[ 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.
[ If there's a more disappointing message to receive right now, Ford doesn't know what it would be.
The last date had been... not bad. It had been stilted and awkward in places, marred by too-long silences and some very clumsy gestures, but still not bad. Certainly better than their first date had gone, and while that might be a low bar to clear they had still cleared it. He'd been looking forward to a third, hopefully even less awkward date. To have it canceled is... well, disappointing.
At least this doesn't seem personal. Something has come up could mean nearly anything in Deerington and few of them good. ]
That's alright. We can reschedule.
Is it something I can help with?
[ It may not be a date, but Ford's knowledge of Deerington might come in handy. ]
[ Ozpin's fingers hover over a reflexive No. But he considers.
Stanford is their local expert, and this is not the first time Ozpin has found himself betrayed by tea, or cocoa, or candy. Deerington seems to favor puzzles that have solutions. If there is actually a way to resolve this more neatly than by waiting it out, Stanford may know what it is, and that would be useful knowledge to gain. ]
Possibly, though I find it unlikely. Something I drank seems to have had a sudden and unusual effect.
It's not unlike the effect you witnessed at the hotel ball.
[ His body had been quite abruptly changed then, too, in just as thorough and categorical a way. He had genuinely been less ruffled by that shift than this one. Perhaps he'd be able to take this one in stride, too, if his antlers weren't such a particular shape and didn't itch so feverishly. ]
That situation resolved within a day, and I suspect this will be similar. If there is another way to dispel the magic, I'm unaware of such a cure.
[ Enchanted foodstuff, huh? Ozpin is correct that it's not likely that Ford has a solution, but he does have some ideas. And the transformation at the hotel had been a not even slightly unpleasant thing to deal with. This one is obviously a bit more disruptive than that if Ozpin is going so far as to cancel the date, but memories of that pleasant evening spent talking and dancing leave Ford feeling confident that even if he can't fix the problem, he can handle whatever it is. ]
I can't promise any solutions, but I know a few things that might help.
If you're willing to try I can still come over.
[ It's not like he had anything else planned, and it's not like Ozpin isn't a good conversation partner. ]
[ In the end, he doesn't have to consider it for long. This might be uncomfortable only insofar as Ozpin is uncomfortable with it, for reasons he is not eager to go into.
Then again, Deerington would give him antlers and have him shed velvet on the same day. But a brief visit from Stanford doesn't need to coincide with that; he can continue rubbing away the itch only gently and biting his lip through it. He'd hated this thousands of years ago and he hates it again now. ]
[ Well if Ozpin is still agreeing to meeting with him, it's probably not actually debilitating or embarrassing. It's likely just inconvenient, in that case. ]
I'll be over when we originally planned, then. Is there anything I should bring besides my supplies?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cryptograms) wrote2020-09-06 03:13 pm
(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.
no subject
The last date had been... not bad. It had been stilted and awkward in places, marred by too-long silences and some very clumsy gestures, but still not bad. Certainly better than their first date had gone, and while that might be a low bar to clear they had still cleared it. He'd been looking forward to a third, hopefully even less awkward date. To have it canceled is... well, disappointing.
At least this doesn't seem personal. Something has come up could mean nearly anything in Deerington and few of them good. ]
That's alright. We can reschedule.
Is it something I can help with?
[ It may not be a date, but Ford's knowledge of Deerington might come in handy. ]
no subject
Stanford is their local expert, and this is not the first time Ozpin has found himself betrayed by tea, or cocoa, or candy. Deerington seems to favor puzzles that have solutions. If there is actually a way to resolve this more neatly than by waiting it out, Stanford may know what it is, and that would be useful knowledge to gain. ]
Possibly, though I find it unlikely. Something I drank seems to have had a sudden and unusual effect.
It's not unlike the effect you witnessed at the hotel ball.
[ His body had been quite abruptly changed then, too, in just as thorough and categorical a way. He had genuinely been less ruffled by that shift than this one. Perhaps he'd be able to take this one in stride, too, if his antlers weren't such a particular shape and didn't itch so feverishly. ]
That situation resolved within a day, and I suspect this will be similar. If there is another way to dispel the magic, I'm unaware of such a cure.
no subject
I can't promise any solutions, but I know a few things that might help.
If you're willing to try I can still come over.
[ It's not like he had anything else planned, and it's not like Ozpin isn't a good conversation partner. ]
no subject
Then again, Deerington would give him antlers and have him shed velvet on the same day. But a brief visit from Stanford doesn't need to coincide with that; he can continue rubbing away the itch only gently and biting his lip through it. He'd hated this thousands of years ago and he hates it again now. ]
All right.
Come over anytime.
no subject
I'll be over when we originally planned, then. Is there anything I should bring besides my supplies?
no subject
[ In the meantime, he will rub at the constant itch, avoid mirrors, and endure it. ]