<You said the transformations weren't common?> You thought at Joyous Uncertainty.
<Yes. That does not mean you should be looking for the first Neomah equivalent you can find to get rid of them.>
<The first what?>
<Neomah. They're a type of flesh-shaping demon where I come from. And isn't it obvious? A Neomah's art requires work. Especially if you're pushing things by making yourself the canvas! This isn't just getting a stomach bottle bug to patch you up for some alcoholic beverages. As interesting as photographs are, they are not a suitable model for this kind of art. Unless I've misread you terribly, you want something other than simple art.>
<I just...there is so much in those statements that I don't feel like unpacking right now. Mostly, I just don't want Dad to see me like this.>
"You okay, Ma'am? Do you want me to get my sister?" Glory Girl interrupted your inner argument.
<"Why anybody would want joints with such limited range of motion, I have no idea.> Joyous Uncertainty grumbled on the edge of your thoughts.
Art. Imitation of reality. Copy of a copy. He may have had a point. That didn't mean you wanted to be completely unrecognizable. But... did you need Panacea for that?
Glory Girl looks like she's about to ask you again but you manage to speak up first. It takes everything you are to say this.
"She...she probably has more important things to worry about."
You feel a surge of approval in your direction from your headcrab houseguest.
<"Well done. Glad to know you don't find the similarities in your new biology to what mine was to be utterly abhorrent.> There was a self-evident strain of outrage mollified in the statement. It occurred to you that the things you were hating so much about how you looked now were ways in which whatever it was before it met you resembled what you'd become. Or...rather, they were ways in which what you'd become resembled what it was before it met you.
"I can't exactly hide my identity though. I don't...I really don't know what I want to do now, but maybe we could talk again sometime?"
"You know. If you're able to get away from Armsmaster without him getting you into the Protectorate... why not? Wait a minute... why would you?"
Oh no. For a brief instant your heart hammered against your chest and your muscles tense to fling you away from self-evident danger. Your fight or flight response flared up in response to the suspicion in her gaze. However, it passed as quickly as it started when Glory Girl was asked to and signed an autograph for a teenage kid who startled you by taking a picture of you with his phone.
"I'd feel better if I could at least give a good explanation of things to my family, in case Mom or Armsmaster asks. Are you okay with at least explaining however much you remember?"
ooo
You sighed. Explaining the situation to Glory Girl had gotten her oddly enraged, and it had taken some fast talking to keep her from tracking down the Trio and tearing them apart. Almost as much as it'd taken to convince her that yes, you were in fact 15. No, you didn't know why exactly you looked older; you hadn't even known that you did look that much older. Still, once you'd secured her promise not to tell anyone that you were the 'Missing Winslow Girl', you'd moved on to ask her for her phone number. A distant part of your mind seemed confused but curious at that...before you realized it was Uncertainty trying to decipher your intentions. Worse, he'd managed to get the wrong impression from whatever knowledge of human custom he could reference in your brain, and had positively glowed about how strong your children with her would be.
Between that, and the beet-red color you'd turned from your chin to your ears, you were at least 40% sure that Glory Girl was under the impression that not only were you gay, but that you had a crush on her. Still, now was not the time to deal with that. And she'd seemed surprisingly flattered by the prospect. But no, now was the time to face the music. Trekking inside the hospital, you made your way to the information desk. It wasn't hard for you to get the staff's attention, what with having to duck to fit even with the high-ceilinged layout of the hospital lobby. After a brief moment of discussion, you gratefully accepted the phone the desk receptionist offered you before typing in your home phone number.
The phone rang exactly twice before you heard the dial tone shift and it started ringing again with the new, beeping tone. It took three more rings before anyone picked up. Your father answered, his voice croaking and hoarse in a way that gripped your heart and threatened to crush it in its grasp.
"Hello?" he managed to rasp out. "Who...who's there? Is...do you have news about my daughter?!" Your heart ached to hear the panic and painful hope in his tone. You never intended for any of this to happen, much less for him to get hurt by it.
"I-I...D-Dad?" you managed to stutter out after swallowing your heart back down into its usual spot in your chest.
There was a hazy note to your father's voice, as though he weren't entirely there. Drunk or punch-drunk perhaps. "A-a-annette?" he managed to get out in a froglike croak.
"W-what? N-no. Dad, it's...it's me, Taylor. I-I'm sorry I didn't make it home tonight."
"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK...THINK YOU ARE?! Mocking me with my...my....my dead wife's voice and claiming to be my m-m-my dead daughter? What the FUCK is wrong with you, you Goddamned monster?!"
You blinked at that, taken aback. Tears were streaming down your face, though you couldn't remember starting to cry. "I...n-no! Dad! Please. Please listen? It's me. Taylor. I...I know I didn't make it home tonight. I'm so, so, so sorry. I just...a lot happened. I know you've been worried about me, and I...you weren't wrong to. Things got worse at school. I just...a lot happened that I had to deal with before I could make it home."
"MY DAUGHTER HAS BEEN MISSING FOR MOST OF A WEEK YOU SICK, DEGENERATE FUCK! I SWEAR, IF YOU'RE WITH THOSE PRT MOTHERFUCKERS I WILL GIVE YOU THE SAME I GAVE ARMSMASTER!"
You...you have no idea how to respond to any of this. Your chest is wracked by sudden sobs. The wail of your cry somehow manages to reach through the cloud of rage your father is expressing. "I...hello? I...Taylor? Is...is that...is that really you? Everything's so...so fuzzy right now. They...have me on a lot of drugs while I recover. Are...are you hurt? Are you okay, kiddo? Is...is that really you? Am I hallucinating from the painkillers?"
You feel a start and heart-rending chill at that. Your dad was hurt, and you weren't there for it. Wait. Most of a week? How...how long had you been out?
<Five days precisely, since the Chrysalis engulfed you.>
AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO TELL ME THIS?!
<I thought you already knew! You already have the ability to determine the precise time at will. I thought you were aware of the span of time.>
"Dad, you're fine. You're not hallucinating. And I'm okay." you said as soon as you could get a word in edgewise. "I'm at the hospital. I'm... I'm not hurt. I ran into Glory Girl, and she said Panacea would check me to see if everything's okay." You winced at the fear in his reaction. "I said I wasn't hurt, but... something happened to me," you couldn't help but be worried about this next part.
"I...oh, God, Taylor. I'm so happy you're okay. Can...can you make it to the hospital? To visit me? I'm...not in the best shape right now, but...please, kiddo? I could really use family right now."
ooo
[Contacts 1: New Wave] Gained!
[Intimacy: Uncertainty's Shipper Tendencies - Utter Mortification] 1/2 scenes to establish
[Intimacy: Dad - Fierce Protectiveness] 1/2 scenes to establish.
[ ] Fuck Figuring out the Cape Conundrums
--Your father needed you. You were all the family either of you had. You were more than willing to drop any and everything to be there when he needed you.
[ ] Put off the painful explanations
--As much as Dad deserves to know what had been happening, there are major, huge questions that you need to work out answers to first. You needed to speak with New Wave or the Protectorate to figure out where you stood.
[ ] Write In
--Stunt determines nature.
