Transformation [Phnom Penh/ public]

Chankrisna wasn't sure how it happened, nor why. It had never happened at her home. It must have been some curse of this place. Even with an explanation, it was something unknown and terrifying.

The incident had begun late that night. As she layed in her pile of hay in the corner of the portable stables, her stomach began to go sour, and a taste like venom filled her mouth. She tried to go into an empty corner to vomit up the problem, but to no avail. The Khmer tried to go back to sleep with a fever and the chills.

It wasn't long before her bones began to ache with a horrifying intensity. Her lip bled from trying to keep quiet. She had no idea what was happening to her, but she'd learned it was better not to draw attention to oneself here.

The small woman was handling herself considerably well, she thought, until she heard an unsettling crack from her legs. The pain shot from them almost immediately, hitting her like a ton of bricks. Her feet and shins followed suit. In too much pain to even look, she didn't notice what was happening to her lower half. It all merged together as scales grew over the twisted flesh, the bones in her legs finally connecting as one network following her spine.

Something-- something was happening to her eyes. And her teeth-- was she dying? And if she wasn't... Why wasn't she? Why couldn't she? Tears rolled down her cheeks as she finally let out a shriek-- but she could have sworn it was more like a hiss.

The weight of her new form crumpled the already flimsy wood wall of the car and it gave way, sending her tumbling out.

Terrified, she dragged herself from the rubble by her arms. It was impossible not to, but she hoped no one noticed this-- this thing she had become. Her nightshirt barely fit over her waist, she realized as she was getting used to how to move and thinking of someplace to hide. She continued to cry in agony, but the tears had been replaced by a veritable cacophony of banshee shrieks and hisses.

What had happened to her?

Oh god-- someone had heard.

Chankrisna did her best to keep silent, using the dark to her advantage as she slipped off into a different area of the carnival. She was more worried about getting caught by the disembodied voice now, forgetting about getting caught by actual carnival guards or acts that weren't like hers. She again began to cry, the fear taking over her again that she would possibly never come back from this change, like some sort of Kafka story gone awry.

((Wasn't going to, but...tempted to crash, since you mentioned the carnival guards. XD Also, I need to test Mirza out before starting a new topic. /SHOT Permission to? Y/N?))

((FFFF sure XD if only he'd been around for the sabotaging mystique topic XD

"We sorta wanna get in here for a while. Not to long, just maybe an hour."
"...Okay, that's cool."
"Can you open this fence for us?"
"/yawn Oh sure, pal."

XD))

((pfffffft--lol, idk, because that would have required putting Itak and Mirza in the same topic together...and I don't think the world is ready for that level of congeniality. XD))

Mirza was also sleeping. ...Er, he wasn't supposed to be, unlike the other two. Unfortunately for him, though, he was jolted awake by a loud crash coming from the direction of the freak's cars. Which, oh right, he was stationed next to. Well darn, that meant he actually had to do some work for once.

Stretching and yawning loudly, he ambled off through the rows of cars, looking for what could have caused the disruption. Hopefully it was nothing too serious, so he could go back to napping. (Getting night shifts was messing with his sleeping schedule enough, as it was.) They'd given him a flashlight, but he never used it--for whatever reason, he was quite good at moving quietly through the dark, in any terrain, without much aid of fancy equipment. ...Why yes, he did consider flashlights to be fancy. Before coming here, he still lived in a house made of wood.

First, he came across the drugged-up woman. This was nothing particularly surprising to him; his own brother had a similar problem with drugs, so he was used to this. He was about to tap her shoulder and ask if she'd heard the crashing noise, when he saw the source of it with his own eyes. A pile of debris and a definite trail... A very strange trail, not one made by human feet.

Perplexed, he passed the high girl and bent towards the ground to get a better look at the trail, following it slowly, with silent, padded footsteps. He had no idea what this thing was, but it had to be fairly big, and if it had destroyed the car like that, then fairly strong, as well. Was this really something he wanted to go looking for?

But his reservations came too late: he found it...uh...her? Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was looking at.

Perhaps he should have been alarmed. Perhaps he should have attacked on instinct. Perhaps he should have done something. But he just stood there, blinking, trying to process what was going on.

"...Ehhhhh... ..." His version of 'whoa'.

And then the creature made a strange hissing sound, and he realized that just standing there, wide-open for attack, was really stupid. But...he was trained to fight people, not...whatever this was. It struck him that a half-snake, half-woman thing probably had a pretty good chance of killing him, no matter what form of martial arts he'd mastered. Sobering. Maybe he should advance his training. ...If he lived, of course.

Then again, despite the hissing sounds, she didn't seem poised to attack him. Confused, he took a closer look, squinting in the darkness--he was used to seeing all of the freaks by now, and sure as hell would have known if they had a serpent-woman in their ranks. But the upper half, the human half...was that...?

It was. That one dancer. His confusion was doubled and tripled with dull surprise. What was going on here?

"Hey, uh, are you okay? Is this...normal?" He hoped not.

She should have kept an eye out for people. Stupid, stupid. The security guard found her and she realized there went what little freedom she had.

Why was he just standing there? Wait-- this was the one who was constanly sleeping. He seemed nicer than the rest. Maybe he could help her.

Not knowing how to speak, she just shook her head, to both questions, shrinking back just in case he jut now decided to be ambitious. She shook with fear and just wanted things to go back to normal. Would they?

"Well..." He looked around, as if for someone that could help that actually understood what was happening. Unfortunately, he knew for a fact that the doctor was not around this evening (he himself had let the American out the gate earlier--the two were in cahoots to get better medical care for the freaks), and even if he were, he doubted that even a trained medical professional would know what to do here. And he couldn't really think of anyone else who was available at this time who actually gave a shit. ...Did that mean it was up to him? Oh dear.

Doing his best to remember his training--push away the confusion and distress, and just do what needed to be done--he tried to figure out what the first priority would be. "Are you in any pain?" If she was, then maybe they could get the girl who was high to share some of her stash. Being in a stupor was definitely preferable to being in pain.

Then, hesitating a good long moment first, he suggested reluctantly, "Maybe...eh....maybe I could fix the hole in your car." He didn't really want to. Work was bad. Physical labor ten times more so. But he was forcing himself to think of what Kuchik would do, and he knew that the fellow Gilaki was a man of honor and would have taken any action he could. God dammit, Kuchik.

It would have been nice if this opportunity could have been used to just liberate the girl once and for all, but in the condition she was in, that didn't seem too reasonable. And as far as he was aware, there was nowhere for her to go. No, as bad as it would feel to return her to captivity, right now the best choice of action was to try and minimalize any potential punishment for the broken property. But in the back of his mind, he was definitely humoring the idea of freeing all of the freaks eventually.

She watched him with a kind of incredulous anxiety as he just shuffled his feet and twiddled his thumbs for about five minutes.

Finally he tried his best, which made her check and realize that she was no longer in pain. Figuring this out, a weight that felt like a load of iron was lifted off her chest, and much of her anxiety faded.

That must have been what was holding her prisoner as a creature, because while he stared at the car with apprehensive dismay, she suddenly began to feel lighter. She saw scales fly by in the wind, wondering if the curse wasnt over yet and it wouldnt be until she was completely snake. But then she could feel both her legs again, and she realized (with a disgusted grimace) that she was kneeled in a pile of scales. Her own scales. But more surprising was she could see both her legs again. Shakily, Chankrisna stood up, and after making sure her nightclothes covered what needed to be, addressed him. "I think I'm okay now," She was surprising herself with how calm she was about it all. "But if you could fix the car... i don't want to get in trouble for that."

Having been so preoccupied with trying to figure out how to fix the hole (perhaps this was karma for weaseling out of all the work when he was growing up; he didn't know how to do practical things), he hadn't noticed her quiet metamorphosis. Not until one of the flyaway scales had gently carried on the wind to the side of his head, where it stuck in his hair.

"Wha--" He interrupted his own query by sucking his breath in sharply--he'd untangled the scale and ended up slitting one of his fingers on the edge of it. Turning, understandably perplexed, he very nearly did a double-take. Just a second ago, that pile of glimmering scales had been a full tail. What on earth happened??

It wasn't until she stood that he realized that she hadn't turned into a mound of shedding, rather, she was back to normal. Turning away respectfully as she adjusted her clothing, he didn't even bother to hide the relief in his voice, "Thank God..."

...Wait, he still had to fix the car?

With a half-grin, half-grimace, he acquiesced, "Ehh, okay...I guess I should go find a hammer--" But then he stopped to think about it. If he left, it could be hours before he got back. He had no sense of time whatsoever, especially when work was in the near future. "...Actually, maybe it's better if I stay put." He looked down at his own uniform for something he could use--aha. Pulling out a police baton from his belt, he held it aloft hesitantly, "This'll work...?" He wasn't even sure. It seemed sturdy enough, though.

Unbuttoning his jacket, he shrugged it as well as his belt off, and laid them on the ground before rolling up his sleeves. For all intents and purposes, he looked quite ready to do a job well done. Then he stared at the pile of debris, desperately willing it to go back to one piece on it's own. He realized that he didn't even know where to start.

Finally, he threw up his hands lightly and admitted, "I have no idea what I'm doing." Normally, he would have laughed at himself, but this wasn't really a funny matter.

As he shrugged off his jacket and his belt, seemingly intent of fixing the problem, she picked his jacket up off the ground and tied it around her waist. The way he was just staring at the busted wall, she figured borrowing his jacket was the closest he would get to helping her out.

She slipped past him and climbed back into the car. It wasn't too cold out, and she would be fine if she could keep the jacket for the night.

"Ah... Thank you." she put on the most smile she could muster for such a lazy man. "I'll give the jacket back tomorrow. And if I somehow don't see you, my name is Chankrisna." She held out her hand for him to shake-- unless he was too lazy for that, too.

Ironically, he was not too lazy to shake her hand; it just went against his religious beliefs. But he was a bit of a casual Muslim, so he supposed it was okay as long as she was comfortable with it. Grasping her fingers as lightly as possible, he shook them awkwardly and briefly.

"Mirza Amirpour," he replied with an easy-going smile; a slight contrast to his not-so-easy handshake. He gave his surname to everyone these days, in the faint hope that he'd come across someone who had met Arash. So far, no such luck.

"Don't worry about the jacket; I'll see you tomorrow, for sure," he laughed slightly, "I have an idea...if you don't mind white lies." As he explained, he put his belt back on, trying to adjust it comfortably in the absence of his jacket, "You've probably heard that some people from the rival carnival broke in not too long ago?" He hadn't been on duty at the time, but he'd been notified, as one of the guards, to watch out for similar attacks. With a wave at the hole, he explained, "We'll tell them that it happened again here; someone tried to sabotage the carnival."

In actuality, it would be him who was sabotaging Mistique, and this would be a good place to start. Spreading fear of attack was sometimes even better than an attack itself; it would shake things up psychologically.

Of course, though, they'd have to come up with a plausible story, and get rid of evidence that would work against their favor (like the pile of scales, for instance). He glanced at the drug girl; she'd probably have to be filled in on it, as well, just in case. But at least this way, none of them would get in trouble (or if they did, it would just be him for not stopping the intruders before they caused damage), and the car would be fixed properly.

He seemed okay with her borrowing his jacket... But did that handshake say otherwise? Oh well, if he wasn't going to say anything she would keep it.

And at least he was good at making excuses. "I'm fine with any lie as long as I'm here."

She listened to his excuse, nodding. It made enough sense. There was just one thing... "But... Wouldn't that scare people?"

Wasn't it his job to make sure people weren't living in fear?

He leaned against the side of the car, with a posture that would have made a finishing school instructor weep. It wasn't like he could see her from this angle (kind of the point, since, wooden train car or not, a woman's quarters were private), but he continued to gesture as though they were talking face-to-face. With a shrug, he agreed, "Yeahhhhh, it probably will. Mostly the management." And maybe the carnies, maybe not.

It was a fairly basic, tried-and-true technique. "A lot of little mishaps over time like this will make them expend more money, and will take a toll on their psyches," he explained as if reading from a textbook, "It'll wear them out and aid to their breakdown." He wasn't sure how he knew these things, but, Mirza being Mirza, he just kind of went along with it and assumed Kuchik had taught it to him for whatever reason.

Never did it cross his mind that he forgot to mention why he wanted to sabotage Mistique to begin with, or that perhaps he shouldn't entrust this potentially career-threatening information to a total stranger.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"You... You're trying to help... Us...?"

Her heart went out to the rest of the freaks there, but she herself knew she was most likely better off here. For one, she belonged to the manager. A gift from his father, from his explorer friend. she was even more foreign than most people there, fresh off the boat would be the expression. She was a lot better off here with steady meals, adequate enough care... When did she start accepting these mediocre standards??

"You sure know what you're doing." She laughed sadly. "I thought you were stupid. And... You are if you'll say that to any stranger." Not that she was going to tell, most likely not even under duress.

"Pretty much," as if it were no less amazing or difficult than helping a little old lady cross the street, "I am supposed to be looking for someone, actually, but I figure this place has bigger problems." He was sure Arash would not be upset with him for their greatly delayed reunion once he explained the circumstances. His half-brother was a hundred times more moralistic than he was (or so he thought, since that was how Arash always made it sound), so Mirza knew he'd agree with his cause. Would perhaps have even done the same thing.

He had to laugh, though. "Stupid?" (True to his accent, the Iranian pronounced it 'eh-stupid'.) "No, just lazy." Then, after thinking about it for a moment, he added, "Eh, I wouldn't tell the management or the carnies, probably." Meaning he would spill the beans about his plan to any of the freaks, easily. People said that he always trusted all the wrong types. But why would any of the freaks rat him out, when they were the ones being helped? They all seemed to be decent people (unlike those who had confined them), so he saw no reason not to trust them.

"Why, are you going to tell? That would kind of suck, I guess." Kind of. Just a little. Maybe. Nothing ever was that extreme to him, it seemed.

Bigger problems? She would agree. "Well, thanks for that." Maybe he didn't want people to gush over his virtue. He seemed, after all, reluctant to even shake her hand. "Who are you looking for?"

She swung her legs out of the gaping hole in the car so she could see him better. Lazy, that was it. He would never get anything done without ambition. Which she had in resplendence. "If you ever need help-- I... Belong to the head manager." And living with these people gave her a good idea of who would cave under pressure or not. "so don't be... Lazy with who you tell," He probably would. "Half these people will spill any information to the higher ups if it means they'll get out."