Listen up, for I'll say this only once: Changeling is property of White Wolf, yet everything else is entirely of my own concieving. Hope you enjoy.
May, 1993 - Island of Jamaica, Caribbean
When she awoke that evening, the ground was rather stiff.
Normally, a few days previously, the person who had recently awoken would have said in a rather stiff accent that indeed, the ground would be rather stiff because it was always stiff. That was the way that decomposed rock was: uncomfortable, unmoving, and never-yielding. After all, years of horseback riding would had surely attest to that.
Yet, as one might have already caught onto, it was not a few days ago, which would lead one to suspect that the person had undergone quite the change, and if someone would had been there to deduct that from the mere expression upon Lydia Innes's face, they would had be quite correct.
A mere mortal would had only see a pretty girl on the ground, gaping stupidly at the rather tall palm trees that were stretching above her rather small body, her eyes rounded with the wonder of the wrought figures of the vines that intertwined betwixt the trunks, the breath falling from her lips but a slight pant, as if to fear that anything more forceful would blow over the delicate fauna that grew about the place, whether it be from the gigantic hibiscus or the gentle bushes that were hedging close.
To had seen merely that is not only foolish, but would had proven that the person there would had been, in fact, a mere mortal looking upon a most fantastic creature, who herself had just realized that she herself was quite fantastic, and surely, that cannot be the case.
For you see, if you would had been enlightened, you would had seen a pretty girl on the ground, her hands covered in feathers so small, they appeared as if they were but miniscule sequins upon her flesh, the iridescent shade of blue apparent in the moonlight of the eve. The feathers, in fact, were quite all over the place, almost fully covering her arms up to the lower half of her arm below the elbow, the rest after that spreading out in small patches that eventually evolved to a small feather once or twice up on her shoulders. The same, naturally, had gone for her face; a feather or two on her forehead and jaw, then starting to grow thick as it went towards the center, the blue gravitating towards a central point: a slightly elongated nose that was not only bright red, but was pointy enough to pass as a beak. Of course, this was not the only thing that had changed, but currently, it was the things that were evident, which are always prudent when being described.
Of course, this was not the reason why she was on the ground, gaping about. In the moonlight of the eve, you see, Lydia Innes had seen quite the change. The trees weren't trees to her, nor were the flowers or the bush. In fact, they almost acted as if they knew who she was. Tall pillars surging with life were bending down, waving large, gracious hands, while ladies in resplendent red skirts curtseyed their own greeting. Gorgeous draperies flapped in excitement, the whisperings of 'welcome, welcome!' almost deafening to a girl who hadn't paid any attention at all to the surrounding wilderness.
Normally, she would have written this off rather tidily; the insanity that's inherent in the line is obviously getting to me, was often her mantra as of late as she started to see her university grow into a glowing palace of knowledge, flags advertising the brilliance of the minds within flying upon the turrets that banked each end of the main building. Originally, it had started the beginning of her freshman year: flashes of giant, galloping squirrels equipped with saddles; singing daisies participating in a quilting bee; doors to knowledge growing from a book that fell off the bookshelf. Normalcy always prevailed after a few seconds of shaking her head and murmuring in a rough accent that it would be all right.
But it was not all right anymore, for now she had fallen into her own little Looking Glass, and she was not entirely sure that she could get herself back. The visions were starting to stay, and she never remembered any feathers!
Relax, a suave voice assured as it loitered in the back of her skull. Just relax. It isn't insanity, it's your true self.
True self? So she was secretly a circus freak? What a better place to find out than miles away from civilized Scottish company, far from the place where she could simply wake up and the sense that rules life could just wash over her! It was as if someone had slipped some acid into her evening seltzer...
Stop being an idiot! the voice chided, its tone quite harsh. You're neither stoned nor far away from society - that is, the correct society.
Shifting up, the feathered figure propped herself up with her arms. "Correct society?" she managed to mutter, although it was more to herself than to her friendly companions, who merely closed in, as if to comfort the poor, confused soul.
Yes! After all, Kingston is the center of one of the best Seelie courts known to fae! Although we're Pooka, we'll be okay; they'll humor us while you figure out who you are. And really, my dear, you should figure out who you are. Repressed memories can only do so much!
"Quite the contrary," she found herself griping back in reply as she crossed her arms, "for they can be quite he-- HEY!" Now the bird-girl was scowling, glaring at nothing in particular as she found herself quite angered that she had actually said something so... illogical. The hibiscus ladies lurched back, shivering slightly, but the palm knights knelt down, patting their charges comfortingly whilst murmuring words of encouragement.
No need to frighten the natives! You're still quite mundane, aren't you? the voice chided back in a rather humored tone. Clucking its tongue, it almost seemed to grin in the back of her head. Poor thing. I suppose you can't help it, being as I finally decided to emerge. Well... maybe you can, it muttered distractedly, trailing off for a moment before starting to head back onto the well-beaten path of frightening Lydia out of her wits. Either way, just trust me.
"And why should I do that?" she retorted, her eyes gazing as high as they could, trying to focus her eyes upon the source of the voice.
Because we are one now, and soon you won't have me, because you'll be me.
And, as horrified as that made the former human, the Changeling arose to follow the voice in her head.