Radio audio, evening.

[firstsoldier]

[It's that guy again! He still sounds pleasant at least.]

I wish to make a suggestion that we find ways to make ourselves... visibly identifiable even when in monstrous forms, as members of the convoy and thus ideally not a marauding wild beast even if we are acting like one. Something beyond our often hidden sigils, that an unthinking creature is unlikely to imitate. What exactly, I am open to recommendations for. I suspect friend-or-foe ID chips might be beyond what this place is capable of.

[The rest sounds extremely reluctant.]

I don't have as much control of the ... thing ... I become as I would like, and though I am reasonably sure I can keep from doing serious intentional harm to allies, I can't guarantee my behavior might not match that of a feral creature and thus seem to be a viable target for hunting. Especially as it seems intent on establishing a ... pecking order, and aggressively.

... I suspect I'm not the only one who has such concerns. These changes are uncomfortably unpredictable.

Comments

[firstsoldier]

[Way too quickly, the second part is addressed first.]

No. I am adequately fed.

[That's probably not true.]

Another suggested sports jerseys; those would qualify I think. He prefers blue, the right shade should be visible from a distance. Friendship bracelets I fear are easily missed by most after ... two dozen feet or so.

[bufudine]

...What's a sports jersey?

[What's a friendship bracelet for that matter? Though at least the 'bracelet' part probably means that it would be difficult to see.]

[firstsoldier]

[A pause, then:]

Do you know what a sport is?

[bufudine]

[There's a pause in return as Serph waits to see if some hidden memory will bubble up.]

No.

[firstsoldier]

[Best to start with an outline then. Not everyone was from a world that bothered with mass recreational entertainment. He takes a deep breath.]

A sport is a non-lethal and often heavily regulated physical competition between two teams or more of people, with the goal of entertainment for watchers. Teams must be identifiable at a distance for favorites to be cheered on by those same watchers, and often wear sleeveless colored tunics called 'sports jerseys'.

[Sports have their place but he can't ever be bothered with them.]

Everyone on a given team wears the same colors, but are differently numbered. If you see a white-shirted person with number 11 on them, they will have number 11 and be in a white shirt in every competition, so you can keep watching a favorite team member more than the rest. People get so caught up being enthusiastic for the team they like that riots and violence can and does break out when they lose. Or win, for that matter.

[bufudine]

[Serph listens in rapt attention. That... actually sounds quite interesting. Non-lethal physical competition? If there is non-violent alternative to combat that scratches the same itch, the same satisfaction, that fighting provides, sports sounds exactly like it.

...Though the tail end of Sephiroth's explanation dampens his enthusiasm for the idea just a little.

Honestly, the idea of sports jerseys sound a lot like Tribal colours. Things could have been much different if the Junkyard had been made for sport instead of combat...]

It's a sound idea. The numbers would be irrelevant but colour worn on the torso would be easily spotted.

The Junkyard made for sports instead would be FIFA with cannibalism.

[firstsoldier]

[Sports fans going absolutely bonkers whether their team wins or loses has caused some issues in the slums more than once. He didn't get it, but he also didn't follow sports closely.]

Indeed. So far, blue has been suggested, but possibly not a very specific shade of blue so it doesn't match another's ... 'signature color'. I do not know where I will find such a jersey capable of actually fitting on the .. other form I take, but matching color should be enough for most purposes.

the losing team gets eaten

[bufudine]

With our limited resources, consistent shades may be impossible.

[So... "good enough" may have to do.]

Can you describe your other form?

A new form of game day bbq

[firstsoldier]

Mmm. Close is good enough for many things, it should be for that too so long as everyone recognizes it.

[If blue was picked and everyone was in some shade from pastel to royal, it would still all at least BE blue. Unexpected monsters wearing blue clothing should at least give a pause.]

.. like one of the beasts in the convoy's list of threats called a 'levikron', but bigger, heavier and more reptilian in places. Predominantly dark in color. [A pause, then he adds after a with bitter humor,] Big teeth and claws.

[bufudine]

[Hm. It sounds like...]

It's a full transformation? That's unusual.

[There aren't many who have one, as far as he knows. Akechi already has changed quite drastically but he did mention having transformed into another beast once. The only others he can think of are Jack and John... and V, when they were still travelling with them. What was commonplace in the Junkyard is rather rare in Revan, one of the few things vastly different.]

Can you show it to me? I can help you with controlling it.

[firstsoldier]

Is it?

[A rhetorical question, he doesn't expect an answer to it. At least he more or less recognized one part of the creature he became, it'd somehow be worse otherwise.

Deliberately showing others though, when he went out of his way to hide what he could..

Sephiroth's reasonably sure it's not overly dangerous, he wasn't inclined yet to see anyone of the convoy as prey. But then more than Vincent would know just how tenuously reason controls instinct, and that sat terribly uncomfortably.]

... Very well. When?

[bufudine]

If you don't have other business to attend to, when the Convoy stops for the day. My vehicle is the bright orange pickup flanking it. I'll wait for you.

because easier, network -> action

[firstsoldier]

Simple enough to find. I will see you then.

[Which leads to the only change in his routine throughout the day, putting on something he doesn't mind getting destroyed just in case. Still black.

Finding a bright orange Hilux isn't very difficult at all, at least, and it's there he heads, showing currently few signs of the changes that plague others. They're subtle, but there are a few; different teeth, actual short claws, a scattering of scales like metallic glitter here and there. But nothing like Serph himself has had.]

[bufudine]

[Serph only looks marginally different; where there were once feathers over his torso, shimmering blue scales replace them. Carapace similar to his demon trail the lines of his arms.

As Sephiroth approaches, Serph nods in greeting. He can see those changes are mild, almost non-existant, but the same could be said for John, who appears to have almost none at all.

Appears.]

Let's move further from the Convoy. Then show me.

[Since Sephiroth has mentioned not having as much control as he'd like.]

[firstsoldier]

[He's beginning to recognize the difference between temporary changes and permanent ones; the theme of most mishaps recently seem to be fish themed, so the array of blue scales fits the pattern.

Part of him can't help but wonder what else there might be. Gills?]

As you wish.

[Acquiescence is easy enough, and the borders to the convoy's reach isn't going to be that far on foot, and his pace is quick, only making sure Serph is keeping up easily. The stride of someone nearly seven feet tall is a bit different than someone a foot shorter.]

I ... shouldn't attempt to kill you. [Is that reassuring? A 'shouldn't'?] Please avoid drawing blood if possible, no promises can be made then.

[bufudine]

[Serph can keep up fine, though his shorter stride means breaking out into an easy jog for him.

Fortunately, Serph doesn't need things like reassurance when it comes to monsters and demons. But he silently notes the warning about blood.]

I'm always armed. Go ahead.

I have no suitabel icons.

[firstsoldier]

[The sigh from the taller gray haired man is quiet, but has a sound of relief to it. Armed is better than nothing, and if even that failed, Serph has wings. Surely they can be used.

It isn't til he's on the other side of the barrier that he stops, though it's not likely going to HELP if anything goes wrong, Drifters seemed to get through it just fine. The idea of deliberately becoming a monster doesn't sit well at all, but it like so much else is shoved aside. Sephiroth changing forms doesn't look like the way it does for an avatar tuner, he's briefly engulfed in a roiling cloud of purplish black, and when it clears, the thing left standing there is in no way human.

But it does have some vague similarities to levikrons, which frequented the plains, from the violently purple and fuchsia crest, long ears, approximate body-plan and heavy sturdy forelimbs though considerably larger and shaggier.

The body language is the same too, as the chimera reorients sharply on Serph and draws itself upright with a rumbly hiss, claws flexed to show but not use their wicked points, much the same way the larger monsters in a flock might to pressure and intimidate its own kind.

Pauses.

And shakes itself once hard like a wet dog before very, very carefully settles into a crouch, handlike forelimbs and long saurian talons pinned beneath itself, making attack difficult but not impossible. Sephiroth can still think, it's just harder when he's so certain the best thing to do is immediately establish a proper hierarchy and enforce it. But that's wrong, isn't it?]

[bufudine]

[Serph isn't so foolish as to approach, but he does observe the transformation, unflinching as Sephiroth initially draws himself up to his full size before backing down.

Sephiroth really does look remarkably similar to the creatures on the plains. Easy enough to be mistaken for one, especially if he were to lose his human faculties. He's the first one to look so similar to the local monsters, though given that some of the monsters looked the same as demons, he ought to have known it was only a matter of time.]

Can you speak while like this?

[Or is he only able to communicate via charades... whatever that is. Non-verbal forms of communication.]

[firstsoldier]

[Nothing of Serph's bearing suggests challenge, and there's nothing immediately near that needs defending; slowly he works on strangling down all the impulses and instincts that made this unpleasant at best.

It's hard. Especially as there's the smell of other distant monsters on the night wind, painfully reminding him that the meals he bothered with were simply insufficient now.]

... Yes. Not easily.

[It's rough and slurred, but recognizable. Conflict between syrinx and larynx, different ways of making sounds. And the teeth on display when he grimaces probably doesn't help, those are distinctly feline teeth in a strangely flexible reptilian muzzle. Trying to speak like a human just isn't going to work right.]

I still have my mind. For now.

[Just not human thoughts or habits. Sephiroth rarely looked at anyone directly, but like this, Serph's watched with an unblinking, assessing stare.]

[bufudine]

[Serph matches the watchful gaze with his own calm one.]

But blood makes it difficult to keep control?

[He knows all too well how blood whets his demon's alreadly insatiable appetite. How the scent of it has Varuna rattling in the cage of his body, the vision of teeth sinking into warm flesh crystal clear in his mind's eye. As hunger grows, so too does the strength to resist it wane.

Carefully, he watches Sephiroth's reaction to his following question.]

Does the thought of eating other monsters sound good?