#type:fic

[yugantaram]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[elementxls-archived]

Transformations - v3.5

A young girl, barely 10 years old. An orphan, with no memory of a family.

A man, promising a mother and father, a home, the education she clearly was deserving of.

A plane ride, lasting hours. Other children, heading to the same place.

There is no home. Instead, a facility. An experiment.

Suppression of emotions.

Starting small, hiding feelings about minor disappointments.

Growing gradually but steadily. Not batting an eye when classmates are removed.

Time passes, unmarked. Soon, two remain. Teenagers now. They stare at each other; no food, no water, no sleep, nothing else, until there is a victor. The one who doesn’t react, who doesn’t betray weakness, will survive.

In the 25th hour, she shoots her opponent a look. The end comes within minutes, coursing through her veins. A poison which should hurt, but she's beyond feeling. “Such a pity,” say the voices around her as the world turns to darkness. “She showed such promise.”

But they were wrong. The look wasn't one of desperation, as they assumed it must be. What else was there to say?

The look said, I'm letting you win.

It said, I don't see the point anymore.

It said, I'm bored of this.

Without even knowing, they gave her what she wanted.

For a time, there was nothing, and it was a relief.

But then, a connection. Another.

Her mind found its way back together. She'd been stripped bare by those running the experiment; to rebuild herself was simple by now, no more than a puzzle to solve; she'd been through so many that she didn't question another.

But she lacked… something. She didn't know what it was. She didn't know she'd been missing it for years. She only knew that without it, she would come apart again.

Perhaps this had happened to her before. Perhaps it was always happening, a constant loop of winding and unwinding.

Until she found... not what she lacked, but a substitute. Information was quantified and sent around the world instantly; could she not do the same herself?

She broke herself down, becoming a string of code, a blip of programming. A being of pure data, existing everywhere and nowhere across cyberspace.

A being who was so detached that she didn't even realize she had left her humanity behind long ago.

[elementxls-archived]

Origins - The Spectres

While the other spirits shaped the world and acquired their emissaries, one spirit stayed behind the scenes and watched. It had no need to involve itself in this creation, for it was above it, beyond it, just as it was beyond the other spirits. It was the sum of all the others, of all things, of all knowledge.

Nor did it have a need for mortals to help carry out its will, for it had no will, it simply… was. And if it had cared enough to be prideful, it would have scoffed at the other spirits of the elements, reaching out for mortal assistance. It did not have to resort to such measures, because all who lived and died joined with it in the end. Upon death, the soul might carry on elsewhere, but all that a being had known or thought would be released, drifting up into the aether and becoming a part of this entity.

The being they once were no longer existed; all that was left were facts and information, floating freely. Sometimes, these thoughts would find each other, would join together into the semblance of what they had once been. And those still living would see, and would call them ghosts or phantoms. But they were echoes of what they once were, an empty shell, one that no longer had anything connecting it to life. With nothing to grasp onto, the pieces would soon separate again, floating once more in a void of everything.

...with very few exceptions.

[elementxls-archived]

Memories - Noeul

My head hurts.

I don't remember getting into bed, but that's where I wake up, gasping for breath. Why is it so hard to breathe? I feel like a fish out of water.

An apt comparison.

“How so?”

“Hm?” My mother, dozing in a chair nearby, stirs. “What was that, dear?”

“N-Nothing,” I stammer. “I think I was dreaming.”

You know you weren't, I hear, even as my mother smiles and reaches out to brush some hair out of my face. And I smile back, even while breathing as deeply as possible and trying not to show it, even while the inside of my head feels too tight. But that's normal, right? I just never really noticed it before.

I tell my mother I need to use the bathroom, and she nods and lets me go, with only minimal protest when I say I'll be fine alone. I just want to freshen up, maybe splash some water on my face, but once I'm in there, I think that maybe a shower will help me feel better after the events of the day. Something happened today, right? I feel like I should be shaken by it, even though I can’t remember what it was. But when I turn the water on, that all fades. I can finally breathe again.

I don't know how long I'm there. I lose all track of time, all sense of anything else except the feeling of relief, until there's a soft knock on the door, followed by my mother peeking in, saying I've been a while and asking if I'm alright. When I meet her eyes, I see a face full of worry, and slowly, I realize why: I've been sitting here under the spray of water fully dressed. It dawns on me, finally, that this isn't normal. None of it is.

It is now, says the same voice from before. It wasn't a dream. I remember now. I almost drowned. But someone saved me. This isn't the same voice as my rescuer, but it reminds me of that, somehow. I wrap my arms tighter around myself. Am I cold? Scared? Trying to keep this voice from reaching the surface? I don't even know. But now that I'm aware of it, it begins explaining that it's a storm, and I'm its host, its carrier, that this is what I agreed to in order to live, that now I'm a servant of the water itself, and my body is changing accordingly. And even though I'm aware of my mother wrapping me in towels, drying my hair and fretting over me, all I can do is listen dumbly to the disturbingly calm voice inside me, finally grasping what I've gotten myself into.

[elementxls-archived]

Transformations - Mi

The song of the forest went on through the ages - the buzz of insects, the calls of birds, the rustle of the trees, and, of course, the contributions of the Singers. It’s a song that tells of ongoing growth and vitality, causing all those who hear it to feel restored and rejuvenated - even if they don’t realize the depth of the symphony they’re listening to.

Perhaps that was why the young man found himself alone in the woods that night.

He would be the first to say that his life wasn’t that bad. The son of the head of a small company, his family wasn’t rich by any means, but they were comfortable. He had a fiancee, a marriage arranged by his parents to a woman he liked well enough. After that, the next step was to take over the company. There were certainly worse fates possible.

If only he wanted to do any of it. His passion lie in music, in singing, but his family didn’t understand. “It’s a nice hobby, but not something you can make a career out of,” they said, and he listened, because what else could he do? So he escaped to the woods now and then, to get away from it all, to have some time alone, to let the sounds of nature calm his nerves, to sing quietly to himself.

But this time, he heard a response. Through the trees… no, reverberating as though it was part of the trees. A song that told of an offer, an opportunity, a contract. Curious, he asked it to go on, hardly realizing he was singing himself, his audition begun.

Through the back and forth of a song that seemed to take only minutes yet lasted hours - or did it feel like hours but last only minutes? - the young man learned of the role of Singer, what he would expected to do, the fact that he would be leaving everyone he knew behind, the fact that there was no going back once his decision was made. When it came time to choose, he hesitated only because he felt guilty that it was such an easy choice.

By the time the words of agreement were out of his mouth, he was already changed. No longer human, he was now a part of the forest, connected to it just as it was connected to him. The life he had before already seemed far away, like a dream fading when morning comes. He didn’t mind. He was where he belonged. He was home. And, with a freedom he’d never known as a human, he began to sing life into the forest.

[elementxls-archived]

Transformations - Noeul

Noeul never thought there was anything special about her. An average kid from an average family, preparing to take exams that would probably land her in an average university. But she was happy and outgoing, with good friends, and a mother and father who taught her to relish the simple things - such as their annual vacation to Jeju Island. They could just barely afford it, and even though Noeul tried to insist she was okay skipping it, once she was a little older and realized how tight their budget was, her parents insisted it was tradition, and that the memories were one of the best things on which they could spend their small amount of spare money. And she would sigh and relent, putting on a show of annoyance before enthusiastically diving into things - figuratively and literally, for she spent every moment that she could swimming, as she had done year after year.

So no one thought there would be any trouble when she went out swimming alone. No one was watching her when a sudden cramp caused her to slip under the water. It happened too fast, her lungs filled with water before she could scream or cry out, her body instinctively struggling against the waves and leaving her unable to attract anyone’s attention.

She was on the brink of unconsciousness when she heard a voice, lapping over her like a gentle wave, a strange relief from the water dragging her down. “I can save you,” the voice said, “if you’ll help me in return.”

Noeul didn’t dare refuse - the voice was so soothing in the midst of the storm around her that she probably would have done whatever it asked, and besides, what other choice did she have? - but she didn’t know how to give her answer, not when her body was already struggling so hard to somehow breathe. But apparently, her strange benefactor knew her decision, for something inside her shifted the moment she made her choice. She stopped resisting, and the water flowed into her, becoming a part of her.

She struggled for breath as she stumbled towards the shore, the air that now filled her lungs seeming strangely fragile and light after spending what felt like an eternity beneath the surface of the waves. Even as her parents fussed over her, asking if she was alright, she knew that there was something else within her. No, not only that, but that she was changed, in some way she couldn’t yet comprehend. But yes, she assured them. She was alright. She hadn’t drowned.

Yet.

[elementxls-archived]

Transformations - William

Becoming a Messenger is typically reserved for owls in the lineage of the first to serve in that role. But there are exceptions, as was the case for William. Even before this, he was no stranger to the supernatural, having attracted the attention of a fae with his music - and, somehow, the two had quickly become inseparable.

Of course, being friends with a fae is no easy feat. She was eager to show William all the wonder that the world had to offer, all the magic he’d never seen before - often forgetting, in the process, that he wasn’t as indestructible as her. There were more than a few run-ins with creatures who wanted to harm him, or claim his soul, or kidnap him for their own. Usually, however, he managed to emerge unscathed, with the fae swearing off whatever species they had just encountered, complaining about their rudeness and seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was the one who had led William into danger into the first place. But as exhausting - and sometimes terrifying - as this was, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Which is how he found himself at a gathering of supernatural creatures, a relatively bland evening compared to some of their adventures… until he found himself whisked away while his fae friend was arguing with someone about the superiority of goats. By the time she tracked him down, he’d been bitten by the creatures that had taken him, and now lay unconscious - he would either die, or to turn into something no longer himself, and the fae could do nothing about it.

Fortunately, amidst the chaos that his life had become, the fae had also insisted he learn animal languages - and, after discovering he had a fondness for owls, she decided he should start there, even finding a barred owl, Obren, to be his companion to help him learn. And, as fate would have it, this owl was a Messenger. As soon as the fae told him the situation, Obren acted quickly, first appealing to the spirit of the air and things that fly - the one who directs all Messengers in where they should go - and then walking into William’s dream, explaining to him the offer: If he was willing to join the ranks of the Messengers, to deliver messages across the realms, it would save him.

William agreed immediately, trusting his feathered companion. In the real world, Obren bit him, acting on his behalf to activate a blood pact with the spirit of the air - one that’s already stamped into those born of that lineage, but which has to be offered and sealed for those who willfully make the choice. Immediately, the wind seemed to enter him, filling his bones and restoring him. When he awoke after a long, deep sleep, he breathed a sigh of relief that the danger was past, that he was still alive and himself. Which was correct, but not the whole story. For he was indeed himself, but he was also something more: A creature of the air.

( @lawbidden​ )

[elementxls-archived]

Origins and Transformations - Kenna, The Phoenix

The one who ruled over fire, the hot and dry places and the animals who called such realms their home, delighted in watching humans - for, just as the world has a ball of fire at its core, so, too, do people: The dreams, desires, and passions that push them forward.

One day, this spirit decided that they wanted to help humans along. As they looked over people, they found those with passions that were just beginning to bud, and sharpened them, bringing them into clearer view, providing energy and focus. A renaissance as has never been seen before or since began to unfold.

But not all were satisfied. Elsewhere, a young man kept watch over his younger sister, cursing the dropped lantern and the fire that had left her facing death. And, while the spirit of flames knew they could not save everyone hurt in this way, they also couldn't bring themself to abandon some to suffering while freely bestowing gifts on others. They would save this one, and then withdraw, bestowing neither good nor ill but leaving both to chance, as they had done before.

Her fever broke abruptly, and her brother raced to get help - and so wasn't there to see the moment when her entire body burst into flames. By the time he returned with their parents, as well as a doctor who looked like he was already prepared to deliver bad news, the young woman was sitting up, looking around, all sign of her injury gone. It was nothing short of a miracle. If anyone noticed the ash covering her bed, they decided it wasn't worth mentioning. Just as they ignored the signs that something was amiss in the coming days - her lowered tolerance towards the cold, her lingering fever, the ash residue with no apparent source, the way she was entranced by fire, any fire, when they would have thought her terrified of it.

It was when she tripped and scraped her palms on the pavement that they were witness to the small flames that crackled over her hands, leaving behind skin that looked completely unblemished. They could no longer ignore what they thought was evidence that this was not their daughter, and they cast her out. She tried to cry that they were wrong, but no tears fell from her eyes - the final proof that she wasn't human, as far as her family was concerned.

She wandered aimlessly for a time, wondering what sort of strange curse was upon her. But as she meandered from town to town, she found herself drawn towards people of passion, people who loved their work - and somehow, she always found them, no matter whether they put their passion on display or not. And, village after village, she was told by these people that she had strengthened their resolve to pursue what they loved, that she had helped them find vision and purpose, that she had lit a fire in their heart.

Through the years and the ages, as she burned away her old self to become new over and over again, she came to accept that this was her gift. But it was also, as she had first thought, a curse. She could never grow too close to anyone, or linger for too long. For the same fire that can warm a hearth will consume the house if left unchecked.