*can't be bothered with the fancy stuff, so just clicks fingers and every animal he can reach will suddenly be human-shaped*

Typist: It'll wear off or not at typists' discretion. Some may have to be reversed by a godthing.

*appears as suddenly as if a person has just struck out a match* Do? *looks around warily* Rosencrantz? ...Guildenstern? Where's he gone off to?

*typist: Long time no see, huh? Guildenstern's back, with a new typist. Here's hoping I don't screw it up too bad*

She is far from extraordinary. A young girl in sweater and jeans, about twelve years of age, with short brown hair and a slightly befuddled expression. At first it seems as if she is not all there--as if a dream, not flesh and blood--and then she blinks and glances about, eyes frightened. From a thin, glittering chain clenched tightly in her fist ( Read more... )

He'd be the first to admit that he is just a rat, because no one in their right mind could want to be anything else. Looking at him, all one would see is a large black rat, of the common house type -- and of course a mansion this big must have rats, so his appearance can't be all that surprising. But he is no ordinary rat, not at all. He is Rattus ( Read more... )