[PRP] Just a trim... (Aerona + Muerte)

[Sypon]

when your horns can give you away, get rid of them

muerte x aerona

 

[Sypon]

Why was she so nervous? Perist was just another rebel. He was close to Aprife, someone she looked up to as a superior and who she trusted implicitly in the Phoenix Initiative. Ergo, trustworthy. And he was a doctor - if you were a shady doc, you couldn’t get far. But then again, this was a collective of traitors trying to survive in the swamp, and… Ugh! Every time she tried to talk herself through it, she ended up thinking herself in circles. Aerona rubbed at her temples, just below her horns.

Right. Just do it.

She took a step towards the hive. Perhaps if Aprife was home he could take the edge off. Or maybe he’d make it worse -- damnit! She rolled her shoulders and her neck like she was about to stretch for a marathon, walked right up to the door and knocked.  

[Melancholies]

Muerte on the other hand considered himself an explicitly trustworthy individual, if you asked him such. As it was he was enjoying a nice book, as he'd set aside some of his recently acquired funds for some new reading material. The featherbeasts perched around his work space snoozed delightfully.

Individuals coming to the hive was not a rare occurrence. Usually it was trolls looking for Aprife, but on occasion they were looking for Muerte instead, which made sense given his role in the Initiative. When he answered the door and saw Aerona standing there, he honestly assumed it was probably the former.

"Invasi is not in at the moment." He said presumptuously, tone dull. He didn't look particular bothered at least. "Unless you're wounded and very good at hiding it." Aerona didn't seem injured, unless she was dying slowly internally. Wouldn't that be a doozy.

Sypon

HENLO

 

[Sypon]

“Heeeyy!” Aerona gave a wave and something that was half of a finger guns. Of course Aprife wasn’t here. Well, off to the races, then.

“Actually, Doc, I’m here for you. If you’re available, that is. I’ve got an identity problem, and now that I’m doing more covert ops I should probably make some changes to the old money maker.” She generally waved her hands around her facial area.

“Namely, my horns. I could probably keep an inch of the stumps, but do you think you could cut ‘em off?”

She took even breaths. Her tone was casual, but the concept of losing one’s horns was either a sign of battle fortitude or being cast off as a drone - no in between. This would be important, but it was also a matter of identity. Damn if she hadn’t gone through enough soul searching already, though. Ready or not, it was time.

Melancholies

HALO!

 

[Melancholies]

Muerte watched the overly casual display that Aerona was giving him. When she motioned to her face he got excited for a bit, but when she mentioned it was only her horns it all but vanished. Rats.

"Your horns." He repeated as if he was processing the request, "Well. Yes. I do have the proper instruments that could... facilitate that." He adjusted his glasses a little--they were a new frame he was testing, one that could accommodate his still organic eye without interfering with his now robotic one.

"You're rather fortuitous though, as I do so happen to be free at the moment. Come in, don't mind the featherbeasts. Or do. Just don't step on them... they're quite dull at times."

The interior of the hive was cozy at best. As Muerte had mentioned, there were a number of birds that seemed content by the various windows in the hive. Many seemed to be snoozing. Muerte wasn't one for decoration, at least nothing seemingly sentimental stood out. His section of the hive was built more to accommodate the birds than anything, at least until one reached his laboratory. It was littered with documents, papers, notes--small trinkets and strange, outlandish projects lay on various counter tops in piles that could only be described as haphazard, if not meticulously arranged at the same time. Thanks to the recent infiltration of the space base, Muerte and Aprife had amassed quite a bit of shiny new tech. It pleased the greenblood.

The main table was a tad more clean than the rest of the counter space, and it accommodated a few notable items; some beakers filled with brightly colored liquid, a preserved hand floating in formaldehyde, and a stack of coloring books to name a few. The floor was also clear of any renegade hazards.

"Now, you know horns aren't exactly known for growing back." Despite the chaos, it was clearly organized to Muerte as he expertly navigated the mess, "I don't care what modifications anyone wants to do to their body, but I suppose it's still good faith of me to ask if you're absolutely sure with undergoing such a procedure." He held up a complicated machine that whirred--apparently on accident--as Muerte jumped slightly before shutting it off again. He set it down before looking for something else.

Sypon

 

[Sypon]

“Ah! Thanks,.” She mumbled, looking sideways at him while starting to enter his hive. What was this guy’s deal with birds? She supposed she’d seen a few lusus-swarms in her day, but the idea of keeping pets was kind of an oddity. Unless this was some kind of harem. She decided not to think about it.

She looked in awe of the technology that the rebels had gained, feeling something like pride swell inside of her. “Damn… This is some good stuff. Excited to see what you do here, doc. And whose hand is this?”

There wasn’t much space to wander, but plenty of places to look. Aerona carefully navigated through the greenblood’s many things, grateful that there was some semblance of organization. And that, if she were to trip on something and topple a mysteriously liquid-filled beaker, the doctor was right her to give her a hand. Ha. A hand.

Her idle thoughts were a good distraction, but Muerte snapped her back to the present. “Yeah…” She rubbed the corner of her eye, sighing. “I’ve got to commit to my future, and these babies are holding me back. They’re unwieldy and identifiable. Can’t have that in Covert Ops, y’know?” She looked at the doctor’s horns, noting their usefulness for holding up his spectacles. “Plus, they get in the way of hats.”

With a swallow of a dry lump in her throat, Aerona gave Muerte a double pair of finger guns as she deflected her hesitation with humor. “Ready whenever you are.”

Melancholies

YAYYYY

 

[Melancholies]

"Hm?" Muerte looked over from his searching at the hand in question. He gave a curt laugh as his hand waved dismissively, "Oh! That! Yes, yes, a very fulfilling story." He turned back to what he was doing. "You see, we already had a turncoat doing the betraying and backstabbing before--I don't know--that Vidari lout decided he was jealous and wanted some attention. Errade's hand is what I like to call a reminder of what happens when you're just a tad too trusting."

Muerte slowly walked back over with an automatic sawzall. A dignified chunk! filled the room as he popped in a charged battery pack. "But enough of that. Sit down and try not to move too much--I would rather not treat you for any unforeseen injuries. Actually, it might be better for you to close your eyes. Keep any sort of fragments from injuring them." His finger clicked the trigger as a test and the blade whirred into life. He'd opt to give her a pair of glasses or goggles, but he was essentially chopping off the only things that would keep them in place.

Better get it over and done with. One Aerona was situated, he immediately got to work. The whirring was loud and incessant as the teeth of the blade ate against her horns, and in turn each one eventually fell into Muerte's hands as they cut through.

"Well then." Muerte actually looked fairly pleased with the saw, "That worked splendidly!" And good thing, too. He hadn't been looking forward to using his trusty, albeit cumbersome bone saw. He had both of the horns set side-by-side on the table.

Sypon

tadaa!

 

[Sypon]

“Holy s**t, that’s Errade’s hand?” Aerona’s eyes widened. Goosebumps zipped up her arms, and she shivered. “Damn, I heard the story, but… Damn.”

Aerona had missed the first horrific betrayal to befall the rebellion, thankfully. She’d heard whispers, tales of it. A full force of Phoenix Initiative members, slaughtered. And Errade, thankfully executed. It made Aerona sick to her stomach. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what the doctor had done with her other bits. Had he kept just her hand, or were there other haunts waiting in his cabinet drawers? She reminded herself not to look in his thermal hull, and suddenly blinked. “Wuzzuh?”

Ah, yes - safety instructions. Aerona sat herself down and took a deep breath out, whipping her braid over her shoulder and doing a few stretches in preparation. She swallowed, fidgeted. Finally, gave him a nod. “Okay.”

The buzzing of the saw filled her thinkpan, tearing and rattling against her skull. The sensation of being jarred, shifting, vibrating out of her seat, was almost too much. Aerona’s eyes were so tight that they teared up. But then - it was done.

Aerona relaxed her shoulders, clenched as tight as could be. Her head seemed to bob down lower on its own than she was used to - lightweight. She twisted her neck to and fro, looked up to see where her protruding horns were as much as she could. Nope. Her hands explored the rough, flat cuts now protruding from her forehead. They were still warm. Even feeling them, she couldn’t identify the bulky horns sitting nearly comically next to each other by Muerte’s side. Her throat was dry. It was done, but the decision was just sinking in.

No use letting Muerte in on her doubts, though. She could cry in her own hive.

“Thanks, doc.”

Melancholies

WOW THAT FEELS REALLY ORGANIC, REALLY COMPLETE IDK IF U WANNA GO ON OR WHAT