A soggy mer emerged from the ocean, dripping with the stagnant coastal ichor that floated over the surface of the shore. It sloughed off of his flesh in green and yellow rivulets as he unsteadily waded through the waters toward the sandy shores of Almund, until at last he touched the wet sand of the beach. It'd taken some time getting used to the mer's body over the past few twenty-trials. Yet for that time he'd spent as a mer, he'd found it enlightening, inspiring even.
But now the time was for him to return to his place, his home, and begin again his important work. People took various different kinds of looks at Rakvald, as he walked in mer form along the cobbled roads leading up to his house. He lived in a richer section of town, and there were some prudes who turned up their noses or turned aside in abject shock and horror. Then there were others giggling at him, pointing and making a spectacle of the naked mer walking through their neighborhood on unsteady legs.
Rakvald was capable of dealing with the gawking. In fact, he relished in it, and invited it. Fascination with the flesh and the differences of various fleshes was part and parcel of his life's work. To cultivate such a base of interest did him no real harm. His ego, if it was affected at all, wasn't scarred by the experience of his shameful walk through Almund. It was bolstered if anything.
Before long, he found his way to his own house. There, he'd been followed by several busy-bodies who were intent on finding out if he was up to some mischief. Rakvald only turned around and waved his tentacle arm at them. "Hea!"
They shielded their faces at his greeting, and pretended to be about some other task.
Rakvald had one arm at least that was suitable for knocking on the door. Full of bones as it was, while the other was made of a mass of tentacles, ending in fingers more or less, but soft, boneless. He pounded on the door. As he did so, he projected the concepts that he wished to convey to Ildred, on the other side of the door as she arrived. I'm Home
She opened the door, and quirked a brow. Ildred never was one to get shocked, even by the sight of a naked mer in their land legs. Part of being brought up in the rougher sections of Scalvoristown, he wagered. The people gawking at Rakvald could've taken notes.
Rakvald projected those thoughts of home at her, and she shook her head, "Sorry, wrong house!" Before she could shut the door, however, he held it open. As he did so, the small mouth on his tentacle started shrilly coughing, and sputtering green pus. "Ey! Ildred, it me! Lemme in!"
Rakvald put on an expression, as if pleading with her. Then the realization dawned on her face, and she knew it was Rakvald. "Oh. It's you."
She said with a sadistic smile. Rakvald lowered his guard, letting go of the door. Then she slammed it shut in his face.
"Ahhh!" The little mouth complained. "Come on, you lug, break it open!"
Thus having been instructed by... well himself? His mutation? He began pounding and pounding on the door, until the wood fell off and cracked at the hinges. Finally, with one final kick, he slammed the door open, and rushed in.
Ildred made herself flat against the wall of the hallway, as he stormed by her, glowering all the while. "That wasn't very nice, Ildred!" The mouth cackled as he went by her. Before long, he found himself in his master bedroom, and there on the nightstand was the pouch containing his totems. Like a bag of marbles, which he'd lovingly crafted at the formation of each totem, he picked them up and began sorting through them. When at last he found the petrified tip of a Lotharro's pinky finger, he smiled to himself. He pushed it up against his chest, and assimilated the totem. He would not find himself without these totems ever again, and was determined to keep them close from now on, inseparable.
One by one, the totems were assimilated, until the last one, the talisman of a pygmy marmoset was absorbed into his body. Feeling renewed by his reunion with his totems, he allowed himself to bask in their company, as he could feel their essence tugging at the edges nad seams of his currently inhabited form.
Ildred made herself scarce. That was wise of her, given her immature and vastlyl rude behavior at the door!
Also, it probably spared her the uncomfortable vision of him transforming back into his Biqaj totem, Pygmalion. He felt for the familiar, etheric signature in his soul, trying to single out his old friend, the biqaj. Within moments, he began shifting. Bones cracking, skin tearing and reforming. Rakvald did what he could to enervate the pain to a minimum, but it was still a very uncomfortable process, changing shape. Especially from one so strange and alien, and belonging to what seememd like another world.
His bones cracked, reformed, shrunk, and reformed again. Until he occupied the form he'd dubbed Pygmalion. The old man's back bent over as he breathed deeply the fresh perfumed air of his bedchamber. A few more bits lying there, and he gathered himself up, and made for the wardrobe. A simple outfit of black linen was selected from the articles within, and over it a pair of leather boots, brown leather vest and trousers. Finally, he hid his tentacle hand under a glove, which fit into it fairly nicely. Pygmalion walked over toward a mirror, and looked at the bearded face staring back at him. The bat-like features were evident on all of his totems. It took getting used to. But Rakvald still thought he was the sexiest man alive. Even while in this old man's body. But one thing he was sure of, he needed a shave and a hair cut.
He made his way out of there, picking up a walking staff on the way out of the house. Ildred just stared after him, incredulous. "What? You're going to walk out just like that, after battering down our door!?"
Pygmalion whistled past her as he went, tapping the floor with the staff as he marched through the parlor. She followed after him, nagging all the way. "Where do you think you're going? You know, I had to dip into your stash to pay the taxes on this place! You could leave greater notice the next time you leave..."
Pygmalion turned on his heel then and smiled at her, fangs and all. His eyes shone with mischief as he drank in her familiar form. There would be time to make up later, he was sure. But for now he had obligations elsewhere. "Aww, were ya worried?"
He waved at her as he turned around once more, heading out through the open door. "Right, I'm going on a little trip, don't destroy the house while I'm gone, and take care! Feel free to raid my stash to pay whatever bills..."
She harumphed and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched him leave the house. Her little feet took her after him, and pursued him to the very edge of the threshold. She probably did it to make sure he was really leaving. Rakvald had to admit to feeling flattered by her attention.
Pygmalion smiled and nodded at the neighbors, who were situated outside, gawking still at the scene that had unfolded only bits beforehand. He winked and grinned at them, while they went pale in the face at the sight of his obvious facial mutations.
Pygmalion had a thought to visit with that curious Academic in Scalvoris before he set off for Quacia via his well trod dream-walking brand. He had plans, and his detour into the deep end of the ocean had delayed him long enough. Now, redoubled with the inspiration of the sights he'd seen underwater, to the new revelations just waiting beyond the horizon he was ready to finally begin his work in earnest.
It would be a long road, and inspiration wouldn't always be enough. Good thing there was always an abundance of flesh in the world. Rakvald worked only the finest clay.
