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xp_logs2023-10-18 01:32 pm
xp_catseye) wrote in xp_logs2023-10-18 01:32 pm
Entry tags:
Sharon and Kevin: Work-Study Program
At Felicia's suggestion, Sharon seeks out potential tutelage from the mansion's other shapeshifter. The ensuing negotiations become a game of cat and also-cat.
Sharon typically did not wait to be introduced to people. If she found them interesting the interaction would happen regardless of whether they wanted it or not. This one, though, was different. This audience had been arranged by Felicia. The man clearly had Felicia's respect; Sharon was determined not to be an embarrassment to her.
Concern that her actions might reflect poorly on another was a novel emotion. After trying it out for a little while, the young mutant had decided she would have preferred to go back to her old familiar ones.
Sharon thought back to what she'd been told. Don't pretend to be stupid. A little sass is fine, but don't disrespect him. And be confident. In short, act human -- with just a little cat for flare.
The girl smoothed down the front of her yellow sundress with clawed fingertips, the slight twitch of her tail the only outward sign of her nerves.
"I am Sharon Smith," she said. '"Was told you are the one with whom to discuss shapeshifting."
Kevin kinked down one part of his paper, looking at her from his comfortable leather seat in the lounge. She was obviously uncomfortable in her dress, having issues with an in between state as a cat (as he'd read) and a person. "I could be." He said, slowly. "Why don't you have a seat? Get comfortable."
Warily, Sharon padded over to the chair opposite him. She sat down with her bare feet tucked beneath her, her long tail curling from beneath the hem of her dress to wrap around her knees. First trial cleared -- that is, not being immediately ejected from his presence -- Sharon forged on.
"Felicia Hardy has told me of you. As I understand you are an anthromorph. Human-to-human. This is correct?"
"My name is Kevin." He poured a little more from his shaker into his martini glass and took a sip. "That is correct."
"I am an ailuromorph. Have never encountered another shapeshifter. Wish to ask questions, if this is permissible."
"Fair enough. Although, my shapeshifting is limited to mostly human forms." Kevin said. "Would you like a drink?"
Sharon sniffed. "It is alcoholic? No thank you. My constitution is very sensitive. Would quite ruin the ambiance." She kneaded her hands against her knees thoughtfully. The man wasn't making much eye contact, which was actually quite reassuring. Direct eye contact was aggressive. She regarded him curiously. "Questions are primarily experiential. For example, I have been able to shapeshift always. Congenital ability. Is this true for you also?"
"No. I'm the product of what is called a latent traumatic manifestation. Prior to that, my powers were extremely limited; a lack of aging, a few minor tricks." Kevin said, taking a sip from his glass. Shapeshifter or not, he was good at body language, and for all her cat-like nature, Sharon's was still readable. So he maintained his casual tone, still reading his paper.
The young woman nodded. "Yes. Have heard you are older than you appear. Mutants were not so common then. Circumstances of manifestation were what? Emotional extremity? Physical trauma?"
"Violent death. And then a decade trapped at the bottom of a lake." Kevin said. "Like the joke goes, on the whole, I'd have rather had the chicken."
"Chickens here are more trouble than they are worth," Sharon said automatically. The tip of her tail flicked intently as she leaned forward. "Massive physical trauma as catalyst. This is interesting. And underwater. How did you survive? Adapt for environment, gills and so forth?"
"I was dead most of the time. And encased in chicken-wire. Every so often I'd regain consciousness long enough to thrash about for a few moments before I'd drown again. Eventually enough of my body rotted and floated free to the surface." He said it idly, like he was explaining the circumstances of his last parking ticket. "Accessed enough oxygen and sunlight for the main mass to break free and reform at the surface. Mind took the better part of three years to finally recover and remember who I am."
Sharon crouched over her knees, like a child reacting to an exceptionally interesting section of a campfire story. "So you can survive through process similar to photosynthesis?" she guessed, intrigued. "Through your own means, or through process such as kleptoplasty? Body consumed algae akin to sea slug, maybe, and incorporated chloroplasts into own cellular structures? But process is not so efficient for mammals, so decade of torpor before energy threshold of full recovery is met -- yes, is possible, maybe."
Then, aware that a man discussing his own grisly murder and subsequent resurrections probably required at least a little comment on her part, Sharon remembered herself and added, "Unpleasant also, probably."
"Yes and no. As it was explained to me, the process is internally driven. It needs a large enough charge to activate enough cellular mass in order to initiate the full extent of replication." Kevin said with a shrug. "I apparently violate a couple of laws related to energy and mass equivalence."
"Me also," Sharon said, excited. She climbed out of the chair and spread her arms. "Can add mass, and also shed it. Adding is more difficult, but easy to return from. Shedding is easier, but harder to restore. Usually is not a problem, but must be well-nourished. Some caloric component also. Longer I have shed mass and more time spent in adverse environments, harder it is to re-acquire enough physical resources to restore. Smaller digestive track is not well-suited to it. Found I became stuck. Even now I am still recovering."
The girl dropped into a crouch, and her skin flowed. A moment later a hybrid cat-creature the equivalent size of a six-foot human woman stood before Kevin.
"Mass-to-mass is easiest," Sharon explained. One furred, humanoid hand plucked at the strap of her sundress before a thought occurred to her. "Was impolite? Still unsure of etiquette. Seems to be some discomfort when I am seen reorganizing my own skeleton."
Kevin once against kinked the edge of his paper down and gave her a long look. "I'm relatively certain that I'm the very last person in this mansion that you can make uncomfortable." He said, utterly devoid of the kinds of tells and ticks that other people displayed. "I only run into the calorie issue if I forcibly lose mass, like a limb or organs removed. Which I don't recommend, by the way."
"Shall take this under advisement." Kevin's lack of expression didn't bother her, but the longer she spent in his presence the more something else was becoming noticeable. Sharon gazed up at him appraisingly.
"You will--" she caught herself and corrected, "will you show how you change, please? Even if only a little. Eager to see how it is accomplished by others. To compare technique."
"Sure." Kevin blinked and then with a kind of strange blur, Sharon was looking back at her own face. The morphing was so fast that it was almost impossible to properly track.
Sharon tried to move in for a better look and immediately caught a clawed paw in the hem of her sundress. Undeterred, she rearranged her shape into something more conveniently bipedal and scooted closer to his chair. Her neck craned this way and that, as if she was looking for a hidden seam in the flesh.
"So fast," she breathed in fascination. "Know of machinery in cephalopods that allows for rapid change of color. Chromatophores, iridophores, leucophores. Neurosignals dictate when these expand and contract. Size and shape of structure controls how much light is refracted from various pigments. But this is pigmentation only. Does not explain changes to anatomy. Organs similar to papillae, maybe, where surface texture changes when structures relax or contract? Attendant musculature must be complex. Ability to control it also. Is thought that octopi are able to achieve minute control because brain is decentralized, distributed through separate nodes in the body. Yours also, maybe."
Automatically, Sharon started to reach out a hand to pat at Kevin's mirrored cheek, then remembered herself just in time.
"Apologize. New information is exciting. Am still learning boundaries." She added, matter-of-factly, "I was homeschooled."
"I went into the Army instead. Almost the same thing." His voice was also now replicating hers. "This is just a surface morph. With DNA, I can replicate all the details. Fingerprints, blood, genetic samples."
"All details," Sharon mused. She edged back, granting him an extremely rare gift: personal space. She continued to watch him with her unblinking yellow eyes. "Your form from before. Features are really so rugged and symmetrical, or this is only to impress?"
"Pretty close to my original puss." He said and shifted back with the same speed. "A few minor touch ups; removed a couple of scars, tattoos, touched up some bad dental work. But if you dig up my old photos, you'll see mostly the same guy."
"Eminently pragmatic," Sharon said with approval from her spot on the carpet. Still, her eyes remained fixed on his face. "But is strange. Appear human, yet you smell only of the clothes you wear and the cigars you smoke. No smell of your own. Should not be possible, unique scents are produced by even reptiles and insects. Critical difference in underlying physical structures, maybe. Ability to survive underwater would indicate this also."
"I have total control of every cell in my body. At least, in theory. I'm told no mind can possibly comprehend that kind of control, which is why my powers work within specific limitations and systems." Kevin shook his head. "So I don't produce anything unintentionally. No sweat, lost skin cells, odor or anything else."
Sharon curled her feet beneath her yellow dress. "This extends to body language and microexpressions also? No fidgets, no twitches. Unusual."
"Some of that is a lifetime of training."
"For job that ends in chicken wire and gruesome murder?"
"Sometimes. Which reminds me, are you interested in a job that might end in chicken wire and gruesome murder? I could use your talent."
Sharon gave a smug flick of her tail. "My skills are greatly sought after. Many offers to entertain. Freelance, maybe?" She laced her fingers and stretched her hands over her head. "Would appreciate future opportunity to discuss further applications of shapeshifting, however. Have operated on instinctual level only. Do not know if it is possible to learn technique, but curious."
"I can see there being a reciprocal relationship there. I know when and where a cat, even a purple one isn't going to be questioned. In return, I can show you how I do what I do."
Forgetting her current shape, Sharon lolled onto her side and regarded Kevin from the carpet from a puddle of yellow cotton and purple hair. "If said work suits me. Yes. Agreement can be reached, maybe."
"Less picky you are, the more training is available." He said with a shark's smile. "Do we have a deal?"
The slitted yellow eyes that crinkled back at him were just as predatory.
"Deal."
Sharon typically did not wait to be introduced to people. If she found them interesting the interaction would happen regardless of whether they wanted it or not. This one, though, was different. This audience had been arranged by Felicia. The man clearly had Felicia's respect; Sharon was determined not to be an embarrassment to her.
Concern that her actions might reflect poorly on another was a novel emotion. After trying it out for a little while, the young mutant had decided she would have preferred to go back to her old familiar ones.
Sharon thought back to what she'd been told. Don't pretend to be stupid. A little sass is fine, but don't disrespect him. And be confident. In short, act human -- with just a little cat for flare.
The girl smoothed down the front of her yellow sundress with clawed fingertips, the slight twitch of her tail the only outward sign of her nerves.
"I am Sharon Smith," she said. '"Was told you are the one with whom to discuss shapeshifting."
Kevin kinked down one part of his paper, looking at her from his comfortable leather seat in the lounge. She was obviously uncomfortable in her dress, having issues with an in between state as a cat (as he'd read) and a person. "I could be." He said, slowly. "Why don't you have a seat? Get comfortable."
Warily, Sharon padded over to the chair opposite him. She sat down with her bare feet tucked beneath her, her long tail curling from beneath the hem of her dress to wrap around her knees. First trial cleared -- that is, not being immediately ejected from his presence -- Sharon forged on.
"Felicia Hardy has told me of you. As I understand you are an anthromorph. Human-to-human. This is correct?"
"My name is Kevin." He poured a little more from his shaker into his martini glass and took a sip. "That is correct."
"I am an ailuromorph. Have never encountered another shapeshifter. Wish to ask questions, if this is permissible."
"Fair enough. Although, my shapeshifting is limited to mostly human forms." Kevin said. "Would you like a drink?"
Sharon sniffed. "It is alcoholic? No thank you. My constitution is very sensitive. Would quite ruin the ambiance." She kneaded her hands against her knees thoughtfully. The man wasn't making much eye contact, which was actually quite reassuring. Direct eye contact was aggressive. She regarded him curiously. "Questions are primarily experiential. For example, I have been able to shapeshift always. Congenital ability. Is this true for you also?"
"No. I'm the product of what is called a latent traumatic manifestation. Prior to that, my powers were extremely limited; a lack of aging, a few minor tricks." Kevin said, taking a sip from his glass. Shapeshifter or not, he was good at body language, and for all her cat-like nature, Sharon's was still readable. So he maintained his casual tone, still reading his paper.
The young woman nodded. "Yes. Have heard you are older than you appear. Mutants were not so common then. Circumstances of manifestation were what? Emotional extremity? Physical trauma?"
"Violent death. And then a decade trapped at the bottom of a lake." Kevin said. "Like the joke goes, on the whole, I'd have rather had the chicken."
"Chickens here are more trouble than they are worth," Sharon said automatically. The tip of her tail flicked intently as she leaned forward. "Massive physical trauma as catalyst. This is interesting. And underwater. How did you survive? Adapt for environment, gills and so forth?"
"I was dead most of the time. And encased in chicken-wire. Every so often I'd regain consciousness long enough to thrash about for a few moments before I'd drown again. Eventually enough of my body rotted and floated free to the surface." He said it idly, like he was explaining the circumstances of his last parking ticket. "Accessed enough oxygen and sunlight for the main mass to break free and reform at the surface. Mind took the better part of three years to finally recover and remember who I am."
Sharon crouched over her knees, like a child reacting to an exceptionally interesting section of a campfire story. "So you can survive through process similar to photosynthesis?" she guessed, intrigued. "Through your own means, or through process such as kleptoplasty? Body consumed algae akin to sea slug, maybe, and incorporated chloroplasts into own cellular structures? But process is not so efficient for mammals, so decade of torpor before energy threshold of full recovery is met -- yes, is possible, maybe."
Then, aware that a man discussing his own grisly murder and subsequent resurrections probably required at least a little comment on her part, Sharon remembered herself and added, "Unpleasant also, probably."
"Yes and no. As it was explained to me, the process is internally driven. It needs a large enough charge to activate enough cellular mass in order to initiate the full extent of replication." Kevin said with a shrug. "I apparently violate a couple of laws related to energy and mass equivalence."
"Me also," Sharon said, excited. She climbed out of the chair and spread her arms. "Can add mass, and also shed it. Adding is more difficult, but easy to return from. Shedding is easier, but harder to restore. Usually is not a problem, but must be well-nourished. Some caloric component also. Longer I have shed mass and more time spent in adverse environments, harder it is to re-acquire enough physical resources to restore. Smaller digestive track is not well-suited to it. Found I became stuck. Even now I am still recovering."
The girl dropped into a crouch, and her skin flowed. A moment later a hybrid cat-creature the equivalent size of a six-foot human woman stood before Kevin.
"Mass-to-mass is easiest," Sharon explained. One furred, humanoid hand plucked at the strap of her sundress before a thought occurred to her. "Was impolite? Still unsure of etiquette. Seems to be some discomfort when I am seen reorganizing my own skeleton."
Kevin once against kinked the edge of his paper down and gave her a long look. "I'm relatively certain that I'm the very last person in this mansion that you can make uncomfortable." He said, utterly devoid of the kinds of tells and ticks that other people displayed. "I only run into the calorie issue if I forcibly lose mass, like a limb or organs removed. Which I don't recommend, by the way."
"Shall take this under advisement." Kevin's lack of expression didn't bother her, but the longer she spent in his presence the more something else was becoming noticeable. Sharon gazed up at him appraisingly.
"You will--" she caught herself and corrected, "will you show how you change, please? Even if only a little. Eager to see how it is accomplished by others. To compare technique."
"Sure." Kevin blinked and then with a kind of strange blur, Sharon was looking back at her own face. The morphing was so fast that it was almost impossible to properly track.
Sharon tried to move in for a better look and immediately caught a clawed paw in the hem of her sundress. Undeterred, she rearranged her shape into something more conveniently bipedal and scooted closer to his chair. Her neck craned this way and that, as if she was looking for a hidden seam in the flesh.
"So fast," she breathed in fascination. "Know of machinery in cephalopods that allows for rapid change of color. Chromatophores, iridophores, leucophores. Neurosignals dictate when these expand and contract. Size and shape of structure controls how much light is refracted from various pigments. But this is pigmentation only. Does not explain changes to anatomy. Organs similar to papillae, maybe, where surface texture changes when structures relax or contract? Attendant musculature must be complex. Ability to control it also. Is thought that octopi are able to achieve minute control because brain is decentralized, distributed through separate nodes in the body. Yours also, maybe."
Automatically, Sharon started to reach out a hand to pat at Kevin's mirrored cheek, then remembered herself just in time.
"Apologize. New information is exciting. Am still learning boundaries." She added, matter-of-factly, "I was homeschooled."
"I went into the Army instead. Almost the same thing." His voice was also now replicating hers. "This is just a surface morph. With DNA, I can replicate all the details. Fingerprints, blood, genetic samples."
"All details," Sharon mused. She edged back, granting him an extremely rare gift: personal space. She continued to watch him with her unblinking yellow eyes. "Your form from before. Features are really so rugged and symmetrical, or this is only to impress?"
"Pretty close to my original puss." He said and shifted back with the same speed. "A few minor touch ups; removed a couple of scars, tattoos, touched up some bad dental work. But if you dig up my old photos, you'll see mostly the same guy."
"Eminently pragmatic," Sharon said with approval from her spot on the carpet. Still, her eyes remained fixed on his face. "But is strange. Appear human, yet you smell only of the clothes you wear and the cigars you smoke. No smell of your own. Should not be possible, unique scents are produced by even reptiles and insects. Critical difference in underlying physical structures, maybe. Ability to survive underwater would indicate this also."
"I have total control of every cell in my body. At least, in theory. I'm told no mind can possibly comprehend that kind of control, which is why my powers work within specific limitations and systems." Kevin shook his head. "So I don't produce anything unintentionally. No sweat, lost skin cells, odor or anything else."
Sharon curled her feet beneath her yellow dress. "This extends to body language and microexpressions also? No fidgets, no twitches. Unusual."
"Some of that is a lifetime of training."
"For job that ends in chicken wire and gruesome murder?"
"Sometimes. Which reminds me, are you interested in a job that might end in chicken wire and gruesome murder? I could use your talent."
Sharon gave a smug flick of her tail. "My skills are greatly sought after. Many offers to entertain. Freelance, maybe?" She laced her fingers and stretched her hands over her head. "Would appreciate future opportunity to discuss further applications of shapeshifting, however. Have operated on instinctual level only. Do not know if it is possible to learn technique, but curious."
"I can see there being a reciprocal relationship there. I know when and where a cat, even a purple one isn't going to be questioned. In return, I can show you how I do what I do."
Forgetting her current shape, Sharon lolled onto her side and regarded Kevin from the carpet from a puddle of yellow cotton and purple hair. "If said work suits me. Yes. Agreement can be reached, maybe."
"Less picky you are, the more training is available." He said with a shark's smile. "Do we have a deal?"
The slitted yellow eyes that crinkled back at him were just as predatory.
"Deal."
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