Dreaming in Detroit (a changeling RP)

"Call me Aish" they say. "And you?"

 

Switch gives a slow, vague motion, hand rotating a full 360 degrees, clicking once or twice. "The Dog is The Dog. It holds no lands nor titles. I don't understand?"

 

"Goose," he says. "Aish is a cool name."

He looks apologetically at Switch. "My strongest apologies," he says. It's also addressed to dog. "I've been in the human world so (relatively) long it makes it strange to remember what words mean elsewhere."

 

"Time doesn't make things easier to remember, here."

Switch considers, then tugs lightly on Dog's leash. "Dog. Explain. Speak? Put on The Skin."

 

The Dog sighs heavily, considering that. Then he shifts, magic smelling of yarrow as he stretches upward into a tall, shirtless man whose blond curls fall into his eyes. "Speak what?" he asks, head tilting.

 

"That's why I chose it," Aish says, without thanking him. There's keeping someone on their toes, and then there's being rude, after all. They shift to lean back into a more relaxed pose and smile slightly. "'Goose' is interesting. How'd you get a name like that?"

They look over at the Dog and his... person and tense up. "I don't care what form it's in, just keep that mutt on its leash."

 

"...Logan," Ophidian lies, following an elongated pause, devoid of expression. "And I am...fine. Yes...Just not used to this many people...I was instructed to come here, no? Yes."

 

The Dog regards Aish, then snaps his jaws thoughtfully, licking his chops in a way which would look much more at home on a wolfhound's face.

 

"You ever seen goose teeth?" Goose asks. It's a non-answer in the best way. "A long joke, mainly." He grins. "That's the problem with staying in your twenties forever." Which he knows answers the question even less, but no matter.

He notices Dog's person shape. "Hello," he says. "How are you people so tall." He makes a face. "You know human mouths aren't so threatening?" Well, the ones most people have in their faces, anyway.

 

The Dog shrugs. "The Cat knows that they would be very fun to chase," he says. "Man legs are not so good for running, but I would make do."

He offers Goose a smile, more like a doggy laugh. "Switch likes to be tall. Mine is natural."

 

Suddenly self-conscious of its many, many teeth, Ophidian puts a hand to its face, checking to make sure the glamour is still in effect. It is necessary to exercise greater caution as the time grows nearer to dawn. The back of its hand ripples almost imperceptibly.

 

"If you bite or lick me, mutt, I will tear out your tongue and feed it to you." Aish tells the Dog. "And if you try to chase me I will take you to the Shadow Roads and leave you there to freeze and suffocate."

 

Goose has to cover his mouth for a moment. "Neat," he finally manages to say.

Goose then turns to Logan, who is looking, to his eyes, somehow even twitchie. "Of course," he says. "And I assume as much. I'm not a mind reader, so I can't know why you're here any more than you can know why I'm here." His smile widens for just a moment. "What kind of fae are you?" he asks amicably. "I'm a fairy in the human sense, too." Well, he isn't full fae, of course, but the joke stands.

 

"The Dog is tall in the legs," Switch explains helpfully, then squint their eyes. "The Body is The Body and this one is Good."

They look to Aish. "...Yes. The Dog broke their word, so they must remain on The Lead Of Slowing Down So I Can Keep Up. It is the Agreement."

(( OPHIDIAN IS A CUTIE. ))

 

The Dog only seems encouraged by The Cat's prickly ire, grinning wide like he would be wagging his tail if he had one at the moment. Yes, good. The Cat is posturing, back arched and ready to hiss. Next comes the chase, yes?

He gives the Lead a grouchy look.

"It is the Agreement," he agrees. He'll have to remember this Cat's scent, so maybe he can chase it later. Or maybe there will be other things to chase.

 

Ophidian averts its gaze from Goose, too nervous to look him in the eye as it lies again. "Candela changeling," it states, almost quietly wishing that this were true, had it not been for the vocal objection of its daonine sidhe heritage in its mind. Ophidian begins to rub its hands uncomfortably, rocking back and forth. It must stay focused, not get sidetracked by internal squabbling.

 

“Call me Owen.” Sorrel glances sidelong at Logan but says nothing. When people start rocking back and forth, asking them about it is asking for trouble. No thank you.

They also give Dog a slightly wary look. Please no chasing.

 

Cats and dogs, Emer thinks with resignation. Her grand hopes for restitution are going to fall victim to a cartoonish trope. "I asked the pixies," she says, cutting through the cross-talk without raising her voice, "to find anyone who would have a reason to help me."

She doesn't drop her illusions, because they'd be too much work to put up again, and she doesn't need the headache from magic-burn. It's obvious enough what she is, though: her magic is around her, and the vivid blue of Tylwyth Teg eyes can only be hidden so much. "You probably all know that there's goblin fruit on the streets. Not just in the Summerlands, but here, and changelings have been dying. I'm not sure how many, but my - my friend," she says, acknowledging to herself for the first time that Sandra was significantly more than just a tolerated and cordial coworker. "Sandra was one of them. I don't think the King is going to do anything, even if a mere changeling could get an audience. So I think we should try to get rid of it ourselves."

 

Ophidian pauses, taking in the new information. What reason would Father have to help with this? If the King isn’t interested, there is nothing for Father to gain by having Ophidian do this. But despite this, here was Ophidian, standing next to a dumpster behind a Denny’s with several unusual strangers, preparing to solve a mystery no one else has any interest in solving.

“Well...do you have any idea what we should be looking for...then? ...A lead would be helpful, yes? Maybe?? Yes.”

 

The Dog cocks his head, thinking about that. "... dying? Why would they die?"

He trades a look with Switch. "The fruit is... like weed. Mostly harmless. Right?"

He's never tried it himself, but... mmh. Switch has, and it never seems to have hurt them.