V5 Incline 20: Osibindah Nin

"So I'm not allowed to wear my old clothes...?" I ask this council I've been shoved before. For all my despair, I can only hold on to it and bottle it up. A cruel rule of 'be grateful' otherwise dictating my life right now. At most, all I can do is express myself with a frown. So much as anything will have me shot.

Anything more than the smallest and most timid of expressions and movements will be used against me. I'm barely holding firm against this onslaught of demands from the others of this place so far. Nevermind these people. Even with how pitiful their stares are compared to... Before... It's still unnerving to have to deal with such eyes.

"You are only allowed to wear them when you are not within the boundaries of Suhurlodst Academy of Arcane Learning and Understanding. However, you are also not allowed to leave until you are done with an entirely theoretical exam passing," a well-dressed man explains in an otherwise emotionally devoid tone. All there is to it is a sadistic smile that can't help but emphasise that condition. However. However...

His words aren't even particularly anything unemotive, either. His voice, like all the others, is filled with contempt for what I am. He wasn't even willing to look at me when he spoke, his eyes are both on the tablets before him. It's very subtle, but I can just barely pick up how those dark irises' daggers of his are turning off to the right.

"But why do I have to wear this...? You have just stated this is prisoners' attire!" I say to them as gently as I can while still getting across how angry I am. Much is the same with my actions, gentle and angry over this outfit. Clothes that are tough enough to hold their ground against my strength. Clothes with the magic within to make my power suddenly feel small and barely there...

All I can do is shake the prisoner overalls, a dark, deep blue and clearly marked with bright letters and numbers what I can only assume means 'Dangerous!' or something. Pre-woven with all the metal it needs to chain me up at a moments notice. Each piece rattling with a high-pitched sound that will always catch someone's attention. To say nothing of the banging noise they make against each other.

"Because for all intents and purposes, you are one. One *irrefutably destined* for the executioners drop." another one of the men in front of me points out. A quick chuckle bursts throughout the council and the guards. I flinch, only making it louder. It goes away and I find myself staring at the contents of my claws.

A sigh forces my mouth open, and I stare intently at the dark blue outfit. It feels so wrong to look at this. I want to get home so badly, and here I am, holding overalls that are so similar to my old work overalls back home. What I even wore when I first came to Jherikra. What is a man's proof of hard work, oil spills and metal shavings staining his clothes...

Here, in this land, atop a mountain with a city called Thrurstradtur, and another called Suhurlodst... It's attire meant for a man destined to die.

No, not in their eyes. As they see it right now, it's nothing more than proof I'm a monster. Proof that I'm an abomination. Both I am both and through... And through no fault of my own. I'm an osibindah.

"When am I going to have to put it on?" I ask rather pointlessly as if I haven't been stripped bare of my previous outfit. They tore it all off and unceremoniously dumped it in a basket or something. They wanted the whole school to see what I am to my core. They even took what Motrtha gave me, and if they plan to destroy it then...

"Now, and be quick about it," the last man to speak says, the council adjourning their session then and there. They all begin to leave, only a handful of soldiers remaining. All with their guns up and at the ready.

Go on, Nin, give them a reason. Give them any reason at all and they'll fire. They'll fill you with holes and intentionally miss. Scathe you clean of your skin and torture you with crude aim...

My snout twitches, and I unbutton the overalls, the reinforced material resisting at every turn. A problem my poor excuse for hand replacements make worse. I'm making so many mistakes without them as is and they're making things worse. Mistakes I've never made before at all are cropping up with a familiarity that is terrifying to behold. Childish embarrassment that I should not have at all and...

I don't know what to do.

I can hear their contempt with every second my carapace is exposed. And it's not going away at all with each bit of cloth I manage to drag up my body, its usual slipperiness not there at all. I'm rushing where I don't need to and I'm having to force my body through the clothes just to tear them into a comfortable state.

These overalls are not designed for my body, and they're digging in so much to prove that point...

"N-Now what?" I ask, done putting it all on and getting over the initial stings and pinches.

"You save us the trouble and use this to kill your-"

"We take you to your dorm." a clearly higher-ranked guard interrupts before the other can finish. Though he makes no point of reprimanding his inferior as he finishes speaking in a malicious, under the breath tone. I've no trouble believing, however, that he only chose to interrupt when the sentence was nearly done. Still, all I can do is nod in understanding, and he gets moving to the door.

A guard thrusts ahead, his weapon hitting my back and sending me crashing forward. I smack against the door, another shove coming to me as the laughter develops. I find my footing and hurry ahead, keeping my eyes on them with wide eyes as some pop their lips. I turn to the doors ahead, trying my hardest to focus on and-

So much noise screams on through the door.

"DIE OSIBINDAH!"

"KILL IT!"

"KILL THAT MONSTER!"

My expression somehow settles even lower than it has before, and I sigh...