bigapplesauce | This is Most Assuredly Not Portland (For One Thing, It's Not Raining) [Open]

"There are places where the layers of reality don’t sit well against each other, like... like wearing a new
pair of shoes. They rub and pull and holes can form." - Jonathan Healy

Central Park, New York City. (And Not the New York City One Would Normally Expect- At Least, Not the One Alex Would.)

Alex stood dazed for a moment, suitcases in hand. A moment ago, he was unpacking them from the car, getting ready to take them into the hotel room for the night. He and his fiance were driving from Ohio to Portland, with his colony of Aeslin Mice and church griffin, ready to start making wedding plans once they got to his family home outside of the city.

But. This was not the hotel parking lot. This. Looked a lot like Central Park. In New York City. The exact opposite direction of the way they were headed. And Shelby was nowhere to be seen. He put the suitcases down, and hushed the cheering from within. "Not now, guys."

"Shelby?" No answer. Not good. Or possibly good, since that meant she wasn't sucked into this, and that she was probably now looking for him on the other end of it. Comforting thought.

"Crow?" A big, black shape flew from one tree to another, squirrel caught in his beak, fuzzy hindquarters disappearing into the leaves. Alex relaxed a little. Okay, he had... some sort of backup with him. Even if he was only... mostly likely to listen to him.

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Daine has plonked herself down to give Crow a more thorough ear-scritching - what a marvelous little creature he is! - but Alex's suggestion that they get indoors is sensible. Enough so that she feels a bit sheepish for forgetting herself in her excitement. The native New Yorkers aren't very observant, but Crow sticks out something fierce up close, and everyone's got a camera. If she doesn't get them underground soon, they're going to draw gawkers.

"Maybe you ought to head up and follow us from above," Daine suggests to Crow. "We'll be going towards the subway, but you won't need to join us until we hit the entrance."

Then she gets to her feet, grinning up at Alex in irrepressible curiosity. "The mice can talk?" she asks as she tilts her head in the direction of the base and starts toward the closest path. "Aloud, you mean? In a way humans can understand?"

Alex, at least, does not have the aversion to subway travel that his sister did while living in Manhattan. But he also does not like to give gravity the middle finger quite as much as Verity does. Admittedly, the thoughts of the things she did find under her Manhattan make him wince a little at the thought of willingly taking the underland route.

He's fairly sure that won't happen in this case. Pretty sure.

When Daine asks about the mice, he kind of makes a pained expression. "The bigger miracle is getting them not to talk, actually," he says, just as the sound of cheering comes from the bag when he picks it up to start moving. "They also cheer, sing, chant... perform religious rites involving detailed historical reenactments going back for generations..." he says. "I'll be happy to offer a formal introduction once we're somewhere safe."

"I'd like that," Daine says aloud, adding a silent, It'll be very nice to meet you properly, to the mice. They're People enough that she figures they should be able to hear her.

Remembering what Alex said before about not being able to fib, she says, "You've picked a fair strange day to show up, I'm afraid. The rift acts up sometimes - messes with the folk it's brought through - and it's really been misbehaving today. But the fits usually only last a few days at the longest, so you'll be back to normal soon enough." Her smile starts sympathetic, then turns rueful. "There's actually two of me right now. That's a first." But if Andrew can get through such an experience, so can she.

Alex follows the woman, suitcases rolling alongside him. And one of them "HAIL!"ing. The mice do not know how to respond silently. Like that's a surprise. As if they could do anything silently. Crow takes wing far above them, keeping an eye on them and following.

"Inter-dimensional travel can cause some strange effects. I'm just happy to have made the trip without any border imps to deal with. Not having to worry about anyone getting necrotized makes any trip far easier to deal with. So far, this has been less harrowing than Australia. Admittedly, that did involve my future in-laws."

"I haven't seen any imps here." She wrinkles her nose at the thought. "From my realm or anyone else's. Odd's bobs, that'd be a mess." She still has her bow and practices with it regularly, but she's well out of the habit of carrying it with her wherever she goes. The thought of an onslaught of immortals showing up while she's essentially unarmed isn't a pleasant one.

That being said, she's hearing an awful lot of familiar terms from him. He doesn't look like he's from the same time has her, but she can't help wondering if he's from the same place. "You haven't heard of Tortall, have you?" she asks, trying not to get her hopes up.

Alex gives that some thought. He thinks maybe he might have seen the name in one of his sister's books... but not one of her research books. Antimony read... a lot. Comics, sci-fi, fantasy. "Not in any factual or research references," he says, apologetically.

"My 'Uncle' Naga would be a better person to ask, he's a professor of inter-dimensional studies who... kinda got summoned to our reality by a snake cult. Great guy, very knowledgeable about... well, alternate dimensions. Honestly, if we get desperate, trying to summon him here wouldn't be the worst idea. He'd probably appreciate being summoned by someone not trying to feed him small children or virgin sacrifices." A pause. "He's... not actually a god, just... half very large snake. The bottom half, specifically. Snake cults are... almost always made up of very, very stupid, misguided humans."

She frowns a moment, trying to figure out if that's really a yes or a no, then decides it was leaning more towards 'no' and huffs out a disappointed little sigh. Too much to hope for, probably.

The thought of dashing Alex's hopes in turn isn't very enticing, but given how the rift tends to respond to prodding, it's probably safest for him to be warned against it straight away. "Nothing gets in or out of Manhattan without the rift's say-so," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I don't think summoning anyone would work. Elsewise, someone from my realm would've found me already." Even if Numair had been stymied, there's no excuse for the Badger. She still has his token, and he's a god. But the rift is the only god worth mentioning in this realm, and it doesn't seem to like sharing.

Hoping to lighten the mood a little, she adds, "But your uncle sounds nice. Plenty of folk back home misjudge immortals, but I've met ogres and basalisks and dragons who're kind and sensible sorts."

This is Most Assuredly Not Portland (For One Thing, It's Not Raining) [Open]

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