bigapplesauce | [open] Toto, I don't think we're on Hedenex anymore....

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[open] Toto, I don't think we're on Hedenex anymore....

It's been so good to stretch his legs again after so long cooped up on the ship. Andrew loves traveling, of course, and he loves spending time with James and the dogs, but his tolerance for monotonous space journeys is diminishing rather than growing. Their first journey out from Earth was the longest, of course, since they had to reach a jump node before they could travel from world to world in a matter of weeks rather than months, but somehow just a week stuck in a space the size of a largish flat is almost unbearable to him now. If he had to do that longer journey again, he might go mad.

Despite his enthusiasm, there's only so much running about (much of it literal) he can do before he tires out. Hedenex is a friendly sort of planet, with more than a few things to do and see, but just now he's tucked back up in bed in the spaceship he shares with James, their dogs curled up nearby as if watching to make sure he doesn't go off again without them when he wakes up.

His sleep is troubled by dreams that are less bad, necessarily, than they are weird. He's in the midst of grudgingly assembling a floral arrangement under the watchful eye of a robot servant belonging to a version of the Master he hasn't seen in centuries when a chill wind suddenly blows through the beach house where he and Abraham Lincoln have been imprisoned together. He shivers in both the dream and in reality, shifting uncomfortably on the hard red surface of the bleachers that make up the roof of the Times Square TKTS booth. He's wrapped up surprisingly well for someone who was just taken away from his cozy bed and blankets, as he tends to layer up even when he goes to bed, but a fleece onesie with a hoodie over the top half and socks on under the enclosed feet is still not enough. At least he'll look dashing in that yellow ducky-themed print?

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Daine nods, tail wagging. She feels a bit better about taking him inside now that he's asked.

The light changes, and she heads across the street, the dogs still keeping close to her and Andrew. Her hackles go up a bit as she passes the cars, but she doesn't break her stride. The dogs, wary of the cars but less upset by them than she is, ask if she's all right, and she reassures them until they've reached the other side of the street.

Andrew's not bothered by cars in the slightest, of course -- but he does notice that his guide is on edge. "What is it?" he asks, looking around for signs of danger. Apart from the hackles, though, her body language doesn't seem all that tense or guarded.

His feet are starting to really hurt from walking so long on concrete without proper support, and he hopes he's right in thinking she's taking him inside somewhere now. He keeps his pace as steady as he can, though the ache from his feet and the cold is getting more and more pronounced.

Daine glances up at him a bit sheepishly and wags her tail, sorry to have worried him. They're not in any trouble, she just really doesn't like cars.

She leads him to the subway entrance and heads down the stairs, looking up at Andrew to make sure he's all right. He hasn't seemed all that phased by anything he's seen so far, but she doesn't want to assume he'll be fine with everything.

"That doesn't tell me much," he tells her, laughing through chattering teeth. Maybe he should have sought out clothing first rather than last, particularly as he didn't actually find James or the dogs.

He pauses briefly at the entrance, giving her an odd look. "I don't have any money for the train," he points out. He follows after a moment, though -- even if he can only go down into the outermost part, maybe it'll be a little warmer than it is outside.

Daine spots the door to the base and leaves Andrew's side, trotting up to it. She scrapes her paw against it a few times, then lets out a quiet cough of a bark. Hopefully Phil (or whoever's manning the door today) will realize it's her and open up. It wouldn't be the first time she came back in animal shape.

Before Andrew can go over to assist her with the door, it opens from within, revealing Phil. He gives Andrew a distrustful look, not recognizing him, then looks down and sighs at the dogs. "Daine?" he asks.

"I followed her home," pipes up Andrew, getting a bit silly in his general misery. He wraps his arms tightly about himself, shivering visibly. "Can she keep me?"

It's occurred to Daine that the rebels might not be over-pleased at her bringing in strays, so she doesn't go out of her way to make it clear just which dog she is. All three of them wag their tails at Phil, pleased to be going inside.

She nearly gives herself away when she hears Andrew's joke--one she can actually appreciate. She tries to disguise her snort of amusement as a sneeze, then trots into the hall, heading for her room. The dogs can stay there for the time being, and once she's human and dressed, she can help Andrew.

"Daine," Phil sighs again. "We can't -- Daine, you can't just bring in all the strays you find."

He doesn't have the heart to kick them out until she'll admit which one she is, though. "Don't blame me when they get put right back outside," he grumbles, shutting the door behind the little group.

But they'll behave themselves! Honestly, Phil, you won't even know they're there.

When Daine reaches her room, she paws the door open and sends in the dogs. Then she turns to Andrew and holds up a paw as if to say, 'wait.' This should only take a minute.

From inside the room, there's a meow of complaint. Shadow's not thrilled about the new roommates.

"I don't eat much," Andrew reassures Phil in passing, trotting along after the dogs. He just waves a hand when Phil shouts after them that she'd better be taking his new friend to get registered. Andrew keeps his eyes open, peering about at everything in undisguised curiosity. He doesn't know what's going on here or why there's suddenly a secret lair under Central Park, but he'll go with it for now. He's wary, ready to make a run for it if things go sour, but Daine seems friendly and helpful, so he'll give her the benefit of the doubt for as long as he can.

"Wait here?" he asks, frowning around himself at the hall. That room doesn't look -- is that someone's bedroom?

Daine nods, then slips into the room, rearing up on her hinders to close the door. As she shifts back, she asks the dogs to leave Shadow alone (the cat, for his part, lashes his tail and offers to make himself scarce for the evening). The dogs agree to behave, happy to be indoors and not wanting to cause trouble. Daine dresses hastily, Shadow waiting by the door with his tail fluffed to twice its usual size. She's not surprised when the cat streaks out the door as soon as she opens it.

"Okay," Daine steps back out into the hall and smiles at Andrew, "that's better. Shall we find you some clothes?"

Andrew startles when the re-opening of the door brings a cat running past his feet. He turns quickly, as if to follow it -- thinking it's Daine -- but no, sudden human! The head looks familiar, at least.

"Look at you, all pink and brown," he comments wonderingly. "Is this your usual form?"

Daine nods, feeling a bit shy under his scrutiny. "I'm a wildmage--that's what we call it in my realm. I've got magic that connects me to animals, so I can talk to animals and shape-shift. And heal, too. Though I can only do so much before I get tapped out." She smiles apologetically. "It's why I didn't talk to you too much--I was getting a bit tired."

She still is tired, in fact, but being back in her human shape helps. A little food, some sleep, and a few days of taking it a bit easier in the magic department will do wonders.

"But not humans?" If she can connect to humans the same way, she might not be able to connect with him anyhow -- though she doesn't seem surprised that they couldn't communicate the way she does with animals.

"What is this place?" he asks. While he's fascinated by Daine and what she can do, he's more than a little curious about where she's taken him.

Why is that always the first thing everyone asks? "No, not humans. If another human has wild magic, I can see it if I look closely, but that's all."

Daine leans back against her door, hands in pockets. "This is the base. The folk who run it look for people who came through the rift and take 'em in before Romac can get them." She doesn't think very highly of Romac, though she's hardly heard an unbiased account of them. The rebels haven't told her all that much, but what she has heard reminds her a little too much of cages. She doesn't like the thought of having to live by someone else's rules (with an or else heavily implied), and at least the rebels give her a good deal of freedom.

Handrew touches his tongue to the roof of his mouth again in that thoughtful way he has. "And who's Romac? And sorry, wildmage -- is that something you learned, or something you were born with?"

Staying on one topic, he fails at it.

She answers the second question, first. "Both, I s'pose. I was born with my magic, but I had to learn how to use it. I've always been able to talk to animals, but I just thought I had a knack with them until a few years ago, before Numair started teaching me. I never would have guessed I could heal or shape-shift if Numair and the Badger hadn't told me I could."

"So not everyone's like you back home?" Seriously, Daine, you've derailed him. There are other questions he needs to be asking about where he is and where he might get some trousers. "The Badger? Numair's not a badger, is he? She? They?"

Daine shakes her head, biting back a grin. He reminds her a little of Lindhall, with all his questions. "There are other humans who have a bit of wild magic, but not as much as me. I don't think there are any other wildmages, though there are normal mages--Numair, he's a mage. A human one," she adds. Not a badger. "He has the Gift: that's what we call the sort of magic humans have."

She should probably start steering him towards the library. Blythe could answer his questions about Romac better than she could. Daine straightens and starts down the hall, motioning for Andrew to follow. "The Badger is one of the animal gods. He's been looking after me." Because her absent Da asked him to, though she doesn't much want to mention that part.

"Are there badger mages?" asks Andrew, who is perfectly aware of the ridiculousness of the question. He delivers it with perfect seriousness, though, wanting to hear what she'll say.

Multiple kinds of magic -- interesting. Quite interesting, as is the fact that Daine is possibly unique in her abilities. He stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. "Now, when you say god -- d'you mean smoke and fire and booming voice from the heavens, or d'you mean listens to your prayers but doesn't manifest, or...?"

After giving him a startled blink, she replies, "No. All animals have wild magic--it's how I can talk to them and such--but they aren't mages. As for the Badger..." she shrugs. "Sometimes he visits me in my dreams, and sometimes he actually shows up. He looks like a normal badger, except his claws are silver." He smells like a normal badger, too--something she doesn't always much appreciate, considering what badgers eat. "When he talks to me, he sounds like any of the People would, but he can talk to other humans, too, which is something a normal badger couldn't do."

She hesitates for a moment, then adds, "I'm pretty sure he listens to prayers--at least from badgers." But he hasn't been able to hear hers, as far as she can tell. Granted, that isn't too unusual--he's always shown up when he wants to and without much regard for what she'd prefer--but it's still discouraging.

He expected her to blow off the question and tell him that badgers aren't magical (and there's a sentence he wasn't expecting to think today). "All animals?" he asks. "Really? So even, say -- a dog who can't quite grasp the concept of stairs and thinks that his squeaky toys are going to eat him, he'd have wild magic and you could talk to him?"

This Badger god business is also quite interesting. "Is he normal badger size?" he asks. "And is there -- I dunno, is there a The Sparrow, or The Skink, or are badgers special?"

Daine grins. "I take it one of your dogs isn't a fan of stairs, then? Yes, I could talk to him. Might even be able to convince him that stairs are all right."

She unconsciously fiddles with the leather tie that holds the Badger's claw. "He's about normal--big, but male badgers are big, so." She lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. "I think all animals have their own gods--the first male and first female of their kind. I know the wolves do: Old White and Night Black, they're called. I've never met the Badger's mate, though."

"Harry's...special," replies Andrew with a grin. "I'd be interested to hear what he has to say." Because it would probably be hilarious.

He glances at her, seeing she's fiddling with something but not really getting what it is. "How long ago did you come here?" he asks softly.

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