Notes: Sorry for the wait. That's common with me though. If something bothers you, reader, criticism would be nice, especially for this mix of present and past tense which I can't control properly.
The chapter is not as originally planned. I supposed for the second chapter to contain a much greater timespan, but stories easily get out of my control, and they always turn out much longer and more detailed than I'd first planned. Which is kind of a hindrance. But I wanted to add something to this soon to show it's not dead. What was supposed to be the rest of the second chapter will become the third instead, it seems.
Maybe a sane person would rather choose to stay the farthest from this new subject as possible.
There was nothing driving Gogo on to pick it up again, if not for the fact he had already accepted himself as something extra-human and there was no backtracking from that.
He allowed his legs and blank mind take him near the port, few steps away from the sea. Seagulls and gaviots swarmed around it; where there were people, there was food. Not that fishers or sailors were paying them any heed now.
A merchant, owner of some goats out the city outskirts for all he's heard, is the person closest by, making some salt and conversing with a sailor. Gogo unconsciously concentrates on their speech.
"Some cattle in Tzen have died recently. They say it musta've been disease. Are your goats faring healthy?"
"My beauties are fine! I always put some drops of potion in their water. Happy bunch. My milk and meat are top notch fo' the market. Even the snotty nobles of Jidoor like 'em."
The boy was thankful for the seawaves' noisy orchestra, because as soon as he opened his mouth, he was mumbling: "...Happy bunch. My milk and meat are top notch fo' the market."
And that was it. That was it. The voice that left his throat was that of an adult man's. Gone had been the trace of androgyny his own tone possessed.
He was so gone in it, to be frank, he wasn't noticing the movement of his arms; left one curled in the air, right hand doing swift jerks as though he held something in it. Gogo froze immediately when he realized.
"Haie boy, you wanna learn?" the merchant called towards him with a crooked smile. His left arm was holding the shallow ceramic box, his right hand stirred the salt and water in it with a large spoon.
Gogo's eyes widened briefly, before he composed himself and offered, "Lha, I just... found it interesting."
"Alright. You look funny." the man's smile opened further.
Unsure as to how to answer to that, Gogo nods, then turns around and walks in the opposite direction, looking out at the sea.
His memory was still fresh. "Happy bunch.", he utters, and again it isn't his voice the one to speak.
Just what, what the hell was wrong with him?
He has considered growing up to become a chemist. Mixing up ingredients and sauces and herbs yielded him a lot of fun in his younger days, and now that he bothered to check actual recipes (could even manage to make a weak potion) it proved much more rewarding.
Gogo had also been able to fabricate an acid, which had the property of melting stone besides other things, but his parents hadn't used it much.
This early mixture knowledge was at least good for him to thrive well with what he had to eat at home; no meal would be boring this way, if he could have the right sauces. Some ingredients that seemed to be awful, and nobody would dare put among their food, tasted actually pretty good if mixed with some specific types.
... Hmm.
Gogo stared at the sour, sour seed.
Does not match with the common foodstuffs... but if it's blended with some rare ones...
He absentmindedly slid a finger against one of his stripes.
Mom and dad are still on the southern continent. He can go wherever he wants, as he pleases.
It's as if the hustling of the city had become much less interesting, much less attention-grabbing than it once was. A couple of days ago, Gogo could keep his focus on others' activities, but now his attention waned considerably. He had ears to sounds and voices, but not to meanings; he had eyes for specific movements and their mechanisms, not the scenario in a whole.
... How could he even be a good mime, when he had never practiced before?
Gogo headed out of the city, northwards, where silence prevailed over constant noise. The only prying eyes were usually dull and would not bother him.
A large bird landed on a tree branch not too far away, folding its wings back into place. It's what the boy came here for.
He focuses on the bird with all his might, nearly feeling dizzy because his body started feeling numb. It wasn't a sensation he could describe if he tried.
The bird turned its head around, checking the surroundings. Gogo did so, too; his eyes fixed and unmoving, only the craning of his neck to guide the way. His arms are bended oddly, almost painfully, to mimic the wings.
It glances and gazes at him, and a couple seconds later a pair of olive-green eyes stare back. His breaths are coming out short and quick - he can't control that.
And then the bird flies away, quickly as that; the boy gets a light-headed sensation and doesn't catch what is going on until he is on the ground, arms and jaw throbbing in pain.
As human consciousness returned to him, Gogo tried to reason that there should be a way for him to control how much or how little he should mimic from others. If he'd forced a halt onto his concentration, he could have kept from attempting the flight.
This could be really dangerous if he had been near a cliff, sincerely.
He stood, stretching his arms. Could he imitate the bird again, from memory, if he tried?
Crossing his arms tightly so they would not move, Gogo focused on the memory of the vulture. As he did so, every other thought started being driven from his mind. He was a bird, a bird.
Pupils becoming unmoving again, arms feeling notable discomfort in their position (they instinctively wanted to fold back but couldn't), the boy had lost most of his consciousness. It really was a strange sensation, but during the experience, he had no true emotion to react to it.
He moved his neck as the memory "told him" to, as the bird had done. Gogo at least noticed this, and so made a great effort to turn towards a different direction, one the vulture hadn't tried... But his eyes were moving now, his body tense; the concentration had been broken.
The youth snarled quietly. Of course this was much more difficult than he'd first wagered.
After that instance, his eyebrows furrowed a bit. Why was he getting angry over... that? Outworldly mimicking was something he'd only known he was capable of very recently. Besides, he was only doing this out of raw curiosity.
... Was he?
Of course not. I think I just want to be special, instead of a curse.
He chuckled, graceless.
That's why I have to get better.
Gogo was very sincere with himself. He was so self-conscious as an individual that, if he even tried to turn away from the truth, it would just bite at his heels instead.
Deeper in the forest, he found a Mu rodent; a cub, thankfully. Its pack was sleeping soundly atop large tree branches.
Mus were courageous pests; they thought their teeth could maul through anything. A child wasn't as threatening.
Gogo neared it already in focus; crouched, on all fours. He was slowly becoming used to how much more blank his mind became in this sort of state. The Mu's ears perked up and its nose began twitching, scenting the air. The boy's ears and nose felt some tremor, trying to do the same.
The back of his spine also tingled with a lack of tail. It made him feel somewhat empty.
When the little animal began running around the trees, Gogo mirrored it, almost as if chasing it, anatomically different legs working precariously to keep up. It was really difficult not to trip as the rodent's movements were quick, too quick, and despite his rapidly beating heart, his limbs were too big to keep up.
Eventually, he tripped, and surely enough his concentration was broken fully.
Practicing with animals was tricky.
Propping himself up on dirty forearms, Gogo noticed he hadn't gotten far. Could still see the tree with Mus napping on. The cub had climbed it.
Not at all cautious, the young thing woke up a few of its older counterparts as it nailed upwards, scared.
The boy watched with some mild interest as the rodents woken made a messy stirrup, and a couple of them who hadn't bothered going back to sleep sniffed and glanced around. The skimpier of the two made a growly noise and climbed down the trunk.
Maybe he should move away, now. That thought was a distant one, however, not enough to connect with his limbs and make him move. When he did move it seemed odd and threatening, some wild arm flailing as he made to sit up despite the stubborn aching legs. A little growl came in response to that, and a glance told him the Mu was fluffed up to appear bigger and scarier, very close to him already. Getting friskier the more Gogo tried to actually stand.
This was- panic inducing. The boy focused on the being in hopes of ending up with something that would help him. Those angered eyes. That ready-to-attack posture.
The Mu emitted a high-pitched squeak, and Gogo's imitation of it was flawless. That made the Mu disoriented but more irate, and it hesitated little before lunging in to bite.
The boy barely saw that. He only took anything into account when his teeth were pressing against tender flesh and an odd taste invaded his mouth.
Whatever he was biting, he released, brain in a mess; the creature ran away in a burst of desperation.
Gogo tasted some blood in his mouth, a small amount. Backing off from the clan tree, still shaky with fear, things started clearing up, the "out-of-himself" daze fading.
The ear. He'd bitten the ear. It doesn't matter where the Mu was aiming for, that's where he attacked. It was certainly not a perfect mirroring of the action, because he didn't feel himself be bitten at all. He had been confused between focusing on the mimicry and defending himself somehow.
This was good news, in a way. It meant he wasn't bound to doing exactly the same things the object of mimicry did, hopefully.
His backwards walking had led him to a pond, a simple location which gracely held part of the world's beauty.
Gogo looked down at himself in the water's reflection. He hadn't changed in the slightest, physically. Not any more demoniac-looking than he was when he was three.
While gazing at the illusion of colour in the surface, the boy attempted to re-voice that warning squeak he had been given, and after a very close attempt, the sound came out the exact same.
Strange, how he looked and looked, and it was truly him the non-human sound came from. Lowering his mouth cloth, he did it again, observed with vagueness (he still had to concentrate on the memory of the Mu) the lips that opened small and brief to let the sound out.
Gogo plopped down on the grass. What to do? Did this serve any purpose? If he could master this art, it would certainly be amazing.
Lost in thoughts about the future, the boy had barely noticed movement around; a lobo had approached leisurely and was drinking the pond's water.
He tensed up, but then was reminded of a saying of their region: 'Do not fear the wolf who is sated, but do not push it, either, for it is still a wolf.'
And truly enough, when Gogo focused on the beast, he felt a salve of warmth, of fullness. As if he'd just eaten a big meal, was happy and needed nothing else. It made him feel further drowned in the daze.
The lack of tail and moveable ears wasn't even bothering him; Gogo was already licking at the water, feeling some odd sort of sated bliss. This lobo wasn't aggressive at all. It was content to be alive and with a full stomach.
Soon the animal lifted its head and walked away among the trees. The boy followed it, and this time the difficulty proportioned by different hinder legs bothered him much less as well.
The lobo was sniffing the air almost uninterestedly as he paced – nearly trotted – about. Gogo couldn't quite pick up the scents, but he didn't need it; if something was amiss, he would feel it instead.
Everything felt dynamic, yet distant. A really pleasant sensation. No right place to be, or future, just the moment. The forest didn't look frightening at all through the emotions of a beast who would alone walk through the labyrinthic vines and roots even at night.
Still casual, the creature stopped to sniff at an old bush. Gogo was some ways behind him, and as such sniffed at the nothing instead. He truly was lost in daze and felt no hurry at all to regain his thoughts.
The scent seemed the least mildly interesting, and the lobo positioned himself in an exquisite way, slightly raising a hinder leg. Despite the difficulty with equilibrium, the boy mimicked it.
It was just a very short moment later, when he picked up a sensation of wetness and relief that did not belong to the creature that his concentration came crashing down.
Gogo's heart leapt to his throat as he grasped the wet patch in his pants, shivering with some sort of dread. The wolf was walking away casually, but the boy didn't even think to give it a second glance.
By the ocean's endless waves, this shouldn't happen. But why not, too? He did mimic everything he could, the same happened with the other animals. He couldn't quite- control it. This truly was worrisome. To have his concentration only broken by sharp pain or a startle just wouldn't do. He needs more practice.
Trying to settle his racing heart and brief sensation of panic, Gogo glanced upwards to the sky. It was probably near midday, which meant his stomach would call him back to the city sooner or later in need of food. At least finish relieving yourself while you are out here, and wash that, and make your clothes look less crumpled, how're you going to explain those, a voice grumbled in his head.
He feels he hasn't heard thoughts his own for a long while.
This is only the first day. Only the first day, he muses.
That night and most of the next day, Gogo is too sore and with memories too blurry to think about practicing further. Eats little, moves little, and thinks even less.
It's been a couple of days. His memory is as clear as a raindrop.
He can re-do the vulture's tilting, the Mu's noise, the lobo's trot. He can mimic Al'Misha's voice and the merchant-shepherd's prideful tone.
Maybe that sensation of illness was all worth it, then- he was only excited to learn more and more.
Gogo finds a cat before leaving the city, and thinks to chase it to use it for his practicing. He supposed it wouldn't be too bad, since it was ridiculously early in the morning and his mimicking would likely only attract amusement if anyone did see him.
He focuses on it, and is soon using his four limbs to walk ahead. Cats loathe being followed, and this one is no different, speeding up its pace upon noticing the boy behind it.
As with the mu cub, the size difference here proved to be troublesome. Gogo's legs and arms were larger than the feline's, so he caught up to it easily, yet the closer he got, the faster the cat attempted to walk. And when it got faster, so did Gogo, in a cycle which left the cat unsettled; he could feel that.
Soon enough, though, the cat darted into a thin opening between crates, and the boy, still with a feline's confidence over him, whammed onto the boxes head-on.
Nobody came to help the strange boy clutching his clothed head in pain. That was good news. Or not.
This is a reminder of what he should learn now, though- when to stop.
The forest is, again, inviting. Predators rarely come around the outskirts of the town, given Nikeans' notable fierceness when trying to defend their products.
Usually, they could find deers, doves, caladriaes, hares, salamanders, and other sorts of colorful animals, so he had plenty to practice with before he even dared risk it with humans again.
After all, people observed and criticized- these critters only had eyes for movements and menaces.
Gogo had come in another direction now, to the thicker forest- though still not quite comparable to those lush green seas of trees near Zozo. Nikeah prides itself with it nonetheless.
He finds his ways through the tall trees, the twisting trunks and roots, the many noises.
Mimicking an insect sounds painful, so he doesn't even try it.
Wingbeats give him another option.
Bright, the dove flew fast over him- and he followed it. Only followed, as he didn't wish to get another faceful of dirt so early on. The trees were tall enough that the bird was flying under their shadows, and he wondered why, almost losing sight of it.
When Gogo is near the point of giving up on his target, the dove lands in some far-away branch.
He approaches it somewhat slowly, panting slightly from the run. It seemed to be roosting for a moment, but closer inspection led to the finding of a well-placed nest.
Focus.
It was harder to feel anything emotional from a bird. He vaguely felt the shoulder strain, the general sensation to be physically light like a feather, how his knees felt bended in the wrong way. Holding onto his many cloths tightly, the boy was able to keep his arms from trying to contort into positions they couldn't.
The dove neared the nest, head always moving to look around. Gogo's neck was not so long so there wasn't much movement as he mimicked it. His throat felt warm and tickly, then, out of a sudden.
Strain. He was opening his mouth, head facing downwards, and his throat did some strain, but something was amiss. This waned the concentration, and he was able to break the remaining connection to look at the bird.
It was, simply, feeding its squabs. Lending something through its beak, apparently. The boy had learned something among these lines before. Could he have mimicked that? Doubtfully, since he didn't.
That was a relief, though; if he vomited that could prove to be way worse than last time.
He supposes it is because the dove must have something he doesn't. Without wings, he couldn't fly, without whatever it was, he couldn't feed squabs. Unlike the time where he did have a bladder and a urethra to do the work.
Gogo was trying to put logic behind it, but he was unsure if there was any actual logic to it. Well, his only teacher had been Marandan, it was a reflex to search for and mull over reasoning.
That wasn't the foremost matter, though. He was still set out to control his miming better.
He is not after a prey that wouldn't run away. It is the opposite he is searching for.
And the boy finds a most delightful option.
Chippirabbits feel threatened by groups, but rarely by individuals. This one rolled leisurely in the foliage; bunnies love leaves for some reason. Nobody has pinpointed it yet.
Gogo has to approach carefully, at least to get enough time to focus fully on the animal. He crouches low on the ground in mimicry just as it turns its large ears in his direction. Alert like the rodent, he had to try and be aware of himself while still copying its every move. Tricky.
The chippirabbit looked at him with a fixed gaze, and so did he. Ready to flee.
And then he does it- when the rabbit darts off, the boy digs his fingers and heels on the ground, needing plenty of self-conscience and control to keep himself still, even his breaths and disconnect his being from the rodent's.
A minute later, he opens his eyes. The animal was gone, and he was in the same place, fully conscious. It wasn't as tiring as he imagined it would be.
Always a good student, he half-smiled; the memory of the rabbit was stored and ready for use.
The other animal to run off was a tiny gazelle, leaping high and gracefully as it fled. Gogo had managed to forcehimself off the connection before he mimicked that, but wound up with a faceful of dirt anyways.
Everything is clearer. Bit by bit, Gogo gets to know what he's doing, where he's going.
When a cobra slithers through his way and raises its upper part menacingly, he attempts to mimic it, some distance back, though it's a bit too painful to just do so; he makes himself stand.
The reptile then hisses, long and loud, daring him to come closer. After mimicking it, Gogo is not too foolish; he breaks away and heads back.
He can still hiss like that.
The boy returns home starkingly self-aware and amazed. How many days had it been, three, since he first found out about this? Things are coming easier to him- he doesn't need to focus as strongly as before, he could mimic more detachedly. Control himself some. This was fantastic. How further could he go?
Gogo felt the beginnings of that headache. Which wasn't as harsh, this time. He chose to take it as a sign he was truly improving, after all.
The next day, his headache did not render him a boneless worm, so he instead tried to see for himself whether he could mimic anything without using his powers, if there even was a way. Since his mind was hardly allowing remembrance, then would that count? Granted, the boy wasn't bad at it, when he emptied his thoughts. But he was too keen on improving, evolving per se, to praise himself for the feat yet.
Rest, Gogo. It's his sanity speaking. But wait, when had he stopped being in synch with his sanity?
His control is becoming much better; he doesn't need to grab onto anything to keep his arms from trying to be wings, can imitate sounds without having to crouch or contort in any way to imitate positions. Dedicated, he goes through the most animals he can find without getting lost or life-threatened.
Gogo mimicked more leisurely now, as though he slithered into a thought and then let go of it with ease, without as much of the pains and strains there used to be. It was swift and playful.
Colours excite him, and he makes note to wear more of them.
Not even insects are fully out of his league, as he can roughly mimic their wide eyes and precise walk; there's no animal or monster that can slip out of his ability range. So naturally he thinks himself ready, ready for the world of people and their peculiarities.
The time he does mimic a human again, he wasn't prepared for the shock that came along. It was as though the person he was trying to mimic had opened a book wide ahead of his eyes, and was vaguely talking about her thoughts and pointing out traits of her personality to him. It was vague, yes, but enough to make Gogo feel out of himself. He has to halt his focus immediately to regain the self-control that had slipped out between his fingers.
He had accostumed his mind to the feeling of being out of himself in all those past days. As he learned further control, it wasn't a rule, but he used to be able to feel what the object of mimicry felt, even if vaguely. The other animals had those, but- not in the level of complexity he'd just experienced. They weren't such a... mess.
Back to stake one. He was a student, all over again.