The plant elemental-human hybrid with two dads wants life to make sense, now? [ He quietly wheeze-laughs at his own joke like a right jackarse. ] Those porter contraptions don't pull people from linear or similar points in time. Seems random -- that, or the people in control of 'em pick the moments to maximize their own amusement.

[ He doesn't mention that the last thing he'd been doing before getting yanked through to this universe was setting the Green into a slumber so it's meatsack host could try free will for a change - which he knew wouldn't last, but he'd had bloody caped folk breathing down his neck and no way to shut them up. Still, he'd wondered if that was the reason for his shite luck in finding any stirring in the swamplands he'd visited. Until now, anyways. ]