The Tapir was having the worst day in recent memory which, admittedly, was rather shorter than one would expect from an ancient creature such as he. In the time since he'd arrived to... wherever he is... which he was fairly certain was a few hours at least - he'd become aware of a few things: 1. He had a soul, and it was somehow shared with a strange wet creature in the bottle at his waist, 2. He was not home, and his powers were not cooperating, and 3. Everything was awful.

He paused in his walking, wiping perspiration from his furrowed brow. This body was endlessly frustrating, so tiny and bony and weak. It was bad enough to be given a mortal form but he was beginning to feel certain he'd been given a much smaller than average body - perhaps even a mortal child's! The Tapir glowered at the sky, still waiting for one of his fellow gods to appear and take credit for this "charming" prank, but all he could see was a large structure he knew just had to have been crafted by humans or their equivalent; only they would find such a hulking, giant blot on the horizon attractive.

He sighed and pushed his tired, achy feet into movement once again. After what felt like another lifetime, The Tapir pushed aside some well-groomed plants - different from those he's encountered thus far, not that he noticed - and encountered another. Without hesitation, the tiny fallen God strode over to the other boy. One slender hand atop his head to keep his yellow hat in place, The Tapir - face expressionless - stared.

After a substantial delay, he becomes are his Voice is not getting through to the boy.

"He must be dense," he says at last, his tone vague. Another long delay. "Where is this place, two-leg?"