FROM DUST TO DUST - Plot Post 1

[goneawaymod]

FROM DUST TO DUST

"Dust is only a name for what happens when matter begins to understand itself."
LINKS
WORLD INFO/WORKSHOPPING

BRIEFING
They're briefed on the situation. It's a full-scale incursion, where it's not a section overlapping the Gone-Away worl, the incursion zone allows access to an entire alternate universe. Full-scale incursions like this need to be resolved before reality breaks down entirely due to the two worlds overlapping.

They're told that Jorgmund has determined the objective is to gain something useful from this world, and that a simple diplomatic mission will procure it. They must make contact with the upper crust and some members of the clergy, who are fascinated by the prospect of their world folding into another. These aristocrats have a relationship with the Church, who has a powerful artifact in their possession. The New Hires will receive a special knife in exchange for some mingling, one that might be able to close up some of the holes in the reality of the Gone-Away World.

Their sponsors in this world are going to give them a few nights in a very classy hotel, and take them on a shopping trip to treat them to glamorous clothes and finery for the gala they're expected to go to.

That's it, that's the mission. Or so they've been tol.

The New Hires are also told about daemons. That everyone in this world has one. That there are different interpretations of what they are: the human soul externalized, or maybe something else, something alien and bad. Jorgmund tells them that they'll likely stick out, due to not having daemons.

This is a lie, of course. They suspect that the mechanics of this universe will rectify the lack of daemons the second they enter.

EQUIPMENT

• The New Hires will be sent over wearing clothing appropriate to the world they're entering, though for now it's plain and casual. (They'll be taken shopping later by their guides for their formal evening wear.)


• They'll only be allowed weapons and gear appropriate to the world, so most of their technology will be gone. The only guns they'll be allowed are revolvers and bolt-action rifles. They'll all have been given substitute weapons, for those that carry them.


• They'll be allowed a more stealthy version of their comms, that look like bracelets or leather cuffs. These have all the functions of normal comms. They project small holographic screens and holographic keyboards, instead of having physical ones.


• They will still have their powers, but will be warned to keep them under wraps, as no one in this world has any.


• Non-humans or people with other-than-baseline physical traits will get holographic image inducers styled as discreet world-appropriate jewelry. Or other accessories to hide what makes them look different.

CROSSING THE BARRIER

They cross over the shimmering barrier between worlds, and walk into a small park that's been cleared of people by their sponsors. All the buildings nearby are in an Edwardian style, with light brick, slightly baroque masonry, and arched openings. In the distance, they can see a college that seems to have even older architecture.

For a half second after they walk through the shimmering barrier they seem fine.

And then there is pain, like an iron hand gripping their insides and pulling something out between their ribs. For a moment, it feels like something vital is spilling out of them, like a big enough hole as been made for their heart and lungs and organs to spill onto the ground. It feels like something secret and private is being dragged into the open, where it doesn't want to be.

And yet, there is a sense of relief, like they've all suddenly had a splinter deep in their bodies that's worked itself out. There is no sense of emptiness left behind. It's not that they've lost something, it's that it's separated out - but remained connected. By some kind of invisible umbilical cord.

It's been externalized, not ripped away.

They're suddenly all there beside them, forming out of the ether. Daemons. Each New Hire can immediately sense which is their own. When they start talking, the daemons are sure in their knowledge that they were always there all along, just hidden away, and are delighted to interact with their other halves more directly.

Comments

QUESTIONS

[goneawaymod]

Feel free to ask the mods any questions here.

[hallelujahjunction]

Given that Supernatural's magical powers don't exist in this world but that hex bags are nothing but burlap sacks of herbs and bones, could I assume that Rowena has access to her hex bags here as an appropriate weapon?

NPCS

[goneawaymod]

A man and woman have been assigned to lead them to their hotel. They can be asked questions about daemons by anyone confused about their daemon situation.

Re: NPCS

[wherenoonegoes]

"So, hey. Just so I'm clear on something. We're definitely just here for the gala, right? It's not just some pretense to get all here so someone can do something horrible to us?"

Not that Hiccup would believe them even if they said it wasn't. He was mostly just watching for their reactions.

[drladysounds]

"So...am I going to have any trouble blending in with this?"

Shelley extends an arm. Lepakko is hanging from it upside-down, looking at the guides without a care in the world.

"Mine seems to be somewhat hard to be discreet with unless the gala is going to take place in a cave. Which would be hip, but probably won't be the case here"

Hiccup and Toothless

[wherenoonegoes]

Hiccup is over with Toothless, as usual, and the pair are staring at a small green bulbous-eyed dragon.

"The inner core of my being is a Terrible Terror. Astrid can never find out about this," Hiccup mutters.

"Pretty sure she already knows. Or at least would have a really good guess. And what are you laughing at?" the Terror answers before turning her attention to Toothless's honking laugh.

"Yeah, you don't exactly have room to talk bud." Hiccup adds, indicating the oversized fluffy black Norwegian Forest Cat nearby.

"I fail to see what could possibly be amusing about my appearance," the cat says in a haughty voice as she stretches out. "I suppose we'll need names, won't we? You may call me Queen."

Hiccup shakes his head. "Why am I not surprised? How about you?"

"Forge," says the little dragon. At Hiccup's slightly shocked look, she adds, "Hey, I have just as much right to the name as you do. More even. I can actually produce fire."

"Good point."

Drive-bun (No tag backs necessary but welcome)

[walkingballpit]

Phil has hopped over to investigate this preponderance of daemons. She flits about under feet and dodging Robbie's weak attempts at corralling her. There is very much a sense that Robbie is treating Phil like Wilt Chamberlain or the Blob (you can't stop them; you can only try to contain them).

Finally, Phil squares off facing the Terrible Terror. She looks the small dragon up-and-down slowly. "I can take her."

"Absolutely not, you're a rabbit. That's a dragon." Robbie will intervene if necessary.

"I'm no ordinary rabbit!! I'm the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on," shouts the rabbit that looks like:

[bringinghopewithme]

There's at least one exception to the mood of the moment, as walking through the barrier causes Bunny to collapse in pain.

Except he's not so much collapsing as folding in on himself, shrinking, until instead of one 6'1 rabbit, he is split into one tiny, adorable rabbit, and a leanly muscular 6'1 human woman. She looks as dangerous as a wild animal herself, and has neither clothing, nor the context to know what parts of herself are most socially important to conceal.

They're both shouting, overlapping demands of "what the heck" and "put her back" "put me back" from both rabbit and daemon, until the woman picks Bunny up and attempts to march right back through the shimmering barrier.

[fromfryingpantofire]

"Hey, hey. Shouting isn't helping anybody."

Sam has, somehow, managed to recover a bit faster than most people. His daemon, a large, female red-tailed hawk, watches keenly from the branches of a nearby tree. Enough mindfulness from them both that a raptor is not going to be comforting to a small rabbit.

He'd taken an extra bit of clothing on top of the sack suit that Jorgmund had managed to wrangle him into. Though the suit jacket might have been long enough, the high buttons would have meant leaving more open than their hosts would probably consider acceptable.

Instead, he slips off his overcoat, offering it to the human woman. "You may not be that fussed about putting this on, but I think it would make our hosts a lot more comfortable. Hopefully it won't be too heavy. I wasn't certain what sort of weather we'd be looking at here."

Jaime and Khaji Da

[beetlebutt]

The way Jaime screams makes it seem like the amount of pain he goes through as the daemon separates out is perhaps worse than some of the others have felt. This is because anything where he and the scarab feel pain at the same time creates something of a feedback loop. The Scarab feels his pain, Jaime feels the Scarab's, the Scarab feels Jaime feeling the Scarab's, etc. etc. In this case it doesn't stop until the source of the pain does, his screaming only stopping when the daemons have finished forming out of the air.

Daemons. Plural.

One is a very normal-looking female coyote, albeit in a slightly unusual color: white and black and gray, but the black has almost a blue sheen, and there aren't many red tones in her fur. The other is a nightmare land crustacean from hell, with a body that's three feet across all around, four arms with claws at the end, and a massive leg span of about 7 feet across like a spider crab.

"I AM KREB!" the hell-crab declares, in a voice that can only be represented with Caps Lock. "I NOW TOUCH THE WORLD. I PINCH! NOTHING CAN STOP ME."

Jaime kneels there, a hand clasped over his mouth in horror, because it's now abundantly clear for all to see that, something is off. Even if it was normal to have two daemons, who would have a giant alien nightmare crab? Other than maybe the aliens? Hell, he bets the aliens don't even have giant alien, nightmare crabs.

"Ay Dios mio," sighs the coyote, nipping at one of the crabs legs. "Well, I'm Thea and I'm going to bite you unless you simmer down."

"EVEN IF YOU BITE, YOU CANNOT BREAK MY SHELL."

"I very much look forward to finding out," says Thea, baring her teeth, looking over at Jaime, as he kneels there in horror, a hand over his mouth. She hisses, "You're upsetting him."

Kreb looks over at Jaime and stops as he listens to something meant for his ears alone. Jaime hears chirping like the Scarab's but it's like he's only overhearing it. It's not meant for him.

"...I WILL NOT PINCH," Kreb concludes after being talked to by the Scarab.

"Thank you," says Jaime under his breath.

[I WILL TRY TO BE GOOD.]

"Only try, huh?" Jaime whispers.

There is a chirp of embarrassed affirmation. Self-control when you never actually get to control your human driver is not exactly something that comes naturally, especially when your soul gets to freely act out your subconscious.

"You're my daemon, aren't you," Jaime says to the coyote. "Something about this world separated you off. And Lovecraftian Sebastian over there is you-know-who's. You're like our souls or whatever?"

"Yes."

"So you were always there?"

"Yes. Even if you couldn't tell."

Jaime looks around and sees that he is literally the only person there with two daemons - and even worse, their two guides, native to this world, have recoiled back, white-faced and pointing at him, looking absolutely horrified and disgusted.

"It's okay," says Thea quietly, coming over to comfort him, nuzzling his cheek with her snout. "We can protect him."

"They're going to figure it out," he whispers. "Someone's going to figure it out. Even if the New Hires are safe, other people..."

"We'll protect him, Jaime. God knows he doesn't make it easy, but we will."

It feels natural to lean into the nuzzling, the thread his fingers through her fur. He can tell that it's true, that she really was there all along.

So Jaime's introduction to this whole ordeal is clearly not as gentle as some of the others. To the outsider, it's obvious his number of daemons is clearly off, and one's fairly nightmarish. And equally obvious, by the way one of them is comforting him, that he's very shaken right now.

Re: Jaime and Khaji Da

[wherenoonegoes]

"Okay, so if I ask what's with the alien crab, am I going to get an honest answer?" Hiccup doesn't really expect an actual answer as he crouches down, even though he's curious. Meanwhile, the dragon on his shoulder gives a very disappointed look to their hosts.

"And what exactly are you two gawping at?" Forge asks. "The multiverse is weird, folks. If you didn't expect anything strange to happen when you invited us here, then you weren't paying attention. For all any of us know this is entirely normal for his universe and you'd be the weird ones."

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Hiccup says with a small grin playing on his lips.

FRY

[pastnastification]

Upon finding out that he suddenly has a dog, a goofy looking beagle, Fry is immediately confused.

"Hi! Hi! I am your soul!" says the dog. "I am your daemon, hi!"

Fry's mouth turns into a little O of surprise and delight, and he kneels down to pet her. "I have a soul-dog, neat! What's your name?"

"I don't know!" says the dog excitedly.

"Well, my last dog was named Seymour Butts, because that was the name from the crank call on the pizza delivery run where I met him. He was the best dog, but you need a good name, too." He thinks hard. "So I think I'll name you after the second most popular name people gave me on crank calls: I.P. Freely."

"That is a good name, Fry!" says I.P. She then briefly loses interest and chases her own tail, before paying attention to Fry again.

"Can you sing 'Walking on Sunshine'?" asks Fry. "If you can't, I can teach you. I taught Seymour."

"I think so!" says the dog, her tail thumping for several seconds of blank staring. Then she says, "But I do not know the words!"

"It goes like this," Fry says, and then he starts singing. "I'm walking on sunshine, whoa-oh-ooh!"

"Now I do know the words!" the dog says excitedly, and she sings along with him the second time, hopping around him on her hind legs as she sings, "I'm walkin' on sunshine, whoa-oh-ooh!"

"And don't it feel good!" they finish together.

"Can I go meet the other daemons, Fry? Please please please please please?" Several tail thumps. "Please?"

"Go ahead. While you do that, I'll think of more songs to each you. Or figure out what sport you can learn so you can get a feel-good children's movie made about you."

"Yay!" says the beagle, hopping several times in the air.

Then the dog runs for the nearest person and starts running around their daemon in circles, chattering at them as she runs.

"Oh boy oh boy! Hi! Hi! I'm I.P.! I'm Fry's soul, I am a dog, can we be friends?!!"

Re: FRY

[bringinghopewithme]

"Woah hey!" Acacia, wearing someone's long jacket, lifts Bunny high overhead as the beagle tromps circles around her. "Calm down, you undersized dingo. We can be friends, just don't touch my person."

"Who's soul got off its leash?" Bunny objects, from well above Acacia's head. At least it doesn't smell like a real dog.

Shelley Winters

[drladysounds]

It's not really the first time Shelley is in a place with unusual qualities. True, usually it happened because she had died, but still! Now here she was, alive and kicking, and with her fellow Jorgmund employeees nearby. All in all, not a bad time.

The bat is new, though. "I had no idea I had a bat in my heart all along. Usually the recommended number of animals inside you is zero, but I'll make an exception for you" she says to it, bopping his head with a fingertip.

For a moment Shelley simply grins, observing the rather large bat clinging to her -- large enough to reach her waist when standing on the ground. The wingspan is impressive for a critter of its size!

Lepakko climbs to her ear and whispers something, going unheard to any bystanders. It gets Shelley to giggle, though. "Alright, alright, let's do it" she says, placating, and stands a little distance away before extending her arms sideways, Lepakko attached to her back and extending his wings alongside her arms, making it look like Shelley grew bat wings.

Deepening her voice, Shelley proclaims: "Criminals are a superstitious, cowardly lot...I'm vengeance. I'm the night. I...am...Batman!" She manages to keep that for around three seconds before devolving into mirthful laughter, doubling over and gasping for air. Oh, that was delightful! Good times! She has been in this world for like five minutes and she's already having a blast. Lepakko climbs to her head, his paws covering her face while she laughs, struggling to stay on her.

"H-Hey, haha, you better behave! My glasses!"

Once Lepakko has settled with his head right on top of Shelley's hair and the rest of the bat cascading behind her back, she looks around with interest, talking to anyone nearby.

"I know we're on the clock but being around here really gets your adventure spirit going. Maybe that's what some of us have as our demons" Daemons, Shelley, pronounce it right.

Lepakko bends to whisper in her ear. Shelley shakes her head.

"No. We're not going exploring. We're sticking with everyone"

Lepakko looks quite disappointed while he sets his head back on Shelley's head.

Crossing her arms, Shelley regards whoever she's talking to. "Although I guess for this little buddy it's more like...you know how cartoons show an angel and a devil on your shoulders talking to you? I guess I got stuck with only the devil, and it's too large to stand on a shoulder"

It seems in Shelley's case her daemon is full of her more excitable and outlandish traits, those that have both gotten her into a lot of trouble in the past and saved her from danger. Luckily for everyone, Shelley has enough selfcontrol over said traits, and Lepakko knows it. She can behave.

Drive-Bun (No pressure to reply but replies welcome)

[walkingballpit]

Robbie has absolutely no room to talk, as his daemon is currently a small shoulder-sitting ball of floof that is identifiable as a rabbit rather than tribble only by ears and tail, but that doesn't mean his daemon won't.

"I don't identify as devil or angel," Phil says proudly in a voice like a squeak. "I'm going for Bungels with Filthy Faces. It's me, Snakes. Oh - Robbie, can I be Snakes instead?"

"No, you already told at least 15 people you're Phil, Phil."

[fuckingaqua]

Oh, cool. Another day, another this might as well fucking happen.

If Tucker cared about using logic all the time, he'd be like, why be mad about something that's not really surprising. Tucker does not care about using logic all the time, so he goes ahead and feels miffed about this in the most resigned way possible.

Truly, no bond is better than an agitated man and the large, meticulously-preened, speckled parrot that's made of his soul or whatever.

"This is bullshit," he offers, ever eloquent. "One line! Put a heads up in the mission briefing! I didn't sign up to be responsible for a pet."

The cockatoo, who claimed his shoulder as a personal perch to shuffle back and forth on in a way that's not anxious, at all, thank you, sort of peering around at the gathered mission team, flicks out a wing literally just to boff him in the face with it a little.

"I didn't sign up to be responsible for a pet either, do you hear me bitching about it? What are we standing here for, come on, check in with some teammates or something."

He absolutely does not have the brain cells required to figure the logistics on standing still longer to spite ... himself??? Jesus. But, you know, problem with caring about Team New Hires as a concept in a vague sort of 'the kidnapped sad sacks who just got their souls yanked out who stay together probably have a better chance of not dying,' and a caring about a couple of people on a personal level to boot, is that spite doesn't hold up much anyway.

[prairietroubador]

"Leastways yours is portable. I got a horse. You know how difficult gettin' her around is gonna be?"

"You say that like it's my fault, Mister I'm gonna be the most stereotypical cowboy humanly possible," says the horse, her accent matching Greg's. "You only got yerself to blame for this."

"I'm Patsy, by the way. You doin' alright Tucker?"

Stacia

[credit_not_blame]

The externalization of Stacia's daemon goes a bit differently. When she staggers, she...ripples, for lack of a better word, her body bulging and twisting as she tries to shift in reflexive response to what feels like a mortal threat. The seams of her dress strain to contain her; some of them fail and split. And then the teeth and hair and claws are pulled off of her, coalescing into a wolf that looks very much like she does when she's shifted.

"Ughh," she says, leaning into the wolf as it likewise leans into her. "Ohh. Ow. That was bad."

"Can't say I cared much for it either," the wolf says, nosing her face. "Come along now, someone's going to trip over us and neither of us would appreciate that." Stacia nods and twists her fingers in his fur, letting him lead her out of immediate hazard range.

"...Bit on the nose, isn't it?" she asks, loosening her grip. "A werewolf with a wolf daemon."

"I didn't pick the shape," her daemon says. "And I think it's safe to assume you won't be shifting while we're here. Lovely."

"Great," Stacia says, wrinkling her nose. "Remind me to pick up a rock I can fit in a tiny purse."

[paganpoetry]

Rowena's daemon is bigger than she is, and as such watching her extrication is a little bit akin to watching a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis and immediately spread open its wings. It's not as bad as childbirth, Rowena thinks, but it's certainly unpleasant and manages to feel similarly private-made-public. She's in a storm of a mood when she and Torcaill separate, and both of them, human and stag, stamp their feet in a show of absolute petulance.

Strangely, despite the fact that Stacia, next to her, has a massive wolf as her daemon, Rowena doesn't feel afraid at all.

"A rock in a purse?" Torcaill asks.

"Seems a waste of a good purse," Rowena says, brushing dust away from her dress and checking the embroidery. "They don't last long as bludgeons."

[runes_brand]

Brand's attempts to protect whatever vital part of him is being drawn out result in him being wrapped around a dog that's a cross between a cloud and a tank. She twists around in his arms to lick his face.

"It's all right," she reassures him. "You didn't lose me. It's all right."

Brand doesn't let her go, burying his face in her fur, and she doesn't appear to object to being clung to. She does give a hairy eyeballing to anyone who looks like they might come close while he's recovering.

"I'm Fiona," she says, still mostly to Brand. "You can call me 'Fi'."

Brand takes a deep breath and finally unclenches enough to sit back and take a look at her.

"'Junkyard dog', huh?" he says wryly. Fi snorts and wags her long tail once.

"Please," she says. "We've seen our pedigree papers."

This, for some reason, makes Brand laugh aloud. A rare sound since Rune disappeared.

[morebetter]

"Junkyard dog? We had a junkyard cat, once. Smelly son of a bitch, always bathing in gasoline like it was suntan lotion," a feminine voice says from behind Fiona. Mac shows up, grinning and oblivious to Fiona's stink-eye, with an iguana-sized frilled lizard on his shoulders.

"Could you at least try to talk like your balls dropped, bro? Like, even just one." Mac tries to pull the lizard off his shoulders, but she flares up her frills and he yelps.

"Do lizards have balls?" the lizard wonders, finally letting Mac handle her. He shoves her at Brand's face.

"Dude. Check it out. I got a pet Jesus lizard. How badass is that?"

Cammie MacCloud

[tr1xx]

Cammie's no stranger to pain that doesn't actually leave a mark. She staggers and stumbles, gasping for breath in a way that quickly reminds her that no, this is different, this is her human body, she's not being attacked, so do not freak out, for the love of god—

Until the pain's replaced by relief and she finds herself staring at a small rabbit, white with red-brown patches, and she's sure her own ears would be tilting curiously to match its, if she'd been allowed to wear them.

Oh, of course.

"...y'know," she says, sitting back on her heels, "if ye'd been anything else, I think I'd have to ask if they do returns."

Can a rabbit roll its eyes? This one gives it a damn good go, regardless, before hopping up onto Cammie's lap.

"Right, because that's how this works. What else would I have been?" the rabbit, of course, has an accent to rival Cammie's own. "Name's Fergus, by the way. Or you can call me—"

"Fergie," they say in unison. Cammie laughs. "Dinnae ask me what else you coulda been, how'm I supposed ta know what the rules of another universe thinks my soul is gonna be? Ye coulda been anything!"

Fergie shakes his head. "No, I couldn't."

Cammie rolls her eyes, and smiles. "...no, you couldn't."

Re: Cammie MacCloud

[runes_brand]

"Is everything all right over here?"

The feminine voice of concern comes from a white dog that might weigh almost as much as Cammie. She's waiting at a polite distance so as not to alarm girl or rabbit. A quick glance around reveals that Brand isn't too much farther away, doesn't seem to be interacting with any daemon in particular, and looks grumpier than usual. The dog, meanwhile, appears perfectly placid.

"I'm Fi, by the way," she says.

[fromfryingpantofire]

The weirdest thing for Sam is that...he knows this isn't the first time he's felt this. His soul being pulled from his body, that is. There's a moment where the memory TRIES to assert itself, but Castiel's sacrifice means that those memories are muted. Far away. It allows him to not only keep his feet but also swallow down any nausea that tries to assert itself.

He doesn't open his eyes until he feels a great weight on his shoulder, startling a bit to look up at a good-sized red-tailed hawk peering down at him.

And it might be more disconcerting if it didn't feel so RIGHT.

He holds out his arm, the way he's seen falconers in the movies do it, which earns a sort of hoarse chuckle from the hawk as she changes place from shoulder to forearm. "Probably don't want to do this very long. I'm a bit heavier than your usual weapons."

"True," he says after a moment. "Still lighter than the last winged thing I carried around."

"Castiel was drunk, that doesn't entirely count." Still, she shifts a bit and preens her feathers back into place before looking at him again out of one eye.

Sam's quiet before raising an eyebrow. "So. Manifestation of the soul, huh? Figures it would be a raptor."

"What can I say, Sam? You're a hunter at heart, even when you try to ignore it." Maybe not the most comforting, but his soul wasn't meant to be comforting for him. Just...truthful.

[credit_not_blame]

"Upside, I bet they have great daemon accessories here."

Stacia's Jorgmund-provided traveling clothes seem rather worse-for-wear from the process of expelling a familiar wolf from her body, more so than everyone else's grass stains. Split seams everywhere, though at least there are enough places they've held together that they're not falling off of her entirely. She eyeballs Sam's knees before returning her eyes to his face.

"What are your thoughts on steampunk?"

South

[ownperson]

South hates being vulnerable. She can still barely look at York since she spilled her metaphorical guts to him so this? This? The sensation of some hidden, secret part of herself being yanked out into the open? It all but makes her want to hurl.

If she could fight it, she would, but she can't. She can only kneel there, eyes clenched shut and hands curled to fists, until the sensation stops and is replaced by the rush of relief that only just takes the edge off the feeling of being exposed.

She doesn't open her eyes right away. The first hint of what her daemon is comes in the form of her wrapping her long, scaled body around South's arm and slithering her way up towards her shoulders. South doesn't jump, because it doesn't feel like some strange creature touching her, it feels... like a part of her, and so she finally opens her eyes to look at the green snake now draping itself across her shoulders, tail still wrapped around her bicep.

"You know if anyone looks at us funny, or comes too close, I can just fucking bite them," her daemon says, and alright, South gives an amused snort at that. Oh yeah, that's her fucking soul, no doubt. "So don't freak out, Nata—" South bristles, and without missing a beat, the snake adjusts, "—South. We're fine. We've handled worse, right?"

South's instinct is to bite back, say there's no we about it, but no, it doesn't feel that way. I becomes We, or— whatever.

"Yeah, yeah," she says, and it doesn't stop her feeling exposed, but the snake's right, anyone bothers them, at least she's got fangs. "The fuck are you called, anyway?"

"Anja," Anja says, and if South's stomach turns at the fact her name shares the first letter with a certain someone else, she's not going to admit it. Anja bumps her head against South's face and South sighs, pulling herself to her feet to look around.

At least she's not the only one with her soul on display, she supposes.

Re: South

[runes_brand]

Brand's got a hand buried deep in the white fur on his daemon's neck like he's trying to scruff a dog that weighs as much as a preteen. All four of the dog's feet are still on the ground though, and the swishing of her tail indicates that she's indulging him rather than actually being hauled anywhere against her will. Brand makes eye contact with South and rolls his eyes so hard that it involves everything above the nose and below his hairline.

"She won't stop talking to people," he explains. Complains. The dog swishes her long tail even more vigorously.

"Hello South," she says. "And South's daemon. I'm Fiona, you can call me 'Fi'."

Remy LeBeau/Gambit

[kingofneworleans]

Over the years, Remy's been hit by a lot of pain. He'd even been stabbed through the heart once.

Should have killed him. Somehow didn't.

Still, the pain and feeling of something being pulled out of him is...more than a bit disconcerting. Enough to drive him to his knees, eyes clenched tight behind the period appropriate sunglasses they'd given him, muttering a string of curses under his breath that were only partly in English.

Eventually, though, it settles, leaving him panting for breath and his hands buried in...something furry.

"'S all right." He opens his eyes to find a fox beneath his hands. A perfectly normal fox. Other than the fact that it's talking to him. "Reckon it's gonna take a moment for you to get your head back t'gether, hein?"

Remy blinks for a long moment before laughing, gathering the fox close. "'Course you'd have a yat."

"'Course." As though it's the most natural thing in the world. "New Orleans through and through, we are." A flick of the vixen's tail thumped against his ribs. "Gisele," she says, replying to the question he hasn't asked. "Gigi if you want to, 'course. Or if Rogue wants to."

Drive-bun (No tag backs necessary but welcome)

[walkingballpit]

"Monsieur le Gambit!! Pardon! Pardonne moi! Je ne ... parlez francaise?" The bunny is hopping up and down to try to get Remy's attention, unconcerned with how that may or may not appeal to a fox daemon. "If you, uh... happen to see a pair of red overalls in my size, you should know that they would be greatly appreciated if they were to come my way."

"Phil! What are you bothering Remy for?" Robbie is a few feet away, and only half paying attention because Robbie is rapidly learning that as exhausting as it is sometimes for him to be the best version of himself, it is so much worse to keep up with the Speedball Ideal in action. He wracks his brains to figure out what joke could possibly need a Cajun or redhead.

"With yellow buttons," Phil whispers conspiratorially. "P-p-p-p-please?"

Robbie is heading over. Phil stops hopping and looks away, feigning disinterest, and mumbles "I was never here."

[fuckcable]

"I AM KREB!"

Julio Richter is still on the ground when a thing down the way starts shrieking in a not-unfamiliar way. He ignores it, staring at the animal that recently coalesced from golden sparks that came out of him.

Even with the advanced warning, it’s still a shock. Doubly so when it turns out your spirit animal is some sort of weird cross between a lemur and a cat.

“I’m a genet.” His demon sniffs the air haughtily, and Ric almost says a few things that he would definitely regret calling half of his soul, like a nosy bitch that should stay out of his head. Good thing the Mr. Sinister of daemons is still spouting off.

"I NOW TOUCH THE WORLD. I PINCH! NOTHING CAN STOP ME."

They look at KREB together from a safe distance. Neither speaks but there’s a sense of mutual bonding. THAT. We hate that, right there. All of the genet’s shortcomings are forgiven in advance, because she is not KREB.

“Indeed. My name is Urukáme.”

“I can name my own soul, you-“

“You couldn’t even name yourself,Rictor.

Rictor is an excellent code name. The staring contest lasts twenty seconds and neither can be said to actually lose, as the stony silence is broken once again.

“...I WILL NOT PINCH.”

“I’ll claw,” Urukáme promises, and Ric laughs at the joke that isn’t.

His daemon gently headbutts him on the chest. “Now get up. They don’t know you just want to roll around in the dirt.”

He really wants to roll around in the dirt, though. He just wants to be filthy with freedom.

She’s right, of course; they should be allowed to chalk his behaviour up to his reaction to his daemon without becoming suspicious that he’s thoroughly enjoying himself now. So he gets up and starts leading her away from KREB. That Avengers kid will probably handle it. They’re good at that.

[hallelujahjunction]

It's not Dan's voice, but it's so clearly Dan's daemon, between the concrete-thick hillbilly accent to the fact that her voice is scratchy enough to sound somewhat like trying and failing to start a car engine as it comes up from around Ric's ankles. "What are you? You're cute."

"Virginia! Sorry, no sense of personal space, no idea where she gets that from," Dan says, emerging from the crowd and scooping the ferret up by the scruff, as if he doesn't treat anything that enters the triple-dorm as communal and doesn't frequently help himself to whatever Sam and Ric bring home - probably his worst rooming habit. "Wow, Ric, I was really going to peg your soul animal for a mole or prairie dog."

"A prairie dog..." Virginia says with a dreamy sigh, although it's unclear whether it's a lustful or hungry one, given the shape of her.

Dan pauses as KREB in the background shouts something about pinching again.

They both speak at the same time, Dan and Virginia and their ambient concern for their surroundings in stereo. "Do you think they need help over there?"

[walkingballpit]

The idea of having a chunk of his soul torn lose and formed into a shape that others could see and … judge. Robbie was afraid it would look like a nightmare, that it would be the physical manifestation of his worst opinions of his worst faults. Now that the physical pain of it has passed, he can see that…

It isn’t. The rabbit is very small, round, adorable. But definitely his, no doubt about that.

“Hi Robbie!” It even sounds adorable, and that is just cheating. The bunny hops in place a few times, starts to scamper a few feet towards Jaime and KREB, before turning tail and darting in the opposite direction before doing actual circles around Robbie. “Who do I meet first? Saturday? Cammie? Ooh! Where’s Brainy?”

Robbie scoops the bunny up in one hand - he doesn’t want to find out what happens if someone accidentally steps on her. “I think we should give everyone a chance to meet themselves first.”

He had taken a knee when it happened, but now he sits down properly and gives his soul a good scritch behind the ears. This… isn’t so bad, really. The bunny likes the scritch, which seems to mean he likes the scritch, and it’s quite a nice little loop.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell Niels you scritch for free. Cross my heart.” There’s some thumping on his palm and Robbie realizes that the rabbit is actually trying to cross her heart for him. “You have to do it for me.”

Nothing should have eyes that round and pleading. Robbie solemnly draws an X in the fluffy fur with his index finger. “Do you want a name?”

“A name! Yes, we’ve wanted a name of our own for so long. No, I have one - Philoxenia!! I’m Philoxenia. Baldwin. The first? Philoxenia Baldwin the First of her name.”

“… can I call you Phil?” It seems only right to ask, because that was with a long time planned or some quality impromptu spin.

“Yes!!”

“Good,” he said as he gets to his feet, still holding Phil. “Let’s see how everyone else is making out. Point the way, Phil.”

“You know I can’t point!”

“Use your ear,” he stage whispers down to her.

“Oh!!” Phil looks like an extremely determined bun indeed, and an ear drops down into a point. “I did it!”

[googledox]

A creature comes crawling through the grass with the darting motions of a predator. It's an animal that dominated its environment by being agile and intelligent - and adaptable. Able to hunt down prey either through flight or quick darting motions in the grass, able to hunt intelligently alone or in social groups, hidden by camouflage that changes the color of its feathers and skin.

It looks like a mix between an iguana and a bird, though it's more lizard than bird right now, its brightly colored feathers fading to dappled green to hide in the grass.

Surely this dangerous little beast is gunning for the rabbit as prey, planning on eating the little bunny. It scurries, jumps, tackles.

...And then starts aggressively nuzzling Phil, grooming her with his beak.

"Stay still, you're absolutely covered in grass," says Krel.

"I don't know if you've noticed this but your daemon appears to be an orb," says Brainy with mild amusement, hands clasped behind his back.

Carolina

[onequartershark]

This is a surprise. Mostly, as the group passes through the barrier, Carolina is thinking darkly about how much more uncomfortable she's going to end up after the "shopping trip."

Then, she's fighting her way back up through the pain almost as soon as she's down. She has no idea how she's under attack, but she's reaching instinctively for where a sidearm should be when her hand makes contact with fur instead. Makes contact, and keeps going. It's deep.

"Steady."

She looks.

Bracing Carolina's leg (her bad one, actually), with her hand in its mane, is a lion.

"...Oh goddammit," she says as she realizes what has just happened. She lets go of her daemon and breaks the contact between her bad knee and the cat's shoulder, brushing dust off her leg.

"I'm not so bad," he replies. "Unless I want to be." The lion's lip curls in a small but too-human smile, one fang showing, and Carolina recognizes the grim humor in it. It's hers. It's always been hers.

"Can I call you something now that you're out here, or are you going to make me pick?"

He considers for a moment, watching the rest of the group scrambling and shouting and getting their own bearings, then his golden eyes return to her with his answer: "Call me Achilles."

Carolina isn't well-read, but Carolina had to endure as much classics as generations of other high school students. She doesn't remember most of it. She still knows the self-own he has dredged out from the depths when she hears it. Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans...

"Fair." Carolina thumps the lion's back, hard. He only looks smug.

"Enough screwing around. We have work to do."

She says it as much to Achilles as to whoever is near.

[bothbarrels]

North is sitting down with his penguin nearby, talking to her, still gathering his bearings after the emergence of the dust-formed creature. He glances over when he hears what Carolina has to say.

"I don't know that this would be considered 'screwing around'," he says.

Come pet the weird dog

[garmr]

The thing first emerges into existence as amorphous black sludge, not unlike a reptile hatchling bursting through the fluids of its leathery egg.

From Guts it falls to the floor in a puddle, writhing as the consciousness is disturbed. It eventually stands itself up on four legs, opening its maw full of teeth. Despite its grotesque appearance, the creature could hesitantly be called canine. Once it is fully formed, the only sludge is the drool between rows of crocodilian teeth, the rest of its body covered in undulating black fur. Its body was large, certainly larger than any dog. It looked like it might swallow a man entirely if given the chance.

Guts finds himself frozen in a moment of mute horror as that nightmare thing turns to look at him, its tongue lolling out.

“You.”

It laughs in greeting, voice a gurgling echo.

“We, you mean?”

The horror quickly turns to indignant hostility towards the hound-thing.

“Shut up. This must be some kind of dream, if you’re here slobbering’ all over the ground.”

Fuck you, weird dog! He’s hallucinated about this enough times to know not to listen. He grips the handle of his sword (yes, it did look a bit odd with the Edwardian clothing they put him in, but he had more pressing matters, like whether or not to stab his own daemon).

[drladysounds]

"...are you okay? You look like you're about to behead someone"

Well, perhaps she understimated the shock of getting part of yourself ripped out of you, she supposes. Maybe Guts took it far worse than others. It's not something anyone can be judged for -- almost anyone would react the same way!

Or perhaps it's due to his daemon's...rather bizarre shape. Shelley doesn't seem too concerned about that, having glanced at this creature for a moment before focusing on Guts. Lepakko, though, is nowhere as laidback. His fur is standing on end, staring at Guts' daemon like he expects something to happen. Lepakko is a large bat, but he's harmless. All he can do is try to keep his distance, clinging onto Shelley's shoulders.

Leia

[alderaani]

The world looked pretty enough but when she saw people collapsing she did the opposite of the intelligent thing, rather than be cautious and not go forward she ran forward as if she could help. Hitting that curtain at speed sent her to her knees and a roll of agony but no scream. She'd held her tongue while every nerve center i her body told her she was on fire once. Imperial torture was very effective even if it was only in the mind.

She felt a heaving, breaking feeling in her chest like something was tearing free and for a moment she thought maybe she was dying, and in that moment was almost hopeful. But the pain and the feeling ended and her senses came back to her. Grass cool under her, the sound of people and voices around her many strange new ones. Smells of trees and flowers and life and what was the sound of rhythmic flapping? A rasping trill she remembered from years past.

Leia blinked her eyes open to see a shadow circling over her in slow, lazy flaps, a tail just slicing the air in gentle swoops. "Stang..I did die."

"No." An amused voice called back, feminine if modulated and sibilant like a lizard might sound. "I'm Aste, your soul. Get up lazy bones, can't lie around all day, there is too much to do!"

Of course, her soul would be like that. Leia got to her feet and examined the little coastal thranta. She hadn't seen on since her home had been destroyed. It flapped and preened happily under the attention, turning it'd gleaming iridescent skin in the sun.

Drive-bun (No tag backs necessary but welcome)

[walkingballpit]

"Nants ingonyama bagithi baba! Sithi uhhmm ingonyama!" The rabbit may be but a few inches high, but she is currently perched on the shoulder of a six foot tall man and this is her Pride Rock Moment as she raises her tiny front paws towards .

Robbie looks apologetically at Leia, but his face is screaming how hard he is trying to not laugh.

Phil pays this no mind. "From the day we arrive on the planet and, blinking, step into the sun, there's more to see than can ever be seen! More to do than can ever be done!"

Rogue and the Do Not Touch bird

[just_rogue]

"Ah knew this was too good ta be true." The instant she started seeing things go wrong she was bracing for it, but seeing Remy fall was what made her charged forward. It was still hard to get out of the brick mode after that many years, when she'd taken missiles and worse head on what could a little power field really do?

As it turned out, it could do quite a lot actually.

A guttural scream tore from her, as a pain she'd never felt before pulled from inside her. Her mind briefly flashing back to that time Bobby had made her watch Alien in the mansion and the baby alien thing popped out of the man chest. She was never watching that again, distracting herself helped with the pain until it passed and she could breath again and her hand rubbing over the center of her chest proved her ribcage was still intact. Seemed like nothing really happened after all but a passing pain.

"Nothin' is a terrible name missy, best you use the one I came with, Hiram." A colorful bird flew around and landed on her shoulder, nibbling on her ear to make his point known.

"Yer, Hiram? A bird?"

"A bird and your soul, sort of a two for one deal."

"Well this is off to a great start." Rogue muttered, forcing herself up to her feet.

"Aint it though? Hey look over there! Some fool got hisself a beagle! Bet it plays fetch, lets go see!" And Hiram was off to flit around and spy on the others faster than she could catch him.

North

[bothbarrels]

North feels the sensation of the split before realizing it's going to happen, closing his eyes and breathing through the discomfort. He doesn't cry out or complain. He simply waits through it, and he opens his eyes again when it seems to be over.

And when he sees Randi, he knows—this animal is a part of him; the universe has chosen a penguin to symbolize everything he is to the world.

He chuckles slightly and puts a hand on the penguin's shoulder, patting gently. "Somehow I'm not surprised."

The penguin gives a nod. "I am happy to be with you," she says.

[ownperson]

South doesn't approach her brother, she just sort of... looks over at him from a little ways away, kind of hoping he doesn't even notice that. It's still up to him when they talk again. She still doesn't expect it to be any time soon.

There's this weird moment of— relief? Maybe? When she sees his daemon is absolutely nothing like hers, and, well, why would it be, right? They're too different. That's half the problem. But everyone's always weird about twins, so part of her almost expected...

But no. It's a Penguin. After seeing it, it only makes sense. Don't Penguins like— carry their young around, or something? Of course he'd get something like that. Of fucking course.

"You're comparing again," Anja says, in something between a hiss and a hum, and South glares at her out of the corner of her eye. It's not a question. Anja just... knows, because of course she knows, because she's her. "Stop it."

It's like having the little rational voice in the back of her head externalized and South snorts, dismissively, but Anja's her and Anja knows better.

So South adds: "That's cheap coming from the bit of me that won't even look at him."

Anja nestles her head more against South's throat, almost like she's hiding, and doesn't dignify her with a response, this time.