Chapter 49: Talking TD II

Settled at the table with Ann and a pair of teas, I looked into Ann’s eyes, she looked into mine, Buckle and Billie working around us. Her voice tickle seemed toned down, only making my toes twitch, rather than curl. “So, you don’t really like tea, huh?”

Taking a second sip I was sure I didn’t wince, the odd bitterness and puckering feeling in my gums entirely hidden. “Mmm, it makes my mouth feel… Tight? Mmm, no, tense.”

Ann smiled, reached over the table and snagged my cup, adding a dollop of liquid and a portion of sweetener, before stirring it a touch with a small spoon. Sliding it back in front of me, she nodded at it, indicating I should try again.

While my mouth didn’t dislike the next taste, it still wasn’t as enjoyable as the juices I’d had with my meals at the Pillow and Pie. I didn’t meet Ann’s eyes, glancing over at Buckle, working at shredding potatoes, the sounds damp and earthy. Looking across the table I looked down into her eyes and grinned. “I think I have a young palette. It’s better, but I don’t really enjoy it.”

Ann made a little smile and started talking. “Good enough, Monday. Being honest with yourself is only going to help… I denied my feelings and Buckle rebelled against how he really felt for a time. Doesn’t do a lick of good unless you are willing to make more effort than either of us were willing to do. Yes, there are things you can do about these feelings that might ‘fix’ them, but best to listen to what I’ve got to say first.”

The silver haired and eyed lady took a sip of tea and seemed pleased I allowed her to continue. “Dysmorphia has probably been a thing since before there were mirrors, but after the Mana showed up people could change in all sorts of ways no one ever imagined before it was around. I just thought an Air attunement would be so amazing, I might fly, it might keep me cool in the hot summers, maybe I could talk to people miles away on the wind…” She took another sip of tea and it was apparent that her blue skin made her lips look even darker purple than the plum tint of my own.

“Going by what you said yesterday morning, I imagine you probably don’t know too much about attunements or bloodlines. Well, attunements are easier to attain for some people than others, and high levels of emotion, desire, or the behaviors that can strengthen Mana use seem to improve the chance of acquisition. Our parents were aware, and really tried to keep us away from temptations or triggers until we had at least fully started to mature.

“I didn’t wait… being older than Buckle and very sure of myself at 12 when I found a chance, a baby bird high in a tree that sang to my soul I scampered up to claim its wind, claim its air… Anyhow, enough of my stupid. At the age of 12 I attuned to the Air and the sounds and vibrations that surround us all.” Another sip, and a sigh. “And within 2 weeks I was a silver haired, silver eyed freaky blueberry.”

Billie’s whisper of a gasp tore my eyes from Ann’s, and I saw shock and compassion in her eyes that were locked onto the back of the innkeeper’s head. My own eyes snapped back to Ann, trying to ignore that momentary distraction.

“And I kept going, and I felt awful, and I kept going, and I got teased, and praised, and hugged, and glorified and denigrated and ignored and shunned and I did all that to myself too. I wasn’t ME anymore, but I was more me than I’d ever been before. TD is the worst, because it is true and false at the very same time. I’m more me now than I ever was then, but I wasn’t the me that I was expecting to see.

“You talking about the nausea of seeing the grey skin and it feeling wrong? That is it exactly, 12 year old me would sob on you and commiserate all day. But I know it might be worse for you, you don’t remember what might have taken you to this choice. So your situation is closer to my dorkus brother’s, I think.”

“Ayyyy, if Willy was a early riser ya’d ‘ave toad in yer hair.”

“Yeah yeah, I love you too, Bubba.” Keeping her silver eyes on me she continued. “I got through it, learning to accept me as attuned me. 3 years of journals, 5 teenage relationships and some hay loft time with a couple of those relationships.” Buckle pressed his hands to cover his ears though a knife remained in his right clawed hand, and Billie was blushing as Ann just smirked. “And I got over it… Well, I made peace with it. And I love the benefits.” The word ‘benefits’ was drawn out and crawled inside my nerves, playing over my entire nervous system for the eternity of the 15 second pause she allowed before speaking again, in a slightly more subdued voice. “But it’ll crop up once in a blue moon and I have to remember the choice I made, and why I did it.

“Buckle’s years younger than me, and he just up and attuned to a toad he caught. At first our parents were shocked, and amused and warned him about not identifying too close with other stuff, but he attuned to the creek near where we lived, then my folks kept him inside, and he identified with one of his toys… and… before they could maybe get him to a Guildhall for advice or a System connection it was, what was it, I don’t think you ever fessed up? A mouse trap?” Buckle stuck a long tongue out at this sister, apparently a response to a rather old inside joke. “Anyhow, enter goblin brother Buckle, my beloved little brother of sharp teeth and generous nature.

“But goblinization is even harder on a body than attunement, and when he woke up again. Buckle was simply unrecognizable to anyone but family because of his eyes and voice.”

Buckle’s clawed hand grasped Ann’s shoulder gently and leaned in to talk. “E’en ta myself. Tag Ann.” They swapped and the Innkeeper went to continue the breakfast assembly as Buckle met my eyes. “I don’t ‘member if ya said anythin’ about the funny feelings, er I’d ‘ave said more ‘bout it.” Buckle noticed my focus on his lips as he talked, my focus on his words and he sighed. The sigh of someone putting on uncomfortable clothes because it was expected, but taking that effort because it was important to someone important to you. His words became deliberate, and not casual, clipped and sharp, not easy. “I was mad about what had happened to ya. Mad because I was not sure how to help ya”

A short look at the table top and my hands, then his own and Buckle continued to speak in clear clipped words. “I don't know how many cuts, rips, and hurts I did ta myself that first week after changing. Pa tied hides on my hands before bed after 2 nights, only soup after near eating my lip, and I was crying myself to passing out for days. That all wasn’t near as bad as just feeling wrong in my skin, my new skin. I just couldn’t feel I was me.”

A claw pointed at me and then at the goblin’s eye, drawing my attention back up from his lips. “I was not much fer writing, a bit younger than Ann. And my eyes said I ‘uz, I was not the same, but inside my skin I felt like me. Loved Ma, loved Pa, put up with Ann. Pa’s stew was still tasty, Ma’s stories still made me chuckle, and my Sis still told me what to do.” I tried to stay focused on Buckle’s eyes as a small peel of a root vegetable bounced off his skull. “But I ‘membered being different, and being the same too. So ya did good talking to us, I think. Talk it out each time. Talk to you, talk to a friend, talk to the air. Write like Ann, mebbe, but only thing helped me was saying what I felt each time; not live in it, but said it and moved on. I don’t think Bluebird was bein’ thoughtless. Have heard System helps with them change feelings, but don’t ignore what ya feel. ‘Kay Monday March?”

I nodded and repeated more of what I’d told Billie and some of the things I’d not, sharing about the way things slipped and slid in my head when I noted my own skin. Not like it was bad, but like it just wasn’t quite right. I pitched back into dishes as we talked and I shared that, even though I was so tall, I seemed a smidgen surprised in my own head nearly each time I saw myself look down into the eyes of others.

We bantered and chatted and taste tested and laughed and worked for quite a bit before there was noise from the stairs out front. Buckle not focusing on his speech so much and his normal accent of truncated words returned, I’d appreciated his consideration, but it hadn’t been natural for him.

We talked about times they felt good about self acceptance, and times they had struggled. Buckle had a nugget that I felt he wanted me to remember and made me agree. “Mebbe Bluebird’s righ’, these feelins mebbe fade fer ya fast, whate’er the reason, Syssy er nay. If they stick, ya find help, talk ta more folks, jus’ don’ ignore it. ‘Kay Monday March?” I agreed, but felt oddly self conscious about it.

Breakfast service started and I just flat refused to be chased off. I helped where I could, with dishes, or holding things, pulling out plates, pouring glasses of juice and water. I ate at the kitchen table, selecting the hash ‘n bake with potatoes, egg, cheese and bits of unnamed meat strewn throughout. The veggie hash looked good too, but I was happy with my choice. The donut I’d been promised had powdered sugar that stuck to my fingers and I ‘had to’ (I thought of Millie Goode) lick it off. ‘I may have a sweet tooth,’ I admitted to myself.

When Ann returned from taking more food out front, she informed me that Roy was asking after me, as I hadn’t answered my door. “I told them that you would join them before they had finished eating, I hope that was fine.” The tingles that she induced had returned, but the voice made them play a low jangle, rather than toe curling extremes. While I nodded, I felt a little sad about it. This morning had been pretty fun, despite the crying and trauma talk.

“I’m going to miss you all. Well, maybe not you, Bernie.” I teased as he had just come down and dug into some breakfast without doing more than nodding bleary eyed at us all. He smirked at me and I smirked back. “I’d like to share a hug with any of you if you are willing before I go. Totally fine if you aren’t.”

Bernie passed, but gave me a fist bump and a smile. Buckle passed as well, but held my hand and squeezed it, patting the back of it lightly, telling me to be safe. Ann’s hug was sweet and soft, as she whispered another thanks for helping her little brother.

Billie dusted herself off, trying to get rid of lingering flour and washing her hands before squeezing onto me tight for over a minute. Then she took my apron and walked around me trying to dust off any bits of flour I’d acquired.

It was a bit sad to go, but I didn’t sniff more than once as I put my hoodie back on, grabbed my pack and headed out of the kitchen to meet up with my fellow travelers.