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]

[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?

[firstsoldier]

It does. A shameful thing. We are not beasts.

[The war between foreign instinct and the reason and control required since he was a small child is endless, merely easier when in a more human shape. It never really went away but like this, even the idea of a meal is an incredible temptation.

More of one than he can actually resist; Sephiroth might refuse to follow changed biology that demanded a carnivore's diet, but like this, concerns such as morality and not being a monster were distinctly harder to care about. Nothing's changed, and yet the idea isn't a revolting one. He should. The evening is early yet.]

It's best to ... not think about it.

[But the mostly black creature is already getting back to its feet with languid, easy grace, turning from the convoy with a low, interested rumble. Blugu were plentiful but annoyingly spiky, but there were always other things near the water's edges. He'll just have to find it.]

[bufudine]

[Strange.

With Sephiroth's poise and cool, collected mannerisms, Serph did not expect that Sephiroth would reject the idea of eating monsters so strongly. If one must devour, it is only a function of the body's needs to survive. If one does not feed the body, then both mind and body deteriorates.

Perhaps his next words may sound familiar; when Serph had left the realm of dreams and returned to the land of the waking, he could still recall snatches of his conversation with Sephiroth in both Nirvanas.]

When a monstrous body requires a monstrous diet, what separates us from the monsters is how we choose to inflict the price of our ongoing survival.

[He keeps his gaze on Sephiroth, even as he begins to turn away.]

There is no shame in choosing to survive.

[firstsoldier]

[Hypocrisy is one of his strong suits. While he felt strongly that others should be judged by their actions and not by their species, willing to extend that mercy without hesitation once he was sure they weren't about to go berserk, for himself.. there was no such leniency. It preyed upon fears he'd thought he'd overcome years ago.

He couldn't pretend anymore, not when he had fangs and claws to go with the eyes that had always been strange. And he was so hungry, stubbornly sticking to a diet he could no longer make use of. The idea of eating things that were once people was revolting. And also terribly alluring. The rest of him knew what he had to eat; it needed to be meat, and it was best fresh.]

Isn't there?

[He knows his own words. That's a grace he can extend to Serph, so obviously still a man for all that he's changed. Rational, clearheaded, reasonable. He wasn't, anymore. Expressions are difficult on a creature with few facial muscles to speak of, but it seems to be an unwelcome topic.

Scaled, inhuman hands are studied with one eye, head tilted birdlike as long talons are flexed slowly.]

I am what I have been raised to destroy. I must look like one. I refuse to act like one.