Closed [The Kabrin Road] Pure As Snow (Leeta)

[Caesarion]

64th of Summer, 515 AV

Concentrate. Caesarion remained stationary in his tent. It was the evening and they had just set down. He had been meditating every day and every night since the day they left Zeltiva. Considering his experience with Hypnotism and doing something relatively similar, this particular challenge was certainly not quite as difficult as with someone first entering the field of personal magic. There were moments where he knew that he had essentially cleared his mind completely - the only challenge left was to separate his mind from his physical form, imagine himself as something else. And - that wouldn't be so hard. Why? Because after all he had done with Hypnotism, he could remember looking into the mirror sometimes and not even remembering that it was he who was looking back. The body and the mind had already become somewhat separated. That was not the challenge, it was solely the meditation.

So he remained clear. His concentration met its peak, and through waiting tedious day after tedious day, he finally felt himself achieve something new: he conditioned himself to search for this particular goal of letting his mind separate. Now, upon clearing his mind through meditation, this goal would become a latent aspiration of his body and his mind would seek to meet his wishes. Deeper into concentration he went. He managed to ignore everything else - the hunger, the hurting muscles, all of these things became fading specters. And then . . . he felt it, his mind escaping the physical - taking on the perspective of nothing, and everything, not solely locked into the trance of 'Caesarion'. For a moment he was not Caesarion, but instead a wandering mind that looked to gain a new physical form. And so, he believed, he achieved the first stage of Morphing. So - Caesarion would attempt something new. Actual morphing. If he recalled correctly, he knew he didn't need a model as long as he could properly remember their face. There were a few people in this world that he could - in fact - completely recall, even through this time and distance. Rhaenon, his older brother, being one of them.

So he thought on his look. Plump lips like Caesarion. Adamant eyebrows. A strong jaw, but pointier than his brother's. Eyes that could kill - eyes that portrayed something else. They had a sort of arrowhead shape to them, with the eyelids embracing them in a unique way. A somewhat small if not average-sized forehead . . . and a simple looking nose, somewhat sharp in appearance. His ears were fairly typical, though they hugged his hair. Everything about his appearance was - in Caesarion's mind - sharp, perfect. He always envied his brother for so many things. His strength, conviction, his charm, and his appearance too. Caesarion was not a bad looking lad. In fact, since he picked up bodybuilding, he'd noticed that men and women both had been fawning over him in uncountable numbers. But there was still more to be had - there was still so much jealousy over his brother, who passed him up all the time so successfully. He wondered - could he actually steal that beauty for a moment, look into a mirror, and see Rhaenon looking back?

He relaxed himself, then slowly began to use his Djed. This was a different type of magic so of course the first step was to try and feel how this Djed needed to be used. He was exceptionally cautious and careful, considering he was already skilled at two other personal magics. He imagined each feature and sought that the Djed replicate it. So - his features began to change . . . morph. He relaxed himself as this happened, calming the mind to let the body reshape. And then of course he was finished, and it was not so scary. He felt his face. It felt . . . like when he touched Rhaenon's, except with several imperfections. He wasn't exactly a master yet so those were to be expected. Actually, there were a lot more imperfections as one went further up the face. But still - the lips, the jaw, the nose, these things were well-done. It was almost peculiar just how well he crafted these things. He wondered how he actually looked at the moment, but he was short a mirror, so such a liberty was not quite possible.

The man calmed his Djed, retracted it, and his appearance returned back to normal. He smiled brightly in victory, then he crawled out of his tent and headed for a certain woman's who had come with him on this journey - Leeta Snow. The man was dressed in simple attire. He was holding bread in his hand, chewing on it as he walked to her tent. It had been some time since he'd gotten to eat properly, considering he had been fasting as a way of achieving morphing. He probably lost a little bit of muscle mass due to that unfortunate reality.

"Leeta," he called from outside of her tent. The sun had set. Caesarion finished up his bread, then used his now-free hand to exert fire Res and light the lantern in his left hand, the magically created flames quickly firing up the contraption. His face lit up, and much around him. "It's Caesarion. I was wondering if you'd be willing to talk for a moment." He didn't know what sort of weird stuff she did when she perceived herself as being alone, so the man figured it would be best to let Leeta be Leeta . . . and not dare inquire where he might discover an unfortunate result.

[Leeta Snow]

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Light could be seen dimly emitting from the bottom of the flap that led into Leeta’s Tent. It was a large four person tent off-white in color. She had gotten the hang of setting it up after the first night on the road, but it was still not set up completely correct even now. Never having been on the road before, it was hard to gain concept of things like that, especially when it didn’t grab her interest. Instead, in her hand she had a piece of wood that she was carving into as she sat on her furs.

The inside of Leeta’s tent had a pole to hold up the center, and upon it was a lantern that was lit. Toward the back where she sat, there were two candles lit for better illumination on what she was doing. Upon the wall of her tent hung a suspended rope, upon which cleaned and drying undergarments, a cloak, and a dress hung. Her bed lay at the back of the tent, which seemed to be propped up by a nice comfortable looking fur so much so it was raised almost half a foot off the ground. It had a bedroll on top of that, and a nice fuzzy looking winter blanket on top of that. Leeta wore a dark purple dress that went down to her knees and had thin spaghetti straps on the shoulders. She wasn't clean as they hadn't come across any water significant enough to take a bath yet, but she was doing her best. As she sat there cross legged, before her on a white fur, separate from the one her bed lay on, there lay a deck of playing cards strewn out in a seemingly random game. There was obviously an opponent to the game as it had a hand of cards set opposite to her.

Her slender frame was as always hunched over her work, never proper and tall. She dropped wood chip after woodchip on the cards below as she scraped into her project. Upon Caesarion’s approach she could swear she heard someone in the grass outside her tent approaching, though she wasn’t sure it was for her. They all camped somewhat close knit to each other for safety, so people walked around; especially in these early evening hours after they had just set up camp. The men had left her alone for the most part, though there had been some rare attempts to know her that were met with opposition and fear. None of that bothered Leeta though it seemed, who was much more pleasant now that she was free from the city and its reaches. What more bothered her was her horse constantly trying to play games with her, or at least that’s what she thought was happening; not to mention the soreness of her legs in riding him.

“Leeta” a voice said and she dropped her whittling tool and her piece of wood at the sound of it at her tent door. It was Caesarion as he revealed and she could see conflicting light outside her tent flap. “Come in Caesarion” she said happily and then went to pick up her whittling tool and wood block. “What is on your mind?” she inquired of him giving him a sideways glance briefly with a grin as she went back to her whittling, not entirely taking in his features so much as she looked.

There were no hanging corpses or anything creepy inside her room, though if he looked toward her chest he would see her embalming equipment and fluids setting out and a couple dresses strewn over the chest as if she didn't have time to put them away yet.

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Other's Words -- My Words -- My Thoughts

[Caesarion]

As he called her name, he heard something drop. He safely held back a laugh, though he knew that it was certainly the girl's clumsiness at work. Come in, she said, allowing his entry. He opened the tent and slipped through the flaps, setting his lantern down. The man weaved Air Res around his palm, then flung it at the flame inside of his lantern - the result was the air forcing the fire to blow out. He figured maybe it was actually a silly idea to leave that on while he was inside. It was only so he could momentarily transcribe his surroundings. "Good evening," he said politely. He looked around her tent and saw her belongings. She was working on some wood . . . carving, he supposed? Not a bad idea for a Maledictor. The tent was filled with simple things - her chest, some clothes, her embalming equipment and some fluids. Very typical for a world mage, he imagined. The man calmly took a seat by his lantern, looking to Leeta's face as she concentrated on her craft. "I've successfully morphed," he said. Though he only had one model and it wasn't exactly the most seamless transformation. "I would like to show you - ask your opinion."

He grinned slightly. Last time, he just did the face. He didn't really know how to do Rhaenon's hair or anything of the like. This time, he figured he would try to do that too. So, he remembered and he focused. The adamant jawline, the large lips, the sharp nose and the piercing eyes. The strong eyebrows that curved down. The stubble . . . the ears that kissed his hair, which was always perfectly styled. He thought about all of these things deeply, focusing, almost entering a meditative trance. Then, he began to channel Djed into the thought, slowly and carefully doing his own sort of carving - that of turning his appearance into another. The Djed washed over him and his expression and his features were slowly transformed. It felt . . . weird. Not very comfortable. He didn't quite like it honestly, this feeling of being taken over by another identity. After some time, Leeta would see another face staring back at her - though it would noticeably look . . . not completely refined. Perhaps some imperfections that were generally abnormal for an average human being. "Do I look alright?" He spoke, his own voice calling to her. He could hardly remember Rhaenon's exact pitch, so it was an impossibility to perfectly replicate that.

The man relaxed his hands on his lap, and he blinked his eyes and wiggled his ears. He didn't quite feel very natural yet, when bearing the face of someone else. He was sure that he didn't properly do Rhaenon's neck, so it sort of looked like a head on a foreign body. Surely not the most attractive transformation, despite the model being an attractive person. "I was wondering-" he started. "Can I copy voices too? I can sort of remember his voice . . . though I'm not sure if I'd get it perfectly right. I want to learn morphing by copying the appearances and voices of miscellaneous people. Each person from my memory, a model for this magic. Rhaenon Panthos, my brother, and current transformation. Face as you see - voice deep and dark." Then he started to recall all the others, a faint smile gracing his lips as he did so. "Lyssa Panthos, my mother, deep green eyes with a flare of rebellion in them. Long blond hair. A voice made for commanding those beneath you. Then, so many others, who I can't care to describe at the moment - Mhaenies Panthos, father, Gallagher Clark, friend, Aoren Skycrown, former lover, Emarus Telemaran, slave owner, Ameer Milab, fellow slave and friend, Keene Ward, warden in Sahova, Talya, Firenze, Valerio . . ." He enjoyed examining people - their faces, their voices.

He enjoyed the sort of . . . refinement in each face, how the Gods designed mortals with such hideousness or such beauty. Each person a different taste of the world's nectar, all of them significant of some facet born by their perspective. For a person who longed for the thoughts and the perceptions of other people - Morphing was perfect, and so Morphing was perfect for him. "I want to master this magic, and thus master disguise. I don't have ambitions that require silently laboring in a workhouse. I imagine felling cities that would oppress others under their wake. And so . . . to be able to perfectly replicate another, would that not help me to create disruption in these societies I deem unworthy?" He was very open about his desires. Since leaving Sahova, he'd come to terms with much of who he was; the boy of the past from Ravok, the boy in-between from Syliras, and the mage-monster that Sahova forged. He did not have difficulty professing his dreams any longer, especially around people that he didn't quite imagine would judge him. He did not take Leeta as really being the type.

He looked to her face, as she carved the wood, and he wondered if he could steal away her beauty as well for a moment - take on that alarming expression she always had, and see through another set of eyes with an entirely different world perspective. He wondered what sort of ambitions she had too. Perhaps the goals of someone were completely what made them. If he could imagine both the appearance and the ambition, could he not become the ultimate schemer wherever he landed?

[Leeta Snow]

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Aww he was so polite, always “Good Evening” this, “May we talk a moment” that. It reminded her of the socialites in Zeltiva that she couldn’t stand. She rather enjoyed the extra light his lantern brought and she could see some flaws in her work. “Oh darnit.” she thought to herself and began to correct them, yet then the light went out, seemingly by itself or magic of some kind. She wondered idly if this was his reimancy. She had seen him display lightning with force upon their meeting, but this was different. She understood concepts of magic, having been to school for it and having a basic education, but she had never seen it. She looked to his lantern and then to him as he spoke. A slight grin of delight spread upon her face, and in the dim light of the lanterns and candles it almost looked creepy.

“You did, did you? Come..” she beckoned him to her and set down her things, turning to face him properly as he took a seat by his lantern. She watched with studious eyes as the man’s features began to change. The man somewhat resembled Caesarion she thought, but was different. He had a stern, strong look to him, slanted eyebrows and stubble. His hair even seemed to change and grow, altering as the man focused his Djed. She was impressed with how far he had come already, indicating he knew very well the power within him. There were imperfections throughout the face of whomever he was making and he looked abnormal. She wanted to point out all the flaws to him, but first and foremost she was his teacher.

She let him continue with his wonderment. He obviously had a lot of questions for her; things that have bubbled up inside as he rode his horse all day and sat in his tent alone. She knew the feeling and let him get all of it out. Slouching over herself, she rested her hands upon her chin as she leaned on her knees, placing her elbows upon them. He wanted to know if he also could copy voices, morph into his brother, who he revealed was the current transformation. Caesarion began to smile as he spoke, obviously bringing up fond memories of the past.

Caesarion finished his beautiful thoughts, speaking as a true student of hers would. He had ambition and she liked that in him. She picked up her tools subconsciously to begin whittling again for a second, then put them down again as her conscience stopped her. She showed she was listening to him not only by having constant eye contact, but by saying, “Your destiny does not align to leave you toiling away in a workhouse. Oh no...I wouldn’t have that. You want to know what morphing can do?” She paused. “It can fell cities, sure, it can free the oppressed, but it can also free you. Sometimes we are not who we want to be. Many times we dream as children, ‘Oh if I could only be a knight’ or ‘I wonder what it would feel like to be a bird’. Such things can be achieved with morphing and practice. I would be disappointed in you if you didn’t take what gifts I give you and do something terribly amazing with it.”

She shifted slightly, and stretching her legs out onto the grass floor nearer to his lantern where he sat, and wriggled her toes. She then leaned back onto her hands while she looked at him. “You see, you can not only alter your voice, but you can alter your eye color, your scent, how many stomachs you have, whether you can breath underwater, and many other things. So...here is your face.” With that she sat back up and focused her Djed; closing her eyes. In her mind she understood the way the djed of her face worked, and seeing it, she began to morph it, shape it into that of another. She began to morph her face into the model before her, his brother and current face so that he could see it. The imperfections were a bit strange to conceptualize in her face, her wanting to make it a normal looking face, but she had done this so much with her teacher that if it was normal for him to do it to her, so she could to it to him.

Slowly her face resembled the man’s brother and yet achieved the look much quicker. Her hair began to shrink into the very same wavy look and her lips, nose, and eyes shifted until she was done. Her eyes fluttered open to look into his. “Now you know this face, so if you can visualize what is wrong with it, then try to fix it.” She tried to imagine a voice deep and dark, altering her vocal chords with a bit of a wince on her face. She hated doing that and let out a cough as it tickled and burned her throat. The cough was deep, perhaps a bit too deep. “A voice like this? or like this?” she began experimenting with the tonality in her voice for his sake, perhaps to trigger his memory and help him along; although she didn't know he couldn't remember it.

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Other's Words -- My Words -- My Thoughts

[Caesarion]

He was pleased to see that Leeta possessed similar interest in unfamiliar destinies as him. Even though they came from cities that favored gallantries and politeness over much else, the two of them both possessed a deep and dark infatuation with magic and what it could bring them. They were both victims and beneficiaries of a little concept known as Wizard Psychology - they had been morphed personality-wise just as much as they could physically morph themselves. Your destiny does not align to leave you toiling away in a workhouse, she said. The man nodded in agreement, knowing this to be true - he was not someone little. He had worked hard and - as a result - had become much, a creature of many gradient colors and unrecognizable shapes. No one could describe him as just a simple civilian. There were far too many layers beneath the original that left him . . . altogether distinct. She spoke to him of freedom that came with Morphing - how it could allow one to embody their desires, to live as someone else, or something else. He understood this very well.

And yes, he did intend to use her gifts for terribly amazing things. Morphing and Malediction were both cogs in a wheel that he intended to use to trample over many others . . . to put it lightly.

You see, you can not only alter your voice, she started, but you can alter your eye color, your scent, how many stomachs you have, whether you can breath underwater, and many other things. That was interesting. He supposed Morphing wasn't just total transformations - but even a mixture of things. Could he in fact morph his eye color? He decided to try, though he continued to listen to her. Using his Djed, he imagined a color much as he imagined features and began to shift his iris. The intended color was red. He couldn't see the results, but there was of course an extremely strange feeling over him and he closed his eyes as his iris was washed over by a different shade. When he opened them, blinking twice and then staring into Leeta's gaze, she would look to see that his color had only barely changed - but it had a strange red tint over it. "I don't think I did it right," he confessed. The man reverted his color back to normal, diluting the Djed. Each new function would certainly take a while for him to get used to. At least several tries for each different idea. But he was making quick progress.

And, when he looked back, he saw her face changed - it was Rhaenon's, but wrong. Not horribly wrong but there were enough distinctions to make it clear that it wasn't his brother's face, nor was it a face of a regular looking person per-se. He sighed. The abnormalities were mostly on the upper half of his face. The eyelids were too present - they resembled his own eyes more than Rhaenon's. And then the lower lids were too large, making for strangely big eyes. The eyebrows were mostly alright, but with a curve that he knew to be incorrect. The biggest issue was the cheekbones and the forehead. Rhaenon's were very particular. He examined her imitation thoroughly, then sought to fix each abnormality with the sort of keen eyes of an artist. Perhaps morphing was art, in a way, scanning something and then drawing it onto your body - tracing the fine contours. He began to morph himself, looking down slightly as he winced from the highly awkward experience of his Djed rewriting his face. He configured Rhaenon - not a sort of half-baked brother that had some of Caesarion's features due to laziness or inconsideration.

Then, when he looked back up, the face was much different. He wouldn't be able to see it, but Leeta would. It was exceptionally close to Rhaenon's face, though still imperfect. The ears were wrong, forehead size was slightly off, his cheekbones were too high and his brow became slightly too thick. The hair was the biggest issue, being a sort of platinum blond color like Caesar's, instead of Rhaenon's dirty blond shade. Then he thought about the eye color. His brother's eyes were olive green, less of a sort of sea color. Caesarion's eyes were the byproduct of father and mother, blue and green. He took more after their dad in terms of appearance, though more after their mother in personality. So - for that moment, he tried desperately to change the shade of his eyes too - to fit that pure, grassy green. He focused, closed his eyes, and deeply imagined the shade. He envisioned the eyes in his head, and attempted to let his Djed paint their tone on his own face. Then, he opened to a burning sensation - but if Leeta looked, his eyes were in fact a more pure green, though it was still imperfect.

He made progress nonetheless. By the time she started to try and replicate his voice, Caesarion was almost a perfect reincarnation of his brother, though of course the differently shaped face still felt a bit weird on his body. He listened closely to her tone as she shifted it from deep tone to deep tone. He ignored her cough, figuring that pain and illness would probably be a natural part of constantly using Djed to shape one's physicality. He focused on . . . the sound, and tried to remember exactly how Rhaenon's went. One of her voices sounded close. Then she started to get closer. Eventually she came infinitely close to the mark, but with one noted element lacking. "That deep tone was perfect . . . but you're missing his energy, his individual flare." He remembered it - Rhaenon's almost overly charming voice, one that changed entirely based on his mood. It was the voice of a skeptic person, sometimes devious sounding, sometimes too sweet when trying to manipulate someone. He let the Djed run over his vocal chords - though he simply labeled the thought as 'his throat' then tried to mimic the sound. "This," he said. No, that was totally off. How did one shape their voice to a thought in their mind?

"No..." he whispered, shifting himself again. He let the Djed cling to him as he tried to reimagine the voice. "This." Yes, that was almost it. Ultimately close; a penultimate impersonation. Just a shade deeper, and a tone more deviant. "My name is Rhaenon Panthos," he whispered, morphing his tone yet again - and this time it was a perfect actualization. "That's it," he said, throwing his arms up and cheering slightly, a 'woo' escaping his lips. It felt so weird to make that sound and hear a different tone. "One model almost down. But I have to wonder - is there some way to change my body too? What if I want to look like a woman? I don't imagine sticking severed heads onto my shoulders will work for convincing people of my identity." Or maybe that was just a thought of his. And petch, he still couldn't get over the voice he was hearing. He'd have to prank his mother with that voice some time, assuming he ever saw her again of course.

[Leeta Snow]

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Leeta could see the passion behind Caesarion as he desparately attempted to make his eye color change. She gestured to the able-bodied apprentice to slow down and breath, doing so simply with her hands and non-verbal communication. It was about patience at first, not about the change so much. She figured this was a good lesson for him to learn so she opened up saying, “To change the properties of air, you force it to do your will, manipulate it in ways to go where you want and behave how you desire?” She asked inquistively, she figured she was correct so she continued, “You are not doing that with morphing. It is a state of being something else; behaving like something else. When you picture the eye changing, are you forcing it to alter to the color you want or do you rather realize that your eyes always have been red and will the djed to follow your enticement? Like I said, it is probably more like hypnotism, you are enticing your body to make the change, making it understand that, this is what it is not only what it wants, but this change is what it always has been.”

She held out her hand mentally preparing for a quick change of eye color and with a bit of flair, thrust her hand upward past her eyes. As she did her hand covered her eyes briefly, and when it had passed upward, her eyes were red in color; though more akin to a Symenestra’s eyes. “I slow myself, consider my djed, harness it, and begin to think...’Aren’t my red eyes so fearsome and beautiful in glory? I picture it like a painting’ and then I flow my djed to my eyes and anticipate that the change has happened.”

Her eyes even glowed now in the dimness of the light and then faded back to normal as she released the hold of her magic there. “Some have become so absorbed in their mentality of the change, that they almost forget who they were at some point; though I have not seen this happen personally.” She shrugged a bit and let out a snorted giggle at the thought (Still looking like his brother), “Although I’m sure if someone really really wanted to a be a horse and forgot how to be human, you’d never know...You know what? I wonder if maybe that’s why my horse is a petching vagik to me.” She wasn’t sure how Caesarion dealt with swears, but she was pretty open about them, not being very lady-like in behavior at times.

She watched steadily as Caesarion turned into another person, using her as a model to sculpt off of. He seemed to be struggling even though he made progress. As she experimented, he seemed to think she was close, she paused and said, “Flair? Hmm…” She (or now more resembling a “he”) looked up in thought as he hit the notes in practice himself, thinking about how she herself was going to add flair to the voice. He knew his brother’s voice so it was a bit easier to know when he got it right. Through experimentation he finally got it and let out a celebratory woo!

People had to wonder what the heck they were doing in her tent from the sounds of celebration. Good gods what they would find if they actually peeked in and saw them both looking like Rhaenon and sounding like him. Especially with the majority of Leeta’s body in a dress. She happily reached out to grasp his hand in congratulations briefly. “Yay! Good job.” came the sound from the nearly close voice of his brother. She then adjusted her tone to match his, figuring he was right about the edge it had to it. “Hah, this is so much fun.”

She wondered at his question. Returning to her womanly voice she said, “You must wait to try to attempt that. I don’t want you trying it yet okay? You could hurt yourself. Start with simple things like this first...we’ll get to that.” She had returned to the teacher mode briefly and though still happy in her/his face, she needed to be clear on that.

“As far as shaping your body, you have to realize that while you can do it, your clothing will not change. So while I look like your brother right now, if I were to match his body frame…” she had a guessing look and figured he perhaps might stretch her dress, but still would not rip it. She had looked at bodies constantly with studious eyes ever since she had come to town and began to learn the magic. She was a bit of a people watcher anyways, so just looking at Caesarion’s face as it was now she could assume things about his body.

She began a full body transformation, taking her time and muttering in Nader-Canoch. Her bones, organs, and even voice once more began to restructure to that of a man. Hair grew upon her limber legs, tattoos faded away from her skin, and muscles seemed to appear, redefining her literally into a man. She didn’t have to stray too much from her original mass much as his brother was not overweight, and when she was done she fluttered her eyes open, as close of a physical and verbal representation of his brother as he had likely even seen in memories. With that she stood up and with a deep voice she called out, “Get up Caesarion. Mom’s making eggs hehe. You see how it stretched things. You could easily end up naked if you change into some big hulky man or beast.”. She/he then smiled a bit and she let him observe her form, in the now slightly stretched dress. Where her breasts were there now were pectoral muscles of a man revealed with man-like nipples. Not only that, the strength behind her movements, how she stood, and held herself was upright and strong; where there was weak frailness before.


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Other's Words -- My Words -- My Thoughts

[Caesarion]

He scrunched up his lower lip as Leeta described her perception of Air Reimancy. That . . . wasn't quite how it was done, but he'd let it slide unless she decided to seriously ask him how to properly use the element of Air. In which case, he'd explain Res to her - which was truly what you manipulated, not necessarily the air itself. That was already determined once the transmutation was finished. He continued to listen, however, about how Morphing was not manipulating but self-actualizing. He began to imagine her theories in his head, and tried to find a correlation . . . a thought with which to connect it all to. And so he made a conclusion. If he was just using magic to shift his form to a state of being that was intricately tied to him, then that would lead one to question themselves entirely. Morphing was consuming the physical with a form that it could not necessarily claim distinction from. It connected every life form with every life form. So he wondered . . . "Is Morphing a way of tapping into yourself, then? And if I imagine that all of these forms are 'me' . . ." He raised his eyebrow slightly. "Is that to say that I am a part of an infinite spectrum? That my individual form is but one disguise where there are millions more to claim?" The thought enchanted him. Always changing appearance. But did that change one's beliefs? Could you live for yourself without always looking 'like' yourself? Was Caesarion confined only to the form that looked back in the mirror?

He followed her advice. The man pulled back the transformation entirely, returning to his original appearance. Then - he pictured Rhaenon in his mind, more clearly. His face, all of the ridges, contours, the sharp peaks and narrow slopes. The voice that was alluring and dangerous. He allowed himself to emulate all of these things, and then he let the changes roll over his face. The experience was as slow and uncomfortable as always, but this time, when he touched his face and muttered words, he could only notice the most minute of distinctions. So - his first model was indeed closer and closer to completion. This philosophical outlook was one very positive to his pursuing of the field. "Brilliant," he said, grinning. The man decided to keep this form for a while to see how quickly or slowly Morphing would burn Djed. Considering his experience, he figured he'd be able to pick up on the changes fairly easily. "I could see myself as entering a state close to that," he started, "form after form, a constantly shifting state of being. Never quite Caesarion, yet never quite not. Isn't that a charming way to live life? Every day from a new perspective . . . and yet to always come back to your own." He grinned. Surely he could take the title of being Leeta's most enthusiastic student.

He wasn't sure what she meant by the horse being a 'petching vagik' or whatever, though. He thought that the Gildlings were beautiful, with their glowing manes and their creamy coat. Was it somewhat different in her case?

Shortly afterwards, Leeta managed to perfectly replicate the voice that he perfectly replicated. The two of them now sounded and looked like authentic Rhaenon, which was hilarious on its own. He couldn't stop himself from laughing as he looked to her face and heard her voice. "I always petching knew that the ear of the speaker picked up their voice differently. You sound different to me than I sound to me . . . even though we have the same damn voice," he chuckled again. Morphing was one hell of a strange experience. But not in a bad way - not at all. Instead, he found it exceptionally enjoyable, peering through these different eyes and speaking from a different voice. It was as fun as it was useful. This magic would potentially replace Hypnotism as his number one non-violent personal magic.

Of course, she quickly warned him to keep full-body transformations out of the hobby list. The man - who looked strangely like a different man - nodded in agreement. "Okay," he said. He didn't want to hurt himself nor for her to have to clean up the mess - so he'd stick to regular face-shifting. That's what he'd call it. "I'll eventually want to though. Because I like the concept of . . . you know, being seamless. My body type is not very androgynous. I'm fairly certain that most heads look strange atop such a body." He was just being honest there. Caesarion was a muscular man. And he was pretty tall. If he ever deigned to put Leeta's face on - for example - he'd look exceptionally weird. Weirder than weird. And he imagined that the clothing thing would be an issue too. Seemed like it would be better to morph in private. "We'll have to buy clothes for many different body types then. Skinny women, broader women, skinny men, average men, muscular men. Fat men, fat women, short men, short women. Quite the necessary wardrobe if you wish to assume a large variety of forms." He nodded, then watched her as she did her own transformation. Rhaenon's athletically lithe form clung to her dress, and although it didn't outright rip it, he was certain that she couldn't feel very mobile in his body. But Caesarion did applaud how close she was to how he actually looked. Slightly less muscular than he actually was, but - any more and she'd probably tear her attire. He gave her a passing grade.

Then, the man decided to try and shift a little more about him - his neck, then his shoulders. He followed her example. He thought on Rhaenon's physical form and concentrated. His Djed began to swell, then attempted to shift more of his body. Not a full-body, not even a quarter of his body. Just enough to make everything above his pectorals seem more proper. He calmed himself . . . and the Morphing process took place, though he didn't quite feel right. He looked down and noticed that it looked weird - his shape didn't seem completely regular for a human. He quickly reverted his Djed back to normal, taking a deep breath. "If I were to . . . accidentally shift my body improperly, could I lose necessary functions like breathing? For example - if I changed the structure of my neck? Could I break it on accident? Would I die?" That thought was the scary one. Getting transformations wrong was fine - as long as they didn't scar him, or kill him. "And what about animal transformations . . . you changed your hand to a hoof when we met. Is it similar to taking on a human's proportions? Their appearance?"

[Leeta Snow]

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He was an intellectual boy and she was a simple girl. She was raised in the wilderness around Zeltiva, and while brought up with magic as a mental state of normalcy, she was not super brainy. She was educated, but probably not as much as Caesarion was in his youth. His words seemed to make sense to her however and she said, “I’m no master, but when I picture life, djed, and morphing…” she said dreamily, looking up to the top of her tent, “...I picture that yes, it is a way of tapping into yourself, and then we ask, what is ‘me’? I am muscle, flesh...I have a heart, and a personality. But really those things don’t even make me ‘me’. I am defined by the perception of life, the universe, and all that is in it. So if I look like a cow, behave like a cow, can even be milked like a cow, then aren’t I a cow? No not really because of my mind. Just because in my mind I know that I am Leeta, born the eldest daughter of three other children, does that mean I have to stay that way? What if I then choose in my mind to forsake that history, past, and memories. Eventually won’t I completely become a cow? Yes. So then everything is fluid really and what makes a cow a cow is just it's shape and mentality. You could become your brother, build memories like him, come to live his life and love it, and forsake your old one. You have now tapped into a life that is not yours. One day you could be fully convinced that you are actually your brother. While appealing, it can be dangerous. You know very well the addictiveness of using personal magic. You may one day become so attuned with your new form that you forget that you even knew magic, common language, or anything else for that matter and choose to chew cud until a knocker kills you for your beef.” she shrugged and considered all of this. “But that’s all very confusing. I’m just taking it one little step at a time. Like a baby learning to walk...baby steps.” she nodded firmly at the phrase.

“I think it is best to have your fun, do your ambitious deeds, but remain Caesarion...or Leeta, always knowing who you are deep inside, or else, what pleasure will you find being someone else if you’ve forgotten that you once were indeed someone else. But I like your idea, and in fact, I have used my magic at various times to actually pretend to be various women about town. It’s harder than you think. You may talk like your brother and even sound like him, but there is more to being a person than just looks and voice. Mannerisms, forms of speech, memories. Because of all of this, you would have to study your target for many days to learn….and you'd have to practice constantly. I like your enthusiasm though.”

Leeta nodded to the man’s assumptions body shape. “Yeah, in time we’ll get there. We’ll give you a dress and everything. There is no hurry. Rushing magic as you know can be a bad idea.” she chuckled at the thought of giving him a dress to wear and him looking like her. Eventually if he got good enough on the trip they could switch roles and fool their traveling companions. That all would come in time though and the thought of the type of clothing he would have to wear brought a smile to her face.

“Why do you think I wear loose dresses like this? I can’t begin to tell you the many types of transformations you can do in a nice flowing summer dress. For a man, you have armor...tight clothes...you’d have to wear something loose and baggy if you wanted to frequently change form.” She watched as he tried to emulate her, not noticing at first he was doing so because the change was gradual. She was more distracted with his applauding her, but when she noticed she stopped being gleeful and reverted back to her own form, letting all djed return to whence it came. She felt relieved letting it all go. She looked to him slightly nervous and moved to plop on the ground next to him, touching his chest where he had changed indicating for him to stop. When he did and reverted back to normal he asked her some questions. She answered him in a more stern tone, “Yes yes, that’s too much. Remember what I just said. You have no idea what you are doing to your body right now. Everything vital is right in here. You very well could do those things, block your arteries, stretch and pop your heart, collapse your lungs...it could end very gruesomely for you and very quickly. Changing a face, eye color, or skin color is a game. However changing your organs, skull size, your brain and tissues, these are not things that are done stupidly.” She said scolding him a bit, though in a peaceable way. “I will show you things that will help you learn how to do it safely. Or as safe as possible....”

She sat back on her butt as he asked about animal transformations. “Most animals are the same in body structure to humans. Once you learn the basics of anatomy and physiology then you can learn the basics of really any beast. Much of what we do is logical in transformation. We understand that a cow chews grass and has multiple stomachs, so if a horse chews on grass too, it’s likely that it has more than one stomach too right? This is where morphing can tie in with malediction. A simple downed rabbit can be not only a source of experimentation, but also one of exploration. Not to mention a tasty meal” she snickered, showing she was still having fun and wasn’t really mad at him. She then scooted back onto her fur that lined the back of her tent where she was sitting and picked up her wood working tools and began to etch into them once more. "Understand?"


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Other's Words -- My Words -- My Thoughts

[Caesarion]

She spoke . . . a lot. There was a lot to let in. For nearly the entirety of her speech, he simply sat quietly and stared at her. Though, he tried to be funny as she spoke and he started doing weird things with his face. Every time she said something philosophical, he wiggled his eyebrows. When she said something theoretical, he wiggled his ears. When she said something silly or dreamy, he wrinkled his nose. That was his way of staying sane as she bashed through her many minutes of magically-inclined speak. There were of course key elements that he incorporated into his thoughts and his approach. That in Morphing you think about the function of the creature - but may not necessarily become that creature, unless you no longer retain your own thoughts. You could become entirely lost in this transformation, and essentially lose your identity altogether. Caesarion didn't enjoy the idea of being stuck as a cow. That sounded worse than being a slave honestly. He'd have to make sure he kept his transformations away from the mundane. And then of course she did speak truly about the addiction that was 'personal magic' - as if engineered by Nikali. He did have moments, before, where he became rather ill from needless use of Reimancy simply because he couldn't get over his own power in comparison to that of surrounding humans.

She reminded him to stay Caesarion. He nodded. Then, he would mentally 'jot down' her words on mannerisms, studying a person's character - how it would take a great deal of effort to truly imitate someone, beyond simply appearance. He thought about how he might truly examine them - gain information more quickly, and without essentially spying out in the open. Then, it clicked, in the form of remembering that magics were tied to one another. "Hypnotism and Morphing have much they can do for one another. I can imagine gaining models for Morphing would be easy if I could force them into a hypnotic trance. There, I could learn completely about their mannerisms, feelings, secrets, their words. Make them forget I ever hypnotized them. Then - come out knowing everything I need to craft a master replica." He grinned proudly. That wasn't a very bad idea, he didn't think - his enthusiasm was indeed through the roof.

Though not in regards to wearing a dress. He'd probably stick with mostly male models for a long time to come, at least so no one would suspect him of being a cross-dresser when he went to the tailor's store and went home with one too many pairs of women's attire. He'd even need to buy undergarments for those transformations. And he'd have breasts? And other unmentionables? "Agh, don't worry. I won't be rushing that one." He looked somewhat repulsed. But then he remembered that this conversation was supposed to be - mostly serious. He listened to her speak about her attire.

"I'm more fashionable than that. Stretchy clothes for different occasions sounds tiring. I'd rather just have an outfit for each form. It'll become my expensive hobby." He winked at her, letting his arms to his side where they embraced the tent floor, palms against the material. Then of course he did his slightly more partial transformation, and she touched his chest as he Morphed - which made him reel back in pain. "Ow!" he cried. It stung. The reverting back to regular was slightly more sloppy thanks to the shock. He looked to her and frowned. He did go a little too far. Even his face was sort of hurting now. He touched his cheeks, wincing at a slight stinging sensation. It wasn't overgiving, though. In fact this magic didn't actually seem to use very much Djed, even despite all of the things he'd tried to do with it. It was probably just because he'd only been shifting facial features so far, though.

The list of things he could do wrong seemed worse than overgiving however. He'd have to remember not to go too far without Leeta's help or a lot of situational awareness and patience available. He'd keep with faces and tones for the moment. Such basic training seemed very safe. He decided to continue practicing in silence, trying to match the shade of his face to his body - he let the changes ripple through his skin, and as a result, he became slightly more tan. The shift was awkward but it was very miniscule. He could look down and very clearly see that he got it right. Considering the shade of the face was the model for the shade of the body, he was certain that such a miniscule change could not be very wrong. "My face matches my body for the most part, yeah?" He asked, staring at the girl. She'd returned to her regular state - but Caesarion intended to stray away from his individual form for the most part until he truly mastered the basics of this magic.

And undoubtedly that also involved animals. Anatomy and physiology. He had to be certain to remember all of these lessons. If he could examine the body of an animal while Maledicting it, then he'd surely be able to obtain more models in quicker succession. "I understand, Miss Snow," he said, recalling that she wished to be called that. "You are a very driven mage. I'm glad that I found you as I was leaving the city." He looked to her, peering deeply into her eyes. He was - in a way - trying to show respect, from the words and the look. Eye-contact. No lies involved. "There were many people in Zeltiva. Big talkers. But it was all mundane. I get so bored around regular people. The sort of information I like to inquire about is that of the sculpted mind. You're someone that interests me very much." The Morphed man leaned his head back and laid relaxed against the ground, keeping his eyes in her direction. "You never told me why you felt doomed in Zeltiva. What caused you to want to leave so badly?"

[Leeta Snow]

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Leeta almost squealed with delight at his devious thinking. It surely was chaotic, but sounded a bit fun too. She almost bounded with energy at his thoughts, especially at making a master replica.
“I didn’t think I had such a deviously fun student. That actually sounds harmlessly fun, and very effective! I knew I liked you from the start for some reason.” she joked with him playfully and his excitement fed hers. She was almost to the point where she just wanted to play games with him or do something fun. It reminded her of when she was a little girl, playing with her brother.

She laughed audibly as he restrained to becoming a woman. She was much more comfortable, having a morbid curiosity and a deviously perverse side to her; even if it was all in talk. Leeta was actually a fairly shy girl when it came to anything real or emotional in regards to relationships. She squinted at him and said, “What’s wrong with being a girl? Hmm?” she paused and said, “I’m playing...I completely understand. I was really nervous, but once you get the hang of changing into different people entirely you’ll start to be curious to see if you can do it. Do it enough times and it’s like...whatever. It’s just another body. But the challenge of seeing if you can do it is key. That’s really what learning magic is a about.” She could tell he felt uncomfortable about it so she dropped it but had a sly smile on her face.

She nodded about the clothes, ‘It could get very costly. Hundreds of mizas dependent on what you are doing.”

She knew the pain he endured as his voice cried out. Surely others had to wonder what the heck they were doing in here by now. None could imagine the horrors they would see upon opening the flap. “Yes it matches, very good. You are getting the hang of it. Just don’t over do it today. There is always tomorrow. It’s a long road.” Caesarion stayed in his altered form and she further said, “It might not feel like you are using or changing much, which you aren’t, but it can be tricky. Think of morphing like wine. When you drink something like spirits, you know you are getting drunk, but with wine, you can drink and drink and not feel drunk, then wham..you are plastered.” she smacked her hands against each other emotively. “The more patient you are with it, the more your body will be used to it.”

He ended up calling her Miss Snow and she visibly blushed, purely out of the amazing respect he showed her. “Aww thanks.” She said, setting down the whittling tool to fully give him her attention. His deep eyes seemed to assure her of his authenticity and it warmed her heart. He went on to explain how he got bored of regular people and how he liked to inquire of those with a more sculpted mind, then he referred to her. She was almost floating on compliments and watched with adoration as he leaned back in with his brother’s face still on. At least his brother was good looking. He inquired of her why she felt doomed and she immediately shied away from him to pick up her tools again. She began to almost hit the wood lightly while in thought.

“It has only been a few weeks since my sister killed herself on my bed.” Where there was once glee, now there was a bit of sorrow. Pieces of wood stopped chipping off as she annoyed herself hitting the block, and instead she held her tools and the piece of wood in her hands. Continuing she revealed, “She told me before she died...that my mother and father both killed each other.” her voice began to sound even more sad as she thought about what came next, “And that my brother got sick and died too.”

She had almost a crying tone to her voice, yet she didn’t cry, showing the woman’s resolve. She strengthened herself after the thought of her brother dying passed and said “There have always been strange things in the woods. We grew up around them, were protected from them by old magic. Malediction that has been in our family for centuries, but something went wrong....something bad. A dread and worry began to creep into my mind, a worry like what my sister had the night she died, almost a madness. It began to tear me apart, layer by layer, as if it was a curse meant for me, reaching out for me.” she shook her head and looked down. “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. My family has always been skilled in Malediction. If properly used it can be such a good thing, but I think toward the end...when I left them, they had become greedy for power. Not that that is bad, it’s just that they began to disreputable things, things a noble family like ours wouldn’t do...not that we are nobles, more in the pure sense of the word.”She pouted slightly and flopped her arms. “Well that’s all gone now, even that feeling of dread, whether it was in my mind or not...I couldn’t stick around to find out.


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Other's Words -- My Words -- My Thoughts