♈001

[corrodes]

A; 768 Bunker Streeet
[The Handmaid does not so much wake up as her body propels itself out of bed on instinct before she is fully conscious and able to take in her surroundings. She wobbles slightly, muscles attempting to compensate for the weight of horns that were no longer there. A glance in the mirror reveals that she isn't a troll at all, through some sort of magic or manipulation, and after taking a moment to mentally compare her new face to her older, usual one she turns to the person in the bed, yanking the blankets off and aiming to kick him onto the ground.]

What is the meaning of this?

B; around Mayfield
[The Handmaid is dressed in green, but it's a softer hue than her usual attire, and its fifties America sensibilities are out of place on her, or they would be if she was at all recognizable in this state. She is aware of humans, and so knows what she has become, but as for the why behind it, she is uncertain. Whatever it is, Lord English certainly knew it was going to happen already. Therefore, she should familiarize herself with her surroundings and await further, inevitable instruction.

She glances at the various humans and other, unknown species as she passes, and while she is trying her best to hide it there is the typical "new to Mayfield" sense of confusion and uncertainty creeping around the edges of her carefully-maintained aloof expression if one is looking for that sort of thing. Help her out? Or make things worse, if you prefer.]

Comments

[cueball]

[He waits until she comes closer, his expression unchanging as he observes her. While he was sure of it, as he was with all things, seeing her up close only confirmed what he already knew.]

I see. It really isn't a long time all things considered, but seeing you again like this is certainly a sight for sore eyes. [Then he grins.] Handmaid.

[corrodes]

[There's no mistaking his voice and the way he addresses her; it seems whatever befell her has changed him as well.]

I see I'm not the only one who has been brought here.

[She's still convinced Lord English has planned this out, of course. She doesn't choose to ask questions; if he has information to her she needs, Scratch will certainly supply it on his own.]

[cueball]

Certainly not. I hope my indecent appearance is not too jarring at this time.

[He ushers a hand to the other side of the bench, still free and open.] Sit.

[corrodes]

[She sits as directed.]

It's no more jarring than my own appearance.

[Which is to say it's annoying, but she can't bring herself to care outside of annoyance.]

[cueball]

Jarring isn't very good, but you will grow used to it. Least until my proper one is returned.

[But, moving away from that.]

This place is called Mayfield. It's a town in a foreign universe, on an alien planet called Earth. You've been turned into a human, the dominant form of life on this planet.

[corrodes]

So I've noticed.

[In regards to the "suddenly human" aspect, anyway.]

It seems there are trolls here, however.

[In troll bodies, which is the important part to her.]

[cueball]

Yes. After some time you may find your form returned to it's regular state. The trolls you saw are in that category. You will have to bear being human for the time being. Perhaps in a month, perhaps in a few. The same goes for your majyyks.