unpocoloco | Daybreak IC Inbox

< Nah, I won't. Besides, it'll go away if I do, once I change back. Like a magical reset button. >

[Which he'd share if he could. Poor frail man, he could use it.]

Pretty convenient! I can do that with most of the flesh wound stuff. Definitely helps a lot.

[Just not his bones. Oh well. There were healers for that.

He takes them back to their room, a quick and easy enough journey, but doesn't bring Tobias to the branch. Instead, he opens up the bathroom, letting Tobias hop onto the counter and then setting the clothes down. He locks the door on the other side, just in case.]

Let me know when you're done. Or if you need help with anything, I won't mind, or judge for that matter.

< It is. I hurt my wing once, I would have been a goner otherwise. >

[Yes, just casually talk about near death experience, this is where they're at. True friendship.

And when they get to the room... Héctor will learn that his 'voice' can pass right through doors without lowering in 'volume' one bit.]

< Don't worry, I think I can figure out what clothes go where. >

[Give him roughly three minutes to shift and a couple more to dress for the first time in months... and he'll rap on the door, unable to unlock it from his side.]

[Well that would've been regarded with a wince and a look of horror. But, well, he gets it. So many things he's run into since he died that would have killed him if not for already being dead.

He kind of expected Toby's "voice" to do that. It doesn't spook him. He just waits, patiently, nodding at Toby's assure but still waiting. Coco at three years old could figure out what went where but that didn't mean she hadn't had trouble from time to time.

He hears the knock and makes his way in, unsure what to expect.]

All good then?

[Behind the door, a perfectly ordinary human boy. He's very much on the thin side, and around the age the growth spurts begin. (They have. He's going to be tall one day, he's got that gangly look.) His dirty-blonde hair is a bit messy after dragging the shirt over it, but at least he hasn't done something insane like wear the pants on his head.

There's something steely in his face, something that he never had when he was truly human, before all these things began. Maybe it's the lack of smile? Scary, how quickly his humanity faded.]

Hhh. [Whoops. Damn. He clears his throat and tries again.] Hi?

[He stops in the doorway. He knew it would be a bit of a surprise but he wasn't anticipating... this. He looks the boy over, messy hair to bare feet. A gangly thing.

The expression isn't familiar-- it's not one he let himself have, at least where anyone could see it. But everything else sinks in.

He blinks a little at the verbal greeting, nothing going off in his head.

And then all at once, his own expression softens.]

Hola, Tobias. Look at you, you're a mess. Let me help.

[He goes to the sink, grabbing his own comb and giving it a good wash, flicking it dry. He reaches carefully for the boy's shoulder.]

I'm just going to comb out your hair, okay? So you don't look like I did when I crawled out of ditches.

[If Tobias will let him.]

[What he said about being 'creepy' may be true. So much basic body language that all people do without thinking it over that he's forgotten. Uncanny valley in the flesh, not bad CGI on a movie screen. A hawk's eyes don't move in their sockets--he turns his entire head to look at things, like his shoulder when it's touched.

Héctor seems to have shrunk, rather than him growing. The whole room is smaller. He's already nervous... how in the world did he stand living this way? But at least speech is coming back to him. He can do this. He's faced worse and survived. And he's glad for his lack of expression, honestly. Weakness spells death for animals in the wild.]

Oh--okay. If, if you want to. It's just us. Why were you in ditches?

[He does want to. There's a lot he's feeling he should do right now but he can start with that. He takes the comb through Toby's hair, slow and gentle. It's still just a bit damp from washing and that should help smooth things easier. Any creepiness is ignored, for now.]

Depends on when you're asking. [It's a rueful laugh, but a soft one.] The year after the outlands, probably a last-minute place to hide during the day. In my teens, something stupid. As a kid, ah, well, probably playing in the mud.

[He keeps bringing the comb through, getting a stubborn flip to go smooth.]

I didn't realize. If you'd told me you'd be about this size we could have saved ourselves a trip. I still have some things I had to get for my younger self here-- fae spell gone wrong. I'd been planning to donate them, but I guess they'll come in handy after all.

[He sets the comb down. Then holds out a hand.]

Can you walk on your own or do you want me to brace you?

Edited 2019-09-03 06:51 (UTC)

[A bird thing in human skin, standing there awkwardly having his hair combed. It does feel soothing, balancing out his nervousness. He's afraid to turn his head now and ruin whatever this is, and he doesn't know what to do with his arms. They just dangle there, heavy and useless. Not like wings at all.

Eight months. That's all the time it took for being human to become so unnatural. Eight intense months, more exciting and vivid than his previous life ever was.]

I couldn't remember how tall this kid was. I think... walking is okay. And talking. Obviously.

[Hah hah, lame joke, he's a real comedian.]

[Eight months would do it for anybody.]

Obviously.

[He lets his hand fall with a nod and a smile, moving out of the way so Tobias can go ahead. He doesn't go far, wanting to be sure the boy's got this first, but he'll be off to the desk in no time, tugging open a low bottom draw. There's a pair of dark shoes there, some socks, and a folded up sweater with skeletal print.]

I had somewhat prophetic tastes. But it all should fit you. You can stick your hands in the pockets then, feels less weird.

[He brings it over to wherever Tobias sits. He doesn't look over as he speaks then.]

Speaking of strange... I remember you were pretty insistent you're not a kid. I've been going with that. Despite you not being that old... and sounding like a kid... being a grade student... It's kind of weird with that all in mind that you wouldn't mention your human form just happens to be... a kid. [The faintest wry smile pulls, but he doesn't want to accuse Toby, so he doesn't look over.] And it just reminds me of where that insistence usually comes from. I just want to say, if there's something here you're not being entirely truthful about, now would be a good time. Or call me fool. But no big deal. Do let me know if the shoes are too small or big. It could help us figure out the right size.

[He does sit, on the bed and on his hands both. That seems more natural, having something to do with them. But only for a moment, because there are shoes to pick up and look at. They're a little on the big side...

Meanwhile, his heart is thudding painfully in his chest. Caught. He done goofed. He's outed himself, he must confess now or real anger will follow.

No. Wait. Héctor hasn't said one word about being a human kid. He can still salvage this. He's not doomed, he's not going to be screamed at...]

I don't want anyone to worry. I've been looking after myself as long as I could think. [When in doubt, double down and lie to Héctor's face, utterly impassive.] People aren't going to trust a kid to have their back when they need it. Especially if the kid's a bird. Right?

[He does look at the boy then, expression still soft, even as he faces the steel wall that Tobias shows.]

You worry a lot about making people worry, don't you? [He can relate. He's always been that way.] I worry about everyone, Chamaco. Your age would not make you an exception.

[He takes a seat at Toby's side.]

But... no matter how I worry, I trust the kids here a lot more than you'd think. You're all really good kids. Good people, I can tell. You're willing to take on so much for the world. You scare me, but Dios, do you amaze me. You're going to be heroes. And I think, in many ways, you already are. If I were living, I'd trust my life unquestionably. And you've already had my back this whole time.

[He reaches up and places a hand on Tobias's shoulder.]

Being a bird doesn't change that. I don't see why it would. The different distrusted groups, daemons, mages, even plain old humans... All the different kinds of beings here with so many more bad histories and so many people tangled up in between and in groups overlapping... none of it changes who you are, at the core. You're Tobias. And what I just said about kids I have faith in applies no matter what.

Chamaco?

[He knows he's not saying that right. Blame it on speech out loud being tricky. And there's no need to change the subject. He doesn't have to lie about everything. Not who he is, only what he is.]

The world's not giving us a choice. Besides, it's... it's the best I've ever felt. Having a purpose is good for me. [One of the few things he's not confused about. He's here. He's so alive. He's... turning his head to look at the hand on his shoulder.

Héctor is far too good to be real.]

...you meant that about me?

Like muchacho. Or niño. Not quite so stiff. Kind of a nickname. Unless someone's shouting it, then they might not mean it like that, but you're here so that's not going to happen.

[Tobias is definitely not a brat. But he's a kid and so chamaco it is.

The world is giving a choice. It always is. It's just not giving an easy one, even where the choice comes easy for those involved. Like Tobias apparently.

Kid's just tugging at his heart.]

Of course I mean it. I wouldn't say it if I didn't.

This would be about the time I offer a hug but I don't know how weird that would be for you.

[What other choice did he have? Living in the woods forever. Or going back to a miserable childhood and looking forward to a boring adulthood. At best. Why do that when he can fly and the world needs him...?]

Me neither, I don't know about hugs. This isn't the real me, anyway. [Not anymore. Not what he wants to be. Easier to be a bird-turned-human.]

...Thanks. For saying it. No one's said anything like that to me before.

Maybe, but it's hard to hug a bird.

[Tobias is still Tobias. And that otherwise sounds like permission.

He leans in and wraps his arms around the kid, giving a squeeze. He's a boney guy (ha) but he can hug with the best of them. After a moment, he eases back.]

They should say it. And you'll find it a lot easier for people to do that here.

[Somehow he managed to be caught off guard, arms still stiff at his side. It's over before he can think to do anything. Good work, Tobias, real smooth. Well, the great sap over there won't mind!]

Can't blame people for not saying, I didn't know anyone. [Hug. Hmm. He has been hugged and that's going to stick with him. It also makes him think of something else...]

Can I ask a question?

[No, they can't really blame anyone. But maybe now they can get him up to speed.]

Sure. What's on your mind?

[He's as expressionless as he was five minutes ago, but there's a little hesitation now.]

Is someone helping you with your, uh... being dead problem? So that you can go home one of these days?

It's something Imelda and I are working on. It's going to be a slow process. There's a lot to try and workaround, and it's going to take a while if even we do find something that works, but we're on it.

[And if nothing works he'll go back to his old plans.]

Alright. That's good to hear. That something's being done.

[It's never stopped being difficult to tell himself the dude's not just going to keel over one night.]

[It can be hard to tell what Tobias is thinking much of the time but this one isn't difficult to guess.]

I'm not going to disappear. There's still time left for me. Promise.

[He tries to keep himself from blurting it out... and he fails. Shamefully.]

How much time?

[He doesn't like telling people this. In fact, he's only told Imelda.]

I don't know the exact time. There can be a lot of factors involved that could change things. I just have an idea of where I am at and I'll start to know when the end's coming. But, if I'm guessing, anywhere from a decade to a year and a half. Whichever the case, I'll be going home before I'm done.

A year and a half?

[Something does change on his face, finally. And here he'd been hoping for a decade, at least. He's an animal and he has more time than that.]

...I'm sorry. That's not fair.

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