ageplot morning!

[iwhinny4dragons]

Sybil had been a restless sleeper when she was young, when all she'd done was posture about and go to school where you were taught to posture about. She tried to do more, of course,but no one made it easy for her; certainly no one ever told her how she might go about doing it, and so she'd struggled (very quietly and very politely), and been a

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[sir_samuel]

Something was not quite right. That much Vimes knew as soon as he began to barely drift into consciousness. It was a good trait for a copper, to know immediately when something was wrong, to feel a shift in the air when something changed. When suddenly someone was walking behind you where there had been no one, when a shadow you had been watching shifting. Little changes that could make your night a whole lot more interesting.

This was a bit more than a little change, and yet he could not quite tell what had happened. His body felt wrong- no, unfamiliar. But that wasn’t even it. No, it just felt... vaguely familiar. He slowly opened his eyes, just a little worried as to what he would see.

But all there was was a familiar sheet and the wall of the Vimes room in the Compound. He slowly turned over.

And that’s when things got interesting.

He sat up sharply. “What the bloody hell?”

[iwhinny4dragons]

Sybil stretched a little, regrettably awake now, and blinked a few times from underneath a few wayward, sleep-mussed curls. The wig was so warm in the climate, and she wasn't getting it singed off regularly- or at all- that her hair, after much hemming and hawing and consideration, had begun to grow back in. It did slowly, and so she still wore the wig, but young and fresh in the morning she had a charming little bob of curls. Further awkwardness as far as her 16 year old self would have been concerned. Grown Sybil with a 16 year old frame couldn't have been bothered. And wasn't. She smiled and said, "Morning, dear," and then turned onto her side, tucking her hands beneath her cheek, leg half curling.

She blinked a few more times and looked up at him, eyes narrowing. Then they widened considerably. She sat up herself, rather quickly.

"...Oh my."

[sir_samuel]

"...Sybil?"

Of course it was Sybil. I did look like Sybil - well, after a fashion and minus a few decades. And then there was the awkward fact that Vimes had, in fact, met a sixteen-year-old Lady Sybil Ramkin, even if the circumstances had meant that he had not gotten much of a chance to study what she looked like.

Still, it was the sort of thing that felt like it needed confirmation.

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Of course, Sam, who else could it be?" she said reasonably and- and here's where the trouble really was- blushed.

"I assume that's you, as well."

[sir_samuel]

"Well, yes, but..." He stopped. Had Sybil just blushed?

Dismissing that as a nigh-on impossibility, Vimes slowly held up a hand in front of his face. He slowly turned it over, staring at it.

"Good gods, it's happened to me, too."

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Er, yes dear, I could have pointed that out," she said, and pushed the covers of their bed back. Her nightgown had somehow refitted itself to her present state, which was thoughtful of it, although on a stacked sixteen year old girl it was a very different sort of affair.

"This is entirely strange."

[sir_samuel]

"Well. Yes. Sorry if being-" Vimes paused a frowned - how old was he now? He needed to find a mirror, "a bloody teenager is a bit much to take it."

He slumped down against the headboard. "Strange is a word for it." But then he sat up straight again as another painful truth hit him. "Oh good bloody hell, people are going to see me like this."

[iwhinny4dragons]

"I should think that would unavoidalbe," Sypbil said with sympathy, reaching over to touch his shoulder.

She blushed again. Her eyes widened, at herself, and she withdraw the hand.

"Oh, well that's silly."

[sir_samuel]

"I could hide?" Vimes suggested, but even as he said it, it didn't sound like much of a possibility. And Sybil probably wouldn't let him.

Oh gods, she'd blushed again. Somehow, this seemed even more dire than it would have the day before - not that his wife would have been blushing the day before in the first place. His eyes went a little wide. "Sybil?"

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Yes, Sam," she said, brushing some hair away from her face with her fingertips, looking down and over herself, then looking back at Sam.

[sir_samuel]

He frowned a bit. "Um. You blushed."

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Yes, I realize," she sighed, frowning a little to herself, but the expression cleared away.

"You're so young," she pointed out, smiling.

[sir_samuel]

It was Sam's turn to blush - utterly unforgivable of his younger psyche, if you asked him. He scowled in an attempt to counter it.

"So're you," he pointed out in a mumble.

[iwhinny4dragons]

She thoughtfully did not point out that he had blushed. She did lean over and kiss his cheek, somewhere in the vicinity of the corner of his mouth.

"Well, it could be worse!" She said brightly. In her usual form, it would have been a boom.

[sir_samuel]

He blushed again when she kissed him. This was getting rather ridiculous now - this was his wife for gods' sake.

"It could be better," he muttered. True, he still hadn't looked in the mirror, but Vimes remembered being a rather scrawny and pathetic looking teenager. There were a number of people he wasn't looking forward to facing like this.

"Wonder who else it happened to."

[iwhinny4dragons]

"Probably quite a number of people," she said, slipping out to bed and padding over to where she kept her dress hung up. There was absolutely no way it was going to fit. The shoulder of her nightgown slipped down.

"Oh, dear, it seems I'll have to go to the clothes box." She went to the little cot where Young Sam slept, and smiled softly.

"Well, not everyone's been affected." She reached down to adjust his arm where it lay across his stuffed dragon.