bigapplesauce | HANDYSPLOSION [open to multiple]

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HANDYSPLOSION [open to multiple]

Andrew is snooping, but he's not getting very far with it. The trouble with absurdly powerful, government-sanctioned entities is that getting inside the base of such an organization tends to be a bit more complicated than showing up with a forged Health and Safety ID card. Of course, he could probably get inside very easily if he simply went up to the front doors and announced himself, but somehow he doubts he'd be likely to come back out without making a grand production of escaping, and he doesn't want to be too late coming home and make James worry.

The other trouble with Romac is that they're too smart to have anything interesting going on outside. After quite a bit of loitering -- more loitering than is probably wise -- all Andrew's seen is fairly ordinary people going in and out of the building. Disgruntled at their failure to be even the least bit interesting, Andrew finally gives up in disgust and decides to walk to the rebel base in order to say hello to a few people and use their private library.

He makes it less than halfway to the park before disaster strikes. Later, Handrew will be mortally embarrassed that the crisis didn't come about because some Romac agent spotted him and decided to make trouble, or because he had to run to intercept an alien, or even because someone got it in their head to mug him. No, this disaster occurs simply because neither Andrew nor a certain speeding taxi driver happens to be looking in the right direction at the right time. As the meta-crisis steps out into the intersection of Lexington and 59th (against right of way, if he'd bothered to notice), there's a deafening screech, an impact, and Andrew quite unexpectedly shatters.

The reflex to use his power when surprised likely saves his life. Twelve tiny Andrews are scattered across the road a moment later, all of them stunned to one degree or another. As they recover and realize what's happened -- and hear the yells of a few people who saw -- they all take the same course of action:

Run.

Unfortunately, very few of them run in the same direction. There's no plan or pattern to it, and very quickly the Andrews scatter to the four winds -- or at least to the four corners of the intersection. There are a few shouts (even New Yorkers tend to notice when someone explodes next to them) and one person even stoops and tries to grab one of the four-inch-tall Andrews, but he has quite a bit of experience in running for cover.

[OOC: Let me know where you want to encounter one or more Andrews, and I will write up an explanation of how he got there. The accident occurred at E. 59th St. and Lexington Ave. (the game map might help you here), and the Andrews have gone in every direction. Some Andrews will take advantage of the nearby subway entrances; depending where he enters he could do as he intends and go northwest, or he could get on the wrong train and go northeast, which would take him past Romac housing. Really, anything is possible -- though he's trying to get to either the Rebels or the TARDIS, he could get lost in any direction, or stay stranded near the intersection. Just write a tag indicating where your character encounters an Andrew and I'll work it out (or you can PM me or ping me on AIM if you want to hammer it out together). He'll be staying in twelfths, since merging into sixths would make him a foot and a half high, meaning he'd be still too small to get around without trouble but too big to go unnoticed. There might be multiple Andrews traveling together, so let me know if you want two of them.]

UPDATE, November 14: Nine Andrews are accounted for so far. One Andrew each currently reserved for Lucy, Spike, and Topher, meaning no more Andrews are available.

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Andrew's breath catches, and he sits up to look around sharply. That voice was close by, and he's not ready to dismiss it as someone on the sidewalk just happening to say his name to someone else.

"Who's there?" he asks, voice hushed but urgent.

Secret flows over to the bush that Andrew's hiding under, but stops about a foot away. A little arm tendril is extended and tentatively waved. "Secret," the darking says. "Friend! Came with wildmage." It lifts a blobby head and tilts it a little to one side. "Help Andrew to TARDIS?"

Andrew lets out a breathless little chuckle, misunderstanding the first part of the answer. "You can tell me," he says, wondering if he's become delirious. It would explain the talking blob right when he most wanted someone to come help him (though not why it's a talking blob instead of him imagining someone more conventional). "I can keep a secret."

If Daine's really here, though....

"Did I make it there?" he asks. "She's out looking for me?"

Secret tilts its little head to the other side, confused. "TARDIS tries," it offers. "Andrews too tiny. Have to... re-cal-ib-rate," it finishes, sounding pleased that it remembered the word.

Daine, meanwhile, has decided it's about time she joined them. Between the greenery and an awning, there's plenty to block the view of her descent to the ground - and her actual presence on said ground. She carefully picks her way over to Andrew's shrub, but halts behind the darking so she doesn't spook him. She gives him a concerned look - or as concerned a look as a hawk can manage - and lets out a quiet cheep.

"Wildmage," Secret says, pointing helpfully at Daine.

Edited 2013-10-31 04:39 (UTC)

"Too tiny?" Andrew gapes at Secret, dread settling in his gut. Rescue really wasn't coming, then; it seems he's only been spotted by chance. He was counting on the TARDIS searching him out as soon as one of him reached her, and imagines other Andrews may be as well.

"Daine," he confirms when the hawk comes down to ground level, peering back at her. It had better be Daine. If it's not, there's not a lot he'll be able to do about it. "Care to explain?" he asks with a glance at Secret, though he's not expecting an answer.

Daine nods once to reassure him, then settles against the ground so her talons are hidden. At his question, she lifts her wings in a shrug. Priorities, Andrew... he might not look too bad just sitting there, but he's still holding himself in such a way that she can still tell he's injured himself. Presumably that can be fixed at the TARDIS, whether by merging with one of his fellows (and there's a question - what happens to all their bumps and bruises when they recombine?) or just taking advantage of whatever healing properties the TARDIS has tucked away. Daine hasn't seen the medical bay, but she's guessing the TARDIS and the Doctor have fancier ways of dealing with injuries than splints and poultices.

"Can't talk," Secret provides. "Too much changing. Wildmage gets tired." It flows a little closer to Andrew, then bobs up and down, looking like nothing so much as an overexcited child trying to get their teacher's attention from the back of the room. "Go to TARDIS now?" it asks hopefully. "Secret helps! No falling!"

Andrew remembers coming back from his first split with a sore neck after the Master portion of James had held one of him up by it. He doesn't like to remember, but he doesn't expect merging to cure all his ills...though at least being in a bigger body will make him easier to treat.

He sniffs in a big breath and lets it out in a sigh. "You'll explain later," he surmises, smiling at some private joke as he waves a hand at her. To Secret he raises an eyebrow, then nods. "Go to TARDIS," he agrees. "But I can't move my leg." It's only a slight exaggeration at this point.

Daine nods again, pleased he's caught on so quickly. The state of his leg is less pleasing, and she shuffles forward a foot so he'll have less ground to cover before reaching her.

"Secret helps," the darking says, stretching out an arm toward Andrew to offer its support. Daine isn't sure just how much additional weight Secret can take on, but then again, she knows as little about darkings as she can get away with due to the uncomfortable fact that they're from her future. Anyway, it's not as if Andrew is all the large or heavy in his current state. She can probably carry him on her back without trouble so long as he doesn't slide around too much, and Secret can stop that from happening... assuming Andrew doesn't balk at being secured.

Crouching as low to the ground as she can, she opens her wings a little and gives Andrew an inquiring look, wondering what he thinks of the idea of riding on her back. It won't be too comfortable, but if he's hurt already, it's a moot point. At least flying will get him to the TARDIS soonest.

Andrew braces against the nearest branch of the shrub and hauls himself to an upright position with Secret's help. He totters there for a few seconds, gritting his teeth at the fresh wave of pain from his side and leg. Looking up, he sees Daine crouching in front of him and puts two and two together. "My chariot awaits," he mutters to himself under his breath. Out loud, he says, "I appreciate it, Daine, but my grip isn't as good as that. You'd probably have better luck holding me in your feet, if you can manage it without poking any holes."

Irony.

But she might get a foot cramp, and then where would they be?

Daine shakes her head. She'll appreciate the irony later; for now, her concern is that he'll experience more jostling if she carries him in her talons than he would if he got on her back.

"No falling," Secret says, sounding just a bit indignant at the very idea that it would allow such a thing. "Secret holds on, keeps Andrew still."

Blink. Andrew looks at the little blobby thing half propping him up, then up at Daine's back again. Riding on top of a hawk does sound significantly more appealing than riding in her talons, but it hadn't occurred to him to rely on this...whatever Secret is. After a moment, he sucks in a breath and nods. Best not hesitate; he doesn't want to think twice, and the longer they stay on the ground, the more likely Daine will be noticed. "Help me up, then," he says to Secret ~~failing his diplomacy check.~~

Daine does her best to hold still as Secret slides up onto her back and extends two tendrils to help haul Andrew up beside it. It's hard not to squirm as two more tendrils thread their way beneath her feathers and around her neck, anchoring the darking in place. She turns her head to watch as Secret stretches itself into a sort of harness, wrapping itself as snugly around Andrew as it has around her. She's rather impressed; even if she banks sharply, Andrew should stay put. And her back must be a good deal more comfortable than her talons would be, regardless of how carefully she carried him.

Once it feels like Andrew's got himself situated, she rises to her feet and lets out a short cheep. Ready?

It's fortunate that Secret turns out to be strong enough to shift Andrew's weight, as he isn't able to do much in the way of climbing. Anyway, Daine would probably lose a few feathers if he had to climb, so this way is better for everyone involved. Unwarned, he might have been bothered by the way Secret ties him down, but under present circumstances he finds it reassuring, like a seat belt.

"Ready when you are," he replies, making what seems like a safe assumption regarding the meaning of that cheep.

Taking off is the most awkward part, if only because it involves a lot of heavy flapping and Andrew's well-placed to feel it. She aims for the top of the awning, first, wanting to get a little height before she starts out over the traffic. A few two-leggers throw surprised glances her way when she appears, but she's fairly confident that none of them are in a position to see Andrew (unless they're peering out of the windows above her, and isn't that a pleasant thought). Resisting the urge to ruffle her feathers, she throws another glance over her shoulder to make sure Andrew's okay, then opens her wings, launches herself off the awning and flies out over the street. The air isn't very sweet, but it's warm, and it isn't long before she hardly has to flap at all, but can just ride the thermals up and over toward the park.

She takes it slow (for a hawk), mostly out of mindfulness of Andrew's injuries and the assumption that slower speeds will mean less wind buffeting him about, if nothing else. But it's also a rare view of the city; he might as well have a little time to enjoy it.

At first, the impression Andrew gets is that this is not going to be even the slightest bit more comfortable or less painful than if she had carried him in her talons. With all the muscles and feathers shifting under him, it's a wonder even Secret can keep him from sliding about and losing his position, and more than once he grunts in pain when she jostles his injured leg or when Secret puts a little too much pressure on his side. He grits his teeth and braces himself for the second takeoff, probably making it worse by tensing his body. He's getting no enjoyment out of this whatsoever, only the pain of motion and the sickening feeling of lurching through the air.

At least, that's true until her flight evens out and she stops flapping. Andrew opens his eyes against the wind, peering over her shoulder as they rise on a thermal. It doesn't hurt too badly now (at least, no more than when he was sitting on the ground), and his breath catches at the view as they zip between buildings at what seems like tremendous speed.

Daine works her way northeast above Park Avenue, and catches a particularly fine updraft when she hits 65th. Not wanting to waste it, she rides it almost straight up for a good hundred feet, her only movements being subtle adjustments of wing and tail feathers.

"Fun!" she hears Secret say, though Mithros only knows where the little thing's mouth is currently located, stretched as it is across her back. She glances over her shoulder at Andrew as they rise, pleased to see that he's still well-secured - and that he seems to be enjoying himself (as much as he can, given the circumstances).

She continues to follow Park for a few more blocks. It's a wide avenue that gets plenty of sun, and the more height she gains over the city, the less flapping she'll have to do over the park. By the time they reach 72nd, they're well above the roofs of the buildings below, and she banks toward Central Park with a screech of pleasure. It's hard not to love flying, and it doesn't matter if anyone hears her; she'd just be a blot against the sky to any observers below.

Edited 2013-11-02 21:49 (UTC)

It's a good thing he's never fallen to his death and thereby been given a reason to have a terror of heights. Oh, wait.

In all actuality, Andrew isn't so very frightened, though of course there's the natural human (and, alright, Time Lord) tendency to imagine himself plummeting to his death from the heights they reach. With Secret strapping him down and Daine between him and the open air, though, it's not so bad -- like riding a reverse hang glider, if hang gliders were sapient.

"Do you do this often?" he calls over the roar of the wind. He's got his hands wrapped around a couple of feathers without really meaning to do so, probably pulling or pinching them uncomfortably.

She's noticed the pinching, but there's nothing she can really do about it. Besides, as far as discomfort goes, he's surely in worse shape than she is, pinched feathers and all.

Nodding her head would muck with her flight (assuming Andrew could even see the gesture), so she settles for blinking at him over her shoulder and letting out a softer screech of confirmation. She doesn't spend as much time on the wing as she could - or as much as she did when she was newly arrived and still getting her bearings - but she still fits in a few flights per week. She has to keep in practice, if nothing else, and it really is the least obnoxious way to explore the city.

It's just a pity Andrew's hurt. Maybe once he's all patched up, they can try this again.

Maybe Andrew can introduce her to Aglet once he's met up with himself and knows who Aglet is. She could start giving tours as a regular thing.

And alright, talking while she's a hawk doesn't work as well as it might. Grinning, Andrew winks back at her, though his expression contorts into a grimace for a second as something shifts and puts pressure on the leg. Squirming into a less painful position, he lays his head down on her back to relieve the crick he's getting in his neck and just gazes down at the part of the city he can see from that vantage point. "You'd think I could have stayed around and helped me," he grouses, already on to a different topic.

Introducing Aglet to a hawk (who, when she isn't a hawk, is a Bean): what could possibly go wrong?

She's pleased to see him enjoying himself a bit, though the grimace is a reminder of her real goal: to get him to the TARDIS as quickly as possible without doing him any more damage. To that end, she turns her head forward and focuses on her flying. She's high enough now that it shouldn't be too difficult to just glide to the TARDIS, and getting there with as little flapping as possible will be an interesting challenge. She rides the air currents over the park, slowly losing altitude as she approaches the Ramble.

With Daine preoccupied, Secret decides to answer Andrew's comment. "Hit by car - scary," the darking opines from somewhere along its stretched body.

"I've been through worse," argues Andrew, who really has. Or at least, the Doctor has. What's getting hit by a mere car when he's been quite deliberately tortured on multiple occasions? He finally notices the way he's practically pulling Daine's feathers out and carefully loosens his grip, his fingers still ready to clench but hopefully resting lighter now.

"Still scary," Secret says reasonably. "Tiny can be scary, too." It can sympathize.

It's a pleasant surprise when Andrew loosens his grip a bit; she hadn't really been counting on it. And there's still a good chance he's going to end up grabbing her again, especially when they come in for a landing. She slowly spirals over the Ramble and the lake until she's just skimming over the treetops, then heads for the TARDIS. Once she spots the blue paint through the leaves, she slows into a near hover, wings and tail shifting subtly to hold her position. Carefully, carefully...

Andrew keeps on watching, not wanting to admit that he's scared of being so little even to sympathetic ears. He's the Doctor -- or alright, he's Andrew -- and he's not afraid of anything so pedestrian as a bit of shrinking. He lifts his head as the ground comes nearer, and heaves a heavy sigh of relief when he spots the TARDIS.

"Careful," he says needlessly, then realizes he's pulling her feathers again and makes a conscious effort to stop. Everything seems so fast at this scale.

Yes, yes - no need to fret. Daine drifts to the ground like a leaf, though she does have to do some flapping at the last moment to stop herself from landing too heavily. Her feet sink into last autumn's leaves, and she folds her wings neatly. See? That wasn't so bad.

She starts walking toward the ship's doors before Secret or Andrew can make any moves toward getting the little man down off of her back. His leg is still hurt, so she might as well carry him right in. Once again, it only takes a light nudge with her beak to open the door, and she steps inside, taking extra care with her footing because of her passenger. Flying up to the console would be quicker, but it would also involve a lot of flapping. Better to walk, if it'll jostle Andrew less.

The good: the lack of flapping is easier on his aching body. The bad: it still hurts anyway. The ugly: Andrew is going to be seasick if he has to sit on a ~~waddling~~ walking hawk for too long.

"Daine?" Were she human, the Andrew standing up on the seat to see who's just come in would come up about to her knee. "Did you find another one?" Hurriedly, he hops down from his hard-won perch, stumbles, and comes trotting down to meet her.

Edited 2013-11-08 03:25 (UTC)

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