Eighth turn - turn turn, there is a season turn, turn, turn [Video/Action]

[antivanleather]

[It starts with the woods. OR rather the canopy as there is some muttering in a familiar voice, if in an unfamiliar meter. ]

I know this is somewhat difficult to grasp, but I am no more comfortable than you and as soon as we have done this we might go about hiding until the change has reversed itself. Yes? Yes. I suppose having the book facing us would help in the first place-

[The view shifts, swinging to reveal Isaac sitting cross legged and not quite glaring at Zevran, wings pressed flat to his back. The inherent strangeness doesn’t kick in until Zevran speaks- with a cultured, vaguely British accent rather than the warm tones of his native Antivan.. ]

Or, we can say nothing at all. [Isaac suggests, his restless frustration with the situation tamped down in favour of feigning indifference with a one-shouldered shrug. Then he’s looking away, considering his perfectly ordinary set of nails. He can’t quite remember the last time he’s had them trimmed blunt as an adult.] I don’t imagine anyone shall curl into a ball and die if they hear not from either of us in the coming days.

I’ve no intention to hide, we are going to explain what has happened- [A beat, Isaac’s lips pressing thin as he flicks his fingers at the feed in an aborted gesture.] I have those that worry for me and I know Hector will worry for you.

[He snorts, the line of his jaw sharpening as he stares cooly ahead as if expecting Hector to step out from the brush. He might, for all Isaac knows. With a changed body comes a complete disconnection from the thread of demonic energy that had bound them across great distances. The world feels quieter, stranger, emptier.] He won't.

[It comes without missing a beat, low-voiced and level but unwaveringly certain, neither it nor the flat look in his eyes leaving any room for discussion.]

So this is what has come to pass: Isaac and myself have found ourselves in bodies that do not belong to us. Isaac in mine, I in his. [A beat.] This is Zevran.

[Isaac rests his chin in his palm, dully amused.] Really now.

This is Zevran Arainai and this wonderful elf to my right is Isaac in my skin. Please do not mistake us for one another. Once this is over I shall make another announcement.

Oh, how very thoughtful of you. [A gently mocking smile hovers on the edges of his lips, never reaching his eyes.] As for the rest of you, [His gaze drifts back to the screen] do try not to soil yourselves until then.

I do try. As we are not in our proper bodies all leather goods shall be a week late, and any goods Isaac owes will likewise be postponed as I do not know his craft, he does not know mine, and I find working with nails like this most challenging. Honestly, Isaac, how do you get anything done with them filed to such points?

Oh, you poor thing. [His lilting purr drips with honey, though the effect is not complete until he has clasped a hand to his chest and given a pitying toss of his head with it, eyes soft in sorrow. If his theatrics don’t cement his identity than he honestly doesn't know what would. Some things never change.]

Rosso- [He sighs as he flips the journal closed, ending the feed. This would be a long walk home.]

[Both men can be found wandering back to the village from whence they’d woken in search of proper clothing. “Isaac” in something that isn’t quite so low riding and made entirely of leather, “Zev” in - more of the opposite. After a brief stop in the clothing store and weapons store they will make their way to House 51 for the duration of their transformation.]

Comments

[antivanleather]

"Nothing tastes right. Nothing too heavy for him, nothing from the side herb garden for me." He doesn't think they'd poison Isaac inadvertently through him; but he would rather not risk it. All the same he steps aside to wave them in to the common room. It was a quiet enough day thusfar, even with the whispering.

That they'll never want him again now that he's been in this skin, that he's a pet not a partner, that he's a dalliance, a fling, that nothing they said was true but these words, these sweetly venomous words were true and honest and real and they would never, oh how they would never leave him alone.

As he has every other moment before he steels himself with a tight grit jaw. Sucks out a breath and smiles through it, because he can. "We are well. He is taking to my natural dexterity better than I had expected, and I- am trying not to accidentally teleport about. It was startling enough the first time."

[relictusdeus]

Isaac minds his own business a moment longer, uninterested in watching lovers fuss over one another and inevitably feeling like someone pressing his face to a window to see how warm it is inside. He’s doubtful that he’s honestly being invited and drawn into the conversation by way of ‘you two’, and is similarly under no illusion that courtesy extended to him here is more than an act. A human simply doesn’t go from spitting indignation on a battlefield to sympathy when, from what he knows and has heard, there wasn't much of the latter to begin with.

Even so, Isaac decides he can play the game of politesse just as well. "We are doing swimmingly," He lilts from across the room, despite Zevran having already addressed the question. Perhaps he hadn’t trusted him to keep from rocking an already dangerously unsteady boat. He couldn’t blame him for that. “…all things considered.”

Unable to see much of the bag or its contents he makes a point of craning his neck, brows lifting slightly.

“Is that an apple?”

[250mhzwabl]

Jack's unused to the way Isaac's face makes words, but he thinks he gets the important words. Nothing, heavy, garden, well . . . and one more that takes a moment to parse out before he remembers his own time having traded skins with Isaac. Zevran's acknowledgement of newfound magical appendages drags a snort of out him, and he steps inside, grinning crookedly. "Is it just teleporting for you? Lucky. I definitely set a few things on fire the first day."

He chances a glance to Isaac, but there's no smirk there, no sneer, just a reserve that looks so odd on a form he usually associated with languid intentional carelessness. "Apple? Yeah." He looks into the bag, then draws out the mesh bag of produce, lifting it up. "Few of those, box of berries, some peaches . . ."

[z_jay]

That nothing tasted right made Eugene frown in thought, and something more, but he was careful to keep from looking pitying. He had the impression neither party would take that well. He really couldn't imagine how it must feel, being the only one of the four of them who hadn't had an out of body experience. He was here to try and smooth things over where he could, and he was resolved to that.

Right now, he felt like an intruder in a place he couldn't hope to understand. But for Zevran and Jack, he'd endure it. He finally looked over at Isaac, feeling an odd sensation settle in the base of his spine as he heard him talk with not-Zev's cadence. It was jarring.

"Figured some fruit and other things that don't need prep might be good for you both."

[antivanleather]

"Fruit is always acceptable- unless they make either of us ill. In which case shame on you for such clumsy attempts at poison, I have taught you both better by now." Zev breezes back to the coffee table once the door is locked behind them, fetching plates from a shelf off to the side. He's slowly growing more accustomed to this skin, these hands, enough so to feel confident when he returns to lounge upon the sofa.

"Please say you brought cheese. I wish to know what it is like using this tongue. Apparently it's quite appetizing to Isaac." That much is innocent enough to share, yes? yes.

[relictusdeus]

He glances between them with the cool, quiet calm of someone prepared for war when Zevran steals the joke weighing on the tip of his tongue and leaves him with nothing but a smile tugging gently at one corner of his mouth. This is Zevran saying it, though, and lovers are afforded a level of permissiveness he couldn’t hope to be shown - and never expected from anyone.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have. We are truly spoiled for choice.”

The clinking of plates and the promise of food has his mouth watering but he’s grown comfortable in the windowsill nook with a pair of throw pillow stolen from the sofa and he simply holds out a palm, his half-lidded gaze settling heavily over Jack.

“I should like to have the apple now, poisons and all--" He chuckles, low and soft in this throat. “-- should it be all the same to you."

[250mhzwabl]

Digging for the apple as bid (and what a relief it is, to have something to do with his hands), Jack comes up with it and passes the rest of the bag over to Eugene, trying not to fluster as his focus continues to flit between Zev and Isaac and his understanding of what either is saying becomes patchier and patchier. Focus, he knows he just has to focus, but right now there are hundreds of things on his mind besides trying to lip-read the surreality of familiar faces forming words all wrong.

"Gene packed the rest," he defers, hoping it fits in context, crossing the floor with the apple to hand it to Isaac. Even that neutral gesture feels oddly charged somehow, handing him food, waiting for another flicker of movement that he has less chance of than ever of understanding. He puts the apple in his hand, though, and it feels . . . alright, at least. Not relaxed, but alright, enough so that he even gives a rueful little look. "Hopefully Zev's body has been a little less useless than mine was?"

[z_jay]

It was more difficult on Jack, he could see the way he tensed with the verbal exchange he couldn't see. He wasn't skilled enough to morse all of what was said coherently and gave him a soft grin once he was mentioned. "Just basic rations, things that I thought would be most useful. And that usually just means food."

But there were a few things tucked under the food. A blanket, some socks-- randomly assorted things just to in some way, keep Zev warm. It wasn't because it was cold out, but it was the only way he could think to provide comfort in a very uncomfortable situation where touch and taste and manner were all compromised.

He reached for Jack, nothing overt, and mainly for touch to let him know he was nearby. "No one's trying to poison anyone, here. Just for the record."