How long can you keep up the walls?
The New Guardians' home was big enough that Heather had been afforded a room to use for her art projects, something that she threw herself into whenever possible in order to distract herself from the mess that her life had become.
She liked her new friends, certainly. She hadn't had many before, being too introverted for her own good. And they were good people, but none of them had changed as drastically as she had. As supportive as they had been, they couldn't understand, not really.
The little moments that filled up a person's day, things like eating, brushing their teeth, using the toilet... She didn't do any of those little things anymore. Her sense of smell and taste was gone, or nearly so. Her sense of touch diminished, different. Everything that had been flesh replaced by sapphire crystal. Even her hair wasn't really hair, but some kind of finely spun crystal too. No internal organs, not if it had been believed when she'd been blasted on the Manhunter world. Crystal has slowly regrown itself, repairing what damage had been done. She didn't even breathe, though she somehow was able to still talk (how, she had no idea. She was an art major, no a biologist. Though what she probably really needed to be right now was a mineralogist.).
But the one thing she did enjoy... was her ability to spin crystal. She'd always poured her heart and soul into her art, made love to the clay, as they said, but now... now it was the purest extension of herself that it could possibly be. Every thought made into violet crystal, crystal which moved and responded to her very thoughts.
She moved her fingers slightly as she willed the crystal into being, one of a series of sculptures. The last of seven. A bull, a snake, a bug, a whale, a bird, a cephalopod, and now, some kind of predatory animal rounding out the set, each intertwined with a human figure in some fashion. A barbarian slaughtering the bull, a fat man grasping the snake, a skeleton with the bug on its head, a man like a green statue with the whale obscuring his manhood, a nun bowed in prayer under the bird's wingspan, a tribal looking woman cradling the cephalopod, and an amazonian woman fearful in the beast's grasp.
"...Face it, Heather," she said to herself, "you put these in that show Cindy's getting you, and people will call you one of those mad artists."
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