[Noah St Cloud]

Chlorokinesis hadn’t been an ability that Noah considered dangerous. It was the control of plants, after all. He figured the worst thing it could do was sprout some flowers around him or grow some extra leaves on a tree, so he wasn’t really expecting the gifted to shoot vines at him like spears.

Sure, getting hit meant he could stop the assault and throw some vines back in retaliation, scaring the gifted away. But it also meant he got hit.

There was a gash on the left side of his waist. No organs had been punctured but it was a big enough cut that he couldn’t slap a plaster on it and call it a day.

Blackstorm’s hideout was too far away, and who knows if there would be anyone there with healing powers and/or medical knowledge? Going to a hospital would be unwise too. They would ask questions, and potentially get the police involved if they didn’t believe whatever excuse Noah could make up on the spot. He was trying to think of an appropriate Blackstorm agent he could call for assistance, but somewhere in his scrambled brain he remembered Esha instead.

Her arrival in Los Eurosia had kicked up a bit of a fuss in Blackstorm’s recruitment department; she was the closest thing they had to an out-and-proud gifted, one of their only examples of how the world (or at least, India) would react to someone with special talents. It was a shame she was staying low-key in America, but everyone had their faults, Noah supposed. The important thing was that Esha was a medical student. She could help.

Staggering around the East End didn’t draw attention like it would if he were in a richer neighbourhood. Passers-by automatically avoided eye-contact, probably assuming he was drunk. He had Esha’s address on his phone; Blackstorm wanted him to approach her eventually, though probably not like this.

Her apartment took longer to find than he would admit, but he managed it. He leaned against the doorframe, lightheaded, and knocked on her door. He had no idea how much time passed before it opened.

“Hi there,” Noah grinned with bleary eyes, clutching his bloody side. “Could I trouble you for a moment of your time?”


((Esha Mullur Let me know if anything needs to be changed and feel free to move Noah around 😊 ))

[Esha Mullur]

Everything was set in place. Upon the pedestal by the window, an idol of the blue skinned, four armed Vishnu sat. Before him, a small platter of rice flour accented with mango leaves.

Esha gingerly entered the room, a slender and lit match in one hand, a bowl of water in the other. She sat herself down in front of the statue, placing the bowl down and taking a deep breath. She slid her hand along her slicked back ‘hair’, her quills having the glossy shine of someone who just stepped out of the shower. She was calm, tranquil. Taking a handful of water into her right hand, she sipped and followed with a brief mantra “Oṃ Acyutāya Namaḥ. Oṃ Anantāya Namaḥ. Oṃ Govindāya Namaḥ.” Following this, she took a couple steady breaths and lit up two candles next to the idol, ready to continue the ritual before she heard a knocking at the door.

Esha’s focus was broken for the moment. Her thoughts of the divine fell back down to earth, wondering who could possibly be knocking at her door. Anyone she knew should have known she scheduled this time for worship, perhaps she needed to update them on her schedule. With a huff, she rose to her feet, eyes darting around the room for something to wrap around her head. The rest of her was already covered by her homely saree, and she wasn’t about to answer the door with her porcupine head. “Coming!” she answered with haste as she rushed over to the next room, grabbing a headscarf from one of the hooks in her entryway. Like applying gauze, she swiftly wrapped it around her head, looking at the mirror in her entrance landing to ensure her quills were properly hidden.

Most days, she wouldn’t have opened the door without asking who it was first. She was in a bad neighbourhood after all, and perhaps, she would make a better habit of doing so in the future. Today though, she casually opened the door, finding a man within an inch of his life asking for help in a manner similar to how people would ask for a cup of sugar.

Her hands flung up to cover her mouth as her eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Oh my god” was all she could muster out, a slight panic arising within her. A quick foray into her mind would have her balancing between the options of calling 911 and/or rushing this man to the hospital herself, but there was a lot of blood. It wasn’t the freshest of wounds, he needed medical attention as soon as possible.

Quickly, she grabbed his body without questioning. She had no clue who he was or why he was at her door, but that wasn’t the most pressing matter on her mind. It was whether or not he was going to live. Moving all 162 pounds of him (hopefully with a bit of help), she placed him on the couch, leaving him to naturally rest on his own.

Like the Florence Nightingale of her time, Esha rushed off to her bathroom. She ripped a towel off of the drying rack and tossed it back into her living room, basically right at Noah’s head. “Apply pressure to the wound!” she instructed before scattering back into the bathroom. With a clunk and the sound of metal clattering, began digging through her cabinets, her head peaking out of the door once more. “Time of-” she squinted shaking her head. “No, uh… what happened? Is there anything, um, inside you?” she asked in her wavering tone.

[Noah St Cloud]

“Oh my god.” Esha looked (understandably) shocked to see him standing there. Noah might have laughed at her wide-eyed stare if he weren't hoping she would handle this ordeal with a confident poker face.

He continued to smile, hoping it would calm her down. “Nope, it’s just me.” He wasn’t sure if she heard his joke; his voice felt a little quieter than usual.

Thankfully, she didn’t waste any time fussing and got straight to pulling him into her apartment. It would have been awkward trying to convince her not to take him to a hospital. Then again, was it a bad sign if she seemed to think they didn’t have time for that? He let her guide him to a couch and dutifully laid down, somehow managing to kick his boots off before putting his feet up (being an unexpected guest didn’t mean he had to be a rude one; he might end up getting blood on her furniture but he’d try to avoid getting dirt on there too).

He flinched away from a towel suddenly flying through the air towards his face, hissing when the sudden movement made his cut twitch.

“Apply pressure to the wound!” Esha ordered before rushing out of sight again.

“Aye, aye, captain,” he sighed. He rolled up the bottom of his sweater and the shirt underneath it to expose the wound, then pushed the provided towel down on it with both hands. He grimaced. It didn’t feel great, but he imagined passing out from blood loss would feel a lot worse.

“Time of-” She stopped abruptly. Noah’s eyebrows shot upwards and he shot her a disbelieving look, guessing what her next potential word could have been. Did she just…? She shook her head. “No, uh… what happened? Is there anything, um, inside you?”

“Nothing inside me. I’m no expert but I think a few stitches should sort me out. You can do this. I believe in you.” He decided to answer her second question first; it was much simpler. Some light praise and encouragement couldn’t hurt his chances of survival either. He hesitated to answer her first question though; if he said anything about gifted, would that throw her off? He was doing his best to promote a calm working environment for her. “I fell on a sharp stick. It only caught my side.” Not his best lie but surprisingly not his worst either. He changed the subject. “Did you just try to ‘time of death’ me? I don't look that bad, do I?”

[Esha Mullur]

The mystery man remained calm and collected, not exactly what she expected from a stranger with a bleeding wound in their gut. It seemed as though he knew more than she did, primarily, that he knew her better than she knew him. At least, he knew enough to assume that she had enough medical training to help him with his wound. Did someone in her apartment complex direct him to her apartment for treatment or was there something more going on? Questions for later, she supposed.

For the time being, Esha pulled out her first aid kit, along with a set of surgical scissors and miniature flashlight from the drawer of her bathroom vanity.

Hurrying back into the living room, Esha nudged her coffee table out of the way with her knees, before plopping the kit down on her rug. She too would fold toward the floor, kneeling right before Noah’s abdomen. She was still in a bit of a panic, though as she popped the lid of the first aid kit she began to calmly breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth, almost ritualistically. She snapped on some surgical gloves and lurched forward, motioning for Noah to pull the towel away.

At the mention of stitches, Esha became a bit wide-eyed again. “Stitches? Stitches should be done at a hospital, not on my couch” she spoke lightly, as if the situation was still a bit beyond her. “I’ll clean the wound and get you patched up, but you should check in with a doctor” she added as she took a closer look at the wound.

Admittedly, she was more panicked when the mystery man first arrived because of the location of the wound. A lot of internal organs are squished in the abdomen, and really, her first instinct would be to expect the worst. As she took a look at the wound itself though, it seemed to be mostly superficial, however, those were the most insidious types of wounds. It was still possible that an organ could have been punctured. “Are you… feeling any numbness on your left waist?” she asked as she placed her hands on either end of the gash.

As she retrieved the mini-flashlight, she looked back at Noah with a perplexed gaze. “You fell… on a stick?” she repeated back to him. Okay, so, it was likely the man was doing something he’d rather not admit to. She supposed she should have guessed as much if he didn’t try to call an ambulance for himself. It might be that the story was too embarrassing, he didn’t seem like the type to get into morally dubious trouble, or so she thought. How could such a pleasant young man?

She flicked the mini-flashlight on, then popped it in her mouth as she gently spread open the wound, illuminating what she could so that she could properly identify the depth of the cut. She popped the flashlight out of her mouth once more, cringing a bit at Noah identifying her slip up from earlier. “No, you look good… I just, uh, usually work with dead bodies” she admitted as she pulled the towel down to apply pressure again. “I usually connect working on somebody with that phrase, but not to worry, they’re dead before I work on them, not after.”

[Noah St Cloud]

Noah’s eyes followed Esha as she hurried to his side with a first aid kit. Maybe he should have studied medicine too; it looked fun, he felt like he was in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy even though she technically hadn't done anything to him yet. He watched her prepare with interest, but as she moved towards his cut Noah decided to focus on other things – like his doctor’s prickly secret.

Logically, he knew she had pufferfish quills. Yet no matter how much he stared, he couldn’t see any of them. Despite his unexpected arrival and her subsequent rushing around her apartment, her saree and headscarf were still intact. She had covering herself down to a science. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t so busy being disappointed.

He gave an exaggerated groan when she told him he should check in with another doctor.

“Aw c’mon, don’t you want to give me stitches? It’ll be good practice,” he pressed. “Unless you don’t think I need any, then that’s great! But if I do need some, I’ll just head straight home for my sewing kit and I’m sure my handiwork won’t look as pretty as yours.” He hoped that his threat to work on himself was appalling enough to her sensibilities that she felt compelled to do it instead. If not, he could probably watch a few YouTube videos on the subject to guide him, but he assumed a regular sewing needle and a roll of cotton thread weren't exactly proper equipment.

Esha’s question about numbness made him pause. His cheerful expression fell and a crease appeared between his eyebrows. He was reminded that if the right nerve endings had been sliced, he would have had a lot more to worry about than DIY stitching. God, he would kill that plant-controlling freak if they ever crossed paths again. “Numbness? No, I can definitely feel it,” he muttered. It was a white-hot feeling that made him sweat and his stomach feel like it was doing flips, though he was doing his best to ignore it. 

Her perplexed gaze lifted from his wound to meet his eyes. “You fell… on a stick?”

“A sharp stick,” he confirmed, grin returning in the face of her warranted scepticism. He could tell her the truth later if he felt like it. Maybe he could even use the fight to convince her to join Blackstorm; there are dangerous people out there, we can protect you as long as you help us.

He grimaced, brought back to reality by the feeling of her spreading his cut for inspection. Before he could get in trouble for saying something snippy, he was placated by Esha’s reassurance that he didn’t look like he was on death’s door. She explained that she usually worked on corpses. “Huh. Didn’t know that,” he admitted. “Makes sense, I suppose. Can’t let loose the baby med students in the E.R. Though you’re not completely a baby, are you? How long have you been studying now?”


Esha Mullur

[Esha Mullur]

As Esha continued to press on the wound, Noah made his intentions clear. He had no interest in visiting a doctor, and if she didn’t do anything to help him, he’d do it himself. The very thought made her cringe, but stitching up the wound without confirming that there was no unforeseen internal damage made her just as uneasy. She supposed she was at an impasse. “Not a matter of practice, I don’t have the equipment to verify that…” for the lack of better terminology, she waved her hand over his abdomen “… everything is where it should be.”

The man could verify that there was no numbness though, so internal bleeding and nerve damage was off the list of concerns. She shook her head and sighed, reaching back down to the first aid kit and pulling out her suture set. Her brain was telling her this was the most logical course of action, her gut was telling her this whole situation was nothing but trouble. “Well, you’re going to be feeling a lot more of it. Pain is a good sign, at least” she reassured.

While she didn’t have anything powerful, she supposed that she could help the man through the process at least a little bit better. He was certainly trooper to get this far, but perhaps the worst was yet to come. She snatched a small Tylenol pill bottle from her kit and carefully slapped it into one of Noah’s available hands. She presumed he didn’t need instructions and continued her efforts to prepare him for surgery. She popped the top off her bottle of petroleum jelly and gently applied it around the area of the wound. If the man wasn’t in pain, it might have felt like a pleasant massage.

As she worked though, the mystery man vocalized his surprise at her work with dead bodies. What bugged her was the way he phrased it. His little “huh. Didn’t know that” as if he had a preconceived notion about what her life was like and that little fact strayed from it. Something was definitely up, was he a stalker? Did he self inflict his wounds to get closer to her? Possible, but not likely given the positioning of the wound.

At the question about how long she had been studying, her lips swished to one side of her mouth, a bit skeptical. “I’m surprised you don’t know” she replied in a coy manner, readying her needle. “You must know the rough number, at least. You wouldn’t be here if I was the baby med student.” Despite her statement, she remained focused on her task at hand. Stalker or not, the man had an open wound that needed to be shut, whatever happened next could be dealt with later. She made her first insertion and very gingerly continued the motion. “How long have you been studying me?” she asked candidly, more so curious than accusatory.

[Noah St Cloud]

‘Pain is a good sign’ was all the confirmation Noah needed. “I’m not going to die, woo!” he stage-whispered. “High five – ah, maybe not.” He lowered his hand almost as soon as he’d raised it, remembering Esha had her clean surgical gloves on and was busy sorting her supplies out anyway. At least she’d caved to his wishes.

He inspected the Tylenol pill she’d dropped in his hand (just to be sure she wasn’t trying to drug him with something less mundane), then popped it in his mouth, swallowing it dry. It would take a little while to kick in so it was better to have it sooner rather than later. His dad probably would have told him to be a man and tough it out, but hey, despite all of Noah’s faults, toxic masculinity ranked quite low on the list.

The first insertion of the needle was… unpleasant. Noah clenched his jaw and held himself very still, though his body wanted to flinch away. He stared at Esha’s face to distract himself. Her expression turned sceptical as she pointed out he probably already knew the answer to his question, and then asked how long he’d been studying her. She seemed to be handling the concept pretty well. Or at least, she wasn’t calling him a creep and calling the police to her house. Maybe she’d do that later.

“I haven’t been studying you. I just know of you in a general sense.” His voice was almost a whine, like a kid that had been caught awake after their bedtime. “Sure, I know roughly how long you’ve been in Los Eurosia and I know you’re trying to be a doctor or surgeon or whatever, but that’s pretty much it.” Although this might have been a good opportunity to tell her the truth, he wasn’t going to reveal his knowledge about her powers while she was weaving a needle through his skin. He couldn’t predict how she would react.

“You could’ve been studying somewhere else before you came here,” he pointed out, his default casual tone returning. “I don’t know your life. But if you must know how I know what I know –” he winked – “I’ll tell you when you’re done. Consider it the first part of your reward. Or maybe the second part. The first part can be my name; it's Noah. You can do whatever you want with it.”



Esha Mullur

[Esha Mullur]

For a man with a giant gash torn through his side, Noah certainly acted like he had all the cards in his hands. Then again, could she deny that he didn’t? A strange man just walked into her apartment, got her to patch up his wound up for free, all the while talking with her as if he’d known her for years, yet she hasn’t so much as seen his face before. In retrospect, all of these should have been red flags, stuff that should have convinced her that calling the police was her next step forward, but no. There was something oddly alluring about this man. His charm and confidence acted like the toxoplasma parasite that made the ordinary cat-fearing mouse ambivalent to its natural predator.

Esha lightly chuckled at Noah’s attempt at high fiving her, though, understandably kept her eyes focused on the task at hand. “Time for that later, maybe” she joked back.

With each movement of her needle, she could feel Noah’s eyes on her. His gentle dark eyes. She supposed it was only natural for him to watch her as she worked, rather than the place that she was working on. Her apartment was rather sparce in terms of things to feast the eyes on, westerners might not think much about things like the Vishnu shrine she was praying to earlier. Regardless, she tried her best to not look up to meet his gaze, lest she stick her needle somewhere it shouldn’t be.

Though she had a bit to chew on with his riddle. Assuming his word could be trusted, he knew enough about her activities in Los Eurosia and not much else. Blackstorm definitely didn’t jump out in her mind. She heard of them, sure, but people claiming that gifted liberation was at hand was nothing particularly new. Far as she knew, Blackstorm was a couple people in a basement who thought themselves revolutionists. No, the first organization she could think of that were in the business of gathering information and background checks on people like her was The Sector. It could be that he was part of the local branch and was only privy to her local activity.

“Mmm, you don’t know my life. But you have done your homework” she commented as she closed another suture. “But yes, I did my undergrad elsewhere, I only moved here to do my apprenticeship. People like you have certainly made living here… interesting, Noah” She released a deep breath and leaned back from the wound momentarily. “A fourth year student can’t make a suture like that” she added with a puff of pride. Grabbing her pot of Vaseline again, she applied the gel against the surface of the stitched-up wound before placing a gauze pad over it.

Twisting the cap back onto the Vaseline container, she then slapped it into Noah’s hand. “Apply this 2-3 times per day. Don’t go picking around the stitches. And definitely stay away from your pointy sticks. It should be fully healed in a week” she instructed in a no-nonsense manner and a raised finger. “I don’t know if you have any friends to help you remove the threading but uh…” she paused as she looked up at Noah, briefly considering her next statement. “Definitely don’t do it yourself.”

[Noah St Cloud]

Noah hummed in acknowledgement. He wondered if she’d completed her undergraduate degree in India or somewhere else in America, but Esha finished her work before he could ask. He looked down at his wound before she covered it with gauze. The stitches were neat, and they’d taken her hardly any time at all. “Thank you, it looks great.” He pulled his shirt and sweater back down to cover it and pocketed the container of Vaseline she provided him.

He sat up from his laying position carefully, swinging his legs around so he was sitting on the sofa in the traditional manner, then offered Esha his hand so she could get up from the floor if she wished. “I’m sorry for turning up unannounced and putting you on the spot like that, I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” He thought he’d smelled candles. If he looked around he would have noticed the shrine, but as it was, he didn’t. Noah tended to zero in on the people he was speaking to rather than his surroundings, which was a pretty glaring weakness if anyone realised it.

He considered her advice to avoid removing the stitches by himself. He could ask another Blackstorm agent to do it, but why reveal a weakness like that? Besides, he was hoping to hide the incident from them altogether; he was already being side eyed by management for a certain failed recruitment that required some clean-up. He didn’t need them to wonder if there was a pattern and stop sending him out. “Hypothetically, if someone didn’t want to involve friends –” or lacked them entirely – “and preferred a particular med student’s company, could he visit her instead?” He asked the question innocently, tilting his head like a puppy-dog for maximum effect. If Esha had been kind enough to go along with him so far, perhaps he could push his luck.

However, she might not be so keen to help after Noah started talking about Blackstorm. It was strange that some gifted could get so panicked by the mere mention of freedom. Why did they fight it so much?

“I suppose I made you a promise, didn’t I?” He smiled bashfully. “I’m a little unprepared. I could’ve gotten into the specifics of what we could offer you, but I just had to go and get injured. Regardless, I’m part of a group – don’t worry, not a cult – that wants to…” How should he phrase it? This was why prior research was so important. Without it, convincing her to join would take more guesswork and a less individualised approach. She was obviously one of the more peaceful gifted, doing her best to live in harmony with humans rather than exerting any sort of dominance over them, so the coexistence angle seemed right to him. Noah himself felt rather ambivalent about humans. Sure, he was superior to them in a general sense of having something they lacked, but he wasn’t driven by the idea of making them second-class citizens. He was mainly in Blackstorm because he wanted to get stronger, and it would be a lot easier to do that if gifted were readily available to use and he didn’t have The Sector breathing down his neck.

He blinked. “Ah, sorry, got distracted by how pretty you are. Anyway, the general gist of it is: we want to normalise being gifted. Go public, y’know?” He kept his eyes trained on her, wanting to gauge her reaction. “There’s a lot more of us than you’d think. In Los Eurosia alone there could be hundreds.” There was a lot more he wanted to say, but he figured he should see what her initial questions would be and tailor his responses accordingly.



Esha Mullur

[Esha Mullur]

Amidst repacking the items back into the first aid kit, Esha drew a bit of an uncertain smile at Noah’s compliment towards her handiwork. “Mmm, well, hopefully it’s all you’ll need” she added. She had no doubts about her stitching abilities, it was just a matter of whether or not she unknowingly covered up a far worse injury than what she was privy to. Any signal that she could be right on that would not be a good one, especially for Noah.

As she clicked the little tab back in place and set her med kit upright, Esha was prepared to boost herself off the ground, only to be met by Noah standing directly over her with his hand held out. A steady patient and a gentleman, a rare breed indeed. She took his hand gently and stood herself up, smiling at him when they reached partial eye level. As close as they could get with their half foot of difference in height. At Noah’s asking if he was interrupting anything, a twinkle of remembrance entered Esha’s eye. “Oh, yes, actually” she added attentively. She pushed off from the man, hurriedly pacing herself to the other end of the room so that she could fan the flames of her candles out. “Well, uh, nothing too important. I’m sure they will forgive for the interruption.” All things considered, she could only hope that she was right.

Though, that wasn’t so much a present concern on her mind. Esha’s bigger concern was Noah’s next proposal. She supposed she wasn’t opposed to the idea of meeting him again, it was rather the concept that she would continue nursing him that made things complicated. She swished her mouth to one side of her face. “You can…” she trailed off, looking at the man a bit skeptically. She then raised an authoritative finger. “You will be here one week and no later, I do not want skin to start growing over the threading. Neither will you. If you show up with another wound, I will call an ambulance. First thing. My apartment is not a hospital and I don’t need my landlord asking about strange bloodied people showing up at my doorstep” she spoke concisely.

Her countenance remained pensive as Noah continued to talk, though now he was alluding toward who he was working for and how he knew the things he knew. It wasn’t Sector, as she might have thought before. No, it was definitely something a bit more… well, chaotic was one way of putting it. Noah seemed to draw a blank in the midst of his presentation, putting the blame on her beauty. It shifted her stern complexion to a light smile.

Esha picked up her wooden bowl of water and swirled it in her hand absently as she slowly circled back to Noah. “Mm, usually if the patient is awake for surgery, we get them to bite down on leather or something. I didn’t think it would be effect. I like you when you talk” she complimented. “I think you do too” she added with a huff. As she reached the end of that sentence though, her expression become a bit hesitant, looking at the water in her cup rather than at Noah directly. “But, uh… hm…”

Esha paused, taking a seat on her couch, her expression still wracked with thought. “So you know” she stated, somewhat sombrely as her hand flinched from her cup, as if she was about to reach for her head scarf to remove it, but decided against it at the last minute. “I don’t know. Going public… its not always a good idea. Some things are better kept private, unsaid. Not to be played with for someone else’s agenda.”

[Noah St Cloud]

It turned out Noah had interrupted something. He’d never been a spiritual person and he tended to avoid discussing such matters lest he get into trouble with those who were. He was most familiar with Christianity, even being able to quote some phrases from the bible when it suited him – mostly to frustrate homophobes or to provide more compelling arguments to orthodox Christians he was asked to recruit. He recognised some of the imagery from other religions, however, and it was enough to recognise that Esha’s shrine was a Hindu one.

He watched her fan out the candles around the Vishnu statue. Rather than feeling apologetic, he was wondering how he could use this in his favour. It was bad luck that he’d turned up at her apartment at such a time. His mom had loathed being disturbed during her prayers and although Esha wasn’t flying off the handle like she would, a part of him was paranoid that Esha disliked him for it. And yet, she agreed to see him again and sort out his stitches.

“You’re cute when you’re bossy,” he teased, before rearranging his expression into one more sombre. “But sure, deal. Thank you.” While her opinion of him didn’t matter to him personally, being liked was an important part of being a recruiter and getting the outcomes he desired. He'd do his best to stay on her good side. 

Noah’s grin soon returned when she pointed out how he liked to talk. That was a fair assessment! And he was about to do a lot more talking too, judging by her hesitance. She needed a convincing diplomat, not a ‘fire and brimstone for all opposed’ advocate, and it was interesting that her first response was to speak of privacy. It gave him an idea, but he decided to save it for later. 

Sitting beside her, he nodded slowly. “Okay… okay, some people might want to keep it to themselves and that’s fine, that’s their prerogative, but don’t you think they should be able to choose that? Gifted are being forced to hide whether they like it or not. Families are being split up by The Sector to keep the human half unawares. Does that seem fair to you?” To Noah, Esha seemed like the noble sort. Most doctors had at least some desire to make the world a better place, so he imagined she could be somewhat swayed by the impact Blackstorm could have on others rather than solely what it could do for her.

“I’m not saying it will be easy, I mean, Rome wasn’t built in a day, but the sooner humans know about us, the sooner we can be accepted. Future generations of gifted will face no discrimination at all, but only if we pave the way for them.” He wondered if he should bring up reincarnation and what might happen if she were reborn as a gifted again, yet ultimately he decided against it, not trusting he knew enough about Hinduism to turn that into a solid argument.

He leaned closer, ignoring the dull twinge the action triggered in his side, and softened his voice. “What if you have kids and they turn out to be gifted too? Do you want them to live in fear of being caught?” It was a bit of a risky inquiry; if she didn’t want kids, she was well within her right to tell him off for assuming. Still, he thought he’d give it a go. Most people wanted to have a family, whether for love or for legacy.

He considered reaching for her hand to lay it on extra thick about how sincere he was, but her hands were already occupied. His eyes were drawn down to the bowl. Maybe he needed to do more to show her he was harmless, put her at ease... “Do you need to finish praying? I could wait, or – join? Hang on, would that be weirder…?” His brow wrinkled in genuine confusion as he stared down at his reflection in the water, trying to identify the best course of action.



Esha Mullur

[Esha Mullur]

There wasn’t a whole lot that Esha could argue about Noah’s points. There was certainly a lot of secrecy and repression happening to people, people like her that she should feel more responsible to help out. It was kind of strange how she felt a bit dissociated from other gifted, but then again, her circumstances were a bit different and she was often seen as something different. Perhaps that was why she was so hesitant to join another movement, she didn’t want to be another pawn in someone’s holy war, even if these gifted folk seemed to have better intentions about other people’s freedoms.

She thought quite long about Noah’s pitch, again looking into her bowl of water longingly. What probably pushed her to the edge of consideration the most though was Noah mentioning the Sector splitting families apart, which hit a bit closer to home than even he had considered. Not that her gifts had done that directly, but other societal norms and pressures had certainly played their roles in the rift that stood between her and her parents. Seeking justice for gifted in this American town would certainly not help her any in that matter, but she supposed she didn’t want to wish that kind of separation onto other families when it was something so sacred.

She briefly peered up at her statue of Vishnu once more. How would the deity of peace perceive her if she remained idle when his will is to retore order when truth and righteousness were under threat? Was this her call to arms? She wasn’t quite sure just yet. Though, she laughed a bit at Noah’s suggestion to join in with her prayer. “I will spare you the difficulty of trying to speak Hindi mantras with your American tongue” she joked with a slight ease.

Esha sighed, figuring she had to answer his qualms about the repression faced by the gifted folk. “No… what’s happening isn’t fair” she answered concisely. “I don’t know what kind of world my children will be brought into, but I can only hope they’re blessed enough not to have to deal with the kind of life I had” she spoke earnestly. “But knowledge can bring fear just as much as it can bring acceptance, so I’m not exactly sure what you or your group are proposing we do because just being visible is likely to make me or my children targets.” There was more than a hint of skepticism in her tone.

“Unless you’re proposing a cure for this” she then swiftly pulled back the sleeve of her sari, exposing the thick bristles that lined up her arm like an infectious disease. Any other moment in time, she would have refrained from doing something such as this, but it was clear to her that Noah already had some formulation of what she looked like underneath her robes. “I’m not sure how your organization can make me feel safe… you came here with a stab wound and I’m not the type of gifted that can throw fire or break minds with a thought.”

Noah St Cloud

[Noah St Cloud]

Esha laughed a little at his suggestion, making it clear to him that it was not the done thing. Perhaps the blood loss had addled his brain more than he’d previously thought. “Hey! I could be fluent for all you know,” he teased back, grinning abashedly. Perhaps his ignorance made it painfully obvious that he was not.

She sighed, once more voicing her uncertainty, yet before he could begin his counterargument she pulled back the sleeve of her sari, revealing quills where there should have been hair. Similar in colour to her skin tone yet unmistakably sharp and there, giving a strange, visible texture to her body that he immediately wanted to run his hand over – just to see what it felt like, even if it hurt. Noah had known they were there, of course. Had known roughly what they looked like from written descriptions. But he had never seen them, not even in the articles from Karnataka when her gift first made its way into the news. He did his best not to look too fascinated and thrilled, not to stare and prod and question as he was usually prone to, and forced himself to be patient and focus instead on the words coming from her mouth.

“Maybe not,” he began slowly once she was done, “but we’re not looking for soldiers, Esha. We want people who help each other. People who can make each other feel a little less alone. The way I help is by bringing these people together, and sometimes… they’re not ready for it. This –” he gestured to the freshly-stitched side of his torso – “was my fault. The person who did this to me was just… scared. Scared of being seen. I approached them way too soon and, well, as you said: there are people in the world who would hurt people like us.”

There was only one lie in his spiel: it wasn’t his fault. The plant-weaver had been scared, yes, but that didn’t mean he forgave them for being stupid and cowardly enough to attack him for no real reason. If they had just stopped and listened to him – really listened – they would have understood that he meant no harm. He wouldn’t have needed fixing and he wouldn’t have needed to approach Esha earlier than planned. He could’ve had more time to plot the best way to get her on side.

He stepped closer to her, eyes earnest and imploring. “But there are far more people in the world who would protect us if they knew. Less than an hour ago you didn’t even know me, and look – you’ve saved my life, just like that. You’re someone who helps, and if you were to join Blackstorm you wouldn’t be doing jobs that would put you in danger. You would be saving lives, like you’ve always wanted.” He was making a bit of an assumption there; it seemed to him that most people in the medical profession had always had dreams of being so, and for the nobler reasons too – not just because it tended to pay well.

“Forget about Blackstorm for now,” he decided, voice softening as his gaze drew back to her quills. “I don’t need an answer today, tomorrow, or even in a few months’ time. Regardless of what you decide, maybe there’s something I can do for you.” Not the cure she asked for, but perhaps a form of medication. A brief respite from what troubled her.

He reached out, his hand hovering over her exposed arm. “May I?” he murmured, lifting his gaze back to hers. Just a prick would be all he needed, like sleeping beauty with her spinning wheel. Except hopefully rather than external slumber he’d only receive a new look and have fun exploring her gift, while Esha would be able to experience having regular human hair. It seemed like a fair trade, and it would only be temporary.


Esha Mullur

[Esha Mullur]

Esha raised a cynical brow to Noah as he suggested (jokingly) that he could have been able to speak Hindi. “Vaastav mein? To kya ham hindee mein baat kar rahe hote?” she asked in all seriousness, completely as a joke. She didn’t expect him to be able to answer her question correctly, or even have an inkling of what she was saying. If he could talk back in fluent Hindi though, she was prepared to kick him out for making her speak English this entire time.

There was something about Noah’s silly interjections that made his more serious points a little harder to chew on, though perhaps that was by design. As much as she wanted to continue refuting his invitation to join this mysterious gang of freedom fighters, she was provided with less and less reasons to say no. The only push back she could think of is questioning whether these people even existed and whether they were truly doing the things that Noah was saying they did, which would just be drawing them in circles, but at least she could avoid saying yes.

She silently looked down, nodding her head along with what Noah was saying, as if his words had become her own thoughts. However, it was not necessarily a matter of disagreeing with what he was proposing, but Esha knowing whether to she could trust this Blackstorm to deliver its promises in any capacity. Even its naming convention seemed to denote some form of militia, which didn’t inspire much confidence in Esha.

That said, she was at the point of biting her lip to at least say she would consider the invitation. Though, Noah’s upsell changed to something a bit more personal. There was a twinge of curious confusion in Esha’s countenance as she looked upon Noah again, unsure of what he was trying to get at. She looked at his hand then to her own arm. He wanted to touch her? Was he… prostituting himself for his cause? He’s nothing if not devoted, she’ll give him that. Or, maybe he was just curious about how they felt, it did seem like his wont to be stabbed by various objects. He was not alone in his curiosity, but it had been enough time since she’s had someone ask that the notion was kind of alien to her.

“Again, I advise against physical activity because of your stitching, but if you’re curious about how they feel…” she stated in a doctoral manner. She paused, almost in disbelief that she had found herself in a situation where someone wanted to touch her quills despite her years of secrecy. “… Go ahead” she stated somewhat reluctantly, closing her eyes as she really didn’t want to study the situation further.

Noah St Cloud

[Noah St Cloud]

His lips quirked at her confused look and the professional tone she began with, though he knew she was right: he should have gone home to rest immediately, or else laid on her couch for an hour to let the stitches ‘settle’. Instead, there he was: excited and eager to try out a new gift as if he hadn’t been injured by one earlier that day.

(What was that Old Testament quote? The one about hubris often resulting in fatal retribution?)

Esha trailed off, her eyes fluttering shut as if… scared. Or more likely, ashamed. He almost frowned. It hadn’t been his intention to make her feel like some kind of freak, but he supposed it could come across that way. A few of his 'exes' with curly hair had hated when people asked to touch their locks – and sometimes they weren’t even asked. Complete strangers would just start grabbing at them, telling them how pretty it was. And although it was technically a compliment, it was also akin to being treated like a dog. Cooed at and fussed over and petted. Maybe Esha was feeling something like that. Except probably much worse, because he wasn’t gushing over how attractive it was.

“Hey,” he murmured. He gently touched his fingers to her chin, trying to encourage her face up towards him. “It’s okay, you can open your eyes. It’s not what you think.”

With her permission, he closed the gap between his hand and her arm, barely applying any pressure at all as he carefully stroked down in the direction the quills seemed to grow. He'd been expecting something blatantly more spiny. Abrasive. Scratching his palm as if he were running it over sandpaper. As it were, he supposed the sensation was far more similar to how petting a hedgehog would feel – and considering he was touching quills that made far more sense than his initial predictions.

Skinny but not quite sewing-needle-thin. Skin-temperature. They were oddly smooth, though he knew that wouldn't be the case if he skimmed his hand in the opposite direction or did anything to startle her.

It was fascinating. And fascination, as always, bred questions. Did she ever use moisturiser on the quills on her limbs – or conditioner on the quills of her head? Did she ever need to cut them? Get ‘haircuts’? Would that hurt? Could she feel temperature through them? How long could they grow?

To stop himself from blurting his wonderings all at once, he broke his gaze away from her face and pressed a quill into his thumb until it pierced the skin.

At once, Esha’s pufferfish spines disappeared. There was no fanfare. No puff of smoke or flash of light – they were simply there one instant, gone the next. Meanwhile, Noah felt the slightest tug of his new quills against his clothes. His arm ‘hairs’ catching on the sleeves of his sweater.

The theft of the gift brought a wave of contentment over him, a high like no other that almost made him want to purr. He grinned as he met her eyes again, and waggled his newly-thorny eyebrows. “Nice, huh? You got a mirror somewhere? Let’s go check ourselves out.”


Esha Mullur
OOC: give me a nudge if I got anything wrong about Esha’s gift or if you’d like any changes to this post c: