WHO: Athessa, Madi, and YOU WHAT: post-Dream catch-all WHEN: after part 2 of dream time WHERE: The Gallows/Kirkwall NOTES: tags will be slow, brain still bad
Athessa sits on the edge of the low wall beside Mado, legs swinging loosely and rebounding every time her heel bumps against the stone. Their training for the day is finished, and as they are wont to do after such things they're taking a little break and eating lunch before returning to the Gallows.
And if Mado's been talking, Athessa has only barely registered it, too lost in thought to do the whole active listening thing. So when she speaks up, abruptly, she might be interrupting him — she hopes she isn't, but hey, what can ya do — but might be isn't enough to stop her from asking:
"What does it feel like? When you, ya know...are a dog."
Mado has been talking idly about something or another, but he's between sentences and doesn't seem all that upset by the interruption. He does look askance at her, however, his smile giving way to a look of mild trepidation as he glances around. No one is nearby, at least.
"Rather like being a man, but smaller," he answers, the corner of his mouth quirking up with humor, "and easier. People are kinder."
"A smaller man, huh," she echoes, contemplative. She takes another bite of her food — some kind of hand-pie full of...whatever, meat and vegetables — and sorts through the myriad questions she has about man dog dog man dog to pick which one should be asked first.
"Makes sense that people'd be nicer to a dog than anything else. Do you still think the same? Or is it different? I mean...you can understand people as a dog, but you can't speak, but...do you still think in words? Do you think in words as a person? I guess I never thought about whether or not I think in words or if I just think and...the thoughts become words..."
Gently knocking his heels against the wall, Mado smiles to himself, and has to take a moment to think hard about her question.
"It's sort of like a music, I think," he decides wistfully, "when there's no need to use words, you sort of stop thinking about them, and just imagine what you want. Warmth, food, a scratch behind your ear. When you're hungry, do you think out the sentence 'I want to eat something?' Or do you just go find something to eat?"
"Weird. Or...not weird but...interesting. Are you able to talk or uh—" She waves in a circular gesture, searching for the word. "—Communicate? With other dogs? Or other animals in general?"
"Yes, in a way. I've learned from them." He looks down at his feet, still smiling as if over a private joke. "They don't like me much, in either form. I think they can tell."
"That's a shame. Maybe you smell too people-y for them," she ventures. "What kinda stuff have you learned? Just like, how to be convincing, where to look for food and that?"
"I think so," he muses, "they know when something's amiss. Everything smells much different to dogs-- if I were one now I could tell you where you've been before this and what you've eaten today."
He scratches behind one ear.
"I find that one's nose does most of the work when it comes to food-- as for being convincing, most people won't look twice at a street dog unless it's walking on its hind legs." He grins. "And, I mean, there's a time and a place for that."
He scratches behind his ear again, really leaning into it this time-- how are there still fleas in winter, and what can he do to convince them to leave when he's not a dog anymore?
"The cat, so to speak, may be out of the bag for more than one." His smile is both gentle and frightened.
Mado opens his mouth to speak, then closes it with a thoughtful frown.
"Perhaps I'd better not say," he muses, "they may have secrets of their own that they'd prefer not be blabbed about." He shrugs helplessly at Athessa, his smile returning. "One never knows."
"Yeah if there's one thing Riftwatch has an abundance of it's secret-havers." Bloody typical, innit. "Are you...worried about them telling someone? Or worried that they know or...?"
Mado's smile is soft, and he sighs out at the skyline.
"I don't know," he admits, "I don't know what I'm worried about." Kick-kick go his heels on the stone below. "I suppose that when you have lived your life one way for so long, you want to hope that, when it changes, it might be on your own terms."
"That's fair," she says, also kicking her feet loosely. After a moment of mulling it over, she shrugs a shoulder.
"I think you still have a chance for that, actually. I mean, unless someone made an announcement I'm not aware of, whoever it is that saw you change in the dream hasn't told anyone. Or at least nobody who'd say as much. So if you wanted to make sure it was on your terms, even if your hand's been forced, I think you can.
"And if nothing else, I think here's probably the safest place for that secret to get out."
"Colin won't tell anyone," she says automatically, completely certain of that. She would of course love to ask how Edgard knows, when until today she thought it was just herself and Yseult who were privy to his abilities, but he's back on the dream and she decides not to press.
"Do you think you might be able to do that for real? Jenny-Lou can—could do that, and it was really helpful when we were all stuck in the Donnarks."
"I could try," he muses, and taps his finger against his lips in thought.
"I haven't thought to do it yet. I don't even remember when I started being a dog! It just sort of happened one day, I thought about it and then I could do it."
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mado.
And if Mado's been talking, Athessa has only barely registered it, too lost in thought to do the whole active listening thing. So when she speaks up, abruptly, she might be interrupting him — she hopes she isn't, but hey, what can ya do — but might be isn't enough to stop her from asking:
"What does it feel like? When you, ya know...are a dog."
Re: mado.
He does look askance at her, however, his smile giving way to a look of mild trepidation as he glances around. No one is nearby, at least.
"Rather like being a man, but smaller," he answers, the corner of his mouth quirking up with humor, "and easier. People are kinder."
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"Makes sense that people'd be nicer to a dog than anything else. Do you still think the same? Or is it different? I mean...you can understand people as a dog, but you can't speak, but...do you still think in words? Do you think in words as a person? I guess I never thought about whether or not I think in words or if I just think and...the thoughts become words..."
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"It's sort of like a music, I think," he decides wistfully, "when there's no need to use words, you sort of stop thinking about them, and just imagine what you want. Warmth, food, a scratch behind your ear.
When you're hungry, do you think out the sentence 'I want to eat something?' Or do you just go find something to eat?"
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"Weird. Or...not weird but...interesting. Are you able to talk or uh—" She waves in a circular gesture, searching for the word. "—Communicate? With other dogs? Or other animals in general?"
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"Yes, in a way. I've learned from them." He looks down at his feet, still smiling as if over a private joke.
"They don't like me much, in either form. I think they can tell."
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He scratches behind one ear.
"I find that one's nose does most of the work when it comes to food-- as for being convincing, most people won't look twice at a street dog unless it's walking on its hind legs." He grins. "And, I mean, there's a time and a place for that."
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After all, they have spent a good chunk of the day together thus far. She thinks by now he'd be able to figure those things out even if they hadn't.
"But honestly, that's a pretty invaluable skill in our work. Going unnoticed."
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"Yes, I've been glad to manage it so far," he says, quirking a smile, "though I admit last night made things a little... ah. Tricky. I suppose."
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At a guess, someone saw him turn into a dog.
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He scratches behind his ear again, really leaning into it this time-- how are there still fleas in winter, and what can he do to convince them to leave when he's not a dog anymore?
"The cat, so to speak, may be out of the bag for more than one." His smile is both gentle and frightened.
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"Perhaps I'd better not say," he muses, "they may have secrets of their own that they'd prefer not be blabbed about." He shrugs helplessly at Athessa, his smile returning.
"One never knows."
no subject
"Yeah if there's one thing Riftwatch has an abundance of it's secret-havers." Bloody typical, innit. "Are you...worried about them telling someone? Or worried that they know or...?"
no subject
"I don't know," he admits, "I don't know what I'm worried about." Kick-kick go his heels on the stone below.
"I suppose that when you have lived your life one way for so long, you want to hope that, when it changes, it might be on your own terms."
no subject
"I think you still have a chance for that, actually. I mean, unless someone made an announcement I'm not aware of, whoever it is that saw you change in the dream hasn't told anyone. Or at least nobody who'd say as much. So if you wanted to make sure it was on your terms, even if your hand's been forced, I think you can.
"And if nothing else, I think here's probably the safest place for that secret to get out."
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"It may have only been Colin," he admits, thinking back, "...and Edgard, but he already knew." Don't ask.
A little smile flickers back onto his face.
"I also dreamt I could be a bird."
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"Do you think you might be able to do that for real? Jenny-Lou can—could do that, and it was really helpful when we were all stuck in the Donnarks."
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"I could try," he muses, and taps his finger against his lips in thought.
"I haven't thought to do it yet. I don't even remember when I started being a dog! It just sort of happened one day, I thought about it and then I could do it."
A goal for the future, perhaps.
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"If you do try, I wanna be there for it. In case it works."
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"More likely it won't," he admits, "is that what you really want to see?"
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He gestures vaguely with his hands, moving them as if weighing something invisible.
"Some parts change and others don't. It can be a mess."
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"So you mean...you might end up with wings instead of arms but otherwise look normal?"
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