Not Afraid of You [Erik]

[Erik Stewart]

‘Previous behavior’. The whole school was filled with that proper vernacular. It left him with a faint after-taste of bureaucracy in his mouth.

But he didn’t have the energy to dispute it. There was nothing that compared to the pain one felt after their spine had warped and twisted, or had grown joints between them to make them flexible, or had curled in a circle or an S shape and was suddenly rigid again. There was a pounding ache in his skull, too; maybe his brain brushed against it as it shrank. Though none of it compared to the shrieking agony he’d experienced the first time he’d shifted – was it three or four years ago? – it was still substantial. He remained bent over at the waist for a good minute or so until he thought it was safe to move.

That look on his face was more than a result of the jabs of pain up his back. The transformation was good for Mike, in a way; he was drained by the shift and subdued by the pain. Erik was forced to consider his options.
He would’ve liked to do neither; the kid was as contrary as a mule.

“It feels like crap now,” he conceded. “But it don’t feel so bad goin’ in.”

No one in their right mind would choose to get berated by the school counselor – besides, it was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Erik didn’t possess an inkling of telepathy but he figured Dr. Neville had to be getting tired of his constant infractions; he had to have known, by now, that having Erik knock on his door was never a good thing.

He shrugged. “Just feels…kinda weird, I guess.”

Erik scuffed the dirt with the toe of his shoe, brow furrowed, head down.

[Mike Batista]

Mike could've said 'for what you did before', but 'previous behavior' didn't leave things open for interpretation and he'd had enough smart aleks in his time to be more specific. And Erik in particular he didn't want to keep sparring with verbally, especially when he seemed so tired out. The trainer wouldn't hesitate to tack on further detention hours, but he wasn't going to go fishing for them either when the kid was more vulnerable. He wasn't a telepath, empath, or super-perceptive, but he could see Erik weigh his choices and saw that 'RESIST ALL' was still amongst them. Being a trainer for hard cases for as long as he had came in handy sometimes; the smile at that consideration was completely internal. But a tiny one tugged the ends of his mouth when Erik chose the path of least resistance. It meant the kid could learn. He could control himself once he was at a certain point. This was good.

"Did it used to feel bad going in?" Mike asked softly, gently.

And then, "Weird? How? Is there physical pain? A headache? A big change in how you think or see?" He smiled a little wider, encouragingly. "Some kids can't speak right away after they switch back. You've got an advantage there. And a few retain a little of the animal for a bit."

He'd noted the bent over posture. "May I see your back?"

[Erik Stewart]

Erik pinched his nose. He wasn’t exactly what you’d call articulate, and when he was, it was to run off a stream of colorful insults, so he had to rack his brain for an explanation.

“Don’t know. Yeah, I guess,” he muttered.

Erik rarely deferred to any authority’s wishes with no strings attached, and he felt like he had a reputation to upkeep; there was an idea stuck in his head, too, that if he did they ‘won’ and he ‘lost’, and it was a particularly bitter defeat when it occurred on their first meeting. But a surly Erik was better than a confrontational one, at least. Now he just groaned a bit and rubbed his temple, still bent over at the waist.

“I don’t know,” he repeated, a little louder this time. “I don’t remember all of it an’ it’s too fast. Just…I guess it feels like my bones r’ movin’ around but…doesn’t hurt like it should.”

Erik didn’t respond to Mike’s request to see his back, just grunted and turned around unceremoniously so it was presented to him. He couldn’t see much of it so he was curious to know if it looked weird or whatever – though to him he never sensed any bending or warping, just a long, fiery ache. He couldn’t sit well afterwards for a good three days or so.

“It used t’feel like I was dyin’. Especially when I first did it. It hurt all over goin’ in and out an’ afterwards I could hardly walk,” he went on. “…Does somethin’ to my bones, I think…”

[Mike Batista]

From the short bits of conversation they'd had already, Mike knew Erik wasn't exactly orator material, but he thought it had more to do with not being asked to express himself verbally (meaning a lack of practice in something other than smartass retorts) than a lack of intelligence. Mike himself was not the greatest at speaking when it came to certain subjects, but also knew having to attempt doing it, if frustrating for all involved, at least got him thinking about how to say things. So when Erik's answers were less than enlightening, he accepted them at face value. The kid was in obvious discomfort besides, and that was never conductive to detailed speech. It was why Mike tried to give him words to use, choices, suggestions.

"Eventually I'll be having you pay close attention to how you feel during shifts," he said, "and we'll get it figured out. The more you can tell us, the more we can help you with the effects."

When his back was turned to face Mike, he gently lifted Erik's shirt to look at his spine. It didn't look abnormal, but it did look a little swollen and red. "You know, if it takes longer than an hour for your back to get back to normal, you might try an Excedrin. Just once. To see if it makes any difference. You want one?"

Mike didn't push medication on anyone, but he also didn't see the need for suffering when there was something that might help. The side of his mouth quirked. "Because you don't look fine. And I doubt you feel fine. And having your back be red like that along your spine probably won't do you any good in the longrun."

He'd done what he could there. If Erik wanted to keep being contrary to the detriment of his health... well, if there really was a detriment Mike would have to get a researcher or Dr. Nik on it, but if he'd been shifting for four years and wasn't either in chronic pain or had an obvious disfigurement it was likely temporary and Erik could just muddle through.

"I know it does something to your bones, but... could you be more specific? Has someone told you you lose bone density... or... ?" Mike trailed off, not sure how to continue with that. There were so many things that went on during a shift and every shifter was different. And there was not a lot of paperwork on Erik's brand.

[Erik Stewart]

Erik hadn’t been through a lot of discussion about his power. He was only slightly less ashamed of it than his orientation – or more (it depended on his mood). He knew simply that he was a snake and afterwards it hurt, and of his deadly venom: they’d made sure of that, probably because they didn’t want him to bite anyone and later claim that he didn’t know its effects.

Erik hadn’t bitten anyone yet, but there were times he’d seriously considered it, and a few subsequent close calls. Luckily, it was in a snake’s nature to give a warning strike; this usually sent would-be victims packing before he delivered a real one.

“I ain’t heard a’ that,” he said. He’d turned his head to peer over his shoulder the second Mike mentioned his spine had turned red. He couldn’t see it (obviously) but he didn’t like to think that his whole back showed visible signs of disturbance. “Bone density? What’s that?”

Erik had heard of permanent side-effects – things that wore down your body over a length of time. Whatever a loss of ‘bone density’ did to you couldn’t have been good, and he didn’t want to end up like Tomer or something.

“No one’s ever told me ‘bout that. Am I gonna break it one day or somethin’?” After much labor, Erik managed to straighten himself up. He could hear his bones creak as he did, like an echo that ricocheted through his flesh and into his ears. Tucking his shirt back down, he turned around to face Mike, ignoring the dull pain throbbing up and down his spine. “All I know is it moves ‘round some and it hurts for days.”

He considered the Excedrin one more time. He was usually quite hesitant about accepting things from teachers – or perhaps that wasn’t the word for it: he was instead unreasonably suspicious about anything they offered him. But his back did hurt.

“Okay,” he decided, at last.

[Mike Batista]

There wasn't a lot written about Erik's power, but what there was said there wasn't any long-term damage being done, just the usual shifter aches and pains. Mike had trained enough shifters to know 'usual' could still be pretty terrible.

"Having good bone density means your bones are strong. Means you have a harder time breaking them. As most people get older bone density naturally decreases. 'S why you hear about old people breaking hips and stuff. Shifters... sometimes they have stronger skeletons for what happens. Sometimes weaker, for the same reason." The Hammel researchers could usually figure that out within the first couple years, but sometimes it was a longer-term thing that didn't start showing itself till the meta was near Mike's age. With Erik, Mike didn't think the lack of meat on the kid's frame was helping.

"I doubt your powers will 'break' you," the old trainer said, "but you might hurt less if you had a little more mass. Weighed more. Had a little more energy to spare on it."

He had plans for that, though maybe having Erik eat a few protein bars before he came to training might help.

When Erik said yes to the Excedrin, Mike nodded and said, "One second, I'll get the water."

Back a moment later, he handed the still sealed bottle to the boy, and shook out a coated white pill. As Erik took it, Mike explained what work detention was, lightly, and said that his maintenance friend Mr. Alonzo would be expecting him tomorrow.

"Any questions?"

[Erik Stewart]

Erik didn’t know which way his skeleton was leaning, but he expected that he would sooner or later. He couldn’t fathom that going through this kind of pain, and having his body contort in such a way, would have no repercussions on his health at all…when he thought about it, it seemed almost impossible. His skin turned to scales. His muscles stretched and warped. His skeleton folded onto itself, became something else entirely. He often wondered if, one day, he’d ‘mess up’ the process – come out of it with a bone speared through his stomach or have an organ in the wrong spot. He’d never heard of that happening to a shifter, though.

And Erik wasn’t about to ask. At least, not yet. He glanced down at his body as if he’d just noticed it: his clothes hung off his shoulders; a pair of sad-looking chicken legs were all that held him up. “I’ve always been like this,” he said, and he had.

He spared a second to glare suspiciously at the pill, but he inevitably took it from his palm. It went down his throat, nudging and tugging as it went. Erik winced. His tongue swiped over his lips a few times as he swallowed, until he could no longer feel its descent.

“Whatever,” he muttered in response.

Obviously he didn’t like the sound of work detention, and didn’t care much for this ‘Mr. Alonzo’ either. Erik made sure Mike was aware of the fact as he retreated, with just about as peeved and sulky a glance he could muster, right over his shoulder.

(end? :3)