Chapter Text
Morty’s daemon hasn’t settled yet.
It’s perfectly fine, the doctors insist, every time mom and dad take him and Anastasie to be looked at. Although it’s most common for childrens’ daemons to settle between the ages of eleven and thirteen, it’s not unheard of for some people to go far later. There have even been records of people making it nearly to twenty before their daemons settled.
It’s perfectly fine. But it is just another thing that makes Morty different, in a world where he’s already different enough to cause him a lot of grief. His poor grades get him in trouble all the time at school, even when he tries. He struggles with learning—he’s stupid and he knows it. He’s the loner at school without any friends, and an easy bully magnet. And it only gets easier to pick him out of a crowd when he’s the only one with a daemon that changes.
Ana tries to stick to one thing for a day. She knows just as well as he does that her changing makes life difficult for them. But she says it’s hard to stay as one animal unless she really concentrates on it, and when they get distracted, or start daydreaming, or a bully stalks by and makes them nervous...well, she never stays the same thing for long.
It’s perfectly fine for him to be unsettled, but he can’t help but be jealous of his classmates. Of his bullies, for not only being big and strong, but having big strong bulldogs and badgers and eagles. Of his classmates, and their rabbits and foxes and lizards and birds of all kinds, sitting on their shoulders or their desks or nestled under their chairs. Of Jessica and her gorgeous long-haired cat daemon with fur the same shades as her red hair, that Ana dreamily says is named Demitrius. It’s just not fair that Morty’s life is already miserable enough, without adding being unsettled to the list.
Home is better in some ways, but worse in others. At least his father and mother are adults, and their daemons had settled years before he was even born. He’s never known a life without mom’s serpent demon Evariste coiled around her neck or arm as she makes dinner or drinks herself into oblivion on the couch. His father’s honey-bee daemon Calista is tiny and a little pathetic, but her constant gentle buzz is at least familiar. Their regular arguments are equally familiar, and while unpleasant, at least Morty is used to it.
Summer is the worst part of home these days, though. Her daemon Leander had settled into a parrot with brilliant plumage when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped rubbing it in since. She teases him and Ana constantly about when they’re going to pick a form already. Leander is just as obnoxious, flashing his brilliant colors at Ana whenever he gets a chance.
Morty hates it. He wishes she could see how stupid she looks in the hallways at school, every time one of the boys she has a crush on passes her and Leander tries to preen and show off his colors to attract attention. She’s pathetic and desperate, and everyone but her can tell. But the one time he’d told her as much in an argument, she’d kicked him in the nuts, so he hasn’t bothered since.
Everyone’s settled. Everyone’s satisfied with their daemons. Everyone knows their place. Everyone but Morty.
But it’s alright. The doctors say it’s perfectly fine. There’s nothing to worry about. He just has to wait, and maybe try to figure himself out a little.
Problem is, he doesn’t really know how to do that. He doesn’t know much about himself, really, other than he’s stupid and likes girls and TV and video games.
He wishes he could figure out the answer, because he doesn’t want to be perfectly fine anymore.
A few months later, he wishes he could be perfectly fine again, because it’s frustrating but it’s normal, and his new life is anything but.