(no subject)

[psituational]

Characters: A miniaturised 10-year-old X and you!
Date: August 8-14
Location: Various places in and around Aifaran
Situation: Miniaturised 10-year-old X is very confused, and adorably gullible. But he's also very resilient, and much more capable and self-reliant than any 10-year-old has any right to be. He gets around, and gets into some trouble.
Warnings/Rating: X is trans and at 10 years old he wasn't aware of that yet. If anything becomes an issue, please let me know!


A | AUGUST 8 | THE BEGINNING: THE DREAMING BRIDGE
He still sleeps, even if he doesn't need to. It's a routine. Everyone does. You have nice dreams, and sometimes you wake up with the answers to questions that have been bothering you for ages.

But he's pretty sure he wasn't sleeping right before he woke up in this unfamiliar bed, in this unfamiliar room.

Aifaran, his mind supplies, cutting off panic at the pass. The Dreaming Bridge. It's safe. The only thing his mind doesn't mysteriously supply is his own name, something he only realises when he ventures tentatively outside and asks the first person he sees where he is.

Are you lost? What's your name?

"It's --"

-- blank.

That, he feels, is an acceptable reason to panic, and so he does. He spends the next several minutes running through the Bridge and addressing total strangers, asking if they know what his name is, because whenever he tries to guess it hurts and he doesn't know why and he doesn't understand what's happening --


B | MARKETS | COMMERCE - 3 | BOGO!
It's a hot, muggy afternoon while X walks around the market carrying a bright silver 'kitchen appliance' he bought, even though he's never seen it before in his life. But it was a fantastic deal! The seller said... a lot of things X can't quite remember anymore, but they sounded good! He can't wait to get back to the Dreaming Bridge and try it out!

... Except he's not sure what it does.

X stops in the middle of the street, frowning in intense concentration, and turns to the nearest bystander. "Excuse me," he says, polite and earnest as anything. "Do you know what this is for?"


C | NEAR THE BRIDGE | ARTS - 3 | IGHEERI EYE
The loud construction noises of the Bridge don't quite manage to drown out X's cries of objection as a large group of extremely tall bird-like creatures drag him off somewhere he's clearly very hesitant about going. To the casual observer, it doesn't look dangerous, especially since the Igheeri are more haughty and arrogant than they are criminal; but it sure does look like a case of a child saying no and the tall adults pretending not to hear.

X, for his part, has no idea how to handle the situation, other than to keep digging his heels in and pulling back. He's never before met an adult who didn't listen to him. It's weird.

"No!" he tries again. "I don't want new clothes, please --!"


D | THE TURTLE HEAD | TEARS OF THE OCEAN HEART - GUILTY PLEASURES
The head of the giant turtle the city rests on is the most peaceful place X has ever been. He can't put his finger on why, other than the view and the quiet, and he got plenty of both of those back in the Forest. But, whatever the reason, he spends several hours one day sitting cross-legged right on top of the turtle's head, watching something on his yimo intently.

The experienced soap opera fan might recognise the faint dramatic sounds of Tears of the Ocean Heart, a production very few people admit to enjoying and rarely watch in public. X, however, has no idea, and he has a teary smile on his face as he watches it. It's amazing. He never knew love could be forbidden, and the characters' fight against that cultural taboo to stay together anyway is so moving that he doesn't know if he wants to scream at the villains or stand up and proclaim that this is the most beautiful art he's ever witnessed.

After a moment, he chooses the second option, and does exactly that. Standing tall, with the yimo over his head, he announces: "This is beautiful! Everyone needs to see it!"


E | CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE!
X can be anywhere, and will be fascinated by the smallest things, so please feel free to create your own scenario and he'll jump right in!

Comments

A!

[rutility]

Perhaps it's old habit manifesting itself, but since the strange business with the Narrakra and the shadows Rutile has taken to making rounds around the Dreaming Bridge. They check on some of the frailer Dreamfolk and make smalltalk with acquaintances, but otherwise keep from disturbing other inhabitants; they don't purport to any kind of authority, it's simply a comfort to know who's about and what state they're in, even if Rutile cannot do anything about it.

Still, they don't know everyone, and things have become even worse with so many of the Dreamfolk reverting to their childhood selves. Humans have no business looking completely different as time passes, they observe irritably to themselves. When the latest child approaches them with panic in his wide eyes and pleading in his voice, Rutile doesn't recognize him at all.

Worse, the child doesn't seem to recognize himself. He wants to know what his name is - how is Rutile supposed to know such a thing? It's not as though humans make it easy. Fortunately for X, Rutile has dealt with this kind of thing before - memory loss is a frequent side effect of injury for gems.

The child is not that much shorter than Rutile; eye contact is easy enough. Still, they lean down a bit to come to his level, their hands resting on their thighs. "I know it is unreasonable to ask you to calm down," Rutile says evenly, "as you are understandably distressed. But I am not distressed, and I might be able to help if you can keep your wits about you."

They do not smile, but their voice is even and calm, and as reassuring as they get. The voice of a professional.

"Try taking a few deep breaths, and then we'll see if we can't get to the bottom of this. Does that sound reasonable?"

[psituational]

Why wouldn't he ask one of the people closer to his own height, even if he can't tell who they are? Obviously, similarities in height mean other similarities too. Like temperament. Maybe it'll mean he gets some sympathy.

... It definitely doesn't mean he gets any sympathy.

But they're not rude, either, just blunt. And they are trying to help. So he nods, a little more frantic than he means to be, and he takes three very deep and obvious breaths. "Okay," he says. "There. Who are you? Do you know my name?" His head tilts curiously to the side. "Are you a boy or a girl?"

The idea that the question might be impolite doesn't cross his mind. His only interactions before now have been family; they don't stand on formalities.

[rutility]

(In defense of X, that’s solid logic. His one mistake was in applying it to Rutile.)

The child’s question come in a rapid succession that Rutile listens to in stride - until the last one, which leaves them confused and slightly taken aback. They have fielded many questions about their species and occupation thus far (the lab coat draws both respect and disdain, sometimes at the same time), but never about such blatantly human concepts.

“I am Rutile,” they introduce themselves, in the same even tone as before, and gesture to their chest with one hand. “I am named after what I am made of. I don’t know your name, unfortunately, or what you are made of, though you look human enough. As for being a boy or a girl... there is only one rutile, and I am that.”

That ought to be clear enough.

[psituational]

"I'm made of --" He stops, looks down, frowns. "I don't know what I'm made of. I think I'm made of person. What is a person made of? Are they made of human?"

There's a massive breakdown in understanding going on here somewhere.

He doesn't know what rutile is, and Rutile looks enough like everyone else to provide no context clues whatsoever -- except that gender isn't involved at all. That's interesting to him, though he can't quite put his finger on why. Maybe just because it's new? He openly studies Rutile, his earlier panic subsumed by curiosity, and lifts a hand before he thinks to stop and ask first. "Can I feel?"

Now that he's looking closer... is it stone? It sure doesn't act like stone. Why would stone need to wear clothes?

[rutility]

Rutile flinches back from the child’s hand on instinct - gems can often be cracked or even shattered by the wrong physical contact with each other - but quickly regains control. “Ah, yes, I suppose,” they say - why the fascination with touching them, though, they haven’t the faintest. They pull off one of their gloves, revealing golden fingers with delicate striations, and reach out to show him - no need for the child to get his fingers all over their face.

While the child conducts his examination, they go on. “Humans are made of many different things,” they say. “Bones, and flesh, which is many kinds of tissue. It is impossible for anyone but the most clever scientists to figure out all of the component parts of such materials, which is why I suspect naming you is much more complicated. ‘Made of human’ is really quite an apt description.”

After a moment to think, Rutile says, “Given the circumstances, it is probably reasonable for you to pick a name, at least until we find someone who can name you.”

[psituational]

He nearly gives up on the whole idea when Rutile flinches back, because if someone's scared of touch, they'll never say yes to it. Only then Rutile does, and he brightens the way any child would when given permission to do something usually forbidden. He reaches out near reverentially and runs his fingers along one of Rutile's golden ones.

"Made of human," he repeats absently. He's never heard of that before, but it's good enough for him. Rutile's much more interesting, because they do feel like stone, which he guesses makes rutile a kind of stone. His eyes glimmer with curiosity; living statues are never among any of the stories Grandmother tells.

He remembers some of his earlier panic and pulls his hand back. "I tried," he says. "I tried a lot of different names, but they all hurt. Maybe someone else has to name me. Will you do it?"

B

[mandatoryfun]

On the one hand, the markets had a lot to offer, on the other... She didn't appreciate some of the merchants trying to push their "fantastic one time only" deals on her. Though she didn't fall for their tactics, they were still annoying and for some reason, the noticeable scowl on her face wasn't doing much to scare them of.

Just her luck.

Catching a break from the unwanted advertising, she turned to look at the child that had just addressed.

"That's a toaster." Raven said plainly.

"You toast bread with it."

[psituational]

"Toast?" X tilted his head at her, still frowning, still confused. He waited to see if the word was familiar in the way Aifaran and Dreaming Bridge had been, in this strange half-life he only remembered emotionally. But no; nothing came. "What do you toast bread for?"

And how did the -- toaster -- help you do it? X lifted it to study it from every angle, and he thought he could maybe understand where sliced bread would fit into it, but that didn't answer the question of what 'toast' meant. He was starting to get the sinking feeling he shouldn't have bought this, but the seller made it sound so wonderful.

[mandatoryfun]

Raven could often pick up whenever someone was messing around with her. Not like it was hard or anything, she just had no real tolerance for idiocy. Or idiots.

This time, however, she couldn't really... tell.

It truly sounded like he had no idea what toast was for. Much less how to even use a toaster.

Talk about oblivious.

"You eat it. You put the slices inside and it'll warm it up for you."

[psituational]

X's eyes widened. "Oh. It heats up bread?"

He tried to imagine eating warm bread, and couldn't manage it. If it was a rock-hard loaf like what they made in the winter, then, well, wasn't that heated already? That was how you baked it. And if it was the other kind, the softer kind, wouldn't it just get soggy?

Maybe he should try it out! It was his now, after all. X's expression brightened and he held the toaster out to the helpful lady. "Does warm bread taste good?" he asked. "Want to help me try it? Where can we find some bread to slice?"

[mandatoryfun]

"It tastes alright." It was bread, what else is it supposed to taste like? "It'll most likely taste better if you eat it with something else, or make a sandwich out of it." She wondered if that was going to enough to blow his mind, that they could do things with the bread instead of just eating it.

As for helping him with the toaster, it wasn't like Raven had anything major planned for the day.

"We can always buy some."

[psituational]

"You can eat normal bread with something else, though," X pointed out. "Like jam. Toast must taste really good if they invented a big thing like this to make it easier. I wonder if you can eat toast with jam on it?"

X had grown up sheltered, but not deprived. The Forest had given him and his clan a lot, but it never gave them anything like a toaster before. Then again, it had never spirited him away to a completely different world before, either. You learned new things every day.

X surveyed the markets with a critical eye that looked altogether too old to belong on his young face. "Where can we buy some? Is that a bread place, over there?"

D

[redlightgreenlight]

Escaping the city had been a fun adventure, ditching the collar even more so. She had left that under the couch in Devin's apartment. He'd find it eventually, and if he didn't, well, she knew where it was. Most importantly, she also knew how to get back. She trotted down the well trodden path to the head just in time to catch sense of joyous enthusiasm. Then, of course, came the triumphant sounds of a young boy shouting that joy to the world. Meira sat back on her haunches, head tipped, then shook herself and continued down the path.

What's so beautiful? She asked as she approached, tail waving ever so slightly.

[psituational]

Someone talked in X's head and he started, violently. The joyous enthusiasm got replaced with shocked confusion, and he stared with wide eyes at his yimo, like he was worried one of the characters might have come to life and spontaneously developed telepathy.

He couldn't read yet! He was too young, much too young, it would cripple him if he ever did. But he'd seen reading, and he'd heard about what it was like, and he was pretty sure it didn't feel like this. You didn't get just one sentence and nothing else.

He looked around, and his gaze finally fell on the black dog walking towards him. She was a beautiful dog, and there was something familiar enough about her presence that X wasn't afraid of her.

He got down on his hands and knees. "Was that you?" he asked curiously. "Who are you?"

[redlightgreenlight]

Oh, based upon the sudden sense of shock and confusion, she must have startled him. Meira stopped, tail up, paws planted square, watching the boy with her emerald green eyes.

Of course it was me, do you see anyone else here? She looked around then, wondering if there actually was someone else around, but she didn't see anyone. Meira crossed the rest of the way and sat in front of him, lifting a paw and tapping his shoulder gently.

I'm Meira.

[psituational]

X stayed very still while the black dog put its -- her? -- paw on his shoulder. He'd never done anything like this before, but he still felt safe, still felt unafraid. Those green eyes on him sparkled with intelligence, and X looked steadily back, his smile growing.

"Meira?" he repeated, testing the name out loud. "I'm -- X."

Asri, it still felt weird to say.

[redlightgreenlight]

X, she repeated, lowering her paw, It is nice to meet you.

She looked around, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Meira returned her gaze to him, head tipping, panting happily.

What's so beautiful?

C

[afoolsgold]

It is fortunate, then, that the Fool happens upon the scene when he does.

Whatever the peculiar, slightly far away look in his eyes might suggest, his hearing is keen, and the cries of protest from a child have him pushing his way through a crowded street to witness the scene as it unfolds. He only needs a moment to identify, for himself, who the child is; some things do not change even with age.

"Let him go," he says with a startling amount of severe authority in his voice, and whether they comply or not, the Fool promptly reaches out to press upon one of the Igheeri's wrists until they get the picture.

[psituational]

Haughty and arrogant, but not criminal, and definitely not unobservant or stupid. Forcing one of the Igheeri to let go makes them all let go, and X, suddenly freed, darts behind the newcomer's back and clings to his waist.

"We're just trying to help," one of the group insists. "No one's minding her, and those clothes she's wearing are terrible. They're too big."

"My clothes are fine," X says, very small, behind the Fool's back. Make them go away, please.

[afoolsgold]

The Fool settles a hand protectively against X's narrow shoulder and fixes each Igheeri with a lingering, steely look. "Help someone else," he tells them coldly, and does not budge from his new position as the barrier between this small child and the adults that had been ignoring his protests.

[psituational]

In the grand tradition of adults more likely to listen to other adults than to children, it doesn't take much more than the Fool's steely expression to make the Igheeri back off. X peers at them from around the Fool's waist, eyes wide.

"Dreamfolk," someone says, not quite derisively, but definitely approaching it. Then they all move off.

X doesn't move, won't move until he's sure they're gone, and in the meantime just clings to the Fool. "Thank you," he says quietly. "I don't know why they didn't listen."

[afoolsgold]

At their near-derisive commentary, the Fool only lifts his chin in subtle defiance, as though to say what of it? But already the Igheeri have wandered off, and at last some of the tension begins to ebb from the Fool's frame.

"...I don't know why they didn't listen."

"A common character flaw among grown-ups, I am afraid. We all believe we know everything already, including what is best for others." He sighs heavily and turns to look down at the child clinging to his waist. So this was what X was like as a child; he smiles in a conspiratorial fashion. "I hope you won't hold it against us."

He crouches down to be on X's level and folds his arms across his knees. "I'm going to ask you something you may find strange," he tells him, studying his features. Then, gesturing to himself, "Do you know who I am?"

E because this is Ilda, let’s roll! o/

[ilda]

It’s an unusually clear, sunny day, so Ilda’s taken off to the outdoors, blanket suits in her arms. They’re upgraded versions of the previous design; they now come in bright neon colors and are extra-warm. (It’s actually a little too early for winter accessories, but hey, as they say, the early fisherman catches the fish!)

She sets her yimo up on a tree branch, puts on one of the suits, and dumps the rest of the glaringly colorful items on the ground. And then she just starts dancing. Well, flapping her arms, technically.

[psituational]

It's an impossible sight to miss, and it doesn't take long for Ilda to have a captive audience. X lies flopped on the grass next to the tree and stares, utterly bewitched. He's never seen a dance like this one before. He's never seen clothes like this before. His eyes are wide and unblinking, and his feet in the air behind him tap against each other in time to her arms flapping. It's an uncertain rhythm, because X can't really tell what the rhythm is, but it's no less enthusiastic for it.

He's recognisable as X, though perhaps not right away. His skin colour and long hair are a giveaway more than his facial features.

[ilda]

It’s the tapping that gets Ilda’s attention, and she stops dancing, although it’s not out of annoyance or anything. She flashes a wide smile at X; she doesn’t recognize him yet, but she doesn’t need to. A fan is a fan and she’s all for spreading the Blanket Dance in whatever way.

“Hey there!” She flaps her arms in greeting. “Do you wanna join me? I have a few extra suits, and you can choose whatever color you like!”