((OOC: Canon point is during but before the end of the final battle of Gideon the Ninth. I will avoid spoilers if you indicate a wish for it in your reply, and match format to either action or prose! CWs and opt out are here.))

I. I Tried, And Therefore No One May Criticize Me
Gideon cuts into Ms. Morgan's little convocation so many times that the Naga freezes her again so that she can finish. It only serves to make her blood boil hotter, just as it had what seemed like eons ago when Harrowhark had thrashed her soundly on the shuttle launch and thwarted her escape. Only now, as she was finally given authority over her bones and the sundry attached meat, Gideon wasn't running away from Harrow, but toward. There was too much at stake, and besides that...

Well, never mind what besides. She threw the doors open and beheld a bunch of motley folk, scowling. "Okay, assholes, out of my way. Unless you're Cohort and know where the shuttles are."

Five minutes and several thrown punches later, Gideon stood In Detention, already casing the door to see what she could do with the lock.

"Amateurs," the broad-shouldered teen with the ginger mohawk and smeared skull paint snorted, pushing a pair of massive mirrored sunglasses up on her forehead for a closer look. "They don't even guve you ankle monitors. Out in a minute, two tops."

An even more substantial scabbard was slung across her back - empty, as they'd confiscated it when they locked her up - and she wore black robes that made her look as though she'd mistaken this for ... well ... a different large gothic castle of a school. At least at first blush this one seemed far less terfy. She glanced over her shoulder at whoever might happen to be sharing the cell.

"Just don't be a douchebag and rat me out."

II. Is This Real Life?
The cafeteria was practically a wet dream for someone who had spent ninety-nine percent of her seventeen years shoveling down gruel and slurping over-processed and refiltered water. Gideon's eyes nearly popped out of their black-painted sockets as she meandered the buffet, piling one of everything that wasn't clearly meant for monsters on a tray. Eventually she needed a second. By the time she reached the desserts, she was starting to wish there was a bone adept around to make a couple of constructs to help her carry more.

Stopping in front of the soft serve machine, Gideon squinted.

"Hey," she said to the first hapless person or mobster who happened to pass by. "What's this for?"

III. I Warned You About Stairs (transformation cw: head trauma, gore, body horror)
She's dragging her heels to class when the first transformations start. There's a sharp pain in her head, and Gideon drops her bag as she reaches up to clutch her temples. Almost immediately, she pulls her hands away, just in time to avoid being gored by two enormous horns that erupt out and down in thick, sweeping curves. Short fur sprouts starting at her collar bone, making her skin a seething, burning mass of itchy pinpricks, and she only manages to blurt out -

"Oh, shi---"

Then her legs crumple beneath her as her leg bones start to rearrange, femur splitting, sectioning off an extra jut of bone that pushes her legs, skin stretching like a small latex glove over a massive hand, her tibia and fibula shifting and fusing into some cursed metatarsal as her patellas rotate around to the back and rearrange and stretch and twist into something new she doesn't know a word for, something - well, duh, Nav - inhuman.

She tries to endure it - she's felt worse - but Gideon's legs are also sprouting new nerves and muscles, which twitch involuntarily and send her tumbling down the stairs. Instead of screaming in pain, Gideon fills her lungs and hollers:

"FuuuuuckHeyLookOutHotMessIncoming!"

IV: Wildcard
((Wanna spar? Comb the library for dirty comic books with a thirsty space lesbian? Trade class notes? ??? Profit?))