lostcarnival | ⇨ The Tourist Trap: PROLOGUE

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⇨ The Tourist Trap: PROLOGUE

Who: Anyone, anywhere in Portland.
When: Any time before the start of the event.
Where: Portland area, in the new reality.
What: Once you've submitted your AU summary, you can use this post to do some CLOSED THREADING to play out some character interactions that happened before the event start. This means that memory regains will not be in play yet. Open top levels are not allowed - these threads are intended to sort out closed interactions between planned backstory connections, during the week leading up to the actual event start.
Warnings: Could be anything.

PORTLAND, AS YOU KNEW IT↴

The shift went unseen and unfelt. One moment you were one person, and the next, another. This before all that, though, in the new life that you remember living here in Portland. No memories of your true self have arisen yet, and at the time this was the only life you knew. Did these events truly happen at all? Or do they only exist in memory?

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Peridot watches him approach cautiously, and stares hard at the offered hand, nose twitching, ears wiggling. She's reluctant to come immediately over to him. It's not that she doesn't trust Lambert, of course, but he's absolutely right that she's scared out of her damned mind right now. The rational and objective way of thinking that she normally prides herself on, uses to define herself as a person, is just not present in this tiny trembling creature.

Still... She realizes that if she'd had the choice to tell anyone about this... If she'd had the chance to call someone for help? She would have called him.

She finally lets go of the plunger stick and wobbles clumsily on all fours over to his hand, trying not to let herself get flustered worrying over how ridiculous she must look moving around like this. The closer she gets, the more her sense of urgency grows, until all of a sudden she's rushing to meet his palm and clinging onto his wrist like her very life depends on it. .

When she isn't speaking, there isn't very much about this little creature that's anything like the Peridot he grew up with, and to be honest, it's bewildering. If all the ways to have a reunion in the months since he's left the house, this was not what he'd been expecting. Against his palm, he can feel the hammer of her tiny heart, the soft, warm weight of her tickling his fingers.

It'd be cuter if he wasn't so worried. He doesn't know a whole lot about animals, but now that he's gotten a better look at her, she's obviously a bat of some kind -- just not a bat he's ever seen. But questions about the specifics can wait.

"I've got you," he murmurs, soothing nonsense that he'll swear up and down never crossed his lips later -- assuming either of them even try to revisit this moment, anyway. "We're gonna figure this out, okay?" Though-- he glances around. They probably aren't going to figure out a whole lot squatting on a bathroom floor.

What probably doesn't help, with regards to how recognizable she is, is that when she moves she kind of staggers, which gives her the appearance of a drunken ambulatory pompom.

Anyway: They sure as hell are never speaking of this vulnerable moment again, once this gets resolved. But for the time being, Peridot is more than happy for some reassurance from her big brother. Saying "thank you" doesn't really feel necessary here; it's mushy and sentimental in a way that Peridot doesn't really like to express, and she rather believes that Lambert already knows that she's grateful anyway.

She huffs, and makes a miserable groaning noise before pulling her head back, trying to bury her face under one arm. "Lambert. Brother," she says after a long pause, forcing a casual tone. "Would you be so kind as to hold me up to a mirror, so that I may see exactly what unfortunate fate has befallen me?"

That sounds a little more like the Peridot that Lambert knows and loves (to tease) and he breathes an internal sigh of relief. So she's still a bat, and he still has no idea how to fix this, but at least she isn't panicking. Not that that's unusual for her either, but it's usually for less valid reasons...

Although her request is incredibly likely to upset that fragile equilibrium. Lambert blinks, looking down at her dubiously. Still, what's he going to say? 'No you can't because I think you're going to scream and we're going to be back where we started?'

"If that's what you want," he says finally, cupping his other hand gingerly on her back to steady her as he gets his feet under him and rises from the floor. "But try not to flip out, okay?" He's already fully anticipating there will, in fact, be a flip out, and he's bracing for it as he lifts up his arm so she can see herself in the mirror over the sink. 'Peridot' and 'chill' don't really go together.

Of course it's what she wants. She can't very well go about trying to fix whatever is wrong with her if she doesn't even know the extent of what has happened. Geez Lambert.

Gingerly, Peridot lifts her wing away from her face, and stares right at the mirror. It's incredibly disorienting at first, looking at a reflection and not seeing her usual face there, and it takes her a moment to even identify herself in the image, her beady little bat eyes flicking around frantically. Eventually her gaze falls on the bizarre white something perched on Lambert's arm and--

She jerks back in alarm. "B--b--" she stammers, trying to take a step back and flaring her wings out and beating them in the air a few times when she starts to go off balance. "B... BAT.... BAT! WHY AM I A-- WHY--!?"

So there's that flipping out her was afraid of, as expected.

Of course that was goingto happen. When Peridot starts to flap her wings in agitation and begins to overbalance, Lambert's hand is quick to catch her before she can topple over to the floor.

"Hey! Uh--" No nineteen year old boy was ever more under equipped for this... "Calm down, you're going to--"

There's a sharp rapping at the door, and Lambert pales, immediately moving his hand to cover Peridot's ...head??? She's so small he can't actually figure out if he can cover just her mouth or not, but in any case it muffles the outburst enough to hear the concerned adult on the other side of the door.

Everything all right in there?

"Y-yeah, w-- I'm good!" Lambert calls back, remembering to correct himself at the last minute. The silence at the other side of the door suggests the other person isn't actually that convinced, so he yells back the first excuse he can come up with: "Just-- curry! Really bad curry!" If that isn't enough of a deterrent, hopefully the loud fake gagging noises that follow are.

He was wrong. This is way worse than being puked on at a house party (for some reason, he never seems to be able to avert disaster for himself).

Well this is certainly a debacle. Bonus, Peridot is about to make it worse, because clamping your hand down over a panicking animal-- no matter how necessary it may be at the time-- is generally not a wise move. She can't even take the time to be judgmental about the ridiculous sounds Lambert is making, because she's too busy emitting muffled squeaks against his hand and putting her little fruit bat teeth against the heel of his palm.

At least she's not a bloodsucking variety of bat. She probably doesn't even manage to break the skin.

Probably.

Peridot doesn't draw blood, but it's a near thing. Lambert has to bite his lip against a shout when her teeth sink in into the meat of his (thankfully calluses) palm and he jerks his hand back so she isn't as trapped. Whether she ends up coming along for the ride depends on whether she lets go or not..

"Calm down, Peridot!" He hisses, in the grand tradition of people who know full well telling someone to calm down is going to do absolutely fuck-all to make it happen. Maybe using her full name for once will actually have some effect, but who knows?

"You startled me!" she snaps indignantly, totally flustered. At least she's trying to keep her voice down somewhat. "This is ridiculous, look at me, how is something like this even possible!? It flies in the face of the very laws of NATURE!"

To be honest, Lambert was thinking the same thing, but he doesn't have any answers for her ... and they're definitely not getting any more answers standing around like this.

"I don't know," Lambert admits. "But we can't stay here. We've got to get you home and ... and figure it out from there."

An incredulous, humorless laugh. "Home? We can't go home!" Peridot shuffles anxiously up and down her brother's arm, which is about as close to agitated pacing as she can get in her current shape. "Can you even imagine how the parental units will react if they see me like this!? No, there is no WAY I am going back there!"

Lambert grimaces. All right, he hates to admit it, but Peridot might have a point there. While it takes a certain kind of person to bring three foster kids into their house at once, he's not sure he wants to test the limit of that patience. If he could just sneak in it would be a different story, but...

"They don't have to see you," is what he says instead, thinking out loud. "Since it's still early, they won't be looking for you for a while. I could bring you in in a bag." He glances down, makes another face. "...And we need to pick up your clothes."

Peridot lets out a dubious sounding groan. Is it possible for a bat to appear skeptical? Because she feels pretty skeptical about this plan.

"We're already at the library. Why go home? Isn't library science like, your thing? You should be able to research up a solution easy, with all the resources we have access to here."

"I haven't picked a major yet," Lambert snaps back, automatically defensive; sure, he's flirted with a few different subjects and so far he kind of likes the idea of getting more into research, but he's really a little worried it's a little too much nerd.

But his life choices aren't what are on the chopping block here!

"Well we can't stay in this bathroom and I can't go out there holding a bat," he'll point out instead. "So you're going to have to hide somewhere." He's going to take this opportunity to multitask, awkwardly slipping his backpack and reaching for her discarded clothes so he can start stuffing them inside.

Another groan. This is so embarrassing, and Peridot hates every second of it.

"Can you at least let me maintain some of my dignity by letting me ball my undergarments up inside of the rest of my clothing? I don't want you touching them," she complains.

There are arguably a plethora of more embarrassing stories Lambert could rib her with, including a snide you weren't this fussy a few years ago, but a bitchy Peridot is a good sign things are gravitating a little bit closer to normal, at least, and he rolls his eyes, bundling up the cloth (see, he isn't touching them) and jamming it all on top of his other shit.

Unfortunately, it doesn't leave much room for her to actually shove herself in, and he frowns, glancing between her and the bag before he sighs and unzips his jacket.

"Come on, hop in." Yeah remember that thing called dignity, Peridot? Kiss it goodbye.

On her perch, Peridot leeeeeeans away. Her little bat snout is all scrunched up.

"You can't be serious."

"You're not going to fit in the bag," Lambert says, with exaggerated patience.

"And if we're gonna stick around, I really don't want to explain why I'm carrying a bat around."

She can't help but wonder: What did she do to deserve this? She's a good person, she works hard and gets good grades and generally doesn't do crime, so why, universe, is she being punished like this?

Peridot heaves a sigh and wobbles her way up Lambert's arm, and then clings to the front of his shirt as directed. "Oh my god. Why are you so sweaty?" she complains. "Did you run here or something?"

Come to think of it, he still hasn't explained how he found her here. Hiiiiighly suspicious.

Lambert had, but she doesn't need to know that, does she? He isn't certain about it himself, and it's easier if they focus on one person's problems at a time. Once she's securely on, he'll zip up his hoodie (it kind of awkwardly looks like he got knocked up or suddenly got tits or whatever, but he'll live) just enough that she isn't super obtrusive, and ... yeah, he really should have thought this through better.

"You probably haven't realized this because you never work out, but sweating is a thing most people do." Gingerly, he slings his bag over his shoulder, then walks to the door. "Where'd you put the rest of your stuff?"

"Wow, you're hilarious," she replies dryly. "Nngh... I left my bag over by one of the computer stations. It should still be there, provided some rando hasn't gone and lifted all my stuff."

Anyway get ready for some awkward tickling, Lambert, because Peridot is moving north to poke her head up just over the neck line of his hoodie, so she can squint out and get a sense of what her field of vision is.

Not that she can... see... anything very clearly... what with the bat eyes, and everything.

"All right. Try not to talk too much once we're outside."

Lambert's wit is amazing, thanks. He lets her wriggle her way to a better position, cracking the door open and scanning their immediate surroundings -- thankfully clear -- before he hustles over to the computer stations as directed. It isn't hard to find Peridot's stuff, and he slides into the seat, putting his bag next to Peridot's and reaching for the mouse.

The timer's still running -- thankfully? -- so it's not hard to pull up a new browser window, before he pauses. What the fuck does he even search for, here? Finally, after a moment's hesitation, he types:

can humanss turn into bats?

The initial results aren't particularly reassuring. Neither is searching for bat transformation.

Edited 2017-05-31 22:11 (UTC)

Fortunately, Peridot really can't read the screen because, as previously mentioned, bat eyes are garbage. "Are you finding anything?" she hisses urgently, wriggling up a little higher to try and see if she can interpret anything on the monitor. Huge yellow ears are probably grazing Lambert's chin at the moment.

Lucky for Lambert, really, because nah, he's really not into looking at weird pictures when any time a librarian could come look right over his shoulder.

"Hold on," he mutters back. The tickle of ears against his chin -- something that makes his skin instinctively goosepimple and leaves him fighting the urge to jerk away -- does inspire him to look up something else: white bat, yellow nose.

There. Now that's something marginally useful.

"Looks like you're a Honduran bat. Just a really big one." He squints. "...you aren't from Honduras, are you?" #Logic at work.

Edited 2017-05-31 22:52 (UTC)

"Seriously?" Come on, man. "How would I even know? I don't even know who my birth parents are, let alone where they originated from."

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