If Iris is commanded to be somewhere, she'll do her best to make sure she's there with plenty of time to spare. Although it's hardly only that that's got her here so early, and Aurora likely knows it. The giddiness that's spilling forth from her gives that much away.
"Um, well, either way you wanted, I guess," she says. She's just glad Aurora offered. How many times has she sat through such conversations, forcing herself to smile politely, feeling guilty that all her mind could focus on was the possibility of change? At least they both know what they're here for. "But if you're asking for my honest opinion, I'd... like to just get started."
She smiles warmly at Aurora. It's not that she doesn't want to chat with her, it really isn't. It's just that until they do what she came here for, she won't be able to concentrate. She'll be in a much better space for small talk once that's over with.
Oh, she's sure she knows at least part of the reason Iris rushed over here so quickly. She has no problem with it, as she would not have sent out the call if she wasn't in the mood to do some work.
"When I ask," she says simply. "I want the truth. If I didn't care to know your honest opinion, I wouldn't bother asking the question."
She goes into her kitchen and puts on a kettle for tea. "Put your book on the table and take off your coat and shirt. Lay on the couch on your stomach."
She has decided that mint tea is going to be the beverage of the evening, it's something to keep her concentrating as she works and she's not in the mood for the taste of coffee. Plus it will smell lovely in the house.
Iris nods and complies with the first instruction, though she opens the book before she does, the page in question already marked. It's a library book: a large, glossy, colour-printed anthology of nature photography.
"...Like that?" she says, pointing to the page. It bears a photograph of an immature swan (http://www.flickr.com/photos/patricia_pen/4331701496/), its wings spread in mid-flight. "Big enough to fly with. That's... that's what I want. When all this is done."
Funny; all this time she'd thought she wanted white wings. But the more time she spent poring over bird books, the more interesting designs she came across, and she decided maybe white was a bit too simple. Most of them were on the other end of the spectrum, too gaudy; she finds this an aesthetic compromise. Not purely white, but not something that'll make her stand out in a crowd.
Well, if the wingspan required for a ninety-pound girl to fly wouldn't already ensure that.
She removes the requested items of clothing and lays herself down, trying not to blush and failing miserably. Yes, it's purely procedural, and she sees why it's convenient, but even if the traditional connotations of semi-nakedness weren't present, the thought of direct touch against her scars makes her shiver.
But then, this is already going to go deeper than skin. Nothing that can be done about that; it's just part of how magic works. So she closes her eyes, takes a breath to steady herself, sinks into the couch cushions. They're now semi-familiar, and the feel of them is comforting. It reminds her of the night she slept here, and the peacefulness of her dreams.
Aurora watches as she moves, her eyes lingering on the page for a moment before going back to studying Iris. Only when the girl has settled on the couch does she move to the table to properly study the picture.
"You're sure this is what you want," she calls out over her shoulder, one finger moving to lightly touch the page. She's just making sure this is the choice that Iris wants to go with. She's pretty sure that the girl is going to say yes but she's giving her the chance to change her mind just in case.
"I can do this," she says, moving back to the kitchen and preparing a mug for her tea. She touches the kettle, willing the water to heat up just a little bit faster ans smiling when it starts to sing.
Pouring her tea, she holds the mug with both hands, warming them before setting it down on a side table and pulling a chair over so that she can be comfortable.
She sets both of her hands against the scars, calling up the magic she had already started to lace through the girl. She can see the start of her work, the beginnings of bones and the structure she'd started to set up. It's going to need to be altered slightly to give Iris what she wants but Aurora doesn't mind.
It didn't seem to sustain any damage while Iris was away which is good. She had assumed as much but she wanted to be sure. Now that she knows what the end result needs to be, she can actually start her work.
Iris nods, quite firmly. She's been immersed in bird books since the night the two met, scanning dozens of volumes, bookmarking hundreds of pages, deliberating for hours over her favourite images. She eventually narrowed it down to just a few, and spent the next couple of days trying them out: applying the colours to her phantom wings, fitting the shape and structure to the invisible skeleton weighing at her back.
It was an easy choice, in the end. Swan wings were what came to mind, back when the need first came upon her. Knowing that, it was only a question of the details.
"Thank you," she whispers, her eyes still closed. She's almost fully relaxed when Aurora's hands touch her skin, and for all the work she's put into calming herself, she all but leaps out of it.
It hurts-- no, that's not quite the word; it's not quite pain she's feeling, but an unpleasant pressure, a tension seething beneath her skin that demands to be freed. She manages to ignore it most of the time-- the desperate yearning for something to grow, for the need in her bones to shape itself into a useful form-- but every time she's touched there, the ache sparks off again.
Her hands fist into the couch cushions, and she lets out a tiny sob.
But this time, the pain doesn't last. This particular touch is healing: when it stirs the magic in her, it's doing what needs to be done, taking that pent-up energy and giving it the form it longs to express. She feels the initial ache peter out, replaced by a warm, expansive feeling, like the satisfaction of stretching a limb.
She supposes that is what she's feeling. She smiles, a little, at that.
"...feels good," she affirms, wanting to reassure Aurora after that little cry of pain. "Better." She's letting herself flow with it, now, her soul vibrating to the rhythm that Aurora's pulsing through it. Submitting to this part is easy enough. It's the undoing she always wants to resist.
She had been momentarily concerned when she pulled out the sob from the girl but she kept going. She knew that it was likely a reflex and there was little she could do to help ease the pain.
However, when Iris assures her that thing sare all right, she nods, a flicker of relief in her expression.
She removes one hand, reaching out for the tea and taking a sip while the other moves in easy circles around the girl's back. It's an easy motion and one that has a rhythm to it that isn't hard to follow in the slightest.
Her other hand joins in momentarily as she continues to coax the magic.
She's not doing much today, reshaping the skeleton she had started working on previously and reinforcing the work that didn't need to be repaired.
She doesn't want to do too much at once, as she'd rather take her time with this than rush through it. Not only is it a matter of keeping Iris close,, something she had an interest in doing, but she's looking at this as a hobby, as something she cna do as recreation.
Her hands keep moving, always weaving and stroking the magic, calling it forth to form and flex at her will. The skeleton reshapes easily because she knew she didn't want anything set in stone before. Now though, now she knows what she's doing and she gets to harden the bones and force a proper shape to them.
She starts humming, low and sweet as she works. She barely realises she's doing but well, old habits.
Iris can feel Aurora's intent along with the magic-- to enjoy this, to have fun with it, to treat the process of creation as a work of living art. It's evident in the light, almost playful touch of her energy, like a painter sweeping a brush across their canvas in exuberant, indulgent swirls. She doesn't mind the sentiment; in fact, she thinks it's rather nice. If she's going to be reshaped by someone, she'd rather them do it with beauty and passion in mind than treat it as perfunctory, a purely rote piece of work.
Besides, this way it's easy to imagine Aurora as the hands of the gods, exulting in the birth of a new being. The rebirth of Iris, just the way she was meant to be. Yes, she can easily lose herself in that fantasy: that the gods have come down and seen fit to remake her, to give her the body they always meant for her to have. And though Aurora calls herself a fairy, she always seemed more like a god to Iris. The imagery fits together well.
She's tempted to move to Aurora's humming, to let her head bob to the rhythm as the magic in her sways to it, but she's too wary of disrupting the spell. In place of motion, she finds herself humming along, perfectly matching the tune even though she's never heard it before. She can feel the song in her bones, scant moments before it escapes Aurora's lips. All of the creation she's weaving through her sounds like that song.
Right now, to her ears, to a body hungry for change, it might be the sweetest she's ever heard.
The skeleton's gaining weight, beginning to solidify. She whimpers a little more, though it's no longer from pain. It feels just right. It feels like coming home, to a home she's never visited yet welcomes her as soon as she crosses the threshold: a home that, once you're inside it, you know immediately is the place you were always meant to live.
Aurora is amused to hear Iris join in but not surprised. She remembers the last time and happily welcomes her into the song.
It's not as if that's something small enough for only one person.
Her work is easy this way, between viewing it as an art from and having ha body that's begging for change. The reshaping is almost easy, as it was clear this was what it was meant to be.
Idly, she wonders why Iris never had the wings to begin with but she saves her questions for later.
The skeleton keeps molding itself, bones growing where there had been none and she can see the outline, glowing softly in the light. It makes her smile and she raises one hand, tracing the edges with her fingertips. It looks lovely so far, the prettiest set of bones she's ever seen.
She's not going to do much more once she's got the basic structure set. She needs to give time for the bones to settle into their shake and then she can start on the rest of the project. Giving them blood and kin and feathers.
Iris feels the welcome, and continues to hum along, contented within the song's embrace. This had started out as painful, but it's quickly becoming really nice. The care that Aurora's taking with her, the feel of magic sparking within, and the right-feeling-ness of it all taking shape-- it's so beautiful, so perfect. Truly good days in Chicago are few and far between, but the two she's spent so far in Aurora's company might just be among the best she's had.
She's kept her eyes closed through the process so far, but as she feels the working drawing to a close, she steals a glance up at the phantom structures.
"I can actually see them," she says with a gasp. Thin, delicate bones, outlined waveringly in the air: so ghostlike in appearance, but so solid in her body-consciousness. She can already feel the way they influence her centre of gravity, the subtle shifts the rest of her skeleton has had to make, the way her muscles burn with a new and delightful weight. It's amazing how something so ethereal-looking can have so much of an impact on her mind, her soul, the way her body moves. She feels changed down to the core.
"They're amazing. Beautiful. ...I wanna try moving them, but I'm not sure if I can." Or should. She really doesn't want to disrupt the spellwork, and they look so frail like this. But there's also the matter of whether she can at all, given they're incomplete.
"Don't," she says, a note of warning in her voice. "They're still brittle at this point. I wouldn't try it." She considers something, taking a sip of her drink before speaking again. "Next time, through."
She gives her a slightly apologetic look. "After next time, you can stretch them out all you'd like."
She doesn't want her work starting to fray at the edges and she fears that's what would happen right now. Everything is settling nicely and the magic is set in already but she's wary. After next time, more work will have been put in, the magic will be more firmly set within Iris and the wings will be that much more real for her to move.
She studies the wings, looking at the frame carefully, tilting her head as she considers her work so far. With an approving nod, she smiles and the wings shiver and the image starts to fade.
"Your body wants this," she comments. "It makes the work much easier." She's still surprised at how simple this is, at how easily Iris' body conforms to the wings. She's done shapework before but it's not exactly been consensual. You have to work harder to make that happen, force much more power into it. This is simple, smooth and quite enjoyable.
At that don't, Iris immediately goes stock-still. "Not moving!" she insists, with a nervous little laugh. "Not moving an inch!" From one perspective, one could call her instant obedience impressive, though it's only partly that she's jumping on Aurora's command: mostly she's just terrified of damaging her new wings.
Not moving, of course, means her head has to stay in an awkward sort of position, looking back at the wings. Her neck's starting to hurt, but she holds it anyway, trying to keep even her breath controlled and slow. She won't do anything to disrupt this magic-- including breathe more actively than necessary.
She holds the pose as the wings fade away, not sure when to start moving again. Her neck really hurts, and her back muscles ache. She longs to stretch them, to roll them, to feel them shift under the skin. She does respond to Aurora's last words, but her voice stays low and soft: it makes her sound amazed, which wouldn't be wholly inaccurate. "You can tell? I'm so happy... not that I expected you wouldn't be able to tell. My body always feels like it's pining, but this-- you're fixing things, you're healing me. I'm just so glad someone else can see." A tiny smile steals over her lips: restrained, like the rest of her posture, but brimming with contented warmth.
She smiles at the obedience, though she assumes it stems from the girl's desire to keep her wings in tact. She's curious to see just how long Iris will keep up her awkward pose, so she's not quick to tell her it's all right to move, if not a bit carefully.
"Your body wants to conform to the change, it gives way and lets itself be manipulated much easier than working with someone who fights it." She smiles. "It makes the work easier and more enjoyable."
She waits a couple more moments then adds, "You can move now."
The smile stays in place, even through her aching. "I'm-- glad," she says, her voice now a touch strained. "I'm really glad it's fun for you." A tiny, half-stifled laugh escapes her. "It's fun for me."
She sinks back down into the couch at Aurora's permission. "Whew." She giggles again, though this time with relief. "Thanks for letting me know. I really wouldn't have wanted to damage anything." She winces visibly at the very idea. "...I can feel how much my body wants to take that shape. It's like-- it's like being all cramped up, and then suddenly you get to stretch out, and you realise you're-- so much more magnificent than you were all curled up and hidden." She flashes Aurora a bright grin. "It's amazing. I owe you so much."
f"I won't let you," she assures. "The work is still delicate, even if it is made more simple by your body's desire to conform. I would rather not have to start over." Not that she expects that shed will. She takes care to preserve her work.
"There are worse people to owe," she says, not unkindly. "Though I don't let debts slide." She figures she's not telling her anything she couldn't already guess. "But I also have no cause to call in favors, and I'm not one to waste my resources, so I can't promise you'll pay me back any time soon." It's supposed to be reassuring. Somehow.
She nods, fervently, now that she can move. "I wouldn't want you to have to start over either," she says, in a tone of whoa, glad we avoided that one. She wouldn't want to ruin Aurora's beautiful work-- her beautiful wings, she reminds herself, a shiver of joy running through her. Besides, if they have to start over, then that's longer she has to wait.
"I don't mind oweing you. It's only fair. ...How long will it be?" she can't help but ask, though she tries to sound curious rather than eager. She doesn't want to sound pushy, but she'd love a date to look forward to, even a rough one. Even if they've only just begun.
"For the wings?" She considers. "Not that long, a month, maybe two. It shouldn't take more than that. One more session to set in the bones of the thing, then we'll get to the tissue. We'll be working with the blood most of the time, so that won't require anything on it's own. Another for the skin and the last because we want to make sure the feathers get set in properly."
"This is, of course," she adds. "Not rushing things. I can get things done faster technically but the slower the crafting, the better they'll be."
A month. Maybe two. That's almost no time at all. Her smile widens further yet, a happy shiver running through her. She'll soon be complete. So very soon.
It takes all her courage not to cry.
"Make them your best," she insists. She'd love to have them sooner, but she wants them to be beautiful, as good as Aurora can get. "I have to live with them forever, after all."
A thought crosses her mind just then, at the earlier mention of debts. "Hey, what do you like to eat?" she asks. "I cook pretty well. If you want, I can bring you gifts when I come. I won't consider it paying the debt-- it's just because I want to. I wanna thank you, and it doesn't feel like I can thank you enough."
"I intend to," she assures, reaching a hand out to ghost it over the skin on Iris' back, not over her scars per se but just her back. "After all, they're going to be a reflection of what I can do, I have to make them look good."
At the question of food, she smiles a little. "I like all sorts of things," she informs. "But that's not very helpful, is it?" She considers. "I like anything with honey in it. Sweets in general honestly and bread. I like spices too though."
She laughs, her fingers lightly drumming against the small of Iris' back. "If you bring food of any sort, it will be accepted."
"I'll be happy to show off your work," she says with a smile, then giggles and squirms as Aurora taps. It's too low down to bother her scars: it just tickles. "Every day. People'll know how amazing you are."
She mentally notes Aurora's words, and nods. "I can do sweet things, and bread, definitely. Honey...." She counts off on her fingers. "Those are all things I've worked with before. I guess our worlds have some similarities." She dips her head a little. "It's agreed, then. Next time I come, and every time thereafter, I'll definitely bring you something good to eat."
"I think," she says with a laugh, her fingers no longer tapping but merely resting against her skin. "That you have a certain bias that might skew your perceptions about what I am."
"All right then," she agrees. "I can't see a reason to complain about this."
Then she removes her hand, bringing it back to hover over the scars again. "The wings will be much nicer than these," she muses aloud. "Though they do have a certain...charm to them."
"Maybe I do," she says, laughing as well. Aurora's touch is gentle and light, a simple gesture that makes her feel soothed. It's neither friendly nor romantic, familial nor businesslike: it's just comfort, transcending all boundaries. It's nice. She's nice.
"But, well, you haven't given me any reason to think otherwise. And you've done so much for me. I mean-- the wings, but you've been nice to me as well. Letting me stay the night when I was tired, and things...." She almost shrugs, but stops the motion before it can complete. That particular movement doesn't seem like such a good idea right now, even if the wings are faded. And even if it'd feel divine, to give her back muscles a nice good stretch. "I don't see why I should think you're anything less than amazing."
She twists her head over her shoulder again when Aurora's hand goes to her scars, though it's not as if she needs to look to tell it's there. The sensitive nexuses at her back can feel the energy of her hand, even if it isn't touching. "My scars?" she asks. "I... they're something, I guess. They make me feel like I have wings there, even though nothing can show." A bright smile crosses her features. "But no, they're not anywhere near as beautiful as the wings'll be. And I mean, any wings'd be better than none, but yours, I'm sure, are gonna be the best." She nods emphatically.
There's no persuasion laced in her touch but she doesn't need it. She's worked with human bodies for centuries, knows the kind of touches that are welcomed and the ones that aren't. She studied them, learned about what works and what doesn't and she considers herself quite well versed in what she does.
If she wanted to make Iris uncomfortable, she could, it would be so easy but there's nothing to gain from that. Her comfort and relaxation is much more useful.
She laughs when Iris talks, pressing her hand against hte scars now and pouring energy there. It had been a trickle before but now it's a steady stream as she aligns and hardens the bones of her wings.
"I promise," she assures, her other hand reaching out to stroke Iris' head. "They'll be magnificent. You'll be as complete as I can make you."
Which is technically untrue. She could make her an angel, a real angel, if she wanted but that's not what Iris asked for. She wanted wings and that's what she'll get.
And this is about where meta-Iris starts kicking herself. Mightily.
But she's content for now, at least, that touch and those words combining in her mind into something beautiful. As energy flows into her, coursing freely through the new, brittle bones, giving them life and strength, she can easily believe that promise is coming true, right before her eyes.
Or rather, she supposes, within her bones, given she's currently not watching the work. She's closed her eyes instead, settling into the feeling of the magic winding through her, and the rhythmic stroking of her hair. If she were a cat, she'd be purring her loudest right about now, but as it is, there's a simple radiance of warmth pouring out of her that Aurora might be able to detect. Gratitude, and satisfaction, and maybe just a sliver of affection.
Yeeeeah, the narration thought as much. There can always be more deals though. Aurora is never adverse to more deals.
She starts humming again her hands moving to the same rhythm. it's so easy to let herself align with he magic and everything is so much simpler when she does. It flows more smoothly the bones give in just the right way and the maci curls around them, hardening them and making them real just the way she needs it too.
It won't be much longer, maybe only about five more minutes of this but she's content with that. There was more bonework done than she expected and she may get a little more time to go back and fuss over details than she would before. Not that she was rushing herself but the fact that she can go at an even more leisurely pace is always pleasant.
Her hands will come to a stand still and she looks down at the girl. "I want you to take a deep breath and count to ten."
Iris falls back in with her rhythm just as quickly, humming along again to the tune. They fall in step with each other so easily. She supposes that's what happens when you both have the same goal in mind.
She's letting the feeling consume her, letting the bounds of her body melt away and into Aurora's touch, when she hears the instruction, a dim echo flitting over the surface of her mind. The touch on her back having ceased helps with her noticing something's changed, too. She doesn't nod, not wanting to move more than she needs, but simply obeys, breathing in as deeply as her lungs will allow and slowly letting it out again.
"One," she murmurs, still half in trance. "Two... three...."
She forces the wings to bend and fold in on themselves as she counts, She's careful, so careful, to make sure that no damage is sustained as she puts them away but she can't help but always be slightly concerned when she's forcing such delicate work to do much of anything.
By the time Iris gets to nine, she's done and her hands are resting against her back as she watches the girl carefully.
Iris can't help wincing a little through the four and the five, even in her trance. Feeling the wings tuck away inside is an interesting sensation, but it burns. And continues to burn, even after they've settled, the trapped energy pressing against her insides making her skin feel taut and hot. She'd much rather have them out.
But this is necessary, she's sure, so she goes along with it. By nine, there's a light sheen of sweat on her skin, and the number comes out shakily. She sinks more deeply into the couch cushions, her body at once drained and held taut.
She nods weakly at that, a small smile spreading over her lips. That's wonderful, she wants to say, but she can't make her mouth form the words. Her lips feel all numb, and her body's so warm. Moving sounds like such a bad idea.
"...Can stay here?" she eventually manages to murmur. She really doesn't think she's going to make it back again tonight.
Getting to her feet, she retrieves the blanket and pillow that Iris had used before. Draping the blanket over her, she gently lifts her head up and slides the pillow beneath.
"Dream sweet," she says, smiling from the edge of the couch.
There's no answer, although her lips may have moved in a ghost of a thank you. She just pulls the blanket in around herself, her small hands clinging tight to the fabric.
Aurora's last words flit like a dream over the fringes of her consciousness, about a second before she plunges into sleep. She'll dream of wings, once more: the only time she ever does.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2010-12-23 03:15 am (UTC)"Um, well, either way you wanted, I guess," she says. She's just glad Aurora offered. How many times has she sat through such conversations, forcing herself to smile politely, feeling guilty that all her mind could focus on was the possibility of change? At least they both know what they're here for. "But if you're asking for my honest opinion, I'd... like to just get started."
She smiles warmly at Aurora. It's not that she doesn't want to chat with her, it really isn't. It's just that until they do what she came here for, she won't be able to concentrate. She'll be in a much better space for small talk once that's over with.
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Date: 2010-12-23 04:00 am (UTC)"When I ask," she says simply. "I want the truth. If I didn't care to know your honest opinion, I wouldn't bother asking the question."
She goes into her kitchen and puts on a kettle for tea. "Put your book on the table and take off your coat and shirt. Lay on the couch on your stomach."
She has decided that mint tea is going to be the beverage of the evening, it's something to keep her concentrating as she works and she's not in the mood for the taste of coffee. Plus it will smell lovely in the house.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 04:18 am (UTC)"...Like that?" she says, pointing to the page. It bears a photograph of an immature swan (http://www.flickr.com/photos/patricia_pen/4331701496/), its wings spread in mid-flight. "Big enough to fly with. That's... that's what I want. When all this is done."
Funny; all this time she'd thought she wanted white wings. But the more time she spent poring over bird books, the more interesting designs she came across, and she decided maybe white was a bit too simple. Most of them were on the other end of the spectrum, too gaudy; she finds this an aesthetic compromise. Not purely white, but not something that'll make her stand out in a crowd.
Well, if the wingspan required for a ninety-pound girl to fly wouldn't already ensure that.
She removes the requested items of clothing and lays herself down, trying not to blush and failing miserably. Yes, it's purely procedural, and she sees why it's convenient, but even if the traditional connotations of semi-nakedness weren't present, the thought of direct touch against her scars makes her shiver.
But then, this is already going to go deeper than skin. Nothing that can be done about that; it's just part of how magic works. So she closes her eyes, takes a breath to steady herself, sinks into the couch cushions. They're now semi-familiar, and the feel of them is comforting. It reminds her of the night she slept here, and the peacefulness of her dreams.
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Date: 2010-12-23 04:32 am (UTC)"You're sure this is what you want," she calls out over her shoulder, one finger moving to lightly touch the page. She's just making sure this is the choice that Iris wants to go with. She's pretty sure that the girl is going to say yes but she's giving her the chance to change her mind just in case.
"I can do this," she says, moving back to the kitchen and preparing a mug for her tea. She touches the kettle, willing the water to heat up just a little bit faster ans smiling when it starts to sing.
Pouring her tea, she holds the mug with both hands, warming them before setting it down on a side table and pulling a chair over so that she can be comfortable.
She sets both of her hands against the scars, calling up the magic she had already started to lace through the girl. She can see the start of her work, the beginnings of bones and the structure she'd started to set up. It's going to need to be altered slightly to give Iris what she wants but Aurora doesn't mind.
It didn't seem to sustain any damage while Iris was away which is good. She had assumed as much but she wanted to be sure. Now that she knows what the end result needs to be, she can actually start her work.
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Date: 2010-12-23 05:00 am (UTC)It was an easy choice, in the end. Swan wings were what came to mind, back when the need first came upon her. Knowing that, it was only a question of the details.
"Thank you," she whispers, her eyes still closed. She's almost fully relaxed when Aurora's hands touch her skin, and for all the work she's put into calming herself, she all but leaps out of it.
It hurts-- no, that's not quite the word; it's not quite pain she's feeling, but an unpleasant pressure, a tension seething beneath her skin that demands to be freed. She manages to ignore it most of the time-- the desperate yearning for something to grow, for the need in her bones to shape itself into a useful form-- but every time she's touched there, the ache sparks off again.
Her hands fist into the couch cushions, and she lets out a tiny sob.
But this time, the pain doesn't last. This particular touch is healing: when it stirs the magic in her, it's doing what needs to be done, taking that pent-up energy and giving it the form it longs to express. She feels the initial ache peter out, replaced by a warm, expansive feeling, like the satisfaction of stretching a limb.
She supposes that is what she's feeling. She smiles, a little, at that.
"...feels good," she affirms, wanting to reassure Aurora after that little cry of pain. "Better." She's letting herself flow with it, now, her soul vibrating to the rhythm that Aurora's pulsing through it. Submitting to this part is easy enough. It's the undoing she always wants to resist.
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Date: 2010-12-27 09:01 pm (UTC)However, when Iris assures her that thing sare all right, she nods, a flicker of relief in her expression.
She removes one hand, reaching out for the tea and taking a sip while the other moves in easy circles around the girl's back. It's an easy motion and one that has a rhythm to it that isn't hard to follow in the slightest.
Her other hand joins in momentarily as she continues to coax the magic.
She's not doing much today, reshaping the skeleton she had started working on previously and reinforcing the work that didn't need to be repaired.
She doesn't want to do too much at once, as she'd rather take her time with this than rush through it. Not only is it a matter of keeping Iris close,, something she had an interest in doing, but she's looking at this as a hobby, as something she cna do as recreation.
Her hands keep moving, always weaving and stroking the magic, calling it forth to form and flex at her will. The skeleton reshapes easily because she knew she didn't want anything set in stone before. Now though, now she knows what she's doing and she gets to harden the bones and force a proper shape to them.
She starts humming, low and sweet as she works. She barely realises she's doing but well, old habits.
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Date: 2010-12-27 09:21 pm (UTC)Besides, this way it's easy to imagine Aurora as the hands of the gods, exulting in the birth of a new being. The rebirth of Iris, just the way she was meant to be. Yes, she can easily lose herself in that fantasy: that the gods have come down and seen fit to remake her, to give her the body they always meant for her to have. And though Aurora calls herself a fairy, she always seemed more like a god to Iris. The imagery fits together well.
She's tempted to move to Aurora's humming, to let her head bob to the rhythm as the magic in her sways to it, but she's too wary of disrupting the spell. In place of motion, she finds herself humming along, perfectly matching the tune even though she's never heard it before. She can feel the song in her bones, scant moments before it escapes Aurora's lips. All of the creation she's weaving through her sounds like that song.
Right now, to her ears, to a body hungry for change, it might be the sweetest she's ever heard.
The skeleton's gaining weight, beginning to solidify. She whimpers a little more, though it's no longer from pain. It feels just right. It feels like coming home, to a home she's never visited yet welcomes her as soon as she crosses the threshold: a home that, once you're inside it, you know immediately is the place you were always meant to live.
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Date: 2010-12-28 04:48 am (UTC)It's not as if that's something small enough for only one person.
Her work is easy this way, between viewing it as an art from and having ha body that's begging for change. The reshaping is almost easy, as it was clear this was what it was meant to be.
Idly, she wonders why Iris never had the wings to begin with but she saves her questions for later.
The skeleton keeps molding itself, bones growing where there had been none and she can see the outline, glowing softly in the light. It makes her smile and she raises one hand, tracing the edges with her fingertips. It looks lovely so far, the prettiest set of bones she's ever seen.
She's not going to do much more once she's got the basic structure set. She needs to give time for the bones to settle into their shake and then she can start on the rest of the project. Giving them blood and kin and feathers.
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Date: 2010-12-28 05:16 am (UTC)She's kept her eyes closed through the process so far, but as she feels the working drawing to a close, she steals a glance up at the phantom structures.
"I can actually see them," she says with a gasp. Thin, delicate bones, outlined waveringly in the air: so ghostlike in appearance, but so solid in her body-consciousness. She can already feel the way they influence her centre of gravity, the subtle shifts the rest of her skeleton has had to make, the way her muscles burn with a new and delightful weight. It's amazing how something so ethereal-looking can have so much of an impact on her mind, her soul, the way her body moves. She feels changed down to the core.
"They're amazing. Beautiful. ...I wanna try moving them, but I'm not sure if I can." Or should. She really doesn't want to disrupt the spellwork, and they look so frail like this. But there's also the matter of whether she can at all, given they're incomplete.
I am SO sorry it took me so long. I went and caught a deathplague this week.
Date: 2011-01-02 03:44 pm (UTC)She gives her a slightly apologetic look. "After next time, you can stretch them out all you'd like."
She doesn't want her work starting to fray at the edges and she fears that's what would happen right now. Everything is settling nicely and the magic is set in already but she's wary. After next time, more work will have been put in, the magic will be more firmly set within Iris and the wings will be that much more real for her to move.
She studies the wings, looking at the frame carefully, tilting her head as she considers her work so far. With an approving nod, she smiles and the wings shiver and the image starts to fade.
"Your body wants this," she comments. "It makes the work much easier." She's still surprised at how simple this is, at how easily Iris' body conforms to the wings. She's done shapework before but it's not exactly been consensual. You have to work harder to make that happen, force much more power into it. This is simple, smooth and quite enjoyable.
Baw, no worries. Hope you're un-deathplagued now!
Date: 2011-01-02 06:31 pm (UTC)Not moving, of course, means her head has to stay in an awkward sort of position, looking back at the wings. Her neck's starting to hurt, but she holds it anyway, trying to keep even her breath controlled and slow. She won't do anything to disrupt this magic-- including breathe more actively than necessary.
She holds the pose as the wings fade away, not sure when to start moving again. Her neck really hurts, and her back muscles ache. She longs to stretch them, to roll them, to feel them shift under the skin. She does respond to Aurora's last words, but her voice stays low and soft: it makes her sound amazed, which wouldn't be wholly inaccurate. "You can tell? I'm so happy... not that I expected you wouldn't be able to tell. My body always feels like it's pining, but this-- you're fixing things, you're healing me. I'm just so glad someone else can see." A tiny smile steals over her lips: restrained, like the rest of her posture, but brimming with contented warmth.
Still plagued sadly. I went out yesterday in hopes of starting the zombie apocalypse but no luck.
Date: 2011-01-02 07:00 pm (UTC)"Your body wants to conform to the change, it gives way and lets itself be manipulated much easier than working with someone who fights it." She smiles. "It makes the work easier and more enjoyable."
She waits a couple more moments then adds, "You can move now."
Bah. :< Feel better soon! Or at least zombify people.
Date: 2011-01-02 07:09 pm (UTC)She sinks back down into the couch at Aurora's permission. "Whew." She giggles again, though this time with relief. "Thanks for letting me know. I really wouldn't have wanted to damage anything." She winces visibly at the very idea. "...I can feel how much my body wants to take that shape. It's like-- it's like being all cramped up, and then suddenly you get to stretch out, and you realise you're-- so much more magnificent than you were all curled up and hidden." She flashes Aurora a bright grin. "It's amazing. I owe you so much."
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Date: 2011-01-02 09:57 pm (UTC)"There are worse people to owe," she says, not unkindly. "Though I don't let debts slide." She figures she's not telling her anything she couldn't already guess. "But I also have no cause to call in favors, and I'm not one to waste my resources, so I can't promise you'll pay me back any time soon." It's supposed to be reassuring. Somehow.
Bouncing between feral serial killer!Iris and rift is whiplashy. :3
Date: 2011-01-02 10:03 pm (UTC)"I don't mind oweing you. It's only fair. ...How long will it be?" she can't help but ask, though she tries to sound curious rather than eager. She doesn't want to sound pushy, but she'd love a date to look forward to, even a rough one. Even if they've only just begun.
....That has got to be really jarring.
Date: 2011-01-02 11:03 pm (UTC)"This is, of course," she adds. "Not rushing things. I can get things done faster technically but the slower the crafting, the better they'll be."
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Date: 2011-01-02 11:20 pm (UTC)It takes all her courage not to cry.
"Make them your best," she insists. She'd love to have them sooner, but she wants them to be beautiful, as good as Aurora can get. "I have to live with them forever, after all."
A thought crosses her mind just then, at the earlier mention of debts. "Hey, what do you like to eat?" she asks. "I cook pretty well. If you want, I can bring you gifts when I come. I won't consider it paying the debt-- it's just because I want to. I wanna thank you, and it doesn't feel like I can thank you enough."
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Date: 2011-01-03 12:00 am (UTC)At the question of food, she smiles a little. "I like all sorts of things," she informs. "But that's not very helpful, is it?" She considers. "I like anything with honey in it. Sweets in general honestly and bread. I like spices too though."
She laughs, her fingers lightly drumming against the small of Iris' back. "If you bring food of any sort, it will be accepted."
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Date: 2011-01-03 12:05 am (UTC)She mentally notes Aurora's words, and nods. "I can do sweet things, and bread, definitely. Honey...." She counts off on her fingers. "Those are all things I've worked with before. I guess our worlds have some similarities." She dips her head a little. "It's agreed, then. Next time I come, and every time thereafter, I'll definitely bring you something good to eat."
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Date: 2011-01-03 07:37 pm (UTC)"All right then," she agrees. "I can't see a reason to complain about this."
Then she removes her hand, bringing it back to hover over the scars again. "The wings will be much nicer than these," she muses aloud. "Though they do have a certain...charm to them."
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Date: 2011-01-03 07:49 pm (UTC)"But, well, you haven't given me any reason to think otherwise. And you've done so much for me. I mean-- the wings, but you've been nice to me as well. Letting me stay the night when I was tired, and things...." She almost shrugs, but stops the motion before it can complete. That particular movement doesn't seem like such a good idea right now, even if the wings are faded. And even if it'd feel divine, to give her back muscles a nice good stretch. "I don't see why I should think you're anything less than amazing."
She twists her head over her shoulder again when Aurora's hand goes to her scars, though it's not as if she needs to look to tell it's there. The sensitive nexuses at her back can feel the energy of her hand, even if it isn't touching. "My scars?" she asks. "I... they're something, I guess. They make me feel like I have wings there, even though nothing can show." A bright smile crosses her features. "But no, they're not anywhere near as beautiful as the wings'll be. And I mean, any wings'd be better than none, but yours, I'm sure, are gonna be the best." She nods emphatically.
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Date: 2011-01-04 06:50 pm (UTC)If she wanted to make Iris uncomfortable, she could, it would be so easy but there's nothing to gain from that. Her comfort and relaxation is much more useful.
She laughs when Iris talks, pressing her hand against hte scars now and pouring energy there. It had been a trickle before but now it's a steady stream as she aligns and hardens the bones of her wings.
"I promise," she assures, her other hand reaching out to stroke Iris' head. "They'll be magnificent. You'll be as complete as I can make you."
Which is technically untrue. She could make her an angel, a real angel, if she wanted but that's not what Iris asked for. She wanted wings and that's what she'll get.
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Date: 2011-01-04 08:40 pm (UTC)But she's content for now, at least, that touch and those words combining in her mind into something beautiful. As energy flows into her, coursing freely through the new, brittle bones, giving them life and strength, she can easily believe that promise is coming true, right before her eyes.
Or rather, she supposes, within her bones, given she's currently not watching the work. She's closed her eyes instead, settling into the feeling of the magic winding through her, and the rhythmic stroking of her hair. If she were a cat, she'd be purring her loudest right about now, but as it is, there's a simple radiance of warmth pouring out of her that Aurora might be able to detect. Gratitude, and satisfaction, and maybe just a sliver of affection.
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Date: 2011-01-04 08:56 pm (UTC)She starts humming again her hands moving to the same rhythm. it's so easy to let herself align with he magic and everything is so much simpler when she does. It flows more smoothly the bones give in just the right way and the maci curls around them, hardening them and making them real just the way she needs it too.
It won't be much longer, maybe only about five more minutes of this but she's content with that. There was more bonework done than she expected and she may get a little more time to go back and fuss over details than she would before. Not that she was rushing herself but the fact that she can go at an even more leisurely pace is always pleasant.
Her hands will come to a stand still and she looks down at the girl. "I want you to take a deep breath and count to ten."
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Date: 2011-01-04 09:39 pm (UTC)She's letting the feeling consume her, letting the bounds of her body melt away and into Aurora's touch, when she hears the instruction, a dim echo flitting over the surface of her mind. The touch on her back having ceased helps with her noticing something's changed, too. She doesn't nod, not wanting to move more than she needs, but simply obeys, breathing in as deeply as her lungs will allow and slowly letting it out again.
"One," she murmurs, still half in trance. "Two... three...."
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Date: 2011-01-04 09:44 pm (UTC)By the time Iris gets to nine, she's done and her hands are resting against her back as she watches the girl carefully.
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Date: 2011-01-04 10:02 pm (UTC)But this is necessary, she's sure, so she goes along with it. By nine, there's a light sheen of sweat on her skin, and the number comes out shakily. She sinks more deeply into the couch cushions, her body at once drained and held taut.
It might be time for another nap.
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Date: 2011-01-04 10:08 pm (UTC)"Soon enough," she assure quietly. "You'll only put them away if you want to."
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Date: 2011-01-04 10:18 pm (UTC)"...Can stay here?" she eventually manages to murmur. She really doesn't think she's going to make it back again tonight.
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Date: 2011-01-04 10:37 pm (UTC)Getting to her feet, she retrieves the blanket and pillow that Iris had used before. Draping the blanket over her, she gently lifts her head up and slides the pillow beneath.
"Dream sweet," she says, smiling from the edge of the couch.
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Date: 2011-01-04 10:52 pm (UTC)Aurora's last words flit like a dream over the fringes of her consciousness, about a second before she plunges into sleep. She'll dream of wings, once more: the only time she ever does.