"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.
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"Well... least there's a hot spring."
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"Somehow, I don't think we're getting a bath like this in any other room." He meanders into the bathroom: the basin set into the floor reminds him of the springs in Seliana, their waters heated by a combination of geothermal energy and the Steamworks. They were always a good place for hunters to wind down in their evening hours after a long hunt, and while Pom enjoys the commodity of having a daily shower in Karteria, he misses the ease the springs brought his muscles. He tests one of the spigots, and finds the water already warm, inviting.
He turns it off, setting his sights on Gale again. "If you wanna change rooms, we can, but I ain't opposed to this. Kind of reminds me of home, actually."
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"They we'll stay," Gale says without hesitation, wanting Pom to be happy. He's certain that if the room reminded him of Waterdeep, Pom would gladly stay even if it was a little uncomfortable. Besides, his home city has harsh winters, so it's not like he's not used to the cold.
"We'll make the best of it. Do you want to try out the hot spring?" As soon as he's said it he realizes that it's not clear whether he's offering to let Pom go first, or suggesting that they try it out together. Embarrassment slaps color into his cheeks, even though they've seen each other naked multiple times by now. The owlbear loves the idea, supplying carnal thoughts that Gale shakes his head to try to dismiss. "Ah, I mean, well... I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable."
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"Pretty sure I'm not the one turnin' red at the idea," he replies smoothly. Sharing a bed with Gale when he's uncertain of how the man feels about him outside of a nightmare brought about by pure torment? That's a bit embarrassing for Pom, but nothing he can't handle. He's spent a lot of time burying his feelings rather than confronting or understanding them. His current form - several inches taller, a whole lot hairier, and barely able to fit into his clothing? Definitely embarrassing, and he wouldn't recommend it, especially in front of the man he is utterly infatuated with. His looks are so much of who he is, who he tries to be - so far from who he doesn't want to be, and this bestial shape only reminds him of what's beneath his skin.
But the idea of sharing a hot bath with his roommate, even if he is said object of infatuation? That's almost normal by comparison. Practically routine.
"You can keep your clothes on, if it'd make you feel better. We usually did in Seliana. Wouldn't be the first time we've seen each other naked, but hey, maybe there's something new to see now that I look like this."
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Pom's comments make Gale turn a shade redder, though he scoffs as if it's a ridiculous thing to say.
"If we keep them on, they'll be soaked when we get out, might even freeze." That's not a problem he couldn't handle as a wizard, but it is an inconvenience.
"We'll keep our undergarments on," he decides. "Though, there may I'm have be sometime new to see... Oh me, I mean." He shifts uncomfortably. "Something felt different when we crossed into the city. Could you... Look for me? Like you did at the beginning?"
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He sets his own bag down and turns the water back on, letting it run. The basin itself is as deep as the tubs in their row house, and wide enough to fill most of the room - it's plenty big for the two of them, but will take some time to fill. At least the steam will warm the air.
He pads back toward Gale, balancing on his changed feet while he waits for him to remove his clothing. "What feels different? You hurting still?"
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Gale slides out of his jacket first, seeing it aside while he explains. "No. Well, yes, I am, but that's not what I'm concerned about." He tips his hood back, and at first, it's easy to miss the difference. Gale already had owlish plumicorns on top of his head, but those have been replaced with soft brown cat ears. Even Gale doesn't seem to notice that change.
"I felt... Something new grow in." He reaches for the ties to his wrap shirt but hesitates. He doesn't even change in front of Tara. Then again, Pom has seen him naked before. This isn't romantic or sexual anyway. Dismissing his hesitancy like a spell he's finished with, he strips out of his shirt. Now the changes his corruption causes are far more apparent. Those lines creeping out from the circle on his chest crawl over most of his body like vines swallowing an abandoned building.
"My back," Gale says, turning so Pom can see. A pair of wings, no bigger than a goose's, lay folded up against his back
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The wizard turns for him, and the change on his back is far more obvious. Pom steps closer, reaching a hand out and carefully slipping it between the secondary and primary feathers. Some of the pinions aren't yet fully matured, soft down brushing him between the plumage.
"You got wings back here," he murmurs. Gale didn't have wings before - Pom examined him in his full Shift, and he'd have surely noticed.
That leaves the question of where they came from unasked, but Pom has his theories.
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Gale sucks in a breath, not really surprised, but perhaps sensitive to touch in these newly formed appendages. When he shifts, the wings flutter a little, but the movement isn't a conscious one yet.
"Owlbears don't have wings. Owls do, they're birds, not as far as I know, no variety of owlbear has wings," he states. Goosebumps crawl over his bare flesh, the steam not yet enough to completely warm the air.
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Continuing his examination, Pom stretches one wing carefully, feeling the musculature. It sure feels as though it belongs there, and moves like it, too. He remembers when his tail suddenly remained after Shifting, and wonders if it's a similar situation. He looks back to Gale to keep talking, only for his gaze to land on the back of the other man's head for a moment too long.
With the wing still in one hand, he reaches to brush a couple of fingers against what he is certain had once been feathers in Gale's hair, tips where they came to a point almost like ears. There's fur there now, solid skin.
"Huh."
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Gale shivers again, but this time it has less to do with the temperature. That 'huh' makes him slap a hand to his head, feeling for the cause of it. It isn't difficult to find. "Ears?" He blurts. "Owlbears certainly don't have ears like this." There's a touch of rising panic in his voice at the thought that his body is undergoing more changes, becoming uglier, more monstrous. He reaches over his shoulder, grabbing and feeling his own wings roughly, like their appearance is a further offense. It occurs to him that it wouldn't be difficult to rip them off.
cw: self-harm
"Hey. Hey!"
He lets go of the wing and steps in front of Gale, taking his hands and pulling them away. "You gotta be careful. You might break the feathers."
But he knows that's not what Gale is concerned about, so he tries again after a beat.
"It's probably the city, you know? It does weird stuff to us Augmented. I mean, look at me."
cw: self-harm
"Kelesis does do weird things to us..." He doesnt mention that he thinks what it does is show them their futures their inevitable selves. "But at least it doesn't torture us."
He looks from the filling tub to the bandages that can't stay on his hands if he's going to get in. Sighing, he decides that they may as well have nothing hidden between them and starts to unwrap them. His arms are a horror. Those black lines creep down them from his chest, particularly the left one. His hands are gnarled with scar tissue from fingers removed and regrown again and again and again. The putrid black boils that mark arcane radiation circle the orb on his chest like stars in a spiral galaxy, radiating out and over his arms. He curls his lip in disgust at everything he's been hiding. "Guess wings and ears aren't so bad in comparison, hm?"
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