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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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.

Daine's smile fades. "A couple weeks ago," she replies, fixing her gaze on the ground. She really didn't expect to be here this long, and while she hasn't lost hope that Numair or Kitten or the Badger or someone will find her, she's not happy it's taking so long. Her fingers close around the Badger's claw, sharp enough to prick her even through the fabric of her shirt. Where are you? she asks.

She doesn't get an answer. Well, she wasn't really expecting one.

Andrew manages to be oblivious for only a moment or two before he realizes he's upset her. Without commenting (for once), he reaches over to take her hand, if she'll let him.

She's a little surprised by the gesture, but she lets him take her hand and attempts a smile that probably isn't all that convincing.

"Look," she tugs the leather string around her neck until the silver claw swings free and catches it against the palm of her hand so she can show it to him. "The Badger gave me this. It's so he can find me wherever I am." So even though he's taking his blessed time, he still can find her. She just has to be patient.

She's lucky he didn't just grab her and hug her. He does reserve his physical displays of affection a little bit.

"Is that one of his?" he asks, peering at it. He wishes he had the senses he'd need to feel if there's any sort of psionic field coming off it, or at least a sonic screwdriver with which to scan it. Failing that, it would be nice to at least be able to whip out his brainy specs, but he doesn't exactly carry those around in his pajama pockets.

Daine nods, wrinkling her nose. "He chewed it off right in front of me. Gave me a start, but a new one grew right back." There's badger gods for you.

"...Ouch," comments Andrew, thinking of the Doctor's memory of getting his hand -- that is, Andrew -- chopped off and growing a new one. Being able to replace it hadn't meant it didn't hurt.

Daine tucks the Badger's claw back under her shirt. "Anyway. We'll be at the library soon. Blythe ought to be there, and she can tell you all about Romac."

"Library? You have a library down here?" And both of them seem to have forgot his lack of trousers. It's warmer down here, at least.

Andrew's chronic distractedness seems to be catching.

Daine nods. "Blythe takes care of it. It's where I've been getting books about the city. My realm's very different from this one." And that's putting it mildly.

He'll remember in a few minutes. Maybe Blythe will remember for him.

"It's all very properly established, then, isn't it?" he asks, taking in his surroundings in a new light. "How long has this been going on, do you know?"

"Years, I think. Not sure how long the base has been here." She hasn't paid as close attention as she probably should have done when explanations were being parceled out. But then, she'd been more interested in getting back where she came from than learning about where she was.

He sucks on his teeth thoughtfully. "Impressive thing to hide -- an entire underground base, right off Central Park. Right under Central Park, if I'm not mistaken. It took someone a good while to put all this together."

"Blythe could tell you," Daine says with a sheepish shrug. She's really not the right person to ask about... well, pretty much anything relating to this realm.

Fortunately for her, they've reached the library. Daine knocks on the door even though it's standing open before poking her head inside. "Blythe?"

"So who is this Blythe?" asks Andrew, though he could wait like two seconds and ask the woman herself. He shifts himself over so he can peer in the door, making no effort to hide the fact that he's staring around at all the things.

"Yes, dear?" asks Blythe, coming to greet them at the door, smiling until she sees Andrew.

"Peter?" she asks, with some confusion. He's not someone you see around here often, and -- certainly not in that clothing. "No, you're not Peter, are you?"

Daine, not having met Peter, looks a bit confused. "His name is Andrew. He just got here, and he was wondering about Romac." To Andrew, she adds, "Blythe knows everything about Romac."

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