"You destroyed the zombie of your daughter's corpse, talked with Simone's future divine self... and now pregnant with the reincarnated souls of the two people it killed... and now their statues in spite of not having souls are moving about on their own for no real reason you can determine other than the rain having something to do with it, even though things that WEREN'T touched by the rain, like the statues in your house, were affected anyway?" Curt asked, bewildered.
"Yes Master Curtie," Myra said.
Curt felt a headache, the entire world it felt like it was spiraling into chaos.
"Then... can you tell me why ... your former... 'collection'... are talking about their time as statues as if it was their real self, and being alive is a novelty?" Curt asked. He should have known better than to ask, he knew that the world was full of fetishes that everyone else thought were strange, but at the end of the day were what came natural to the person in question.
"That's because it IS their true selves! I'm not a monster, I wouldn't leave a MORTAL mind in a work of art. Unless mind and body are in harmony, there is only suffering. But I have to say... them being turned back this way is terrifying... When I TRULY transform someone, not just changing their bodies... I remake them from the ground up. They're not mortals made into statues, then turned back to 'normal' (what an absurd word). They're statues that have been turned into flesh and blood beings... And that is incredibly dangerous... You might as well be spilling gasoline everywhere and firing signal flares."
Curt knew he didn't want to hear this. "What do you mean?"
Myra turned her hand over, and let green flame appear.
"Fire turns one type of energy into another, it changes things, that is its nature. That is why transmutation comes so naturally to kitsune, flames already change and remake things. But only with a thinking mind behind it, otherwise it just devours. You understand Master Curtie?"
"I... think so."
"Now... magic depends on what form it takes... this rain... it shouldn't have affected those within my house. It just shouldn't have. But it did anyway. That is breaking the rules. It's like this magic had some petty personal grudge against my own magic if I didn't know better. But there's a problem. Magic's form aids to its nature. Rain washes things away, that is how it is. But... 'everything goes somewhere, everything comes from somewhere.' Duns Scotus used that unescapable logic once to surmise the existence of the S-class God using nothing but his intelligence and reason. Master... do you realize what this MEANS?!??! It means all the magic had to have GONE somewhere! And with the number of my creations that were forced into transient fleshy lives again... and it can't just be bottled up and thrown in a cupboard somewhere! And since we've seen that protection from the rain DOESN'T act as a protection of this side of the magic... Without a conscious mind to direct it, there's no telling what this mind magic will do!
Meanwhile, in one of the train cars, Suzie Banks, Sharon Banks, Kitty Banks, and Susan were sitting together, looking out at the enchanted rain. Suzie and Sharon having no idea their innocent rampage had caused this bleeding of the weave.
Myra was right about one thing... the 'living object' transformation that had been washed away by the rain, wasn't about to dissolve into nothingness, for nothing ever truly ceased to exist. This went double for the perception filter, being washed away... it would pool together like paint washed away.
Sharon Banks, who was teased by her sister looked like a living teddy bear anyway, went first, her eyes turned to glass, her insides became fluff, her mouth became a permanent sewn together smile, but she was always happy anyway. Stitches appeared along her sides, ears, belly, as her fur became felt, remaining the size she was before, but going from her fur covering everything, to become a genderless living toy bear. She only hoped there many children to play with when they got to wherever the train was going, and hoping they could go back to playing once the storm passed over.
Suzie Banks was next, a gray kitten in 19th century clothes and sailor hat... her body became shinny plastic...inside mostly hollow... her sailor school girl dress now hide the dotted holes around her belly, where her voice now came from. Her toe fused together, as joint lines formed on her wrists, elbows, knees, hips, neck, etc, as mold lines formed on her sides. Her face came a unmoving plastic sculpture smile, her head empty and hollow and no longer the sea of her consciousness. Her hair was now a piece of her head. Her claws and hands connected pieces of plastic. Her tail became segmented.
From her stomach her voice came out grainy saying, "The storm looks pretty." Her thoughts mirroring her sister, they'd been bought together after all.
Kitty and Susan, husband and life in their former lives, weren't spared either as the disenfranchised magic latched onto the nearest comparable mortals.
Kitty transformed much like her 'daughter', she'd bought the two living toys and raised them as her own after all. Her skin became shinny plastic, with segments made so she could be posed easier, her hair now resembling almost a wig, her face painted on. Losing anything between her legs or her rear. The sapient mannequin stayed perfectly still, as was her nature unless she had to move somewhere else.
And finally Susan... Her fingers and toes fused together, her legs and elbows being at an angle felt so natural now... Her mouth moved into an 'o' shape, as the openings between her legs and rear became identical. Her body turned hollow. The love doll's only concern was getting one of the precious few males on the cart to enjoy her.
Marceline meanwhile, spotted the lionesses... their skin turning shinny and metallic, their sex becoming only a seeming, their insides becoming machinery that didn't resemble internal organs at all. Standing up straight, the colored metallic lions standing perfectly still and at all attention unless they were given a function to obey, it was why Head Maid Skyla had commission their construction after all. Weapons and tools hidden in their forearms. Their names replaced by numbers. And they couldn't have been more okay with that. They were machines after all, names were silly things organic creatures needed to tell each other apart. Their thoughts became programmed instructions. They were happy little robots.
"This unit obeys," they echoed.
Marceline realized quickly she was the only one to notice the transformations around her in the final irony. But rather than be worried or scared, she was excited. 'Robot transformation at last? Cool!'