A/N: So I decided to revamp this story into first person because that new story I was doing is cool and all, but this is also a cool story.

That's right; it's on, bitches.

...Oh, and I decided to redo this in first person, just so that it's easier on me to get through. Third person can be awesome if done correctly, but I feel like it doesn't... work right with me.

Also, I'm going to be changing some things with the story (gasp, changing things?!) so rereading this should be a good idea, so that you don't skip ahead and be all like 'wtf, Randy?'

On the bright side, this 'catching up' thing is going to be done as fast as possible, and the second chapter (first, if you don't count the prologue) is being posted soon after this one. So twice the amount of 'Polarized' goodness, woot!

For new people just showing up to the madness, welcome, welcome. This is a remake of something I made a few months back, with both changed story and changed details. So the only thing you missed if you didn't see the earlier one is, like, a third person version of this. So... eh.

Anyways, hope you enjoy the redux of Polarized!

Disclaimer: I do not own Two Kinds; I am merely... borrowing Tom's stuff to make things weirder. It's on the table on whether this is a good idea, however, so debate that all you want. ;)

I like to believe I'm normal, all considered.

I lived a fairly normal childhood – nothing crazy – have normal parents – who are loving and caring – and I had a normal brother. And how could I ever forget my little – read: fat – companion back at my apartment: Tiger the tabby cat.

Growing up, I'll admit I was... abrasive. Not that I go out of my way to be borderline rude, but some kids really grated my nerves back then. If someone was keeping their distance from me, and nobody was being an annoying little shit, then I was seen as distant.

Not that I tried to be distant – on purpose – but I liked to just watch the world turn by. If I wasn't preoccupied by something at hand, I was just watching things go by; be it watching other kids play – or be vicious, terrifying things – or just observing the environment. It was a hobby of mine to watch things and use said time to think – either about what I'm watching or whatever is on my mind.

As a gift – or maybe a little joke that turned into a sort-of blessing – my mother sifted around in the attic and gave me an old camera that she used to use. It still used integral film, which is the cliché 'take a picture and the picture spits out the front', and nowadays I just have it sitting at the bottom of my satchel – for memory's sake.

But when I first got it, it was one of the coolest things ever, period. I took pictures of everything, be it something mundane or interesting. And most pictures I took went into albums, writing onto a small strip of tape the name of my 'greatest work yet'.

The amount of money that went into getting film that isn't sold readily anymore...

Well, photography became a new hobby of mine.

I went throughout the rest of my schooling days being the girl that didn't make any sense. I was seen as very outspoken when approached, but otherwise uncharacteristically quiet. Alongside my backpack with my school-stuffs is my satchel, holding my first camera with as much extra film as I dare carry. It was obvious that people called me 'hipster', with the – now – slightly battered satchel glued to me at all times.

There were a few people that managed to take in my attitude and not be too bothered by it, but I can easily say that I never had a perfect friend. I had people who were great to shoot the shit with, and a handful of times I went out with them to places, but none of them really... stuck with me; none were a person who I couldn't live without, hell I could hardly remember their names, now.

After high school – passing it with one of the highest GPA's, despite getting into trouble more than once for indecent behavior – I decided to get into art school, and my parents happily supported me, and I think my brother would, too. Issue is, well...

Photography isn't cheap; not by a long shot. Some lenses for a decent camera can go into the thousands, for crying out loud! At least the outcome is worth it – sometimes.

So, two years into an arts college, and I'm looking like a promising art student; good grades – studying my ass off into the wee hours of the morning and not sleeping somehow works for me – and fantastic pictures combine to make me look like I'm on the fast track to getting famous. And from a town in the middle of nowhere, too!

I was proud of what I've done so far, damn it!

I guess it sucks that it went out the metaphorical window, and I died in the middle of said nowhere called Greenville.

…

Yeah, let me explain that further.

I was walking home from my part-time job – waiter at a restaurant, if you're curious – and I decided to change course when I remembered that there was a sale going on at the store I usually go to, my schedule not allowing me to get there in time to catch it. It was only going to be some light shopping, getting what I needed and getting the hell out so that I can move on with my life.

Then some douche went and hit me when I was crossing the road – didn't even see the bastard coming!

I didn't see anything when I looked both ways on the street, and I didn't hear anything at first, but lo and behold, when I was halfway across the road I heard a loud roar of an engine, and all I got was a glimpse of something yellow before-

-nothing.

…

No, really! I went from enjoying a nice nightly stroll – the stars looks great – to a literal abyss of absolutely nothing. Currently, I can't see, feel, hear, smell, even taste anything. Nothing but this endless darkness that is just everywhere and my thoughts.

I've only been here in said darkness for an hour at most, and while I've been in here I've meet my worst enemy:

Absolutely nothing interesting to observe and alone with my thoughts. A dangerous combination, indeed. If this is some kind of hell for something I haven't learned to do in life, it's certainly going to work soon.

Really, though. If I was to think about one thing that sent me here, other than Danny-

No, bad Dawn, you have to keep yourself together for as long as possible! I still need to finish my inner monologue.

Now, probably one things that sent me to one of the most boring places to ever exist might be that I... tend to make myself look kinda boring.

If you were to look at me, the word 'ordinary' would come to mind. My hair is probably the most drab shade of brown ever recorded, with my eyes following suit, ending with a plain-looking face and a figure that screams tomboy – my abrasive attitude wasn't tomboy, but it was pretty damn close. If I was to wear a suit, I'd probably be mistaken for a teenage guy, with how short my hair is cut.

I blame dad – I took all of his features, and while I'm not ugly, my body doesn't exactly shout feminine appeal. Still got a few looks from both sides of the coin at least-

Oh my god why am I talking to myself about this; I have more important things to deal with. Like this great nothingness that has consumed me.

...But seriously, why the hell am I talking about my looks when I can't see shit-

For the first time since arriving here, I can feel something. Only that it's in no way a normal feeling. A warmth seems to just... prod at my core, from what I can tell. Examining me, looking for something.

Then, for the first time since entering this god-forsaken void, I hear something; a voice.

"Yes, this is good. You will do well enough for my purposes."

The voice, which sounds androgynous, is soothing, and a rising panic that I never new I had in me fades away as quickly as I noticed it.

I try to respond, but before I could remember that I can't, even my thoughts go dark, falling into unconsciousness.

When I drift to consciousness, it's done slowly and oddly comfortably. For... some reason I thought I was going to be in a lot of pain, but... why would I be? A breeze flows by, bringing with it the scent of a forest, and the sounds of nature around me – leaves rustling with the wind, small critters chittering, and birds chirping – confirms that. When did I get into a forest? There are some around the outskirts of the town, but I don't remember going here anytime recently.

I open up my eyes, showing me said forest.

And it's not the one I'm used to.

All of the trees are... wrong. Some of them are familiar – it's hard not to miss all of the oaks – but there's a startling lack of pines, anywhere.

Now that I listen really hard, I can't hear any sounds of civilization, anywhere. No sounds of cars running, or anything of the sort. Hell, smelling the air, it's not the same.

At this point, I finally stood up, and I finally noticed a weight around my shoulders. Looking down at said weight shows me a familiar strap, and my confusion evolves because why do I have my satchel? I always leave it at home when I go to work...

Oh. I died – or did I? I don't know, I remember something rushing me, and being left in that place, but nothing much else comes to mind for why I'm here, of all places. Hell, the accident happened in the middle of town, and now it looks like I'm in a different state.

A clearing in the wood catches my eyes, and in my rising tension I practically sprint towards it. Whatever pieces of nature that catches onto me I swat aside as I bolt to something, anything.

Bursting from the treeline, I laugh out a short breath of relief at the trial laid out in front of me. Trails mean a way forward instead of stumbling my way through the forest, and the best part: civilization.

...But which way is the right way?

As if it was a sign from destiny, a well-worn sign – ha – sits covered in some sort of ivy. As I walk up to it, I cock my head at the fact that it's made of wood, and it looks like it's been out here for some time if nature it taking it over. Brushing a bit of plant-matter out of the way, my hopes almost collapse at the fact that the name on the sign is worn to the point that it's illegible, but looking below it brings my hopes back up with a '12 Mi.' still barely legible.

Looking down the way shows the path bending, showing nothing but more trees.

Well, I've always wanted to go hiking...

Twelve miles can't be that bad, can it?

Feeling the heat of the air – when the hell did it get so hot, it's early September – and the burning running through my legs, I almost want to sock past-me in the face for saying what she said. I am not fit, like, at all. I did remember reading something about preparing yourself physically if you plan on going for hikes or long nature walks, but holy shit this is a bit much.

I wipe the sweat building on my forehead for the fifth time. At least it's getting dark out, so the air is getting cooler.

The little things, everyone; gotta appreciate them.

After a few more minutes – I think it was minutes – of walking, wishing I had some water on me from how thirsty I was, I finally round the last bend and take in the sight of a rolling hill heading to my destination.

And promptly let out a noise that's something between a cry of victory and a shout of confusion.

I mean, I made it to civilization, but why the hell is it so old. I'm pretty sure that's thatched roofs I'm looking at, complete with wooden buildings and a big dirt road running through it. It's more of a renaissance village- hell, I bet it is one.

Is... this an Amish village? I mean, I think that the Amish refuse to use any form of technology, but I'm not even sure if I'm in the right region, or even in the right hemisphere for that. Unless I somehow ended up on the other side of the pond, I don't know what to think.

Looking down at myself, I see my more modern clothing of an eggshell white shirt – the brown sweater I have had to come off, it's too hot for that – and gray capris, I would stick out bad. Shit, the haircut would probably offend someone if they see it, however stuck-down it is from sweat.

Despite this, I continue forwards because fuck culture shock, I'm thirsty and in need of directions to the nearest town with cell reception.

Walking down to the town, there's a quaint looking archway with attached walls, and a gate that's wide open. Really, it looks like a design choice to put the gates there – if it was meant to stop anyone, they could just walk the extra fifty feet to go around the wall and into the village that way – and they don't look like there's a way to keep them closed. Continuing on through, I take a look around and have to keep myself from staring at the people walking around.

For one, they definitely aren't Amish, if anything they look even further back in time. There's literally a kid that's smothered in dirt that is in a threadbare shirt and pants, looking like the stereotypical surf-child. The more well-off people don't look much better; the clothes they wear look like it was hand-sown, and something tells me that it was probably either someone they know or themselves.

Then there's the buildings, from a distance it looks pretty bad, but now I can tell that everything was hand-made, and not done by professionals-

I'm starting to notice the stares. The people milling about the road are starting to look in my direction, and it's not hard to miss me as I walk down the middle of the dirt path. Most of the looks are curious, probably from seeing someone new in town – village, whatever – but there are a few that seem to raise a brow at the clothes that I'm wearing-

"Are you alright, miss?"

I jump at the voice, and I swing myself to face the guy who spoke. He's... definitely the person who looks like he lives here – clothes that look worn down a bit and hand-made – and his awfully average appearance looks to put mine to shame.

"What." I take a second to think about what he said, then speak up. "I'm fine, but I'm... not from around here. Do you know if there's a mot- a place to stay, for the night?"

The man raises a brow at my answer – and it rises even further onto his greasy forehead at my slip up – but answers. "Well, miss, there's a tavern down further if you keep walking. It's the biggest building here, you can't miss it; run by Maven Taverndatter and her sister, Karen. Some odd women, they are, but they're good at what they do."

I'm almost taken aback at the extremely helpful answer. Aren't old-time-y village people supposed to be wary of new people? Either way, I thank the man and almost power walk to the place I was told about. Looking for the largest building, I can clearly see it as I spot – what looks like the only one – the two story building, a sign that says 'Tavern' hanging outside of it. There's a sign nailed to the door that says 'No Keidran Allowed', but I don't give it too much thought. I have to stop myself from rushing as I almost burst through the door and into the tavern.

Inside, it feels like I really traveled back in time; the floors, walls, the everything is made of wood. All the tables and chairs are simply-made, if shaped to look slightly stylized and better than your average wooden chair. There are a handful of people sitting around, whether they're sitting in groups drinking and laughing it up, or sitting alone and nursing a tankard of something.

I nearly do a double-take at the one guy drinking out of a clay mug, and from the looks of it it's coffee.

Okay, this has to be an Amish place; I'm fairly certain that they didn't have coffee when they made the Magna Carta-

"Welcome, can I help you miss?" I female voice that sounds both bored and irritated calls out from the back of the room. I skirt the occupied tables, moving towards the back of the room where there's a counter and...

The woman's hair is purple.

Purple.

I must've been staring for a while, because the woman speaks back up – this time with more annoyance.

"What, you never seen purple hair before?" Her eyes narrow at me and wow she has a short fuse.

"Nah, just didn't expect it from out here." I say, shaking my head.

Now that I'm here, the fact that I haven't had anything seems to rush to the forefront of my mind, and a headache decided to accompany it – or was it there all along? I focus back on the annoyed woman in front of me, who's now narrowing their eyes in thought.

"Do I know you?" She suddenly blurts out before I can talk.

"No... I'm pretty sure I've never met you." Which is true, I've never even met someone in art school who has dyed their hair that level of purple. It's almost an eggplant-color from how dark it is-

"Are you sure," They seem to be leaning in now, the intensity from their eyes seeming to increase to study my face. "You look awfully familiar..." She shakes her head.

"Nah, I'm just seeing things. So, whatcha need?" The sudden turnaround from intense staring to bored-annoyed almost throws me for a loop, but the headache and need for something to eat and drink takes priority.

"Got something to eat and drink, and a room for the night?"

"Yeah. That'll run you for six silvers."

Silvers? Wait, I think...

I fish into my pockets, pulling out a fistful of change. Sifting through it, I count out six quarters and hold it out to her.

"Will this work?" I place them into her outstretched hand, and she takes a second to visually count them. Other than raising a brow at said coins, she drops them somewhere behind the counter and turns around to a doorway.

"Karen, I need another meal ready!" Another voice comes from the doorway, this one sounding very cheery.

"Okay, sis! Coming right up." Yeesh, she sounds like the sun given a voice, and not in a good way. The amount of cheer coming from her is almost tangible, and I haven't even seen her yet.

Looking back at the woman behind the counter, she's leaning down and messing with something behind the counter, and after standing straight, she places one of the tankards on top. Inside is something akin to ale, from the looks of things.

"You look like you need it; it's better than whatever I gave those guys," She nods her heads at the group in the center of the tavern, who looks to be having the time of their lives. "If I were you, I'd sit away from them; they can get annoying."

"...Thanks for the advice..." I slowly say, grabbing the container and begin making my way to a table away from everyone – and find one away from the group of men. Looking around, there doesn't seem to be many tables, and every one seems to be next to someone who is looking a little too much in places I rather they not.

Taking another look around, another doorway is off to the side, and walking up to it shows me another room with tables set around, along with what looks like extra kegs and mantles with staffs and other odd tools on it. It looks to have a more local feel to it, than the other room.

It doesn't look to be occupied, and anywhere is better than next to one of those sleazes.

Walking in, I find one of the empty tables and plop myself down on it, facing the entryway. Taking the time to myself, I look down at the drink in my hands.

I'm... not much of a drinker. I'm more of a hard lemonade kind of person – call me a wuss, but I rather like what I'm drinking and not hate myself in the process of drinking. Taking in a breath to prepare myself, I lift up the tankard and hammer it back-

-and have to stop myself from how bad it tastes, coughing a bit. Hearing a snort, I lift my head up to glare from where it came from.

Apparently I'm not as alone as I would've liked; there was someone in the corner, coated slightly in shadow. They have a hooded cloak on, making it impossible with the shadow casting over their visage.

A stereotypical shady-cloak guy, okay.

Still isn't going to stop me.

"I don't drink alcohol often, so bite me." At first, they looked surprised that I said something to them, but – without breaking the shadow – turns the opening of their hood towards me and talks.

"Well," The voice is masculine, and sounds like he's giving his best deadpan. "What do you drink, milk?"

I don't know what it was – the shady guy's snark, the headache, the entire walk here – but I just keep talking out of spite.

I level a deadpan right back. "And why should I take your opinion for granted – milk can make your bones stronger, ya know." That only lets loose another snort from him, adding a huff of laughter afterwards.

"'Makes your bones stronger,' huh? Where did you hear that?"

"It's common knowledge; unless you live under a rock, everyone should know it. I mean," I level him with a smirk. "Unless you're some kind of dumbass." I lift up my tankard, smirk still in place-

-and start another coughing fit, hearing the bastard laughing over the coughs. Wiping the spilled ale off of my mouth, I look up to glare at the total bitch-

Only for my eyes to widen and jaw to drop.

Because his hood fell down, and whatever the guy is isn't human.

The first thing that comes to mind is that he's covered in fur, for one, and the general facial structure makes me think of a cross between a goat and some kind of cat. The coloring of his hair – and fur, god that's strange to think – is a sandy blond, and his eyes...

They're an amber color, which I've seen on people before, but they're pupiless.

And the mirth – I think that's mirth – falls off of his face when he notices my expression, and he seems to now notice the hood that's pooling at his shoulders.

An awkward silence seems to fall over us like thick smoke, slowly choking whatever we had going-

"Alright, miss! I got your food right here!" A cheery voice – the one from earlier – calls out, and in walks a woman wearing an eye-searing neon green dress, with hair to match. Her skin is darker than usual, and to add to my flabbergasted state as she walks closer with the meal I bought, it's almost gray.

"Here you go!" She places it down in front of me, oblivious to the look on my face. "If you need anything else, just let Maren know, 'kay?" She doesn't even wait for me to acknowledge her as she seems to nod to herself, then walks – almost skipping – out of the room.

Silence reigns again. I grab the tankard without looking and just down it, horrible taste and all. Really hope Maren was right when she said this was the good stuff...

Setting the glorified wooden cup down, I look back to the guy in the corner to see him looking away, his now visible face is... subdued? Disappointed?

...There's something going on here, and something tells me that I just did something stupid. He is rude, but yet again so was I for multiple reasons. And if the reason he's back here is anything similar to mine...

Well, if I regret this then I regret this.

I pick up the plate of food and the partially drained tankard in my hands and start to make my way over to his corner. As I'm walking, one of his strange, long ears twitch and he looks over to me making my way to him. The only thing he does as I sit in front of him and set down my stuff is raise a brow.

That's an expression I know how to read.

"I probably did something stupid as soon as I called you a dumbass, didn't I?" My words seem to throw him for a loop, but I keep plowing through. "So, to make it up, how about we start over, with less insults this time. How's that sound?"

He doesn't say anything, his sightless eyes scanning me for something- do people usually give him shit about... whatever he is? I mean, it doesn't seem like it's that much of a problem, if he didn't go running for the hills as soon as I saw his face.

After a while of him not responding, and him just looking at me, I speak up again.

"Fine, how about I start us off," I throw a hand out. "The name's Dawn, and apparently I know a lot about milk."

That got something out of him. Before he could stop himself, he lets loose another snort, and a smirk starts to form on his odd face, but he shoves it away and tries to pull back on the mask.

"Ah, he laughs again!" I do a little cheer with my arms, and he looks away to try – and fail – at hiding his smile. "Wow, you're bad at the silent treatment." At that, he looks back at me with a bit of surprise.

"How did you-"

"My brother used to do the same thing all the time; you could've learned a thing or two from him. 'Course, I'm the best at breaking said treatment, so..." He just shakes his head at I shrug at him.

"You're something else, aren't you?"

"Says the shady cloak guy in the corner." I throw back at him.

He opens his mouth to retort, but thinks about it for a second before sighing. "You have a point, there," He looks at the cloak with a forlorn look. "But I need it around here, if I want to survive with my fur intact. Not everyone is going to act like you do, you know?" He gives me a pointed look at the last part.

I throw it right back. "Then they're probably pretty shitty people. At least the only thing that makes me want to sock you is your amazing personality."

"You're not too eloquent with your words either, you know."

I open my mouth to throw another retort, but my stomach lets loose a growl – right, they tend to do that then you don't eat anything for a day.

"Hold on, let me shut it up," With that said, I begin the ravaging of the food that I've been neglecting to eat.

The food itself is bland – they have coffee but no spice, I mean really – and it's reminiscent of what you would expect from a tavern somewhere in the boonies. 'Course, I'm not complaining – food's food, and the college diet makes anything that's edible a possibility. Slamming the food down in record time – starting to feel like a teenager with this appetite – and I lean back in the chair with a satisfied sigh. Looking over at the goat-man shows him staring with wide eyes that slowly turn into a deadpan.

"What?"

"...Nothing, you just eat... quickly." I'm starting to notice that his face is showing a bit of wariness.

"Hey, a woman's gotta when she's gotta eat, ya feel?"

"'I feel'?" He gives me an odd look as he repeats the phrase.

"Yeah, it's another way of saying 'You know what I mean'." The answer only causes him to shake his head.

"I really don't understand you; you're definitely not like any human I've met."

Human, he says? What, so this isn't some weird thing that I haven't heard about-

Wait. Wait.

"Hey, um..."

"Keith." He supplies.

"Thanks, so Keith, I've been meaning to ask you this before we went on some kind of insult streak." I place my arms on the table and lean in with searching eyes. "What are you?"

That's something that has been floating in the back of my mind since I saw his face. I'm not exactly the most involved in current events, but I'm pretty sure that – what I'm assuming is – a new species would be a fairly large piece that I would have seen. Especially if they have such weird ears...

A haunting feeling starts to crawl up my spine, but I ignore it in lieu of paying attention to Keith.

The look he gives me is similar to the one when I finished eating and he just looked. "You... don't know what I am? You are from around here, right?"

"No, I think I'm a bit too far away from home. Let's just say that I'm a foreigner."

In reality, I have no clue where I am; I don't even know the name of the village that I'm in right now, for crying out loud! Besides the hints that I'm probably somewhere in Europe and not in the U.S., I really don't have anything to go off of besides labeling myself as 'foreign'.

"Well, if you want to know, I'm a basitin. We usually live on the Islands out of the way of the main landmass of Tekkan."

Basitin. Strange, but I've heard weirder in fiction- wait, Tekkan?

"Where the hell is Tekkan?"

And now Keith is giving me a strange look, like I just said something unbelievably stupid. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again to give me a more intense look-over.

"Where are you from?" The question takes me aback from how intense he asked it, but I oblige.

"I'm from the U.S.," At his blank look, I elaborate. "Ya know, the United States; America? Land of liberty? Any of that ring a bell?"

The feeling seems to worsen, but I shove it back down. I am not going to have a panic attack around the new guy.

"No, I've never heard of it." I almost laugh – with the amount of shit the U.S. throws in history, who doesn't know about it – but I freeze when I realize he's being serious.

The feeling comes back with a vengeance and I shoot to my feet, the chair scrapping against the wooden floor. I can hear Keith saying something to me, but I just ignore him as I storm out of the room, a whirlwind of thoughts assaulting my mind.

There's weird goat people here called basitins, I'm apparently on a landmass called Tekkan, and if Keith's as common as everyone else is about knowing common things, then nobody knows what America is.

As I walk up to the counter and get my room key from a confused Maren, a sentence floats to the forefront of the torrent.

I guess it's too much to ask where Greenville is, huh?

A/N: It's longer than the last prologue, so that's a neato thing.

Next up, the actual first chapter.