fandomtownies | The beach, Sunday afternoon

The sound of waves rolling in was something he was starting to increasingly appreciate. It had a way of calming the mind, and had been a relief from the moans and voices on Ingvar island. Ichabod certainly didn't believe in superstitions like ghosts at home, but since this place operated by different rules, it seemed, he wasn't entirely sure now. Or rather, he had come to terms with using the word 'haunted'.

But today they had moved back to the dorms, which were no longer infested. This, among other reasons, put Ichabod in a good mood, as he leisurely walked along the edge of the water, his coat slung across his shoulder.

Then he took another step and the world changed.

Why has he so much smaller? Why did walking suddenly feel awkward? Ichabod let out a noise which sounded nothing like his voice and flapped his wings -- wings? -- and rose into the air.

So he could fly? He was a bird? Bewildered, he landed on a rock. blinking slowly. What was he to do?

[Ichabod is now an owl, as I'm going on vacation. Expecting one, but open beach.]

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Celia was celebrating the return to the dorms -- and the island -- with a walk on the beach. Much as she had adored living with Eleanor, the actual surroundings had really left much to be desired. It hadn't taken her long to unpack, naturally, and so the morning had largely been spent reading and enjoying the fact that no one was mysteriously wailing near her ear.

Taking a break between chapters, though, she decided to go out and properly enjoy the sunshine, as well as a beach she hadn't spent much time on save for the odd class or picnic. And really, the absolute last thing she expected to see on the beach was an owl.

In the middle of the day.

"What in the world...?" she murmured, trying not to startle the bird when she spotted it but still looking around for any hint that they were about to be invaded by a slew of normally-nocturnal creatures or something. (Fandom had conditioned her, at this point.)

The light was far too bright, but Ichabod was fairly certain he recognized the person approaching just by the sound of her steps. He turned his head and blinked.

'Celia!' he wanted to call out, but instead he just hooted, sounding a little desperate.

Celia watched the owl carefully, because it almost seemed like it was addressing her.

Almost.

"Hello?" she called softly. (Once again: Fandom had conditioned her.) She stepped a little closer, frowning a little. "What are you doing out during the day, silly owl?"

'It's me! Ichabod! I don't know what happened!'

Again, just more hoots, now with some added flapping of wings. Ichabod gave Celia a rather desperate look, but perhaps it wasn't as easily interpreted as if he had been his usual self.

"Are you normally a person?"

Celia was really, really glad that just this owl was around to hear her, because that was an absurd question. But...well. Elsa had been a polar bear for weeks.

"Flap your wings for yes."

Once again Celia proved herself to be intelligent and resourceful. Ichabod stopped hooting and flapped his wings once. Then he tilted his head a little and looked at her.

Well, that helped quite a bit. Celia was still moving closer slowly, but now she was looking at the owl a little more curiously. "...do I know you?"

She'd still help them, but she was really hoping there would be no flapping right now. Please.

Ichabod flapped again, adding a sad hoot. He stretched his head towards Celia, as if that would make recognizing him easier.

Celia thought carefully back through who she'd seen today, kneeling by the owl with a sudden feeling of dread. She studied the owl for a long moment, sighing. Elsa had been a polar bear, so the island seemed to think that the most appropriate animal transformations had to do with one's character, or something distinctive about them.

Owls were wise...bookish, academic.

Damn it.

"Ichabod?"

Please be wrong. Please, please be wrong.

Ichabod, relieved that she now understood, flapped again and let out a soft sound, which could be interpreted as an endearment.

He then rose from the rock and landed right in front of Celia, looking up at her. She could help him, of course she could! She could transform things!

"Oh Ichabod," she sighed, sinking back on her heels in a puddle of skirts. She reached out to stroke his feathers, because she didn't know what else to do. "This happened to Elsa," she told him, shaking her head. "And a few of my teachers, last term. You...might be like this for awhile."

At least he was cute?

There was a questioning hoot. 'You can't change me back?' Not that Ichabod had any idea about how to explain that.

But her touch was nice, even when he was an owl. And come to think of it, wasn't his neck itching a little? He tilted his head.

She obligingly scritched his neck, continuing on without realizing she was answering his question. "Eleanor was carrying around Elsa-as-a-bear-cub for the better part of two weeks, if I remember correctly. I would've changed her back, but we were worried she'd still be...bear-like."

She eyed him dubiously, twisting her mouth a little. "That's the tricky bit about these transformations. I could put you back in the right shape, but I'm not willing to risk getting your mind wrong."

He blinked as he looked at her. That made sense, and he would certainly not question her judgement.

It was still confusing and distressing to be an owl, but now that Celia had found him he felt a lot less frightened.

Saying 'don't leave me' would have been a little awkward if she had actually understood, but as it only sounded like hooting he said it anyway.

"I wish I could understand you," she said, studying his little owl face and letting out a soft huff of frustration. She frowned a little, looked at his talons, and then tapped her fingertips lightly on her opposite arm. A thick glove formed immediately over her forearm, and she held her arm out to him doubtfully.

"I saw a man with a falcon once who had a glove like this," she shared. "This way I don't have to worry about your claws. You can stay with me while you're like this -- is that all right?"

In reply Ichabod jumped up on Celia's gloved wrist, ruffling his feather to make himself comfortable. He then turned his head in a half circle to look at her.

'Yes.' Another hoot.

"All right," Celia agreed, assuming that if that wasn't all right with him, then he wouldn't have hopped on her arm like that. "I'm glad I found you, at least, even if I can't understand you. And hopefully you'll be back to yourself in no time."

She hoped.

Ichabod hoped so too. In the meantime, he would stay with Celia, whose company he would enjoy despite his current bird-shape. He nibbled lightly at her finger, instead of a kiss.

The beach, Sunday afternoon

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