Haller & April | Quarantine, Day Zero
Nov. 8th, 2023 10:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsHaller's long night continues as he checks up on April. Communication is scarce, but he manages to get something useful out of it anyway – the bracelet April was handed at the riot.
The mansion had encountered a lot of unusual situations over the years, and the Medlab had been periodically updated to deal with them. Poisons, pathogens, mystery medical conditions. Now, in addition to the private rooms that had been there since its inception, there were actual isolation rooms. This one was a newly outfitted AIIR with a bed, en suite bathroom, and its own devoted ventilation system. It was as comfortable as circumstances allowed. He'd been under observation enough times in his life to know that probably wasn't much solace to the room's only occupant.
Haller stepped up to the observation window and pressed the intercom button.
"April?"
April looked up from the game of rock, paper, tentacles she was playing at the click of the intercom, wide white eyes narrowing and then relaxing as she heard Haller's voice. Her claws waved awkwardly in his direction, and a bit of bright thread caught her attention.
Her tendrils were less restrained, wiggling towards his voice in a way that could only be described as pleased or happy.
"F R E E?" It was sloppy and slow, trying to work two tendrils in tandem for spelling. But she managed it. The question marks was easier, tendrils along her shoulders all curling into the lazy curve like strange shoulder armor.
Haller shook his head. "Not yet," he replied, hoping he was correctly interpreting her question. "They still haven't figured out how contagious this is. The others are still in quarantine, too."
He'd known this form was possible for her, of course, but it was still jarring to see it in person. Her eyes were especially unnerving. Without pupils to indicate where her attention was focused it was as if he was being fixed by two searchlights. She had a mouth, but no lips, no nose, no eyebrows -- none of the facial features that would have helped him read her expressions. Any flex of muscle that might have shown was lost in the inky blue-black of the symbiote skin.
This probably wasn't what April had meant when she'd told him she wanted to find a way to globalize her shapeshifting.
The tendrils drooped. April missed Boris. She was sure Illyana was taking good care of him, but she wanted to be in her room with her stuff and her dog and not be a scary-possibly-contagious monster in an isolated room. Communicating was almost impossible right now, and her claws didn't lend well to many activities. Focusing on trying to change back had been the only thing she could do, and it was slow going.
She studied her hands for a few minutes, focusing on just the claws. Maybe if she could get those to retreat, she could at least communicate. Get something with a straw to eat. Her stomach rumbled at the idea. I need to be able to communicate, she chanted to herself, focusing on reducing the size and sharpness. Little steps. She barely noticed it at first, but slowly, infinitesimally, they started to shrink, dulling into rounded points but still glossy black and blue as they became something resembling fingernails instead. Longer than she wore them, but manageable.
April clapped excitedly, then got off the bed and moved closer to the window so she could wiggle her fingers at Haller.
"What is it?" Haller paused. "Wait, let me try telepathy . . . I've already used the switchboard with you, maybe that will make a difference."
April lengthened her nails back into long claws, then shrank them back down. She tapped just above her eyes and gave him a thumbs up, white eyes locked on his through the window.
The X-Man nodded. "All right. Let me see what we're working with."
But when he extended his mind he discovered the result was -- not much. It wasn't a wall so much as static. The thought patterns seemed to fluctuate between comprehensible and alien, tuning in and out like an old television. Snatches of images and fragments of thought fuzzed and overlapped. He could feel thoughts just below the surface, but something about this form meant they were processing in a language he couldn't decipher.
Reluctantly, Haller withdrew. It had been a longshot to think he'd have a result any different than Jean, but it had been worth a try.
"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I can't get through. I'll see if we can find you a stylus, or a character board or something . . . I might be able to borrow one from the community center."
April shrugged. She hadn't expected much, and she wouldn't want him to be forced to hang out down here on the off chance she needed something.
The thread around her wrist caught her attention again, and she shook her hand. When it didn't come loose, she plucked at it and promptly let out an annoyed hissing growl as it stayed stuck. She shook her hand again, harder. The rest of her clothes were... well, wherever her stuff went in the form, so why was this thing sticking out? She didn't like it.
Haller frowned. "Are you all right?" he asked. He wasn't sure what she was pulling at -- initially he'd assumed it was a tendril, or possibly a piece of tissue they hadn't been able to stitch. But now that he looked closer he could see the color and texture weren't right.
April shook her head, sticking her wrist closer to the window. A tendril followed, wrapping loosely just above the bright bit of string and then falling to her side. Charades was not the best form of communication.
The psi looked at her wrist, then flicked his eyes across the rest of her body. As far as he could tell there were no other stray threads or odd lumps to indicate the change had simply covered her clothing -- the slick black substance was flush with her skin, like a bodysuit.
"Does your symbiote form usually subsume what you're wearing?" he asked. "That's strange. I could--" he almost said 'peel your skin away so you can remove it' and wasn't sure what was more horrifying: the fact the thought had occurred to him, or the fact that, in his current state, he could probably have done it. He settled for, "Telekinetically snap it off for you."
April nodded again, patting her arms down her sides and doing a slow spin, then held her wrist back up to the window, eyes impossibly wider as she attempted Boris' "puppy eyes no. 3: pleading" on the older man. She didn't think it was nearly as effective in this form.
They weren't the sort of eyes that would've gotten a puppy removed from the petshop window, but they did have they did communicate the gist of it. "Okay. Hold still."
It wasn't really necessary to snap the thing off. He had the control right now. He settled his mind as close to her skin as possible and began to work. It was easy to feel the difference between living flesh and dead fiber; all he had to do was weaken the bonds until they disintegrated. The cord parted from April's wrist painlessly. Haller kept it at eye-level on the other side of the glass so he could get a better look.
"A bracelet?" he guessed, noticing a bead twinned around the cord. "Strange. Wonder why it wasn't absorbed. Maybe the tie wasn't close enough to your body?"
She shrugged, then tapped her waist, then shrugged again. But her belt was attached to her jeans, and her boots to her feet... thinking about it too hard made her grumpy with missing Forge and his inexplicable math in everything. Maybe she could relay that the bracelet was from the riot. Her tendrils feathered together in a group, swaying back and forth to mimic a crowd, then a separated one pushed the bracelet towards the crowd before blending into the mass. A few seconds later, they all flipped out of the way in an effort to convey the explosion.
He wasn't sure what the tap on her waist had meant, but at least he could interpret 'crowd' and 'riot'. "You got it at the rally?" he asked, glancing back to her huge white eyes. "Before the explosion?"
A nod, and a pointy thumbs up from both hands. Standing still was boring. She glanced behind herself then up at the ceiling. Crouch, jump, web, flip. A few seconds later she was dangling upside down from the ceiling, giving Haller a toothy smile.
Haller gave her an answering half-smile. "I assume that means you're bored. I'll see if I can get you a phone or laptop or something." He looked back at the hovering fragment of bracelet. He remembered Jean saying something about bagging everything the X-Men in attendance had been wearing for analysis, and this probably counted. "I'll be right back," he said, "I just need to get something to put that in. Anything else? Something to eat?"
April's stomach rumbled, and the web she was attached to swayed as she nodded vigorously. Then she paused, trying to figure out the mechanics of eating in this form. Maybe with a straw. A very, very strong one. Hm. Yes. Maybe. Another round of charades. She made a cup shape with several tendrils, one sticking out of the top like a straw. Once she was sure Haller had seen that, she flexed. Upside down, but still unmistakably a strongman pose.
Haller thought he understood. Her fangs were perfectly adapted for offensive purposes like ripping someone's throat out, but less so for mundane activities like chewing. While April didn't seem to be feeling physically ill, if this form was intended for battle it might be too specialized even to accomplish basic life functions. He found himself wondering if this shape could even accommodate a nasogastric tube. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
"Okay, we'll start with liquid options like soup and protein shakes," he said. "And then I'll look into that communication board for you."
April hopped down from her web, landing on light feet. She gave him another thumbs up and a wave, then made a book gesture with her hands before shuffling towards the bed.
The mansion had encountered a lot of unusual situations over the years, and the Medlab had been periodically updated to deal with them. Poisons, pathogens, mystery medical conditions. Now, in addition to the private rooms that had been there since its inception, there were actual isolation rooms. This one was a newly outfitted AIIR with a bed, en suite bathroom, and its own devoted ventilation system. It was as comfortable as circumstances allowed. He'd been under observation enough times in his life to know that probably wasn't much solace to the room's only occupant.
Haller stepped up to the observation window and pressed the intercom button.
"April?"
April looked up from the game of rock, paper, tentacles she was playing at the click of the intercom, wide white eyes narrowing and then relaxing as she heard Haller's voice. Her claws waved awkwardly in his direction, and a bit of bright thread caught her attention.
Her tendrils were less restrained, wiggling towards his voice in a way that could only be described as pleased or happy.
"F R E E?" It was sloppy and slow, trying to work two tendrils in tandem for spelling. But she managed it. The question marks was easier, tendrils along her shoulders all curling into the lazy curve like strange shoulder armor.
Haller shook his head. "Not yet," he replied, hoping he was correctly interpreting her question. "They still haven't figured out how contagious this is. The others are still in quarantine, too."
He'd known this form was possible for her, of course, but it was still jarring to see it in person. Her eyes were especially unnerving. Without pupils to indicate where her attention was focused it was as if he was being fixed by two searchlights. She had a mouth, but no lips, no nose, no eyebrows -- none of the facial features that would have helped him read her expressions. Any flex of muscle that might have shown was lost in the inky blue-black of the symbiote skin.
This probably wasn't what April had meant when she'd told him she wanted to find a way to globalize her shapeshifting.
The tendrils drooped. April missed Boris. She was sure Illyana was taking good care of him, but she wanted to be in her room with her stuff and her dog and not be a scary-possibly-contagious monster in an isolated room. Communicating was almost impossible right now, and her claws didn't lend well to many activities. Focusing on trying to change back had been the only thing she could do, and it was slow going.
She studied her hands for a few minutes, focusing on just the claws. Maybe if she could get those to retreat, she could at least communicate. Get something with a straw to eat. Her stomach rumbled at the idea. I need to be able to communicate, she chanted to herself, focusing on reducing the size and sharpness. Little steps. She barely noticed it at first, but slowly, infinitesimally, they started to shrink, dulling into rounded points but still glossy black and blue as they became something resembling fingernails instead. Longer than she wore them, but manageable.
April clapped excitedly, then got off the bed and moved closer to the window so she could wiggle her fingers at Haller.
"What is it?" Haller paused. "Wait, let me try telepathy . . . I've already used the switchboard with you, maybe that will make a difference."
April lengthened her nails back into long claws, then shrank them back down. She tapped just above her eyes and gave him a thumbs up, white eyes locked on his through the window.
The X-Man nodded. "All right. Let me see what we're working with."
But when he extended his mind he discovered the result was -- not much. It wasn't a wall so much as static. The thought patterns seemed to fluctuate between comprehensible and alien, tuning in and out like an old television. Snatches of images and fragments of thought fuzzed and overlapped. He could feel thoughts just below the surface, but something about this form meant they were processing in a language he couldn't decipher.
Reluctantly, Haller withdrew. It had been a longshot to think he'd have a result any different than Jean, but it had been worth a try.
"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I can't get through. I'll see if we can find you a stylus, or a character board or something . . . I might be able to borrow one from the community center."
April shrugged. She hadn't expected much, and she wouldn't want him to be forced to hang out down here on the off chance she needed something.
The thread around her wrist caught her attention again, and she shook her hand. When it didn't come loose, she plucked at it and promptly let out an annoyed hissing growl as it stayed stuck. She shook her hand again, harder. The rest of her clothes were... well, wherever her stuff went in the form, so why was this thing sticking out? She didn't like it.
Haller frowned. "Are you all right?" he asked. He wasn't sure what she was pulling at -- initially he'd assumed it was a tendril, or possibly a piece of tissue they hadn't been able to stitch. But now that he looked closer he could see the color and texture weren't right.
April shook her head, sticking her wrist closer to the window. A tendril followed, wrapping loosely just above the bright bit of string and then falling to her side. Charades was not the best form of communication.
The psi looked at her wrist, then flicked his eyes across the rest of her body. As far as he could tell there were no other stray threads or odd lumps to indicate the change had simply covered her clothing -- the slick black substance was flush with her skin, like a bodysuit.
"Does your symbiote form usually subsume what you're wearing?" he asked. "That's strange. I could--" he almost said 'peel your skin away so you can remove it' and wasn't sure what was more horrifying: the fact the thought had occurred to him, or the fact that, in his current state, he could probably have done it. He settled for, "Telekinetically snap it off for you."
April nodded again, patting her arms down her sides and doing a slow spin, then held her wrist back up to the window, eyes impossibly wider as she attempted Boris' "puppy eyes no. 3: pleading" on the older man. She didn't think it was nearly as effective in this form.
They weren't the sort of eyes that would've gotten a puppy removed from the petshop window, but they did have they did communicate the gist of it. "Okay. Hold still."
It wasn't really necessary to snap the thing off. He had the control right now. He settled his mind as close to her skin as possible and began to work. It was easy to feel the difference between living flesh and dead fiber; all he had to do was weaken the bonds until they disintegrated. The cord parted from April's wrist painlessly. Haller kept it at eye-level on the other side of the glass so he could get a better look.
"A bracelet?" he guessed, noticing a bead twinned around the cord. "Strange. Wonder why it wasn't absorbed. Maybe the tie wasn't close enough to your body?"
She shrugged, then tapped her waist, then shrugged again. But her belt was attached to her jeans, and her boots to her feet... thinking about it too hard made her grumpy with missing Forge and his inexplicable math in everything. Maybe she could relay that the bracelet was from the riot. Her tendrils feathered together in a group, swaying back and forth to mimic a crowd, then a separated one pushed the bracelet towards the crowd before blending into the mass. A few seconds later, they all flipped out of the way in an effort to convey the explosion.
He wasn't sure what the tap on her waist had meant, but at least he could interpret 'crowd' and 'riot'. "You got it at the rally?" he asked, glancing back to her huge white eyes. "Before the explosion?"
A nod, and a pointy thumbs up from both hands. Standing still was boring. She glanced behind herself then up at the ceiling. Crouch, jump, web, flip. A few seconds later she was dangling upside down from the ceiling, giving Haller a toothy smile.
Haller gave her an answering half-smile. "I assume that means you're bored. I'll see if I can get you a phone or laptop or something." He looked back at the hovering fragment of bracelet. He remembered Jean saying something about bagging everything the X-Men in attendance had been wearing for analysis, and this probably counted. "I'll be right back," he said, "I just need to get something to put that in. Anything else? Something to eat?"
April's stomach rumbled, and the web she was attached to swayed as she nodded vigorously. Then she paused, trying to figure out the mechanics of eating in this form. Maybe with a straw. A very, very strong one. Hm. Yes. Maybe. Another round of charades. She made a cup shape with several tendrils, one sticking out of the top like a straw. Once she was sure Haller had seen that, she flexed. Upside down, but still unmistakably a strongman pose.
Haller thought he understood. Her fangs were perfectly adapted for offensive purposes like ripping someone's throat out, but less so for mundane activities like chewing. While April didn't seem to be feeling physically ill, if this form was intended for battle it might be too specialized even to accomplish basic life functions. He found himself wondering if this shape could even accommodate a nasogastric tube. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
"Okay, we'll start with liquid options like soup and protein shakes," he said. "And then I'll look into that communication board for you."
April hopped down from her web, landing on light feet. She gave him another thumbs up and a wave, then made a book gesture with her hands before shuffling towards the bed.
