[Social] Heavy Metal Thunder, Racing With the Wind

[Wyll Wyldclay]

The Wyldclay had been told to stay in the Point, in a sort of dimensional quarantine while they were checked out after swapping dimensions.

...The techs there to keep an eye on them would wake up eventually. Pinky-swear promise. Heck, they might even enjoy what they remembered, if they remembered anything at all.

Instead, dressed in their fine-pressed white linen suit, dark shades, and bare feet, the Wyldclay strolled around the quad, exploring the strange new world in which they found themselves, which had such people in it.

((open))

[Robin Stanton]

"How retro." a pink-haired woman zipping around on heelies comments as she rolls into the same circular crossing of footpaths. She shifts her footing to roll a circle around Wyldclay before falling into a speed roughly matching his. "You got the oldies disco blues?" she intentionally muddles a bunch of music-eras together to annoy who she thinks is her dad.

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Is 'retro' not in this year?" the Wyldclay grinned. "These things come and go in cycles, you know. And it caught your attention, didn't it?"

[Robin Stanton]

"Duh, you're dressed like a revved up douche." Another swing and a miss on the decade, though this time unintentionally so. "No but seriously, what gives?"

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Just contemplating a world full of possible choices. Sartorial or otherwise," the Wyldclay grinned. "A land of opportunities."

[Robin Stanton]

"No, something funky is going on..." she narrows her eyes at her 'dad'. "Did somebody dump a whole season of Miami Vice into your fancy bucket? You're being weird."

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Miami Vice has nothing on me, Pink. I've got a much more exciting Don Johnson."

[Robin Stanton]

"Pink? You never call me that. Come on, out with it, what happened. Fry your brain? Ran through the washing machine with too much bleach and it scrubbed your noggin' clean? Drank from the wrong mystical river? Spit out one without all the memories? Got white-out spilled on you as a book? Laptop got factory-reset?"

[Samantha McManus]

At that point a certain redhead emerges from the Point. While she is at the moment distant (if colorful), the metaphorical stormcloud that precedes her is palpable.

[Wyll Wyldclay]

The Wyldclay stopped and looked at Robin, one eyebrow raised. They reached over and grabbed her chin, tilting her head up as they examined her. "Ah, so you and I have been familiar, then. Perhaps all I need is a refresher after what has been a very strenuous couple of days. Perhaps there's something we can do to help me feel more myself, yes?"

[Robin Stanton]

Robin lets her head get tilted for a moment before pulling her chin free.

"This sounds like something an impostor would say. 'Why hello, why don't you teach me how to act more convincingly'." she says. "I've seen Skrulls put on better performances." she adds just to push her dad's buttons.

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Perhaps we just need to change the stage," the Wyldclay grinned, leaning into Robin and placing one arm around her shoulder. "Somewhere where you can better evaluate my performance."

[Robin Stanton]

"Oh ewww!" Robin makes a gagging noise as she grabs Wyldclay's arm and throws it off. "Gross! You're not my Dad! Who are you!?"

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"I can be your daddy, if that's what you're looking for," the Wyldclay grinned. "That is, if you truly wanted to get to know me better."

[Samantha McManus]

The invisible sensation preceding her turns abruptly toward Robin and the Wyldclay, and the redhead marches across the quad toward them.

[Robin Stanton]

"No! Ugh... Seriously!?" she says, face literally fading to a hue of puke-green. "Who are you and why do you look like my Dad?" she demands, taking a step back and raising her arm that's narrowing to the point of a blade, pointed at Wyldclay.

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Ah! Your father is the milksop, I see! My deepest condolences to you, though you seem to have inherited a fiery spirit all your own. From your mother, one would presume.

I am the Wyldclay, and I am a stranger to these strange lands you hail from. A poor, pitiable soul trying to find their place in a rapidly changing world," they said, with a bow and a flourish.

[Samantha McManus]

"...who is not supposed to be out and about yet," Sam says pointedly as she nears.

[Robin Stanton]

"Okay first of all I don't hail--nevermind." she says, shaking her arm and letting it snap back into an arm with all the arm-bits generally associated with such. "And what do you mean strange lands? Where did you find this80s Shakespeare?"

[Samantha McManus]

"From the place that was causing all the singing and dancing nonsense."

"They may or may not be a lost bit of your father. We're still figuring it out, and it makes my bloody head hurt thinking too hard on it."

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"The Morrigan does not enjoy tripping the light fantastic. Far too nonsensical, and makes it tough to keep up the façade of seriousness and portent vital to her role. Well, we can't all be as flexible as the next, I suppose," the Wyldclay said, with a melodramatic sigh. "If you truly are a daughter of the clay, I'm sure you would have felt much more at home."

[Robin Stanton]

"You mean this is Dad? Ewww again!" she makes a face with her tongue hanging out. "Yuck. But wait... When did he even get lost? And how lost if he's all purple prose, all singing all dancing. Okay that last part's not too out of the ordinary."

[Samantha McManus]

"This one got adopted by the faerie courts instead of well-meaning American scientists. Hence why they're eighty percent David Bowie by weight."

[Will Stanton]

"And is undoubtedly better off from the trade, I must say."

[Robin Stanton]

"Fair enough. The vibes aren't bad. As long as they're not flirting with me."

"How'd you end up with the Fae though?"

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"The complete story is 14 verses long and requires four members of the High Summer court, ideally Violets or Yellows, to properly describe the portents and wonders associated with it. And the precise sorts of wind, flowing through the leaves of a three-year-old birch tree, though a hurdy-gurdy can substitute in a pinch.

The abbreviated version is that Lord Oberon himself found the shooting star that lit up the sky. An uncommon star that appeared shining in the evening, and soon going down: it was seen in the south-west, and the light which streamed from it seemed very long, shining towards the south-east; and it appeared after this manner nearly all the week. And with it, the soothsayers feared bad weather and a poor harvest. And Oberon did so take actions, though a series of proxies and intermediaries, to capture the light, and claim it for his own, and from there prevent the worst outcomes through his wisdom and cleverness. Placing the other courts in his debt, of course, and this is where the story dovetails back into the main narrative for a spell."

[Robin Stanton]

"Oberon plucked you from the heavens. Wow, Mum would have an aneurysm." she laughs, more amused than dismissive.

[Samantha McManus]

"You see what I'm getting at though, aye? When your dad got put into the cosmic blender."

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"And the cream rose to the top, as it is wont to do."

[Robin Stanton]

"You mean he didn't just end up here but other places too!?"

[Samantha McManus]

"I feel like if you go tumbling across parallel worlds in an uncontrolled manner, things get bloody weird, bloody quick?"

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"I still am mostly taking your word for these things," the Wyldclay acknowledged. "I do not suppose you'd have the stomach for setting up a jest of this magnitude, but you must admit, the entire thing sounds quite farfetched."

[Robin Stanton]

"You do seem a lot more... off. No offense."

[Samantha McManus]

"It's hard to place what part of Will's psyche they are, or were when it happened. They've got a mind like broken glass, now."

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Sharp and reflective, precisely," the Wyldclay nodded.

[Robin Stanton]

"And that's different from the cauldron of Dad Soup?"

[Samantha McManus]

"It feels different. It's... hard to explain."

[Robin Stanton]

"Gotcha." she nods. Sometimes stuff is just too tied into mutations and she's somewhat used to taking a Samantha by her word on such matters.

"So what, the plan is for you to hang around? Join the rest of him? At this point one more Dad's just a drop in the bucket." she grins.

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"The plan, such as it was, was for me to to get protection and aid while I explore certain newfound abilities and freedoms that were not previously available to me for reasons that are beyond the scope of this conversation. Aligning with someone with a certain... standing seemed ideal, at the time, and a savvy negotiation tactic by yours truly sealed the deal."

[Robin Stanton]

"Aaah, I see. You cleverly tricked the Morrigan into admitting you to her flock." she nods and winks at Wyll.