So What Else Is Weird

[rassafraggin]

You feel the mental tingle of a familiar presence. Someone is trying to reach you via your Trump.

The image of Raphaela is in her study, head on papers "Save me. I will die of boredom."

A nod to the others as Merri comes out of the crouch to creep back from the edge of the precipice and find a spot out of the wind and out of spotting range of the camp's aerial support. With the trump deck rifled out and Ruby's shuffled to the front, it's come down to several seconds of study on the cooling card... when the effort just... stalls out! Merri blinks and headshakes, squints at the trump again, then realizes. "Wait.. oh! Raph. Hey. What." Connection thus established.

There's something odd, though.

The image of Raphaela blinks and sits up "What?"

Merrisol's face looks strange, finer and narrower overall. The deep voice is lifted in pitch and tone. It's astral wave distortion! Or the Pattern is in need of a tune up. Because the alternative is shadow shenanigans. Yeah, it's probably that. "Nevermind, uh, just your timing is... well." The trumps are pocketed again, for now, and a longer gaze contemplating the paper-burdened Raph.

The image of Raphaela's eyes squint at the image she sees. "Fuffy? That you?"

Merrisoleil pauses... "Yes, Raph. Still me," she sighs in a huff for having forgotten. Like she's just so comfortable in this skin now. "It's temporary." She shifts to a subvocal mode of trumptalk to add, "From a potion. To help us fit in here." It isn't /so/ different, a female Fuff. Only now he can join the Secret Girls Club!

The image of Raphaela saw weirder shit "What are you up to??" then in a moment "Can I join?"

Merrisoleil points out, "You're already a girl." Oh. Durr. "Probably, though you need to know some things first. This is enemy territory, as close to behind their lines as we've found thus far. Far beyond the Amber shadows. We've inserted ourselves with Ruby's people.. the.. the native populace." Not precisely accurate, but she keeps it simple. "We're not to demonstrate any magical ability in their presence.. to be safe."

The image of Raphaela hmphs "I am not magic. Cold?" she rises, looking at the trump, getting her satchel.

"No, blazing hot when there's sun." Merri's tan is darker than usual, for evidence. Raph's pale skin might sizzle and blister up in a minute. "And critters you won't want to meet up close. How Ruby plans on offloading her Ark here without an instant massacre... hm. Wonder if salting could help with that." What, a tastier massacre?

The image of Raphaela twitches and heads to a hidden wardrobe. "Cibola outfit then." she starts peeling of Amber layers, switching quite swiftly, and also utterly unworried, placing card on a shelf while undressing and getting, presumably, Cibola kit bag.

Merrisol's brows, still thick and blond, quirk at realizing she's becoming captive audience to some locker room antics. It's okay, we're all girls here, right! Admittedly girls don't often do that while, albeit on a meta plane, gazing intently into each other's eyes. "You know, you... could... just... call me back?"

The image of Raphaela hmphs "You might already start without me by the time I change. Not risking it." her eyes are quite blank as she kicks off heavy boots, it might be slightly anticlimactic tho, because she merely remains in black pants, takes other pants over shoulder and merely changes shirt. Her undergarments being nothing remarkable and hidden with black tank top, if he hoped for anything well. poor girl dude. She tosses lighter pants over her shoulder witht he satchel and shoes in hand says "Ready."

The image of Raphaela was seriously, more nude in some Rebman situations.

Merrisoleil replies evenly still, "Start what.. a war?" Her eyes wander, but surely it's for a peripheral awareness of her immediate surroundings, leaving just enough of her mind on Raph to keep the connection going on her end. "No chance of that. Prefer to figure out how to stop one from happening. We'll need to get back to base where Ruby is.. I hope she is. But before that," she decides, "this is something you should see." And she goes on the move again, backing down a rocky slope, away from the group on the ledge and the parked monowheels.

Privately, to Merrisol, Raphaela takes the hand and arches a brow "What what?" she is used to jumping in and out of weird stuff sans context.

While the handshake is established, Merri remains crouched rather sneakily among some uneven knolls which make up the sloping cliff along a raised swath of land and overgrown ruins, steamy rainforest crowding in on all sides. The precipice rises high enough with the canopy for a view of ocean horizon; and, still some miles off to the side, a coastal inlet where the surrounding vegetation has been chopped back to host a massive encampment of troops, vehicles, and even giant lizards, both saurian and winged species. Personnel barges dot the shoreline and bay, while further out to sea, an indeterminate collection of ships.

When Raphaela pops via rainbow connection, Merri is quick to move in close and put her fingertips out in a shush gesture for the Baroness's yap. "Lay low here. I can't see how I'd explain you coming out of nowhere, so we wait for our escorts to move on."

Privately, to Raphaela, Merrisol is rocking a girlform with the same height as the dude. So basically a giraffe supermodel.

Privately, to Merrisol, Raphaela is totally unimpressed.

Privately, to Raphaela, Merrisol sniffles, has all these estrogens and feels now.

Raphaela muffles her own tumble prone self as she gathers footing and balance precariously. She crouches by Merri and arches a brow. She checks her surrounding... floor for cactii or bugs, then sits down and stards switching pants. Winter black pants are far less camouoflage than khaki explorer ones that hang off her shoulder. She puts boots she was holding in hand off to side and puts away the trump. Besides. Explaining pantless Raph is as good as pantfull. "Ok ok got it, calm down, woman."

Merri cranes back and keeps watch while Raphaela does the pants dance. There are six weird vehicles nearby, each consisting of a single large wheel, the pilot's hyper-stylized carriage and machinery clustered along the inside rim. One is idling apart from the others, two punkish, dark-skinned female riders loitering about while the main femme group scouts the faraway view from the precipice, Lhasa AKA Sidonie, Wynter, and Maggie being the familiar faces among them.

Raphaela squeezes into her pants with some light swearing. Finally she just leaves the last button open and leaves shirt out. Hmph. Bootey. She's got bootey. Hey, at least she is eating? Hasn't been on adventure in a while though. She laces her boots, while looking around, then at Merri. She shakes her head.

Merri looks distracted, working out how to smooth out the current complications. "I have to call Ruby, she needs to know her shadow's even worse off than we knew. See what you can make of the army." Yeah, right. What can be seen of those squabbling and disparate battalions from this vantage point. While not being spotted by anyone. Easy peasy.

Raphaela pulls out a binoculars from her satchel and obeys. Well, the moment her pants are kind of on. It's a bit too snug around hips. If she farts....they gonna be gone. "Ooooh teeeeeech...." ther emight be drool.

Raphaela mutters distractedly "Can I sabotage it....?" caaaaan Iiiii pwetty pweaaaaaaase.