Shirley Holmes (
nopolicelikeholmes) wrote in
stepsideways2012-10-09 11:20 am
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There is a young lady in the square. It may not have been obvious when she appeared; she's just a normal woman - taller than average - in a brown trenchcoat. But she's there now, looking about her with a sense of curiosity that seems to want to take in everything and store it away forever. She's staring, possibly staring at you and reading you like a book. And apparently you're one of those really good books - the kind with more questions than answers, the kind that keeps you turning the pages long after you should have gone to bed - because her dark eyes glimmer with interest at each new aspect she notices and there's just the hint of a smile on her lips.
"Amazing," she murmurs to no one in particular, "no two of them are alike."
[ ooc: I now have a permissions post set up, with a thing to fill out if you do/don't want your characters to be deduced. ]
"Amazing," she murmurs to no one in particular, "no two of them are alike."
[ ooc: I now have a permissions post set up, with a thing to fill out if you do/don't want your characters to be deduced. ]
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Already short, Simon seems to shrink even further into himself. He twitches when she speaks, wringing his hands together even more nervously than he had been before. He makes a strangled sound in his throat on his first attempt to speak, and after taking a moment to quietly clear his throat he tries again.
"Are you talking to me?"
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"I am now." She smiles. "Hi."
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Unlike her, he doesn't smile, looking her up and down suspiciously. "Why are you looking at me?"
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"I was looking at everyone," she answers honestly. "Does it bother you?"
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"It's... uncomfortable," he admits, still uncertain.
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"Oh," she said, with some embarrassment but not so much that she was exactly going to lose sleep over it. "Sorry. I just sort of found myself here with no explanation as to how that happened, so I thought that observing the people around me would help. I didn't mean to disturb."
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"You didn't disturb me," he assures her, with a slight shake of his head. "This is Burby. It seems as though a lot of people find themselves here with no explanation. I haven't found out why yet."
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He wasn't there a second ago. But that's how he rolls.
Today Alec's got his blue greatcoat on with a black t-shirt that says "Can't Sleep, Flowers Will Get Me", jeans, combat boots and a sword hung at his waist. As usual his hair is a permanent mess which allows his ears to poke through. He's also a bit on the twitchy side considering the Clutching Grove is still around.
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What do you think you're doing? are the words that immediately come to mind. It's not the way he looks, per se, but something about the context of that look. Not only does every oddity look perfectly genuine and like it belongs on the man who is wearing it, but as far as she can tell this is how this person dresses when he goes to do his grocery shopping. And if a man puts on ear extensions and a sword to go buy milk, it doesn't matter that he didn't actually walk out of an urban fantasy novel that morning because in either case the world is that much crazier for having him in it.
"You can usually get a general idea of where you are by studying the people around you," Holmes explains. She doesn't waste time being startled, but she can't help cocking her head a little at this guy. Seriously, what the fuck? "But no two people around here seem to be from the same place."
That was an understatement, of course, but she was hesitant to voice her suspicions that many of them weren't even from the same time or planet. She wasn't sure yet that she had enough extraordinary evidence to be making such extraordinary claims.
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Alec would love to hear where she thinks what sort of place he's from. She'll be wrong likely, but she might get some bits right.
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When in doubt, the most important thing to look for on a person is the relative age of each article of clothing. Older shoes worn with newer clothes usually pointed to a decline in personal wealth, whereas a new coat worn over older clothes almost always meant a hurried move the previous spring or summer. In this case, the t-shirt and jeans were newer than the coat or sword in terms of how long they had been in their owner's possession as well as fashion. The sword looked like it had seen some use, judging by the signs of wear on both the scabbard and hilt.
"Fairy. Right. And I don't suppose you're of the Fae?"
She wasn't sure whether or not she believed him - or, for that matter, her own eyes. If he was telling the truth it would certainly explain his clothing, but she was leaving herself open to the idea that this was somehow an elaborate hoax.
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All his body language says perfect honesty.
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"I see," she said, her body language relaxing a little. This guy's weirdness wasn't so bad once you got used to it.
"My name's Shirley Holmes. Sorry about the interrogation, but this is all kind of unbelievable."
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"I don't mind the interrogation. It's a bit weird if you're not from a place that has things like it." He offers his hand. It's definitely calloused from sword use. "I'm Alec Troven."
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But today she chose to pause. She'd never seen the girl around here before, that was for sure. She might be new, but if so, her composure was remarkable -- unless, perhaps, she was more than she seemed.
With that thought in mind, she approached and nodded abruptly to the stranger.
"Are you traveling through?" she asked.
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She had called the lady "officer" but really Lin didn't resemble any policewoman Shirley had ever seen. She definitely was one, though. Shirley was tentatively deciding that she was maybe the chief of police in the Steampunk China version of New York City. Of course, having formulated a working theory that involved the words "Steampunk China" as the best explanation for someone standing right in front of her, Holmes was beginning to feel a little faint. Maybe she should sit down and stop observing things for a while.
"Which, um, is to say that I'm lost," she added. "Help?"
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"Welcome to Burby," she said, not unkindly. "I don't think anyone ever comes here on purpose.
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"Okay." She nodded. "And they can come from anywhere, apparently."
Anywhere. Anywhere. Even places that make no sense. It didn't seem like this should be bothering her so much, but it was.
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She wasn't usually so doom-and-gloom with newbies, but the girl could hardly handle earthbending. She wasn't going to do very well in a Faerie forest, and then there was that scary Grove lurking around the edge of the town, too. She hoped that a warning to be prudent would go a long way.
threadjack?
"Lin, don't tell me you're having a tea party without me."
yay, threadjack!
whoo!
Huzzah!
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Strike that. Jareth notices a young woman across the square eying everything with the most intense scrutiny. She's not quite as young as he might prefer (younger girls are more likely to provide amusing company), but he's in no position to be choosy.
He disappears and, almost instantaneously, reappears next to the woman. "And what, my dear, do you find so fascinating?"
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"The people," she said, doing her best to keep her eyes above his waist. If there was one thing she remembered about that movie from when she was a little girl, it was that David Bowie's crotch was practically a named character. "They're pretty diverse, don't you think?"
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It's a non-committal sound that manages to say "I am not the least bit interested in what this place has to offer" and "Oh, but do tell me more, you're rather fascinating" without a word.
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"Usually, people who live in the same town have certain things in common," she said. "Maybe something as small as how everyone wears their scarves, or a certain set of mannerisms that point to a shared frame of reference. These people are all over the place, though - most of them don't have a single thing in common."
She glanced again at her companion, suspiciously. "And then there's yourself. I think I might be hallucinating you, which calls all of my other observations so far into question."
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Jareth looks her over in kind. "You don't look like the sort of girl who might imagine me. Inquisitive little thing, though, aren't you?"