savetheearth | receive and transmit

WHO; Elian & Julian (& anyone else who stumbles across them)
WHEN; Leeeeeeet's set it as the 7th
WHERE; The teleporter in the Neuschwanstein area.
WHAT; Elian tries the teleporter for the first time, with interesting results. Contains glorious spam psuedosololog at first.
WARNINGS; (Mild?) body horror due to shifting of insides.

With his stay at the hotel running out, there was really no putting it off any longer. Elian had packed his things, ensured they'd be safe, and set off to follow the directions given.

Almost as an afterthought, he'd made a set of detours - first at a sports shop, and then back where he'd left behind most of his items. Then he set off again, shouldering a golf bag, and with a sword hilt sticking out of it like some sort of odd club. The thought of it falling in to another's hands was unnervingly distressing, and even if he wasn't quite ready to wield it as the weapon it was, he decided to at least keep it close to him.

(It also made a good place to pack some of his other things. He had no idea what to expect with all this, but better safe than sorry.)

Then he could make his way to this - teleporter, as they called it - and give it a long few minutes of examination. He had no reason to doubt it worked, but wariness warred with outright curiosity. How did it work? Who'd built it? A few questions to ask others, once he had the chance, but for now...

For now, it was worth a try.

He palmed the interface, eyes widening slightly at the display, and - after a moment of hesitation - touched the area in Europe. Far enough away from any place he'd been, from what he could tell, and...what a curious symbol. Some sort of depiction of Cygnus?

A few more long minutes of hesitation...and then he stepped forwards

and

he hadn't realized he'd fallen until his forearm hit the floor, instinct keeping him from hitting his head, but even then it was hard to tell what was going on through the sudden twisting within him

as if parts and pieces were stretch-shaping themselves and it hurt

he considered himself far from a weakling but it Hurt and he wanted to shout for help but he couldn't even speak
it felt like something was shifting in his own throat

and his hands curled in to fists, digging in to his palms, hyperaware that something was going on one of those blasted Echoes but he could barely think on that too because it wasn't just a pain from inside

it was memory

i've done this before

but collapsed on the ground like this, staring wide-eyed at nothing, it was no comfort at all because he didn't remember it hurting like this.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There were a few things Julien had left in the Vegas suite he'd shared with Isabela. Things had cooled abruptly between them, but he'd decided to try and get them back while she was in Locke. If nothing else he knew he could pick the lock.

That left his thoughts when he saw someone he knew crumpled in the cave the Numbered used to cross zones. "Elian!"

Julien ran up, dropped to a crouch, and ponderously knelt. He wasn't very stable kneeling, his feet stretched out behind him with the toes curled in loose fists. "Hey, what happened?" What was left of his hands were hampered and his prehensile feathers weren't that sensitive. He peered at the old man's skin looking for his pulse.

And now he was hearing things?

Feeling things, too, apparently, or-not. Elian shook his head fuzzily, managing to look up towards the source, and-

"Julian?"

His voice itself felt strange, but- not painful. Indeed, the rest of it was fading slowly, a sort of numb tingle starting to creep in.

The alien calm that the Apostle felt whenever things got heated flooded Julien's veins. Okay. Alive, conscious, responsive. Better than he'd feared. "Don't worry, it's me. You don't have to talk yet. Did you- was that a pulse?"

Folding a wing more tightly, his prehensile feathers twitched and writhed into the messenger bag he carried everywhere, bringing out a thermos and a packet of greenery. In the months since it had happened his horror about his body being like this had ebbed until it didn't hit him often at all, but he still liked to carry the stuff that helped with it. Julien got the thermos open and poured the dried athelas into the lukewarm water.

It would have had more of an effect if the leaves were fresher and the water hotter. Still, the vaguely mintlike green smell bloomed outwards, bracing.

"I...think so."

It still had an affect, if only in memory; it hadn't been the first time Elian had tasted such a drink, much less smelled it. To be fair, the last time he'd tasted it was after separate sort of fall...

Nonetheless, he already felt a bit better, reaching to rub at his face with an embarrassed grimace. Damn his age, and whatever that had been. More ache than pain, now, the numbness warring with recent flashes of...

Whatever it was.

He managed a quiet, if rare, curse.

"I'll be all right in a moment, I think..."

Julien touched his arms with curling feathers, very lightly. "Hang in there, Elian. The weakness will pass. Did I ever tell you about when my hair turned white? I zoned out in the middle of a conversation, was totally unresponsive for about a minute. It freaked my sister right out. This stuff happens, unfortunately."

He debated offering to help Elian sit up, but the old man was looking stronger already and Julien well knew how awful it felt to think someone thought you helpless. He'd wait a bit.

The different subject is a welcome one. "White?" he asks, glancing up as he reaches to rub his face. "You're far too young for that."

Echoes aside.

He manages to at least prop himself up, though it can't quite be properly called a 'sit'. "Am I going to have to worry about this every time I use the blasted thing?" he asks after another moment, frowning behind his hand.

"I know, right?" He was pleased Elian was pulling together well enough to be distracted. "It turned to hair-ish feathers like a year ago. Gotta say it's a lot easier to dye now, but I have to get my eyelashes and eyebrows too or they're practically invisible."

Julien smiled sympathetically. "I think it's a pulse on the first use. Other than that it's kinda disorienting, especially if you stay long enough for jet lag, but nothing too bad."

"That would have been nice to be warned about." There's irritation there, but also forced humor; Elian's way of coping with things, in general is with what humor he can find if he cannot simply avoid it all period. "I think I would much prefer some other..."

He trails off, furrowing his brow. Wait a moment. And then his eyes widen with sudden realization.

"That- bag. I was carrying, it must have fallen off-"

It's actually just behind him, but he hasn't quite glanced at his back yet.

"Sorry. I didn't know you were coming! Was this a spur of the moment thing?" Probably because the pulse it had given him had been so minor, Julien hadn't remembered.

He frowned when Elian did. "This one?" He indicated it with a great tapering feather.

"I'd wanted to come sooner or later..." It wasn't as though he'd actually penned it in on his schedule. Frustrating. And yet-"yes, that one."

But as opposed to grabbing the strap, his hand reached for the hilt jutting out - and, slowly, began to pull the entire blade free.

"Um... Elian?" Julien straightened up, still balanced on his knees.

"Mm?"

It's a bit of a bland look he gives Julian, as though unsheathing a weapon is the most normal thing in the world for him. Then it seems to hit him, and he has the grace to wince, a bit.

"Sorry, I- think I may have remembered something about it."

A beat.

"I'm not so sure it's actually a sword."

As leggy as Julien was the process of going from from kneeling to crouching was neither quick nor graceful. He had to wallow, tail spreading along the ground, putting a wing down and leaning on it so he could move the opposite leg back and around, toes splaying as they took his weight.

"It looks like one to me!" If you want to wave that around can you not do it at me, he wants to say, and that crossed his face before he smooths it. "What'd you remember?"

To his credit, Elian's paused in the unsheathing, resting his hand on the hilt with the weapon half-revealed. Or - whatever it is. "A tool," he explains, as if describing the most normal ting in the world, but...

He reaches up for his hair, gripping it loosely.

"I'm sorry," he says again, looking a bit embarrassed. "I simply- here, let me just..."

The old man manages to turn himself, and the blade, until it's pointed the opposite direction of Julian. A few more seconds of work, and there it is, strange alien metal and all.

It certainly looks like a sword, and he seems to be perplexed, but still looking at it in an entirely new light.

Julien considers a sarcastic response, but stress hasn't eroded his equanimity quite enough for that. He half stands to see better. "You remember - what, doing something with it?"

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