((ooc: Continued for Calley from A Cthulhu Christmas.))

It was Christmas morning, and Guingalet was not a happy horse.

Outside his impromptu gardening shed stable, the sun was dawning white through an overcast sky. Last night’s Cthulhu-watering showers had turned into bleak holiday skies. The black stallion stomped a sore hoof.

New York’s pavement: he understood now why horses needed horseshoes. His poor, poor feet had cracks starting in them, and rocks stuck everywhere they shouldn’t. It was the sort of thing you don’t notice in the heat of the kerosene-carting, Elder God-fighting moment. Not until you’ve safely fled back to your personal manger. Not until you sleep standing up.

The horse cast a forlorn look at itself, in the dusty mirror hung on the shed’s wall. His proud black fur was streaked with mud, and littered with bits and pieces of a city bus. This proved to him, once and for all, that cats were superior to horses: a cat was built for keeping itself clean. A horse? He didn’t even know how to start. Rolling in a puddle, perhaps? His withers gave a shuddering twitch. This form was simply... unhygienic. Calley wanted a shower. No: a bath. No—a tongue bath. That would be simply divine. First, though, he had to—

Click.

Click?

The stallion’s ears flicked to attention.

It wasn’t a sound from outside. It wasn’t even a sound, per se, at all. It was more of a reset switch, flipping in his mind. Since he was thirteen, click had meant one glorious thing: he could shift again. Four days of this heavy-hooved quadruped: four days, having to submit to that lizard boy caring for him, little children shoving hay at him, Knights gallivanting off on him—

Okay, so that last part had been rather epic. Sore hooves aside.

Still, the point remained:

Where a mud-caked stallion had been, a nineteen year old boy suddenly stood. Or, rather, a nineteen year old boy was suddenly falling over. He landed most unpleasantly on his front, and rolled over onto his back, spread-eagle, with a silly grin plastered on his dirty face.

Guingalet was a human again.

Whoot.

Maya woke up with the nagging feeling you get when a distant corner of your brain knows something you completely forgot about. It's an annoying thing, especially on a Christmas morning, which is complete crap, even if Chtulhu's dead and your ribs are healed.
What idiot spends Christmas in a friggin' school anyway?...

Rolling onto her back, Maya wondered lazily what she could have possibly forgotten. There were not many things to remember to begin with. She had her backpack, had her music, all packed and neat, ready to bail if...
Holy Mary mother of ****.

Sir Gawain. You forgot about your friggin' steed.

Walking across the Mansion fields a full two mintues later, Maya puffed angry little clouds of warm mist. Unbe - f***ing - lievable. How could she possibly forgot about that poor beast?...
Not like it was her responsibility. Who kept a horse in a school anyway? A mutant school none the less. Whoever it was he'd better have taken care of poor Guingalet before Animal Control got to him. Or else.

Arriving to the shed, she cracked the door open, half hoping she'd find Guingalet safe and sound, and half praying the first thing to greet her would not be a hoof in her stomach. Because, kinda, sorta, she would deserve that.
What she did not expect was exactly what she found.
Look, it's a Christmas miracle!

Leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded, Maya gave the person on the ground a good once over before she stopped grinning and spoke up.

"Sooo, when that angel told me I'd find a boy in a manger, this was not quite what I was expectin'. Maybe I got the wrong address... Are ya all right there, kid?"

The door cracked open. For a moment, the face highlighted in the white morning light seemed familiar. Calley started to raise a lazy, waving hand to it.

Then he realized the face had breasts. (Below the face. There were breasts.)

And he was very, very naked. (They were feminine breasts, as breasts went.)

Calley skittered for cover. The last time this had happened in the Mansion, he’d grabbed a pillow for tastefully scanty concealment until he could scrounge up clothes. This was not such an easy thing, in a garden shed. There were rakes. Shovels. Shears.

Was that a once over? Was she giving him a—she was!

>> "Sooo, when that angel told me I'd find a boy in a manger, this was not quite what I was expectin'. Maybe I got the wrong address... Are ya all right there, kid?"

Calley put a stop to the undignified search for non-dangerous cover-ups, and settled for some awkwardly grinning standing. Facing forward. Because she was the one with the eyes and the roaming and the he-felt-a-little-violated. Contrary to popular Mansion rumor, Calley did still have his modesty. Walking around naked was not his preferred state. In human form, anyway.

“I,” he declared with all due rosy-cheeked confidence, “am slightly chilly. Spare a coat for a poor naked soul?” He’d prefer her pants, but the ladies: they tended to take that the wrong way. And really, who asked for someone’s pants?

>>“I, am slightly chilly. Spare a coat for a poor naked soul?”

"Well, it fits the story I s'pose." Maya's grin grew even wider as she peeled off her jacket and tossed it at the kid; a moment later her warm sweatshirt followed, she was still wearing two layers uner that, and damn it was cold in the shed.

"Rough night, huh?" she chuckled, leaning against the doorframe again, waiting for him to wrap himself into some decency "C'mon let's go inside before ya catch your death out here. The hell were ya thinkin', sleepin off the buzz in the shed anyway? It's a friggin' freezer."

Opening the door so he could walk out, Maya arched an eyebrow at the boy. In a friendly manner. She really didn't care for naked guys at all.
But she sure as heck wanted to know what kind of wild party she'd missed because of Chtulhu.
Also. Where the heck is Guingalet?...

"Ya didn't happen to notice a big black horse wanderin' around here, did ya?..."

Coat, whoot! And sweatshirt, too. Calley caught them with a thank you door angel grin.

>> "Rough night, huh?"

“You could say that,” the older teen replied, his blue eyes awkwardly searching for a way to put these on that covered things, but didn’t—errhm—well, they were a girl’s clothes. And a girl might not appreciate the thought that her clothes had been brushing up against a random guy’s... You see, there are certain anatomical differences between...

Bleh. She could wash the cooties off he sweatshirt later. He wrapped it around his waist in an impromptu kilt, and put the coat on more traditionally. There: he was both decently clad and no longer freezing. As much.

>> "C'mon let's go inside before ya catch your death out here. The hell were ya thinkin', sleepin off the buzz in the shed anyway? It's a friggin' freezer."

“Ooooh, you are telling me.” He hopped from foot to foot, wincing in preparation for the barefoot trek across the Mansion’s frozen grounds.

>> "Ya didn't happen to notice a big black horse wanderin' around here, did ya?..."

The teen upped the ante to a snort and an amused grin. “Guingalet? You just missed him. Said he was stepping out for a bit. Care to leave a message?” Oookay, that dead grass was exactly as cold as it looked. “Furthermore: race you!”

Guingalet set off at a galloping bipedal gait (one hand modestly keeping his kilt closed).

>>“Guingalet? You just missed him. Said he was stepping out for a bit. Care to leave a message?”

"Yeah, Guin..." Maya stopped mid-sentence and blinked, eyes narrowing as she stared at the boy. Waaaaait a minute. Even if he was a myth buff like Mirror, he had to know about Gawain to make that reference...
"Hey! How the he..."

>>“Furthermore: race you!”

And off he ran, in a very strange galloping way, which probably had something to do with his borrowed attire. Maya shook her head and bolted after him.
He'd better not be a friggin' telepath. She didn't want people in her head.

It was a close race, from the shed to the Mansion door; still, kilt or no kilt, the boy maaged to arrive first. Maya hit the closed door a few seconds later, panting, cold air burning her lungs.

"Ya had a headstart." she protested as they walked inside "Just for the record."

“I am a total cheat,” Calley replied with a grin, “just for the record.

Inside, it was ever so toasty warm. Even the wood floors in the entryway, usually a little chilly, were delightfully warm in comparison with the ground outside. The painful frost wore off of his feet as he pranced over to the stairs. Stairs: they had carpet running up them. He paused a moment, wiggling his toes into its warmth. Mmm.

“Thanks for the save,” he said, looking back to the coatless, sweatshirt-less girl. “That run’s a lot less pleasant sans covering.” Not that he would know. That would just be, err, silly of him. To get caught without clothing. Repeatedly.

He tilted his head, looking at her face. “Do you have a brother here? ‘Cause I think I’ve met him.” And Sir Gawain had certainly met Guingalet. Welcome to Xavier’s Sister School for Gifted and Talented Re-Introductions.

>>“I am a total cheat. Just for the record."

Maya snorted. Yeah. That too.

>>“Do you have a brother here? ‘Cause I think I’ve met him.”

"Yeah actually I do" Maya answered with a grin before she even thought about it. How many kids knew about her/him already?... Way too many. "... kinda. Sorta... I mean..." she rolled her eyes and sighed in defeat "Nah, not really, 'tis jus' me."

She looked at the boy's face once again, now that he was closer, and, well, less naked. She kind of remembered him all right.

"Were you at Maya's wedding?..." shaking her head, she smirked "Never mind, go get decent, I'll wait for ya in the diner."

>> "Yeah actually I do... kinda. Sorta... I mean... Nah, not really, 'tis jus' me."

Blink. Well, that explained the resemblance. "Human shifter, huh? That's cool." Though he'd never heard of a human shifter that didn't completely change, when they shifted. Wasn't the whole point of that mutation to be unrecognizable? Maybe she/he/it'd just copied twins. Among other forms, of course. A shifter of Calley's persuasion couldn't imagine that things would be more limited than that.

>> "Were you at Maya's wedding?... Never mind, go get decent, I'll wait for ya in the diner."

The teen popped a smart salute. "As you command, oh Master." Spoken like a true loyal steed, if he did say so himself. Not like those will-run-away-mid-battle kinds. Heh. Yeah...

Dressing was accomplished following a run up the stairs, and a brief consideration: which room where his clothes in, again? Not Katrina's; that would just be weird. Not Ghost (...and her husband)'s. Maybe Cafas'? But the other teen would probably be sleeping, now. Especially after his own Cthulhu run-in last night. He opted for checking his own actual, legitimate, filled-out-paperwork-for-it-and-everything room first. Score: he'd wisely stored a pair of khaki pants on the floor, and a white T-shirt under the bed. He dug boxers out, too, but they were somewhat olfactorially questionable. With high assumptions that she wouldn't be seeing inside his pants twice today, Calley came back down the stairs, her own borrowed clothes neatly folded. He was carrying them with both hands as he entered the room, creating a solemn one-man procession of the utmost dignity.

"My lady," he intoned, presenting the tidy pile to her, with a half-bow, "I return to you: your clothing. You have my thanks, eternally."

That aside, he started rummaging for breakfast. Something easy. Something that didn't require actual cooking. Over his shoulder, he asked, "Do you still go by Gawain when you look like that, or do you have a different name for each form?"

"I'm Calley in this one," he helpfully added. "Which is a pretty good default, any time you see me. Since it's kind of my real name, I guess." There appeared to be cereal on that top shelf. And not just any cereal, mind you: rice krispies. Calley wasn't the tallest boy in the world. Fortunately, he wasn't the most dignified, either: he hopped up on the counter, and claimed his prize. "Errhm, you want anything while I'm up here?"

>>"Human shifter, huh? That's cool."

Maya raised an eyebrow. Damn right 'human shifter'. Why, what other...
Oh.
...
OH.

>>"As you command, oh Master."

As the boy skipped up the stairs, Maya stood at the bottom, blinking away, as the pieces finally clicked together in her head. Guingalet, a boy in the shed, shifting...
Well I'll be damned.

She waited for him to return, hopefully better dressed, sitting on top of the kitchen counter, dangling her legs. She was getting really curious now.

>>"My lady, I return to you: your clothing. You have my thanks, eternally."

"Ya're eternally welcome" Maya nodded with a grin, taking her clothes and tossing them on a chair. Gawain might be a knight to boot, but Maya sure as hell was not a lady. Still, she found the kid's bow very amusing.

>>"Do you still go by Gawain when you look like that, or do you have a different name for each form?"

She shook her head. "Maya. This... er, form's called Maya."

>>"I'm Calley in this one. Which is a pretty good default, any time you see me. Since it's kind of my real name, I guess."

"Nice to meet ya, Calley" she chuckled "So ya only go by Guingalet when ya're a horse?... What else can ya shift into?..."

>>"Errhm, you want anything while I'm up here?"

"Cereal's good" Maya nodded as she took bowls and spoons from a cupboard, and moved over to the kitchen table. "So... anyway, how did ya get home last night?..."

He handed the cereal box down to the elegantly perched countertop lady, and took a step over to the next cabinet. Two bowls got rescued from the lightless confinement: he hopped back to the kitchen floor, their proud savior, and tucked them under one arm before officially offering her his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you whilst wearing fully functional vocal chords, Miss Maya," he said, with a grin.

Next: to the fridge! There was milk to be had. He pulled out the half-empty carton, and dropped it on the counter. The bowls followed. He held out his hand for the cereal box, like a surgeon asking for a scalpel. Assuming she turned it over, there would be pouring afoot.

"Mmm, I can pretty much turn into everything. Animal-kingdom-wise. Not so much on the bipedal primates, though." He flashed another grin. "That would be your turf, I gather." Milk followed, into his own bowl. He hopped back up to sit on the counter, handing the lady her own breakfast: the milk sat between them, so she could pour as she wished. To each their own white water line.

"So what do you normally look like? I mean, this is me," he motioned with his distinctly spoonless hand to himself, then nodded towards her. "Is that you, or just what you put on this morning? What's that like, copying people?"

On the issue of spoons: he leaned forward, and opened the drawer between his dangling legs. Two were rescued, and one passed her way. Thus did the feeding begin.

>>"Pleasure to meet you whilst wearing fully functional vocal chords, Miss Maya,"

Maya snickered as she shook the hoof-turned-hand. "Pleasure's all mine."
Breakfast was prepared in a quick and effective manner; Maya decided knights of the olden days did not know what they were missing out without steeds who could prepare and serve breakfast. What a nice combo.
Perched on top of the counter, she clinked her bowl against his before she picked up the spoon to stir.

>>"Mmm, I can pretty much turn into everything. Animal-kingdom-wise. Not so much on the bipedal primates, though. That would be your turf, I gather. So what do you normally look like? I mean, this is me. Is that you, or just what you put on this morning? What's that like, copying people?"

"Nah, 'tis all me" she smirked at him "I don't do the shiftin', it more like just happens to me. Daily." she tried to explain, wrinkling her nose "An' I only change gender. Pretty much everythin' else is original. So ya only get Maya, or Gawain. Not nearly as awesome as changin' into animals."

Taking a spoonful of cereals, Maya took a moment to dwell on the opportunities of animal shifting. "Can ya do mythical creatures too?..."

Bowls were clicked with courtly formality, and the breaking of their fast did begin. His own fast was broken with crunchy spoonfuls, as he listened to her mutation with a quizzical ear.

>> "Nah, 'tis all me. I don't do the shiftin', it more like just happens to me. Daily. An' I only change gender. Pretty much everythin' else is original. So ya only get Maya, or Gawain. Not nearly as awesome as changin' into animals."

"Ahh," he said. "A double-shifter, huh? I guess that makes sense. I know plenty of animal shifters that only have two forms. Makes sense that some of you human-shifters are the same way." He nodded, his internal logic satisfied. "I tend to shift daily, too. 'Specially at night, and 'specially if I'm wearing my human form. It's kind of unstable, I guess. I usually wake up as a cat, or one or my more practiced forms." He gave another nod, clearly sympathetic to the plight of a fellow wakes-up-as-something-else shifter. That Gawain/Mirror always made that shift, and that he/she couldn't control it the rest of the time, didn't cross his mind.

>> "Can ya do mythical creatures too?..."

"Can, and do." He gave a sheepish grin over his bowl. "Though I don't do them like the real mythics-shifters can. I kind of mix-and-match normal animals, until I get something close. Doesn't work so well: my manticore is mostly porcupines and turtles, and my griffin can't really fly." The grin turned impish. "I put a little electric eel in him, though. Myth meets Pokemon."

He crunched his way through another spoonful, then blinked baby blue eyes over at her. "So how do you use your mutation? I've pretty much gone the spy route, myself." He drowned a piece of cereal under his milky ocean, with an impish grin. "Not that it's too hard. The Factions are pretty terrible about keeping spies out. I mean, I confessed to being a spy, mauled an X-Men, joined the Order, and then got personally invited by the X-Leader to come back here. In the same week, mind you." He lifted his bowl to his lips, and took a hearty sip. Mmm, Mansion-sponsored breakfast. Really, it wasn't that Calley was being cocky, or terrible at his chosen proffession: it was just that he needed a challenge. Badly. Maybe announcing himself with neon letters would help with that. Not that it would really even make a difference: it was hard for people to be paranoid of every animal (and animal shifter, and animal-esk mutant) that they came across. Therein lay his strength. Therein lay the reason he was a very, very bored spy.

"What d'you like to do with yours?"

>>"A double-shifter, huh? I guess that makes sense. I know plenty of animal shifters that only have two forms. Makes sense that some of you human-shifters are the same way."

Double-shifter. Maya had never really thought about it that way. Growing up under the motherly supervision of a full shapeshifter she just kind of assumed there was 'real' shifting and... 'messed up' shifting, like herself/himself. It never really occurred to her it could be a different kind on its own. Which lead to the question she had been trying to not think about ever since she was a kid: will it ever be possible to control the shifting?...
"Interestin'." she muttered, mostly to herself.

>>"Can, and do. Though I don't do them like the real mythics-shifters can. I kind of mix-and-match normal animals, until I get something close. Doesn't work so well: my manticore is mostly porcupines and turtles, and my griffin can't really fly. I put a little electric eel in him, though. Myth meets Pokemon."

Maya grinned. "More like Dr. Frankenstein meets Animal Planet." she chuckled "But it's still awesome. Besides, if ya can turn into Guingalet, ya've pretty much got the badass part of legends and lore covered."

She listened with mild surprise as Calley talked about being a spy, and a couple of things she didn't really understand.
"Factions?..." she would have t store that information for later. It sounded interesting. So the X-kids were not the only team in town, huh. Made sense.

>>"... What d'you like to do with yours?"

Maya shrugged. "I wouldn' make a good spy, I've only got two faces and I need one o' them for an alibi." she chuckled "Shiftin's not much of an ability if ya can't control it. Mirrorwalkin', on the other hand..." she grinned "... is great for sneakin' around. And... shopping." she added. It being the proper term for walking into stores and walking out with something fancy and new. Acquired for a very reasonable price. Nothing.

>> "I wouldn' make a good spy, I've only got two faces and I need one o' them for an alibi. Shiftin's not much of an ability if ya can't control it. Mirrorwalkin', on the other hand... is great for sneakin' around. And... shopping."

“Ooo,” Calley said, thoroughly impressed over his crispies. “Mirrorwalking? I’ve never heard that one, before. How’s it work?” His legs hung over the counter, kicking idly now and then as he ate.

“Question! Who is this Guingalet? I feel I need must be properly versed, now that I am he.” Calley was running out of cereal. He sipped at his milk while he waited for story time to begin.

PS: Shopping. He occasionally did some of that, that. Not as much as he could, though: most of his forms didn’t much need to be ‘shopped’ for. He was much more prone to simple house-sitting, personally. Lap-sitting and purring optional.