ABOARD XANDER'S VESSEL
Mrs. Honso. Mrs. Honso? Who is this woman, and why is--Oh. It's me. Groaning inwardly as the reality of her situation dawned on her once more, Tandra Kerthain rubbed her eyes, still heavy with sleep. It's too early...
Quaver, however, her newly-dubbed "son", was wide awake and ready for action. He'd been that way ever since he was a toddler, needing very little rest in order to survive. Perhaps it was his hyperactive nature, or perhaps this state of being was an adaptation he'd made in order to adjust to life at the medical facility. No one had liked him there, or even tolerated his presence very much, and so Quaver'd had to be ready for anything and anyone that would do him harm. His senses had become ultra-heightened.
"Come on, Mom!" he cried, tugging at Tandra's arm. "It's showtime!"
Tandra shook her head. "Time to go through with the charade, you mean. I still don't like this. What if the Ysanna see through us and think we're fake?"
"If we're good and pull off our act to the best of our ability, they won't. Remember, Tandra: the best actors are ones that don't constantly realize that they're acting. Put yourself in the shoes of the real Mrs. Honso, and you'll do fine."
She tousled Quaver's hair again, and he did not resist. "Thanks, kid."
"You're welcome. And, one more thing...no 'medium-type' stuff, okay?"
He meant trying to contact Lyna, even for the sake of the Ysanna tribe.
"Trust me," Tandra grumbled. "That'll be the LAST thing on my frazzled mind!"