It was bound to happen some time - OTA

[averygoodshot]

Aramis keenly remembers teasing Porthos when he had stepped through the door and become a woman. He had teased d'Artagnan and even Athos.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. He had not intended to do anything, really. He spent a good deal of his time praying, a good deal of time trying to atone for his sins.

Instead, this is what happens.

Much as his friends had, he has hitched his clothing tighter so that it may not fall down, and has fashioned something of a harness for ... well, for his new developments, as it were. He knows he could seek out Constance or even, if he was desperate, Milady, but he is not that desperate. He simply makes do and tells himself that God has a reason for everything.

He has always appreciated women and so maybe this is to test that? Who knows. Aramis does not question, at least not much. He is aware, though, that he looks a little foolish, his hair tied up, his clothing, baggy on him as a man, is like a series of large sacks on him, his boots far too big as he makes his way down the hallways. He smiles, though, not having a hat to tip, as he greets people. He knows he's not the only one who's suffered thusly. That's something anyway.

Comments

[praiseandglory]

Porthos frowns as he spots the woman in overly large clothes. Overly large clothes that look a lot like Aramis's. (Of course he knows his friend's wardrobe. He sees him often enough as it is.) So, after a few seconds' deliberation, he walks over, still frowning, and asks, "Is it actually you?"

Not that he expects, if she is a thief who robbed Aramis of all his clothes, that she would tell him as much. But he doesn't think any woman would voluntarily wear clothes so ill-fitting.

[averygoodshot]

And of course, this is who Aramis would meet. He sighs, nodding as he does. "It is. And if you would like to laugh, get it over with now, please. While telling me that you still have shoes that are somewhat smaller?

Now - now he understands what Porthos meant about walking strangely. Balance is vaguely off like this, his stride noticeably different.

[praiseandglory]

Porthos clapped his hand on Aramis's shoulder, grinning broadly but not, in fact, laughing. "I've still got things in my room, just in case. Come on," he invited his friend, turning heel to head back for his room and drawing the much slighter Aramis along with him.

[averygoodshot]

"It's as you said it was for you," Aramis tells him, having to take an extra half-step for every longer stride of Porthos's. "Though I like to think I'll adapt more quickly."

His smile can be heard as well as seen as he strives to keep up.

After all, Aramis is more graceful than Porthos.

[praiseandglory]

"I might yet reconsider my willingness to lend you garments more befitting your new shape," Porthos points out with a smirk, the one that says he's messing with his friend. He seems to finally notice how strained Aramis's gait is, and slows down his pace, remembering how odd it was to walk in that different body.

[averygoodshot]

"You have very long legs, if someone hasn't told you that recently," Aramis tells him dryly, catching up finally with a huffed-out breath. "This will last a week or so, as I recall?"

Ugh, that's a long time, suddenly. Perhaps he will continue to stay in his room, praying.

[praiseandglory]

"It lasted a whole lot longer for me," Porthos replies gruffly, but not without humour. He can look back and laugh - and pray that it doesn't happen to him again. "But less so for d'Artagnan, I believe."

[designerebel]

Cinna is alive. That much he knows to be true. Somehow, miraculously, he's alive. He isn't so far gone that he doesn't know that he should be dead. And as the memories of his time in Teleios flood his mind once again, as he knows that he is here alone in a strange place with no one that he knows in sight, he is once again thankful. He is alive. But his heart is not here... or maybe it is and he simply doesn't know it yet.

Katniss, Peeta, Rue, Effie and Haymitch. Grey. He's slumped on the floor in a carpeted hallway that has many doors. He can't stay here. He has to get back to where he had been before. People who are alive do not lie down and die.

This is what has him pushing up from the floor. He rights himself as fully as possible, his skin is bruised and bleeding in multiple places. He's alive. Still, he has to press a hand to the wall as he moves to hold himself upright, sometimes more surely than others.

When he sees another person he's filled with a strange mixture of gratitude and trepidation. "Excuse me. May I ask where we are?"

[averygoodshot]

This is new. Aramis has yet to run into someone in need, someone so obviously injured. "The Nexus, monsieur. Are you all right? Come, let us get you where you can sit down properly."

Aramis is shorter than he would normally be, much less strong, too. Still, though, he wraps an arm carefully about the man's waist, urging his arm around his shoulders. "This way. Did you only just arrive? Where is it that you've come from, if I may ask?"

[designerebel]

There's a crack in the well-put-together veneer that Cinna is trying so very hard to maintain. It's there and then gone again, like the oddity of a lightening bolt in an otherwise clear and calm sky. The Nexus. He isn't sure what he was expecting. The decor is too outdated to be the Capitol of Panem. This isn't a place he has ever seen where he was before here and Cinna knew that city quite well. The Nexus. The Nexus. The Nexus.

No Grey. The Nexus. His heart hurts more than any of his physical wounds.

He lets the woman help him to wherever he'll end up. Does it matter? Yes. Things still matter. This woman seems kind. He is thankful for that. He is not dead. He is alive. Cinna is thankful for that. His heart still beats and he still feels. He will eventually be thankful for that. Someday.

"Yes, I just..." Cinna nods, still somewhat rattled by what he has only just experienced in his home world, again. "Panem. I'm from Panem." He glances at her and looks for the first time really. Why does she look familiar? "And you?"

[averygoodshot]

"Ah, it seems I have been here more than not of late," Aramis says, mustering a smile as he guides this man to a bench to sit, easing him down as carefully as he can. "But I am originally from Paris. This may sound quite strange, but I do not normally look like this. The perils of this place," he offers, standing up straight in front of this gentleman and rolling up the sleeves of this horrifically large tunic. "I went through a door and came out a woman. My name is Aramis, however. Will you tell me your name? I can get you something to drink and tend to your wounds, if you need such assistance, as well."

[designerebel]

It hurts to sit, but it also feels so good to be still. Then again, Cinna knows that if he is still for too long that it will not be good for him. One can only keep certain thoughts at bay when they are still and quiet. This is why he is glad for the company and hopes that the woman is verbose in her own right, something to fill the silence.

The word Paris catches his attention. He has heard of that place before. Aramis and Porthos had been from there, the former being a very dear friend of his for awhile, for almost his entire stay in Teleios. The thought of him is something familiar and it soothes some of the ache inside.

That is, it soothes until he hears that name, and he remembers a certain curse. Now he knows why that face is familiar. He's seen it before. But those eyes do not look at him in familiarity as he remember them to. He remembers Katniss's shock at seeing him each and every time she left to Panem and came back. This must be like that. This Aramis is different than the one before.

"Aramis." He says the familiar name softly with a slight dip of his head. Once again his veneer seems to tremble and then rebuild itself. "I'm Cinna." Aramis will not find Cinna's name familiar. "I think I'll be fine, if we can just find a place for me to lie down for awhile." For forever.

[averygoodshot]

"Of course," Aramis tells him, resting his hands on narrow hips which feel very strange; he must however focus on his new friend, Cinna. "You will have a room here of your own, of course. "I know that arriving here can be a shock, however, I hope that you find it to be not entirely unpleasant. Are you able to walk? Or I can perhaps investigate which room is yours and help you get there?"

[armedagainstlove]

Athos does not need any information upon who the woman is. He is rather amused of course, but needs no hint because he can very plainly see the woman in Aramis' clothes bears far too many of his features and he also knows of the door's mischief, here. Smirking, he sips from his wine and regards Aramis before whistling to him, lifting up the bottle without even lifting his head from underneath the brim of his hat.

The summoning should do well enough.

[averygoodshot]

Be kind, Athos. After all, Aramis was, wasn't he? He hardly teased at all. Just a little, perhaps.

A drink, he thinks, would do him good, so he makes his way over to where Athos is, sliding into the seat across from him and brushing stray hairs from his face. "Yes, yes, I know. The fickleness of the doors."

[armedagainstlove]

Athos has been kind enough to pour a second glass of wine. He thinks that his kindness may very well be tapped for the day, if he isn't too careful. "Shall I compliment your ego or do you already know that you make a perfectly handsome woman?" Athos suggests, feeling as though if they don't cover the topic now, it will only rear its head later in insufferable ways.

[averygoodshot]

Perhaps were it earlier in their relationship, Aramis would have pressed; he has been known to have quite the ego.

Now, knowing what he knows, having experienced what he's experienced, he ducks his head, picking up his glass of wine, raising it in a toast of thanks. "Have I caught you at a bad time?" he asks. Not that Athos drinking is all that unusual, of course. But he figures he should ask.

[armedagainstlove]

"Habits are hard to break," Athos confesses, because his life has been somewhat decent as of late, if you rule out a war with Spain, a new captaincy, and the tentative truce on hotel grounds that he's established with his wife. He's been waiting for her and unfortunately, the wine is an old habit that flows rather hard. "Do I dare ask what trouble you're going to seek, like this?"

[averygoodshot]

"I do not wish for trouble," Aramis tells him, looking down at his laced fingers; how thin they are, how delicate-seeming (and he already had quite lithe fingers before he found himself in this form.

"Even if I cannot be at the monastery, I am ... I am attempting to atone for my sins and devote my life as best I can." He says it in that sincere way of his that can at times come across as wry, even in his female form.

[temperamentalsteel]

He didn't need to ask or make guesses, not in this mad hotel. Either Aramis had just enjoyed an amorous encounter and let said encounter wander off into his clothes or he had, like the rest of them, finally encountered the tricky door that had plagued them all too.

"I would have thought you might choose something a little more tailored, Aramis," he ventured.

[averygoodshot]

"If I had it, I would. I may ask Constance if she has something I can use," Aramis says and yes, yes, tease away, d'Artagnan, tease away. Some of his old spirit returns as he says, "at least I am attractive in this form."

It's small solace, but still.

[temperamentalsteel]

D'Artagnan coughed, a little embarrassed of what he was about to admit. "I have some thins that may fit. Since I've fallen through that door more than once," he explained.

"And if you tease me for it, I'll leave you to wander the halls."

[averygoodshot]

"More than once?"

Oh, d'Artagnan. Mum's the word. Aramis merely reaches - and he has to reach up a bit - to squeeze d'Artagnan's shoulder. "Thank you."

[temperamentalsteel]

He couldn't pretend that he didn't enjoy having some height advantage. Even as men, he often had an inc or two of height on Aramis and Athos, but having the chance to loom over Aramis was a treat.

"Just say a prayer that none of us goes though that door."

[averygoodshot]

"That I will do." Though it hardly seems as prayer-worthy as the other acts that Aramis is trying to work off.

"And how is Constance, by the way?" Aramis asks, not having seen her in some time - his own fault, what with boxing himself up in his room.