kinevart

[kinevart]

samson

“It’s a big thing,” Samson begins. Until he frowns, collecting his thoughts as she’s comforting him. Kinevart doesn’t need him, it seems, so he can’t be here making her look after him. “Yeah. Yeah! Plenty of time. We’ll figure it out.” It’s a frightening thought to know just how they’re truly strangers about to have a child together. That’s exactly what his own mother must’ve felt like, only his father had long skipped town. A peaceful live in the forest sounds like something he’d want for his child. Which gives him pause—what will their child be? “Is Lucine the same as you? Mutation-wise, I mean.” @sexysamson69

“It is a big thing,” she agrees. And to her, it is a wonderful thing. She very much likes being a mother, and is excited at the thought of another child in her life. But Samson’s feelings are not her own, and Kinevart cannot force him to share in her excitement. His question about Lucine puts her very briefly on guard; she is suspicious of any questions about her daughter, but of course Samson has more right than most to enquire now.

“She is. I believe her father was human, so I am not sure if our child will be more like me, or you, or a mix. My biology education is… lacking.” A small smile. She’s never received any formal education. “But whatever they end up like, you will love them more than you can imagine. When you hold them for the first time, the love will be so much stronger than any anxiety.”

[kinevart]

raul

@wolfsonged

         raul almost sinks back down to the floor. not quite out of despair, not quite out of exhaustion. it’s been a long, long time since he’s had anyone present while he’s in this state, after being chained up in the dark. royal can keep the beast in line as a bear, even help pick him back up in the morning, but that’s not the same thing. he still doesn’t know how to be vulnerable, especially not like this. all of her points make perfect sense, their logic ( although it is more than logic ) impossible to fault, and yet... how do you convince yourself, after so long, that maybe being a hopeless burden isn’t all there is to life? he’s more than just some old dog—people are much, much more difficult to teach new tricks.        

 “i hope i can, too,” he mumbles, after a long moment. it always feels like a long uphill climb, and that he’s only managed to wedge his way up a couple of feet. but then, what in his life hasn’t felt like that at one point or another? but then, like all vulnerable moments, raul has to deflect from it. too much will just overwhelm him. “can you help me up?” @wolf

Kinevart does not immediately agree to help him up, regarding him soberly instead for a moment. He is still weak, she thinks. “Are you in a rush?” she asks with a small, kind smile, offering both her hands to help him stand. She will not refuse if he truly wants to get up, and go, but she hopes it is not on her account.

[kinevart]

starcaller

She offers no further explanation; and Starcaller will keep his curiosity checked for now. Despite a few mutants crossing the threshold that he regretted every bringing in—he actively doesn’t let the betrayal jade him. He’s been alive long enough to know there are bad eggs in every batch. Even his own. Helping her to her feet, her hands are much daintier than their own. Kinevart moves with the same grace her appearance implies. Starcaller can’t help but think she’d make an excellenta addition to their home. “I was in the same before I created this place. It can become addictive—belonging somewhere after so long alone.”  Hands return to his pockets as he begins to fall into step with her towards the barrier. It shimmers, the once hazy inner grounds clear besides the iridescent film they walk through. The air inside is cleaner, fresher. Imogen’s hard working bees often buzzing through and the ground likely to spring up sporadic, strange flowers to accommodate them before the disappear into the earth once more. Growing and dying with the speed of small mushrooms, taking from and nourishing the grounds. “Anyone can walk out of the barrier,” they explain, given her propensity for isolation he assumes that can also be mistaken for a need for freedom, “Not everyone can come in.” “Welcome to the Sanctum. Where would you like to start?” coming to a stop, he gestures, pointing out the general area of each. The buildings don’t instantly give way to their function, having adapted to the old factory he built the sanctum upon. A natural growth over unnatural forms: like an artificial reef. “Mutants can live an entire lifetime in here without leaving. We have the main building, a shared space with the kitchens. The residences. A school, my labs. Something like a hospital, mainly with others that share your ability. A few who are trained.” @starcvller

She wants to disagree; that she could never find belonging addictive, because solitude is her choice and her preference. But she hasn’t really tried belonging anywhere but her forest, so it isn’t really her place to disagree. Kinevart has always been quite resistant to change.  And in any case, it is difficult to want to be disagreeable in a place like this. Starcaller leads her forth and Kinevart takes in the shimmering world; shifting in lucent rainbows like the belly of a trout swimming upstream in sparkling sunlight. It feels very special, very different. Alien, yet comforting, which is how Starcaller feels, too. “It feels as though the city is very far away, suddenly,” she says. As though the barrier is not a barrier, but a portal. 

They point out the main buildings, and one in particular catches Kinevart’s attention: labs, like hospitals. She has an immediate distrust of that; her prey sense alerts her to danger, so she knows there is none here, but the traumatised part of her brain is afraid anyway. She will not be comfortable until she has seen it, and concluded it is not a place of cruelty. “The labs,” she says levelly, betraying little of her discomfort bar a brief swish of her head; much the same way as a horse might swish its tail when suspicious, sending a lock of dark hair tumbling behind her shoulder. “You have mentioned my ability. What do you know of it?” Suspicious, again. So much is suspicious, and the fact that Kinevart’s prey sense tells her it is safe only makes her feel more suspicious still. 

[kinevart]

wolfsonged​:

         there’s no argument he can conjure up that would dismiss her point… and frankly, raul doesn’t want to try. he’s used to being a burden for his condition ( or rather, trying desperately not to be one ) but not to accepting others’ help. he knows he can be something of a hypocrite, begging others not to make his mistakes, but… old habits die hard. all he’s ever known is that he’s dangerous and that the vast majority of people don’t deserve to be exposed to that.

         “you’re right,” he says, releasing a breath in a long sigh. “you’re right.” he can admit that, at least. as much as he tries to convince himself otherwise, raul is desperate for affection, for company, for… help. sometimes he even gets it, but most times he doesn’t even allow anyone to try. he would rather chain himself in a storage container or tear himself to pieces in an old basement than put another person at risk. “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies, though Raul’s thanks are unnecessary for her. Regarding him curiously, Kinevart then laughs softly through her nose. “You are a very strange person, Raul. Most people are desperate to be helped, and held, and looked after. You, I have to bully into it. Is it hard for you to believe the world can be kind, sometimes; or that you might be deserving of its kindness?”

Kinevart, though quite cynical about humanity, is overall an optimist about the kindness of the world. There are many flora and fauna who live in happy symbiosis, eating for necessity, perpetuating the life cycle. Raul resists help in a way quite unnatural to her mind. Carrion won’t resist the maggots that writhe in its flesh any more than a flower resists the bee that touches its stamen, because these are occurrences necessary for growth and life. “I have heard that humans are social creatures.” She adds. “The first sign of civilisation being a healed femur, because you look after one another even when there is no practical ‘benefit’ to it. It is simply... what people do. I am trying to learn to let people in. I hope you can do the same.” She really is trying; when Samson had offered to help with the child Kinevart felt confused and even offended, but in this society, it is simply how people are.

[kinevart]

wolfsonged​:

         he’s about to mumble something appreciative when kinevart hits him with those two little words. next time. next time? raul is surprised to hear her say something like that—would be surprised even thinking it. she wasn’t, after all, able to make him any less dangerous… so any time she did would be fraught with risk. he likes to think he’s made a good cage for himself, but random chance is always laying in wait to change that. it was something he never would have dreamed asking of someone for pain relief. which he had appreciated. still appreciates. but…

         “you don’t have to—” slowly, he starts to work himself up to a sitting position. very slowly. it’s not pained this time ( not like it usually is ) but after going through so much trauma, his muscles are still weak. “you don’t have to worry about next time. i don’t want you to put yourself in any more danger than you have already.” not when she’s got more than herself to worry about! although, of course, that’s more than enough to make him reconsider. he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but there’s worse to be said when it comes to orphaning someone in the process.

She watches carefully as he sits up, but does not interfere. Raul moves slowly, but he can support himself. “You say that a lot: you don’t have to.” Kinevart smiles gently. “And I say this back a lot: I want to, anyway. There is no danger, since you bind yourself so effectively. And what happens when you are alone, on these mornings? You wake, you lie there, hungry and in pain…? Why face it alone, if you don’t have to?”

Due to her work, which relies on people wanting her to help them, Kinevart hasn’t encountered many people that humbly hate to be an inconvenience or ask anything of anyone. It’s a totally alien thought to her, because it is so ingrained in her to look after people. Of course she helps if she can, so long as someone is pure. It doesn’t occur to her that there might be other options, caring is simply what she does and the more vulnerable someone seems, the more eagerly she wants to help.

Having seen the ferocity of Raul when he transforms, he only seems all the more vulnerable to her now in the morning light. There is something wild and hungry in him that he cannot fight, but that he must try to defeat anyway each month and inevitably fail. Kinevart can’t bear the thought of him doing it alone, and doesn’t even like to think that he has probably been doing it alone for years already.

[kinevart]

wolfsonged​:

        i want to stay. and she means it—obviously, raul can’t imagine she would stay for any other reason. he’s made it clear that she has no obligation to him, and that he appreciates everything she’s done already… even if he still hasn’t found the answers he’s been looking for. more than that, she thanks him for the opportunity. he doesn’t think anyone else would do that. but then, they’ve known this burden for much longer. it’s not shocking, anymore. “thank you,” he mumbles, shedding her own appreciation. it’s not warranted, he doesn’t think.

         the scent of meat reaches his nose even before she puts the sandwich closer to his face, and with that he manages to find a shred of strength to pull his shoulders up. a hand, still shaking, comes close behind. he would have liked to savor the meal she had been so thoughtful to bring, but truth be told, he’s too hungry to do anything more than gulp it down as fast as physically possible. when he does finish, still a little messier than he would have liked, he rests his head back down on the concrete. “i think that’s the best sandwich i’ve ever had,” he says, a small attempt at humor.

It makes her happy to see him eat so heartily, and even to have the energy for a small joke. It is times like this when she feels the most like herself; nurturing is in the silver of her blood, it is an instinct. Kinevart doesn’t really think about it, and consequently can sometimes behave patronisingly or inappropriately; she wipes gently about Raul’s mouth with the edge of a gentle thumb much as a mother would clean the mouth of her child when they finish feeding.

“I am glad. I had some help from a very kind butcher with cooking the meat; I cannot really eat meat, nor do I have an oven, so I wouldn’t have known where to begin.“ She never had cooked food in the forest, and she and Lucy see no reason to change now. Tutting fretfully over the concrete floor on which Raul’s head rests, Kinevart adds: “Next time I will bring a pillow, if it is always difficult for you to move after.“ It doesn’t occur to Kinevart that she might not come next time.

[kinevart]

wolfsonged​:

         normally, raul would question this. no trouble? that sounds like an impossibility. but… there’s nothing around him that could be taken any other way. he’s unharmed, barely in pain. more importantly, she’s unharmed. given her vulnerable position, he can’t think for a moment she would be anywhere near him in any other case. “good to know,” he manages instead, trying to recall anything from the night before. he doesn’t blame kinevart, but… why didn’t it work? why wasn’t he able to clear his head? he forces himself to set these questions aside for a later date. the last thing he needs to do is drive off the one person willing to try and help him, even if just out of his own mess.

         “starving,” he mumbles, too exhausted even to nod. it’s true, though. his stomach always cramps something horrible the next morning, like he’s never eaten a single bite in his entire life. sometimes he can’t even keep it down the first time. “but i can…” he squeezes his eyes shut a little tighter, trying to focus on the moment. if he can’t open them, he can at least do that. “i can manage. later. if you don’t want to stay.”

“I want to stay.” Kinevart says, and she means it. It is hard to explain to those with different abilities, but she truly does want to help those in pain; it feels as beneficial to her as it does to them. Today, Raul needs her help far more than anyone that might go to her shop. “Thank you for trusting me to be here,” she offers, because after all they don’t know one another very well yet, and it must be difficult to ask anyone to be present for his transformation.

She had talked with length with Lucy about what sort of food ought to be brought, because neither of the Sarkis’ eat a particularly normal human diet, but Lucy was sure that something high protein would be good after a very tiring transformation. Eating very little meat, Kinevart’s first trip to a butcher had been confusing and a little stressful but the butcher man was very kind and even agreed to cook the meat for her when she was obviously totally clueless, so she could come back later to collect it. Kinevart used it to make a beef sandwich, on hearty seeded bread, with some other things she had had at home (onion, tomato, salad leaves), and this she now brings out of her bag, unwrapping it and holding it carefully to Raul’s lips.

[kinevart]

wolfsonged​:

         the door to his container has only opened a precious few times this early in the morning. normally, he lays here for hours, completely incapacitated, and is only able to free himself when his strength begins to return. that can be hours after he’s returned to his human shape. but it’s also what raul has done for so long. he doesn’t normally dare to allow anyone near him when he’s not… but je\s glad he has. hearing another voice, gentle and kind, is a balm to his battered soul. “morning,” he mumbles, resting his head back against the floor, letting his eyes fall shut. her hand gently resting against his head, the pain slowly receding from his joints… it’s rare that he’s at this level of peace.

         “thank you,” he continues, more of a breath than a statement. he’s still too dizzy and weak to keep his eyes open, let alone focused. “i wasn’t trouble, was i?” judging by where he is, raul is assuming she hasn’t had to deal with much more than noise… but without the actual memories, he has no way of knowing but to ask. it’s always possible that he had torn himself up and she had already healed him pre-awakening, after all.

“No. No trouble.” Kinevart promises quietly, still stroking his hair back in slow, repetitive motions and filtering out the aches and pains. It is hard to resist the desire to take it all at once, but she doesn’t want to shock his system, and in any case: full healing is not always the best thing. It is good for the body to remember how to look after itself, rather than to rely on magical healing. “Are you hungry?”

He certainly had been last night, though Kinevart doesn’t know how much of the wolf carries through into the morning.

[kinevart]

wolfsonged​:

         the night is long and painful for him ( likely for them both ) with only sunrise bringing an end to his fitful thrashing. unfortunately, the transformation back is equally as painful and taxing on his body, leaving him sweaty, weak, and disoriented. slowly blinking open his eyes, raul is pleased to see that he seems to still be in his storage container—and more importantly, in his restraints. that means, at least, that the most he’ll have to deal with is the usual aches and pains. caged animals tend to try and gnaw themselves out, when possible.  

         slowly, his sluggish mind begins to piece together the time before the transformation. kinevart had been going to… oh. it hadn’t worked. but raul is too tired for disappointment. he would much rather call out for the company, instead. “kinevart?” he manages little more than a rasp, his throat ragged from howling himself hoarse.

In the end, Kinevart does doze off a few times, fitfully and sporadically, though she wakes often. It is hard to watch Raul, the wolf, try to chew through his bindings, but there is nothing to do but watch. She is somewhere between sleeping and waking when her name is called: the voice is ragged, but very human. A glance at the screen reveals Raul, the man, lying on the floor of the storage container.

“I’m here,“ she calls back, standing to begin the work of unlocking the container. The door opens, a bar of cool morning sunlight falling across Raul, and Kinevart enters quickly, crossing to kneel by his head. “Good morning,“ she says gently, smoothing hair back from his head and beginning to draw out some of the pain he feels. Not all at once, not too quickly, because that can be disorienting. She does not explain or apologise yet, because he will know, and because all things come in time. Now the transformation is passed, there is no urgency bar the healer’s need that Kinevart feels to draw out any pain she encounters.

[kinevart]

wolfsonged​:

         by the time he’s able to lift his head again, his face fits perfectly against the well-reinforced muzzle—to the point where it hurts, a necessary precaution. if he’s able to move his mouth at all, he’s going to end up breaking his jaw trying to get out. not exactly the most fun thing to wake up to. but those are thoughts that belongs to a slumbering part of him. the wolf doesn’t care about ripping itself apart in frustration. it wants to get out of the restraints latched around it and devour whatever he finds on the other side of the warehouse door. he strains against his metal prison, a horrid, strangled growl rumbling through his chest. his name means nothing to him now. all that matters is replacing the massive amount of energy he’s lost in his transformation.

Kinevart reaches out with her senses, trying to detect some evil, some impure wrongness through the doors. There is nothing. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, prey instinct thoroughly alert, but she can rationalise her way out of the urge to flee because she knows Raul took every precaution to keep himself restrained.

There is nothing wrong with him, then. He is not evil, as a wolf. Just hungry. Were there not thick metal doors between them Kinevart would likely feel very differently, but as it is, she feels terribly sad for Raul. He must spend the night in there, alone, gnawing on a hunger that cannot be appeased. Even if that hunger is vicious, he can no more be blamed for that viciousness than a tiger that kills for food. It is clear that he is fully a wolf, the human part of his mind buried too far to be reached, so there is no point talking through the container. Instead Kinevart turns and seats herself on the ground, the phone on her lap so that she can watch and make sure nothing goes wrong. It is not a nice thing to watch; she feels like a voyeur, though there is no pleasure in watching Raul like this. It will be a long night and Kinevart thinks she will sleep little.

[kinevart]

wolfsonged​:

          without the energy to share in more conversation, short or not, raul only gives a final nod before he heads into his storage unit. it’s sparse by design, with only one wall holding a set of industrial strength ( and well maintained ) chains, complete with shackles. the kind built specifically for mutants of his caliber… and horribly uncomfortable to hook himself into. but hook himself he does, and shortly afterwards, after the sun has dipped low behind the horizon, the change begins. it’s an excruciating process of bones breaking and reshaping, skin stretching to its limit, muscles and sinew ripping itself apart only to knit itself back together anew—the only thing keeping him from screaming out ( if not in agony, than in despair ) is the fact that his jaw is muzzled shut. 

Kinevart averts her gaze from the screen for a few moments when she sees Raul begin to apply the shackles to himself. It feels too intimate, like she ought not to witness that part. He is still human, and this part is not for her eyes.

When the change comes, it is a terrible thing to witness, even with one step removed viewing it through a screen. Kinevart has never thought of transformation as something awful: for her it is seamless. As easy and pleasant as slipping into a cool pool of water in the hot summer sun, she slips into her unicorn skin and out with nothing more than a stretch. But this part she does force herself to watch, even if it feels too intimate, because it must also be so terribly lonely. “Raul?” she calls, fingers pressed gently to the sealed container door, voice raised a little so it can penetrate the metal. She is not sure what humanity will be left in him when it is done, but keeps one eye on the screen to see if he reacts.

[kinevart]

“MILK” Featuring ANGELA SARAFYAN by ROBERT ASCROFT for IRK Magazine

[kinevart]

wolfsonged​:

         even while it’s difficult to express himself, raul is deeply grateful that kinevart is here. more often than not, he has to go through his torment alone—he hadn’t had ( or allowed, more like ) someone to sit by his side in a long, long time… not since his parents had overseen his transformations. and even then, that had been while he was a child. as a teenager, he had been expected to go through it alone. “thank you,” he says, although for once he doesn’t try for a smile. he just doesn’t have the energy to force it. “i’ll go and lock myself down. if anything happens that you can’t handle…” he trails off, grimacing. “there’s a contact in my phone under emergency. you can call them for help.”

“I will.“ Kinevart almost says that nothing will happen that she can’t handle; but of course it is hard to make that promise, and perhaps it is more reassuring for him to know that she will call for help if necessary, rather than brushing off the possibility that it might become necessary. “Be safe, Raul.” she says softly before he departs. To ‘lock himself down’, a phrase that aches in her. No one should have to be locked down, by their own hand or that of another. It is necessary, for this, but it hurts Kinevart that it is so.

[kinevart]

wolfsonged​:

         even pain-free, the gnawing doesn’t stop. between his joints and the flesh that connects skin and muscle or the kind that lives within his stomach, his teeth, his tongue… it never stops. but pain adds another layer to deal with that makes the whole transformation more unpleasant than it needs to be. even still unhappy, he can find relief in one weight being lifted from his shoulders. nodding, he pulls the phone from his back pocket with a slightly shaking hand. “it’s not locked, so if at any point the screen sleeps, you don’t have to worry about some kind of password.” convenience is going to be the key to success, he thinks. “the camera is already connected and playing on the app, see.” he holds it out for kinevart to see, the storage container shown in real-time. obviously, nothing in there yet! “all you have to do is hold and look. if it goes off, just gently tap this button,” he lets a finger brush over the power button; “and that should sort it out. does that make sense?”

For a moment Kinevart’s gaze lingers on the shake of Raul’s hand rather than the phone in it. It bothers her deeply that even without pain, he is troubled enough that he still shakes. There’s an ache in Kinevart’s heart whenever that happens, as of purpose unfulfilled. But this is important, so she forces herself to pay attention to Raul’s words and the phone in his hand, not the shaking.

“It does.“ Kinevart reaches for the phone, and briefly takes Raul’s hand in both of hers before pulling back. “I will watch, and I will do everything in my power to help. Even if nothing else is possible, I will be here with you until it is done. Nothing bad will happen, not to you nor to anyone else.“

[kinevart]

wolfsonged​:

         by the time he’s ready to meet kinevart at the storage container, the itch beneath his skin is almost unbearable—that’s always how it starts. he feels too big for his own flesh, tight around the edges, and a bone-deep ache that spreads through every part of his body. the hair on his face and arms is thicker, more pronounced, and his usually warm brown eyes have lightened into a pale gold. of course, the worst part is that gnawing hunger. he tries to keep his eyes focused anywhere but her for that reason. he’s not dangerous, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like he is! “never better,” he croaks, offering a thin half smile. obviously, he’s not serious, and takes her hand without hesitation. the relief of not having pain is well worth the mental despair of letting himself have one, little touch. “are you ready to go over how to work the camera?”

He is lying, but he knows that Kinevart knows he is lying about being ‘never better’. It is one of those strange, harmless lies that humans tell; she doesn’t totally understand it but she lets it go, anyway. It is clear Raul is not feeling good, even when she takes the pain from him, and she would like to make this as easy as possible if she can. “Yes, show me.” Her voice is, as always, low and slow and soothing, and her expression is open. She is ready to learn. Though Kinevart isn’t instinctively good with technology, she will learn where necessary. And in this case, the technology is the thing that may allow her to help Raul from a position of safety.

[kinevart]

sexysamson69​:

Kinevart’s perpetual calm has been keeping him together. When she sounds confused, he can’t help shooting her a look. A deep frown because she’s done this before. Either he’s giving stupid suggestions, or she’s too used to doing it without a second parent in the picture.

“I don’t know? Don’t pregnant people need help with sh—stuff? Maybe when you’re bigger.” The last part is mumbled, a half thought he’ll have to ask around about or get someone more technologically capable to help him look it up. “I can help with cash, cooking, if you ever need, I don’t know. Someone to look after Lucine?”

“Oh, I see.“ Kinevart’s instinctive response is that she won’t need any help. She never wants help. But she thinks Sam wants to help, and it would make him feel better. And the things he suggests... it does make Kinevart realise just how different this would be, raising a child in the city. She’d not even thought about money. What could a baby need? They drink breast milk. “I was never among humans, until I was brought to America ten years ago. I lived alone, in a forest, and I raised Lucine alone there too. I suppose I probably will need some help, figuring out how to do this in a human way rather than a unicorn way. Don’t look so worried, Samson.” she lays a hand gently over the top of his. “There are still months left to prepare.”

[kinevart]

sexysamson69​:

Samson lets out a soft huff at the percentages thrown out. Kinevart has not struck him as the sort to care for those. They were a little… rough. Anything could have happened, and it’s safe to assume she wasn’t on any sort of birth control. Fuck. “I want to be involved,” the answer feels selfish, she wasn’t going to tell him. His ‘please’ goes unvoiced.

“Never planned to have kids because…You know. It’s complicated,” he settles on, finally. It’s complicated and it’s not—just some things are too difficult to put into words. The thought of his own father, a version of himself with all the good bits from his mom taken away, someone bigger and meaner. Or, worse yet, someone indifferent. Looking over to Kinevart with a frown, it’s decided that he’s going to help. Anyway he can.

“Can I give you my number?” With more frenetic energy than usual, he starts digging through his pockets, clumsy as it pulls the fabric inside out. He’s already open his contacts, “If you need anything, anytime you call. I work odd hours, don’t sleep much.”

Kinevart nods. If he wants to be involved, then he can be. She is protective over her family, but the father of her child is family, too, in a way. And she trusts Samson. She would not keep him away from his daughter (Kinevart assumes it will be a girl). She doesn’t know why having kids would be so complicated for him, and she is about to ask (will it be complicated now? Is it a problem? Kinevart needs to know if so), but he abruptly asks to give her his number, tapping away at his phone.

“If I need--” she repeats, confused. “What would I need?“ Samson is more than welcome to be involved in the child’s life, but it doesn’t for a moment occur to Kinevart that she might rely on him for anything or ask him for anything. She does things alone; independently. She has always done so.