The Universe's Mixer

Schmendrick had gotten used to the City. He'd learned to take the oddities in stride - not that he enjoyed the strangeness, but he'd accepted that there wasn't much that could be done to change it, so he'd stopped trying. Instead, he sat quietly on a park bench, slowly flipping the pages of a newspaper and enjoying the Spring sunshine. It was early afternoon, and for once, he had shed the ridiculous robes that marked him some sort of magician. ( Or, well, some sort of weirdo or Jedi. Take your pick. )

Today after a session with her tutor Susan was on a mission: to find more stable housing that would take a young woman not from this time period. So as she walked the streets with quiver in hand (passing for a traveling Ren Faire actress to most) she looked over the addresses she had been given. Most of the houses seemed to be nice but something felt wrong, either there was too many older men (not the age of her brothers or Caspian) or something was just amiss. So she kept looking at the rest of the list as she walked.

"This one looks nice" landing outside a boarding house for young ladies and deciding to come back for a look after a cup of tea at the near by cafe. So there she was, looking average but very out of place at the same time as she went over notes from the afternoon of looking at places to live.

Schmendrick was older than he looked, and he'd seen a lot of weird things in his day. Perhaps that was why, as a wave of swooning romantic sentiment overtook the City, he went casually about his routine as if nothing were off. He purchased a coffee at the corner store, picked up a newspaper, and made his way into the park to find a bench and start his morning. The quiet flipping of pages was interrupted only occasionally, when the tall hook-nosed man glanced up to watch clingy couples walk by.

For a showman, Schmendrick had always been a restrained sort when it came to romance. Youth had long since passed him by, and while he was earnest, he wasn't effusive. Perhaps that's why the couples made him smile; just because the sentiment behind Valentine's Day was no longer new and fresh for him didn't mean that he couldn't appreciate the joy of others.

He folded his paper. He wasn't likely to get much reading done with the City in such a worked-up state.

Schmendrick had a particular point of view when it came to hardship: outlast, outlast, outlast. He'd developed an infuriating amount of patience over the years, which he'd needed to keep from going mad as the world passed him by and left him treading water. He had the feeling that he could outlast this, too. The City was not the worst place he'd ever been, and though he was rather disappointed in his occasionally-faulty magic, that was old hat too. He could cope. He could outlast.

The key was a sense of humor. He didn't need a job - Zoe had been right about the City providing food and money. So, he didn't take one. Instead, on sunny days he set up in the park nearest to where he was staying and did tricks. Once upon a time such things would've seemed beneath him, but he was finding that even the mistakes made children smile. It seemed worthwhile, like a way to benefit the people around him, even if it were in some small way.

He'd rather spend his days laughing than miserable.

At the moment, Schmendrick was at a fork in the path, busy turning handkerchiefs into hummingbirds. He got two correct in a row, then balled the third in his fist and transformed it into an orange. So far, so good.

Then the orange began to sing quite the bawdy song. It was barely two lines in, just before the opening description of the barkeep's daughter, and the magician's eyes had gone as wide as dinner plates. He slapped a hand over the opening in the peel that was serving as a mouth and hissed at the orange. "SHHH."

"Mfffmrrruuuuhhhhmmmm." The orange hummed.

Being a cat had to be an all-time low for Dick. (Alright, that wasn't true, there was the time when he was lying in a largish pool of his own blood and everybody thought he would be dead in minutes.) Being a cat that changed back to a man on the hour had to be even worse. For one thing, he couldn't go outside for very long. The snow was coming down in waves, and being a rather small, warm fuzzy animal one minute and then a rather large naked man the next meant snow was not the ideal environment for Dick.

Then there was the overwhelming urge to claw things. Literally, almost anything. Buffy walked across the room once and suddenly her ankles just had this... incredible appeal. He had to get them. So he sprang, sank his claws in... and she was rather upset with him for a while afterward. It was all very embarrassing.

Most of their research on the topic went nowhere. The watch couldn't have been older than a couple hundred years (considering when pocket watches were in vogue, likely later), but other than that, they had nothing. No idea where it was made, or why, or whether the spell on it had anything to do with the watch at all. Maybe some nut just picked it up and decided to practice making the owner a cat. Thought it was funny, or something.

Dick wished he could throw things. He put it on his list of things to do when he changed. He had a whole minute as a human, and he made a list of things to do once he got there. Throw something. Scratch the exact top of his head. Eat a piece of fruit.

One night, when Dick was at the point of suggesting they just smash the damn watch, the City must have decided this whole thing had run its course. The doorbell started ringing, and the City started dumping the magically inclined at Buffy's doorstep--probably so it wouldn't have to deal with Dick the Cat's irritated yowling.

The little black feline apparently was dropped into the deep snow, becoming completely lost amongst the white, frigged blanket. Sitting up as much as he could muster, JiJi barely was able to see over the drift, let alone figure out where he was. The last he remembered, he was hopping down from the roof to the attic room that he and Kiki shared, fully intent on waking the young witch before the sun rose too high in the sky; Falling into a snow drift was not something he had been expecting however.

Crouching down, the black streak popped up out of the snow only to be deposited into yet another deep pile not too far away. And this continued until the ebony feline finally found a more trodden path that had been worn down by human foot traffic. Currently he was a black and white cat thanks to the fluffy white bits sticking to his fur, which were easily removed by a good shake.

"Kiki? Hey Kiki is this some of of joke? Did you learn weather magic or something last night?" white, wide eyes glanced around, finally noticing that he didn't smell the scent of the sea at all. Actually, it didn't smell anything like the little port side town they had been calling home during the little witch's one year of training away from home.

"Hey... this isn't home..."

After the initial shock of being dropped into a strange place, alone and without most of his traveling gear, Schmendrick had decided that the City was not, in fact, such a horrible place. He could handle this: he wasn't happy about it, mind you, but he didn't panic or get angry the way he might have, once upon a time. He had his wits, and he could form a plan. Someone was sure to know of a way home. He'd just ask around.

It had proved harder than expected. No one seemed to know where Hagsgate was, and when he'd explained that he wanted to get home, they gave him pitying looks. He wasn't the first one to have been in this situation, it seemed.

So, Schmendrick set up temporary arrangements. He'd found a key to an apartment in his pocket, and while the idea of living in a compartment half the size of Haggard's kitchen didn't really appeal, it was shelter. Schmendrick had never been one to turn up his nose at free shelter. Or food.

Food was going to be slightly harder to come by. He'd had no idea that he ought to look in the refrigerator, because he had no idea what a refrigerator was. So, instead, he'd taken to the nearest street corner to do magic for coin or food. It was humiliating, but let it not be said that Schmendrick refused to embarrass himself in the pursuit of a good meal.

At the moment, three balls were busy juggling themselves. It was a simple enchantment, but it wasn't working entirely to plan. As Schmendrick reached into his pocket for something to transfigure, one of the juggling balls whalloped him hard, against the side of his head. The other two followed suit. WHAM. WHAM. Suddenly they were busy boxing his ears, which was decidedly not what he'd intended when he'd muttered the sing-songy spell.

"OW." Schmendrick hissed, lifting his hands to protect his skull. The balls abruptly dropped, one knocking him soundly on the crown as it fell. They hit the pavement and scattered, rolling off in all directions.