Rohaan hadn't been sure of how Berlin would react to their plan. When they'd visited and told him they had a plan for what would be arguably the biggest heist in history, he simply laughed and said, "Oh ho ho! So you've actually got a plan for once!" Rohaan rarely ever planned much beyond maybe peeking in through a window, or perhaps watching the changes of guards. A trait that would one day get him killed, Berlin always scolded. But as the isfahaan, the siblings, told him the details of their plan, the old pirate nearly teared up with fatherly pride.

"Damn if you two really haven't grown up...ah! You've both come so far from picking pockets." It was as if they'd announced they were starting their own business venture, or were betrothed to be married. In a way, one of them sort of was. Gaining Berlin's approval had not been strictly necessary, but to Rohaan at least, it meant the world to him. He learned everything he knew about cons and heists and outright piracy from him, and still considered the old man to be a master at his trade.

The preparation had taken a while. There was so much groundwork to lay, both materially and socially. Rohaan had spent a lot of time sourcing (stealing) materials for rich clothing for Vequaniel to wear. He insisted the outfits be real and not the work of their telepathic magic, or some other form of illusion. Illusions could be broken, and were tiresome to keep up. Fabric would last. He even made off with a horse and carriage for them, though that proved to be an especially bloody venture. Horses and other animals feared Rohaan, as they did most shifters, and the poor beast bolted in a panic all the way back to their hideout while Rohaan drove the carriage in a drugged stupor from a poisoned blade someone had cut him with in the encounter. He was bedridden for a day and a half after that. But the carriage was repainted so as not to be identified, and the horse was soothed and mostly kept away from Rohaan. Before long, Vequaniel had all the trappings of an upper class socialite.

There was a reputation to build, too. If the public and the courts were going to believe Vequaniel was some yet-unheard of person of wealth and dignity and standing, then they needed to know of them before meeting them. The pair spread rumors, forged papers, sent gifts, and eventually wrote letters to important people in order to establish them. Now, it was time to put all their hard work to the test.

Rohaan checked over the carriage one last time, making the horse whinny and stamp and toss her head as he passed. He sighed. "You might want to convince that thing I won't eat it." He Hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the poor beast. "I've got a feeling we'll be...getting to know each other in this venture. Wouldn't do to have you ride into town pulled by a mad horse, now would it?" Rohaan picked something out of his teeth with the small knife he kept in his boot--more of a tool than a weapon. He was practically feral when Berlin found him, and though he'd civilized some as an adult, that wild, animal nature had not wholly left him. Compared to his sibling, he was far more rough, crass, uncouth, and unkempt. He had a dangerous, weathered look about him, and a loose moral compass to match it.

"Well, you about ready, then?"

Vequaniel wasn’t worried about their father’s reaction. Berlin always congratulated the smallest of victories. They did expect the mocking first though, they always went in blind when doing robberies but this required more precise planning. Arguably it was going to take a lot of time to gain the right amount of trust. This was the ultimate long con. The twenty three year old did most of the talking for they were taking the most dangerous role in all of this. One bad move and both of them could be executed. It was high stakes, just the sort of adrenaline rush they needed. Seeing their father tear up caused many emotions to swell in their chest, they cleared their throat and smiled “Thank you Father” they bowed their head slightly as they spoke. Vequaniel had never called Berlin by name, they would always call him Sir and Father. Rohaan on the other hand had many names that Vequaniel would call him. They never knew if Rohaan liked the nicknames and probably would never ask.

As a telepath Vequaniel had a moral code. To never forcefully read Rohaan’s or Berlin’s mind. Anything goes when it comes to other people but they would never hurt their family with their powers. It was the honour among the family. It was like how Berlin had promised to not use his abilities on the pair unless strictly necessary. It was the least that they could do after being taken in after murdering their family. Would have been easier to have just turned them into the guards and get the reward. Vequaniel was forever grateful, always wanting to prove themselves worthy a way of earning their keep.

Picking pockets and petty theft came easy to the younger of the two though it did take a while for them to be able to do so without the use of their power helping them along. The amount of times Rohaan had to help them get out of a bad situation were too many to count, even though Vequaniel tried to help their brother the damn man was too stubborn to take the house and would often just end up fighting his way out. The amount of times they had told him that it was far easier to just erase the memories of the robbery gone wrong. It was a house of memories that Vequaniel protected. Rohaan was everything to them the only brother who had never continually hurt them.

The idea of getting betrothed and then getting married for a heist was slightly less daunting than what they had initially thought but as they started to do the work to build a reputation and a look and a name for themself it became exciting. If this went perfectly Rohaan and them would be immortal even after death still talked about.

The persona that had been crafted was perfect. Princess Andromeda Temperance of Galelallan the youngest daughter of King Regulus. It was a long shot going with a princess but people believed it as they started to build a reputation for her. Vequaniel had found a tailor willing to make dresses for them without pay (with some persuasion using telepathy). That was why everything was working so well Vequaniel had a key to unlock the door of people’s minds. The rumours of word of mouth spread like wildfire and the letters that were exchanged between her and the prince had them at a vantage point of having a reason to go to the palace. Vequaniel would have preferred to just use telepathy but after an entire day of having to project lavish clothing onto themselves and change the appearance of Rohaan they fainted whilst training with Berlin and almost had some major injuries. Vequaniel still insisted on changing Rohaan’s eye colour to not be identified as a shifter.

When Rohaan was bedridden Vequaniel didn’t leave his side for more than a few minutes to get them both food. Though they did find it funny that the horse hated him and it was a funny prospect to have their six foot brother was down for the count from one cut. It was the first time in a long time that Vequaniel looked like an upper class person. It also wasn’t common knowledge of the family. Feigning memory loss was easy; they would rather not talk or think about it. Vequaniel also was always using their telepathic projections to hide scars and anything that would worry Berlin or Rohaan. Hiding headaches was normal for them.

Today was the day.

A years work had all been leading up to this moment. Vequaniel woke up earlier than they ever had to get ready. First they did a small training session by themselves just as a means of releasing all the nervous energy they had. Then they started to get changed into one of the lavish dresses they had been made. It was a baby pink colour with an offwhite front panel with rose details across the bodice. It was floor length and made of light fabric. The sleeves were three quarter length and had a small amount of tulle as the cuffs. To be able to wear the dress a corset had to be first put on. That was what Vanquiel had looked forward to the least. They breathed in and started to work on putting it on, they had never done it before so there was much they needed to learn. Eventually as the others in their family stirred they were able to do up the corset and put on their dress. The shoes were of the same colour of the dress they were small pumps with the same rose detailing. Looking in the mirror they were reminded of a time long gone.
After pacing the room for what seemed like an hour they finally sat down on a stool and brushed their hair and started to style it, taking the bead from out of their braid and using it as a decorative piece at the back of their head. Minimal makeup was applied but enough to look like royalty.

Goodbyes were hard for Vanquiel, they spent a few minutes hugging their father before walking over to the carriage. Then to realise they had forgotten the most important part of the outfit. They ran into the house again to emerge a few seconds later wearing a tiara, once again strutting over to their brother who was using his knife as a toothpick “You know you could lose a tooth doing that” they chuckled. Sometimes the habits that Rohaan exhibited were quite disgusting to them. Actually most of the time. It was obvious that Rohaan wasn’t the most refined of people but that didn’t mean that they didn’t love their brother. Vanquiel looked over to the horse smiling , moving their index and middle fingers to their temple. Within a few seconds the horse was completely calm. “It’s a good thing I’m the one being a royal here” and with that the five foot two telepath moved closer to the carriage looking over their shoulder towards Rohaan it took them a few moments to reply but they decided to go with “Quite” using a pretentious accent that only a true royal could have.

"Aint' gonna loose no tooth," he scoffed, though he put the knife away. "Vequaniel, Isfahan, we all know I wouldn't look nearly as good in a dress as you..." He gave a twirl, and mid twirl he changed his shape to a feminized version of himself with gaudy makeup and a similar looking dress to Vequaniel's. He frowned down at the fabric, which had been enchanted to change shape with him. "That's a lot of pleats to get blood out of...not sure it works for me." He chuckled and shifted back to his natural shape--blonde curls unkempt in a messy bun, and wearing dark pants and a dark vest over a loose, ashy-gray shirt.

"Blech," Rohaan said mockingly in response to their uppish affectation. It was good, and very convincing, but Rohaan never liked it. Too good, he always said. His love was for the seedy, underappreciated folk of the world, and he resented most of the upper-crust of society. They had only ever burned him. Shifters were unwelcome in society--even amongst the lowbrow folks--and the rich folks made laws that shifters could neither buy nor sell in polite society in order to keep them away. It usually worked, and the Vokurian people preferred to keep to themselves anyway. But for Rohaan, who had been separated from his people for twenty years and had been forced into human society, it left him no other choice but to pursue a life of crime. He did it with gusto. And while the rich and the powerful knew of him as a notorious villain, but the low, downtrodden, and outcast of society knew him as a champion of the neglected. Both he and Vequaniel had a heart for urchins and beggars.

He was about to get into the carriage's driver's seat when Berlin stopped him. His big hand gently caught the shifter's arm. "Rheoaan, lad." he looked him straight in the eyes; Berlin's were cool and comforting and vast as the sea. "You protect them, you hear?" Vequaniel did not often need protecting, but their abilities favored avoiding a fight rather than winning one already started. That's where Rohaan came in. He usually started fights, but he always finished them. And anyone who thought they could do harm to Vequaniel discovered all too quickly that they'd need to deal with Rohaan, first.
"Aye. I will."
"And give every last one of those rich bastards hell."
Rohaan grinned. "Aye, Ca-mm." Rohaan's native language did not have a 'p' sound, so when he first met Berlin, he heard crewmates call him 'Cap'n', and his 8 year old mind managed a very pronounced, 'Ca-mm'. It stuck.

Berlin hugged him and watched as the shifter climbed up into the driver's seat. Rohaan made sure Vequaniel was inside and flicked the reins; the animal, now less afraid of Rohaan, dutifully trotted off towards the road.

"You know, V, they're gonna know who I am. I got me a very...infamous face. And frankly? I want them to. I want them to lie awake at night wondering how Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja'aisen managed to make his way into court. I want them to hate it and be absolutely powerless to change it." He cackled. "Can you manage that, you think?"

“You will if I…” they cut themself off knowing they were being harsh. The nervous energy rising in their system once again. It couldn’t be helped. They knew where they came from and hoped that this would be different. They had a confused look on their face seeing their brother in a dress “You look awfully comfortable brother, is this how you get money on the side?” they chuckled. Vequaniel had always been mesmerised by their brother’s ability to shapeshift it was an interesting ability. It made them wonder what part of their genetics had mutated to cause it. “Ah yes because you can’t go without killing for more than a few hours, you know you won’t be able to do that when we are among royalty they will have you executed for that sort of behaviour and I would follow because I advocated for you to stay” They usually enjoyed their brother’s dark humour and amusement in the hyper violent. Today was one of those days when they wished they weren’t putting their brother in harm's way. He could handle himself of course but Vequaniel had the right to worry, Rohaan was reckless it was only natural for them to worry.

They raised their eyes to look at Rohaan as he made a noise of disgust. They scrunched their nose and poked out their tongue towards their older brother and shook their head, eyes closing as they did. Perhaps it would be enough for the older of them to not notice the obvious stress they were feeling. Vequaniel found themselves being sort of a robin hood type. Often stealing things that they didn’t need to give to those that needed it. Sometimes even giving what they did need because they knew they could steal more. It was almost them atoning for their crimes. It wasn’t like they were a flagellant, it was just doing what the criminal system failed to do to them. It was somewhat poetic justice knowing they actually fought with a whip.

It could be argued that Vequaniel changed their appearance more often than the shifter. That’s how they were somehow not a prevalent criminal alike to their brother. They did spend some time with the beautiful blue eyes their brother possessed. They knew how Shifters were treated by most of society. It was unfair and tore at their upper class privileged heartstrings even when under Berlin’s wing. Human society was confusing to the telepath, unfortunately for them being a telepath wasn’t a new species it was a mutation of the human genome. Their mother wasn’t like them the same as their step-brother and step-father. They didn’t know their father, he died when they were young then their mother remarried one of their father’s friends. Their family in general wasn’t the kindest of people to the lower folk, they were rich they didn’t need to be. Higher society socialites were where they wanted to have ties so they made sure to follow the guidelines of how to act like them.

The youngest of them climbed into the back of the carriage. They smoothed out their dress trying to seek comfort in the smooth material under their fingers. Their mind wandered to fantasising about meeting a prince and marrying him, a child-like dream that they had had many times. Not prophetic but it was the fault of the stories they were read by their mother. It was their dream from a young age but obviously they had grown out of it when they realised the real world wasn’t like that but somehow they were able to live that life to pull off a heist. Vequaniel couldn’t hear the conversation for they were too deep in thought staring at the walls of the carriage that had been painted to resemble a made up kingdom of Galelallan that Princess Andromeda Temperance was from.

They were removed from their daze as the carriage started moving it shocked them with a small gasp. Their brother had a point, they sighed turning behind them to look at Rohaan “Rheohaan we cannot afford any suspicion, perhaps I should change your eyes then you can hide in plain sight” they suggested “This is very important brother” it brought a smile to their face hearing their brother’s laugh a brief moment without worry. The stakes were high for them everything had to be perfect. Like a princess. Perfect.

Vanquiel knew they were always going to be in danger being that their whip was hidden under the dress as an extra level of corsetry. It wouldn’t be easy access to their weapon if they really needed it. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to needing it though.

Rohaan sucked his teeth, scowling a little at their words. He hated the very idea of having his eyes 'changed' in any way. One would think that a creature whose shape was so fluid and ever-changing would have no issue with just one more aspect of their appearance changing. but for the vokurian people, their distinctive eyes and blood were points of pride. So much had been taken from them, and much more was denied to them that was never theirs to begin with. But those two things belonged to them and to no other people. To hide them was to hide away the souls of his ancestors, whose blood had been spilled into the sea and the stone, never to be reclaimed. They lived on in those eyes, and their stories were written in his silver blood. He did not want to hide them. To keep them from being seen was one thing, but to lie about them outright was something else entirely.

"I don't like it. I don't want to hide. My people have always hidden, and still we have been cast away and slaughtered. If we're going to do this, and I'm going to go rub elbows with these murderers," he hissed, a sudden dark and violent edge in his tone, "then I want them to know that it's me, and what I am, and I want them to squirm as I take back what I'm owed. And I will laugh as it vexes them." Rohaan had told Vequaniel extensively of how he came to be with Berlin. He had asked no questions about their story, and it had taken him years before he plucked up the courage to tell them. And when he eventually did come out with the story, he did not spare any gritty detail of how the slavers came and raided the village, killing adults and incapacitating and stealing the children. He told of his desperate escape, how he nearly died in the bay of Telor, how he came ashore starving and alone in a land where he did not speak the language, but where people kicked him and beat him if they caught him anywhere near them or their shops. It was easy to see, then, how he'd come to be so bitter towards humans as a whole, but he had nothing but outright hate for the human-elite, who made it intentionally difficult for his people to even survive. It was hard to blame him.

"And anyway, what are you going to do, constantly alter the minds of a hundred or two people--servants and elites alike? What if you get hurt or sick or something, and you can't keep it up? What if someone comes in and sees me before you've had a chance to tamper with them? I'm too identifiable, too notorious. They'll know eventually, and it will ruin us if they find out you're capable of deceit like that. No, it needs to be real. Or at least, whatever tampering you do needs to be subtle and backed by a tangible story." He thought for a moment, scratching his short beard. "I could change my shape at first, and you could cloak my eyes until we establish you. And when you've got some clout, we'll set up some kind of con. Lets say I hire a ruffian or two to rough you up, and I, as myself, come and stop them. You could be so grateful for my heroic and selfless deeds that you insist on making me your personal guardian and advisor. Say it's the custom where you're from to honor such deeds with lofty titles. They'll all question it for sure, and they'll insist on clapping me in irons." He snorted a laugh. "I'd like to see them try...but then you sneak in and just do a little nudge in their heads, you know, to make them go with it. That way I won't be the reason you're found out, I can actually protect you in the way I do best without fear of being discovered, and I get to watch them all clutch their pearls and fume as I take a seat at court. And you know, then I won't have to pretend to know how to read, or that I can even pronounce silly human words like ah...is...ithis...ithsmas? Ith-smus? Whatever. You get my point."

The soft sound of Rohaan sucking his teeth gave them the gut reaction of bowing their head conveying shame and a want for being forgiven. Perhaps they had gone a step too far asking their brother to change his eyes. It was just as a way of making sure they could both be safe. Humans didn’t have such culture for certain features, for they had never been persecuted for what they couldn’t control. Not just for being humans. Somehow being powerless allowed them to be at the top of society even though every other species had some sort of abilities of the supernatural. It didn’t make evolutionary sense. They would force species that didn’t look human to look more human. On an evolutionary basis, humans have wanted to evolve to be more like other species that in some cases didn’t need weapons at all and were living weapons. Being a human themselves Vanquiel still didn’t understand what could possibly have decided this sort of fate. On the other hand being a mutated human was always confusing, they didn’t always have abilities and it didn’t affect the way they looked. They were hidden in plain sight. They never had to go through what Rohaan had to. It was idiotic to try and think of themselves as such.

Vequaniel could only sympathise in regards to being hidden away. Their life may have not been ideal but slaughter was only something that they had dished out. It wasn’t a fact of life that their people would be killed. The younger listened intently to the elder wanting to be educated. The darkening tone came with waves of emotions that Vequaniel felt strangling them. They lifted their head to ease their breathing but it accomplished nothing but allowing the emotions to get a better grip of their neck. If there was one thing that they learned before being taken in by Berlin was when to hold their tongue. The human mutate never failed to get emotional when Rohaan talked of his past. It could have been that it brought up such shame when thinking of that day. The day they met Berlin. It was also the immense injustice that Rohaan faced. It was disgusting to think their kind could be so cruel. Humans could be so heartless. Of course Vequaniel knew of it but that didn’t mean they had to wear that on their sleeve. Vequaniel wondered if Rohaan knew or just ignored that they were human. Was Vequaniel the exception to the rule of hating all humans? They didn’t want to know in case it soured the relationship between the siblings. Living a lie wasn’t too hard at least when knowing the stakes. They had attempted to learn the language that was Rohaan’s mother tongue; it was only fair.
The idea of being seen as weak in their brother’s eyes allowed their jaw to clench. They knew that wasn’t exactly what he was implying but the idea of that being true hurt. They knew it was true. Pushing their limits was what they did for the greater good. At least their perceived greater good. Being scolded brought them straight back to their childhood. Their eyes closed as they listened to every word Rohaan said. Every word allowed a memory to spark. A memory that had been pushed to the back of their mind. Rohaan became silent. Vequaniel couldn’t help but wonder about when the hit was coming. Their eyes shot open and a few tears rolled down their cheeks that were quickly wiped away by a handkerchief. It was a relief that Rohaan couldn’t feel their emotions.

As Rohaan explained his plan the grip on their throat was released. They inhaled for the first time without obstruction and smiled. “That sounds like a brilliant plan brother” they exclaimed. Then they fell silent being lost for words. Not knowing what was appropriate to say in the moment. Perhaps it would be better if they stayed silent. Allow Rohaan to talk. His voice was so calming it would hopefully offset their nerves. Although he couldn’t read or write Vanquiel knew that he was smart and wasn’t just a ruffian or a hooligan. He was a multifaceted person who couldn’t be put in one box. They could recognise the skill within him.

There was an amicable silence between them for a moment, broken only by the clatter of wheels grating against the bumpy road and the creak and jingle of the horse's tackle. But then Rohaan turned, peeking through the little curtained opening of the carriage and studying his sibling with luminous eyes. "You're awful quiet...What, are you nervous, or do you not like my plan? C'mon now, you know you wanna watch them eat the floor in frustration as you all sit down for some courtly feast and the notorious Rohaan Ja'aisen sits down among them?" he howled with laughter, real genuine laughter that made his stomach hurt. "Damn I bet they got good whiskey too." Rohaan loved whiskey. He loved all sorts of libations, but whiskey was a personal favorite, second only to good strong ale and rum with a bit of lime.

"Should we practice, V?" he cleared his throat. "Sorry, Princess Andromeda." He seamlessly shifted into a near perfect copy of Lord Girard--a local baron with a portly waist and a puffy mustache. Rohaan had been casing the palace for months, sneaking about in the shape of a cat, a rat, or a bird--whichever suited the moment. He'd snooped on lords and ladies alike, learning the secret things whispered only to their handmaidens and advisers. With Vequaniel's help, they'd compiled a book of dossiers on near everyone of importance in and around the palace. He knew them all.

He combed his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. "My dear lady, tell me about your home country of..ah...erm...I don't know I've ever heard of it. How odd!" Rohaan was, of course, excellent at changing his appearance. But he was also a skilled actor, too, and that usually sold whatever shape he put on.

The younger sibling could swear that Rohaan was the only one who could look straight through them and see their soul. “Rohaan, I am fine I swear” they lied shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. Why were they so nervous? It hadn’t happened before. Usually they were cool and collected in the face of a mission. “I love your plan!” they exclaimed wanting Rohaan to stop talking and laughing. The complete juxtaposition between them was uncanny. “Do you only have the capacity to think of alcohol?” they asked, trying to not sound as unjustifiably pissed as they were. Vanquiel didn’t drink often, when they did they drank to get drunk, completely shit faced. To numb themselves. There wasn’t a way of them mediating themselves so they just decided to not drink. Their mood swings made no sense not even to them.

Practice. That would be nice. If they had the act down they may not be as nervous. They were a natural born actor but before a performance they would always doubt their abilities. “That would be splendid” they chuckled as their aristocratic accent came to the front taking center stage. They were impressed with how stealthy their brother could be, he usually was brash but when it came to this mission he had been very committed and careful. The book had been all that Vequaniel had been reading since they had started to plan this mission, this heist.

“Oh of course Lord Girard” they smiled bowing slightly to their brother who was acting as the local baron. “Galelallan is a beautiful place it is an island near to Eplax, it is ruled by my father King Regulus. It is a country of peace, we haven’t had a part in a war in almost a millenia. Our native language is Acdani though we strive to teach as many languages as possible to our natives so we can welcome as many people as possible” they had created this place with their brother in mind. “Father has told me much about this place and it is wonderfully different to Galelallan.” they hoped that Rohaan would approve their performance.

Rohaan shook his head. "What greater pursuit is there than fine wine and even finer liquor? Or a cool ale at the end of a long, hard day's work? Suppose I'd have to do one of those first--a long day's work, but whatever. Pedanics..." he meant 'pedantics', but he often mixed his words up when speaking his second language. Vequaniel still seemed nervous though, or uneasy, or bothered by something, but he'd pressed once and they hadn't opened up about it, so he let it go. If it was a real problem, it'd come out sooner or later, anyway.

Their use of their new accent made Rohaan remember he now needed to come up with a persona to wear until their plan for getting him into court was solidified and executed. And if they were going to be convincing, they needed similar enough features to be considered of the same people, as well as an accent to match. Of course, variations always existed in class and region, but there needed to be some commonality. It would be useful to establish what Acdani was, and he was already thinking his native Vokurian might work well. For one thing, he'd taught it to Vequaniel and Berlin when he was young, and Rohaan could just about guarantee that no scholar, however dedicated to their art, would know Vokurian. Since the humans spent all their time in the proximity of the Vokurian shapeshifters slaughtering or capturing them, they likely did not spend much time in study. These days, shifters were a rare find, as they purposely settled remote areas humans either couldn't access, like high mountain peaks, or didn't know about, like deep forests and remote, uncharted islands like the one Rohaan came from. That they had a native language at all was probably a surprise to any human.

"Acdani..." he said, shifting seamlessly back to his own shape. "Could be Vokurian, if we ever needed to speak it. Nobody would know it but us. And what's our accent like? I'm trying to sort out my character..." He tried on a few shapes in quick succession, eventually landing on a sturdy, stoic-faced male shape with dark hair and clothes that Rohaan would call gaudy and ridiculous, though for the manservant of a foreign princess, no one would find it strange to see him dressed in a tunic of his kingdom's colors, trimmed with braided silk pauldrons at the shoulders. He even tried a few voices, settling on a deep, resonant baritone with an accent that was similar to Andromeda's, though a little less refined. "How's this, my lady? Or would you prefer a handmaiden?" Rohaan, and most shifters, he explained, were quite comfortable shifting between different gendered shapes. A shape was a shape, and there seemed to be no taboo about the differences in anatomy, either. Rohaan often balked at humans' strange preoccupation with hiding nakedness.

“Brother for the love of Gott” they sighed. Pedanics that was funny. They wouldn’t laugh even though it amused them when their brother mixed up words. They didn’t want to offend their brother because them being nervous didn’t give them a right to be a dick to Rohaan. They took some deep breaths to try and calm their nerves. Well attempted to. The corset didn’t allow much air into their lungs. It had a similar feeling to having someone sat on their lungs constantly. Real problems, well Vequaniel didn’t know whether it was right to say it was a real problem. They hoped Rohaan would just drop it and forget it. It would be a last resort and a break of their moral code to make him forget. But it could be necessary. They shouldn’t think like that they shook their head trying to knock loose those bad thoughts and dispel them.

Vequaniel wished they could be as skilled as Rohaan at quick thinking. Watching Rohaan shapeshift was fascinating. It was magical to see. Why would anyone hate shapeshifters when they are that amazing. Rohaan was right, Vokurian would be perfect. No one would know what they were saying except the two of them. “Wunderbar!” they exclaimed. “Our accent is plummy” they chuckled. It was nicer than saying posh. It was but it didn’t feel right to say posh, more regal. They were grasping at straws. Luckily the internal argument was internal, thought battling it out. It was slightly amusing. It was also a good thing that the people of Galelallan were of all species. Princess Andromeda and the royal family were human. Watching Rohaan shift made them smile. Vequaniel could admit that Rohaan had impeccable taste in form. “That is perfect Rio!” they exclaimed happily.

It was another funny thing for Vequaniel, why did humans sexualise the body and make it such a taboo of nakedness. They had a theory that because of Rohaan’s clothes being organic they would respond to his body shapeshifting. So it would explain why he had the ability to change clothes as well as body. It was a far from perfect hypothesis. “Do you think Father is proud of us?” They asked. Much like a child they seeked their father’s approval. The continued approval of their father was integral. The twenty three year old adjusted their tiara and smiled. “How do I look in my outfit?” they asked. They didn’t have the luxury of being able to change shape at will. It was not their mutation. As a child their family were prided on perfectionism. Of course Vequaniel couldn’t be perfect enough so it left them a perfectionist who seeked approval of those closest to them.