[Writings] Cogidubnus: Update (5-6-2009) - Short Story

[Cogidubnus]

                                                         Who Are You?


   Abel stirred, the motion of his cream-colored fur rippling barely visible by the light that filtered through the small crack at the base of his door. He rolled, languorous, until his feet touched the carpeted floor, invisible in the pervasive darkness. He stretched, his back making a popping noise that broke the dull silence of the room and cut through the background murmur of the rest of SAIA coming and going. The rooms could be set at varying degrees of soundproofing – the entirely building sometimes seems as though it teemed with unseen magic, every inch enchanted in some way – even though sleep was the exception rather than the rule. Most students didn't bother with it soundproofing, at least not for purposes of getting a good night's sleep.
   Abel let the sound through on purpose. The rooms could be set to allow for total silence, but more often than not, the incubus found it unnerving. The low murmur of activity, the heartbeat of the academy, was often the lullaby that sang him to sleep.

   Red numbers blinked at him in the darkness. Midnight – nearly time for Beginner's Metamorphosis. A few moments were spent fumbling for the nightstand, and yet a few more to find and pull the chain. A click, and the room was bathed in light, the mild glow of the desk lamp harsh after the soft cool of the dark.
   Green walls were immediately visible, with a brown wooden dresser placed against one wall, a chair and a desk, and a few amenities one might see in any student's room. It was well-kept and tidy, although the bed was a mess – the sheets were nearly twisted into ropes, the comforter discarded onto the floor. The motif of the room seemed to be clearly green; green walls, green sheets, green carpet, some in varying shades, and other tones added to provide contrast. The room pulled together nicely, somehow, the constant shades of green refreshing rather than hideous. He sat still on the bed for a few minutes, running his fingers through his hair and simply resting his forehead in his hand. He looked at the door through his fingers, wincing as the sliver of light cast itself on his eye. He moved, shuffling off the bed and again stretching, this time until his toes popped.

* * *

The cream-colored feline walked amongst the crowded halls reluctantly, his every step a statement of his wishes to be somewhere, anywhere else. In contrast with the brightly colored and often sparsely clothing companions with which he walked, Abel's clothing was so conservative to be exotic – glaringly beige pants with a slightly less abnormal red shirt. If he'd let a few of the buttons down, in fact, he might not have attracted attention at all. The ragged holes in the back of the shirt, however, bespoke what he really was, and offered an explanation as to his appearance to the more observant Cubi – a newcomer, someone who couldn't yet sufficiently shapeshift to hide his wings, which meant either very young, or a very newly discovered incubus. It also explained the clothing – newly discovered Cubi likely did not find out in favorable circumstances, and these 'former beings' quite often find themselves in a very strange, very new world of immortal perspectives and sometimes very contrary moralities. These are not things conducive to the typical flamboyance that Cubi are known for. Knowing that there are monsters is one thing – finding out you are a monster is something else entirely.

This was something Abel had not quite brought himself to grasp yet. It was something, however, in his heart of hearts, he knew far too well.
"Lost?" a hand touched his shoulder. Abel jerked violently, spinning to face the offender. A black feline, clad in vaguely distracting leather and with purple lipstick, raised an eyebrow and took a half step back.

Abel stared at her, keeping himself from giving into tremors. "No." he said hoarsely. "Don't...touch me."
His inflection was of someone touched by something unclean, although he didn't mean it that way. The feline glared at him, a fang pressing over her lip, and stomped off. Abel averted his eyes quickly, gaze returning to the ground.
Class was...two building ahead. Professor Dalton.

* * *

"Metamorphosis." the teacher began. "Shape-changing. Through magic," he said, his rich voice carrying through the room, "Anyone can do it. But for Cubi..." he paused in front of an immaculately detailed statue of glass. "It simply comes naturally."
He turned to the class. "This is not a statue, as I'm sure many of you already suspect." the elderly-looking badger Cubi said. "This is a student from a more advanced class, providing very kindly a demonstration for you all." he tapped the statue once, and smiled when it chimed gently. "I don't think he meant to, though. There is, alas, a difference between becoming glass like, and becoming glass." he shook his head, amused. "Glass is inanimate, of course, so he's having a bit of trouble turning himself back. The example was too good to pass up, however, so we'll change him back...later today." he grinned, looking again at the class. There were a few half-hearted chuckles. The badger frowned slightly, and then continued.

"Metamorphosis is, without question, without peer among Cubi. We can do naturally what takes very complicated spellcasting for any other race to accomplish. This isn't, of course, a study of the deep arcane, and I can simply tell you that the mechanics of Cubi transformation and other forms are very different, but I find it easiest to say it like this – the examination of the word "metamorphosis", helps." he coughed, continuing. "It means, literally, to 'change form'. From this, there are two 'schools' of metamorphosis, although they are really just two ways of looking at the same thing."

"Any Cubi can, for example," he said, raising his arm, "Turn his hand into a claw." Here, his hand shifted grotesquely into a hooked, shelled claw. "Or make themselves thinner..." the badger promptly lost twenty pounds, and with the practice of many lectures grabbed his pants before they could fall down. "Or, even, make themselves younger, or older, or another species at will, although the latter is more uncommon. But, for example, I could be younger than any of you, or I could be older than the headmistress" - that elicited a few chuckles - "But from my appearance, you wouldn't know. Form is a matter of choice to a Cubi," he said, resuming his previous shape, "And to a certain extent, Cubi become the forms that they take. Assume the mask of, say, a penguin, and you will start to become that mask."
Abel blinked.

  "But, for the majority of Cubi, this is fine, and in my opinion is partially responsible for the flightiness of our race." Again, there were chuckles. "But for some Cubi, this is not so." His face grew more serious.
"The greater feats of metamorphosis – instantly molding your entire body to a desired shape in moments, morphing yourself around a moving blade as it cleaves for your neck, controlling thirty or more razor-sharp tentacles at a time, assuming the guise of another for extended periods of time without becoming them – for this, there is a self-knowledge that is required, a knowledge of I that very nearly borders on the Zen . You must know thyself and be aware of thyself apart from your form to do these things. It is much harder than it sounds." he said,

"There is an incubus here known as Dr. Ink – he is the head of this department, in fact – who may  be the greatest shapechanger ever known." he said. "He is not a nice man, and one of the few I know who self-admittedly describes themselves as evil. But, there exists no-one in this academy who has embraced themselves so fully as he. He revels in that knowledge of who he is, and no matter what form he takes, his self is unchanged. In this is the greatest secret of metamorphosis."

The class stared rapt, excepting for the cream-colored feline in the back, who looked more terrified than anything else, blue-and-green eyes wide and unblinking.
"Dismissed." the badger said. There was silence for a moment, and then the room erupted into noise, slamming desks and conversation and rustling bags filling up the void.

He turned to stare at the glass statue, tapping his lips. The noise died down, eventually, and he turned to look at the front of the classroom again. Predictably, the cream colored feline was still there, in the open doorway, and staring at him. The badger opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as he had turned, the feline was gone, the door slamming behind him.

   The badger stared at the door, and shook his head. He began to melt, his skeleton and musculature changing even has his fur sloughed off and reformed, and even his clothing changed, until a golden-eyed fox stood there and grinned toothily.
"Know thyself, O Abel", the fox said, and turned to consider the predicament of his rather...foolish, student...

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

hehehehehe.

Nicely played. Very nicely played.

[Tapewolf]

I'm sorry to say I saw that coming.  But it was nicely-written 

[Cogidubnus]

hehehehehe.

Nicely played. Very nicely played.

Oh why thank you.

I'm sorry to say I saw that coming.  But it was nicely-written 

Curses! It seems the Tapewolf knows me all too well. But thank you very much, sir.

[Cogidubnus]

A bit of doggerel about the sprawling nature of our campus, especially during those rainy February days.

The Walk

Oh, Environmental Sciences Building,
thou art more distant to me
than the gray sky, which
hides the sun from my weary eye, and
Apollo from the ascending mind.

[Tapewolf]

Sounds like someone needs to move closer to university 
Seriously, that cracked me up.

[Cogidubnus]

Sounds like someone needs to move closer to university 
Seriously, that cracked me up.

It's not so much the distance as the parking situation. Or, rather, that there isn't any.

All the campus cops be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand illegal spaces. And when they catch you, they will tow you. But first they must catch you; idler, listener, runner, Prince with the swift tires. Be cunning, and full of tricks, and your car will never be ticketed."

Campus is also huge. If you've got one class on one end and another class on the other, it's quite possible you'll be late.

[Lisky]

cog... i totally feel your pain 

i too have a long and obnoxious walk to classes on some days (thursdays and fridays)

i've also had similar poetry bouncing around my head, just never put them to paper... or keyboard...

[Jairus]

Heh. Great work, Cogi. I actually have all of my classes in the same building... which is a thirty minute walk from my apartment. On basically the opposite side of the campus. On the plus side, when it's not raining it's a very nice walk. And when it is, it's a five-minute bus ride.

Dangit, how long has it been since I wrote a piece of poetry? I should rectify that! Thank you for this (unintentional) kick in the pants, Cogi!

[Cogidubnus]

cog... i totally feel your pain 

i too have a long and obnoxious walk to classes on some days (thursdays and fridays)

i've also had similar poetry bouncing around my head, just never put them to paper... or keyboard...

Well, a long walk is probably good for me, in any case.

And you should write some! I'm sure everyone would like to take a look at what you've got.

Heh. Great work, Cogi. I actually have all of my classes in the same building... which is a thirty minute walk from my apartment. On basically the opposite side of the campus. On the plus side, when it's not raining it's a very nice walk. And when it is, it's a five-minute bus ride.

Dangit, how long has it been since I wrote a piece of poetry? I should rectify that! Thank you for this (unintentional) kick in the pants, Cogi!

It's no problem, Jay! We need to see more of your writing - notes are interesting, but showing is very often better than telling.

[Cogidubnus]

I wrote this for Keats's birthday, but she has kindly said that I may post it here, in order to fend off the rapidly reproducing and disturbingly well-armed dust bunnies that are beginning to take over this thread here. Also, thanks to the box for unlocking it.



The Stars are in It


   Jasmine breathed, and felt the smoke work its way deep into her lungs. Cooler than any pipe or cigarette, she drank, the smoke rife with the taste of cinnamon and oranges. She felt herself grow lightheaded as she drank, the normally half-mad giantess relaxing more fully than she had in a long while.
   She opened her eyes to exhale, her view settling on her companion. A jet black canine – such were common amongst her clan – beautiful, in his own way. The smoke that billowed up in front of her eyes framed his form delightfully...

   She passed him the nozzle to the strange machine next to them. Their fingertips brushed for but the breifest of moments, and Jasmine felt a thrill build in her heart.
   Since when have I cared if I touched a boy's hand? she thought. Her contemplation did not keep her from smiling, however.
   
   The blast was instantaneously fatal. The smile was still on her face as the building exploded, the darkened and drawn windows not offering even a moment of warning.
   The smoke that drifted towards the heavens was both sickly and sweet, and smelled of cinnamon...

   Seth awoke.

   He was in a restaurant, the same run-down one that he'd passed a thousand times when he still worked for the hospital. Windows on nearly all sides, bright upholstery...a relative sense of cleanliness kept it from feeling dingy, but the free coffee refills and tired clientele revealed it for what it was – a hole in the wall, a place the locals went to waste their afternoons when they got too old to be staying at bars until 2AM.
   It was the middle of the day, though, and Seth had no idea how he got there. He guessed that he wasn't still dreaming – his dreams, recently, hadn't been anything as pleasant as sitting in a restaurant, apparently drinking coffee.

   Seven dreams, over and over again. Dying in battle, dying unexpectedly like the last one, dying after being horribly mutilated – that was a fun one – sometimes in the midst of happiness, and sometimes in the midst of the most profound terror...

   Waking up and not knowing where he was was new, however. A cup of coffee steamed silently in front of him, and his neck hurt. He moved just a little bit, and grabbed the cup in front of him. His head turned mechanically to the side, looking out the window. It was a cloudy day – rare thing. The surrounding mountains acted as a cloud buffer, and made rain nearly as sparse as in any desert. It made the hotel across the highway look ominous, windows normally bright blue tinted black.
   "Are y'ready to order, hon?"

   Seth gripped the cup tighter. He turned, wide eyed, and looked at the waitress. She laughed – he must have flinched.
   "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" she laughed, vaguely frightening teeth showing. "Are you all right? You've been sitting here stock still for nearly an hour..."
"I'm fine." Seth said. He put his left hand on the coffee cup also, warming it. "I'll think I'd just like the check, please-"
   Seth paused. The sun was sinking, dark sky or not. He could see it falling over the edge of the mountains, just barely, through a gap in the clouds. He was hungry. And he didn't feel much like putting any effort into dinner tonight.
   "Ah...actually..." he paused, clearing his throat. He thought a second.

   "Could I get some...pancakes?" he hazarded. The waitress began putting on an apologetic face.
   "We actually don't serve breakfast after 11, sir," she began.
   "Do an old man a favor." Seth siad, smiling. His coffee steamed between his hands. The waitress paused, and shook her head. "Ah...well..."
   
   Apparently, Seth was better at looking cute, or at least old and helpless, than he thought he was. She caved.
   "I'll ask the cook." she said, pressing her lips together with distaste, and also secret amusement. Seth smiled.
   "Thanks." he said. The waitress walked away, presumably to get his ill-gotten baked goods.

   Seth took a drink of his coffee.

   *    *   *

   The night sky, is beautiful. Sometimes, Sierra wondered if anyone else noticed.

   She was frail, she knew. Everyone had told her so, and so she knew it to be true. She was no great raider of the clan, or warrior. She wasn't an artist like her sister, Esme, or as motivated to succeed as her brother. People expected very little from her, really. But it meant that people very seldom sought her out.
   Oh, her family loved her, she knew that. But it got very lonely, sometimes. Jas was out partying as much as she was fighting. Mom was always busy with the raiders, and Dad was at the forge, busy making things for people. And her other sisters were busy too...she knew it wasn't out of meanness that her sisters left her alone, but.
   It gave her alot of time to think. And watch. Think about her family. About herself. About why she got sick. About the Great Lady. About the slaves she occasionally saw through her window.
   About the night sky.

   Hala'Keth was not a large city, and there were few places that were lit up throughout the night. So, when the stars came out...it was brillaint. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Innumerable stars – she'd tried to count them once – and cold, but nonetheless enthralling. Like splinters of light, suspended in the blackest darkness. And the Moon!
   Sierra shivered.

   She didn't really understand why. She knew, they were the chosen people of the Great Lady, the greatest race of the greatest race of creatures on the planet. The Jyraneth Clan. Nothing was greater than they. But when she looked at the night sky...
   Why did she feel so small?

   "Of course I feel small." she whispered to herself. She was small. Everyone knew it. And yet...the stars made her dream, too. And dreams were rare for Sierra.
   She wondered if the Great Lady ever looked at the night sky. What did she feel? Did she shiver? Did she dream?
   What did she dream about?

   She wondered, and saw her own face reflected by the pale moonlight, framed in the glass...

   Seth gasped. His hand thrust out for the light, fumbling, while her swing out his legs and threw back the sheets.
   "That face!" he said, breathing hard. He stared at the rising moon outside, cut into slivers by the tree in his backyard.
   
   "I recognize that face!"

   *   *   *

   Keaton awoke, cursing. Ever since she met that fucking old man...

   "Goddamit!" she yelled, her chest already getting tight. She spent as much time as possibly trying to forget about all that...shit, and now she cant close her eyes without having dreams about them?
   I thought I was over this...

   'Mistress?'

   Xianxi. She'd woken him. Irrational anger boiled up inside her and spilled out.
   "Why am I having these goddam dreams, Xianxi?" she said, voice rough with sleep.
   'I do not know, my mistress-"
   "Why the fuck not?" she snarled. Xianxi fell silent.

   Apparently the familiar was aware of his mistresses' irrationality. The bedroom was dark and silent for a good minute or so. Keaton felt her shield of anger fragment, the fear beneath it cracking through.
   "I'm sorry." she said. "Come here, Xianxi."

   Though the silence continued, she knew that the summoned familiar was floating through the air from across the room, so she barely flinched when she felt his touch. She pulled the Aci closer, wrapping her arms around it like a giant, semi-demonic teddy bear.
   She felt a little better.

   'It's that fucking old man.' she thought. 'He fucking did something to me...'

   She remembered dreaming about Jasmine's death, something she'd thought long-buried in her mind.
   "I'll fucking kill him for this."

   * * *

   Seth spent his afternoon as he often did – sitting in his back yard gardening. His knee was a problem, but even the pain it caused him didn't negate the enjoyment he got from the activity. He grew vegetables, some of them actually tasty, flowers, or whatever struck his fancy. The soil and climate were terrible for growing things, but that just added to the satisfaction of success. It wasn't as if he was doing anything else, anyway...

   Right now, though, he was drinking a pot of tea, sitting in the shade beneath his single tree. The leaves rustled loudly above him, green and waxy and healthy. The fact that he's managed to nurse it back to health was another source of pride for him.
   He drank his tea, until he heard something crash into the bushes behind him. He twisted his head back, eyes narrowed.
   Who the hell is hopping my fence? Especially into my desert sage!

   The appearance of the girl in his dream wasn't entirely unexpected, when he thought about it. The tea still tumbled from his hand. He grabbed his cane, and leaning on it heavily, stood.
   "What-"

   She ran for him. Seth noticed the oversized morningstar in her hands. His own hands twisted on his cane.

   She telegraphed the fist blow loudly, winding up powerfully to the right. She obviously thought him a weak old man. She was right, really. Seth rushed into the blow and past her, the girl's swing hitting nothing but air. The bottom of his cane fell away, the wood clattering to the ground and revealing a long, glittering blade. He twisted to stab, and felt a blinding pain in his knee, tripping him. He tumbled to the ground.
   And felt another blinding pain in his chest. The blade, coated in a paralytic, clattered uselessly away.

   One arm slid under the grass and clutched his heart, his body reflexively tensed. His breathing turned haggard, and he tried to catch his breath, but couldn't quite...
   He could hear heavy bootfalls behind him. He managed to roll onto his back.

   "I-" he gapsed, another blinding pain passing throug his chest. The jackal above him just hefted her morningstar, cocking an eyebrow.
   "I saw you." he said finally. "In the glass. I saw-"

   Keaton paused, remembering her dream from last night. He...was also dreaming? That was impossible. She hefted her mace again.
   He was probably just talking about last time, when he saw her.

   "I...ah. No. Not you."

   Darkness took Seth.

   *   *   *

   
   Seth opened his eyes.

   Room 353, First Regional Medical Center. He could tell by the view, even in the dark. It was terrible, a bunch of roofs and gravel.
   He was alive.

   And hadn't dreamed about anything. Before he could think further, though, he saw that face again. Reflected in the glass, amongst the stars.