○ disaster ensues. ◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜ the thing swayed on its feet a moment, then froze in place, leaning slightly to the left, and tilted its head to the side. its face crumpled and its eyes popped out of its head and out came new sets, sparkling eyes the color of a rainforest in high summer and now hair was sprouting from its barren scalp, light brown shot through with blonde from time spent out in the sun, and the person that was not really a person was all at once achingly familiar and horribly foreign. "avi?" the thing said in a voice it had stolen. "what are we doing here?" "you're not—" avior began, then stopped. what was there to say? this arin that was not arin was trying to play a nasty trick on him. "avi, i don't like this place," the arin that was not arin said. "this isn't safe," "you're not real," avior said, but even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice. alfonso's shapeshifter was a terribly good actor. the arin that was not arin took a step toward avior, then another, and avior held up his hands and said "don't come any closer, i'm warning you," but it kept walking, now gathering speed, and its stolen face flickered away into something horrid for less than a heartbeat, then returned to the features that did not belong to it at all. the thing (that was not the arin that was not arin, avior would not give it that satisfaction. it was just a thing and nothing more) lurched and stumbled just before reaching him, and red, red blood exploded from its face and it staggered to the ground gripping avior's sleeve tight with both hands, and his blood ran cold and he forgot that this was a shapeshifting monster, because arin had to be dying, there was no way this was normal! "help... me..." arin choked on the red, red blood bubbling from aer throat, clutching avior's arm so tightly with both hands he thought it might leave a bruise. and then he remembered what was really happening. "you are NOT arin," he said, for the shapeshifter had forgotten: arin had broken aer hand in fred finch's disastrous activity. the blood disappeared and the shapeshifter's stolen face made an ugly expression. "stupid," it hissed, and then its eyes popped out again and the new ones that grew in their place were steely gray, and its hair fell out and grew back in short and inky black. and avior froze as he stared into the face of someone he had not thought about it years, a person he had last seen when he was eight years old and terrified, who had stood in his bedroom doorway and forced a smile and promised (lied!) that he was only going away for a short while, he would be back very soon, and wouldn't avior just keep his head down and behave himself until his brother came back? ⋘◦⋙
/ september 1, 2131 - the demon king / alfonso had found a bright side to this disappointing day, and that bright side was terrorizing avior viator. things had gone swimmingly with the shapeshifter at first. the boy had outsmarted its tricks and should have emerged triumphant, the shapeshifter knew better than to assume another form after being defeated, but something went haywire and now the boy stood frozen, mouth agape, gaze fixed on a young man who slowly got to his feet and dusted himself off with pale hands, purple and bloodied around the knuckles, and touched the bruise blooming on his cheek. "hey," the young man said. "long time no see," the boy did not move. all his bravado had wilted away. "i'm sorry," the young man tried again. "i wanted to come back at first, i really did," the boy still said nothing, and it was then that alfonso noticed that these two were eerily similar to one another, though the young man had a slightly rounder face and grayer eyes. oh, he realized. they were brothers. "why didn't you, then?" the boy spoke so softly at first alfonso thought he had said nothing at all. "i was happier not to," the young man said his voice turning cold and distant, and the boy recoiled as though he'd been struck across the face. "did you really, honestly—" the young man said now, looming tall over a boy who had never seemed smaller than in that moment— "think you would matter enough to me to warrant my going back to that hellhole?" he laughed, and it was broken glass, a terrible and cruel sound. "no, i—" the boy's voice caught in his throat, and he fell silent. "truthfully, i forgot all about you," the young man said scathingly. "i hate you," the boy said. "i hate you so much," the young man paused. "and i miss you," the boy admitted, and alfonso could see that it took a great deal of resolve for him to say so out loud. "well, i do not miss you. why would i miss my lying, conniving, stupid little brother?" the boy flinched, and the young man took a step closer to him and opened his mouth to go on, and then a number of very strange things happened. alfonso also stepped forward, saying "now, now, that's quite en—" but his vision lit up with a flash of blue and when it returned to normal, he found that he could not move. the young man was frozen as well, mouth slightly open, a look of pure venom on his face. perhaps alfonso would have to dispose of this shapeshifer, it was no good at behaving itself. pity. the grandfather clock just outside the tiny door had ceased its tick-tick-ticking, and the fire that blazed above had ceased its crack-crack-crackling. in fact, the only thing in the room that remained unfrozen was the boy, who lowered his hands from where he had raised them to protect himself and looked around, wide-eyed and frightened. and the air thrummed with *magic*. and then the boy curled his hands into fists and the world went blue again and the spell broke. "—ough!" alfonso finished his sentence, and the young man dissolved into a billion motes of dust. he turned to the boy and said, "would you care for some tea?" ⋘◦⋙ the boy was obviously still shell-shocked. alfonso wished he would grow a spine and get over it, he was not one to care for human emotions, specifically not those of children. "now," he said, sipping his tea, "do you know what just happened in there?" the boy shook his head. he stared into the fire. "when everything froze except for you? that was magic, it was. and you were the one using it," alfonso said. "no, i wasn't. you're messing with me," the boy said accusatorily. "i am most certainly not!" alfonso objected. "you did real, genuine, raw, magic. trust me. i'm a demon. i know things," "i know things, too! i know that i didn't use magic because magic isn't real! it's not real!" "i've done magical things a hundred times in front of you! you are being irrational," "fine. assuming that i *did* use magic, WHICH I DIDN'T, why do you care? i bet it happens to everyone," "it most certainly does not happen to everyone, have you gone MAD—" alfonso took a moment to compose himself. "i want no further word from you. return here at the end of the month, no sooner," he commanded. "i'll be waiting," the boy shot him a nasty glare as he left. good. alfonso did not want to be his friend. feeling rather childish for thinking that, he set down his teacup and held out his hand, palm open and facing upward. "to me," he said, closing his fist, and a billion motes of dust materialized into the form of his pet shapeshifter. "we've lots of work to do, my pet." ◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜ / a note from the author / today (november 12) is avior's canonical birthday!! i got him some childhood trauma do you think he'll like it
