Got the dreamer's disease
Maybe she miscalculated the momentum of her bird mass turning into child mass. The sudden urge to have hands to grab hold of something as she started to feel herself slip to the side, combined with the realization that her talons would score more than bruises on the boys, meant she wanted back in the shape she knew best. Unfortunately, that shape was bigger and heavier and completely saved by the net of arms and bodies that fumble beneath her arrival. Turned out perfectly well for her, which is why she breathlessly pops up from the tangle of twins with a cheerful exclamation of, "that was so fun!"
Twisting about, only to realize it's a knee she's talking to instead of a head, Fern wriggles out of the moshpit of bodies and backs up onto her own legs, the length of the doctor's coat fighting the process every step of the way. "Oh!" she gasps, the splay of her hair matching the surprise, ruffled into something like bedhead after all of that. "I've heard of you two! Mother and father have mentioned you once in a while." This explanation is offered as she tries to file away which twin is which, her eyes darting back and forth in search of something besides a bird to mark them, especially when said bird has fled back into the air. "What's that one's name?" she wonders, assuming it to be Calan's (or was that Carlo? She's already started to forget.) companion.
Offering out a hand to each of them to help pull them up beside her, the coat sleeves promptly vanish them beneath a droop of white. "That makes sense," she decides, of choosing to age themselves up to play with her, because it does, but also because, "last I heard you were just babies. I only aged up a little while ago too, so that our house wouldn't be so." She lowers her voice suddenly, as if the word she's about to utter is taboo. "Crazy."
Twisting about, only to realize it's a knee she's talking to instead of a head, Fern wriggles out of the moshpit of bodies and backs up onto her own legs, the length of the doctor's coat fighting the process every step of the way. "Oh!" she gasps, the splay of her hair matching the surprise, ruffled into something like bedhead after all of that. "I've heard of you two! Mother and father have mentioned you once in a while." This explanation is offered as she tries to file away which twin is which, her eyes darting back and forth in search of something besides a bird to mark them, especially when said bird has fled back into the air. "What's that one's name?" she wonders, assuming it to be Calan's (or was that Carlo? She's already started to forget.) companion.
Offering out a hand to each of them to help pull them up beside her, the coat sleeves promptly vanish them beneath a droop of white. "That makes sense," she decides, of choosing to age themselves up to play with her, because it does, but also because, "last I heard you were just babies. I only aged up a little while ago too, so that our house wouldn't be so." She lowers her voice suddenly, as if the word she's about to utter is taboo. "Crazy."
Fern
This world is gonna pull through, don't give up
