singillatim | you're a drifter, a shapeshifter

Entry tags:

you're a drifter, a shapeshifter

Who: Vasiliy (

m1895) + assorted others!
What: Non-event happenings.
When: Throughout July.
Where: At the homestead, around Milton & Lakeside.

Content Warnings: See individual toplevels!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It clutches his shirt, like a lemur or some sort of primate or... a small child. Every new thing it does leaves him stunned, and this is no exception; there's a bizarre, utterly unprecedented closeness to its holding onto him for what can only be understood to be security, even if he's less than thrilled about the feeling of its smooth, increasingly cool tail wrapping around his arm like a constrictor snake.

The alien shifts in his arms as he carefully crosses the living room rug, and it's shrinking, flattening its hood. It's getting cold, he assumes. Better get it in front of the fire soon.

So he does, setting it down some two feet away from the fireplace grill, but he's uneasy about it—there's no fire in space, and it might not understand that the open flames can hurt it.

How to make it understand that?

He's silent for a moment, brows furrowed with thought, then decides upon demonstrating: maybe, like a primate, it's also capable of learning by example. So he holds his hand almost close enough to touch the grate and makes a show of grimacing and quickly pulling his hand back, as if burnt, and hopes that sends the message clearly enough. ]

[ When the man lowers it to the floor, the alien relinquishes its grasp on him willingly — though slowly, tail uncurling from Vasiliy's arm and coiling around itself as it sits there near the source of heat, staring in stunned curiosity. It still can't identify what the thing is, but it becomes immediately clear that it truly is no living, organic entity. It's.... devoid of life, despite its warmth.

It's a good thing Vasiliy does what he does next, as the creature's inquisitive drive to learn and adapt might indeed have it drawing closer to that source of warmth and light. After all, it's never known warmth to be painful. Light, yes — flashing too bright, hurtful. But not this sort of softly glowing, flickering thing before it now. Perhaps such heat would be soothing, the way its host's body is, or the heating pads that have sometimes been used to help lull it when it's fitful. Or the pair of softly-glowing hands that someone placed upon it once here.

But the man's moving his arm out towards the warm thing, and the alien stares, watching with fixed attention. Then— his features contort, he yanks his arm back. The alien knows what humans look like when they're in pain, too, and it immediately understands that such a display exhibits this.

Its body vibrates with a rush of alarm, and it emits a trill, anxious in response to Vasiliy's reaction. Tensing down to the ground, staring at the fireplace to see if it might attack in retaliation — but it stays stagnant, still, and after several long minutes, the alien moves from its defensive position, but only so that it can lie down on its side, exposing its underbelly to the fireplace. From a safe distance, and cautiously — but the warmth does feel good, and it knows it needs to recharge some lost energy. So it will lie there for a while like a cat, not too close to the fireplace (closer to Vasiliy than anything, head mere inches from where he lingers.)

Just a brief rest, it will be on the move again soon enough... ]

[ It feels as though he can anticipate no new behavior from the alien any better than the last, always catching him off-guard, and this is certainly no exception. Perhaps he's seeing it for what it is for the first time: almost catlike, once it's sprouted hind legs, and about the same size. It lies down and basks like a cat in a windowsill, seemingly entirely unconcerned with his presence, and he's stunned anew: it really doesn't fear him at all now, it would seem, and its behavior is familiar to him in his knowledge of the animals of earth.

A cat, a dog. It's acting almost... domesticated. A raccoon or weasel or iguana brought in freshly from the wild wouldn't be nearly this calm around him, nor would it just lie down like this, and again, he's not sure what to do with that thought.

So he just...addresses it, slowly crouching down into a squat. ]

Do you like that? Fire.

[ Even if it can't comprehend what the man says, it once again understands he speaks to it, and emits a low vibrating hum that travels down its throat as it lies there on the floor for a while longer. It's hard and flat, not an ideal place to settle down, and it won't for long, but for the moment... it's simply enjoying warming its body up near this strange source of heat.

Strange, potentially painful, but as long as it stays a safe distance away (and the man is there to keep protecting it), it isn't afraid.

After a bit, the creature seems content, and its energy is returning. It finally moves again, lifting itself from the floorboards and seeming to want to continue its journey across the living room. Now it's ready to properly explore. And now it's moving a bit faster, rejuvenated, walking more than crawling. And it's curious by everything — tentative but enthusiastic as it examines various items. Nothing else seems to emit heat the way the fireplace does, so it's not as cautious, and actually reaches out to grasp a few objects on its way.

One of Konstantin's field guides.... the alien pats the surface of the little booklet, before deciding it's not very interesting and letting go of it. Then one of their slippers, which it holds in its hands, turning over, sticking its head into the hole — it decides to keep this particular item for a while, dragging the slipper with it as it moves around.

....Only to abruptly let go of it halfway to the sofa, in favour of something else. A small twig that must have come in on someone's clothing, but it's nothing the alien has ever seen before, and it can smell outside on the object, and it's clicking excitedly as its digits grasp the skinny thing, turning it around and around.

And then it puts its mouth on the stick, as though to taste it... ]

Edited 2024-08-10 05:04 (UTC)

[ O-oh, it's able to move pretty fast once it's energized, isn't it. Vasiliy can't help but to feel a momentary surge of alarm, a single exclamation point in his brain as the alien suddenly picks up its pace, grabbing this and that only to se the objects down somewhere else as soon as a new one catches its attention.

It's like... a dog, a small child. It grabs a slipper like a dog, and then a stick.

This has been such a strange night already. He doesn't know what to make of this, or the implications of Kostya wanting it out so desperately he'd surely do anything if he could—in the back of his mind, there's a split second in which he feels a little guilty, like it's traitorous to maybe enjoy his interactions with the little creature, somewhat. He should be an impartial monitor, just making sure that it doesn't escape or hurt itself and hurt Kostya as a result.

Instead, as he briskly follows behind the alien as though connected by the handle of an invisible leash, he feels a bit like one of those nature scientists who spend years living among the wild animals, cataloguing their every behavior and feeling. It's showing him part of its world, it's welcoming him into whatever... hierarchy it had, back home. It's a dizzying thought nothing in life has prepared him for. ]

Do you like to chew, Sput'ka?

[ He asks, lowly, without much thought—little tagalong, in his own language. ]

[ The twig doesn't taste particularly appetising, and the alien's giving quiet little rumbly noises, considering flinging it away completely, but the texture is new, and interesting, and it starts to think... maybe it does like to chew.

So it keeps the thing in its mouth as it resumes its journey across the living room, needle-like teeth gnawing and sucking on it as it moves. This is a research mission — exploring, gathering data.... it's all very important and very severe.

It begins to near the little sitting area where Vasiliy sees patients, poking around a few things there. Intriguing.... Catching the metallic glint of his stethoscope where it's been neatly curled up and set into place, the alien pokes its head up curiously, letting go of its twig so that its senses can focus on this new object instead. As it noses the thing, it uncoils startlingly quickly, and falls the short distance to the wooden floors. The clatter it makes isn't particularly loud, but the alien is sent into a frenzy by the suddenness of it all, an interesting, shiny unknown at once becoming a frightening tool that seemed poised to attack...

The creature immediately scrambles away from it, digits scraping as it finds traction and then bolts — right back to Vasiliy. Trembling and making fretful sounds, it hides behind his legs, curling up there as though to make itself smaller and unseen. That was very scary, honestly.... ]

[ It happens in an instant, before Vasiliy can anticipate and respond—the alien stretches out its neck to examine his stethoscope, presumably drawn in by the metal's shine, then noses it, at which point it comes crashing down onto the floor. The creature bolts directly towards him, scrabbling on the smooth floor, clearly frantic, and—curls up behind him, like it's hiding.

There's no other interpretation, as outlandish as it is, than it finding a sense of safety in him. Than it trusting him, and, in light of that revelation, it's hard not to feel... some degree of fondness for the being that has so chosen to invest its trust in him. He feels similarly compelled to help it. ]

It's okay. It's okay.

[ It (probably?) doesn't understand human speech, but he already knows it understands tone, so that's what he focuses on, keeping his voice low and soft as he addresses the creature at his legs. ]

It's just my stethoscope? See? All safe.

[ The creature barely knows what it is to be soothed by one of these strange species it has found itself suddenly surrounded by. ...But it did happen, once or twice, in the form of Tatiana reaching out to it. A cautious hand, a step closer, a song sung, shaky and soft. It does know that humans are capable of this, too.

'It's okay. It's okay.' No, it can't understand those words, but— it can feel them.

After a few moments, the creature peeks around Vasiliy's leg, staring in the direction of the fallen item, now categorised — (shiny and alluring, but unexpectedly flexible. Intimidating)

Still, its curiosity is a pressing thing, and it can tell that the object isn't alive. Now that it's on the floor, it's completely still again, unmoving. So after a few cautious moments, the alien ventures forth again, emboldened by the man's soothing words, though it keeps low to the ground, almost as though stalking. Creeping its way closer, it stops a good safe foot or so away from the stethoscope, and sits there.

Then it turns its head back to look at Vasiliy, again with something almost expectant. Show?? The man can show it this item, it's safe if it's in his hands; the alien's not quite ready to risk touching it directly, just yet. ]

[ Every new action from the creature is one he couldn't have expected based on the last, or so he feels. Still rather stunned by its sudden scramble to seek shelter—comfort?—behind him, he then watches as the alien creeps forward, belly brushing the ground as it... stalks the new object, like a cat approaching a mouse (or any flicker of movement, really).

But it never swats at the stethoscope like a cat would its prey, or makes any physical contact in general. Instead it looks over his shoulder at him, very deliberately, like a dog in a movie asking someone to... follow it, or help. This night just keeps getting more and more bizarre, and the entire encounter feels almost dreamlike. ]

Do you want me to... come over there? Okay.

[ Slowly, Vasiliy approaches it again—clearly, it's okay with him being in its space now, but it still comes with reflex, being in the presence of something that could kill him as easily as a tiger if it wanted to. He swallows when he realizes that he'll have to crouch down right beside the thing to pick the instrument up and demonstrate that it's nothing to be afraid of—he'll be vulnerable, posed like that, unable to immediately flee if this goes south. He might pick it up and suddenly have the alien decide that he's a threat and attack him when it hasn't before.

Vasiliy stands there for a moment, weighing his options, and for reasons he doesn't fully understand, he shakily lowers himself until he's in a flat-footed squat, his face and all of its vulnerable points so much closer to the creature's deceptively innocent maw and the rows of teeth he knows are hidden behind it. It can only be beneficial to keep establishing trust, right? Maybe they can... tame it.

What does it say that he's having an easier time with an alien than Mukhtar—?... ]

Easy, [ he whispers, keeping his voice low as he slowly reaches toward its forked arms. ] I'm going to pick it up now.

[ And he does, holding the chestpiece with his other hand so nothing swings, sloely turning it this way and that in front of the alien's eight eyes. ]

See? Nothing to be afraid of. Stethoscope.

[ Each gesture of communication that is then reciprocated only serves to strengthen the trust the alien does feel in the man — and continues to be a learning experience all in one. It tilts its head expectantly to him, and he comes; the man understands what it wants.

The frustration that the creature has continuously felt towards this species is diminishing in the face of Vasiliy — then again, it's already registered him as an atypical type of "human", if he even is that. Whatever he is, the alien feels much more comfortable around him than with anyone else it's ever encountered.

It waits, patiently, as Vasiliy crouches down close and so carefully takes the object to display it safely in his own grasp, as if this is exactly what the alien was waiting for. Though it's never seen such tools with its own eyes before, it has felt them from inside Konstantin, poked and prodded in a variety of ways.

Its eyes glitter as it watches, head moving to follow as Vasiliy turns the objects, transfixed... and emboldened by his demonstration (and presence... The man will protect it if the item starts acting up again). Giving a quiet, curious chitter, it sits back a bit on its back legs — still not fully formed but enough to support itself that way, and reaches up, tips of its digits patting experimentally against the cool surface of the item. Woah... ]

[ Its sound can only be described as a chitter— the sort of sound a squirrel might make, accompanied by tilting its head this way and that, sitting back on its haunches like a bear. And then it... reaches out, and Vasiliy's freezing, breath caught in his throat, careful not to make any sudden movements.

The creature—the alien, he reminds himself; he's interfacing quietly and calmly with a real extra-terrestrial species, something no other human except for the scientists back at the facility Konstantin came from has ever seen—touches the smooth cool metal with its fingerpads, which look almost like a gecko's up close. ]

Do you... want that? Want to look at it?

[ Slowly, he lowers it to be more within the alien's reach, setting it down on the floor and removing his hands as though to turn it over to his strange charge. ]

[ When the man lowers the object to the floor before it, the alien hesitates only a moment before leaning over, digits continuing to pat against the object, probing its surface gently. A very intriguing thing to inspect.... Smooth and cold, unyielding to the touch — hard.

At least, some of it is; as it continues to examine the rest, it finds that the long, thin part is different. Very interesting indeed.... It lifts its head into the air, bobbing it slightly as it allows its hands to do all the exploring, not really needing to look at the item — so allowing its eyes to sweep upwards, staring at the ceiling instead. Noticing things that it hadn't before — chips in wooden beams, jagged lines and patterns. This cabin is full of new things to see and touch and smell.

This exploration will take awhile, several long minutes. The creature's also still able to feel warmth emanating from the fireplace not too far away, and steadily finds itself recharged by that warmth. When it finally sets the item down to resume its journey, it's freshly invigorated, and once again emboldened...

This time, it doesn't hesitate to approach foreign objects, moving over to touch things, placing its hands on various items around the household, before it moves on to other ones. It moves slowly, making it easy for its babysitter to follow along behind it, taking its time. And it seems to be enjoying itself, enthused and curious, tail flicking behind it as it chitters quietly to itself, talkative.

After some time of this, it's explored most corners of the home. Some nooks and crannies will have to wait for another evening; it's beginning to get a bit tired.

But it's as the creature is shuffling along behind the sofa that it notices something just beneath, something new and small: a solitary can tab.

Gurgling quietly with intrigue, the alien reaches for this item, drawing it close. There's not much to sniff, here; the item has no real smell or sensation to it. But it's pretty, silver and shiny, with two holes. It's also very charming, small enough for the alien to comfortably hold in its hands. Though the creature can infer no immediate use for such a thing, it seems important. It surely is, to these humans, if it was to be found under the sofa. Maybe it's something they've lost?

Clutching the tab to its chest with one arm while the other turns itself around and pulls itself towards Vasiliy, the alien then offers the little treasure up to him. A gift: reciprocation. ]

[ A can tab. There passes a split second in which Vasiliy thinks that the creature might be handing the item to him (held so delicately in its dextrous hands, like a primate's and offered to him like a child would—) with the desire for him to demonstrate its use, its purpose to humans. But it doesn't present it like it did the stethoscope, doesn't give him that same pointed look.

A gift.

This extra-terrestrial being, one which has killed, which could kill him, which is causing his dearest friend so much grief... is offering him a gift.

It's the most surreal this situation has felt since it began. With one shaking hand, Vasiliy cautiously accepts the offering with a soft 'Thank you' — but a moment later, it occurs to him that the alien doesn't understand human language, only tone and maybe facial expressions. He should make it clear that he's pleased by this overture of friendship, to encourage it to continue to be... non-hostile. Almost tame.

So he plasters on a bright, seemingly genuine smile and makes eye contact with the largest and most central of its eight black eyes. ]

Thank you, Sput'ka!

[ Indeed, there's no look of expectation as it offers the item up to the man — simply holding it out — take this....

Such a small, simple, and pretty item can't be any sort of tool. It must just be treasure — a concept the alien has minimal experience with, but some all the same. Like the little doll that its host's heart pulses harder for, each fluctuation in his hormone levels suggesting that the item has meaning to him. The alien feels drawn to it, too. There are a few other things: the jar, which did have a use, storing sustenance in, but afterwards... the alien found itself intrigued by the shape and feeling of the thing itself.

It's learning that there are such treasures as these. Interesting, smooth, shiny items. Things that roll or make sounds. Ordinarily, it might be inclined to keep this particular little treasure for itself, but— no, no it wants to give him something, recognising that the man has protected and helped it. It wants to express "affection", or whatever imitation or concept of the emotion it's capable of — it wants to please him.

And his response is striking. The alien stares, for the first time in its life being met directly with such a display aimed right at it — brightening features, a lilted, pleased, and an enthused tone that has its frill lifting attentively.

Sput'ka, there's that word again; it's heard the man say it twice by now, and it tilts its head curiously. "Sput'ka" must be a good word. A positive one. The man approves of this treasure, seems happy by it. The alien gives a soft, almost thoughtful croaking sound, tail languidly swishing, satisfied but also stimulated, recognising the significance of connection with another intelligent species. Of interacting with someone like it has with the man tonight, to experience back-and-forth, to converse with touch and the occasional verbal exchange.

After all of this it's becoming more and more tired, but it's a much better sort of tired than times in the past — exhausted from the terror of Aurora nights or the howls of wolves in the distance. There's none of that tonight.

Slowly, the thing lowers itself to the floorboards, laid out on its side as though taking a little rest. It's decided that yes, it very much likes the rest of the cabin beyond the bedroom door... ]

Edited 2024-10-26 19:40 (UTC)

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you're a drifter, a shapeshifter

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