I've been, uh... *busy* with online activities lately. :) Never knew how addicting RPs can be... *hides*

Dr. Buck's bottom jaw rattles as he eloquently speaks, "Let us get down to basics! You are not from this world and you are confused."

"That is a very good start," I tag on to his quick wit. "How do I get home?"

"How did you get here?"

Martha leans into me, sighs, hums, and stares a hole into the skeletal doctor. Her face doesn't look natural by this point; I'm afraid all the lights are off upstairs.

I continue to Dr. Buck, "Underwater. I was being chased by an angry mermaid."

"Then that is where you go home. Get past the mermaid and you will go home." His jaw clicks and I believe one of his ribs breaks. Martha scuttles on the floor, retrieves it, and sits on the floor, looking up at him.

Also, Dr. Buck's accent periodically changes; he was talking to me in a British accent but it's Hispanic now, if I'm not mistaken. "These old bones are not holding up anymore. Pardon me if I rattle and shake. It is almost sixth breakfast time and the house guests are hungry. I must be quick with our session."

Sixth breakfast time? "How do I get back to the mermaid?"

"Ask the dollface in the restroom."

"Dollface? Zera?" I point in her direction.

Dr. Buck turns to the window behind us and uses his cane to pull the blinds open. "The Moon Tree is your communication device in this world. Do not get it mixed up with the Twinkie Tree. Big trouble."

I peer at the tree and nod. "I'm familiar with the Twinkie Tree. "

A Russian accent drips from his shaky head. "The Moon Tree can only be used by specific individuals. Before you are born, you are assigned to a circle of souls. You can only contact them via the Moon Tree."

This is a head-scratching moment. "Do I have knowledge of who these individuals are, Dr. Buck?"

"I do not know. Do you?" Martha's hand wiggles around the sofa and brushes against Dr. Buck's femur. Suddenly, I feel awkward, like she's touching me.

"Zera is the only person I know in this world."

Dr. Buck pets Martha on the head. "Better than nothing!"

"What happens if I contact someone who isn't in this circle of souls?"

He tips his hat and replies in a Southeastern-American accent, "You will catch on fire. A big ball of fire and you will taste your eyeballs as they melt down your face. I must go. Bye."

My eyes dart to the restroom and I yearn for semi-normal companionship. Dr. Buck falls limp and Martha pouts. Her pupils return to clarity, and I realize that she is a naked woman. I turn my focus back on the restroom, just in time for Zera to come out of it. I am so relieved!

Then, Martha flops across Dr. Buck and lands in my lap. Zera's ears and whiskers twitch at the sight. I'm dumbfounded by Martha's sudden attraction to me. Why couldn't she follow Dr. Buck to the kitchen or wherever he was preparing food?

"Return to your grave, lovesick phantom," Zera sneers. She's at eye level with Martha now.

Oblivious Martha Bumingstead, in her birthday suit, squeezes every inch of her body against me. I've never had a naked woman throw herself onto me.

Scared and confused now. My brothers must never know this happened, especially the scared and confused part.

So what does Zera do? She plants herself on top of Martha and me, and we're a leaning tower of mixed hormones. Martha nuzzles my face, I shove her away, Zera uses Dr. Buck's bony remains as support and uses her legs to push Martha off me, and Martha's hands go a little too far south on me. Zera shows her teeth and latches on Martha upper torso and bites her left shoulder; however, instead of Martha being in pain and screaming, it's me. It's my right shoulder being bitten, and it's enough for me to push both of the brawlers off my lap.

Zera's mouth is covered in a silvery liquid substance, but I'm too busy with my throbbing wound to tend to her. It's worse than what a similar gash would feel like: prickly, gnawing, and severely deep. True to this world, there's no visible trauma. Just pain that could cut through steel.

I finally look at her traumatized face and calm her worries despite my predicament. "It stings but I'm okay. I'm okay, really. I'm sorry that I pushed you off me."

Martha isn't in the room anymore. Zera wipes her mouth, looks at the fluid, and starts rubbing my shoulder. My injury aches for a short time and it quickly dissipates. I finally have to stop her rubbing because my skin is feeling raw.

"I'm okay, Zera," I calmly whisper and hold her hand away from my shoulder. "The pain has died. We're safe."

She tugs at her hand and I unlock my grip. Anxiety is painted across her face and she can't look me in the eye again. Just from the short time I've known her, that expression means she's guilty. Once the adrenaline simmers down, I put the pieces of the events together. I'm beginning to see a pattern in this world, somehow. I don't know how it's coming to me, but it is. Zera is a fireball, but she doesn't jump into a fight without being highly provoked. Martha was using enchantment, or maybe it was Dr. Buck. It could have been Sine or the picture of Martha on the wall. Somebody was using malicious intent.

And that surely pisses me off to no end. Don't take advantage of people's emotions!

Her face is a map of sadness and guilt. Without realizing it, I'm caressing her face and patting her shoulder. I don't have any more words left to tell her that everything will be fine and that it was alla trick. The world is one big bag of tricks. I feel like she and I are the butt of every joke. Another thing that doesn't sit well with me. Just ask Mikey.

Zera politely sniffs me. "You may need to..."

"Yes." I nod and leave for the bathroom. I've forgotten that I still have all kinds of foreign substances on me and need to clean up. I give one last look at Zera; her back is turned to me, but she isn't standing as tall as before. I don't like leaving her alone, but I doubt she feels comfortable in here with me.

The picture on the wall has completely changed. As I'm washing, I curiously study it: a border "step" pattern, very reminiscent of Native American cultural design I remember, and a silvery fire surrounding a long eared creature: a cross between a horse and a cat. Peculiar.

I'm sticky from head to toe, and it takes ages for me to cleanse myself from it. Only Donatello could make this kind of mess. Yuck! I'll never get this off before the next strange battle.

One last look at the picture before I leave: it's still the same artwork. Good. Oh, I shouldn't take the towel with me either; I place it back on the hook.

Once I exit the bathroom, I'm all alone. Not a sound in the room. Dr. Buck is still dormant on the sofa. No Martha, thank goodness. Where is Zera?

Something furry rubs against my foot. Looking down, it's a small fennec fox with its beady eyes peering up at me, silver lips, and nestled in a bundle of clothes. A closer inspection reveals a torn tuxedo.

I almost stop breathing for a moment. "...Zera?"

The fennec's giant ears fold back and it putters a shrilly noise from its frame.

Planning for a darker, creepier Chapter 8. The tables are turning~