Welcome to Gaia! ::

Oz had spent a sleepless night rolling around on his broken mattress, unable to get comfortable, tormented by a dull but persistant aching in his back and joints, and most notably...in his hands. The amount of knuckle-walking from the days prior had taken its toll, leaving his fingers swollen and very bruised.

They throbbed and they burned and they screamed in protest at every attempt to so much as wiggle his fingers. In the end, he'd spent a few hours propped up in the corner of his room, his long arms just draped at his sides and his hands in a prone, almost lifeless position.

He whined pitifully, feeling so frustrated by the ache. Why wouldn't it go away? What could he do? He didn't want to go to the medical centre, as he was beginning to distrust every 'convenience' the staff had supplied in the village. How could he be sure the people at the medical centre wouldn't do something to further his suffering? Or affect his transformation for the worse? No. He couldn't risk it.

But who else would know how to treat an injury...?

And then it struck him. His downstairs neighbour - Aislinn! She was on a course to be a vet. It was a long shot. She might not know anything about primate anatomy or ailments, but maybe she knew enough general first aid to do something with his hands.

Groaning and wheezing, Oz hauled his heavy arse up and he wobbled down the stairs, almost tripping at the bottom. He hovered at the door, now presented with a new problem. How was he going to knock on her door or push the bell with hands he could barely move?

Taking a deep, quick breath, he clenched his teeth and knocked on the door, immediately growling and whimpering as his hand left the hard door.

Amazingly, Oz's first thought wasn't about Aislinn's lack of a t-shirt or bra. His face was coloured surprised as he took in her new body - a horse's back end.

It really had been a while since they'd seen each other properly.

Finding his bulky torso starting to weigh him down again, he slouched terribly and squeezed his way inside. He felt terrible to put Aislinn out like this, especially when she obvisiouly had her own worries and concerns. For a moment, he almost felt like turning around and leaving, swallowing his pride and going to the medical centre.

Oz looked about sheepishly, feeling quite awkward to be here and be asking for this favour from Aislinn. He sat down on the floor, trying to curl his legs up as much as possible, make himself small. Which was no easy task.

He then stretched his arms out and presented his swollen fingers and hands, looking quite pitifully at Aislinn. More like an animal seeking attention than a friend asking for help.

Oz flinched pre-emptively, expecting Aislinn to touch his swollen fingers, and ultimately shattering whatever 'hard-man' image he may have clung onto using his beefy gorilla visage. At least he'd stopped whimpering.

He watched, guilt still tugging at his insides, as Aislinn had to use the walker to be mobile. At least he wasn't in that position, although walking 'naturally' was what had brought him to her duplex.

"Thank you..." he managed to say through deep grumbles.

Oz was quiet again until she returned with the ice-bag and towel, taking some time to mentally calm down and look about Aislinn's changed duplex. It was a penthouse suite compared to the mess that was Oz's duplex. And between his expansive size and her growing horse body, it must have felt 'cosy'.

He swallowed hard and braced himself for the cold on his throbbing hands. 1...2...3...!

"Aaaggh..." he smushed his hands into the ice-bag/towel, which he'd laid on the floor. "Uggg....I could murder a good cup of tea...."

"Twinnings Earl Grey, if you have it. It was...always my dad's...favourite," he said, his speech disjointed, as it had been since his change.

Oz laughed at the thought of needing help drinking his tea. That meant either Aislinn would have to feed it to him, like he was a baby, OR he'd need a straw. And tea through a straw was a comical sight to behold indeed.

He was impatient with the ice-pack though. After only a few moments, he'd removed one hand to see if the swelling had gone down, and was enevitably disappointed and aggitated that it hadn't.

"How...have you...been? I've noticed...you've got a new arse," he teased.

Oz emitted a sort of rumbling sound, not really threatening but certainly not a friendly sound that echoed around his chest. When this first started to happen, it terrified and confused him, totally unaware that HE was behind these noises. Now, however...well, he'd just had to adjust and ignore. He wasn't in control of these 'growls' and 'rumbles' as they happened so fast in reaction to emotions that there was no use in trying to surpress them.

He was impatient, he was in pain and he was tired. Basically, he was a pouty toddler.

"Yeah...walking sucks at the moment," Oz sighed in agreement. "And who's Brian? Don't tell me I missed my chance to seduce you into bed?" he grinned playfully.

He blatantly ignored the question about Sayuri, at least for now.

Oz inclined his head over to the kitchen, where he heard the whistling of the kettle. She had an old, traditional kettle? Now that brought back fond memories, a gentle smile spreading across his mangled face...

...but for the first time in a long time, Oz never looked more human.

"Yeah...makes you wonder if dating actually counts when you're...not a person anymore," he sort of laughed awkwardly, then felt stupid. At least he was speaking a bit more fluently.

Oz 'chuntered' - it was laughter, but not of a kind Aislinn would have heard before. It was a gorilla laugh.

"I dunno...some men like big bottoms."

Oz cracked a small smile at Aislinn, understanding completely that she wouldn't want to risk scalding herself. She still had human skin on her torso afterall. Leaving the relief of the ice-pack-towel momentarily, he shuffled his great bulk onto his back legs...

...then revealed just how his hands had become so swollen...

Flinching and limping slightly on his arms, Oz knuckle-walked to Aislinn, looking so far removed from the human he used to be. As he reached the counter, he eyed up the cup of tea, wondering just HOW he was going to pick it up.

He tried to thread a fat finger through the handle, but that was mission impossible. Even if his hands weren't swollen, it would have been difficult. He then tried to pick it up with both hands, cradling it in simian fingers like it was a bowl.

"s**t!" he growled.

He'd spilled it.