i. arrival, adjustment, introductions

[demiurgency]

WHO: Billy Kaplan
WHERE: South Village fountain, Inn, schoolhouse
WHEN: November 20 through the following few days
OPEN TO: Starters for Tommy Shepherd and Wanda Maximoff, OTA for the rest
WARNINGS: Nada so far!

---

[Arrival-closed to Tommy]

He isn't expecting this dimension to be underwater. None of the rest of them have been underwater--well, there had been that one, the sunken New York filled with Atlanteans, but there had been a dome, and there was still air. Maybe that's why he's surprised to open his mouth to breathe and find nothing but water instead. The panic kicks in before he begins to choke, and Billy desperately kicks for the surface--surface? That's gotta be the surface, right--not even thinking to reach for his magic. He can't cast a spell if he can't speak, after all, and so he kicks with all he has, not even thinking about how easy it actually is, not thinking about how his cloak should be dragging him down, until he finally breaches the surface, gasping and choking. Flailing, wildly, he looks around. What is this? A fountain? That's a first. And where are the others?

Kicking for the side of the fountain, Billy hauls himself over the edge and is crouching on the cool stones next to the lip when he notices the next weird thing. He isn't wearing his costume anymore. He's wearing...green scrubs? Like, hospital scrubs? There's no sign of his cloak anywhere. Or his suit. Or any of the others. Standing and pushing his dripping hair off of his face, Billy lifts his hands to cup them to his mouth. It's not the best idea, but then, what is, these days? Has he had any good ideas since that last, first, most terrible idea, months ago now?

"Kate! Noh-Varr! David!! America!!! Any of you out there??" After a pause with no answer to his shouting, he tries again, with the least likely to respond, and the most likely to be the reason he's here in the first place. "Loki??? Anyone????"

[Introductions-closed to Wanda]

Okay. It's okay. He can do this. He can totally do this.

The internal pep talk doesn't really work. He's still standing there on that porch, hand lifted to knock but not quite there yet. Tommy had explained it all: alternate dimension, bunch of people there, no one from their home universe, but a bunch of familiar names from different versions. Including her. Wanda. The Scarlet Witch. He knows she isn't the same, but the lack of his magic is already an ache deep in his chest, a hollow he can't quite seem to ignore. If anyone would understand, it's her. Whatever version of her she is, he knows she'd understand. And Tommy's already told her about their own connection to her--the other version of her, anyway. It shouldn't be that hard.

Come on, dummy, knock before someone sees you standing here like a creep.

Taking a deep breath, Billy knocks on the door of House 20, weight shifting from foot to foot as he waits for someone to answer the door.

[Adjustment-OTA]

After getting the full rundown from Tommy (and maybe having several mild panic attacks in a row about most of it), Billy eventually settles on a plan. First things first, to the Inn. He needs to eat something, and he's heard there's a stockpile of clothes there, which is good because a. it's kind of freezing, and b. he's just given away his dry set of green scrubs to his brother. Thankfully, there's a small assortment of things that are both dry and warm, and after a quick change, Billy's back downstairs to spend some time just...figuring things out.

The best place to do that seems to be the schoolhouse, honestly; he's never been the outdoorsy type, and there is a lot to learn. The reading helps. This place has a book on everything. It also keeps him distracted. No thinking about the loss of his magic, no thinking about the loss of his friends, no thinking about Teddy or the dozen or so sick people now apparently recovering from a plague or something just up the road. Instead, just books. Billy reads like he's cramming for the SATs all over again, and for the next few days after he arrives, chances are you'll find him traveling back and forth in a triangle between House 58, the Inn, and the schoolhouse, nose buried in a book no matter where he is. He's probably not even watching where he's walking, honestly--sorry about that, whoops.

Comments

Schoolhouse

[cryptoherpetology]

"Hey, don't mind me," says a man in black scrubs and dark-rimmed glasses. He's carrying a pretty impressive stack of books to return, but possibly more noticiable is the dilute-calico peahen kitten perched regally on his shoulder.

"I'm going to regret letting you do this when you're big enough that I actually feel your weight," he says idly to the little creature as he goes about putting the books back.
"But at least you're flightless." He smiles, and scritches her under the chin. It's nice being able to take his avian-feline pet out without having to worry about it being a Problem, and he's trying to encourage her to imprint on him as much as possible, since she's hopefully the only one of the litter he'll be keeping for himself.

Schoolhouse

[demiurgency]

"Hmm? Oh, no worries," Billy answers a little belatedly, lifting his head from where it's buried in yet another book. There's a stack that's practically a fort built up around him on the desk he's chosen, more books than one could practically read at any given time, but once Billy commits to something he commits a hundred percent. Besides, he isn't sure what he's going to need to know, here. It seems like anything could happen, from what Tommy's told him and what he's gathered from the others. That stack is why it maybe takes him a moment or three longer than it would for him to notice the tiny, weird-looking cat perched on Alex's shoulder, but when he does, he lights up, standing up from his seat to get a better look.

"Hey--is that a cat?" It doesn't look exactly like a cat--are those feathers?--but it's tiny and adorable and the first one he's seen, which means it's impossible to resist moving closer to get a better look.

[cryptoherpetology]

"Kind of? I've been calling them peacats. If she were a boy, it'd be a little more obvious why," he answers. "They secrete some kind of oil or pheromone that has a mildly intoxicating effect. I'm trying to desensitize myself to it."

By this he means he's been practicing not looking like he feels like every single kitten video on YouTube is flowing through his veins. He's getting pretty good at it!

[demiurgency]

"She's adorable," he says, already entranced as he comes around the side of his desk, books forgotten for the moment. "Peacat, like peacock cat? I mean, I guess that explains the feathers." He pauses mid-step at the rest, hand already half-lifted to offer to the tiny, precious thing.

"Oh--is she safe to touch? I mean, of course she is, she's on your shoulder--I mean, can I pet her? She's really cute."

[cryptoherpetology]

"If you don't mind feeling a little perkier than when you came in here," Alex says, scooping the tiny bird-cat-thing up with one hand to hold her out. "I've been giving her and the other six we found during the mining expedition regular baths in hot spring water to clear up some fungal infections in their feathers. It seems to be dulling the intoxicating effect of their skin oils. At least I think that's the source of the intoxicating effect they have. So you'll get a smaller dose today than you would normally."

Seriously, what he wouldn't give for an electron microscope.

[demiurgency]

"I definitely don't mind. I don't think perky is a word I've been able to use to describe how I'm feeling in a really, really long time," he admits, maybe a little more honestly than he'd intended, but it's true. Life has kind of sucked for a little while now. It's great having Tommy back, finally, but that doesn't fix any of the rest of his fuck-ups back home, and it doesn't get him his friends back, or his parents, or his life, or Teddy. He definitely doesn't want to get addicted to holding a cat, but hey, aren't pets supposed to cause endorphin release or something anyway, even when they aren't magic?

Reaching out, he runs very delicate fingertips over the top of the kitten's head, scratching gently behind the ears, and he can't help the soft grin that spreads over his face. It might be the skin oils he's talking about, but honestly? It's just as likely to be the incredibly cute tiny kitten just as a general concept. "This is honestly the highlight of my day so far," he says, sounding better already. Then after a beat: "...Don't tell my brother that."

[cryptoherpetology]

Alex chuckles a little, handing the cat over to Billy to hold. She's a docile enough little kitten- at least, at the moment, eager to nuzzle against offered hands and bask in the glow of being adored.

"Careful, she's already an expert in emotional manipulation," he says with a note of humor- and affection- in his voice.

Boudica practically vibrates with the force of her purring. Either she's a naturally affectionate cat, or Alex has been making sure to get her used to human (and human like) handling.

[demiurgency]

Billy grins wider at Alex's words, laughing softly as he takes the tiny critter gently, cradling her in one hand against his chest and stroking her delicately under the chin. "You aren't kidding, god," he says quietly, not wanting to talk too loudly and disturb the adorable rumble machine against his chest. "I've never had any kind of pet before, but if you ever need someone to keep an eye on her for a while, I'm so there." The kitten is absolutely irresistibly adorable, and he would take one in a heartbeat if he knew how to take care of it.

"This is exactly what I needed today, thanks."

[cryptoherpetology]

"I'll have to keep that in mind- and there seem to be a few species here that make decent pets. The crocodile dogs are popular, and seem to take to people pretty quickly." He honestly can't figure them out- something that small should be less inherently trusting of humans.

Unless they're the feral descendants of something some former population bred for that kind of personality.

"No intoxicating secretions though. Or feathers. Or even fur, really."

[demiurgency]

"I think I've seen those. Or something that looks close enough. Are they really part crocodile, or are they just called that because of the way their faces look?" They are kind of cute, too, in that Uglydolls kind of way. He's always had a soft spot for the weird things. But the kitten (now purring against his chest, ugh, how cute is that) is still definitely a standout favorite. "This place has a lot of animal hybrids I'd never even heard of before, outside of like, weird frankensteined jackalope taxidermy."

[cryptoherpetology]

"As far as I can tell, they're entirely mammallian. Or possibly therapsid- which is, a sort of early, reptile-like mammal," he explains, trying not to fall into his Tour Group Voice. Speaking to teenagers in that voice usually gets him heckled. Though, Billy is reminding him enough of the zoo visitors that he likes the most- the kids who come by to study or even draw the snakes and lizards for hours, happy to be left alone while they write their notes or doodle. When they ask questions, they're always the kind he has to think about the answers to.

"Behaviorally, they're purely canine. Excitable, loyal, extremely friendly and really affectionate."

[demiurgency]

Billy's a geek for a lot of things. Normal animals might not be one of them, but he's always had a fondness for the weird, and are cryptids really that far off from some of the things he's used to back home? Besides, it seems like a good idea to learn as much as he can about the kinds of things he's not used to at all back home. Squirrels are normal, so are possums and raccoons, but peacats and croc-dogs? Not so much.

"Sounds like a pretty good animal to have around," he says, gently and a little reluctantly handing the kitten back to Alex as it stretches and yawns. "Do you think they were domesticated before? Like, pets for anyone who was here before the people were?" Because loyalty and friendliness like that were bred traits, right?

[cryptoherpetology]

"Either that, or they evolved with no natural predators, whether that was here or not. Like quokkas. But the neediness reminds me a lot of selectively bred canines. They really could be the feral descendants of someone else's pets. If they're not native, they've at least been here long enough to have settled into their own ecological niche that doesn't seem to compete with anything else's."