2858/Butterfinger Ritual

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Butterfinger Ritual
Date of Scene: 15 October 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Buttercup, Nixe




Buttercup has posed:
A second sun in the sky is not something that goes unremarked upon in this day and age. Once Puddlecup gets home and slithers under her door, she solidifies and plugs in her phone. By the time it's charged? Social media is widely reporting that the second sun has disappeared, and speculation is being wildly flung as to the nature of the event. Puddlecup heaves a sigh, and treads barefooted over into her little kitchen nook. She does not, I repeat, //not//, live like a goddess. There are cracks in the wooden floor, she's tried to cover most of it with mismatched thrift store area rugs and pillows. A bucket is collecting water from a crack in the roof. She crosses through the fourth floor apartment and opens her fridge. The light flickers and she pushes a few boxes of sticks of butter aside to grab one from the back. She's legitimately never done this before, and can only hope it still works, despite her body having a new inhabitant. She puts a bowl inside a pot, lighting the stovetop and then placing two sticks of butter into the bowl to let them soften, while she takes some ribbons and braids them around a reindeer antler, singing an old song with a soft smile as she does. It's a soothing rite, soon her place smells of warm butter and she's taking the bowl from the boiling water, gasping at the sudden pain from the heat. A grimace, and she takes a towel and gathers the bowl into thetowel to carry it with her to the door. Opening it, she sets the ribboned antler on the threshold, then, dabbing her fingers into the warm, soft butter, she smears the material up and down her doorposts until they're good and slathered thick with the stuff, issuing prayers in an old nordic tongue. Wheresoever Butterina might be dallying, she finds herself with a sudden yen to wander. She can pause, but is restless, not necessarily even knowing where she's going. It may take an hour-- it might take several hours. But soon she'll be at the butter-smeared door, with an almost irresistible urge to lick the stuff from the doorposts. It smells //amazing//.

Nixe has posed:
It takes a while, quite a while in fact, but eventually an unnatural glow shines into Buttercup's window, signaling the arrival of her body on the fire escape. There's no roar of flames, no alarming sirens, and no blinding second-sun glare. Someone's gained at least some control over her powers in the time away.

Peering in through the window, Nerina squints across the small living room into the apartment and across towards the doorway. Her skin is a burnished, dangerously bright white, but it's no longer glowing like hot iron.

Buttercup has posed:
Puddlecup comes to stand before the window, putting her hands on her hips in mixed exasperation and gratitude. She's dressed, in a pair of mesh track pants that hang low on her hips, even with the drawstring pulled tight, and pool around her feet. A cute midriff tee shirt with a wide neck rounds out a nice enough set of jammies. She considers sending herself around front, but she finally decides discretion is the better part of valor, and she lifts up the paintstuck window for other-her to come in. She gestures to the door, and there's a bowl on the floor next to it, filled with more congealed butter for Butterina to have for a snack, if she wants. "There you are."

Nixe has posed:
By now she's chased an urge all the way to Puddlecup's abode so there's little hesitation in crossing the threshold. A hand on the window frame, a strong, athletic leg poked through, and Buttercup half-hops and half-crawls her way inside, stepping down off the sink and onto the floor. A dry desert heat rolls off the naked Asgardian like sweat from a prize fighter as she looks at the waifish blonde.

"You summoned me," she asserts before moving past to approach the door, giving the naiad a wide berth for fear of burning herself. Nerina drops to all fours to collect the bowl. Manners are for later.

Buttercup has posed:
Buttercup folds her arm, cocking a hip in a manner that would look better annoyed if she had more hip to her. "*Yeah*," she admits, "You destroyed a bunch of stuff and drifted away, remember?" she asks pointedly. "I don't know what's happened or how we're going to fix it, but you need to, like, take better care of that stuff, and quickly," she sighs. "You have an important job, now, and you might have to do it for-- I dunno how long. So you've got to learn." It's weird, watching herself go all dog-like for the butter. Yea, she remembers that primal craving. That sweet butterbliss. But she's just not influenced by it. A total out of body experience.

Nixe has posed:
Nerina scarfs down the offering with all the delicacy of a hungry animal, tipping it up and drinking the butter like water. It's not only the urgings of the ritual at play; Buttercup need only look into a mirror to understand why.

As she drinks, fresh pulses of heat fly out into the room, warming the small apartment like an open oven door. The body-switched vagabond pauses in her zeal and wills herself to slow down, rocking back onto her knees and holding more tension in her body.

"Rrr... how do you move like this?" she grumbles to the naiad at her back while licking the inner edges of the bowl.

Buttercup has posed:
Buttercup treads back across the mismatched rugs to the fridge, pulling another stick of butter and peeling the wrapping from the top half of the stick like the world's least healthy banana, bringing her usual post-work snack to her doppelganger. "I-- I just do. You have to make the sunstuff small inside of you," she guides with a sigh. "You have to hide it. You are its safe place. When no other sunlight survives, none of those who want it all extinguished can be able to find it in you," she urges. "Hold it tight, keep clenched, and once you've packed it down far enough, it's easier to hold," she hands over the cold stick.

Nixe has posed:
Nerina sets the bowl down and sighs with back still erect, shoulders still squared, and appreciable tension still holding on across her whole bare body. "You know... I think I understand what that's like," she murmurs.

It's subtle, but the radiant glow on Buttercup's skin fades and the out-rushing heat cools into a warm haze. The new bearer closes her eyes to let out a breath and reopens them cooler and more collected - physically and in expression.

The offered stick is accepted and Nerina takes a bite. "Do the same thing with that body," she instructs simply, pointing with the butter.

Buttercup has posed:
Buttercup lets out a little breath of laughter, looking a little less concerned as Butterina seems to be getting the hang of it. "I'll try, but I need to work on your abs," she smiles, then, taking a deep breath, she wobbles her head from side to side. "You're so... loose. It's actually kind of nice," she closes her eyes and rolls herself into a firm stance, holding her core firm and arms at her sides.

Nixe has posed:
The naiad in Asgardian form grins. "I meant guard and hide yourself. I'm looser than that," she adds with what might be a touch of pride. "Try a split."

Buttercup has posed:
Buttercup can do a split in her normal form, too. She's bendier than she looks, and once the tension of holding in the sunstuff becomes nothing more than a mild muscular background noise, acrobatics come easily to her. She steps onto the carpet and then slides down slowly, then, tilting her head, more quickly, keeping her back arced and chin lofted with a dancer's poise. "Oh, that's... smooth," she smiles, rolling onto her back and then onto her elbows, raising her legs into the air and then spreading them horizontal and even a bit more so. "Nice. It's so easy." She bends her knees and rolls back into the end of a backward somersault, coming to her knees. "Sorry I left your clothes in the street. But you burned mine, so I guess we're even. Do you wanna go raid my closet and put something on?"

Nixe has posed:
Nerina smiles despite herself to watch the acrobatics. It's an interesting display with the loose pajamas on but there's something... pleasant about the Asgardian's vitality where the naiad's own gloom normally hampers anything that doesn't promise money in return. "No, I would just burn it," she dismisses. At the mention of clothes though she halts and sets down the butter before it melts in her hand.

The naiad looks back at herself with a sudden seriousness in her green eyes. "Do you leave it all there?"

Buttercup has posed:
"You're going to need to learn to wear clothes eventually," Puddlecup is being practical, and fairly firm on that point. She rolls up to her feet with a bounce and pats her way back toward her bedroom, ducking in and then looking back out to make sure the former Naiad is following. She opens her motuh to reply, but then her face contorts. "Hm?" she looks distracted.

Nixe has posed:
"I asked 'did you leave it all there?'," Nerina presses as she follows a little ways behind the naiad, still self-conscious of what her heat could do to... herself.

Buttercup has posed:
"Oh," Puddlecup answers, shaking off her momentary oddness, looking to her side and then back over her shoulder with an apologetic twist of a smile, "Yeah. Sorry. You probably needed your keys and wallet and everything." Well, so did she. Fortunately she could get in and grab her spare key from her apartment. And she only lost a couple of bills and her pre-paid charge card with about a hundred bucks on it in the conflagration. Only. Her bedroom's about what you would expect from the look of the living room. A little hole, kept neat enough, with a bed in one corner and a closet that's missing its door to the side. She's got a small variety of clothing hanging up, mostly comfy lounging type gear, a couple cuter pieces, and then-- well. Enough strappy things to lead someone to the simple conclusion of her night job. She's not embarrassed of it, much, though. Or she's too distracted to be embarrassed, folding frail arms across her stomach as her back curls forward. "Uhhh," she enunciates, feeling oddly like a pull of taffy over here.

Nixe has posed:
Nerina frowns sternly as she stops in the doorway and leans her arm against the wood. It's a testament to the vagabond's learned control that it doesn't start smoking. "Yes, I'll need to go back for those," she critiques before pausing and quirking an eyebrow. "What? Did you eat solid butter?"

Buttercup has posed:
"Nnnnn--" Puddlecup begins to deny doing such a thing to poor Nerina's digestive tract, but she's busy wresting with the waistband of her tracksuit, which threatens to slide down over increasingly bony hips as her torso lengthens between the waistband and the top of her midriff-cut t-shirt. Feeling quite near to fainting, she manages to lean against the side of her bed before crumpling onto it. "What's going on?" come woozy words of bafflement in a no doubt changing voice.

Nixe has posed:
Nerina's brow furrows, then her eyes bolt open in alarm in time with a sudden flash of light from her body. "You idiota!!"

Looking around frantically, she ducks back into the kitchen, then growls at the empty countertops and rushes over to the naiad's side. Sliding in on her knees, opens her mouth and drags her hand harshly across her teeth before holding it out to Puddlecup. An ugly, uneven gash opens the nymph's face and even a few flecks of Asgardian blood splatter the carpet in Nerina's haste.

"Quickly, drink!" the new bearer insists sharply, taking her occupant by the back of her hair and pushing her down even as the long strands of blond begin to pull inwards and turn black.

Buttercup has posed:
"Wh--" Puddlecup has seen her share of battle in her day, but seeing her own person bite herself and then being asked to drink the //unpleasantly hot// crude from the wound? That's mixing with the fainting feeling she's already experiencing and making her ... him ... them? fall back into the bed with a swoon.

Nixe has posed:
Nerina shifts quickly to support the falling nymph with her free arm, guiding her down a little softer while all-but shoving her bleeding hand into the former-Asgardian's mouth. "Drink!" she repeats emphatically. "Bebe!!"

Hair shortens and turns black, the bony woman's shoulders widen and thickens as her chest stretches apart and flattens. Her spine lengthens, her taut skin pulls in even tighter over a frame that's losing what precious internal structure it had to spare, and the room is getting rapidly much, much brighter. For once it's not because of the living sun at her side and even the simple bulb overhead is already eye-searing.

Buttercup has posed:
Buttercup isn't exactly drinking, but there's definitely blood getting into their mouth. Arms flail weakly and flop over the top of their face, hiding it from the light and getting tangled up in the much more vibrant and foreceful armage that's trying to feed her own blood to her. Buttercup is never having brats again, that's for damn sure.

Nixe has posed:
'The change continues unabated despite the hot, coppery liquid forced into her mouth and Nerina sneers in disgust as a messy beard sprouts around her hand. She continues to hold it for Buttercup and prop the Asgardian against it, waiting for ... something.

Something doesn't come and in a few seconds more, Buttercup's nightwear is clothing a pale-skinned, black-haired young man - and a very, very thin one.

Buttercup has posed:
Buttercup settles, just a little bit, once the transformation is done making her feel quite so Alice-level wonky. He breathes deeply, moving somewhat awkwardly to shift around nd lift a hand to his mouth, making a disgusted face. "What was THAT all ab--" he complains, then hears his own voice and claps both hands over his face, feeling his beard. Eyes shoot wide, then immediately regret it, "AAAAAAGH!" he screams.

Nixe has posed:
A hot hand clamps itself sharply and firmly over the transformed young man's mouth and Nerina lets him fall flat on his back as she grabs a pillow from the top of the bed and drops it over the top half of his face. "Yes, you're a man now, because you're an idiot," she snaps tersely, glowering at her host.
"You're not human, are you?"

Buttercup has posed:
Buttercup is only hyperventilating a little bit, more in pain from the light than anything else, just now. He'd already turned into WATER, turning into a MAN is not the weirdest shit that's happened to him today. "//I'm// an idiot?" he scoffs a little bit, "You're holding actual solar matter inside of you and //you// thought I was human," he points out, maybe a little salty.

Nixe has posed:
"I'm a human that can turn into water. You can spray fire; it wasn't so special," Nerina defends of herself, taking her hands away and getting off the bed. The transplanted naiad walks over to tiny bedroom's door and closes it as she turns off the lights. "And you forgot *all of my things*," she adds pointedly while keeping her back to the body-swapped and transformed Asgardian.

"They had better still be on the ground when I get back there," the bearer grumbles, clenching her fists.

Buttercup has posed:
Buttercup peeks out from behind the pillow, tentative, when the lights go out. Or, most of the lights go out. Nobody can stop the sun-maiden from at least glimmering a little bit in the dark, and with an inexperienced driver behind the reins she's probably doing a little more than that. "Hey, you-- burned up all my stuff, plus a bunch of //other// stuff," he points out, trending toward a regular sulk before he closes his eyes and sits up, resting his hands on his bony knees. Centering self. Even if there's no sunstuff to center around, a thing which finally brings some liquid to the corners of his eyes. "Look, this hasn't been a good day for either of us. I'm sorry I was short with you," he apologizes. "Do you want to go back to the park? I can help you look for your stuff," he offers. "I can also break you into your place for you if you need. Do you have a spare key at home?"

Nixe has posed:
The room's only candle, a strong Asgardian back, doesn't turn away from the door. "You're going to stay here and not leave this room for anything less than a fire, and I will go collect my things alone," Nerina commands as she grips the doorknob tightly. The blonde-haired woman glances over her shoulder and her green eyes glare warningly. "A serio. Do not. test me."

Buttercup has posed:
Buttercup draws his lips together tightly, not used to taking orders like that, nor in much of a mood to. But she's been given care over the naiad's body, and even if the naiad doesn't seem to care much for the sun-maiden's own safety, he's willing to be a better steward and act as the naiad wishes. He just spreads his palms faintly in a hapless gesture. "Are you going to put on clothes before you go?"

Nixe has posed:
"I was thinking of flying there," Nerina considers, "so no. Unless you have something fireproof?"

Glancing down at her injured hand, the bearer flexes it and smiles quietly at how quickly the self-inflicted wound is healing over. One more thing to like about her new body.

Buttercup has posed:
Buttercup takes a deep breath, unsure of how much he really wants to put this semi-stable person in any of her good armor. "OK, go ahead," he finally shakes his head. Well, his body's been flying around naked all day already, what's one more trip, huh? At least the other one isn't skilled enough to control the heat, so by the time she's hot enough to fly she'd also just be a gleaming white figure. Hard to track one of those down. "You are coming back, right?"

Nixe has posed:
"Of course," Nerina retorts brusquely. "If *I* wore my clothes I would just burn them too."

A bright beam of light streaks into the room as she opens the door to the rest of the suite, "Now stay," and steps through.

Buttercup has posed:
Buttercup stays. In the dark. On his back, then, slowly, curling up onto his side. The bed feels weird with all these sharp edges, but he wriggles into some of his pillows and is finally comfortable. The quiet gives him time to think, time to think leads to a sort of semi-meditative, fruitful boredom, and boredom eventually sparks a bit of curiosity he can't quite stamp out, no matter how he tries. Oh, hell, who can blame him? He timidly sneaks a hand down under the waist of his track pants. If he's gonna be a guy, now, may as well check out under the hood.