[ despite his best efforts, it's taking bryde longer to adjust than he'd like to admit, although he's aware that he should likely be more patient with himself. he is, after all, a complicated creature, and technically only a few months old. and given his connections to the ley lines back home, to the magic of his world, well, it's only natural that it might take some time to feel.. awake. as awake, at least, as a dreamt dreamer can ever be.

the sweetmetal he'd stolen, at least, is still safely in his possession, although he's not certain how long it will last him, or even if it's necessary. his dreamer isn't dead, after all, simply elsewhere, and in theory, this world is full of enough magic to sustain him until he can get back home.

still, he knows how dazed and lost he must look, even after others are beginning to recover from the shock of arrival. being in hydroponics helps a little, although not much. these are domesticated plants, orderly rows tended by human hands. they don't know earth's forests, and there are no trees. still, it's better than nothing. ]

They don't speak, [ he admits to someone nearby, feeling a little lightheaded. ] At least, not in any language I can hear.

[ as a dream, and as one that was made with certain characteristics in mind, there are a number of aspects of humanity that his dreamer unconsciously disregarded when creating him. he is, in fact, mostly magic, which also means that.. the spores don't really affect him.

he's agreeable enough when it comes to helping those that were, though, administering the unusual cure, slender hand steady against someone's upper back as he helps them to sit up. ]

Careful, I'm told the effects may linger. [ then, with a small, pleased smile: ] It's a shame that you weren't able to see the parent. [ what parent? ]

I don't care about things like money, and I have very few of the needs that humans share with one another.