ORIGIN

Cepheus would always have a special place in Peach Scone's heart. The site where she'd first caught sight of other Gembound, where it'd gotten its tendrils on its first Shiny...

Cepheus can only hold good things. They'd signed up as soon as they'd heard. But it didn't disappoint at all. Peach Scone is...very surprised to see their new appearance. But it isn't a bad sort of surprised.

There's lots of other Gembound here, all in weird flesh suits like Peach is now. It's very strange to be walking, with feet, like most other creatures. Makes them dizzy. If they tried to move too much, they might just fall flat. SO they stick towards the food tables, leaning on them unsubtly.

Curious.

That's what she'd been thinking when the birds had come twittering to her doorstep—or, well, whatever the hole-in-the-earth equivalent of that was—bearing forth the invitation to the Palace, to the "Spring Ball". What was a Spring Ball, indeed?

And it was what she thought now, faced with a message on a mirror and a feeling of transformation happening live, all over her body.

Maw had already come dressed, as she often did whenever she moved through the world, ever since she had been given the gift of clothing. Disguised was, perhaps, a better way of putting it since she was hunched over in her cloak and had also deigned to cover her face in a layer of bark. Recognition of her form had always felt like a looking threat, especially with the troublesome demonhorse that tended to find her in the worst situations. And so, she hid. The rest of her outfit was not quite as timid, however. The Palace was a grand enough place that Maw had thought a cocktail of her finer-looking clothes befitting of it. The only problem was that Maw only had a concept of how the clothes looked and felt, not really how they made her look. So she came in a dress and tuxedo vest. Is that acceptable as a daring fashion statement? Perhaps.

What happened to her clothes had yet to be seen. Were she allowed to step into the ballroom, she would likely glance at the individuals scattered about before quickly deciding that simply grabbing something good looking from the food table and staring in awe at the live instruments would be best for her.

Jim blinked several times in shock as he stepped within the Palace and was immediately spirited away by a crowd of tiny, excited attendants. This was so... grand, and proper, and he didn't quite know how to handle it. Oh, but it was exciting! All these beautiful decorations, the towering marble architecture, the imposing yet elegant Hellswans and stately atmosphere--! He felt like he belonged here almost perfectly. If only he was a few cycles older; then he wouldn't be looking at everything from the perspective of a small fox kit!

As it turned out, though, the problem was taken care of for him. He didn't even know when exactly the transformation occurred, but when he looked in the mirror, he was no longer him. Well, he was. For some odd reason, the face staring back at him felt as familiar and right as his old furred, pointed snout. But he was several feet taller, now, and though the face was still youthful, Jim had no way of knowing that.

For all his intents and purposes, he was perfectly grown-up and ready for the ball. And dressed all fancily, too! Humming with excitement, he tried to think of what accessory to get. Maybe a nice, woolen beret? But he already had plenty of fur on his head as a fox. Oh! A cool, fancy suit jacket, maybe! He envisioned a white-gold jacket to go with his fur--but it seemed a shame to leave this tailored black jacket behind and change now. He'd come back for it later, Jim decided, and hurried on out.

Upon seeing the massive table of food, he immediately snagged a large chocolate chip cookie and took a huge bite out of it. A snack as he explored the rest of the party! He wandered around, craning his head to stare wide-eyed at all the flowers and ribbons and decorations, until he saw the giant ball pit. That looked... fun? Well, how often did you get an opportunity like this? Beaming, Jim finished his cookie and jumped right in, letting out a whoop!

This form, decidedly, did not suit Khavur, nor was it unbefitting of it. To be honest, even its own form was unsuitable for its purposes, and often unsuitable for its explosive emotions as well, so this change was altogether neutral with a peculiar but perhaps positive tilt.

There were people. Many came in forms similar to the one he adorned. He wondered who had been morphed from what. The mask over his new, singular (that was really weird) face felt redundant, considering anyone here would already be disguised by unfamiliarity. Khavur had known not to deny an invitation from the Palace, but looking around at what... little there was to do here, it made him wonder what it was all for. A slight feeling of unease was unshakeable as he made his way around the perimeter of the room, investigating the food, the music, the dance floor. He engaged with nothing and no one, for now.

A curious idea occurred—perhaps magic could serve as an identifier? Or were they all truly shaped into these small, bipedal beasts? Or was Khavur the only one of its kind out here?

The catawampus... is also here!

It's a very strange choice, bringing this type of creature into this type of establishment. It turns up its nose at the message on the mirror, probably disliking the concept of having to pick only one object to keep out of a selection of offers. Upon entry it heads straight for the food table as though none of the guests or the decorations or music are there at all—to the catawampus, a ball or a party is merely a banquet table. I wonder if its stomach will be as big in this form as it usually is. I know the beast itself is not wondering this, because the way it stuffs food into its mouth is... um. Not what I would consider proper procedure with this kind of face.

...

Faceless stared in the mirror. This was... itself? It reached out an arm in its customary curled fashion to poke at its reflection, a movement imitated perfectly by the thing in the black jacket staring back at it, but it was... difficult to belief. For one thing, the texture was all wrong. Why could it feel the silky-smooth slide of clothes across the skin of its arm? Its arms didn't have skin. They were mantis-arms, perfect for grabbing and scuttling across the ground.

Well, it thought, flexing its fingers, it supposed it could still grab things well enough. Though the loss of its snake tail (and the ability to see behind it, by extension) was quite disconcerting. (It flexed its abdominal muscles and found only the movement of flesh, not the open and close of a fang-filled maw.) As was the loss of its additional mouths. Well--there would be no violence or need to hunt prey at this ball, so... it supposed it could accept this, too?

It scuttled, for lack of a better word, out of the dressing room. It took it several steps to realize that it could walk without hunching over nearly ninety degrees, and several more to realize OH, it had forgotten to wish for an accessory! A bracelet might be fun? Green, to go with its necklace! And it could stick it on an ankle when it transformed back.

Hurriedly, it stuck the magically manifested jade bracelet on its wrist, and scuttled (with slightly better posture) out into the Ballroom again. It served itself a large bowl of stew from the long table, along with a good-sized chunk of fish, a pile of snap peas (it found the crunchiness oddly appealing), and a brownie. Life was good when you could eat without the limitation of a giant mouth on your stomach taking up most of the space. For now, it sat at the periphery, content to enjoy its meal, but... those instruments in the orchestra were fascinating. It could almost lose itself in the music. Perhaps... when it finished, it could even attempt to dance to it?

She wasnt sure what to expect out of the spring ball, whatever that meant. She'd simply found the invitation next to her one morning and decided, hesitantly, to attend, although she arrived with all her wariness.

She stood in front of the mirror, looking around the room, until her eyes fell on her reflection. Shock lacedthrough her and she took a step back when she saw herself face to face with a witch. Or...a human. She couldnt tell. But the realization sttled over her a moment later, as the reflection flinched back as well - that was her!

She leaned in, curious and unsure, reaching up to touch her face, inspecting herself slowly, and then she fwlt a rustle at her side, her eyes flicked down and from the pocket of her shirt, a little black triangle peeked out, looking up at her with beady eyes.

She laughed at the sight and reached down to pull out the rat. "Vaati, you're so small! Look at you!" She held him up to the mirror so he could get a look at himself and look very disgruntled at his new size before she pocketed him again and stepped into the ballroom.

The size of the place took her breath away and as she walled forward across the dance floor she looked at all the other people milling about, wondering if they were all Gembound as well, transformed for the dance.

She found herself, then, at the food table, and stood there, still watching the other people, wondering who was who and if she knew any of them, as she ate her way through a plate of cookies.

Beta didnt get it. Why did it look like that?! Where did its fur gone, the quills and spikes and many eyes? It was weird, only seeing out of two eyes all of a sudden, and standing on two legs as well! What the hell.

Stumbling into the ballroom, unsteady and bewildered, it crashed forward onto the dance floor and promptly ate shit, barely catching itself before it head slammed into the ground.

With a grunt it got up, but didnt bother trying to pull itself to its feet, wondering if it would even be able to get up againwith such a tall, spindly body. So it just sat back on rhe ground, legs crossed in front of it, and nursed the arm that had hit the ground, looling around for everyone else that it had come here with but with everyone else looking as strange...that wasnt going to work.

She'd spotted Vargas, after a time, and his air of confidence and power drew her. It wasn't that she had any idea who the hell he was--she didn't--but she'd slunk over like a cat (mostly because she was, in fact, a cat) and stood alongside him, insinuating herself into conversation. The fact that he'd been mostly indifferent to her presence hadn't dissuaded her. And in the meantime, Obieth had savored the threads of music winding along the air, the satisfying strangeness of the various (questionable) foods, and at one point, the luxurious feel of plastic balls across her shoulders. (She, like some others, had no idea that ball pits were meant for children.)

She was almost disappointed that her challenge to Elayne had gone unanswered; she'd have liked to get to know her better. That one's attitude had certaintly resonated, but it was what it was, and Vargas--though second best--would do.

If he acknowledged her. If she managed to get him alone, for her purposes. She'd been about to try her hand at flirting. Perhaps she could-... But--ahh, what was this? A dazzle in the eye, a flash of brilliant color.

HONK. SQUEAK. WHEEZE.

The sound of horrible steps, and... A horrifically grating voice. The host, she realized, of that show she'd once attended down in the Theater--well, she would hope that He would not make a second appearance here and now.

Obieth hissed as she jerked back from the little bug-vomit splatter, looking in disgust at the pale goop that fizzled down through her sparkling wine. Disgusting-!? he thought, too shocked to be particularly vehement about it.

By the time she noticed Vargas stalking off, it was almost too late; she hastened to set the wine down and follow, irritation sparking in her at the blaring sounds she made with every step.

That one's back, at least, she mused, glancing back toward Nemean. This form, and these sounds, had better not be permanent.