“Like our guild itself, this locket can stand for many things. You must discern what it means for you.”
—Vannifar
It was a typical day on Ravnica. Sunbeams danced between the vast spires and elevated bridges of the world-city, illuminating the goings-on of countless beings as they lived their myriad lives. From humble goblin street food vendors to angelic protectors, everybody had a place in keeping Ravnica alive and thriving.
Othi, though, wasn’t a typical Ravnican. Then again, who was? Still, she liked to think she stood out from the norm, if not just with her uncommon values, but simply by virtue of being a centaur who had opted to join the Simic. Most of her people tended to end up with the Selesnyans or Gruul, if they chose to be part of a guild at all.
Still, Othi had decided, years ago, that this was her calling, and was now cantering over to her humble laboratory near the entrance to Zonot Two, one of the massive sinkholes that had opened up to the vast underground sea where the merfolk lived. The closer she got, the more the architecture changed, from typical brick and mortar to the more flowing, organic curves, domes, and spirals of her guild in glass, coral, and chitin.
Soon, Othi arrived, passing through her lab’s entrance aperture. It was a tiny thing, barely larger than her apartment, with only three modification pods and not even a single breeding pool or ooze vat. That was par for the course when you only had the bare minimum of guild funding. Still, her work didn’t require much at all compared to what the more experienced and zealous Simic in the deeper levels were up to.
She put on her protective coat over her blue blouse - a surprisingly comfortable garment made of living fungus that ate up anything that spilled on it - and began running diagnostics and upkeep on her magitech equipment while she waited for patients. It was a familiar routine, only broken up by the sound of the occasional small experiment flying by outside the back window.
Eventually, the sound of tentative footsteps, and the soft splorch of the door opening, pulled Othi out of her near-trance and into service mode. Putting on a smile, she brushed her short, light hair back and dropped the glue slug she’d been using back into its enclosure before turning to face her visitor.
They were a lanky human, fairly young. Barely a teenager, by her estimation, though it was hard to discern age or gender with all the dirt caked into their clothes, hair, and skin. So much dirt, in fact, that Othi guessed they hadn’t bathed in, well, ever. The human approached her with clear uncertainty and some exhaustion, stopping a fair distance away.
“Hello there, young one,” Othi said, cutting the awkward silence. “What brings you to my little corner of the Zonot?”
Standing firmly in place, the human tentatively asked “Are you Othi? The biomancer they say is the least crazy on Ravnica?”
Othi giggled at that. “It seems my reputation precedes me. Yeah, I’m Othi. What’s your name?”
“Egg,” they answered, cheeks slightly colored beneath all the grime.
Othi’s brow rose, her tail flicking behind her. “That’s an odd name. Even for the undercity, which where I take it you’re from, yes?”
Egg nodded, unsurprised. “I’m an orphan. My adoptive mother is kraul. She and the others call me that because I’m soft and squishy, not like them,” they said, with much disdain.
“Well, that makes sense, I suppose,” Othi admitted. When everybody else around you was a tough, sharp, giant insect, the comparison was apt. Still, she figured they didn’t want to waste time with pleasantries or pity, and moved on. “So, Egg, I take it you have some idea of what I do here, since you came all this way?”
Another nod. “Y-Yes. Is it true? Can you really… change someone’s sex?”
Expression softening, Othi walked over to rest a comforting hand on Egg’s shoulder. “Of course. That’s what I do; help people step into the body that matches their heart. Transition to the gender they know they are.”
“Then, can you make me a boy? Please?” Egg asked, looking up at her with hope and determination. Then the words started cascading past his lips. “I just know I’m supposed to be male, because I’ve felt this wrongness my whole life. But whenever I brought it up, the other kraul would all say it’s stupid. ‘Males are inferior, just drones for breeding. It’s the females who get all the real work done, so why are you complaining?’ I’d point to Mazirek, but even my mother brushed it off, kept insisting he was the exception.”
“And yet you ignored them and climbed all the way here by yourself,” Othi pointed out, proud.
“Yeah. I’m done hiding who I really am!” Egg declared. “I don’t care what it takes, even if I end up with fins or claws, Othi, I need this, more than anything.”
Her smile widened as she stepped back to face him. “Of course I’ll help you, Egg. And you won’t get tentacles, I promise. Heck, I’m not even registered with the Guardian Project, so that sort of mutation would be unauthorized,” she elaborated.
“Really? Oh, thank you so much!” He bounced in place, positively thrilled.
Egg’s enthusiasm was contagious. “You’re most welcome; it’s what I do. Let’s get started!”
With that, Othi got to work. Egg unceremoniously stripped down, and Othi hosed him off in the corner. Then, she unsealed the cap on one of her ovoid pods, gesturing to the climbable ridges on the side. “Here, just hop into the bioplasm. You’ll be fine, it puts you to sleep for the whole process. And this is a relatively simple transformation, so it typically only takes a few hours.”
Not bothering to ask any more questions, eager and prepared as he was, Egg did so. Othi sealed the cap behind him, leaving him suspended in the viscous, oxygenated fluid. Making eye contact with the boy in spirit - soon to be boy in body - through the transparent membrane, Othi channeled her magic. Once the activation spell was prepared properly, she cast it, swirls of turquoise energy emanating from her hand and into the pod, which hummed to life. She smiled with purest satisfaction as the bioplasm began to glow, Egg’s eyes peacefully closing.
For Othi, this was what it was all about, her calling. Not engineering soldiers for some mysterious future conflict, or preserving the cycle of the ecosystem as a whole, but the joy of the individual. Making sure all sentient creatures were the best, most true version of themselves. And that drive, more than anything, was what made a member of the Simic guild.
And then the moment was completely ruined when a 12-foot cyclops burst into her lab like a wrecking ball, nearly obliterating dozens of critical instruments. “UNBAROB HERE.”
Nearly tripping over her own hooves in shock, Othi let out a high-pitched scream, the chain of her locket clattering against her chest. She scrambled to shelter said instruments, especially the pod Egg was in. Once she’d confirmed nothing was badly damaged, she turned to glare at Unbarob, her heart racing. Being no warrior or battlemage, she’d have to signal for help if things escalated.
At least, that’s what she thought at first, but upon closer examination that might not be necessary. The cyclops, Unbarob, was clearly Gruul, going by the red tribal tattoos lining their arms and the dress made from the hide of some hairy beast, yet the rest of Othi’s stuff remained miraculously intact. Unbarob just stood there, sole eye unblinking.
“UNBAROB NO MEAN TO STARTLE, SORRY,” they bellowed. “AM HERE FOR CENTAUR’S SERVICES.”
It took Othi a second to process this. Once she did, the tension bled out of her, and she sighed in relief. “Oh, you’re just here for a procedure. I, uh, accept your apology. My bad.”
Unbarob grinned, showing rows of pointy teeth. “UNBAROB USED TO IT. WILL OTHI ASSIST?”
Calming back down, she returned the grin, which was only ever so slightly forced. Othi had seen sharktocrabs less menacing than this cyclops. Still, that was no reason to decline. “I don’t see why not.”
“GOOD.” Unbarob sat down, legs crossed, to get more comfortable, the rhino-skull helmet on their head having nearly been jabbing into the ceiling. “UNBAROB SELF-IDENTIFY AS FEMALE. HAS ALWAYS BEEN CREATIVE SOUL, PREFERS MAKING JEWELRY OF BONES AND ENTRAILS TO HUNTING AND FIGHTING. UNBAROB WILL STILL SMASH PRODUCTS OF CIVILIZATION TO BITS WITH OTHER GRUUL WHENEVER RIOT STARTS, THOUGH.”
She’d ignore the part about destroying fundamental infrastructure, for the sake of remaining cordial. Unbarob seemed to be a decent enough soul otherwise, and Othi tried hard not to discriminate against others. Even those pricks in the Orzhov who had zero qualms about putting the already downtrodden so deep in debt that they had to literally sell their immortal souls into slavery, abhorrently perpetuating the wealth gap and—
Wait, what had she been doing again? Oh, yeah, Unbarob’s transition. Othi cleared her throat. “R-Right. I’m happy to see you’ve embraced your inner nature! Assuming you’re already informed, I can begin the procedure whenever you’re ready. You make a lovely girl.”
“UNBAROB FLATTERED OTHI THINK SO,” she said, beaming. Never in Niv-Mizzet’s lifetime would Othi have thought she’d witness a cyclops blush adorably like that. “WANT TO GET STARTED WITH MAGIC GOO NOW, SO CAN SURPRISE BOYFRIEND WHEN MEET FOR DINNER AT FIRE PIT. HE VIASHINO SHAMAN, VERY SUPPORTIVE.”
“Sounds great. If you could just…” Othi trailed off when she realized something fairly critical. Glancing behind herself, then at Unbarob, and finally over her shoulder again, it was obvious that Unbarob wouldn’t fit inside either of her remaining pods. The ones she had were only cleared for average-sized humanoids, as all the larger ones got snapped up by the clades for their krasis engineering.
Othi scratched the back of her head apologetically. “Actually, it might be a while before we can start. You’re kinda, erm, large.” As Unbarob frowned down at her, Othi’s hand moved to her chin. Actually, compared to learning to spellcast in the first place, this was a challenge she could tackle easily. “Don’t worry, I can probably get things running with a bit of finagling, though. If I graft both pods together… yes that’d work, at least temporarily, before the tissues get a chance to reject eachother. Are you okay with waiting a little while?” she asked.
After stomping over to poke the pods and confirm their size (having no depth perception and all) Unbarob let out an exhale with the force of a gust, somewhat disappointed. “UNBAROB WILL WAIT. IS STILL WORTH.”
As her latest charge sat back down, displaying surprising patience, Othi got to work, losing herself in the flow of progress. A stasis spell here, a careful incision there, some pumping of fluids, a smidge of forced cellular regeneration, the time zipped by. In fact, by the time everything had been configured and Unbarob’s outwards metamorphosis was underway, Egg was just about finished.
Othi got ready to extract him, magically directing one of the coiled-up appendages on the ceiling to unwind. Once the pod started gurgling and strobing with luminescence to indicate completion, she unsealed it and used the multipurpose tentacle to pull Egg out and suck the excess bioplasm off of his updated body before setting him down gently, the boy beginning to stir.
She watched with her hands clasped together as he woke, mumbling and rubbing his eyes. “Mmm, where...?”
A cursory examination painted the procedure a success, Othi was glad to note. It wasn’t just that Egg’s gonads had been inverted properly, there were other less pronounced changes too, namely slightly wider shoulders and slightly narrower hips.
Soon, Egg had recovered his wits and composure both, recognition dawning. Though trepidation dominated his face, his movements as he adjusted were already less ungainly, more natural, by her reckoning.
With bated breath, he made for the window. However, anticipating his action, Othi reached out a hand to stop Egg from exposing himself, grabbing a nearby turtle shell hand mirror with the ceiling tentacle and placing it in his path.
Meeting his reflection, Egg froze. After a long pause, dumbstruck awe written on his face, he teared up.
Then, joyful laughter escaped him, and Egg examined every inch of himself, stretching and bending. “It worked! This is perfect! I feel like… me. Why, with my head and body finally matched up, I think I could even wrestle a croc into the muck! An undead croc, even!”
Othi snorted in amusement. “Let’s not get carried away now. I’m sure your mother would be very upset if you ended up getting eaten. Still, you certainly seem satisfied, Egg.”
Here, he shook his head. “I never liked that name. And now it fits even less. I’m free from that burden, free to truly live now.” Placing his hands on his hips, he continued. “A new underdweller needs a new name. I used to be Egg, but now I’m… Nymph. Yeah, Nymph. I’m Nymph!” With this proclamation, he practically glowed.
“I’m happy for you, Nymph,” Othi said, meaning every word. Yet shared excitement was no excuse not to be thorough in her duties. “So, how do you feel? Any discomfort? Stiff joints?”
Nymph mulled this over as he walked back over to throw his detritus-laden clothes on. “Not physically, Miss Othi. It’s just… well, Mom will get used to it - she wouldn’t have taken me in to begin with if she couldn’t look past stuff like this - but I’m not sure my friends will approve. What if they start making fun of me?”
Othi could sympathize. She’d been plagued by the unfounded anxiety that she’d drift away from her own friends when she joined the Combine. But that was no way to think. “If they don’t accept you for who you are, then they weren't your real friends to begin with,” she declared.
After a beat, more concrete worries bubbling up, she added “That, or they were infected by one of the sixteen known species of brain parasite native to that biome. Or the Dimir had them replaced.”
Nymph blinked, his smile drooping a bit. “Thanks for the encouragement? Now I’m pretty unsettled by something completely different.”
Othi nudged his side playfully. “Then my work here is done. You can put your dysphoria behind you.”
Nymph could only chuckle at that. “I guess so. Thank you so much, Othi!”
“It was my pleasure. Be sure to spread the word about my lab if anyone in need asks!”
“Oh, definitely,” he confirmed. “I’d love to chat a bit longer, but I also really want to head back down, share the great news. It’s also way too bright up here.”
“Understandable,” Othi said, clip-clopping a few steps away. “You want anything to eat before you go? I was about to take a late lunch myself. Seaweed salad.”
His face scrunched up in confusion. “Never had that before. Think I’ll just cook a rat or something on the way. But thanks again.”
“Again, you’re most welcome.” In her eyes, folks like him always were. Nevertheless, most had their own busy lives elsewhere in the world-city. So, Othi waved goodbye. “Take care, Nymph.”
“I will! Bye!”
And Nymph was off, dashing with renewed energy out the door. He was so overwhelmed that he hadn’t even noticed Unbarob once the whole time, Othi realized with a grin. Sighing with satisfaction, she set about to eat, already fulfilled in a way no meal could.
Another life, forever validated by her humble hand. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
That was a nice read, thank you.
Glad you enjoyed it!