Emily woke up. What? Emily never woke up because she never slept. She was warm. The blanket over her body was soft. Emily was feeling. It had been several lifetimes since she had felt anything. Was this a dream or someone’s idea of a sick joke? How was this possible?

The girl looked down at herself. This wasn’t her body. What was happening? Emily quickly stood up and looked for a mirror. The carpet on the ground was soft and tickled her feet. It was a sensory overload. The smell of the room was floral. After all these years, Emily remembered the smell of flowers. The girl began to cry. The tears were hot. She remembered tears. She remembered breathing. She remembered sore muscles and that stretching eased the tension.

Emily didn’t recognize the reflection in the mirror. If maybe she had, then she would have an idea of what was going on. All of this was overwhelming. She didn’t know what to do.

There was some commotion coming from outside her room. Opening the door, there was a girl wondering whose body she was in. So this wasn’t something that just happened to her. That was a relief. Several other young people came out into the hallway expressing their surprise of waking up in someone else’s body. Emily was slowly beginning to piece together what was happening. She went back into her room and called her own cell-phone number.

“Hello? Who is this? It seems we may have switched bodies. You should get back to the mansion right away. My keys are in my purse next to my bedroom door. If you can’t drive, there should be enough money in my purse to take a cab.”

Margo, slumped in the shadows of a deserted alley, stirred as the morning light crept through the city. It was just another ordinary day in the life of the fifteen year old...at least, it should have been. But something was drastically wrong, as mutants all over the city were about to discover.

She should have woken up in bed. Even half-conscious, she could tell she was not in bed. In hindsight, she should have known then. At the moment, she was seized with a vague notion that she had been sleepwalking or something again, as she had been known to do. It wasn't until the phone started ringing and she got onto her feet, that the girl realized she had exactly no idea where she was or what she was doing there.

To make things worse, she was feeling remarkably odd: well, to be exact, she couldn't feel anything at all. It was funny how you didn't think about the way your hair fell down your back or the temperature or your pulse or the fact that you breathed, until you were...quite literally dead.

Not that Margo knew any of that yet. Not that Margo knew anything yet, except that she was in something of a fix.

The ringtone was unfamiliar, and it took her a moment to locate the phone. (It was in the pocket of her jacket- except it was neither her phone nor her jacket) She listened to it, her mind registering the words, panicking somewhat, yet her body refusing to react. It was her own voice on the other end.

At last she stumbled out of the alleyway, turning and seeing her reflection in a shop window. "Oh gosh," Margo faltered, her eyes confirming what she had just been told.

Who's idea of a sick joke was this?

“Hello? Is anyone there?” She heard her voice say a mild explicit statement on the other end. It was interesting to hear herself without an accent. She sounded nice over the phone. “Yes. It’s all quite a shock. Now hurry back please. Maybe we can get this sorted out. But it seems like this is happening all over wherever I am right now. Others are freaking out over here. Anyway, see you soon.”

Emily hung up and looked around the room. She should probably get dresses. The girl rifled through a drawer and picked herself out some underwear. Is this all that modern women were wearing these days? How were things kept in the shape it should be? Well I guess these two small garments would have to do. She looked through the closet, looking for the most modest of clothes. Luckily, this girl had a few. She picked out a long sleeve shirt and slacks. Clothes were so much softer now. Jeans felt strange. She didn’t like them.

Now to the W.C. to make her face presentable. In her own body, her makeup was very important to keep herself from looking dead. But this face had color to it. And it was younger. So all Emily did was put a little eyeliner and some color on her cheeks and lips. She brushed her teeth first. The flavor was strong and stung her nose.

Now downstairs to the kitchen. Emily was finally going to get to taste again. She was just dreaming of the food that could be in the refrigerator.

“Yes. It’s all quite a shock. Now hurry back please. Maybe we can get this sorted out. But it seems like this is happening all over wherever I am right now. Others are freaking out over here. Anyway, see you soon...”

"Wait-!" Margo started to say, before she heard the click that was Emily hanging up on her. She stared quite numbly at the phone, now dead in her hand. Her day seemed to be getting worse and worse. None of this had even been supposed to happen!

It was odd, being upset, like being bottled up. Because her mind was screaming that none of this was fair (Margo knew perfectly well nothing about life was ever fair, yet she still let it bother her), her body seemed to be taking a nap. It just blatantly ignored the girl's fear and despair and annoyance and need for life to be fair, which was mostly a good thing...yet oddly disconcerting at the same time.

What in the world was wrong with this lady whose body Margo was (unwillingly, let me tell you) inhabiting? She felt wrong, in so many ways. Heartless, senseless, dead meat. Honestly, all that could be forgiven; a little discomfort that she could forget in no time. What really bothered her was the fact that whoever was currently in her body seemed to like it, seemed to barely care for what Margo was going through at the moment. And then there was the question of why she was in some alleyway.

All the better reason to get back to the Mansion and get things straight, she thought. Keys...purse...bedroom door...Well, that obviously was not going to happen. Since she was, thankfully, sort of familiar with this part of the city, Margo decided to slip onto the bus. So she didn't pay the fare...Oh, well.

It helped a little, the fact that it wasn't just her going through this. But it also worried her, because she didn't know how big this problem was.

Emily hurried down the stairs, her bare feet enjoying the feeling of hard wood beneath them. The carpet was even better. She took a moment to wiggle her toes in it. The tile in the kitchen was cold. There were a few other young people in the kitchen, some who had swapped bodies and others who seemed to be still in there’s. “I’m making breakfast. I hope all of you are hungry.”

The refrigerator was stocked. Emily left it open to feel the coolness. She grabbed the eggs, milk, and other ingredients to make omelets. Emily would was going to make pancakes from scratch, but she found a box with almost all of the ingredients already in there. She had to try them. The smells were to die for. Later today, she would try sushi. But for supper there would be fried chicken and collard greens. Or maybe turnip greens. How long was Emily going to be in this body? She hoped for a while.

She hummed as she cooked, occasionally breaking into song. She placed her hand over the cooking eggs to feel the heat. She wanted to sample her food, but decided it was best to wait until serving.

Tea! She had to make tea. All those decades putting it to her lips without getting to drink its warmth. She went to boil water and find the tea packets. Maybe she would make pork-chops tomorrow. Or go to a restaurant and pig out.

The food was complete. The table was soon laid out with ham and cheese omelets, blue-berry pancakes, toast with jam and butter, tea, orange juice, and milk. She prayed before she ate and dug in, not caring if anyone grabbed themselves a serving or not.

Margo stood before the gates of the Mansion a bus ride later, impatient to figure out what the heck was happening. Now that she was here, where to? The location had not been specified by the voice on the other end of the phone- aka her voice. So entering, she headed upstairs to her room. The surroundings were familiar yet surreal. The girl, still feeling nothing, was beginning to wonder whether this effect was permanent. Heaven forbid she'd be stuck in this corpse forever! She shuddered mentally at the thought.

"Hello?" She said, to an empty room. Everything was as she had left it last night, as far as she could remember. There was no trace of herself.

Shutting the door gently behind her, Margo went back the way she had come. She wondered where she should look next. She went through the hallway, down the stairs, across the building, into the kitchen. Then she froze.

You would think since she had known (basically) what was coming, it would have been less of a shock. Well, nope. At the table, apparently still unaware of Margo's presence, stuffing her face with the tantalizing breakfast foods before her, was...Margo?

Bacon. Oh Emily had forgotten bacon. She had added ham to her omelet but had totally forgotten the quintessential pig dish. Maybe she would have a BLT for lunch. She had never had one before and they seemed popular. Some other students were enjoying her food. Emily was glad she could still cook. She had always enjoyed being in the kitchen, even long after she had died. But had always had this slight fear in the back of her mind that food had changed in flavor and the recipes she once knew no longer tasted good. But after sampling her pancakes and omelet, that fear subsided. Her new stomach was starting to feel uncomfortable. She was eating too much. With a heavy sigh, she pushed her plate away. She wanted to keep eating.

Emily finally looked up from her plate and saw herself standing in the doorway. How long had she been there? The dead girl in front of her was in the same clothes she had picked out the night before. They were a little rumpled, maybe from falling or climbing. Emily felt a little violated. What had this young girl been doing, exactly, in her body? “Er, hello.” She stood up and crossed over to herself. She thought of extending her hand, but for some reason it felt awkward. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten in decades. I just wanted to see what it was like, is all.” She wiped her mouth from any crumbs that may be lingering.

“My name is Emily.” Emily went back to the table and started getting rid of the dirty dishes. She went to the sink to rinse everything before putting it in the dishwasher. “Do you know anyone who may know what is going on?”

It seemed like a lifetime (although it was probably only about a minute) until the person she had been last night finally looked up from her plate.

"Er, hello. Sorry, I haven't eaten in decades. I just wanted to see what it was like, is all. My name is Emily.”

"Margo," said Margo numbly- it seemed like everything she did this morning was done numbly. Not quite comprehending what Emily had said, she absentmindedly reached for a glass of juice. The motion was mostly to steady herself, keep from freaking out like she desperately wanted to, but couldn't, at the moment. What was left of the food on the table did look very good, yet for some odd reason, she... didn't feel hungry.

The girl stood there silently, watching almost dumbly as Emily started clearing the table. She was managing rather well to be calm, that was, until Emily spoke from the sink where she was standing.

"Do you know anyone who may know what is going on?"

"I thought you said you knew..." said Margo.

Emily didn’t look up from the sink. “No, I said that someone here might know what is going on. I believe we are in The Mansion, that school for mutants. Someone here, a professor maybe, might know what is going on. Sorry I didn’t leave any food for you. My body can’t eat anything, unfortunately. Just stays in your stomach and rots. My digestive track doesn’t work, you see. But it’s fine, it’s not like I have a sense of taste or smell anyway.”

Emily finished loading the dishwasher and walked over to her body, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “That body that you are in, my body, is dead. Has been for almost two centuries. My mutation keeps my body functioning somehow.”

She threw the paper towel in the wastebasket. “Now while I enjoy feeling, and smelling, and tasting, I have grown quite use to being dead. And I’m sure it is quite a shock for you mentality to be trapped in a body like mine. So I would like to get this solved as quickly as possible.”

“You live her. Who do you know that is around here that might know what is going on?”

(OOC: Sorry it took me so long to post! I'm using a seriously outdated computer and it keeps crashing)

“No, I said that someone here might know what is going on. I believe we are in The Mansion, that school for mutants. Someone here, a professor maybe, might know what is going on. Sorry I didn’t leave any food for you. My body can’t eat anything, unfortunately. Just stays in your stomach and rots. My digestive track doesn’t work, you see. But it’s fine, it’s not like I have a sense of taste or smell anyway. That body that you are in, my body, is dead. Has been for almost two centuries. My mutation keeps my body functioning. Now while I enjoy feeling, and smelling, and tasting, I have grown quite use to being dead. And I’m sure it is quite a shock for you mentally to be trapped in a body like mine. So I would like to get this solved as quickly as possible." Emily said, all rather calmly. Having finished loading the dishwasher, she dried her hands.

Margo had put her glass of orange juice, almost to her lips, down quite forcefully when she had heard the business of food staying in her stomach and rotting. Now, processing what she had just been told, she ran her fingers through her hair (and was reminded once again that it was not her hair). So Emily was dead, or undead. Well, that explained a lot of things.

"It's not so much a shock as it is disconcerting," said Margo, "but yes, I would like this business solved as soon as possible." She'd never had thought of it, but she missed blinking. Geez, this was weird. "School for mutants? More like classy homeless shelter, with school thrown in somewhere along the way." Fine, perhaps she was being a little unfair to the Mansion. She tried to be less picky, failing miserably (She could be rather judgmental at times). "And you know how schools are. Or perhaps you don't, if you grew up that long ago. In any case, I doubt the teachers will be of much help. I don't even know anything about them."

"You live here. Who do you know that is around here that might know what is going on?”

The girl had to admit she didn't know. But, "Did you see anything going on this morning, by any chance? That might help us?"

Emily stepped out of the kitchen and found some sitting chairs nearby. “Well, I noticed some other students upstairs that seemed to be in the same boat we are. Some of them didn’t know where they were or whose body they were in. So it seems we were not targeted specifically. I think this is just a random thing that has happened. But I am not sure.”

Though Emily tended to be rather melancholy about her immortality, the thought of dying forever suddenly peaked in her mind. What if she never got her body back? What if she aged and died like a regular person? Emily had accepted her never-ending existence. The idea of that being taken away from her bothered her more than she thought it would. It was great being able to eat and feel, but she had gotten use to not having these abilities. The sudden bombardment of stimuli was beginning to give her a headache.

“Since we are not sure what is going on, maybe we should check out the news on the television. If there is nothing there, then we should try to find a teacher and see if they have any ideas.” I student had been passing by. He piped up and said there was nothing on the news and the teachers who hadn’t switched bodies were just as confused as everyone else. This caused Emily’s headache to worsen.

“Well, since it seems this is one big fluke, maybe we should just sit around until someone figures something out.” Emily was at a loss. What could they possibly do?

(OOC: sorry it's been a while!)

“Well, since it seems this is one big fluke, maybe we should just sit around until someone figures something out.” said Emily finally.

One big fluke is right, Margo thought. What the heck was this? She considered turning on the news, just in case something came on, but reasoned against it. It wasn't like it would do any good. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be somebody here, at the Mansion. Besides, the news didn't care about mutant problems, except when they saw a way to spew mutant hate.

She sat, pondering. What were they to do? The girl rested her eyes, absentmindedly, on herself (or Emily in her body, however you wished to think about it). She looked so different, like a lady. It wasn't bad, just different. Was she wearing makeup?

"Mutations are pretty strange things, yeah?" Margo said, thinking out loud. Heck, Emily was undead. "It sounds pretty far-fetched, but do you think a mutation triggered this? I mean, it's pretty much all that we, as in the people being affected, have in common."

It was terrible logic, but at this point, the girl didn't really care. They needed to start with something.