Private Moving In

It was... weird. This place, these people, the strange noises that they made. And everything was even stranger when she wasn't wearing her language charm. They all used so many words, so often. Flicker wasn't used to this... cacophony. She was used to silence, gestures, grunts, and the inherent way that her kin just... understood one another, like it was nothing. Like they were all connected in this grand, intricate forest, and the forest was the world, and they were one.

The people here... Everyone was their own forest, it felt like. Nobody seemed connected to one another, not in the way Flicker knew, and so they made innumerable noises to try and bridge that gap.

It had become... a little bit easier, once she went through her counselling and basic remedial course, allowed to stay in an isolated place for people who weren't quite ready to see the world just yet. The staff at the Academy were helpful in ways Flicker could hardly fathom, and she owed them a lot. But there were no lessons in the world that could make everything make sense. Not this quickly. Not a damn thing.

When Flicker first entered her new "dorm room," the door shut heavily, and she found herself in some of the quietest air she'd felt in days. Some of the safest, too, because at least half of this space was _hers,_ and her door had a lock, and those things combined meant that she was safe. She could customize this space — comfort — and lock herself inside — safety. Though it would certainly be a change from her nomadic lifestyle, and though she had no idea how to fill up a single shelf, let alone several... Flicker was, well, she was hopeful. Because she'd always been so curious about modern life, never sharing the same disdane for it as her kin, even though it made her nervous. It... It had cost her a lot, to get this opportunity. More than she'd have been willing to pay, had someone actually offered it to her point blank in this way. But she was hopeful, an optimist, guarded and careful though she might have been.

It hadn't taken flicker long to "unpack," seeing as she hardly had more than a little suitcase worth of items and most had been given to her within the last few weeks. Her clothes in a drawer, her sketchbook on her desk, a list she couldn't read of textbooks she couldn't read. Stars, it was hard enough trying to find her dorm when she was only newly familiar with numbers in this script, but having a "sticky-note" helped immensely.

After that, she just... sat around in the common area with the TV off, looking at things and trying to make sense of the textiles in the carpets and furniture. She flickered the lights a few times, tried out the "sink" for a drink... and then to run water on her hands... and then to drink from the faucet... and then when she turned into an otter and just sat underneath it. Finding the big sink in the "bathroom" was yet another incredible find, whatever it was actually called (she'd forgotten). She'd wandered there, tracking tiny wet footprints, only to spend at least a half hour in the tub of cold water once she'd made it work. It... sort of... overfilled a bit, sloshed around and gotten the floor wet, which she'd cleaned up poorly with that uh, "toilet paper" stuff as they'd called it. After, uh... After playing in the puddles. Haha. It's fine, her space, right?

Flicker was using a "towel" to blot her hair dry on the couch, having been told that getting furniture wet was bad (after she'd done it repeatedly during remedial counselling), when this girl walked in. It startled her at first, and her instinct flared quietly. She sensed something volatile and strange, but not terribly threatening, radiating from this person, but it was familiar in a way. Something reminiscent of her own abilities. Then, the girl spoke, and said something Flicker did not know.

"What is... vodka? And wine cooler?" she asked, her head tilting. The strange terms were spoken with her accent, since there were no selkie equivalents — at least, not to her knowledge — so she pronounced them fully, without the use of her charm. "Oh, and I'm Flicker. Thank you, it's good to meet you." Her large eyes trailed the floor, noticing all the half-dried water prints from her former little otter paws. She didn't mind, probably, at least she didn't in the forest. Would Xera? Guess only time could tell.

Flicker listened to Xera's reply, used more to silence than to verbal acknowledgement. She watched with curiosity, however, as Xera claimed they "needed to be cooled." But she wasn't sticking them outside in the snow? How... odd. Instead, the girl opened up the big white kitchen box thing and just... set her items inside, as though this was a completely normal thing to do. What the hell? Flicker made a face, and stared at the place the items used to be, before the box's door hid them from view. Why did that make any kind of sense at all?

Oh, wait. They'd told her about that, hadn't they? Flicker couldn't remember the word they'd used for the life of her, but didn't the box make things cold? For food, right? Did it make other things cold? Flicker couldn't honestly remember if the kitchen box was magic or "technology."

Hmm. It was completely and utterly foreign to her. So, probably technology.

But honestly? Same difference.

If she sat in the fridge, would it remind her of home?

"It's definitely weird," she finally said, still staring daggers into the kitchen box. The selkie shook her head, then, and looked back up to Xera. "Sorry. I have no clue what that thing does. But, anyway."

Flicker thought for a moment. Questions? Did she have any questions? That was like... the most open-ended question Xera could have possibly asked. Of course she had questions! As may as there were needles on a pine tree. But asking them all would probably get annoying, so she decided to stick with the relevant basics.

Flicker pointed at the tiny otter tracks on the floor.

"How much do you care about that?"

Keep it clean... Well, that was definitely a change. Obviously, her selkie kin knew how to clean, and there were certainly things they tended to keep clean. Like cutlery, and baby blankets, and babies. But, for the most part, woodland immersion meant all parts of the woods, as did shifting into various animals all-day-every-day. Even food wasn't always kept spotless, unless it was intended for human-form consumption (because, as the selkies knew well, their human form was their weakest in many ways).

Basically, Flicker liked dirt. She was used to dirt. She didn't know why anyone didn't like dirt, considering it was one of the three sources of life and souls themselves. But, whatever, she supposed she could try to minimize it. After all, there was a good chance that Xera's only form was human, meaning she couldn't really deal the same way as selkies could with a bit of mess, so, sure.

Flicker felt a (no pun intended) flicker of pride race through her. She was essentially saving Xera's life, wasn't she? What a hero she was.

At the question about the pawprints, Flicker chuckled. "I'm a shifter, yeah. You could say that," she said. She listened as Xera added another comment about food, and nodded. The practice was similar enough to the ones she grew up with, and she typically operated the same way: share the majority, but mark the minority she wanted to hoard.

"Sounds good," she said, and then added, "But fair warning: I can't read. At least, not English. How do you write your name?" Flicker figured she'd just avoid anything with writing on it for a while, but this would still be helpful knowledge.

Flicker didn't reply at first to Xera's demonstration, but remembered within a few moments that, here, verbal communication is default. She mentally sighed then, and gave out a small hum of acknowledgement. When Xera offered her a symbol to use, she hummed again.

"That's kind of close to your name, isn't it? You should use that one — what is it again, 'y'? No, 'x'? You should use 'X', and I'll draw my symbol for my name."

She stood and took the pen, then, and drew a small symbol. It looked somewhat like the tip of a flame. She showed it to Xera, and then set them both on the counter. After that, she returned to her place near Xera on the couch.

Was that necessary? Could she have just used the X? Whatever, it made sense to her anyway.

At Xera's offer, she scratched the nape of her neck and considered. "Sure," she said, "I've been shown around before, but I could use a refresh. Somehow, hallways are more confusing than pathless woodlands."

Flicker let a wry half-smile spread across her dark lips at Xera's praise. Oh, yeah, she liked compliments. Definitely a point in her roommate's favor. Maybe this whole "living with a stranger" thing wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe it would be like she's used to, at least a little, and she'd have someone to talk to as she made her nest and settled in. (Nest, because Flicker knew the term bed, and most selkies she knew would use it or another equivalent term, but... Well, Flicker's bed always ended up being more like a nest, and she liked the term, so, deal with it.)

She nodded at the information. Jerky was good. And she'd ask more about the vodka later, since she'd only had alcohol like... once, ever, in the middle of the Canadian nowhereness. She laughed at Xera's assessment of the forest-hallway dilemma, and nodded. Flicker had never been not-a-shifter before, but she could assume it had its navigational merits. Even if she couldn't turn into a homing pigeon, which really would be nice sometimes.

"Oh? What's that?" she asked, following Xera's comment. She got up then, to follow, adjusting her leggings and mustard-colored longsleeve as she did. These clothes were all so weird, but... kinda comfy. Flicker liked them. She then waited for Xera to show her the mystery thing, curiosity sparking in her sagey brown eyes.