[Her fingers dig into the mattress, and there's an aborted yelp - it sounds a bit like a gasp - but her leg is back in place. There's movement, like something crawling under her skin under Chase's hands, and she visibly relaxes]
[The rippling under her skin isn't a standard aftershock. He spreads his fingers, lightening his touch but tracing that skitter of movement as far as the span of his hand. It's leaving him feeling like he should blink and look again (like nightmares he's had, to drunk to wake himself. Like catching sight of something in the darkness - but just shadows, just shadows after all)
With a slow exhale, he sits down in the chair beside her.]
[Or that is a really strange skipped generation. He doesn't apologise, or ease up - there's nothing he can do about the peroxide sting and, after her leg, he's sure she's not delicate enough to complain.]
There are only 10,000 shifters in the world or so. We don't have a census, but that's a rough estimate. Most of them are not breeds like mine, or Daisy's.
I still hold clinics in the underground. [This is his secret. It's also an answer of sorts.] Most of those patients don't choose to live there because they're afraid.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[action]
Nodding, he rests one knee on the seat of the chair he'd pulled across, bracing his own hands behind her thigh.]
On three. One, two- [It's the kind of thing you can't hesitate over. Snap and twist, like breaking a neck in reverse.]
[action]
Much better.
[action]
With a slow exhale, he sits down in the chair beside her.]
It's a start. Next we should get you stitched up.
[It's a delicate face he pulls, then.]
And I can get something to wash your mouth out.
[action]
All right.
[action]
He's had a glass of his own. One won't make his hand less steady.]
So you're a woman who turns into a spider.
[action]
Some people might say I am a spider who turns into a woman.
[Pause]
They wouldn't be correct. I'm neither, really.
[action]
You're just capable of both. What are you?
[action]
[She pauses and just lets him do what he's doing]
In the most laymen of terms, I'm a werespider.
[action]
Is your sister Br'er Rabbit?
[action]
[She seems to be relaxing even more]
My sister - Daisy - she's more like...Sobek. Since we're dealing with secrets.
[action]
You're stretching my knowledge of foreign... [And there's the thing, what's the term.] myths?
[action]
But she is more human than I could ever be.
[It seems pain softens Saya a bit, or maybe this is revenge on Daisy for sending Chase here]
[action]
(He'll perhaps be more careful of startling the girl sleeping on his bed)]
What makes her different?
[Not the reptile, the humanity]
[action]
[Saya hisses a little - just a little - when he cleans one particularly large cut]
[action]
[Or that is a really strange skipped generation. He doesn't apologise, or ease up - there's nothing he can do about the peroxide sting and, after her leg, he's sure she's not delicate enough to complain.]
[action]
[She keeps her eyes on him]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[Quiet, because these are secrets.]
The others, they kept more of their humanity. The other breeds. Not us.
[action]
If there were ever a place where being something other than human was the norm...
[action]
There are only 10,000 shifters in the world or so. We don't have a census, but that's a rough estimate. Most of them are not breeds like mine, or Daisy's.
[Most of them are wolves]
[action]
[And it's still a secret.]
[action]
[She stays absolutely still as he sutures her]
You won't tell.
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]