(Untitled)

[floozyfacade]

If I'm completely honest, I kinda hoped that, when I woke up this morning, it would be gone. And by 'it,' I mean the twenty or so years I seem to have gained overnight. I mean, nothing against, you know, aging or older women, I'm sure I'd love to be almost forty when I'm… almost forty, but right now? I'm really keen on sticking with this whole

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[halfscarlet]

"You're not the only one it's been mocking," Billy piped up from his seat on one of the couches. It was still different, being stuck like a girl (and he definitely hadn't acquired any dress sense, not with the outfit he was currently in), but at least he wasn't a kid, or aged the way Erik did.

He held up a stack of magazines for show, ones he'd finally collected (Cosmo, Elle and the like) after giving in to the bookshelf. The quizzes were kind of interesting, at least.

[floozyfacade]

[halfscarlet]

It made Billy laugh, which he cut short when he realized how high pitched and different it sounded. Everything was off, from the way he walked to the weight of the hair on his head and his brand new breasts, all of it. A day with his new body hadn't made anything easier.

"I don't get it," he said, referring to yet another quiz he was scanning. "These quizzes are stupid, but I can't stop taking them. Is a normal girl thing to do? Is that why there are so many women's magazines?"

[floozyfacade]

[psychoenough]

Speaking to - and occasionally yelling at - the bookshelf is a transgression Annie herself is not innocent of. In fact, she is something of a repeat offender, as is the shelf itself and the twisted sense of humor with which it treats her. As always, however, some risks are necessary, and in the absence of Google, Annie has no other way of digging up dirt on a certain young, self-made billionaire whom she may or may not be dating. (Did he have a girlfriend before coming here? Does he have one now, in her day and age? Is he a notorious womanizer? Her mind won't stop churning out question after question, making consulting the books in hope of answers her best and only course of action.) "Excuse me," she says, standing just behind the other woman. "Would you mind if I just barged in for a moment?"

[floozyfacade]

[psychoenough]

Rather than doing as invited and joining the woman at the bookshelf, Annie remains glued in place, jaw wide open as she takes it all in - and jumps once the realization sinks in. In even less flattering news, a yelp simultaneously escapes her throat, as if she's just seen a ghost, except that ghost seems to recognize her. The familiar, low and raspy quality to her voice is Annie's first clue, the hair, the eyes, and general resemblance the second. She doesn't live under a rock, she's aware that something strange is afoot, but this is the first time she has dealt with it directly. "Olive?"

[floozyfacade]

[bothgodown]

Things had become incredibly difficult for that past day and a bit. Miranda knows magic, understood that it could be strange and temperamental, but this seemed to be quite wrong. It is the sort of trickery that Ariel would play out, causing gentle folk to change form as one might do to the wicked. It had no place in this world, and Miranda is ready for it to go. What if the next time everything goes cross, she is not exempt?

No, no, that would not do. Her lips are pursed as she approaches the bookshelf, her dissatisfaction is plain on her face. Tapping her fingers against the wood of a nearby shelf, she looked down at the redhaired woman beside her. "Has everything gone cross for thou as well?"

[floozyfacade]

[bothgodown]

Confusion crosses her face. This woman speaks to her as if she knows her and Miranda knows that she has never before seen such a face. Her brows knit together, she shakes her head slightly as she tries to better understand the woman.

"No, I meant that the world has gone most cock-eyed in its expression," she explains before the pieces start to fit together. She does not give voice to what she believes might be a truth under the red hair and familiar expression. "Are you not your age much like the rest?"

[floozyfacade]

"Ohhh, gotcha," Olive says, nodding. Cross. Cross-eyed, cock-eyed, confused. I don't know if it's this weekend and aging - which I really hope it's not, because, God, would that be horrifying to know - or I'm seriously just slow. There's something about the way she talks that's like music, except that sometimes the dance is one I don't know. She hedges a moment, not knowing if she wants to answer honestly or not. The idea of pretending to be someone else is so appealing, less to hide than because she feels like it would be fun, but she can't bring herself to lie to her friends. Especially not given the last time. "No. No, I'm not. I'm... a lot older."