shatterverse | (no subject)

In Metropolis....

Eden McCain has a table to herself at a coffee shop - notebook papers are spread over it with titles like 'Main Character' and 'Subplot 1'. The great post-apocalyptic novel isn't going to get written any other way! She felt like dressing like a cliche artist - and is wearing a navy blue beret.

Tom Therin is whistling cheerfully to himself as he walks down the street, idly looking for pockets to pick.

On the Cooper farm....

Bridgette Dubois has a stuffed pony, a lion, and a unicorn in a semi-circle on the lawn to the Cooper house. "Whoever wants me to sing Lion King at the talent show, say aye!"

The stuffed animals are silent, but Bridgette - after checking on Marie, who claps her hands in agreement an area to her left - nods as if they actually spoke. "All right - how about Sound of Music?"

Oliver Wycliffe, dressed in white and looking thoughtful, is riding his stallion Beauregard down the road to the farm.

Dana, an extremely tired-looking young woman in ratty jeans and a T-shirt, is waiting nervously in front of the hospital, gnawing on her lip.

[ooc: Tag one, tag all, but please let me know which one you're tagging!]

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"Which would mainly be a familiar target to bite, to be honest. I've no idea how I would get there, though."

"You might ask someone with a car," Oliver says.

He doesn't suggest the van.

"I wonder if I could even fit in one at the moment," he says, glancing down at his leg. "...Which reminds me that I ought to ask the physician how much longer he thinks I'll be stuck this way."

"Quite an abrupt fellow," Oliver understates.

"And not as accurate with biology as I'd like...he thought I was a chicken."

All right, he does bear some resemblance to barnyard fowl in animal form, but it's the principle of the thing.

There's a split second where the corner of Oliver's lip twitches up. But then it's back to normal.

Maybe you just imagined it.

"It is a rather unusual--" demon "-- form."

"Apparently there's a good number of dinosaur-skins-mostly in Euloria. They just happen to be damned good at hiding, for the most part."

Oliver gives an absent-minded nod.

From his altered perspective he feels a 'good for them' is called for...but he really doesn't feel like saying it.

"I keep hoping one of them will show up, or someone from my dig-it would be nice to see someone familiar, even under the...odd circumstances."

Oliver takes a deep breath in.

"There was a 'skin on the farm - a few months ago. A rat-skin named Tom. No one knows to where he left, and I've seen no one from our land since yourself."

"I suppose that means that the chances of someone recognizable coming in are rather low, then." Edwin frowns, thinking.

"I've not been able to sense a pattern to who is brought here and for what reason." He shakes his head. "We might even find different versions of ourselves, from what I've heard...."

Edwin makes what can only be described as a 'bwuh?' expression. "What?"

Oliver is rather vague on this concept himself. Really, it's one of those things he tries not to think about.

"Somehow two versions of the same person can be brought here. I confess I know little more than that."

"I'm not sure I want to know," Edwin admits, shaking his head. "I wish there were some kind of pattern; it would help, if only a little."

"Some things are ever meant to be mysteries."

"I suppose," he says, but doesn't sound happy about it. "I'll just have to learn what I can."

Oliver nods.

After a moment, "The pain isn't too bad?"

"Not as bad as it could be, generally-the pills I was given for the pain work wonders. The main problem seems to be itching."

"Yes, those pills are quite miraculous, aren't they?" Oliver replies, gaze going distant for the briefest of moments.

"I'm...glad to see that your healing is progressing well." This simple courtesy sits ill at ease in his tone and expression.

"Better than anything I'd be given if I was still in Euloria, I know that much."

He glances down at his cast for a moment. "Hopefully it'll be done soon. I'd still like to know it won't heal automatically," he says, shaking his head.

"Magic has its quirks, both godly and--" Wow, is this a sore topic "-- both sorts," Oliver amends. To cover up for his slip, he continues talking. "It doesn't aid a fox-skin's survival that their magic turns them mad, yet they are. Nor were wolf-skins helped by becoming ravaging beasts every full moon."

Demons can't function perfectly in a world not made for them, is one of the explanations.

"I suppose." He frowns as he thinks. "Having fragile bones does make sense-God knows it seems velociraptors are close enough to birds-but as you said, some 'skin traits are anything but helpful. Do the crow-skins have the same problem?"

If anyone would know, it'd likely be Oliver.

"They're like a beacon to restless shades," Oliver replies. "Those 'Sworn who follow the Discipline of Shades can track them because of that."

Edwin considers that for a moment, before deciding, "I think I'd rather khave the fragile bones instead, honestly."

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