Skin to Skin

[Vivian]

72nd of Frost, 4622

Vivian had finished (or ditched) most of his chores for the day. After a long bath, he was settling into the library for some research. He certainly didn’t hide his appearance at all; he was wearing his ratty coat, some loose trousers, and no shoes. He stroked a hand over his belly idly, a book on Necromancy open in his hand and his eyes eagerly devouring the pages. He had taken up residence on the largest, comfiest chair he could find, and gods help the man that tried to move him from it.

Vivian was enjoying the rest and the food. He certainly felt better clean, and warm. A large fire roared in the hearth, and it was beginning to snow outside. He glanced at the window. When he wasn’t terrified of freezing to death, it was rather pretty. He smiled and toyed with the taut skin on his stomach. “You’re going to need a name, little one.” He said softly. “I wanted to pick it out with your father, but…I don’t know where he is.”

He returned to his reading. Apparently, a cocoon of dead flesh was possible. It was even possible to keep the babe warm. The problem was supplying milk and air. Air was less of a problem; stoma from restructured skin could exhale bad air and pull in good air. It would be far beyond Vivian’s skills to develop something that could feed his newborn until they escaped. He sighed and snapped the book closed, resting his forehead in his hand.

Running would mean he needed warmth, and food, and an ability to flee so soon after birth. Ascension would be near impossible for a few days after birth…or was it? He had no idea how rough the birth would be. His womb had a mind of its own.

They actually expected him to give up the babe, as though his influence was something evil or wrong. Understanding the world was evil? Forming kinship with beasts and changing one’s body was evil? The more he thought about it the more it felt wrong. He might have agreed two years ago when he had been on the streets of Daravin starving. Now? He felt more in tune with his magic than ever. Ge wanted to eventually impart that onto his child, in philosophy if not through a mark.

“Fuck!” He growled under his breath, and looked around the library at the other mages. Hakon had said he was an outsider for embracing his magic. But how far of an outsider? How much was magic hated here? He decided to test the theory.

Vivian extended a wormlike tendril from his arm and wrapped it around the book, stretching and pushing the book back into place. He thumbed along the titles, using long white filaments to slither along the embossed lettering, reading blindly. He could taste leather and old books, and the smell of must. He was beginning to like it. He found another and wrapped around it, pulling it back to his hand.

[Hakon]

Hakon found the library a bit suspect. There were Guild mages who spent all their spare time in here, reading up about arcane theory, or just whiling away the hours with novels. He found it fanciful, soft, and idle, but it was allowed by the Archon, so it wasn't up to him. If it had been, books would be relegated to what Guild Mages needed to learn how to control their magic, and no more. Let them spend the rest of their time in meditation, prayer, combat, or industry. Some of his peers, in his disdainful opinion, could benefit from spending more afternoons carding wool or splitting logs and fewer afternoons gossiping and playing games.

Still, everyone needed a book from time to time, and Hakon was no exception. He'd heard from the Brand Fellow in the guild that there was a book on the concept of the Armory relating it to martial meditation, and it sounded like something he could benefit from, so he'd come in search of it. Thinking of Brand had him switch on his Ethersight on, just for a moment, reflexively. It was something he did semi-constantly, and it was somehow satisfying, like scracthing an itch. Not so much the use of it, but the reassurance that all was right with the world and there was no unauthorized magic being practiced.

Except this time, that was not so. It was on the other side of the room, but he saw it clear as day. He strode over to Vivian, scowling, and sat down heavily across from him.

"Vivian," he said quietly but authoritatively. "Magic is not allowed outside of designated practice areas. The library is for reading and study, not -- whatever it is you're doing. Cease at once."

He saw one of the mages within earshot roll her eyes, and a few more shifted their bodies slightly so as to suggest they were not paying attention to him and Vivian. He didn't care. This was against the rules, and it was meant to be this way to keep them safe. The Scarlet Watch, if they so chose, could have Vivian come to harm for this, and they may not care about waiting for the man to give birth before doing so. He thought about explaining this, but decided against it. The fact that it was against the rules was explanation enough.

[Vivian]

Vivian placed the book in his hand, and showed Hakon the tendril. It was very similar to the body of a large marine worm, soft and muscular, with a mouth-like slit at the end . Inside, root-like filaments writhed. “My templates are as much a part of me as any organ.” Vivian explained patiently, setting his book on a side table. “You might as well ask me to stop breathing. I can’t get up quickly, and I was done with the book I was reading. I used this to get another.”

He retracted his arm, and kissed the appendage fondly. It slithered back into the flesh of his forearm, and was gone. “Make a Malformity mage restrict who he is, and he’ll go mad trying to understand himself and the things he’s seen through another’s eyes. You know what happens to us when we overstep.” Vivian said quietly. He glanced at the other mates. They certainly didn’t seem to like Hakon, but Hakon had that…aura about him. Teacher’s pet. Followed all the rules as written.

The poor sweet thing blushed at the touch of a hand. Were the situation different Vivian would have pursued him. He adored virgins. But this was neither the time nor the place. Vivian needed to escape, and Hakon might be his key out.

Vivian smiled at him reassuringly. “I’ll try to save it for when I truly need it.” He promised. “I was thinking of exercising Bara, or meditating. Would you care to come join me? Might be a bit more fun than combing through dusty old books or playing chess. Though, I’m mean at chess and I hate to be a bad houseguest.” Vivian chuckled.

[Hakon]

"Some fresh air would be nice, Hakon replied, "And I'm sure Bara would appreciate seeing you, as well. I can help you mount him, if you wish, and walk alongside to help keep you two steady. Or we could just give him some food scraps from lunch for a bit of a treat, if you prefer. It would be preferable to feeling my muscles turn to mush while I engage in flights of fancy about this preposterous rot." That last line was said to carry a bit more than was strictly necessary.

He knew his peers did not hold him in high esteem, and he did not care. The opinion of a bunch of blasphemers mattered to him as much as dewdrops to a forest fire. He would not be quashed by their mealymouthed discontent, their snide remarks and glances askance, when his only crime was insisting that the rules that kept them safe be followed.

Prior to leaving the library with Vivian, he did want to find the book the Fellow had recommended. His time with the Fellows did not come around often, and he did not want it to be suggested that he lacked diligence in his studies simply due to philosophical disagreements with many of his teachers. The section on Brand was relatively slight, and he'd already read most of the ones that had any practical application, so it didn't take long for him to find it and sign it out. Following rules had its perks, including being able to leave the library with rare materials like the books that some of his brethren coveted so much. Of course, he couldn't leave with anything too licentious or dangerous, but there had been times when he was younger when he'd sought solace in fiction, and he had been thankful for his good standing then. Why some people who were almost twice his age were interested in such things still when he had outgrown them in his teenage years, he wasn't sure, but he found it a bit pathetic.

"My apologies for the wait, Vivian. Shall we go?"

[Vivian]

Ah, so he didn’t think much of his colleagues. He also wasn’t the sit and read type. Vivian laughed and set his book down, getting up slowly from his chair. He winced, touching the small of his back and popping his neck. He was done being up the duff, for sure. He watched Hakon for a moment. There wasn’t a thing wrong with submerging oneself in fiction. This was a prison. People thrived on escapism, and it seemed not all of them were as brainwashed as Hakon.

Maybe some of these mages still remembered and cherished freedom, and didn’t see themselves as abominations. Vivian sure didn’t. He waited patiently as Hakon found his book, and glanced at the title. Interesting. What had led Hakon to embrace his magic rather than reject it? It was the one thing that gave Vivian a little hope for empathy from the other man. He was clearly a different breed.

Vivian smiled and waved off the apology, leading Hakon outside to the stables. He grabbed Bara’s bridle and clicked his tongue at his friend’s stall to get his attention. The draft mule lifted his head out of the grain bucket and swiveled a large pair of tawny ears forward. “Bara, meet Hakon. Hakon, Bara.” Vivian gestured between them.

The mule snorted in disinterest, and turned his head to go back to his grain. “Hey! Wasn’t this side of six months ago you were eating snow covered thistles off the side of the road.” Vivian snapped, and whistled sharply. This time the mule put his head over the stall, and Vivian unlatched the door to let him out. “Head down, please, I can’t climb your neck.”

He snapped his fingers. Bara lowered his head a bit so Vivian could bridle him, and the Malformist ran his hand along the mule’s neck. “There you are.” He said softly. He ran his hands along soft fur, and muscle. He could feel pent up energy, and boredom. Those strong legs needed to work. Vivian felt very much the same way. “Here.” Vivian tossed the reins to Hakon. “He’ll give you a workout keeping up with him on the ground.”

Vivian clicked his tongue, and Bara followed him out to the paddock…with Hakon or not. The mule was twenty-ish hands, and was bred to carry war wagons and the like. He wasn’t weak. Once they were out in the larger field, Vivian tossed his coat over the fence. He kicked off his trousers, and changed.

Oh, the form was one he knew well by now. He was a perfect and distinct copy of Bara, barring of course a large stomach. He just looked like a pregnant mare, ears up, kicking off into a trot in the snow. Some of the discomfort was eased by having four legs, and he breathed deeply as he strode into the snowy ground. Bara whickered after him, and looked at Hakon impatiently. Was he mounting or getting dragged after Vivian?

[Hakon]

When Hakon had invited Vivian to the stables to the ride, he'd imagined Vivian astride his mule and Hakon ensuring the other man came to no harm. It wasn't that Hakon felt the man was delicate -- quite the opposite; he'd encountered many mages who had slight builds who were more physically formidable than one would expect, and Malformists' abilities allowed them to conceal their physical strength if they so wished -- it was just decently close to the expected event, and any physical activity could precipitate it. At least, this was Hakon's understanding of pregnancy. He was not an expert in such matters.

He couldn't contain an exasperated sigh when Vivian used his magic in contravention of Guild rules, again, now that it was just he two of them.

"You're to keep your magic use to designated areas, Vivian," he said to the pregnant version of Bara. "I know you think me a killjoy, and I do not care. The punishment for this kind of flagrancy is confinement, floggings, or worse. There are members of the Watch that will not hesitate to carry out their duties with great enthusiasm, despite your condition. I do not wish to see you or your child come to harm because of your immoderacy. You are surrounded by guards who are waiting to see if you are obedient or wicked, and they will not hesitate to do their duty if they believe you to be wicked. I would advise you not to give them an opening, because they will take it."

So saying, he trotted alongside Vivian. He had no intention of riding the other man. It did not seem proper, and if they were caught like this, he did not want it to seem like he was involved in whatever shenanigans the other mage had in mind. Besides, a brisk jog sounded like fun.

[Vivian]

Vivian listened to Hakon’s chiding, one ear swiveled back toward him. He just…needed this. He needed to feel mobile, and strong, and warm in the freezing Frost weather. Bara had significantly fluffed up in the cold, trotting obediently next to Hakon. Vivian didn’t blanket the animal; mules did better in the cold when they were allowed to cultivate their heavy coats. Bara had transformed from a sleek, muscular beast into a fluffy thing, and Vivian had modified his own form to match.

Running as a man might have instigated something, but as a mule he was reassured. Mules and other equines could run until hours before birth, after all. He kicked up his heels, tossing his head in play and cantering around. Besides, Vivian thought he looked rather pretty like this with his knees hiked up and his neck arched elegantly. That being said, he was wary of being caught. After a few minutes he was blowing and puffing, and he released the form slowly. With a series of uncomfortable cracking noises, hooves became fingers, his hocks shrunk down into proper heels, and his skull shifted around. He did wince slightly as his abdomen was herded back into the uncomfortable upright position.

“It’s…just really the only way to get any exercise.” He panted, wandering over to grab his coat and pants. He couldn’t ride Bara, not like this. Not just because he feared jostling his babe, but because the womb itself was very protective. The teeth guarding his cervix would extend outward, clawing and tearing at any flesh that dared invade the space between Vivian’s legs. He didn’t quite trust that bouncing around on a mule’s back wouldn’t trigger that same protection, and he wasn’t eager to try it.

He rested against the fence, raking his hair back from his face. Bara was having a decent time, trotting about and occasionally tugging Hakon to a stop to lip through the snow at something. “He’s a good friend, you know. Been with me through everything. He was given to me before I was…removed from my birth home.” Vivian said with a sad smile. “His was one of the first few templates I learned, and I believe the only mammal.”

Vivian leaned his head back in the cool air. “What about yours? Your magic? Tell me about it.”

[Hakon]

Hakon enjoyed jogging with Bara. With Vivian, there, it was more of a mixed bag. He had no great knowledge of animals, and he was not familiar enough with Malformity to be sure if a pregnant practitioner was safe in other forms, besides. He didn't want Vivian's infant to come to harm due to the character deficiencies of its father. So when Vivian turned back, Hakon was relieved. He focused on Vivian's fluffy friend Bara, and running around with him in the chill air while the Malformist put his clothes back on.

Hakon stares stone-faced at Vivian's weak excuse. "It is not the only way, Vivian. Nor is it the wise way now that you are a Guild Mage. As I said, I do not wish to see you harmed." He wondered if that sounded like a threat, so he added: "in deference to the fact that you are still acclimating, I have no intention of informing the Watch of what you did either here or in the library. My peers may think that I live for nothing more than writing down their every infraction in a little notebook, but in truth I prefer everyone follow the rules because the alternative can be quite ugly. Please don't think I will not do so, though, if you continue. My understanding is not inexhaustible, and you are depleting it."

He softened, somewhat, at the mention of Bara. "I'm glad he brings you comfort, and has been with you for so long. I did not have anything from my home with me when I was brought here. The villagers burnt everything as a precaution against further magical rot spreading through the community, and that included my possessions, such as they were. I didn't have much in any case. We were very poor and had only recently reestablished ourselves in the community as sharecroppers."

He tried to remember if he'd had anything that was special to him. There had been a toy, perhaps -- something wooden. He remembered his dad whittling it for him. It had burnt like everyhing else, though, and like much of his old life, at this point he could barely recall it. He just remembered caressing the sanded planes of the toy during moments of stress.

"That incident was how I came to be a Brand magician."

He briefly summoned a Mace from his Mark, swinging it around and allowing Vivian to watch it phase through his body as he performed a simple moveset with the club before dismissing it.

He nodded to the soul torch on his belt. Anyone with a passing famliarity with magic would recognize it. Grave needed no introduction.

"That came later, after I'd already been here for some time. It's unusual to be initiated again while in the Guild, but my Warden felt it would aid me in my duties, and I consented for that reason. I will say that it is helpful to be able to heal myself in the field when I'm injured. Helps me keep going longer than people might expect."

[Vivian]

”Alright, alright.” Vivian sighed. “Malformity is as natural as breathing to me, and it’s not like I’m used to hiding it.” He looked at Hakon. “Something tells me you’ve been on the receiving end of such punishments if you’re trying so hard to save me from it. So…I thank you. I wasn’t very good at following the rules even before I became what I am.”

His face softened as he listened to Hakon. Thrown to the guild, his beloved possessions burnt. Being treated like a leper in a colony. “How young were you?” He asked softly. “I was sixteen. The mage was one of my johns. Paid extra for me for three days of silence. No one checked up on me…they just assumed that whatever he was doing, he had paid for the privilege. I was kicked out when my mother was murdered.”

Vivian approached Hakon, and took the reins from him. He pulled the bridle off of Bara, and patted his shoulder. “Go run.” He clicked how tongue at the mule, who broke away from them to run around the paddock. He watched Hakon fling the mace, smiling. Who was using magic now? He was happy to see him use it. The soul lamp was…intriguing. He raised an eyebrow.

“You were initiated…while in the Guild?” He asked. The guild that thought mages were evil and thought to contain all magic? Who would have thought? Most institutions like this had some form of hypocrisy as long as it suited their needs. Vivian offered his hand to Hakon. “They hurt you when they gave you the Brand, didn’t they? I know I was lucky to be alive. Azunath must have deemed me worthy enough to bear the gift…I had even prepared that gift for another before he disappeared. I couldn’t see my Mark used to enslave other mages like you’ve been enslaved. It’s a perversion of everything Malformity holds dear.”

[Hakon]

Hakon didn't talk about his initiation too often. Everyone in the Guild already knew anyway, or everyone who had been here when he arrived twenty odd years ago knew, and he assumed that they told newcomers eventually because as far as he was concerned, all most of his brethren did all day was sit on their asses, gossip, and make trouble. Still, Vivian shared his story, and he seemed to really be asking, so Hakon felt there was no harm in sharing:

"Better that you hear it from me than some busybody, I guess. I was initiated when I was about seven years old by the thug who was sent to kill my Father. The reason for that was, ah -- complicated. My father wronged a member of the Entente, or a member of the Entente felt he had, which I suppose is the same thing. We fled the man's estate -- I remember complaining about how squalid our new conditions were, although I don't think I knew that word back then. Evidently, my Father thought he would not be pursued, and he was wrong. The Lord's Valran came after us, and killed him. Then, he," Hakon paused. He hated this part: the weakness of it. "He found me. I'd been hiding in the wardrobe at my dad's behest, but I must have made a noise or something, because he found me and initiated me into Brand."

Most of that night was hazy, but not that part. The feeling of hiding in the wardrobe, of being discovered and dragged out, threatened, and then -- the smile of the Valran when he came up with the idea. It still made Hakon's blood run cold.

"I don't know if you know, Vivian -- Brand initiation is notoriously painful. Many initiations are painful and all are unpleasant, but with Brand, the pain is the point. If you can't handle the pain, you die. It separates the wheat from the chaff quite efficiently that way. I endured, and lived. The next day, the villagers found me, and sent for the Guild. I've been here ever since."

"The Grave initiation was nothing by comparison. For one thing, I was an adult. For another, I was prepped on what to expect and our Fellow in Grave performed my Initiation personally. While there is always a chance of death or side effects, I gladly did it for the good of the Guild, and I'd do it again."