deercountry | [OPEN] Disaster's just another word for life

Who: Saeri and YOU.
What: TDM prompts so bodyswaps, hellhounds, shenanigans, oh my!
When: End of March, beginning of April
Where: Around Trench

Content Warnings: Language, potential body dissociation or dysphoria, violence, etc.

[She is a bit on edge, maybe. This past month she'd been waiting, expecting something to happen. It always seemed to around this time of year. Shit would go wrong, she'd get herself into some other mess, or she'd disappear and come back months later wondering how things could be even worse than last time.

Because things are always changing. Winter moving into spring and the world decides that Saeri's luck has run out. She'd been prepping, waiting, wondering what would happen this time...and so far it had been nothing. March had been weirdly quiet for her. Shit was happening around town and the Moss King knew how to fuck with people, but somehow she'd avoided a lot of the worst of it.

You would think that would make her feel relieved, but no. That is not how Trench works. That is not how her life works. Whatever little trickles of hope that maybe things would stay that way were of course stupid and she reminds herself not to fall for them. She may be great at acting like nothing matters and she rolls with all the punches, but that didn't mean she wasn't slowly twisting herself into a pretzel of anticipatory anxiety. Something is going to happen. Something had to happen to justify all this pent up tension she's had for days now. If nothing happens, then she's been worrying and stressing over nothing and isn't that even worse?

And that's when a golden moth crosses her path and whoever might be near her at the time. There's a golden light and you might just fine yourself in the body of a 6-foot-2 nineteen-year old girl with a metal arm that runs on magic. The arm? Her whole body? Yes.

Of course, this might just be even more sticky of a situation if it occurs while the lanterns are malfunctioning and you have to take those slow treks between the various districts of Trench. If this keeps up, Saeri might just start taking her Carriage House everywhere instead of leaving it in Willful Machine. Especially if something happens to be following them...]

{OOC: Saeri's anxiety and paranoia has been not-so-slowly increasing for months now so it's time for her to lose her shit over the most ridiculous and downright silly event like it's the worst thing that could ever happen. And be chased by hellhounds.}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Ozpin has a great deal of experience finding himself in an unfamiliar body and having to adjust. Typically, though, he can ride along as a secondary presence while the body's usual inhabitant retains control. That does make for easier adjustment periods on everyone involved; it gives him a chance to explain the situation and present himself as little more than a reasonably benevolent haunting.

That is not quite what happens here.

Saeri will find her own face blinking back at her, astonishment gradually shading to incredulity. She's even taller, now— and thin, male, evidently human, dressed in a filigreed green tailcoat. The person in her body is processing what has happened, but with the growing resignation of a man who's spent years enduring this sort of sudden chaos.

With Saeri's voice and a tone of absolute defeat, Ozpin says: ] Ah.

[Suddenly too tall, even thinner than normal, and wearing glasses that are ridiculously tiny. It's like everything skews to a half-tilt and she's staring at herself.]

What the hell? Just--what the hell? [Okay, this is weird as fuck. She looks down at her hands.]

Who thought this was a great idea? Because it is not. Very very very not.

[And why is she the only one reacting right now???]

[ Before her eyes, her body sighs heavily. Ozpin tries to draw himself upright into prim and proper posture— but the metal arm doesn't respond as he expects it to, and he frowns down at it, flexing the fingers in jerky and inconsistent movements. ]

Well. It seems this is the latest exercise set to us by the Pthumerians, and certainly a bit more... involved than our last.

[ He seems weirdly fine with this, already. ]

[Staring at herself--her body, not herself, that's not her, she's in this body that is definitely not hers. It's not even a cute girl's body!]

You know I am about 10 seconds from freaking out and you acting like this is no big deal is definitely not helping. I have put way too much effort into keeping that body alive to trade it out for another model that doesn't even have breasts.

[Maybe that's for the best. This should not be how that happens for the first time. These is also not the thoughts she needs to be having right now while trapped in someone else's body.

Unconsciously she runs the right hand over the left hand. The left whole arm. That really drags it home.]

Shit. We need to undo this.

[ That's certainly an angle to take, and Ozpin looks at her in mild, teacherly reproach. ]

I'm afraid that in a situation such as this, undoing it is likely to be a rather roundabout endeavor. If there is a cure we can influence, it's likely to be a solution we can only come to together.

[ Implied: sometimes the Pthumerians just foist these things on them. Ozpin is routinely at a loss for how to crack a given curse. ]

[Oh fucking hell. Did she sound like that? No, she can't possibly sound like that normally. It's how he talks. She doesn't sound like a snooty professor. Definitely not. Robby would have said something. Right?]

Yeah, sure, together. Not a problem. We just need to research known bodyswapping incidents, hunt down a golden bug and figure out which Patron is feeling like a troll this week.

[Her money is on this being one of the "nicer" ones because of course they would think this shit was cute.]

[ In tones of pointed patience: ]

We might have the most luck if we can identify common themes in the season. It stands to reason this would be about 'walking a mile in another's shoes,' as it were.

[ He continues to talk like this is a lesson opportunity. Also, he continues to ineffectively flex her metal fingers. ]

Perhaps it's a trial of understanding... a test of perspective.

Not sure it's better to rehash shit I learned before I hit puberty, but sure. Fine. Lets walk.

[She says it with so much frustration and borderline anger because she is probably a string's breadth away from losing all of her shit right now. Sometimes she feels like her body is too small and too big at the same time, but right now it definitely feels like she's annoyingly large. And his glasses are annoyingly tiny. And watching him try to mess with her arm is enough to make her want to smack him because he's doing it wrong.

She's not normally this impatient. This easy to frustrate. Calm down, Saeri, what the hell.]

Look--just--will you stop that? You can't make it work like it's a regular hand, you have to move it like you're moving controls. Your using a different part of the brain.

[ He looks a little affronted at her bluntness, and only tenuously patient with this explanation. ]

'Moving controls' leaves me with rather little to go on. Perhaps if I better understood what it is I'm working with...?

[Stop losing it, Saeri. Calm down. It's not that big of a deal even if every little thing is enough to be a big deal to her right now.]

So you don't have much experience with construction machinery or video games, I'm guessing. [She lets out a sigh.]

You need think of it like you're working a remote control. Instead of feeling like you are moving the hand on its own, think of it like...you're holding onto the control that is moving the hand. Your arm is an extension of that control and thus your can move the hand.

[OPEN] Disaster's just another word for life

golden moth

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