|
   |
*
A night inflaming the sorry street in Hell's Kitchen witnesses a flight to Winchester County, an unconscious man delivered into the care of a fancy mansion on a private, secluded property where a more powerful healer than any doctor awaits. Time, and rest, have excellent bedside manners.
Scarlett returns home, not to stay at the Institute but elsewhere, and she explained a simple task to her erstwhile roommate and peer in matters odd. Facts are simple. A naked man found in a burning box, the word coffin carefully avoided, while a part of town was ransacked by frightening bugs of a colossal size. A race to safety before he expired or someone noticed he was wearing nothing but her cloak.
"I should probably have the cloak returned," murmurs the taller redhead in French, casting a look towards the dead fields, the smoke rising from the house. This is a walk in the country, notably because a bus doesn't reach this far often. "I thought we might see if the poor fellow is up for a walk and some conversation. It may be he's coherent enough for it, and after yesterday's city council meeting, I need relief. Jean might be there, too, or wish a break from babysitting. I think you will like her, the third of our redhead triumvirate, if you have not met."
Memories are a tad quiet right now in her head, the distant memories and elegies of a wild hour plunging through her mind. "At any rate, if he is out of their hair, we can see what his story is."
*
The world has gone mad, and she's just trying to keep up with it. The looks out the windows here and there in order to see if any creatures from outer space are coming. The jumping at ordinary sounds of the night. It's an entirely different situation, and Marie is more grateful than ever for Scarlett having taken her in and off the streets. There's no telling /what/ would have happened to her if she'd have stayed out there through all this!
So when the taller redhead says jump, she jumps. In this chase, it means travelling out of the city. That might be for the best anyways.
"Yes, that seems as it might be wise… imagine, to have been left in a burning box like that…" Coffin would've been a bad word to use. People returning from the dead? That would scare her. Even moreso than other things have. "…the poor man. Some friendly company would be most welcome, I'm sure." she offers optimistically. "…no, I do not know this Jean you speak of… at least, I do not /think/ that I do. Names and faces do not always go together, you know? I'd be happy to meet her as well, though."
Away from the city, it's easier to be cheery, too. There's less reminders of all the crazy, and a lot more suggestion of… well, peace. Peace was a very good thing.
*
Crazy. Not exactly the best word to use perhaps.
Awakening in a strange land, with strange things all around is never a good position especially when things are… just so damn confusing.
The man had been drug back to the Mansion, put under supervision and all those other fun things. But upon his awakening he wanted out. Lost, confused, the only thing to do was to find a way out of what, to him, resembled some kind of prison. So he simply started running, lost through hallways and corridors eventually finding his way outside to the fields beyond the Mansion. It was an epic escape for the wild mind but he was free; and running towards the two women glancing behind him rapidly for threat of pursuit, unaware of his impending approach.
*
Marie-Ange draws Two Swords.
*
"Jean," says the girl wearing white flowers in her hair, "is very much one of the sweetest, fairest souls you can ever meet. Another redhead, like us, and also like us in that she is quite special. Her skills sometimes make life an especial challenge for her, but much as you have, she rises to the occasion and I cannot help but admire her and you for it. She became one of my fastest friends in the city, and it would be my pleasure to introduce you." One can hope Team Redhead hits it off properly, anyways. The blithe smile tempered by recognition not everyone gets along with everyone else fades a little in the soft, rolling hills stippled in dun and fading browns, the onset of a blanket pulled over the Northeast for winter.
"Anyhow, I know nothing about this poor fellow or his predicament, except he ended up locked up without a shred of dignity and far too much…" A pause, how does one explain this in terms Marie will understand? Scarlett contemplates for a moment. "Body adornment, we shall say. I am not sure whether it is temporary or an effect from whomever placed him in confinement, so open-mindedness is key. The poor man may be frightened out of his wits or purely lucid, seeking answers, and you may be among the calmest people I know. Any insights are welcome."
She gesture to a track cut along a fence line off the road, one of those old country roads that necessitate galoshes or boots unless one, like her, can scorn the earth. Or, you know, walk in the grass. "Truth, I feel no shame abandoning the city for a breath of fresh air and a reminder of what life here is."
Sometimes it pays to be mindful of one's landscape, admiring more than the tractor on the hill, the shorn maize, the man running pell-mell towards them like his backside is on fire and a cosmic bird is chasing him. Two blinks, then she rises two feet off the ground in a moment to gain a better vantage. No one else is around to see. "Is… Mimir's rolling eye, that is him, isn't it? Apparently he thought to come to us."
*
"She sounds like a wonderful person; you honor me with the comparison, Scarlett." ..while she may be more talkative around her friend, her self-esteem still isn't the strongest, and that's one of those things that will take time to evolve. Time… and the right environment. So far, so good.
Then there's a thoughtful look as she describes the mysterious man of mystery. A mental image forming in her head of a fellow covered head to toe in gemstones. It provides the kind of modesty that means that she's not going to be left blushing from thoughts, at least! "Perhaps the cards can give us some insight, then, once we find him. If anything can clear the fog from knowledge…" Well, asking could possibly do it, too. But that's a distant second in her bag of tricks.
"The countryside is rather lovely, I agree… there were places I visited," Read: Hitchhiked through, "that were similar. Peaceful, not complicated… just people living. It would not be a bad life, in truth… but some would find it lacks excitement, no?" She's not sure where she falls on that scale. She's seen… quite her share of excitement, afterall.
Then Scarlett's taking airborne, and Marie's attention goes first to her… then what she's looking at. No, not what, who. Immediately, she goes for her cards. The Two of Swords. "Not to us." she speaks plainly, making sure the floating one can hear. "/From/ something else."
*
The man continues his running through the strange countryside, legs getting caught up in the terrible gown they donned him with, hardly the garb needed for a dashing escape. Not to mention they will recognize him in it. After another stumble and rolling he crawls out of it and resumes his dash, cursing behind him rather loudly. "Tugon y teagu em!"
He even begins to run backwards for a moment, making gestures with his arms until he stumbles again, rolling end over end gasping for breath and laying there facing the sky above. Eyes blinking and something else is muttered in the strange dialect he is speaking.
*
The sight of Gabriel falling ass over teakettle in the field certainly does a number on his possible danger and omnipotence. Let's just slot him a few rungs down the ladder there, somewhere below Jean and above people who can conjure processed cheese or look like squirrels.
"That must sting," Scarlett comments, drifting back down to ground level. "I fear what he must be running from could be anything. Maybe no threat at all, possibly a flying space shark. They exist, by the way." How does she know these things? Some questions are not wise to ask without preparing for groundshaking revelations, like a peaceful empire of space sharks that sail between the planets and stars in toothy smile schools.
"There is something calming to the country, and reason so many people at this time of year start to daydream of the mountains and forests, a cabin and quiet snow. They cannot hear themselves think in the city, and it's worse now." That sanguine statement given, the gypsy of Asgard and Midgard's welcoming committee jumps the fence hemming in the muddy field with its shaved stubble of corn stalks. "Do you want to come, or would you prefer to wait here? I can go determine whether he likes to spontaneously break into very bad English poetry or thinks he has crash landed on a distant planet? You needn't feel shame if you would rather hold back, but perhaps he will feel less concerned by the pair of us. We're not terribly intimidating, are we?"
*
Marie-Ange draws 14 Temperance.
*
There's the resistance of the urge to giggle as he just falls over while running — she doesn't because she'd feel bad, especially if there /is/ something to run from… but then he's peeling off everything and…
…well. He's certainly a man. So /that's/ what that looks like.
After a moment of initial stunned shock, Marie's skin reddens. And reddens. And continues to do so, especially as Scarlett speaks and makes the suggestion to go further towards the man who's running from a flying space shark. …what's a flying space shark? Her imagination struggles to put a picture to /that/ image.
..it's only a brief respite from what she can still see, though. "I…" she trails off for a moment, then turns to the cards. Surely, they'll say to stay back and preserve her dignity.
…then Temperance shows up. Again. If it's possible to go redder? She does.
"I… will go." she forces herself to say, not as determined as she wanted it to sound, but she adds, "It is what I must do." With that? She tries to clamber over the fence — nearly falls on her face as well, but lands on her feet in the end. Thank those years of dancing for that balance! …and she's going to try very hard not to look at… things… as she approaches. Gee, isn't this corn interesting?
*
The Flying Space Shark: put a great white in space. Easy!
*
Crawling and stumbling around, the sounds of approach from around him draws the man's eyes looking back and forth trying to find the source. Then he sees it. Two figures approaching which causes him to begin to run; but there is a pause. His eyes narrow some and he begins walking then directly towards them and speaking as he does so. "Keeo dahed jo? Ke da Ko hegkil?" His hand lifts to point right at Scarlett, "Ko hi jo. Ko dakil kilbe jo!" After the hand pointing the stride begins with his furrowed brow.
If he is aware he is indecent it doesn't show, nor does he seemed to be concerned. Rather he's walking towards the pair of women with a rather determined expression on his face.
*
The thrilling adventures in a corn field surely cause no reason for a blush among the French-speaking women. A slip in the mud, a scurry over the flattened leaves, they are the things a young woman dreams about when she is only a girl and considering her future. Right?
When Marie slips, Scarlett reaches out in preparation to steady her, or at least starts. She curbs the effort when the other redhead stabilizes, and dignity may be found in turning a blind eye to the wobble. "The sooner we find out if this is a case of madness or confusion, the better. One cannot roam around this part of the country naked without ending up stirring quite a few feathers. They aren't so open-minded as some."
Pronouncement given, the bohemian trudges too lightly over the field to be wholly fair, waiting up for her companion, but also on a direct line to intercept Gabriel. When he comes up to her, shouting in foreign tongues, her blithe expression alters to one of thought. "By the time… Is that Japanese? Forgive me, I don't speak it. Though dakil? It sounds Hindi, maybe." Her native English asserts itself over the French of the prior conversation, and she repeats back to him, "«Ko hi jo?»"
Universal translator… Fail. Her envy of the spell she needs to trigger All-Speak will be noted. Until then, the girl rests her hand upon her waist and holds out the other. Gesturing to herself, she says, "Scarlett." Next, she points to the man and waits for him to say something.
No one wants the alternative. They really don't. Grabby hands on bewildered man will help the situation and it absolutely won't.
*
Marie-Ange draws Three Wands.
*
Lucky for Marie, she wasn't raised in the country; so the fine arts of what goes on between young people in muddy cornfields is entirely lost on her, and therefore the situation is a little bit easier to handle.
..and he's approaching them again. And talking. Talking something she doesn't understand at all. It's not English, it's not French… Scarlett is heard trying to make contact, and Marie draws again. The Three of Wands tells her that challenges are ahead, but to embrace changes… and while she would like to just take off running? That's not what the cards say.
Instead? She points at her friend, "Scarlett," then to herself, "Marie," then to the man — well, his general direction, because she's not looking directly /at/ him at the moment. Trying to reaffirm the taller woman's message in hopes that it'll break the language barrier.
*
His head cants to the side as he listens to them speak. The words causing his eyes to glaze over as if looking past and through them then he grasps the side of his head and howls out in pain, dropping to a knee. It hurts truly to have one's brain shift a bit to fit the language that it is absorbing. Fortunately, this is a language he was taught. How was what he was trying to remember and it simply brought him to his knees.
Staying there for long moments, letting the spinning of the world and the pain that causes his jaw to ache and ears to ring recede the man focuses on gaining his breath. Long moments pass before finally he whispers. "Gabriel."
*
The sound of pain erupting from the man is enough to hasten Scarlett crossing the mental bridge, her body stiffening at the inhuman suffering poured out sonically to an uncaring grey sky. Hands skim up to her upper arms and clench around them, holding tight to brace herself. Maybe it smothers the temptation of calling on a power that drips so smooth and sweet through her veins, begging to be used, beckoning for the thrill of release and malevolent relief.
"Gabriel," she replies, daring to fill the silence in the space between his reeling and possibly Marie's reaction. Her shoulders in a line, back poised, every line of her body speaks to readiness. A yoga master's control of breath, a martial artist's balance, these apply. "Are you okay?"
Clearly he's not, but one begins with the damn niceties, thank you.
*
Pain is a motivator, that's one of the truest facts of life. That includes motivating people to push past their own concerns and look out for others, but Marie's just a bit slow on the draw this time around as Scarlett beats her to the punch of asking if he's okay.
Her mouth hangs open for a moment, her skin already starting to lose the color it had gained from his… state. Then she adds her own bit of kindness. "Is there anything we can do to help?" The words are spoken slowly, in English. To make sure — if he understands the language — he understands her, accent and all.
*
Accents. They really do give a lot away about a person. Gabriel's is extremely odd. It almost sounds like a bizarre love child of many different countries blended together. It isn't just one accent but many rolled into one. "Where am I?"
The consummate question that leads all others. He has not moved from his spot on the ground, kneeling and looking at it, fighting off the waves of pain that crush down around his mind. There is nothing these women can do for the pain as far as he knows, but they may provide information. "What is this place? Why am I here?"
*
"New York State. November the Eleventh, Veterans Day or Remembrance Day or Armistice Day," supplies the taller redhead, "in the year 1963. The United States." Facts are inserted here and there, in case one happens to be a confounded cosmonaut or, worse, that chap she's met who came from another dimension. Her ability to succor pain should not be underestimated, though it is not a relevant or practical application now. "I found you buried in the city. I brought you out. Do you remember me? Or the other woman who sat on you?"
Nope, Jean is not living that down. Not ever.
A glance passed to Marie gives the slim crescent of a smile, a wordless show of gratitude for the additional support and inquiry provided by the Frenchwoman. It's the effect of a squeeze of the hand, a whisper of thanks, a hug, as the situation serves. "We are not here to hurt you. Were you attacked?"
*
Marie planned to let Scarlett do all the talking as far as where they were. For one thing? She wouldn't know nearly as many details as her friend would about the area, or even the country. Still, it's good to see that the man can communicate… although when she lets her guard down and ends up red again from seeing too much, she rather wishes that they'd brought something for him to—
Oh, that's right! "…would you like me to get your gown, Monsieur Gabriel? You seem to have… dropped it back there." The words are a little tough to force out through the blushing, eye contact is… actually not that hard if she can keep her eyes /there./
*
Why would it be hard to look at his eyes, it isn't like he's stark naked with tribal tattoos over his arms, back, chest… even a couple on his legs. Scars criss cross the exposed back, the sort seen from corporal punishment being issued via whips. The man kneeling there before the women has some history it would appear. But what that history is brings a frown to his face and again a grimace as he clutches a hand to his head. "I do not know any of that. I do not know any of this. What is this place? Why am I here? Who am I?" His blue eyes look between the two women now, a cross between pleading and anger beginning to etch its way over his features.
*
Marie-Ange draws Ace Wands.
*
Scarlett nods to Marie, murmuring, "Very good idea. The weather is chilly and I cannot imagine how anyone is comfortable in it without clothes." She then sinks down to one knee, meeting Gabriel eye to eye, her expression open and bearing without any inclination towards fear or excitement. The contour of her lips remains soft, her eyes too bright to be natural. "One thing at a time, Mr. Gabriel. You have taken a shock, I will assume. Let's begin small."
She touches the ground. "You were found in a bad state. I do not know how you ended up in New York. But we can find answers if you allow us some time. You are in no danger here. You said your name is Gabriel. Do you remember anything else?"
*
There's another check of the cards, to try and get some additional information. The Ace of Wands, like all Aces, is a good omen… but also like all Aces, is a seed of many things to come. He may not know much beyond his name, Marie decides. Scarlett gets an obedient nod, and Marie moves to walk around Gabriel — keeping some distance so that he can't reach out and grab her without a proper lunge, and walking slow so that she doesn't appear a threat. Assuming nothing stops her, she's going to get that gown for the man. "From what I can see, Monsieur… you are in a better place now than wherever you came from, before." she adds, once she's back in earshot. "…but perhaps someone more familiar with your, ah, markings, would best be able to provide insight." Pause. "When you saw us first, you said…" She slows her words even further, now, trying to match the words perfectly. "'Tugon y teagu em'?" It's not perfect, but she tries with that accent. "…do you know what it means, or what language it comes from?" …it's worth a shot!
*
"No." Gabriel's response is given first to Scarlett, but then his eyes drift to Marie and he shakes his head, affirming the no there as well. "I do not know… I do not even know what I am speaking to you now. I remember.." A grimace, trying to remember bringing him pain. "I remember nothing." He wants to panic, he should panic, being unable to recall memories a frustrating endeavor. It causes him to rub at his head again. "Trying hurts."
*
"Then stop doing what hurts. Hurt is the way of telling you you move too fast." Pragmatic advice comes down with a fair bit of calm. "Let's get you dressed and fed. Who knows how long since you had a proper meal? I am fairly sure that Marie is hungry too." A guess. Marie is always hungry, and Scarlett eats like a bird, save when her appetite demands she destroy a kitchen. Her melody is smoother and softer, anyways, entrenched in her default mode: welcoming party. Really, she's fairly good at this.
"Let's pop the robe on and take a walk." That, and giving time for answers, might help. "The nearest cafe is about a mile off, easy to walk to."
*
The robe is extended in Gabriel's direction by Marie, the eye most likely to take in sights she doesn't want to see kept shut while the other looks /only/ enough to hold it out in the right direction. She'll definitely feel better when he's dressed, there was no doubt about that.
The note that trying to remember hurts, though, brings a bit of a frown to her lips. Poor guy. Marie's about to open her mouth again when Scarlett thinks of an even better suggestion, and the tiny redhead nods. "Oui, I would certainly not object to eating, and Scarlett knows many good places." …it will, however, very likely make her considerably quieter with her mouth occupied by food. Even as much as she's eaten around Scarlett? Her weight gain has been slow; the girl's metabolism is pretty efficient, and making up for lost time, it seems.
*
Accepting the gown from Marie, Gabriel looks at it skeptically before going about the process of trying to put it on, which in itself takes him some time. It's a medical gown. Which side is the open side, the front or the back? He certainly tries several ways before shaking his head. "I do not understand this." He motions to the gown, confusion growing. "I do not understand all the things you speak either. There are.. words which I do not know the meaning of."
*
A dressed man in a medical gown. This is not going to go over as well as one can hope. Scarlett bites her lip and stifles a sudden chuckle, especially with the revelations crashing in. "At this point I need to pop into town and find a pair of pants. You cannot keep wearing my coats, given our size difference. Perhaps you will need to sit outside and wait until I bring back food, or have Marie fetch it." Her measure of the situation is calm, if nothing else. At least the robe is cotton, and not paper, for paper is something of a futuristic requirement. "A sandwich will help. What are the words you do not know? Sandwich?"
*
"I know how it is not to understand words, Monsieur." Marie admits, smiling empathetically towards Gabriel — she's not exactly an expert at hospital gowns either, and asking her to choose which side is left open… well, she's going to let Scarlett handle /that/ decision, when it sounds like there's more important work for her to do anyways! "I can get it, oui." is offered to Scarlett, along with an obedient nod. If Gabriel understands some English but not all… the one who speaks it best is the best choice to do the speaking, in her mind. "I will go now, then."
*
"I do not know what this sandwich is." He explains looking between the women and lifting the robe, "Nor do I understand the purpose of this garment." He waves it up and down, showing how pointless it is at concealing anything. The man's eyes look around him and back the way he came, then to the women and his shoulders lift in a shrug, "I will see what your path brings, but be warned I will not be fooled." Well, yeah he probably would be fooled. He has no idea what's going on.