(no subject)
Tonight in the bar, there are a couple of small androgynous people in sarongs with a book. It's a charming scene, really -- father (or mother? It's hard to tell by looking) and child (adult child, granted, and son or daughter is anyone's guess), using a colorful book acquired from Bar to identify the different animals running around, doing their best to pronounce their names.
"Dog," says Sorve, the younger, with certainty. They've gotten good at that one. He looks around and points, and Therem flips through the book.
"Rion," he declares. "Like a big cat."
"Rion. Cat." Sorve repeats them diligently, and together they recite he ones they've already learned. "Rabbit. Raccoon. Ferret. Bear. Worf. Skwerr." (Neither of them can quite manage a fair pronounciation of squirrel.) "Mouse. Owr. Chirp-monk..."
And then, rather suddenly, there is one of those non-sounds that accompanies a sudden magical shift. Therem, nonplussed, scoops up his transformed child in one arm and flips through the book.
"Otter," he reads thoughtfully.
Sorve pours himself out of his father's arms and onto the table. He walks in an experimental circle, seeming to ty to catch his own tail. Therem smiles. "What is it like?"
Sorve stops, tumbling over himself, then sits up on his back paws and tilts his head thoughtfully. He moves his mouth in squeaks and cheeps for a few moments before working out how to speak.
"Furry," answers the young lord, pawing at his own belly and twisting to look over his shoulders to his back and tail. "Do you suppose these changes are random?"
Therem shakes his head. "Some wizardry gone wrong, I expect. There is no harm done?" He eyes his otter-child with concern.
"None," Sorve assures him. "Everything seems much larger, though. And smells are more vivid."
The two continue in this manner, discussing with surprising detail the experience of Sorve's change.
So. Come join them!
"Dog," says Sorve, the younger, with certainty. They've gotten good at that one. He looks around and points, and Therem flips through the book.
"Rion," he declares. "Like a big cat."
"Rion. Cat." Sorve repeats them diligently, and together they recite he ones they've already learned. "Rabbit. Raccoon. Ferret. Bear. Worf. Skwerr." (Neither of them can quite manage a fair pronounciation of squirrel.) "Mouse. Owr. Chirp-monk..."
And then, rather suddenly, there is one of those non-sounds that accompanies a sudden magical shift. Therem, nonplussed, scoops up his transformed child in one arm and flips through the book.
"Otter," he reads thoughtfully.
Sorve pours himself out of his father's arms and onto the table. He walks in an experimental circle, seeming to ty to catch his own tail. Therem smiles. "What is it like?"
Sorve stops, tumbling over himself, then sits up on his back paws and tilts his head thoughtfully. He moves his mouth in squeaks and cheeps for a few moments before working out how to speak.
"Furry," answers the young lord, pawing at his own belly and twisting to look over his shoulders to his back and tail. "Do you suppose these changes are random?"
Therem shakes his head. "Some wizardry gone wrong, I expect. There is no harm done?" He eyes his otter-child with concern.
"None," Sorve assures him. "Everything seems much larger, though. And smells are more vivid."
The two continue in this manner, discussing with surprising detail the experience of Sorve's change.
So. Come join them!