Shift, withing, colling, weaving, flowing. Stretching, bloating, shriveling, hardening. Needles, blades, armor. Changing and reforming came with a draining heat. It was the same when I was piloting corpses, fixing failing organs, and torn muscles. Familiar yet different. Stronger.
'Blade.' Creating new flesh was even more taxing, and its effectiveness is the same. Living weapons, they retain their basic instinct even after being disconnected, allowing them to move or perform simple tasks. However, without any host to provide sustenance, they turn frail and eventually wither. And depending on their size and purpose, the time it takes for them to wither varies.
It was interesting, and something I never considered would be a part of me. Then again, most of what I have learned about my own kin was based on what I have seen and read. With both making me wonder if everything I knew was wrong.
'I can't have another vessel.' To think Yu'ri would reject it was odd; even more so was their lack of reason for doing so or lack of a proper answer.
"I can't."
"Its impossible."
"I can't have another vessel."
Those were his only answers, and as irritating as it was, there was nothing to do but accept it. A walking contrary. That is what they are, the complete opposite of everything I have experienced. And as much of a headache as they were, they were rather persistent in becoming my burden. No. A liability would be a better word for it. Yu'ri did not ask for anything, just a quiet follower, almost like a duckling or lamb. Weak, vulnerable, food for anything with sharp teeth. However, that made it clear that they were not a real threat. Both assuring and not.
Higala remains a week away, and with the rocky tundra ahead, the problem remains unsolved. How does one hide a child? Or rather, how can someone hide a mimic? They were small, but not small enough to hide under any part of me. Training them on how to act more like a human should help. Though making a proper alibi on how I suddenly have a child seemed impossible. Training them on how to act in a week seemed similar.
They understand the basics of emotion, but their expressions remain stiff, and with their current appearance. They look like a refugee or one of the child slaves from a red-light district. A smile too forced and with eyes that seen enough. A refugee or a slave, a possible alibi, but it was too far-fetched, as both were rare to see this far north.
"That's enough, no one smiles like that, unless they're drunk."
"Oh, thank you," Yu'ri replied, his expression again turning plain. To give them credit, they have been practicing every day, looking sad, angry, happy, and afraid. However results are still poor, and it would take months before it could pass as genuine.
Time, we did not have, and time and time we already borrowed. We have been camping at the edge of the living woods for a couple of days. Taking shelter in an alcove of roots from a fallen tree, waiting for the weather to become favorable. The rocky tundra had only three weather conditions: snowing, windy, or both, with the last being more common. And unlike the living woods, shelters were far sparser to find, and being caught while the weather had both was a sure way to freeze to death-
"YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY-"
Thud!
"You-" I cut them off, already knowing their question.
"I'm fine." Conversely, my hand was not. It was the fourth time it had happened, but by the third, I realized that a sudden overwhelming stimulus could make it stop.
Yu'ri's expression changed to what I could guess was a look of concern. Though their eyes were focused on the wrong thing.
"That's closer to a glare or judgment."
"Oh," They said, their expression quickly turning flat, before trying again. "How about-" again, I cut them off.
"That's enough, I think you've done plenty for today."
'Blade,' my broken hand spasmed before tuning into a cleaver. Hacking off some root from behind, my other hand picked up the sticks and tossed them to the small, flickering fire. As useful as the crystal ball was, it provided only light without warmth.
"How do you do that?" Yu'ri suddenly asked.
"Did what?"
"Do that," Yu'ri said and pointed at my hand.
'Huh, so that is what they were doing.' I thought before answering. "You just think it and." 'Blade.' My other hand, like the first, spasmed, crushing, grinding, molding flesh and bone until it turned into a cleaver. "Pop."
"That doesn't explain anything." He promptly said.
Yu'ri was right, but I had no other way of explaining it.
"Maybe you're overthinking it," I replied.
It was interesting seeing their hands twist and fold, skin melting to veins, then muscles, bones fracturing and gilding to muscles. Almost the same process as mine, and yet also so different. The result was a mess. Bony blades full of bumps and rough edges. Definitely not cleavers and more of a bad reconstruction from foggy memory.
Still dangerous enough as blunt weapons.
A warm breath left Yu'ri's mouth as his hands turned back to normal.
"Well, you could just make them into claws, as you did before," I suggested.
"I can, but I want those." Again, they pointed at my hands. "How do you do that?"
"Like I said, you just-"
"Can I touch it?" The question cut through the air and was answered by a snap in the fire. "Please?"
It was, of course, a harmless request, one with no real malice or hidden motive, and yet the answer came out longer than needed.
"…Fine," I said and held out one of my Blades.
Yu'ri scooted over and reached with both hands. Fingers, pale, small, and almost fragile like thin ceramic. The blade disconnected from my wrist the moment his fingers got an inch close to touching it.
Yu'ri caught it before it hit the ground, and his eyes darted to mine with a clear question.
"Thank you?"