realityshifted

[Today, there is a great and terrible beastie roaming the snow-covered hills by the Onsen. Well...if by great and terrible, you mean one that's a good four inches under six feet tall. Otherwise, it's beast-like enough, a reddish-orange sort of fellow with knobbly horns that look a bit like drones on bagpipes, a pair of wings jutting from its back and a series of raised bumps covering its arms, torso and back.

It also happens to have a pair of very human-looking brown eyes, should anyone get close enough to see. Right now those eyes are looking a bit frustrated, and there's a certain tenseness in the creature's shoulders, carrying over into the line of its body even as it paces about. It seems, if nothing else, it's not a terribly happy beastie. And maybe, just maybe, it's staying away from the more populated parts of the Plane for a reason...]

((OOC: This particular beastie is Jamie, transformed courtesy of the pollen. And while he can hear and understand what people are saying, he can't currently do anything other than make various incomprehensible noises in return. As a note, anything he says in his current form would come across as growls or roars or things of that nature unless you're a telepath or happen to speak Unhappy Allergic Scottish Beastie - which if you want to do that, go for it! Just let me know in the tag somehow.))

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[For a moment, there's hope that maybe she'll understand him, but when she doesn't, he looks frustrated - his mouth pulling off to one side in the exact same way it used to when he was human.]

No, I am not! Do I look okay to ye, Marta?

[Suddenly he sighs, his wings drooping and a rather defeated air coming over him.] Och, what's the use? No one can understand me. I might as well get used to being a terrible beastie.

[Which he's going to do by sitting down heavily on the nearest rock and slumping in a very human sort of way.

...okay, so maybe he's not so good at being a terrible beastie.]

[That makes her frown. Forget caution at this point, she moves to stand next to the beast, concerned.]

Oh no... something is wrong, isn't it? Oh, I wish I could understand... [She bites her lip, considering...] But... you can understand me, right? Maybe I could ask you questions and you could nod or something? Maybe I can figure it out and help!

[He straightens up at that suggestion, something like hope coming into his eyes - and he nods a moment later, fairly enthusiastically.]

Aye...aye, that might work! Alright, let's give that a go.

[And if not, well...he'll think of something. But this seems like a good start, at least.]

Edited 2012-09-23 07:29 (UTC)

[She smiles, delighted that it seems to work!]

Great! Okay. Um... are you new to the Plane?

((OoC: I swear I'm alive! ;; ;; ))

[There's a shake of his head at that, a simple denial, although he winds up speaking again as well, just to try and help get the point across.]

No, I'm not.

((ooc: ah, no worries. Whenever you can get to things is fine!))

You’re not? Oh! Then... have we met before? [! Oh!] Is this an experiment?

[This time he nods...but then there's a shrug as well.]

Aye! We have. I don't know, though. I suppose it must be.

[He thinks for a moment, then scuffs up a bit of the ground below him with his foot. Crouching down, he tries to do a sketch with one of his talons. It's a stick figure, because he's no artist, but a stick figure with mop-like hair, wearing what looks like a plaid skirt. He looks up at Marta, hopefully. Does she recognize the figure?]

[They've met before? Huh... then who could...?

Before she can think of a way to ask, she watches the beastie start drawing in the ground. She crouches as well, for a better look. The hair, the skirt...

Wait, that's not a skirt, it's a kilt! And that means...]

Jamie! [She looks up at him with wide eyes and a bit of a smile!] Oh my goddess, Jamie, it's you!

[If he wasn't stuck as a beastie, he might have smiled back out of sheer relief, but right now that would involve a whole lot of pointy teeth - and even though it seems Marta recognises him, he'd rather not risk that right now. He does still somehow managed to look relieved, nodding again, this time quite rapidly.]

Ye recognise me! Och, that's a relief.

[He starts to sketch in the dirt again, this time a taller stick figure with a mass of spiky hair and a trenchcoat, then he puts a question mark next to it.]

I don't suppose you've seen the Doctor, have ye? I could use a wee bit of help.

[Oh look, more sketching! She squints at it, studies it really carefully... hmmm. Tall, floofy hair, with a coat-- Aha.]

The Doctor! ... Question? [Blink!] ... Oh! Are you looking for him? [She shakes her head.] Sorry, I haven't seen him at all lately. But I can help you look for him! That way, I can tell him who you are! [She smiles!] Well, if he doesn't figure it out first.

[If anyone could help with whatever's happened to him, it's the Doctor, but when it seems that Marta's not seen him, the small shred of hope he's feeling starts to fade - only to be rekindled again when she offers to help. It sounds like a very good plan, with only one problem. So and back to the dirt he goes. This time, though, there's writing that she can hopefully read. Well, once he's done. It does take him awhile to scratch out a sentence.]

But if we go how will we 'talk'?

Edited 2012-10-14 07:43 (UTC)

[Hey, she can read that! Oh, but that's a good point. She frowns a bit, thinking.]

Hmmm... well, could you write on paper while we walk? I can get some from my world for you!

[And she's so enthused, she goes right ahead and does that! She's gone from the Plane for all of about 10 seconds, and when she returns, she has a few sheets of paper and a pencil. She wanted to bring more paper, but there's only so much readily available when you're traveling all the time...]

Here! This should work, right?

[Well, it might do if he's careful. And if he finds something to put the paper against, otherwise he might rip a hole in it without really meaning to do so. Looking around, he spots a flattish-looking chunk of rock, half buried in the ground.]

With this to help keep it in place, maybe.

[He reaches down to pull it free, then holds out his hand for the pencil and paper. Shuffling things about is a bit awkward, and it takes him a minute to find a way to hold the pencil so he can use it. But eventually, he manages to get it all sorted, and tries to write. It works...but five-year olds have better penmanship than he does right now.]

How's this?

[013].

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