[ It is fine. Everything is fine, and Oz is fine, and he is coping perfectly well. He has been a Faunus before. He has had antlers before.
But he had been very young, then. He'd been a different man altogether. He'd still had faith; he had thought the game winnable and the war justified. He had still believed that He wanted him to save the world, and cared deeply enough to make it not only possible, but likely. A divine mission. A fated destiny.
It had been the thing to draw him up out of a low period. He'd been growing tired— he'd thought he knew what tired was, then— and it had been a blessing, to become an image of his faith. He had spread the Tale of Two Brothers. He'd told their gospel gladly.
It had been before Jinn. It had been before the Circle. It had been not long after her, and he'd thought, in his most desperate private moments, that perhaps this was his reward for turning away from her. Perhaps it was a sign. Recognition of what he'd lost, and gentle guidance toward what he was meant to be.
He does not feel that way anymore.
Now, he is merely tired. He has plans with Stanford this evening; he shall have to cancel them. That is unfortunate, given that this thing between them is still fumbling and fragile and new. But his antlers are itching like the velvet is about to shed, and he needs to simply lock himself away in his room and endure it until the whole affair passes. ]
Stanford, I'm afraid something has come up. It may be best to reschedule our plans for tonight.
(3/07) text. cw: mentions of transformation/body horror, religious trauma
But he had been very young, then. He'd been a different man altogether. He'd still had faith; he had thought the game winnable and the war justified. He had still believed that He wanted him to save the world, and cared deeply enough to make it not only possible, but likely. A divine mission. A fated destiny.
It had been the thing to draw him up out of a low period. He'd been growing tired— he'd thought he knew what tired was, then— and it had been a blessing, to become an image of his faith. He had spread the Tale of Two Brothers. He'd told their gospel gladly.
It had been before Jinn. It had been before the Circle. It had been not long after her, and he'd thought, in his most desperate private moments, that perhaps this was his reward for turning away from her. Perhaps it was a sign. Recognition of what he'd lost, and gentle guidance toward what he was meant to be.
He does not feel that way anymore.
Now, he is merely tired. He has plans with Stanford this evening; he shall have to cancel them. That is unfortunate, given that this thing between them is still fumbling and fragile and new. But his antlers are itching like the velvet is about to shed, and he needs to simply lock himself away in his room and endure it until the whole affair passes. ]
Stanford, I'm afraid something has come up. It may be best to reschedule our plans for tonight.