Solo A Fresh Face

[Asterope]

1st of winter, 519 AV

It wasn't a particularly notable evening, aside from it being the dawn of a new season. Winter had crept up on them without any particular notice once again, the only real marker of the season change the flaring light of the nearest watchtower when the bell had ticked over to midnight of the first day.

Alard was complaining about the lack of winter as he lounged on his chair, drinking something strong straight out of the bottle. The smell made Aster wrinkle her nose as she sat on the floor, trying her best to sew a hole that Alard had torn in one of his shirts. Considering she had minimal experience with sewing, and what experience she did have was usually with flesh and not cloth, it wasn't going particularly well.

"And to think I'd ever miss the petching season," he snorted, rambling more to himself than to Aster, but she made a hum of acknowledgement in the back of her throat anyway as she focused on her project, brows furrowed and tongue poking out from where it was tucked between her lips as she focused.

Tying the thread through the eye of the needle wasn't particularly difficult; she pierced one side of the hole, then the other, pulling the string taut, then repeated the motions the other way. No, that didn't look right, there was too much space between the threads. Would it tighten together if she tugged? How was it that sewing up a person's flesh was somehow easier than this?

Undoing the loose stitch she had just made, Aster made to try again when she felt the familiar warmth of sunset wash over her. It didn't even make her bat an eye; she was used to it. What did make her falter, swearing when her hands jittered and the needle poked into the pad of her index finger, was the feeling of wrongness that followed.

Having two separate forms, two separate bodies, was probably a confusing thing for most people. To Aster, it was as natural as breathing; she was familiar with both of her forms, knew them both intimately, knew what to expect. She adjusted quickly; if she was out and about when the sun rose or set, it was second nature to abruptly shorten or lengthen her stride, to automatically adjust the way her clothes sat so they were more comfortable.

But something was different this time. Aster frowned, looking down at herself, hands running over her own body, feeling for the differences. And they were plenty; whereas she was used to being thin as a rake come night, feeling her ribs and collarbones jutting out from beneath pale skin, now she had slightly more padding, and her skin...was a warm olive shade. Asterope stared down at the back of her hands in shock.

[Asterope]

"What?" She managed to say, and oh, even her voice was different, smoother and warmer and missing the raspiness that she had grown used to after the fire in Alvadas, with a strange, exotic accent she couldn't recall having ever heard before.

She finally dragged her gaze away from her hands to look at Alard, feeling dazed and stunned, as if he would have an answer. He was staring at her with just as much shock as he felt. "Aster?" He asked, in disbelief, and she knew something strange was happening if he had decided to use her name.

"Y-yes," Aster confirmed, because it was indeed her. She stumbled slightly over her words, her own voice sounding strange and foreign to her ears.

"What the petch? What did you do?" Alard asked, squinting at her, then down at the bottle in his hand, giving it a shake to see how much was left, as if he could justify the strangeness he was witnessing as the result of too much hard liquor.

"I didn't do anything!" She objected, finally scrambling to her feet as her thoughts kicked back into gear. She was reeling; what was going on? Aster nearly tripped as she hastily stood, gangly as a newborn fawn as she adjusted to a new weight, a new height, new dimensions and leg length and feet size and oh, this was strange, so very strange.

She spun on her heel, nearly tripping over her own feet, eyes gazing around the room rapidly. "Mirror," was all she managed to say, and for once Alard said nothing and simply pointed to where he'd left the hand mirror on the chest in the corner, for once speechless himself.

With a few bounding, unsteady steps, Aster snatched up the mirror. She paused quite suddenly, dread settling in her stomach as she wondered what she might see, then inhaled deeply and turned it to face herself.

A stranger stared back at her, an unfamiliar young girl; slightly younger than her usual form, if she had to guess, perhaps late teens? Warm but light brown skin, still smattered in freckles, a still-square jaw with a more oval face and fuller lips and a wider nose, with long dark hair that was somewhere betwen deep brown and black and wide, golden-brown eyes.

Aster's fingers flexed around the handle of the mirror; she nearly dropped it at first, and then her fingers curled tightly around the handle, knuckles turning white as she brought the mirror closer to her...her face? She turned her head, and the reflection mimicked her. She pursed her lips, scrunched her nose, reached up to scrub a finger through her dark brows, and watched the reflection do the same each time.

"I don't understand," she finally said, still staring into the mirror, unable to tear her eyes away. She heard Alard stand, his heavy footsteps approaching, but she still didn't look up. Her head was spinning as she took in the details of what was, yes, without question, her face. But how? What was happening?

[Asterope]

"You're not petching with me, are you?" Alard asked, squinting at Aster, and she finally blinked away from her reflection, looking at him somewhat dazedly. "This isn't some weird...magic shit, or something?" His voice was on edge, suspicious now that his shock was wearing off.

Aster could only shake her head. "No. No, I mean. I don't think so? I have no idea what's going on." Should she be panicking? The thought crossed her mind, but she shook it off. It was a new body, which was startling, but it wasn't as if she was dying, and she didn't think she was trapped in it...that thought did cause some panic to flare, but she shoved it down. There was no point in freaking out until she at least knew what was going on.

The two stared at each other in silence for a few long moments before the sound of liquid sloshing broke the air as Alard raised the bottle he was still clutching, taking a deep drink from it. "Why do I always get the petching weird ones," he finally muttered, turning to return to his chair.

Aster opened her mouth to say something, then shut it with a quiet click. What else was there to do? Alard certainly didn't have answers. She had no idea who might have answers at all; her thoughts drifted to Kihala, or at least the little statuette of her hidden beneath a floorboard in the cupboard. Maybe she would know? Surely something like this had to be the work of some stronger power. It certainly wasn't any magic she had done. But why would Syna (for surely if it was a god, it had to be her?) bother to meddle with her mortal seeming?

All she had was questions, and no answers; the only possible source that might be able to help her wasn't exactly available at the moment, either. For the time being, it seemed like she would just have to accept what was happening and...keep on with what she had been doing. There wasn't anything else she could do, and she doubted Alard would be pleased if his shirt remained unpatched because she'd spent the evening wallowing in her shock and ruminating over her many unanswerable questions.

Well, he probably wouldn't be pleased anyway given the quite frankly piss poor job she was doing, but that was another matter. Inhaling deeply, Aster cast one more glance down to the mirror in her hand, still startled by the new reflection that stared back at her, and then placed it back on the trunk face down.

Asterope gathered herself, trying to calm her racing thoughts, and slowly returned to her spot on the floor. It was still bizarre to be in a new body; she was adjusting slowly, but her steps were still slightly off as she misjudged the length of her stride, and she dropped slightly too heavily to the floor when she sat down again.

Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and gathering the shirt, needle, and thread back into her lap. She stared down at her olive-skinned hands with furrowed brows, turning them over before she picked the needle up again.

It was even harder to sew with her concentration skewed, constantly drifting to the bewildering change at hand that she was being forced to push aside; not to mention she was adjusting to new fingers, not quite as thin or bony and calloused lightly in different places than she was used to. Aster jabbed the end of the needle into her fingertips more than a few times as she grabbed the needle to pull it through the fabric, hissing out tiny breaths each time as she slowly pulled the thread back and forth through the hole, keeping the stitches close to each other as much as possible.

Word Count: 644

[Asterope]

That night found Aster largely restless when she finally slipped under the blanket on her cot; Alard had passed out sprawled on top of the blankets on his bed, leaving her with an excuse to not have to join him. He was snorting disjointedly in the background as she lay quietly, hands and fingers tracing her new face and body.

Fingertips down the slope of her nose, over her lips, palms running flat over the curve of her breasts and down her stomach, feeling it expand as she inhaled, feeling the bunching of muscles when she shifted and tensed. She felt for any scars of moles or other imperfections, slowly committing the body to memory; no, not just any body, her body.

She flexed her feet, pointing and wriggling her toes, running her tongue over the points of her teeth, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, scrunching her nose and furrowing her brow, feeling the muscles of her face contract and relax. So very strange, was the last disconcerted thought that drifted through Aster's mind before sleep claimed her.

2nd of winter, 519 AV

Waking up was a relief; being back in a familiar body as her eyes opened, feeling the weight of her horns extending from her temples. Aster blinked a few times, a few rays of sunlight peeking in through the blinds and falling across her face, and enjoyed the warmth. Muffled snoring informed her that Alard was still sleeping off his hangover; he was usually pretty good at that, so it couldn't have been too late in the day.

Maybe last night was just a strange dream? But no, her palms tingled with the memory of a new and unfamiliar form that they had learned, and the image of the wide-eyed, dark-haired girl that had been her in the mirror, staring back at herself, was seared into Aster's mind.

With a soft sigh, Aster rolled out from beneath the blankets to put the kettle on over the fire to boil; Alard would want coffee. But even in the daylight, inhabiting a familiar body, her mind was elsewhere as she started her day.

Soon enough Alard was stirring, groaning and muttering groggily, but this was one thing Aster had gotten used to doing. It didn't take much, to be fair; it wasn't that different from making a pot of tea. Although coffee was new to her, and from what she understood a bit exotic, Alard was insistent on having it every morning.

Honestly, Aster wasn't sure if he actually liked it or if it was another strange way for him to show off; while it smelled nice, the one time she'd tried it, the dark liquid had been so bitter it had made her gag. She'd stick to her tea, thank you very much.

Padding over to the bedside, Aster dropped into a crouch as Alard groaned, shoving his face further into his pillow. She was silent, watching him for a long moment, not for the first time thinking of pouring the scalding hot liquid over his head. Her thoughts drifted to the dagger hidden under the floorboard in the cupboard as well; it would be so easy if she had it to just...plunge it into his back, as he lay there with his head shoved into the pillows.

But would that be enough? What if she wasn't strong enough? What if she messed up? And despite the fact that she knew she would have to kill him eventually, the thought still made her stomach twist uncomfortably. Inhaling deeply, Aster closed her eyes before opening them again.

"Your coffee, sir," she forced the words as she did every morning, fingers tightening around the handle of the steaming mug she held. Alard grunted again, and after a long moment, pushed himself up, reaching a hand out. Aster carefully handed over the mug before standing, turning to begin cleaning up. She was hoping she would have the apartment to herself for at least part of the day; she wanted to talk to Kihala and see if she might know anything about what was happening.

Word Count: 682
Total: 1,326

[Asterope]

Alard slowly drank his coffee and got himself ready for the day as Aster tidied up, milling about the apartment; her gaze kept flickering to Alard, and anxious as she was for him to leave, it felt as if his morning routine was taking infinitely longer than usual.

Finally, as Aster was mindlessly rubbing at the same spot on the mantle with a ragged cloth that she had been for the past 10 chimes, Alard finished dressing. "Right," he grunted. "I'm goin' for breakfast. Try and get that shirt fixed by the time I'm back, won't you? I might need you for something else today and I don't need you spending bells just to sew a tiny hole."

Asterope nodded, lifting her head from the spot she had been dusting and redusting and then dusting some more, and watched Alard strap his sword to his belt and waltz out of the apartment. The door closed with a slam and a breeze, and the lock clicked.

Aster held her breath, counting Alard's footsteps until they faded away, even then straining to hear them in case he forgot something or decided to come back. But there was only silence. She waited another beat, and then two, and when she was certain she was alone, she scrambled for the closet, flinging it open.

It wasn't a particularly wide closet, but it was rather long, and Aster shuffled into the storage space all the way to the back before dropping to her knees; a cloud of dust rose from where she hit the ground, and she waved her hand in front of her face, coughing as her gaze scanned the floorboards, eyes adjusting to the dimness. She reached down to swipe her fingertips over the floor, grimacing at the grime and dirt and dust she could feel collecting on her fingers, feeling around for...ah, there it was!

Her fingers caught on the raised edges of a floorboard that was slightly less dusty than the rest. Aster smiled to herself, then gripped the edges as best as she could, wriggling her fingertips into the crevice and digging in with her nails as she tugged at the board. It creaked, groaning in protest, before finally springing free. Aster pulled it back further, revealing a tiny space beneath the floorboards; the hole was the perfect size to stash away small, secret items.

She'd discovered it some time back when she'd been scouring the back of the closet for something that Alard wanted. At the time, she'd had nothing to hide away in it, but since then she'd picked up a few items that were best hidden from Alard. Reaching into the hole, Aster unfolded the soft woolen cloak that she used to wrap the other objects inside. She ignored the dagger, instead focusing on the tiny statuette of a red-headed Ethaefal woman.

It looked like a totally normal statue, if tiny and rather life-like, but Aster knew better. She reached in, carefully picking the carved woman up and sitting back on her heels as she placed her down. It wasn't the best place for a conversation, but if Alard returned unannounced, she would need to return Kihala to her hiding spot quickly.

Turning to face the statue, Asterope settled more comfortably onto the wooden floor, sitting down cross-legged. She sneezed slightly as dust whirled around her in the breeze caused by her movements, tickling her nose. Wrinkling her nose, she wiped her hands off on her pants, and cleared her throat, closing her eyes as she spoke gently, her voice quiet in the enclosed space of the closet.

"Kihala, Mother of Life, please guide me in these times. I need help, and I don't know who else to turn to; please, give me your aid." It was a short prayer, and perhaps somewhat choppy. Lacking, even; but Aster was not used to praying to anyone but Syna or sometimes Rak'keli, and certainly not used to praying to someone who would actually answer her.

Still, it seemed to do the trick. The little statuette came to life; it was subtle at first, the fluttering of the stone dress and shifting of carved hair, then more obvious as Kihala blinked her painted blue eyes and looked up at Aster, smiling gently as she gave a stretch.

[Asterope]

"Asterope," The image of the goddess spoke her name with such warmth and gentleness, true fondness evident in her voice; she seemed pleased to see the Eth, genuinely so, and it caught Aster off-guard.

"Hello, Kihala," Aster bowed her head slightly. It still felt strange to greet a deity so casually, to speak with one; she knew it wasn't really Kihala in front of her, only her image and the tiniest sliver of her power, but it was still bizarre.

Kihala chuckled slightly, as if she knew what Aster was thinking. "Your prayer sounded troubled. Has something happened?"

Inhaling deeply, Aster spilled out the strange occurrence of the night before; how when the sun had set and she had shifted forms, it had not gone as it usually does, and she'd found herself in a strange new body with no idea how or why.

Kihala listened quietly and patiently, though Aster could see the thinly painted lines of her brows raising as she continued through her story, and by the time she was finished, even the statuette couldn't completely hide her surprise.

"That is...very strange indeed," Kihala finally spoke, and Aster's shoulders slumped slightly. She knew that Kihala was not actually the goddess herself, and so she couldn't possibly have all of the answers to her questions, but Aster had been hoping for her to know something. To see her just as surprised as Aster herself was, was not encouraging, to say the least.

The not-really-goddess hummed to herself quietly in thought, pressing a finger to her pursed lips as she paced slightly, seeming unbothered by the tiny puffs of dust her feet kicked up. Aster followed the path she made with her eyes, chewing her lower lip.

"Well," the statuette of Kihala finally sighed, turning to face Aster and resting her chin in her hand. "I'm very sorry to say, Aster, but I truly have no idea what could cause this. I admit my first and really only hunch is that this change was somehow caused by divine magic, because I cannot imagine what else might be strong enough to do this without your knowledge."

She paused, still thinking, before she continued with another sigh. "But if that is the case, the who and the why are still a mystery to me. And I suppose it's not impossible for a mortal to have somehow done this; there are very powerful mages out there who have studied intensely for much of their lives, though it would be a shock to me to find such a person in Sunberth of all places."

Aster nodded. She had wondered if it could have been a god or goddess, but the only one she knew of who might have any interest in her was Syna, and Aster had heard nothing from the sun mother since her fall. The thought of it being a mere mortal hadn't particularly crossed her mind; was there reall magic out there strong enough to do such a thing?

The feeling of a tiny hand touching her elbow brought her out of her thoughts, and Aster peered down at Kihala, who smiled softly and apologetically up at her, eyebrows creased. "I am sorry that I couldn't be of more help," she offered, and Aster shook her head quickly.

"No, that's fine. I mean, I didn't really expect you to know, I was just hoping, since...well, I don't know who else I could ask about this. You did give me some things to think about, so thank you." Aster smiled slightly, leaning back against the wall and helping Kihala up to perch on her knee.

The two spent some more time just talking, Aster venting her frustrations at her situation and Kihala soothing her, advising her to bide her time despite how frustrating and painful it was, both emotionally and sometimes physically.

"Your time will come," Kihala said, sagely. "I know it's difficult, but you must be patient and have faith."

Aster sighed; she knew that, but it didn't make it any easier. Eventually, they wrapped up their conversation so that Aster could go try and finish sewing Alard's shirt; they'd been talking for some time, and who knew when he would be back.

"I'm sorry you have to hide in here," Aster whispered, wincing slightly as she carefully helped the statuette back into the hole, watching Kihala settle down into the cloak that lined the hiding place.

"We all must make sacrifices when times are hard. I understand," Kihala assured her. "Hopefully, neither of us will have to endure such conditions for too much longer."

Aster nodded, carefully re-positioning the cloak before settling the floorboard back into place, stomping down onto it to ensure it fit back in with the others as much as possible. With one last whispered goodbye, she left the closet, brushing the dirt and dust off her, and got to work searching for the shirt she'd set aside the night before.

[Asterope]

The rest of the day passed relatively quickly and without much incident; despite it not being particularly helpful, the conversation that she'd had with Kihala had soothed Aster somewhat. She worked on haphazardly finishing sewing shut the hole in Alard's shirt, and he'd returned not long after.

He'd apparently gotten into a fight with another member of the Sun's Birth and was furious, spending the next few bells ranting at Aster as she cleaned his bloodied knuckles and a small cut on his cheek. This was nothing new; Alard returned to the apartment complaining about someone or something or having gotten into a fight at least every other day.

Aster listened dutifully, nodding and frowning where it felt appropriate to do so; not that Alard really cared or was paying attention. Most of the day passed in that fashion, and before Aster knew it, evening was settling in around them. Nerves pricked up and down her spine as she looked out the window, watching the sun slowly but steadily approach the horizon. Would it happen again tonight?

As if reading her mind, Alard grunted from where he sat on his bed. "So, are you going to be the usual you tonight?"

Aster shrugged, turning to face him. "I don't know," she said, honestly, and he grunted again. She paced the apartment, fingers twisting and pulling at each other, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, eyes flicking to the window every few moments.

"Stop it," Alard snapped after only a few ticks. "You're drivin' me petchin' insane with all that pacing, woman." Aster forced herself to come to a halt in front of the window, peering out.

The sky was growing darker, and darker, until finally she felt the familiar warmth beneath her skin that meant she was shifting forms. But it was as if time paused around her, the warm glow getting stuck in her chest, her fingers tingling, and somehow without being told she knew. She had a choice. She could choose? Oh! Aster exhaled a breath, blinking dazedly, and closed her eyes as she pictured her Inarta body.

In a rush, the glow left her, leaving her in her usual mortal seeming. Aster stared down at herself, shocked and delighted as she passed her hands over the more familiar planes of her body. She could choose! Alard was squinting at her from the bed.

"So...was that just some weird one-time fluke, then?" He seemed infinitely more confused.

"No," Aster said, still somewhat breathless, "I can..." and she caught herself, tripping over her words as her thoughts caught up with her, and she shook her head. "I mean, I think it's random. I can't tell which it's going to be," she amended hastily, swallowing hard and hoping Alard didn't notice how she stumbled over her words. If she told him she could choose which mortal seeming she took on come nightfall, it was one more thing he would want to control.

She was breathing just a little bit too hard, and her tongue darted out nervously to wet her lips as she cleared her throat, stepping away from the window as the last rays of light slipped down past the horizon. Aster blinked to clear her eyes, a few bright lights of sunspots dancing over her vision where she'd stared too intensely at the setting sun. Alard was frowning, staring at her with narrowed eyes; a long moment of silence stretched out between them.

Was he suspicious? If he was, what could he do about it? Aster knew she wasn't exactly a good liar, but how could he ask her to prove this? She had to fight down a smirk as she realized this was one thing she had over him, one thing that really and truly belonged to him that he couldn't take away no matter how hard he tried.

Finally, Alard grunted. "Petchin' weird," he muttered. "Of course I pay out the nose and get stuck with a petching crazy, weird slave. Whatever, just...make sure not to let anyone see you change like that."

Well, that was hardly a new rule. Aster nodded. She could feel her hands trembling; was it from excitement at this discovery, or the adrenaline she was riding from lying? She couldn't tell. Exhaling slowly, she returned to her place by the fire, where tonight she was mending a pair of Alard's pants. Swallowing, Aster had to take a few moments to inhale and exhale slowly and deeply, closing her eyes and focusing on the warmth of the fire before her hands stopped trembling and she could hold the needle again.

She still had no idea what was going on, but knowing that she at least had some control over it made the trepidation fade away; it was still unknown and still shocking, perhaps still a little frightening, but now more than anything, it was exciting.