He is MY--

<-- sitting on the beach in Tridemon's manse, after a miserable long lot of time stewing on a whole lot of miserable everythings :')

You have emoted: Gurashi brings up their other hand as well, one over either half of their face, keeping their eyes shrouded. "'m sorry," The warble. "Really, I..." Their voice cuts off, with a sob, followed by an embarrassed gasp. Their left wing bends, folding over, obscuring their head and arms half-heartedly.

You think to yourself: *at last, a tired sigh, entire being sagging inward, exhausted, -exhausted- - tired of trying so hard and yearning so much and feeling so wrongly and rightly all the times*.

Bizirik, the leothin lets out a little snuffle, laying a few paces away, its tail wrapped around its body. It snorts, then emits a mournful, low sound, observing thoughtfully.

Tridemon wraps his arms around you to squeeze you just as tightly as he can.

You have emoted: Gurashi rolls onto their side eventually, futilely pawing at their face as they weep. "'unno why," They hiccup again, "So many little things, make me feel like are being swallowed up whole." A sob. "Should not -matter-, so muchly but they -do-."

You have emoted: Gurashi's plumage puffs up again as they violently shake their head side to side. "Things that make me /angry/, remind me, that am being /selfish/," They huff noisily, fumblingly wiping at their nose with their wrist. "And that's /not goodly/ for peoples seeking Saffrons - am not s-supposed to be."

Tridemon squeezes you again, staying silent for a while. "... and why do you think you're being selfish?"

You think to yourself: *an embarrassed ripple, embarrassment turning into shame and guilt: the elfen, faeling, trill, viscanti, deep hues and familiar red hair, smiling a smile that doesn't reach their ever-changing eyes*.

You have emoted: Gurashi paws again at their eyes, finally dropping their hands to either side of their face, cupping their cheeks as they gaze upward, scanning the sky. Their eyes are puffy and red around the edges, fresh tears brimming anew. "Because... is /my/... dad," They choke at last, one hand covering their mouth to stifle a cry.

You think to yourself: *the faeling-trill-viscanti, a cousinling, happy to be cousin, letting slip calling him father to his face, on accidental-purpose, calling him /dad/ and - then... telling /you/, their brother, like their brother, so dearly to them--*.

You have emoted: Gurashi quivers from head to toe. "Am horrible," They confess quietly, fingers curling against their mouth.

...a distressed ripple of psionic energy pours out of the trill, wavering figures appearing in the air, hovering over both of them...

All at once a scene snaps into reality, stealing both lucidian and trill from the beach, taking them somewhere new, somewhere familiar, clear as day: The Glomdoring. Crickets and cicadas sing noisily, the air is damp and cool. And, just off to the side...

Gurashi, a kephera, antennae still damaged, MUCH younger, the scars and accessories they've gained over the years gone. The illusory figure looks up, then towards the figures on the beach, not seeming to see them. Footsteps...

The sound of boots squishing in the mud. A loud, rumbling purr. A familiar looming faeling steps into view, riding atop the enormous white leopard. The kephera rushes forward to greet them both, excitedly saying something, lacking words but an impression of joy at their arrival. But...

You have emoted: Gurashi quivers again, covering their face as they resume their weeping, albeit much softer.

"I know that Eliron was interested in discussing family, and has a few times in fact," Says the faeling in the vision, gazing at the kephera as they pet the leopard. "Go ahead and tell me your thoughts."

You have emoted: Gurashi rolls over, facing away from Tridemon at last, holding themselves around the torso tightly, tucking their chin to their chest.

...warmth ...the kephera gazes back, eyes wide with appreciation, antennae sagging. You can feel their joy, too, being asked, being considered...

"Admire many things about them. Think they are very driven, and very dedicated to the Wyrd and to Glomdoring." A nod from both faeling and leopard. The figures momentarily blear out of existence as the trill's wing brushes over their body, folding around themselves.

As the faeling watches, you know they are listening, waiting. Ready, to hear you. "But..."

"They are often -very- disrespectful towards me." Assent. A powerful psionic wave of agreement. "And have not yet raised voice at, but do not know how many times have to ask not to do something before they stop." A feeling like a hand dragging along your back, between your shoulder blades - a tongue across your face.

You shiver violently.

You have emoted: Gurashi warbles, embarrassed, finally unblocking their face long enough to look up at the figures. They blink, staring up at the projected imagines as fresh tears spring up.

You think to yourself: *a guilty thrum, an ache - selfish, /selfish/*.

The two continue talking for several lines, examples of wrongdoings, the faeling listening and nodding as the kephera expressions their obvious discontent.

"...so these things have hurt me." The kephera confesses at last, covering their face in shame. The faeling opposite them says nothing as they blurt out a few more praises, hurriedly trying to negate their own negation.

You think to yourself: *the trill-faeling-elfen-viscanti, quietly commenting on the nickname, letting slip, 'called him father', called /him/ father - a desperately possessive rush of emotion, replaced with frustration replaced with--*.

Like a breath of fresh air, the faeling looks at the kephera, offers them a reassuring glance, which is returned with an equally inquisitive one.

Tridemon gives you a friendly squeeze.

Finally, after an agonizing wait, the faeling agrees with you. Relief, you feel. /Relief/. Something that doesn't feel wrongly doesn't have to be.

You have emoted: Gurashi suddenly sits up, watching the squid drag itself in and flop away. They look up at the illusion, plumage ruffling up as they puff their cheeks, skin turning red now not with their tears but with anger.

"I do not feel it's -malicious-," The faeling in the vision continues helpfully even as the trill projecting the illusion begins to violently swipe at the air, cutting through the figures and leaving streaks in the air like a wet paintbrush would leave on canvas.

You think to yourself: *guilty, /guilty/, angry is not right to be so /angry/ but /am/ how dare how dare how /dare/*.

The deep voice of the faeling continues even as Gurashi continues to wildly destroy the illusion with their flailing arms and flapping wings, trying to willfully scatter it to the wind. "But it is not... attractive to me, I suppose?"

You have emoted: Gurashi alights upon the ground, seeing bits of color and shape still holding in the air, puffing their cheeks, puffing their plumage. They let out an angry, strangled little yell and flap wildly at the illusion, further distorting it.

The faeling then does something very silly. Facing the kephera, he begins to flail his arms, mimicking the being opposite them as they often do when they are in distress. Delight. Delight and amusement flutters in your own heart as Gurashi is unable to blow away the images in time.

Tridemon moves into a more or less upright position, reaching out with one hand to rest it upon your knee, a featherlight touch.

You think to yourself: *-everything inside them suddenly feels like it is on fire, why did think about this? why did have to bring it up--*.

The kephera in the image laughs and laughs, and the faeling stops flailing, the ghost of a smile upon his serious face. Everything about this moment is warm and cherished, even as the trill tries to fight it out of existence.

The faeling smiles. Opens his mouth, the illusion slipping into slower motion, as if some sort of aeonics had been put into play.

You have emoted: From your brief touch, even through the pants you can feel the growing warmth of their skin, rising like the inside of an oven. Pale light begins to wash over the edges of their skin, familiar like the golden glow that often overtakes their changeling nature. But there is something malevolent about the color this time, something ruddier, crimson and off-putting. Gurashi lets out a terrible shriek, balling their hands into fists and bucking forward as they flap once, powerfully at the image, gusting it away at last.

...but even as the images are blown away, the voice continues, softer, the deep familiar warm voice, calling back...

"I like you as you are."

You have emoted: Gurashi croaks, crumpling to their knees, their wings beginning to burn away, wildly contorting, shrinking back into their body.

"...so you need not feel like you are forced to change, by any means..."

You think to yourself: *agonizing acknowledgement - selfish because was /mine/ still - want to be /true/ still*.

You think to yourself: *a feverish sensation, washing over them, making them quake, making their limbs feel heavy and numb*.

You have emoted: Gurashi's wings finally warp out of existence, snapping as they fold in upon themselves, awash in the same ruddy malevolent light. Eventually the light begins to fade, and Tridemon can see even from his spot that a tail has grown in to replace the emptiness of the wings. The rest of Gurashi partially out of sight, steam visibly rising from the collar of their shirt as they sit there, dazedly facing the sea.

<-- changeling into viscanti :O

You think to yourself: *--and just like that, suddenly all the anger and frustration is...gone? there is still a residual ache, and /hot/ so damn /hot/*.

Tridemon stands up, moving behind you and wrapping his arms around you again, this time emanating a gentle chill like the first frost of winter, or a breeze coming off of the ocean. "I'm still here for you, dearest."

You have emoted: Gurashi doesn't move from their spot, lightly swaying as they are embraced, panting for air. "...don't feel good," They confide at last, head lolling to the side as they lean back into Tridemon's embrace.

Voice hoarse, you say, "...do not know, how to not..."

You think to yourself: *the very effort of using their words is a task unto itself, laborious, each syllable forced out*.

You have emoted: Gurashi continues to murmur softly to themselves, head lolling forward.

You think to yourself: *insides still burning, still feeling like a fire, ashamed for having been so greedy - gentle admonishment: should be flattered*.

You twitch spasmodically.

In gentle, dulcet tones, you whisper, "Should not be so mad..."

Tridemon squeezes you again. "Maybe not. But being mad doesn't make you a bad person, dear."

Their eyes welling with tears all over again, you whisper, "...feels so mean..." Their head hangs. "Know is not meaning to be."

You think to yourself: *the voice comes in again, softer, a whisper in the back of their head: "I like you as you are."*.