Ahuyyak?? [closed]

[bluesuit_handy]

Andrew stretches and turns over, his back popping and his movements inadvertently pulling the covers off James's side of the bed and wrapping them around him. Fortunately, when he reaches over he finds the other side of the bed empty, so he hasn't actually stolen them from James. Wait, fortunately? Waking up without James there isn't fortunate, even if James sleeps so little that it's a fairly common occurrence. With a grunt to himself, Andrew sits up and rubs sleep out of his eyes. Now that he's awake, he realizes he can hear the shower running. Hasn't been that long since James got up, then.

Nothing to do, really, but wait. Blearily, he leans over to grab the remote off the side table before flopping across the foot of the bed and clicking the TV on and flipping to the local PBS. This time of morning, he should still be able to catch the second half of Sesame Street.

For a few seconds, he thinks he's having trouble hearing the television. As he squints and listens hard, though, that turns into the thought that maybe he's on the wrong channel -- or maybe they're having a skit in another language. It doesn't sound like any language he's ever heard, though, and when Elmo's segment ends and Big Bird has a chat with some kids in the alley, they're all making the same unrecognizable sounds. Worried now, Andrew takes a drastic measure and changes the channel, seeking out a news station. The hosts of the morning chat/news show chuckle and gesture over something they've been shown.

"Ahuyyak?" asks one. His cohost laughs and replies, "Nuunuunuu! Hrebhrahrah, usi bo."

"...James?" calls Andrew, eyes still fixed on the screen.

Four Legs Good [Open to Multiple]

[wildmage_daine]

Daine trots through the park as a shaggy wolfhound, with Sarge and Molly at her side. It was probably cowardly of her to take a shape and flee the base, but not being able to talk to anyone was driving her mad. At least she can sort of talk to the People, though all she gets from them are feelings and impressions instead of words. Still, animals can get far more across without words than any two-legger can, and being in this shape, with her two canine friends beside her, feels enough like Pack to bring her some comfort.

She's unaware of the gathering at the fountain, but even if she knew about it, it would take some coaxing to get her there. Folk aren't often kind to strays, and she's not about to take human shape. At least when she's in an animal shape, not being able to talk to two-leggers feels normal.

Business as Usual

[edgar_sawtelle]

Edgar doesn't realize anything is wrong at first.

He's been spending a lot of time in the base, and when he wakes up early that morning he has already decided to get out into the park for a while. It's barely light out when he leaves, and he doesn't pass anyone in the hallways. It's cold, so the park is empty too, aside from the few dedicated joggers here and there. But they stick to the paths and Edgar prefers to lose himself in the wooded areas. If he doesn't think about it too much, he can almost believe he's back home there.

Edgar sits on a stump and watches the sun rise while Almondine trots around, smelling every tree she can find and darting after things Edgar can't see. The sun is caught in the tops of the trees when she finally struts over to him, looking very satisfied with herself. He smiles and stands, clapping a hand to his leg to call her on as he heads back to the base.

It's once they're back in their quarters that Edgar realizes something's amiss. Having filled Almondine's water dish, he sits on his bed and grabs one of the books he's borrowed from the library from the table by the bed. He opens the book to where he had marked his place with a folded piece of paper and settles in to read a little before a late breakfast.

It takes him a few seconds to realize that he can't read what's written in the book. Frowning, he flips through the pages. They're all written in some sort of gibberish. He checks the spine to be sure it's the same book he was reading before, but there's no help there; whatever's written on the spine is just as unintelligible. Slightly concerned, Edgar checks the other two books he borrowed. They're also indecipherable, as is the small stack of scrap paper - used for communicating - he's collected over his time on the base, and everything in the small notebook he's been using as a sort of journal.

Almondine can clearly sense his growing confusion and she noses his arm. Edgar strokes her head, then signs to her: /I can't read./ Or he tries to. But the shapes his hands form don't make any sense, the motions they follow meaning nothing to him.

Edgar stares at his hands as if they belong to a stranger. He can feel his breath quickening, panic rising inside him, and he isn't sure whether he's going to collapse into the desk chair or start running.

He clasps his hands together so hard they hurt.