...I'd rather avoid them. It isn't-- I'm not uncomfortable with myself. [that sounds a little too defensive.] But this is... not how I prefer to remember myself, exactly.
...in degrees, over time. This- [a gesture to the tentacle hair, to himself in general, the blue situation,] was the most recent, but my people have always been susceptible to change influenced by magic. We became a separate species of elf entirely from our ancestors, over centuries without our original magic source. We were tainted by the demonic energy we were forced to turn to after the new source we found was corrupted.
[his fingers tap idly on his leg where his hand rests, a little jittery.]
I lost- more than I expected, in war, and I couldn't-- there was no returning to how things were before. That was when it started. Then we were corrupted by the Void while trying to study it, and you can see well enough the sort of change that resulted in.
Weak and talentless, I yearned to be stronger. A certain man decided to grant my wish... by fusing my body with that of a rock golem and blow demon. He made me into a chimera -- a product of science and sorcery.
[He nods. It almost feels like a lifetime ago... that frustration, the desperation.]
Over the years, I've traveled across the land, seeking out sorcerers, chimera researchers, healers... At present, there is no known way to unmake a chimera.
I have to find a way to do something that no one has ever done before.
[said with the exact sort of tired amusement of someone who knows how exhausting that actually is to chase. just invent new methods no problem...]
...you sound like you've retained your own sense of self despite that fusion, though. In that case there still should be some way to separate you from... well, from what isn't.
... Twisted as he was, the man who did this to me was a genius. Most chimeras are unstable... their minds or bodies break down before long. The conflict between differing wills is too great. But rock golems are constructs built only to answer commands -- they have no will of their own. And blow demons are weak-minded creatures that lack the intelligence or malevolence of pure demons.
I believe he intentionally made this body in a way that ensured the human mind would remain intact.
I can understand that. I wouldn't say you should accept it, not if it doesn't feel like your own.
[if the mood were lighter he might make a crack about being blue and pointy-eared not being so bad (he would know, after all), but it really doesn't feel like the time.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[is that a joke.]
... Didn't know this stuff bothered you, too.
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[suffering torment etc]
...I'd rather avoid them. It isn't-- I'm not uncomfortable with myself. [that sounds a little too defensive.] But this is... not how I prefer to remember myself, exactly.
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[it can be-- difficult, to be visually confronted with it.]
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[-oh. he glances back to zelgadis, there, attention more properly focused.]
...that's what you meant, wasn't it? When you said you were seeking some sort of cure?
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[His hand slowly lowers... then he pulls the scarf down from his face.]
This face you see is not mine by choice. My body was turned into this wretched form some years ago.
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[he's been there-- he still is.]
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... How'd it happen, for you?
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[his fingers tap idly on his leg where his hand rests, a little jittery.]
I lost- more than I expected, in war, and I couldn't-- there was no returning to how things were before. That was when it started. Then we were corrupted by the Void while trying to study it, and you can see well enough the sort of change that resulted in.
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A gradual corruption...? I didn't know that sort of thing could happen... on a physical level, anyway.
... You've had it rough, huh.
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[more years, more time to Suffer... he just shrugs. it's the downside of the lifespan.]
No cure on my end, though. Most of the damage can't be healed, and the corruption changes us too deeply to simply reverse it.
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You really think it's hopeless?
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[it's the way of things, sometimes, much as he hates it. maybe he thought once that anything could be healed; he's been proven wrong, since.]
As for the corruption, suppose I could always suffuse myself with another form of magic, but that's just a different type of change.
...what does your condition encompass, if you don't mind my asking? I can make a guess or two [you know, rock stuff], but.
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... I'm human.
Weak and talentless, I yearned to be stronger. A certain man decided to grant my wish... by fusing my body with that of a rock golem and blow demon. He made me into a chimera -- a product of science and sorcery.
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Beforehand, though-- feels like you'd do almost anything for it, doesn't it.
[a little quieter, there. he sought the void for strength. for power. compensation for his physical weakness.]
If there was a process, there must be a way to reverse it.
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Over the years, I've traveled across the land, seeking out sorcerers, chimera researchers, healers... At present, there is no known way to unmake a chimera.
I have to find a way to do something that no one has ever done before.
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[said with the exact sort of tired amusement of someone who knows how exhausting that actually is to chase. just invent new methods no problem...]
...you sound like you've retained your own sense of self despite that fusion, though. In that case there still should be some way to separate you from... well, from what isn't.
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[It's a hope he needs to hold on to.]
... Twisted as he was, the man who did this to me was a genius. Most chimeras are unstable... their minds or bodies break down before long. The conflict between differing wills is too great. But rock golems are constructs built only to answer commands -- they have no will of their own. And blow demons are weak-minded creatures that lack the intelligence or malevolence of pure demons.
I believe he intentionally made this body in a way that ensured the human mind would remain intact.
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[after a few moments of studying him, though, he adds:]
...if you worry about it seeming 'wretched' to others, I think it's an impressive enough body. You still have a nice face, you know.
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[bitterly.
...
he gets quiet at those words of reassurance.]
... I still can't accept this face, no matter what.
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[if the mood were lighter he might make a crack about being blue and pointy-eared not being so bad (he would know, after all), but it really doesn't feel like the time.]
But I do think it's true, regardless.