Lessons Learned {Anja}

[cobra]

Curling up in towards himself, the sheen of his scales caught the light as they entangled with one another. A slow flick of the tongue trilled cautiously before him, tasting and smelling the air as Locke’s serpentine head descended down onto the perch he had slithered up to moments before. Crawling up the arch of the metal and glass outline of the building, he contently laid his nine-foot long body out; pulling it inwards when he found a distinctly nice, warm spot. With his head down, the teacher simply watched students interact from his about hip-high ledge. He wouldn’t dare going up too far, although he wondered if it was possible. He managed to blend in well, if not because of the dark color of potted soil—then by how small he could be. Pulling his body into a swirled pancake-like formation; Locke rested his head on the arch of his mid-torso, or the center of his length. His tongue still vibrated outside his mouth every once in a while, but it was more or less just a natural reaction as he dozed off.

Heat worked wonders for his natural way of insulation in this form, and Locke preferred to come here when his classes ended for the day. Returning home just didn’t really seem too appealing. It lacked the comfort, warmth, and entertainment that came with being surrounded by over dramatic teenagers. Speaking multiple languages aided him, especially when students who struggled with communication came into the mix. Teaching another language, multiple languages, no matter what the native might be; always helped young ones feel more relaxed. Some chose to speak to him in them, simply so no one else could understand what they were saying unless the said language was a part of their vocabulary spectrum. Locke enjoyed speaking to others in Russian, doing so when it came to private lessons helped strengthen two things in his students.

While Locke was a supportive teacher, he expected a lot from his students. The dozing snake had scared his fair share of peers; although, he didn’t necessarily mean to do so. He came off as intimidating, demanding that his students give their best, or leave his class. At the moment, though, he looked far more docile. After hours, a new side of him began to shine. One that was easy-going, relaxed, and simply desired some well deserved rest in the blinding sunshine. Having no eyelids to close, the snake-form of Locke Midgarstrum huddled down and curled his head against his long body. Tongue flicking out once more; he smelled those that were around him. Mostly, the area seemed to give off the scent of flowers and vegetation, causing the teacher to finally relax and fall into a slumber. Tail flicking slightly before resting down, a low rumble from his vocal box filled his head with white noise; used to warn other sensitive of hearing that he was there.

He’d lost count how many times students had almost stepped on him in the classroom. He really couldn’t say it was all too flattering, but when you were a svelte animal shifter; it came with the bill. At least his students had gotten more cautious when entering his class. Lesson learned. That’s what he was paid to do, after all—right?


((OoC: Fail, normally I write more--gaah--well! I'll kick it up once you respond, Shaggy.))

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[Anja Boujinsky]

If one could ever know silence, beyond that of a truly deaf and absolutely mindless person, they would know what it felt like at first mindset during her change. Everything beyond the sense of change, was silent. There was no thought. No emotion. No nothing. No sound could penetrate her ears, for she was certain she didn't even have any ears. It was only a moment, really. As if she had become a blank slate of paper that was folding into a silent crane, ready to take into another form. As if, in just that moment of peace, there was no fear of herself. No fear of what she was about to come. In fact, with no emotion she could have only seen clearer.

But it was what to followed everytime that terrified her out of her mind. In that blankness would be the crane, and with the crane came new abilities and a complete change from what once was. The “crane” thought differently. In fact, she was almost sure it didn't think at all. That wasn't to say that there weren't indications of some sort of thought pattern in her mind. No, there was something there, but it was so far from what she could understand, so far from being human, that she could only fear it. It was instead pure instinct. It seemed to take that empty slate into a full blast of “must dos”. As if the beast was always in a hurry. As if there was no time to lay down and relax in the sunshine after a hard day. Because, when you lived only days at a time, maybe time was of the essence. And though she highly doubted they knew exactly how short their lives were, there was a certain timely gene placed into their chromosomes.

Stuck. Move. Fly. Fly. Get out. Fly. FLY.

It wasn't exactly the fear that she might have felt in her normal form every time she found her clothes upon her new, and miniscule body. No, it was just a certain urgency, as if their fear was not the fear of death, but instead the fear of not having life. It didn't really make sense, even when she tried to explain it to herself, but in the end, what were flies there for? To breed, and to die. There was little more for them to do. So, maybe in the speediness in life, they found a new sort of fear. Death, of course would be their end, but through experience, as she would later come to remember it there was something else there. Maybe it was the push of stopping. As if their only fault was at their last few moments when they weren't flying around and doing what flies should do. When they weren't mating and making children. When they weren't finding the right sources to lay their eggs and maybe grab a bite to eat. As if, it wasn't death that terrified them, but the inability to go on as their genes so forth told them so.

Was that what it was like to be human? To fear only the actions we could no longer death. Maybe it was similar, but maybe, just maybe the words were spoken differently. She didn't take life, or death that way, for that matter. She saw abundance and a future in what she had been given, and she was there to take it. Death rarely came into her mind, and maybe it was that which made her different from the fly. Maybe the fly could relate with the patient told by their doctor that they only had days. Maybe, it would only be on her deathbed that she would ever be able to understand the blowfly, or insects for that matter. She knew of the species, families—but, what was in the mind of an insect? Did they even have something considered a mind with such a small body?

Her fingers fell at the side of her bed, and it seemed her mind had finally come to a sudden halt. Her eyes had been closed for minutes, and her body had already relaxed. Sleep finally took her over, but with the topic at mind it wasn't a surprise what came at her REM sleep.

It was his face, but there was no familiarity in this form. Instead, it was as if she was watching the man that had cared and loved her for all her life was on the screen of many televisions. That was to say, these televisions were the only item in her sight. There was no glossy store window, and there was no changing the stations. She was stuck on this nightmare, and probably would be for the rest of her life. This food was nothing she could see beyond a vessel for her future eggs. She could feel her brothers in the area already, though he was still pretty fresh it was quiet with no other creatures seemingly there to feast. They had the time to make it their own before the others came, and maybe their children would survive. Her body moved quickly from the hallway and into the kitchen were her meal lay. She landed on him after a quick inspection of her surroundings, the televisions telling her that nothing was in there beyond the few comrades hovering over the body. She could feel a male. She could feel the vibrations of his presence on the tips of her hairs, and they made her tingle.

It was with that she dived into the meal, landing amongst the wetness of an open wound. She could feel the soft flesh beneath her tiny legs, and her mouth went forward, as if to inspect, only for a moment. Others were doing the same, and it seemed more were on their way. She began to eat.

Her eyes shot open, and she could feel the tears instantly well in her eyes as that same vomiting sensation entered her throat. She made her way to the trashcan in one quick leap, but nothing but a dry heave would leave her lips as she kneel over the bin, crying for those memories to go away. Crying for them to stop bringing his face back into her mind. To forget the next morning when she had awoken next to the bloody frame of her murdered father, and the me—She took a deep breath and quickly pulled herself up. She didn't even take the time to make sure she had her phone and purse on her. She needed to get out of there. Walking always helped. It had been something her father had greatly appreciated, and something they had done many times together when he was having trouble writing. She had taken to his side, and they had talked about nothing... but yet everything. Why is the sky really blue, daddy? Why can't it be pink? I think it'd be better. She'd been a bit of a naïve child, but maybe that was all the reason she had gotten along with him. He had been the strong hand on her shoulder that had lead her to understanding instead of telling her what was and what wasn't. She had found out why the sky was blue on her own with his guidance, and through time, she began to dislike the color pink.

She moved quickly through the dorm building, not stopping even as she flung the door open. Her footsteps were quick as she made her way through the grounds, and edged her way towards one of her favorite places. The sun shone hard through the transparent glass and though it was quite muggy inside there was a certain aurora from the place that helped soothe her nerves. Maybe it had to do with being alone. Not many people went in, unless they were into horticulture of some sort, and even then, she hadn't met many.

Maybe she wanted to be alone with the plants.

Or maybe just alone.

She opened the door, and without as much as a hesitation ran in. The door slammed behind her, and she wasn't sure how it happened, but it happened in a matter of seconds. Her feet had hit something other than the floor, and she was certain it felt like a kind of flesh. A yell had escaped her lips, and her eyes went wide as she saw the giant Cobra.

“Holy shit!”

She fell back into a rather large potted plant, her body struggling with fear and tension to get away.

(OoC: Ommgg, I am SO sorry. I didn't realize how long it had gotten <3 I am seriously sorry. On a side note, it's about one of my longest yet. Yay? XD)

[cobra]

Everything had been going well, until he felt a distinct pressure on his midsection. A loud hissing sound overcame his senses and his crown expanded as his head shot up in warning. His fangs that had been so perfectly folded in his mouth began to stretch; propping into the position to bite or fire venom at the intruder. He struck at the woman once, twice—but never meaning to hit her. He had to get her back in order to lift himself up. Head shaking, he tucked himself around the place she had managed to put her foot on. Luckily both his flesh and bones were flexible. He didn’t have to worry too much about her; seeing the young woman before, his tongue flicked out to taste the air around him. The scent it held registered in his head. Yes, that was the one girl. He knew her, and obviously she was a klutz to have stepped on her teacher in a place quite known for being the hub for many shifters. The hissing got louder, mouth opening. If he could have glared fiery holes into his student in this form; he honestly would have been that very moment. Locke was a rough teacher, but being normally nonchalant came with the package. She’d been unlucky enough to step on him, which not only pissed him off—but also made him quite moody.

The change back was quicker then what most would expect, his scales paled. Arms and legs split from the solid body; tail curling up into the center of the human pelvic bone where the tailbone was located. His bones seemed to meld, forged into another shape as he arched upwards towards his full height. His eyes changed from an almost vibrant gold to an amber mixture with browned honey as the main pallet of color. He was pale, with dark hair and a svelte body. One of the more interesting, unique frames of the academy. Crossing his arms slowly, the last bit of evidence of his transformation was the lines of the scales now disappearing into the flesh. Leaving in it’s wake smooth, hairless skin. His eyebrows and knitted together, glaring at the poor girl before him in distaste. ”You could have killed someone,” it wasn’t an assumption or loose suggestion. Locke spoke it as fact, because it was. Any small creature, bug-shifter, snake-shifter, even mouse-shifter; all could have been hurt fatally in their animal form by a human stepping on their fragile bones.

”Lucky for you, it was only me.” Cracking his double-jointed shoulder, the teacher finally began to calm. His face turned docile. He was glad it had been him, even if he was sure there’d be a bruise on his chest by tomorrow. ”My bones are flexible in that form, but if you had used enough pressure; I would have had some damage.” It probably would have been a few busted ribs, but he’d had worse. Licking his lips, he moved over towards the young woman. Motioning his head as an urge for her to get up on her own two feet without his aid. There was an unwritten law in nature; if you couldn’t make it, then you deserved to roll over and become food for those that could. Many called the teacher cold, but the façade didn’t work on as many students and teachers as he wanted it to. He really would have aided in getting her up, but Locke wanted her to see that she could do it on her own. She didn’t need a teacher to push her, nor anyone else to lean on. He took quick note of her, and remembered the morph etched onto her file.

She’s a very small morph. How very—frightening. Locke understood her predicament. After all, he wasn’t the largest animal either. Venomous, yes, and most animals knew not to mess with him; but Locke had his eye on her file through majority of his classes. She was different. Once you had your shift, it was impossible to go back and change it. He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t interested in how her first metamorphosis had come about. Unlike her, however, he had no genetic trail to lead him back to the individuals that had birthed him and given him this gift. Locke envied most of his students. Those that came from families, that had healthy relationships; he couldn’t break the feeling of isolation within his flesh. Teaching was the closest he ever got to trusting others like him. At least Anja was soft enough that he could push her just hard enough to get what both of them wanted. He’d show her how to not be afraid, and perhaps—be a tad smarter. Honestly, who walks on a teacher? It probably wouldn’t be the last time he was stepped on, though.

”You should watch where you are going, now get up. There’s no need to mope there or be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” Shrugging his shoulders, he smiled just slightly. Not because he was happy, but instead because he found humor in this. Anja seemed like the type the could get easily spooked by his character. Although he’d seen her speak and stand her ground with other students, it was probably natural she was skittish around Locke. Most people were. They didn’t understand exactly how the teacher worked. He could go from being uncaring, to relaxed—and then to offensive and forceful. Rarely did he ever get violent. Never, ever, ever had he done so against a student. Yet he swore to protect the ones that came into the academy, that would never change. His heart was within his teaching; if not buried under the complex web he’d woven over the years.

”Why are you out here in the first place?” Locke’s eyes narrowed, glancing over the young lady in an unbelieving manner. He would have expected someone like her to be back in her room doing work—or socializing with friends. Yet here she was, in one of the quieter places on campus. ”Are you troubled, perhaps?” It was honestly just one guess, but when it came down to the bare facts; Locke was good at observing and prodding just the right spots. Men and women were easy to figure out, once you got the main three emotions down. Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth; Locke eased his shoulders back and felt his spine pop. The sound was only describable like bubble wrap being popped down the centerfold. Raising an eyebrow at the young lady before him, he again rotated his socket. The bones in his body still sore from the transformation to and fro. It honestly gave him quite the workout since more things changed then your average four-footed animal.

”I’m not going to bite, child.” Locke chuckled softly, waiting for the initial shock to pass thorough Anja before she responded.

[Anja Boujinsky]

Ok. Keep yourself calm. Keep yourself calm. It's okay. Where the hell did you put your anxiety medications? You know you're supposed to bring them with you just in case of moments like this. She took deep breathes instead, unable to remember if she had brought them with her or not. The hiss had set off her deep breathing, and as she kneel into the poor plotted plant underneath her feet, she could only think to change. To get the hell out of there. A cobra couldn't get a fly, could they? It was tempting, but she didn't want to have to relive that un—She watched as the creature moved and her heart gave a skip. Shit. Shit. SHIT. Think fly. Think disgusting and small and AGH. Her mind seemed to do a skip of it's own as her panic became shock. She watched him change from the cobra into a human being. She quickly turned her eyes, not wanting to see her own teacher naked, given that it was more than highly inappropriate. She heard his words but was unable to look him in the face anymore.

Her heart pounded and she could only find the will to roll into a ball and disappear. Maybe she should shift and get the hell out of there. God. How could she have been so stupid. He was right. She didn't like that he was right. Her mind hadn't been on the possibility of another being in the room, and in all honesty, she hadn't been looking where she was going. In fact—why was he even in there if he didn't want to get stepped on? Weren't there rooms for that? She had to put that in her mind to keep herself from hitting an anxiety attack. It took two to tango, right? She wasn't all at fault. She took deep breathes, and found herself recoiling back into the potted plant. The leaves brushed against her neck and she could feel the planting aching as she leaned into it. She wondered if it would survive after this, and then the panic came right back. She quickly jumped back from the plant, her hands hurriedly brushing over the leaves as if she could unwrinkle them with her touch. She turned her gaze back towards him, trying to at least show some kind of respect, and maybe make up for some face. I won't hurt you.

Those words entered her mind, but there had—well, maybe there had been some initial fear that a giant cobra was going to bite her head off, but that wasn't what worried her now. All she could see, or maybe it was just sense, was her foot on his small frame. She hoped that he wasn't lying and that he would be okay. She felt pretty bad, actually. She shuffled against the back of the shelves, nodding her head as if she understood him. She had to apologize, of course but she couldn't even bring herself to speak. Her mind was in a buzz of thoughts and she was pretty sure he might be able to see her heart thumping in her throat as if it might pop out and yell surprise! at any moment. But it didn't and instead she stared towards him, unsure of what she should do and how she should say it.

Getting up sounded good. She listened as if a dog to it's master and uncoiled herself from her fearful position. She relaxed her back, and stood up straight, but still leaned against the back of the shelves where the plants stood. She didn't move her gaze from the teacher, her eyes interested but her mind telling her she could make her assumptions later, because she needed to calm down first. It was true. Her mind wasn't stupid, after all. Fear changed perception all the time. But those words hit her hard. Are you troubled? She felt her heart give a jump and now she was sure her heart was shifting out of her throat and was no just in between her teeth. Invisibly, but there.

Another deep breath. She kneel over, her hands on her knees and she took her deep breathes. The embarrassment would come, she knew that but for now, she only felt the strain on her heart and her chest. She took her deep breathes, and closed her eyes, falling back slowly. Her bottom hit the ground and her hands quickly searched all her orifices for anything that resembled her pill bottle. She found a little notch in her back pocket and pulled out the travel case for her medications. A quick dry swallow of two pills. She didn't speak for a few moments but was able to soak his words in.

They helped, in truth. And she hoped that he didn't think it was his fault. This was only an addition to her dreams. As if the topping on the cake that would overflow if you added too much. A few moments and the pills did their work. Her heart slowed, and her breathing was slowly coming back to normal. Her gaze ran back up to him.

“I-I'm sorry.”

Her voice was soft, “I—Well, I'm. How did you control it so well? A normal cobra would have killed me for doing that, but you controlled him. How did you do that?”

Yes. Changing the subject would be the best, and hopefully it'd stay that way.