Sinking on Land [OPEN]

Grace made her way through the cafeteria line by herself, taking a wrapped, slightly unappetizing-looking sandwich and running it by the register before heading for an empty table. It was that time between lunch and dinner (linner? dunch?), so there wasn't a ton of people there, so Grace just sat down by herself and slowly opened the plastic wrapping. While she hadn't eaten in awhile, her stomach turned over just looking at the meager offering, and she gave it a half-hearted poke. She had started to feel somewhat unwell last night, and sleep hadn't made her feel any better. Still, she had to eat something... eventually. The young girl was aware that it wasn't exactly chilly in the building, even with the air conditioning on, yet she had kept her jacket on almost every moment since her arrival. Her powers were giving her physical state fits, causing her to shiver and shake even under the sweltering sun. On top of that, darkness would randomly form around her hand and arm, blanking out whatever she was holding, and now was no exception. She shook her hand back and forth until it dissipated, letting out a small sigh of annoyance.

She hated her powers. Well, that wasn't exactly accurate. They were fine... but not for her. It wasn't right for her. She wasn't supposed to have these powers, and they knew it, like this chilling darkness was sentient and punishing her for having something that wasn't rightfully hers. With a shaking hand she pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and started to text. Maybe he'll answer... maybe he'll help me.

A young student, no more than fourteen, shuffled through the lunch-line along with many others. On his plastic tray lay only plants. He raised his head above to see, gazing around for a place to sit. It seemed that this school, too, had its cliches. Although, he did spot a table with only one occupant: a sweatered girl, who, at the moment, was shaking her hand that emitted a dark light. Was it light? Shadow? Better not think too much on it.

The Winter boy made his way towards the table unknowingly silent. Something felt odd against his hand, the lack of feeling, really. He paused and held his tray in the crook of his arm as he looked over his hand. Yep, just as he suspected. The tips of his fingers had begun to change, short nails practically made of the same plastic as the tray. Exasperated, he put his attention to reverting their composition while he approached.

"May I sit here?" Heron asked, right behind the girl. Was she texting someone? Ah, stop being nosey.

"A-ah!" A voice sounded behind Grace, startling her greatly and causing her to jump out of her seat, slamming her knees against the bottom of the table. It was a miracle she had managed to hold onto her phone in her shock. Pain shot through her knees as she ended up dropping the phone into her lap, clutching the table with a hand and letting out a low moan of pain. "O-owww…" Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she slowly turned and looked up at the young boy standing above her, having asked to sit next to her. "S-sit?… Y-yeah, o-ow… Y-you can s-s… s-sit here."

Why would he want to sit next to her? There were plenty of other places he could sit. Her stutter was still very much pronounced, but her overall nerves were temporarily distracted by the throbbing pain in her knees. She gently rubbed them with open palms, biting her lip as another wave of nausea hit her. Grabbing her phone, she gently put it back in her jacket pocket, getting another look at the boy, specifically the tray of "food" he was carrying. Plants? Why did he… Should she even ask? She didn't want to seem rude, but it seemed a very… odd choice. Maybe it was a powers thing, but she didn't even understand her own; everyone else's confused her greatly.

Ooc- sorry, phone was taken

Ic- As he sat down, he glanced at the girl in his periphery, holding her knee in pain. He made a mental note to startle people only when he meant to. "Are you okay over there?" Heron commented. Yeesh, she seemed a bit jumpy. His coffee eyes had focused on the sweater, wondering if it was because of a side effect of her gift.

Truthfully, his plate was related to his gift somewhat, but also to morals. He'd been raised by vegans and had ended up the same. This also excluded overly salty and artificially flavored foods, mostly for the fact that instead of digesting those foods, his stomach would slowly become whatever it was he ate. It was pretty inconvenient to say the least. Sure, the same thing would happen with this salad, but it would be easier to stop and reverse.

After taking a bite of the sad-looking lettuce, the Winter attempted to strike up a conversation. "How long have you been here?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." The worst of the pain was disappearing, though there was still a dull throbbing in her knees. Letting her knees go and resting her feet back on the ground, she gulped when he attempted to start a conversation. Now she was stuck there; no way to escape. "U-uh, a-about two weeks." She mentally scolded herself, but she just couldn't stop stuttering. It was an automatic reaction whenever she was nervous, and she just seemed to be nervous all the time. "D-do you always eat plants?" She wanted it to sound like a joke, but it didn't end up sounding like one. Of course, they were eating, so she felt almost obligated to at least eat some of the sandwich she'd grabbed. Turning her eyes back to the table, she picked the sandwich up and took a bite. It was tasteless to her, and it caused her stomach to lurch again.

He nodded. "Two months." The girl was stammering a lot, he noticed. Far too much for him to be the cause. Possibly a phycological response developed from previous experiences; it would only cause embarrassment, he guessed. He wouldn't question or comment, however.

Oh, the extremely meatless meal sitting in front of him. "Pretty much. Partly veganism, partly uncooperative power," Heron responded, touching his finger to the yellow plastic tray. Slowly, his nails and skin yellowed and developed a vaguely rough surface, and he let it continue until it went past the first joint. It was a prime example. "I can become anything. I just can't control when. Becoming and returning from a literal vegetive state is simply... Easier. Throw ethics in the mix and here I am."

He seriously needed to work on controlling his power. Waking up as a ball of cotton again just would not do. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the girl's hands, wondering if the darkness would appear again.

Grace's eyes widened as his finger started changing upon touching the tray. There must be lots of strange powers here. "Th-that's not good. Th-that... that it's uncooperative." She looked down at the forgotten sandwich again. Thinking about taking another bite made her feel repulsed, so she couldn't even pretend to engage it. In a way, she felt shameful to be so adamantly against her powers when others had it a lot worse, but she just couldn't feel comfortable with them, and clearly they were not comfortable with her. Without realizing it, a small patch of darkness began spreading over the fingers on her left hand, covering them in conspicuous darkness.

"How do you... c-control your powers?" She asked her question in a tiny voice, partly due to genuine curiosity, but also because she wanted help controlling her own powers, which seemed to despise her and wouldn't leave her alone. Her left hand brushed across the discarded sandwich, and as it did, it as well began to grow shadowed. If she actually had any idea it was happening, she would've pointed to that as a prime example.

How it... Worked? To be frank, he didn't know how, it just happened. Really he just thought of the characteristics of whatever it was. Maybe if he focused while it occurred he might find out. The plastic went further up his hand, crossing the boundary of his wrist onto his arm. Once it reached halfway to his elbow he began forcing it back, slowly at first, then having the transformation nearly instantaneous.

He paused before speaking, forming words together. "Oddly enough, it feels like the atoms are rearranging themselves. I know the properties of this plastic; the melting and boiling points, hardness, etcetera.  If I'm not paying attention, it transforms slowly, but if I mean to do it, I can change faster than you can blink." Heron thought back to April when he scared the hell out of that one kid and had to become a pile of gravel to escape the kid's power. It was truly smashingah that was terrible.

About to joke about a time involving his dog and a washing machine, the barely touched sandwich caught his eye. It glowed with a purplish , somehow malevolent haze, the stuff still connected to the this girl's hand. "Your sandwich appears unhappy," the boy said, motioning with his own hand that had turned itself into a small head of lettuce, and he looked at it in surprise.

Grace nodded dumbly, knowing that any of that information would just go over her head... unless she had his power, that is. It was kind of tough to concentrate anyway with how uncooperative her stomach was being. The way his body changed to reflect an item's composition was very odd, though. It freaked her out a bit to watch his arm turn plastic, for example, or his hand into a head of lettuce. How did he keep track of everything that was going on?

"My...?" She didn't understand at first, but things became a bit more clear when she looked down at her sandwich. Eyes widening in surprise, she pulled her hand back, the darkness disappearing from the forgotten food as she attempted to will the darkness away; it only partially worked. "I-it's just my powers... I-I guess it's a bit f-finicky today." Or everyday.