<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/CbThKQ5.jpg)</div>Even a society of supposed outcasts were pretty stodgy about gender identity. That had been Nyx's experience anyway. Oh, the words were polite and the behavior toed the line, but they saw the glances and the questions. They saw the curiosity directed at them like they were some kind of lab rat to be disected instead of a human being. When you didn't fit into the puzzle most people had been taught to expect of life, you felt the pressure to shape, change, and modify your corners to fit. As they walked, they felt the gazes crawl across their skin. A mix of the boys' and girls' uniforms adorned their frame: skirt, stockings, and rounded toe shoes on the bottom, the top a boy's shirt and blazer. Their face was almost never exactly the same unless they were concentrating on it, but it was in an approximation of their typical androgynous, pink-haired appearance that was normal. They'd learned to signal their identity in ways to allow others to be comfortable. Besides, having friends was tough if they were never sure who you were.<br/><br/>Not that they knew much about that. They'd always had a rich inner life that never wanted for a lack of others. They paused just inside the entrance to the school building and frowned down at the buttons of their jacket.<em>That's not exactly right, though, is it?</em>Sighing heavily, they strode forward again and felt the familiar, shifting sliding feeling in their stomach that meant something was changing. As they passed a set of display cases, they noted that they had shrunk a few inches. Their height was oftena  reflection of their confidence levels; they had learned that about themselves. They require a lot of attention to understand and they understood that was one reason they were hard to approach.<br/><br/>Most shapechangers had a set form, a set identity, that was easy for them to maintain. An unconscious mode or setting that was the default. The thirteenth birthday was the key, but the form that stabilized that day was often one that had been part of that being's life for a while already. Nyx had never had the feelings that their mother, fahter, aunts, and uncles described. That rooted feeling. Their identity always seemed more cloud-like: free, flowing, changing with the wind. So, they had no set form or gender or anything else. They pressed their lips together and concentrated. They watched the form in the glass slowly grow so that the uniform fit properly again. Nodding, they firmed both their lips and their spirit as they ducked into the classroom.<br/><br/>They noted more than a few forms already seated, but a disgruntled grumbling in their heart caused them to stay in the back and take a seat where curiosity and questions might avoid them. They were just pulling a black, spiral notebook form their bright pink backpack when they realized another form was sat besides them. They noticed the smell first, sandalwood, they glanced out of the side of their eyes to note the form, the girls' uniform, and the strage visage.<strong>"Oh... oh!"</strong>Their light vibrato slipped out of their own pale face. Butterflies preceded the feeling of their face slipping. Grabbing a mirror from their bag, they looked into it to marshall their features. The one things they absolutely did not want to happen was for someone to see their face at complete rest. They grabbed their things then hesitated,<strong>"Uh... mind if I sit then?"</strong>The things were going back down and a slim hand presented itself,<strong>"Nyx Monnaie. They/them. Umm, dig your piercings."</strong>Then, before they knew it, they felt their lips slide and a small metal hoop slowly grew out of it. They groaned audibly and bit at the new metal to hide it.