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Name: Bia Esther Grey


I. The Character Physically
What is the character’s stature and build? Bia's middling to average- 5'5, around 137 pounds. More 'hippy' than she is busty- not prone to long leanness.
How old is she? 27.
Describe her posture. Straight, though she keeps her head down more often than not.
Is she in good shape or out of condition? She's always been more lopsided- favoring her hip area. If she tried to run a mile she'd probably pass out at the half mile mark. She hates to run.
How is her health? Any illnesses or conditions? Any physical disabilities? Bia's pretty decently healthy. She had a very bad bout of food poisoning in college that was somewhat recurring- she finally figured out it was a Chinese Restaraunt she ate at frequently- their chickens were questionable at best.
Is she physically active or sedentary? A fast or slow mover? Almost entirely sedentary- though now with the changes, she's enjoying the outdoors so much more. And she didn't know how much she missed the sky before her room had no windows.
Is she clumsy, awkward, or graceful? Clumsy.
Does she move in straight or curved lines? Is she physically tight or fluid? Straight lines- she doesn't like to waste time (not so badly as words, but still. Much more physically tight- at least in her movements. There's little fluidity to her, except when she's just waking up or still in a dreamy state.
Is the character good looking, pretty, beautiful, average, plain, ugly, disfigured? She thinks she's pretty. Sometimes it's 'cute', sometimes it's 'pretty'- depends on her mood.
Is the character aware of herself physically? Her looks? You wouldn't think so- but she (at least used to- in full human form) put some care into her eye makeup to make her eyes look more catlike, and she wore nailpolish to keep her from biting her nails, so I guess yes.
Describe her complexion and skin. Dark, clear, light, marked? Dark- though she's rather fair-complexioned- her whole family is.
Describe her hair, coloring, styling. Is it taken care of? In human form, her hair was a shade lighter than her skin, and rather hard to control- very kinky/prone to frazzing and curling. She often just slicked it back off her face and pulled it into a knot at the 'knob' of her head or at the nape of her neck. Now she pretty much lets it fly loose- the bird aspect is taking her into a natural slant.
How is her usual dexterity? Does she have good hands: Can she do things? Is she a worker? She'd be a horrible manual laborer. Her hands are okay. Not good, not bad. Okay.
Is she physically tense or relaxed, nervous, controlled? She is a tense individual, and yet very controlled, as well. Controlled as in, the way she governs her frameworks and decides what's right for her at the time. Tense in that it stresses her out a lot. She's prone to breakdowns.
What are her chief tension centers? Her face falls into a gummy, untensed sort of line when she's shocked/upset, and she sometimes sandwiches her hands between her thighs, or sits on them.
What part of her body would you notice first? Hm. Maybe her hair? It's a light color, and can be a bit noticeable against her skintone.
Describe her basic gravity factor. Is there a downward pull or buoyant? Gravity factor- I'd have to say buoyant.

II. The Character’s Clothes
How many clothes does this character have? More now that she's been playing requisition bunny.
What items are in her wardrobe? Some things from before- black slacks, shirts (mostly V-neck, but she preferred longsleeves. She doesn't like the way the skin on her arms look)... but mostly 'lab requisitioned' clothes that are all 'island-y' and colorful.
What are her favorite items of clothing? She's got a nice 'turtleneck dress' that's a light, sagey green- sort of like a long T-shirt (but w/ a turtleneck) all the way down to above her knees.
What colors are the clothes? Is there a wide range? Bright or dull? Old lab clothes were darker/earth tones- now they're mostly bright+ cheerful.
Are the clothes old or new? Mostly new.
Were they bought or homemade, hand-me-downs or expensive? Lab requisitioned
What is one of her favorite items to wear? She's got a blue 'islandy' top with a halter neckline and little white and pink Hawaiian flowers on it.
Do her clothes fit well? Mostly, except for the sake of the changes. She's got a little trouble with her stomach in some of her old shorts- her weight fluctuates these days.
Is she comfortable in what she wears or does she “fight” her clothes? She loves the new clothes.
Is she confident about the way she dresses or uneasy? Very seldom does she feel anything but perfectly okay w/ how she dresses.
Does she care for her clothes? Keep them up to date and neat? Is she worried about how they look? She keeps them clean and neat, though she doesn't like to do it in public. She would prefer to have her own washer/drier- and never folds clothes in the laundry room.
Does she have to dress a certain way because of her job or position? If so, do her usual clothes fit her real, basic personality? She used to for the labwork. And her clothes don't fit her personality either way- casual or work.
Does she dress according to a self-image of herself? Is this self-image conscious or unconscious? At what age was this self-image set? Not really. She's more of an internal than external person/animal. She borrows other people's 'styles' because she doesn't really have one of her own.

III. The Character’s Voice
Does she speak in a high or low pitch? When might she be higher than usual? When lower? Very average.
Is she a loud or a soft talker? Soft talker.
Is there a wide range in the voice’s volume, pitch, and/or quality, or is the voice pretty consistent and even? Pretty consistent.
Is there good resonance to the voice? Is the voice throaty, chesty, heady, nasal? It's got a good tone, maybe- not necessarily resonance. It's a soft, matter-of-fact voice.
Is there tension in the voice? Anxiety? Emotion? Lots of stark, sometimes rude-seeming simplicity and ...preciseness, I guess?

Is there an accent? Anything unusual in pronunciation? Emphasis? Phrasing? Nope.
Is it a trained voice or just natural? Very natural.
Does the character “try” to speak well or just “how it comes out?” She chooses her words very carefully, but she never "tries to speak well". It doesn't come across as anything other than... just what it is.
Is the speech clear or muddy? Does she mumble? Is she distinct? Clear, but soft. Either said avoiding eye contact or a stark, sometimes frank 'waiting' emotion.
Is the voice comforting or irritating? Reassuring or disturbing? Now, with the bird talk, it's much more irritating. Even before, though, she sucked at reassurring people.
Is she self-conscious when she speaks to others? How large a group could she speak to before she became unconscious? She does not like to speak in front of groups at all. She's not shy, but she doesn't want that kind of response. She could probably speak to a very large group without going unconscious, but she'd be very unhappy.

IV. The Character’s Mind
Is the character smart, dumb, naive? Not very naive- although she did accept the position on Moreau's staff. She thought it was her lucky break. She's smart, but not as smart as most people think she is.
Does she think quickly? Slowly? Is she quick-witted? Dull? It takes her a long time to make up her mind, but she's more methodical about her thinking than 'quickfire'.
What kind of education has she had? She has a Master's Degree in Chemistry, and a PhD in Biochemistry.
In what area of subjects does the character have knowledge or expertise? Chemistry, biochemistry... she can make some mean bagels and donuts from scratch, but that's hardly expertise.
Is the character impulsive or deliberate in reaching conclusions? Is he logical, rational, or emotional? When she's reaching conclusions, if she is unstressed, they are very rational and logical. Whenever she is pressed to a decision, or is under duress, it is virtually untouched by logic.
Does she think out things before she speaks or can she “think on her feet” as she is speaking? She doesn't speak much, so most of it is thought through.
Does she have contemplative times? What does she think about when alone? Her 'contemplative times' are more like doldrum times. She doesn't like to think too deeply- especially when she's stressed. She just likes to be, and to take care of herself... self-fulfill, basically. When she does actually think, when she's alone, it's mostly to tie things about her past into why she is what/who she is in the present.
Is she an idealist? A pragmatist? A dreamer? An idea man? An action man? Pragmatist.
Is her life motivated chiefly by abstract ideals or practical rewards? Her life is motivated by trying to find something she's comfortable about, and something that will make her loved and love herself. So... ideals, I suppose.
V. The Character’s Emotions and Personality
Is she an introvert or an extrovert? Introvert.
Does she get along well people? Does she have charm? Are people attracted to her? Does she like people? Oh god no- no charm. She's awkward in her silences, and though people can like her when they get to know her, and even love her because she'll treat her friends well when she knows them... Bia Grey is not altruistic. She likes people, but would give them up to save herself. ...She's had a few 'gay boyfriends', who used her in high school to save face, and a few legitimate bf's- but not many people are attracted to her.
Does she have many friends? Any close friends? Back home, she has six very close friends- and no real 'lesser' or acquaintance friends. Antony (Tony), Silvana, Elizabeth, Kitty, Harmon, and Jonah.
Is she hot-blooded or cool headed? Cool headed.
Does she have a narrow or wide range of emotions? Do they show? Wide range, though they don't show very apparently unless she's stressed- and turns irrational.
Does she indulge in emotional peaks, outbursts, or valleys? Often? Yes. Most definitely.
Would you say she is basically sensitive or callused? Not super sensitive. But I don't think callous is neccessarily the antithesis of sensitive. It's not that she doesn't care. She just doesn't feel things as strongly... well, some things.
Is she suspicious, cautious, trusting, or naïve about new people or situations? Cautious. Definitely.
In a danger or emergency situation would she go to it or run away from it? Run away from it.
Is the character basically nervous or calm? More nervous.
Does the character have a sense of humor? Does she appreciate jokes? Can she see humor in unfunny situations? Can she laugh at herself? She's got a sense of humor that only comes out when she's happy, comfortable, and drawn out by the people she's close to.
Can she tell a funny story or joke? Do others find her amusing? She doesn't tell jokes very well. Most of her jokes are wry, or accidental. No, others don't find her particularly amusing, usually.
Is she a practical joker? What is her opinion of tricks or jokes played on other people? Is his humor ever cruel? No, and her opinion of practical jokes is that she hopes they don't happen to her.
Under what conditions could she be harmful or mean or cruel to another person? If it meant her survival- and if she didn't know them very well/didn't like them. But it drench her in self-destructiveness, afterwards.
Is she capable of relating to one specific person in a romantic way? Yes.
Is she loved by any other people? In what way? Her parents love her, and her sister. I doubt any of her old boyfriends still love her. Not actively, anyway.
Is she romantically in love now? With Whom? Is this a happy, rewarding or frustrating situation for her? No.

VI. The Character’s Wealth, Power, Influence
Does this person have much money? Does it provide position or respect from others for him? No, in fact, she's a lot of student debt.
Is she generous or selfish with his money and possessions? She's never had much to give, but I imagine if she had it she'd be... somewhat possessive of it- except for those close people she's close to.
Is the character socially prominent? Is he prominent from wealth, position, or office, family history, ability or accomplishment? No, she's not prominent at all.
Does the character rate high in the “pecking order” with his household? Town? Area? Nation? World? She came from a middle-class family, and in her family, she and Emily were given equal amount of attention from their parents.
Does this person wield much clout? Nope.
Can she command others to do her bidding, by word or by manipulation? Nope.
How does she get his wishes or why? Luck, mostly- and hard work, for others.
To whom is she subservient? Is this submission willing or unavoidable? She doesn't have much problem with authority- as she distances herself from them, emotionally. She'll follow others because she's disconnected them as being 'people', and thus doesn't have to feel very negative about being bossed/moved around, etc.

VII. The Character’s Activities
How does the character spend his time?
What does her daily routine consist of?
What is her profession or work?
What things does she really like to do?
What things does she hate to do?
Does she play games? What kind?
Does she like to eat and drink? How important to him are food and drink?
How important is sex to her? What sexual activities does she partake in? Anything unusual?
Is her attitude towards sex healthy or disturbing to her? Is sex a rewarding, enriching area of this person’s life or is it frightening, anxious, or frustrating? Is sex a positive or negative factor in her life?

VIII. The Character’s Favorite Things
Colors?
Food?
Drinks?
Smells?
Time of day?
Season of year?
Books?
Kinds of literature?
Authors?
Places to visit?
Kinds of music?
Musical instruments?
Composers?
Metals:
Building materials:
Fabrics:
Pieces of furniture?
Plants?
Flowers?
Trees?
Birds?
Animals?
Miscellaneous?

IX. The Character’s Fears
What things frighten her?
Is she motivated by fear?
To what extent is she motivated: never, occasionally, usually, constantly?
What would this character think were the three most terrible things that could happen to her?
What would she think were the three most wonderful things that could happen to her?

X. The Character’s Religion
What are her specific religious beliefs? Does she belong to a specific sect or creed?
How important is religion to her?
Is she pious, devout?
How does religion motivate her actions or affect them?


And the last two questions:

What kind of underwear does the character wear?
What is the one thing the character doesn't want anyone else to know?


Other:

Character Background: Bia grew up about half an hour away from New York city, in the nice part of an otherwise rather slummy town. Her mother was the town librarian, and her father worked at the DMV- a large establishment, thanks to all the people from 'the city' who would come to get their driver's license in a less crowded place. Her mother was rather distant, always in her own world, and Bia didn’t ever find much in common with her father, who spent a lot of time away from home- in the arms of women who weren't as emotionally unavailable as his wife. So Bia connected to her older sister, Emily- and she emulated her enough to decide to follow in Emily's chosen profession of a scientific researcher or a chemist. Unfortunately, the older Grey girl didn't have the same sort of driving desire to hold onto the major, and switched to design architecture through the middle of her second year. Bia was just going into college at that point- accepted into a promising school- and seriously considered following her sister once again... but realized that the meticulous nature of science and research appealed to her, and suited her. So she kept the major, branching out to take a step on her own- perhaps for the first time in her life.

How does your Character get to/why was your character chosen for the Island? Bia has been on the island for a long time. Back in the'early days'- when Moreau was still stocking his island facilities and overseeing the last minute details before bringing Ambrose and the other, unwilling population in- he still needed one very important thing. Doctors. Researchers. Techs. But back then, it was a little more difficult to find researchers to come to an island retreat to work- ostensibly for the rest of their lives- and especially not to tell them up front what the project was. So, Moreau got whomever he could, knowing that the project would take off (ah, would that we all had the unwavering confidence of Nicholas Moreau...) and that he could constantly refurbish his staff with the very best in time. For now, however... all he needed were those first few to work out the gruntwork. One of the ones he chose was a young Bia Grey- fresh out of her Alma Mater, willing to work and willing to fly anywhere and sign anything... just to have her first job.

It wasn't until later that Bia- and the others that were there from the beginning- knew what they had done, and what they were doing. They'd effectively signed their lives away, and not even for a lifetime of security. In time, as Moreau’s grand vision came to a fruition beyond even his own self-assured hopes, he repopulated his staff with more experienced, willing staff who not only knew what the purpose of the island was, but agreed with it- reveled in it. True, there were still those that were hired as lackeys, and didn't know what was going on- but, for the most part, everyone who came after Bia's 'wave' were more experienced, more qualified... and all around ... more privileged. A select few were even allowed to leave the island under strict circumstances. But not Bia. Bia found herself gradually outmoded- her duties slowly taken away from her and given to the new, more experienced staff. She wasn't allowed to leave the island, to contact her family- in essence, she was as trapped as any other islander. And she didn't even have her work to fall back on. And after a year, and she had been delegated to the absolute minimum of her abilities... coupled with the crippling nightmares she had- Bia decided it was enough- and realized that, as long as she could never leave- she could at least save herself from the endless loneliness and the breath-robbing nightmares that came close to suffocating her every night. At nights, she was afraid to sleep- knowing that she'd wake up, unable to breathe, alone in the dark. Like we all do when we’re overcome by something- she was her own worst enemy, and always seemed to find some way to self-destruct: whether it was in eating too much, or nothing at all- not sleeping, or finding excuses to spend days at a time locked in her room, oversleeping. This way, she could at least have a better life. Like the islanders. So she went to the one doctor who she had some rapport with, who seemed like she might be able to help.

+As of yet, I have no Bia fanart/commissioned pieces. ...I doubt my thirst will be quite as high as for the "unslakeable" Em-art desire. <3 But you never know.

-General acknowledgements/etc post-

The Decision: Part Two

Lunch with a side of Awkward

...Secrets from the Past...


Newt had gotten a lot better at swimming. The same leap to his legs coming in handy for strokes, and if he went enough on instinct, he stopped himself from flailing and kept afloat. Nice and soaked, it was getting later in the afternoon, and he still wanted to do his dumpster diving rounds befor the cleaning crews came in. He didn't bother to bring a towel, preffering the feeling of being drenched, even as he carefully folded his long webbed toes to slip his jumper back on over his swim shorts. He didn't want to get too dirty on his travels, afterall.

It was rarely the case that fortune was too kind to Bia Grey. Her life had been one of too many dark points interspersed with times that, like her name, could only be described as 'grey'. However, on that day, as the once and never-again doctor walked nearer to the lake, fortune was somewhat gentle. She wouldn't come walking upon Newt before he'd managed to slip his jumper back on- which was a blessing. Though he was wearing his swim shorts, there was something jarring- even shocking- about coming across someone who was almost more frog than human.

He was undeniably something less- or more- than human. His skin, his eyes... his legs... even though he did not seem dangerous in the least, it was still somehow appalling to Bia. She stepped back, as if going into the brush again could erase it. But her eyes were stock-still upon the man- for she’d realized something through it all.

“..Newt…”

At the sound of the voice, Newt started, his throat inflating in a terrified croak as he whirled around to see who was there, his webbed hands holding his jumper shut once he had gotten up up and over his shoulders, "Ah-krrKIT!" At the sight of Bia, though, his already impossibly large, bolbous eyes widened further, "Ah... D-d-doctor... d-doctor G-grey! Wh-what... what are y-you...?" Had he still been human, his face would have been bright red. He hadn't seen her since befor- when he had still been employed. And a mammal.

She had backed up without realizing it, pressing into the brush that she'd originally come through. She'd known he was a subject- it had been the whispers around the labs- but something had always stopped her from asking those gossiping few what he'd become. And with all the hoopla and insanity she'd gone through since the time she'd become one of the islanders... she'd almost forgotten about him completely. Now, though, it all came rushing back. "It's not Doctor Grey anymore. It's just... Bia."

"J-just... ah... wh-what..." Newt huddled back in his froggish crouch, fumbling with the zipper of his jumper. He kept his face lowered, embarassed by his changes. It had become easy to ignore the fact he wasn't human anymore when surrounded by strangers who were all just as inhuman as he was, or moreso- but Bia... Bia remembered what he looked like human. When he had still been a happy, loyal employee of the labs. Somewhere deep down, Newt had theorized that everyone back at the labs held him as a sort of inside joke- but he hadn't expected to see anyone from that life again. "what d-do you- ah! Th-they d-didn't... th-they d-didn't f-find out about- about... " Suddenly it dawned on him what she was undoubtfully doing there.

Her eyes went wide. "No. No, they didn't find out. I ...I..." it was hard to say it outright- especially when she'd expended so much effort hiding that fact, now. But Newt knew too much about her- one thing in particular- for her to want to lie to him. "I asked to be injected."

"Y-you... you.... wh-what?" Newt glanced up, gaping in disbelief.

"It's a long story." Suddenly, a sense of thick dread seeped up into her consciousness. "No one knows, though. I mean- the islanders. I haven't told anyone."

"Kn-kn-kn-knows what?" Newt still couldn't take his eyes off of her, shocked. "Th-that you're m-mmm-muh-muh-mad??"

"Uhh.." It was an unhappy, thick sigh, and the only good thing to come with her evident distress was a momentary lapse in realizing she was standing before a massive human/frog mix. "It was either come to the village...or let myself self-destruct in the labs." Her eyes were a plaintive plea- she knew he'd recall those nights she'd wandered from her room, troubled... torn. It was when they'd first met.


He had been attempting to sneak a cigarette in one of the supply cabnets, but unfortunatly had not realized that a small room was not the best way to hide smoke. Especially when he left his mop and bucket-cart right outside. To the casual passerby, smoke had been blatently easy to see drifting up from the crack under the door.

It had been another terrible night, filled with nightmares and aimless wandering that Bia hoped would assuage the fears that lingered when she'd slung the sleep from her shoulders. Her bare feet barely made a sound on the cold floor. She wore little: a long nightshirt- a shapeless T-shirt dress that, in the dim light of the lab hallways registered only as a dark shade rather than the blue it was- and her eyes... registered little at all. Not the smoke, not the floor before her as she shuffled forward- and not the bucket that she went sprawling over as her bare legs connected with the object. The young doctor tumbled forward and clattered to the ground before the smoke-filled closet with a horrible clatter. Water rushed around her where she lay, prostrate on the smooth floor.

At the sudden sound, there was a terrified yelp from within the closet,t eh door flying open in a cloud of smoke as the tall, skinny janitor came fumbling out, the cigarette thrown down to the floor in a desperate attempt to hide what he had been doing, "I w-w-was j-just luh-looking f-for... for... f-fresh pruh-printer ink!" He babbled. His boots skidded on the soapy water befor he even realized he should look down. At the sight of the woman fallen, Newt's expression turned from terrified to rediculous guilt, "Aah! Ah, b-blast it.... all... I... I... ah... I'm s-so so s-so-so-sorry, m-miss!!" He squeeked, immediatly fumbling to help her up again.

She was shaken- from more than just the tumble- but she allowed the fumbling man to aid her to her feet before backing away from the awkward situation. Bia edged out of the growing puddle, crossing her arms in front of her, feeling the weight of the moisture on her shirt as she did. "No, it was my fault. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to knock it over. I wasn't looking where I was going."

The janitor dropped down to try to catch the spill with the rag from his pocket, but it was too much for it to his dismay. He'd have to snag it with the mop. "I... I... Sh-sh-sh-sh-shouldn't have left it in the wuh-wuh-way!"

At the statement, the dark woman's eyes lifted to the doorway that the janitor had emerged from, noticing for the first time the smoke which was still visible on the air. "Were you smoking?" It was not said in an accusatory way, but rather, in that sleepy, seeking manner that only a one AM encounter could achieve.

Newt glanced up sharply, the violently green eyes set into his sunken, emaciated face wide with sudden terror, "P-please d-d-don't t-tell my suh-suh-sss-soo... m-my s-s-ss-ssssupervisor!! I kn-kn-know, it's a t-ter-ter-terrible habit, and I sh-should r-really q-quit, but I h-haven't j-just yet and it's a luh-long sh-shift and if I w-went outside th-they'd-!"

Her voice was a strange, muted calm to his terror. "I won't say anything. I don't exactly paint a picture of a perfect staff member, wandering the halls in the middle of the night." For some reason, her words ended in a sort of a whisper.

He quieted, straightening slowly, his prominant adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "I p-p-pruh-promise I... I w-won't d-do it again," He whispered back, as though afraid of whatever it was that was making her so soft spoken.

"Really, don't... worry about it." She uncrossed her arms and then crossed them again, struck by this strange encounter- and a little at odds. "I didn't mean to be rude and ask, Mr...?"

"Ah... F-filinas, m-ma'am.... N-newton F-filinas...."

Despite herself, she laughed at the 'ma'am'. "It's not ... ma'am. Just Bia."

"I...I'm s-s-sorry.. ah... B-bb-b-buh-Bia!"

"You don't have to apologize. I'm the one who knocked over your bucket. I ..." she didn't know what else to say.

"It's... it's alright!" he clutched his mop, quickly turning to try to clean up the mess as quickly as possible like the good, loyal janitor he was.

Bia only nodded, and backed away without turning, edging along the wall back in the direction that she'd come- making sure to go wide around the puddle. "I... I better get back."

"I'm s-sorry if I in-in-interupted anything..." Newt mumbled, feeling more and more guilty, rediculously so.

"No. I was just trying to get something off my mind." It was a strange sort of confession- more raw than the doctor would have liked. But already, she had seemed exposed- walking in her nightshirt, her feet and legs bare, the hair around her face a wild mane of mess. In a way, the man had helped her with her goal- but as there was no need to tell him that, she did not bother to speak the words. She only turned and started to wander back down the way she'd come: back down the long hallway to where her room waited at the end of the darkness.

The janitor had certainly changed since the time she had first laid eyes on him, especially concidering she needed to look down to him while they were speaking. To the frog-man, she hadn't changed at all, though, save for being a bit better groomed and clothed now. The idea that she would now end up like him...? "D-do... d-do you kn-know wh-what...?" He began quietly.

"No." It was an instantaneous, almost fearful response. "No." Softer then, less insistant. "I didn't want to know."

Newt fell silent, giving a timid nod of understanding. He huddled between his knees, his throat trembling froggishly. After a few moments, he spoke up again, "I... I'm s-suprised... y-you r-ruh-recognized me."

There was something sad about that statement, and it struck a chord in Bia that she could only begin to understand. It rang deep to a place that reminded her that this was what she had chosen... while this man had not ever been given the choice. For the first time in a long time- Bia felt a real, panging guilt, and she hardly knew what to say. To a woman who chose her words so carefully- it meant a very long silence. "I knew you'd been...sent out here."

His eyes swiveled to the side at the sight of a dragonfly that had whisked it's way along the surface of the lake, heading straight towards them, "It w-was... m-my j-jumper, w-wuh-wuh-wasn't it?"

A small smile came across her still so human face. "The hair, too."

"M-most has f-f-fuh-fallen out... in the buh... in the b-buh-back..." He trailed off, his tonuge suddenly leaping out to snatch the dragonfly and snap it back to his mouth with a terrible crunch befor he even knew what he was doing.

She gasped- and slammed her eyelids down upon themselves. She had not learned how to graciously accept these changes- not even close. It was very clear by the look of horror on her face, and by her inability to look at all... how she felt about the changes that had happened to this kind janitor.

Whatever enjoyment Newt got out of his lakeside treat was sapped by one look at Bia's face. He hobbled back away from her, spitting out the crushed remains frantically, "I'm s-sorry! I'm s-sorry I d-didn't m-mean to... to... aah!!"

She hadn't opened her eyes- but now, covered her face with her hands- less for some imaginary need to have something more between them than as a sort of apology. "I'm always doing something to make you apologize, Newt. Don't worry about it. I'm the one who's wrong." The words were muffled through her hands, though they echoed in the little cave she'd created on her face.

"It's... it's the suh-suh-serum! It... it... m-my.. my t-tongue I m-mean... It h-happened b-befor I c-could th-think!"

She dropped her hands, and her face was exposed. Her eyes were open. "Don't worry about it!" Her voice was nearly frantic, now.

Newt was trembling where he crouched, as though he were fighting that froggish urge to leap away from her and into the safety of the lake, his arms wrapped aorund his head as he gave a miserable sob, "Y-you m-m-must find me d-duh-disgusting!"

"No. Just different. It's all so different. I'm not used to it yet." The sob, and the wretched sort of self-embrace tied Bia's stomach into knots. "It's not you. It's me."

"Of c-course it's m-me! I'm th-the... th-the g-giant f-frog, aren't I??"

"It's the serums. It's what they did. They're the ones that disgust me, not you."

Newt glanced up slightly at that, his brows furrowed. Despite everything, he had never really lost his loyalty to the labs- just because he disagreed with them, didn't mean they were wrong- afterall, who'd trust the word of a janitor over the word of a top of line scientist? "T-to... to th-their c-credit... I... I n-never r-really d-do anything to d-deserve a b-better s-serum th-than th-this..."

That struck her dumb. Of all the things in her head, none of them would come free succinctly- or even intelligently. So she remained, hovering before the brush, starting at a man who had been nearly halved by the onslaught of his change. Was it only in height? She wondered what else the serum had done to his mind- then berated herself for the thought. If he was mad, then what under God's good sun would that make her? She didn't know- and it was that, with all the other tumultuous thoughts that left her silent... staring at the frogman, unintentionally leaving him to draw what conclusions he may from her silence.

"Ah... at... at l-least I'm n-not a w-worm, th-that's wh-what I k-keep t-telling myself! It'd b-be hor-hor-horrible, if it w-were a w-worm! All b-blind and... and wr-wriggly and... and... it'd b-be even more d-difficult to g-get around th-than h-hopping, th-that's f-r sure!" He babbled.

"You don't deserve any of it, Newt." She found her words, but they were tentative... sad. "Do you really think that what you did was enough to warrant this?"

"I... I... th-they... th-they th-thought it d-did... I... I've m-made a l-lot of m-mistakes! Y-you... you kn-know how... how cl-clumsy I am..."

"That doesn't justify this." She couldn't bring herself to specifics. As well as anyone, Bia knew of the extent of island surveillance. She didn't kid herself to believe that any conversation was a private one, and there was just something fearful about saying something so specifically about the serums or the cruelties. Not when she'd thrown herself to their mercy. Not when the little comfort she'd gained since leaving the labs was still directly tied to their acceptance of her.

"I.... I....I l-lost th-the lable of a s-serum! S-some p-poor s-subject d-doesn't know what they'll b-be... n-no one d-does! B-because of m-me! And... and a m-million other th-things I've d-done over the y-years!" He hopped forward towards her suddenly, trying to seem brave as he defended them.

It took all her willpower to shove down the desire to cross her arms before her and back away- or to close her eyes and pretend he wasn't drawing near her. It was foolish, she reminded herself- he was just Newton. She knew Newton. She'd met him several times in the dark hallways or in the labs in the middle of a long night's workload. He had taken care to never tell anyone her secret... he was a sweet, if bumbling man. She didn't have to fear Newt. It was a sort of self-chant- a reminder, as she evened her breath and answered with a voice too intent to stay calm. "Even that, Newt. It was an accident. They were all accidents. No one had the right to take away your humanity."

Newt stopped at that, huddlng back as frog-like as ever, his wide round eyes wobbling and watering. It didn't take long befor large, fat tears were sliding down the man's face miserably, "I.... it..... sh-sh-shuh...!!"

Despite the various encounters they had- and their strange, particular history- nothing in their line of meetings had ever prepared Bia for this. They weren't so close that the self-contained woman could even begin to feel comfortable wrapping her arms around him to comfort him. It was all she could do to stand there and even acknowledge his tears, and not pretend they did not exist... or run back to the village. A warm flush spread to her cheeks, and she barely breathed for the sake of the supremely awkward moment. "I... oh Newt. I ..." she bit down on her bottom lip very hard, but no more words would-or could-come.

After a few gulps of air, Newt managed to find his voice again. He hopped to the side so he didn't have to look at her, wobbling as he landed, "I... I c-c-can't help wuh-what I'm b-becoming... I j-just... w-want to s-see.. th-the g-good in wh-why th-this h-happened... S-someone... h-had to t-test... the frog... b-better s-someone l-like m-me... th-than... s-someone l-like you..."

Bia's eyes went wide with a sort of innocence- or stupidity. "What do you mean, someone like me?"

"Y-you know... j-just... b-better!" He didn't know how to describe it! His father had simply said for him to mind his "Betters" and that he was a "Failure". That was just how the world worked.

"I don't know any better. I came to the island thinking they were going to give someone with no experience a fantastic job. I didn't even realize they were sticking me here for life."

"At l-least y-you q-quit... y-you... w-weren't *f-fired*..." Newt's voice was soft and wobbly. He had never really admitted it out loud, although he had steadily shed himself of his previous duties. Perhaps he just didn't want to admit it. But it was true.

It wasn't the first time Bia found herself immersed in pity for the man- but somehow, it was heightened by his current state, not for a small sake that she realized that she soon would be in a similar predicament. In a way, her pity for Newton mirrored her own self-imposed martyrdom. "My duties were taken away from me almost from the moment I arrived. They might as well have fired me." Her shrug was listless- weak. "I was just a busywork tech they couldn't get rid of."

Newt wobbled, thinking through what she was saying befor he hung his head even lower, "I... I s-suppose I sh-shouldn't be com-complaining, then..."

"Not what I meant." She sighed. "Complain all you want. I'm not going to judge you."

He finally got his zipper up, stopping it befor it pinched his neck, and left enough space in case a bout of his "froggish hiccups" as he liked to think of them came back. He fidgeted with the zipperpull, debating whether he should excuse himself or attempt to catch up further. They'd only met in passing, afterall. "I... I h-hope... ah... y-you'll... s-sleep b-better now," He managed lamely.

A smile was an odd thing to be born in such a tepid conversation. And yet, at Newt's words, there it was, a burgeoning, infant thing spreading across her lips. "Thank you. So far, I have been. ...I hope... you've been... okay."

"I... I m-met a g-girl, b-but I d-don't think she l-likes me.... at l-least... y-you know, l-like *th-that*..." His own mouth trembled into a weak smile, and one had to wonder- when he grew even more froggish than he was now, would his rediculous teeth still remain?

His weak smile gave strength to her own, and she found herself moving a step forward out of her hovering pose before the bush- the first time in the conversation. "Oh? ...Who?" She knew- at least for files' sake- most of the islanders, and she was curious which one had caught Newt's bulbous eyes.

"Ah... m-m-mmiss... N-natsumi... sh-she's insectiverous l-like m-me and... ah... w-well, sh-she's a g-g-gecko and um..." He floundered, looking thouroughly embarassed on the subject.

"I haven't met her, yet. But I remember her file from the labs." That reminded her, then, of something that had been yet promised- and she let a twist of anxiety draw the plea from the pit of her stomach once again. "Would you... promise not to tell the rest of the islanders ...about me? I mean, that I'm a doctor... and all?"

"Ah... oh... y-yes, I... I p-promise, of c-course! After... after all th-the things I heard have... have happened to st-staff... I m-mean... I w-was almost eaten a f-few t-times myself-!"

"Eaten? ...So it's true- there are dangerous islanders." It was less of a question than a statement thick with fear. Bia had heard rumors- and of course, everyone in the labs knew the story of Ms. Brooks and Ms. Anderson- but there had been a thick wall she'd built around her with bricks of denial and mortar of fear. "But thank you. Now I guess you've got two secrets of mine to keep."

"I'm g-guh-guh-good at k-keepign secrets," Newt's weak smile returned with a vengance, "I suppose it c-cuh-cuh-comes with n-no-no-not being able to sp-speak p-properly."

"I think it's just that you're a good man." If she weren't already so dark, her skin would have paled then, at that moment. She did not mean to say 'man'- though, surely, with hindsight, she wondered what she might have said in its stead. For what was he- if not a man?

He didn't seem to mind, though, his throat inflating slightly as he tried to buckup and look just a bit more sure of himself.

"Well, I'm sorry to have interrupted anything. I was just taking a walk." She cleared her throat, then wondered how long she'd be able to do that- whether the change would alter so much more about her.

"N-no... I... I w-was j-just... um... f-finishing up... er... d-doing s-some... f-frog things," He laughed weakly, as though this were some sort of joke.

Whether it was the sake of having secured his promise... or that she was getting used to the frogman, her smile was- if not beaming- at least real. She did not laugh at his joke- merely nodded with that tentative smile. "Mm. Well, I should get back." She turned then, considering, gave a look over her shoulder. "Thank you, Newt."

"I... I s-suppose I'll s-see you again s-sometime?"

"Mm." It was a noise to the affirmative. "Be well." And then, turning on the flat heels, Bia turned back to the village.

Newt watched her go, waiting untill she was out of sight befor hopping home himself. He supposed he shouldn't have been suprised, but he honestly was. Hopefully Bia would be happier here than she had seemed back at the labs, at the very least.

Before everything had gone so terribly wrong, life for Bia had been simple, even plodding. There was little to distinguish the woman who had once been a girl- except perhaps the distinction of the oddity... of being almost entirely normal. When you stop to think about it, with all the secrets and quirks and kinks in the world, there are very few 'normal' people around. Perhaps there never were any normal folks- they were always a myth, hiding their darkness behind prim Puritan hats and the strict standards imposed on a society of people who died too young, and worried too much. That seems more likely than the possibility of there being an underground society of the 'normal' folk: going about their normal lives away deep where their American cookouts and unexceptional ideals will be untainted by the weirdness of the 'upground'. Truly, if there was such a thing- then Bia was far away from her 'people' as a series of changes washed over her to make her anything but normal.

When Bia sat up at the edges of her mountain-oppresion dream, the look of shock on her face and lingering as the dream slipped into the nebules of sleep were less for the sake of the terrible images than of surprise. She'd not had the familiar nightmare since she'd moved from the labs, and waking up now to find the same old imagery dancing through her mind filled her with a blustery confusion that was only slightly contained by a brittle, yet hard shell... of supreme ache.

She was not in the labs- the soft green comforter with its delicately beaded edges- something almost too pretty to have come from the labs- was a warm nest around her, and the sunlight shone through the open curtains. Bia breathed a breath of relief- patting back the thick mass of her hair where it had stuck itself into a jazzed lightning rod in the middle of the night. It was not to be that this sense of relief would spread any further than that singular intake of breath. The ache in her bones was deep, and only thickened as it seemed to seep to the surface over the course of the next hour.

At first, Bia denied the ache- it was just a bad case of muscle tension that was the case of having "slept wrong". She'd never known what that meant- or if there was a way to 'sleep right', but it had been a phrase of her mother's. Whenever she or Emily would wake up with the complaints of a sore arm, or a cramped leg, Mrs. Grey would just shake her head and proclaim that "you must've slept on it wrong".

And so, as Bia went about her newly ritual morning routine, she assured herself in the first ten minutes or so that the deepening ache was a case of her incorrect sleeping... but even as the pain tripled in her face and hands, she could no longer deny what was obviously oncoming. Hadn't she heard the whispers in the labs of what happened when one of "the subjects" was changing?

The pressure in her rose, fighting against some invisible gauge of humanity. Finally- it burst, and with a push, the bones in her fingers crumbled and snapped as they made way for the calcium-insistant farmers that were the infintesimle bits of the serum. She was one of "the subjects". She had realized it before- let the truth sink down as deep as the now-ache that resided within her core... but never before did it hold so poignant a truth as when her humanity slowly slipped away from her.

No- not slipped. Any term that can be used to describe the flow of water from parched lips down through waiting fingers cupped below is too gentle- and far too inaccurate for the process that Bia was enduring. Wrenched is closer- wrestled, torn- that was how her humanity was taken from her. Her fingers stretched, and the base of her spine twisted and contorted its way into a protrusion no human could boast. Needles made of fine-tipped ice and fire sizzled along her arm and on that infant, nerve-rich skin on that which could only be called a tail. Behind the sensation followed the birth of new, dark shafts of feathers, unfurling as they pushed past the widening pores. It went unnoticed- a small favor to the woman- but a number of downy arm hairs fell to the ground, unanchored as their pores widened and abandoned their follicles.

Her toes, too- a precious few fused together, the skin sucking to its brother and absorbing it like a virus. That change, however, along with the pinfeathers that gathered beneath her jaw and neck in thicker clumps- were almost wholly unnoticed by Bia Grey- former doctor- and forever slave on the Island of Doctor Moreau. For something far more inexplicable was tearing her attention away from the rest of the changes.

She had since fallen to the bed with sobs as the changes came over her- twisting one way and another, no cathartic thoughts or past memories washing over her memory. If anything, her mind was blank- a canvas for her pain, wishing only for the world to go away and leave her with something other than the ache and the inhumanity of it all. Pain shrinks our world, sucking all the extra 'noise' into a meaningless file- something to be attended to when the pain subsided. If the pain ever subsided. As when you are hungry, it is nearly incomprehensible to imagine yourself satiated- pain ties you to a thin board, and binds your eyes from anything else.

Her jaw was not alone in the screwing mumble of pain. As if the feathers had not told her one very true thing about what she was becoming, surely, she would understand the nature of her serum when her jaw restructured itself, pushing forward with jerking, crunching motions. Her lips- those little bow-shaped lips- one of her high school boyfriends had called them a heart once, and Bia had never forgotten it, though it was far from true- they peeled away with the surrounding skin to accommodate this new, almost feverish change as her bones restructured... those lips would never be called a heart again.

That cone of a beak took on a discolored tinge, and pressed against what was left of her nose in a way that she didn't know whether it was that change that left her short of breath... or the experience itself.

She lay on the bed, then, for nearly an hour after the changes had finished, feeling the ache only slowly subside, and wondering every moment whether a tinge on her spine or an itch on her arm was the precursor of another change. When it was clear that she had finished, Bia let the obvious thought enter her mind. She was a bird.

Then, it seemed, her mind tried to make up for that long time she had not allowed it to feel anything but her distress. She wondered what sort of bird- whether she would have the guts to ask the labs... or if she even wanted to know at all. She regretted her decision, and then validated again- she looked out that window at the beautiful blue sky, and wondered if it was because of her change that she thought it looked all the more beautiful. She realized she might one day fly- and that gave her a sense of terrified elation- an emotion unrivaled to any other she had ever felt in her life. How to reconcile two halves of her being... or was she so duplicitious, now that she was so different? What makes a man- or a monster... and what is the good in defining the two if it is so easy to blur the line between them? Bia pressed her forehead to the wall near the window, and felt a million emotions- everything from an agonizing glee to a deep-seated wonderment. Her emotions were dark, beautiful, complex... and beneath it all, a thin veneer of an animal presence lurked, adding to her caution and her elation all at once.

There is no such thing as normal. Not for Bia. Not anymore.