27 July 2012 @ 08:26 pm
Look at this photograph  
|A: 338 Brady Lane|

[As he often does in Mayfield, Lyn has been carefully minding his own business and keeping his head down; the last big happening in town, in fact, he'd only heard about secondhand, which he considers something of a blessing. He's more than had his fill of the town's bullshit; the less they mess with him, the better he likes it.

So he's genuinely a little baffled when he finds something in the mail for him. Usually the return of their things and abilities from home is a sort of twisted reward for surviving the latest horror, and he hadn't even gotten near whatever dark carnival Mayfield had put on.

But hey, who is he to question the lunatics in charge if they want to give him more of his stuff? He tears into the envelope eagerly; he hasn't yet received anything from his own world that hasn't been good, and he can't think of anything he could get back that he wouldn't want -

The picture slides out of the envelope into his waiting hand, and he nearly drops it as though it had burned him. It's not that he has anything against the picture itself, it's innocuous enough...but the memories it stirs are an old wound he hadn't been prepared to suddenly have reopened. Anyone who interrupts Lyn now will find him almost viciously surly, compared to his usual casual grousing.]

|B: Around town|

[Lyn's taken his bad mood on the road, though now he's more upset than kneejerk angry. For once he's scuffing through the streets without seeming twitchy or paranoid, and traveling entirely on the ground; he's too preoccupied for his usual furtive movements and clambering around on anything above eye level.

He doesn't really expect to be bothered, since he doesn't know many people in Mayfield, thanks to his paranoia leading him to avoid a lot of them - but an apparent teenager as clearly depressed as he is at the moment might inspire comment.

He's still holding the picture - which he may or may not lose his grip on in his preoccupation and drop it at the feet of passersby. When this happens, he reacts with the sudden panic of a man who's just dropped a diamond or nuclear launch key, pouncing on it immediately before it can get away. Or someone can steal it from him...though why anyone would want to is a question for Lyn's paranoia.]

Shit - !
14 April 2012 @ 04:49 am
Do you ever feel out of place  
Action - 1487 Kramden Road

[Something ain't right.

Lyn doesn't exactly think this coherently, but he knows something is out of place even before he opens his eyes. He's somewhere soft, for one thing. Soft, warm, and bright. This is a matter of concern when one makes a habit of sleeping on the floor under one's own bed as a paranoid self-defense measure. (Because if you sleep out in the open, they can find you. Lyn isn't hiding from any particular they, but it never goddamn hurts to err on the side of caution, right?)

He sits up - well, almost flounders up, because holy shit this bed is like a marshmallow he's sinking into, who the hell can even sleep like this? - and eventually manages to squirm out of the nest of blankets and soft mattress. Then other things start making themselves alarmingly clear.

Point one: he did not have hair down past his ass when he went to sleep last night. It certainly wasn't black, either.

Point two: his balance is totally off, possibly due to the big fucking tail with the death grip on his butt. Craning his head over his shoulder and doing a couple spins doesn't really manage to get him a very good look at it, but it's very definitely there.

Point three: ...whoa, hey, is he taller? This kind of distracts him from his rapidly approaching freakout for a few interesting seconds as he makes his way - somewhat unsteadily; that tail is doing weird things to his ability to walk without overbalancing in one direction or another, especially since he has no goddamn idea how to make it behave - to the door in order to get a solid frame of reference. Yep, definitely taller. That's...okay, yeah, that part is kinda cool.

From there, he makes his way to the bathroom, looks in the mirror, and blasphemes so loudly and thoroughly that Aziraphale's ears may just burst into flame.

He's managed to wind up in the body of the one demon in town who's even lamer than himself.]


[To anyone who's talked to Ebony before, he's certainly sounding a lot coarser than usual today...]

Okay, so who knows what the fuck is going on? And where the hell is my body? Demon kid, whatever the hell your name was, the one who was handing out cookies of all damn things - did we switch places? Is that what fucking happened? 'Cause lemme tell you, this better be something the town did.

You better not mess with me while you're me, or so help me - [He can't even articulate a proper threat here; he just makes an angry, frustrated noise.]

Also, your bed sucks.