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Deep in a dreamless sleep, Iarla was unmoving and silent in Dusty's room. As a swan he lay on the pillows, looking for all the world like he was a very dead bird. But in the weak light of dawn, he began to change - though he knew nothing of it, asleep so utterly that he did not even stir as the transformation again took place.

It was a bit strange to look at, if anyone were to see it. Yet it was not grotesque: there was almost a certain harmony as he became larger, as the feathers pulled back into him and disappeared, as his hair returned to him. Though he was laying on his stomach, his body was still naked.

Strangely, it had the faintest hint of curves - the barest dusting of hips across his middle. It was not blatant, but it was there.

His face was turned to the side: now a human face again, the long lashes and slightly noticeable lips were plain to see. But he was still completely male in form, and asleep, sound asleep...even as his naked body revealed him utterly.

The sound was so loud that it actually succeeded in jerking him out of sleep. Iarla's eyes snapped open, and he scrambled onto his knees - only to see a woman standing there shrieking at the top of her lungs. He was so momentarily shocked that he flipped over (thereby completely exposing everything on his front from his head down to his toes: including the fact that he lacked equipment from the waist down). He nearly backed right into Dusty who was also now on the floor.

Shoving a hand over one of his ears, Iarla called out painfully, "Wa - please, stop yelling! Please stop!" The jarring sounds of the noise made his head swim; he was oblivious to everything else in his fear.

Iarla is slow to figure out exactly what had happened. Just as Arrien begins screaming about his being naked, he is able to see it: absolutely mortified, he throws himself onto his knees on the floor, grabbing his clothes from left and right; they are soon a pile in his arms. "P-Please, we - I can - explain -" Yet he completely forgets the situation as he stands up again, still bearing everything below his waist into to the whole room.

Scrambling, he squats down on the floor to through his cloak quickly over his shoulders. Try as he might to stop it, his eyes began to tear up. Trembling, he got out in a jumbled rush, "I'm sorry, I can explain - please don't be angry with Dusty, he helped me, I -" Sinking into a speechless confusion, Iarla didn't even bother to keep talking. But the woman's voice was very loud, and if he wasn't able to control himself, he'd end up a swan all over again.

Iarla watched the conversation between Dusty and (he assumed) his Guardian. He did not understand most of what they were referring to, but he was grateful for the drop in decibel level.

Frantically pulling his cloak tightly around himself, he grabbed his hairpin tightly in his hand, not wanting to lose it. To him, it was the most important piece of his belongings.

He stood up very carefully. After he made sure to check that his cloak was covering him adequately, he simply watched as the argument between Dusty and Arrien continued. Where is Kuraino? I can't remember ever being separated from her this long. She will find me, won't she? I've no idea how to get home...

He swallowed hard, his hair falling into his eyes. I should apologize again, and probably leave here; she's angry, and maybe for good reason. But where will I go? And Dusty is my only friend...

If only I had spared a moment to think before I walked through the portal in my wall.

Iarla blinked, slightly surprised by Arrien's sudden change. He fidgeted beneath his cloak, still gripping his hairpin tightly in one hand with the rest of his clothes under his other arm. He glanced up. "Yes, ma'am, I am a bit hungry," he admitted. It looked like he had gotten lucky as far as time went: either the new place he was in now had the same time zone as home, or some magic had synced him correctly to it on his way through the portal.

His stomach gave a faint growl. Quickly he shoved his hand over his cloak in embarrassment. "Miss," he said quietly. "I - I'm truly sorry for startling you like this." He looked over at Dusty, barely able to whisper out the humiliating reality of his situation: "My transformation back to my human self happened while I was asleep." He hung his head. "I can't wear clothes as a bird, so I..." He put his face in his palm. "I - I'm very sorry." He was blushing horribly. "Th-That tends to happen under the most awkward circumstances."

He shifted his clothes and boots into his arms, still completely flustered. "I-If you have a bathroom, I-I can make myself decent."

Iarla thanked Arrien several more times before she closed the door. Watching Dusty stomp out was the painful part: it's my fault he was chastised like that. He felt so guilty as he dropped his clothes on the floor and began pulling them on that he tried to think of some way to repay Dusty's help. But I don't have anything, especially not now, away from home like this...

As he sat down and pulled his boots on, he looked at his hairpin that he had placed carefully on the floor. He glanced at the door, grimacing; he bit his lip. It's the only thing I have... Yet it was his most prized possession - of everything he owned, even at home. It had been fashioned just for him, and he was never seen without it clipped in his hair.

What else could I possibly give? But this is so important to me.

He was still a bit surprised how quickly he had considered Dusty a friend: even as the drunkard in the bar had raised his gun and pointed it... There I went, flapping into his face crazily; I didn't want him to...kill Dusty. He swallowed. That man really could have killed them.

He placed a hand across his middle, still sore after being kicked there. At least we're safe now.

He stood up, picked his hairpin off the floor. He shook his hair back, looking around the room for a mirror. He didn't see one in his first glance, so he flipped his cloak over his shoulders with his spare hand and walked to the door.

Guiltily he looked over his shoulder at Dusty's room. Now I feel worse for even trying to find something else to give, he thought. I could be anywhere right now, if it weren't for him helping me. I don't even know where I am, but it seems like it has to be a different world altogether. He shifted his gaze up to the ceiling, taking in the meaning of that thought. I might never get home. He had to work very hard to keep his face set after that occurred to him. That was the last thing he needed to do: cry all over the place like some kind of child.

He gripped his hairpin in his hand tightly. What if I offer him this for now, until I can fashion him something more suitable? He looked down at the clip in his palm. I don't think he would even like to wear this. The guilt was somewhat crushing as he realized that with relief. Iarla, you are sometimes horrible.

What could I possibly give him that he would like?

His thoughts went back to Dusty's obsidian knife, which had been brandished (valiantly, too) in the bar.

Iarla snapped his fingers slowly. Ah...that knife he had. An obsidian one too... Obsidian was highly prized back home. That knife was probably worth more marks than Iarla could count. But, it may be different in this world. If there are no demons, a knife made of obsidian would probably not be too helpful for him. He would have to ask if there were any, but if there weren't...

Suddenly excited with his new discovery, he thought, my sword. I could give him that if I can get home and get some of my belongings...

He blinked, shocked. He'd just thought of coming back here, even if he could go back home. He had no idea why he would think of doing that: this place wasn't home, right?

But... He turned back around and stared at Dusty's room again. This is different from home. I don't even feel...completely out of place here. Dusty is clearly different too, although I don't understand everything he talks about regarding this world. An almost relieved smile crossed his face. He did feel like crying now, but because of happiness instead of fear. I know it sounds absurd, but I like it here. Everything that happened last night was kind of terrifying, but we survived together, didn't we? He laughed softly, in spite of himself. I already think of him as a friend, and so quickly? That's rare for you, Iarla!

But he had no friends at home that weren't Kuraino's family. He simply didn't fit anywhere. He knew he was different, but he had no idea why. He didn't look like anyone at home, with their clan symbols and their Gifts and their simple, light skin. Instead he had this birthmark across his face; he turned into a bird completely against his will; he didn't look male Down There like everybody else.

He bowed his head, flustered at the very thought. That was still painful for him to even think about...let alone force the whole world to see by waking up naked.

"Ahhh!" he said, slamming his hands onto his head. "I can't believe that just happened! What the hell..." He almost never swore, but this was a very good reason to swear. At least, maybe, Arrien wouldn't suspect any foul play on his part. Since there was, you know, nothing he could really do as far as having sex with anyone.

"Dammit," he said painfully to his mind. "Shut up." That was so - not only humiliating to think about, but hurtful. It was not as if he'd ever been attracted to another living soul, but he wanted desperately to be normal. And that was normal.

He dropped his head. In any case, I can offer Dusty my sword. I like to think of it as a rather exceptional one. Kuraino is a royal after all. She can afford the best. The sword had been especially made for him too: swans swirled at the hilt, extending their wings up the blade. Though it was a beautiful thing that he did indeed cherish, he felt easier offering it to Dusty. I can get another sword, too. I'm not sure of the state of my hairpin in that regard, but in any case, Dusty could use my sword. And well too, I think.

More cheerful at that prospect, he turned around again and opened the door, stepping out to look up the stairs. He could smell food already, and it smelled good. He closed the door behind him quietly, ascending the stairs. It seemed like the kitchen was right up them. "I-I've finished," he called out as he came up to the top landing. "Thank you," he said, a bit more softly.

Iarla peeked into the kitchen, walking in slowly. The smell of breakfast got his stomach going. He remembered eating dinner the day that he was still at home, but who knew how many hours had passed since then?

He smiled nervously at Dusty, still holding his hairpin tightly in his hand. Should I give it to him now? No, not yet, I'll just place it on the table until we're all ready to eat. This he did, setting it with a slight click onto the tabletop.

"I'll help," he said, more than willing. He watched Arrien's hard work at the stove. This was all very new to him, and perhaps a little strange, but there was something inherently familiar in a good breakfast. The thought comforted him.

"Thank you," he said to Arri, absolutely sincere. He was so very grateful for all of it. Maybe I can...try to explain...my situation to her, too, after we finish...

Hoisting plates into his hands, he began setting the table, feeling weirdly content among the mild chaos of cooking.