#tamiel al fulani ( ft. fins )

[buriedwithit]

"oh, really? what kind of stuff? but i mean, reading and writing sounds pretty exciting to me." if only because he's not really capable of either. a little practice here and there hasn't been enough to foster the skill. unfortunately, many of his teachers just couldn't help him with that. they don't make things big enough to fit into hands as massive as his. but like this... he could hold a pencil. a book. a paper. anything he wanted. it's a little overwhelming to consider. "my family, um..." he falters, too. "they weren't really into that." his brother doesn't prioritize it, and neither had many of the other inmates he grew up with. "i didn't know they made languages just for reading. that's really interesting."

Fins perks up, audibly, and Tamiel can't help smiling too. It seems like Fins is simply this joyful and upbeat all the time. Tammy wishes he could have that same sort of energy, instead it feels like pulling teeth when he tries to be positive for too long. "Exciting? Not really. I mean, students come out with odd shit sometimes. It's a lot of reading and writing. But I enjoy it. I grew up with a—" he falters for a moment, "—a family that was very into literature and delving deep into what we read. And latin's fun, love a language without much practical use beyond reading more."

[buriedwithit]

"oh, wow, a teacher?" fins' face lights up. he hasn't met too many of the official degree, but the best people in his life are teachers or mentors to him. the few that he have met, occasional visitors to the penitentiary, have also been bright spots in his life. "that sounds exciting. do you like it?" chuckling softly, this time fins understands the joke. "yeah, i don't think i'd be as good at it. but any other time would be okay!"

He's not quite sure how that joke landed from the sound Fins makes, but Tammy chalks it up as a failure. Not like this guy will leave! He's not going to give up on the chance to be human because the guy causing it is awkward to talk too. Tammy nods, it's a job. Not everyone puts their worth into their work but it can help with conversation. "I'm a teacher. I teach Latin and English Lit at the university. If you ever pick up the waste from the uni, better make sure I'm not nearby." Despite the flop earlier, Tammy tries again! God loves a trier.

[buriedwithit]

fins makes a little noise in the back of his throat, maybe an attempt at an awkward laugh. "maybe you're right." but he wouldn't know how to tell. easier to just assume up front that nobody wants to talk to him—if he's wrong, at least he'll be pleasantly surprised instead of devastated. "oh, um... i work in waste disposal. it's just a lot of heavy lifting." what else would he possibly do? maybe if he looked like this, a lot of other things. "what do you do for work?"

It's different, he knows. Tammy's isolation is more subtle: an oversight by seeing people. If the description Fins gave him is anything to go by, his exlcusion is a bit more insidious against the fact he's a mutant. Tammy won't truly understand the plight, but he tries too. "Go for blind people, then," he jokes, lightly. Feeling like they're at risk of awkwardly sitting through a conversation about silence he takes a big sip and decides he will have to suffer through small talk. "So, Fins, what do you do? For a living, I mean."

[buriedwithit]

you don't? he thinks but doesn't ask. it's hard for him to get a read on if tammy is just being nice or if they really don't mind the company. still, people don't usually bother with all of that. and he doesn't want to think poorly of anyone just because he has trouble with trust. "i've noticed that. not a lot of people talk to me, either." usually just because of what he looks like, he's been thinking. maybe that's not always true. how would he know the difference? "i don't mind so much, but i would feel bad if i scared someone by trying to talk to them."

He smiles at the mention of being good at being quiet. Whilst Fins—a name he will have to try and adjust too—has done nothing but talk he fully believes he would sit quietly. The simply fact he'd happily sit quietly makes Tamiel want anything but. "I don't mind the conversation," he says, honestly. He can open up to a stranger he inadvertently put through a pretty intense change. It makes him acutely aware of how lonely he is, "People don't really talk to strangers. I know it's busy, but feels empty to me."

[buriedwithit]

"it's nice to meet you, tammy," he says, trying to be as polite as he can be. he's just shy of bowing. tamiel's suggestion only makes that course of action harder to resist—but he's trying to keep himself neutral, now. he doesn't want to overwhelm him just because he's thankful, after all. then maybe he won't want to see him again. and he doesn't want to be selfish about it, but that would make him very sad. "i, um... it's more of a nickname. i don't remember my real name very well. it has a lot of numbers in it. i was born, um..." he trails off, wondering if he should even be sharing this much. he worries that he's giving off a lot of negatives, too many to be bearable. "well, i didn't really get a name at first. but that's okay! i have one now, kind of." fins clasps his hands together, admiring the way his fingers fit against each other. all five. it's incredible to have all five, to see color and detail as he never has before. "i would like that, if you don't mind." glancing back up at him, he continues; "if... i could see you sometimes, i mean. i promise i won't bother you! i'm good at being quiet."

Tamiel merely nods at the deflection. The fact he’s given extra rations of water tells him how dire the stakes are for him. Tammy’s already thinking that, maybe, he’ll have to hang out with this guy more to help out. Even if he doesn’t particularly want to… maybe they could figure something out. There must be some benefit for Tamiel, something he could point at to say he’s not just doing this out of the goodness of his own heart. He simply listens, and doesn’t even think of it as rambling.  Fins. The name is sad. It’s more akin to something a person would give a pet, not a child. Was he abandoned, too? Too may be an exaggeration. His parents died, they hardly had a choice in that matter. “Tamiel,” he answers, “Or Tammy. I prefer the nickname, actually. Sounds rough, the whole extra rations for water. I come to this shop often, so maybe you can get a break every now and then.” He still offers help, still feels like shit for it. The general air of naivety around ‘Fins’ makes him feel like he could ask and not be called out. So he does after a moment. “Fins… Is that your real name or a nickname?”

[buriedwithit]

"yeah... but i think it's dry for everyone," he says, always eager to downplay his own suffering. it's not fun for him to dwell on, especially considering he's the one who has to live it. "i have, um... rations for it. they give me a little extra. i always feel bad in summer, because i know i need a lot." if he could only be like this all the time... but of course he's not the kind of person who would demand anyone to do anything, let alone stick by him forever. that's just unrealistic. even so, it doesn't stop fins from dreaming of what life could be like. falling silent again, he looks down at his hands. five fingers. then, at his toes. five of them, too. he doesn't have shoes. but with feet like these, he could! "oh, i'm sorry. i should have introduced myself," he says, jumping at the question. "i'm fins. um... because i have a fin, too. on my back. i mean, usually!" and because he's aware that he's not only rambling, but being impolite, he quickly amends, "what's yours?"

"Gills?" he repeats back, not bothering to hide his surprise, "Must've been damn dry if you were semi-aquatic." Tamiel does smile at the man's excitement. He tries to cover it with his cup, though. It's nice to have his ability met with positivity even amongst the obvious confusion and shock but he doesn't want to encourage it too much. The better eyesight is a curious change, although his knowledge of sea life is limited to figure out exactly how that would work. "Happy for you," Tammy says in a deceptively flat voice. He is happy for this stranger who's infectious joy is making this a slightly less awkward encounter than he anticipated. He decides he'll take his time with his drink. Maybe even offer to walk with the stranger for a bit. The thought stalls out there: the sudden fear he'd be potentially tailed home, that his kindness from him could quickly turn sour. It's almost impressive how quickly the good mood dissipates: like water hitting hot concrete, gone in an instant. "What's your name?"

[buriedwithit]

fins watches with curiosity as tamiel folds his cane and sits, wondering what it's for... but not bold enough to ask. he knows firsthand that questions, even well-meaning ones, can be absolutely soul-crushing. the last thing he wants to do is make him upset... especially because there's a part of him hoping that it will make him want to stay. or well, hang around. not necessarily all the time... it's a sheepish thought, though—he's the last person anyone wants to hang around! "oh, um..." he can't see. is that what the cane is for? "i'm..." fins trails off, trying to find the words to explain. would he even know what a shark is? he barely does, himself... and supposedly he is one. "i was a lot bigger, before. and... scaley. with gills." just because he's creatively minded doesn't mean that he's good with his explanations. words are always something that has escaped him. "now i just look..." he has to look down at himself again, as bewildered as he is in awe. "...like a normal person. and i can see better!" but not by much. he doesn't know it, but he's still exceptionally near-sighted—and squinting to help, which has never been in his arsenal before.

The poor guy sounds so sheepish and apologetic, Tammy has to fight the urge to say he can hug him again. He doesn't want to hug a stranger, but he has to make the conscious effort to not do things for others that would upset himself. Holding his cane under his harm, Tammy checks the bench before taking a seat. Folding up the cane, slipping it on his wrist, that all gives him something to occupy himself with as this poor mutant keeps talking. "Yeah, of course," he says with a nod. So maybe he's not entirely figured out not doing things that make him uncomfortable for another's sake. Sipping at his coffee, he figures he might as well get to know this stranger. Who knows, he could make a friend. He needs a few, even if it'd be only for his own ability. "What changed?" he asks before turning towards him, he waves a hand in front of his sunglasses and offers an explanation, in case the cane wasn't obvious enough, "I can't see."

[buriedwithit]

"oh, yes. i'm sorry." fins pulls back, a little sheepish about being so emotional about the whole thing. it's easy to forget that just because he looks human... that doesn't necessarily mean that people will like him! "it's okay... that it's not permanent, i mean." disappointing, but it's his fault for getting his own hopes up, he thinks. "i still appreciate it, even though you didn't do it on purpose." he sits still and quiet for a moment, trying to savor every new sensation he can before it's all ripped away from him again. he's certainly not going to ask anything of this stranger. well, almost anything. "...is it okay if i sit here with you a little while? i won't bother you, i promise."

With no signs of what's to come: Tamiel tenses up. He's hugged, a wet face pressed into his shoulder. This... is not a reaction he's used too. While this stranger seems to be having a much more life-changing moment, Tammy can only think get off me. He has enough empathy left in him to ignore that feeling. Let this stranger have this moment. Even as he's about to possibly ruin it. "Don't thank me," he begins, clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath in. There's no ill will meant in this hug, but it's still a stranger and he has no idea exactly what sort of person this is. "It's not permanent, it only works if you're near me." Then, because no matter how much of his life was spent learning to serve others, be kind, he can't ignore the way his chest tightens, "Can you let go of me now?"

[buriedwithit]

"yeah... um... i think so," he answers, blinking—blinking!—for the first time. wow... it's amazing. his eyes don't feel dry! but more important even than that is the way his world has shifted. instead of the muted hues of gray fins is used to, everything is... different. colorful. it's enough to bring tears to his eyes—another first for him! it's a miracle! the best day of his life! but he's able to hear ( with his ears! wow! he can't help but reach up and pull on one a little! ) from tamiel's voice that he's expecting a very different reaction. "you mean... you did this?" he asks, wiping at his eyes. with five fingered hands! "you... wow... thank you so much!" unable to contain his joy, fins throws his arms around tamiel and sniffles wetly right against his shoulder. "this means so much to me, you have no idea! this is the best thing anyone has ever done for me!"

There's a creaking of wood. The bench the man's sat on shifting as the weight of it's occupant shifts. From the strangers reaction, Tamiel can't help deflate. The extended silence worries him, too. He doesn't take a seat, more than used to being chased away if he'd taken away someone's mutation. Particularly if it's one they'd come to rely on. "You okay there?" he says before continuing, having to assume he's nullified something, "Shit, if something... If something just changed with you that's my fault."

[buriedwithit]

fins is about to assure the stranger that it's fine, people bump into him all the time, but when he opens his mouth to speak, something strange happens—a different voice comes out. instead of the lower, raspier tone that his chronic dry throat has gotten him, he sounds... normal? he lifts his hands to check them, noting with a noise of surprise that he's grown an extra finger on each, and that they—all of him—are rapidly shrinking down. "wha—?" bewildered, fins looks down again and is greeted by a pair of human hands. are those his hands? is that what he's supposed to look like? in awe at this apparent miracle, it takes him longer than he cares to admit to remember that there's still someone waiting on an answer. "oh, um. i'm sorry! you can sit here, i'm not... um, taking up as much space anymore..." well, how else is he supposed to put it?

@buriedwithit ( for fins )

Coffee in one hand, cane in the other, he's quick to leave the coffee shop. There was muttering and arguments—a few stifled shocked gasps as he's almost certain he'd nullified every mutant in that small shop. He's not even sure if he got the right order, but he knows there's a few benches across the road that have much less footfall. Swipping his cane across: he hits a thick foot. "My bad. Is there an empty seat?" he asks, unable to feel for the bench with both hands full. People usually put their bags down, and he'd rather not sit on another one.