[ Action, Video, and Voice! ] Good Golly, Miss Molly .001

[talentsgirl]

[Molly woke up on her side, in pain, and cold.

That's strange. I wasn't asleep a moment ago. Was I?

Also, her brain felt fuzzy. That wouldn't do. Deep breaths, Molly, and she remained still and safe for a moment - movement was a tell, and until she had her focus back she wasn't going to do anything until she was sure she could hide. Then slowly, Molly sat up.]

Woah.

[She was on top of a tree house. In what looked like a tree village, no less. And where the heck were her clothes?]

Let me guess. I'm not in Kansas anymore.

[Molly twisted around to try to see the source of pain on her back, only for bright pink to meet her eye - a single pink wing! With a blue one to match. Oh. Hahahahahaha, this must be a dream. She gave a light tug on one of her wings and the dull pain turned into a shooting one which made her grit her teeth against the sudden flare behind her eyes. OK, girl. The wings stay on. And if this was an illusion, it was a hell of one to sustain that much pain. She glanced around, found, and opened the journal.

Huh.]

...a magic book with my name on it. That's not at all suspicious. Well, I guess I'm already through the looking glass...

Hello, in the book! I'm looking for a white rabbit, he was supposed to give me the time. Or maybe the place? Either way, I'm late for an important date.

[No time to say hello, goodbye... either way, she couldn't sit around waiting for the magic book to talk back. Magic didn't work that way. And it was still here, she could feel it humming but... faint. And very much like it was through a looking glass. Strange.

Either way, she wasn't one to just sit around in a tower - or a treehouse - and wait to be rescued. She held the book carefully opened by inserting one finger in it and closing the book around it in case of a response, not knowing that flashes of video could escape through it as well, and began to make her way down as best as she could in a dress entirely too short for her long legs and thin enough to hint at just how low the thorn tattoo starting high at her neckline curved down. Time to wander the forest in hope of... something. Some kind of clue or direction.]

[Part the Second: Or if you'd rather not rescue/inform a New Feather]

[Clothed in jeans a light jacket, and boots, one tall young lady is poking about all the shops in the square. Maybe you'll run into her there?]

Comments

[talentsgirl]

"Right." She didn't sip her tea. This was getting depressing, it was time to switch the topic. She could look over the rest of the guide later, and had plenty of time to make mushrooms if the situation called for it. Right now she had company, and he was as new as she was, and she wouldn't be responsible for dragging him down.

Molly flicked her gaze around the bar. "I wonder how long some of these people have been here."

...on the plus side, it's a natural enough topic switch to be believable.

[greenjacketed]

Natural enough indeed. Sharpe hardly noticed; instead, he nodded along.

"A man what I spoke to last night in this very pub said he'd been here for two years."

[talentsgirl]

"...that seems like a very long time."

At some point, Molly really should remember that they came here so she could have tea. Hers is getting cold.

[greenjacketed]

"Off'n'on, though. He said he'd been home and come back."

[talentsgirl]

"I thought I read something about that..." She looked down, her brow furrowing in thought. What is this place?

[greenjacketed]

"...What else does it say in there, lass?"

[talentsgirl]

"A lot. It's long, and I haven't had a chance to really study it..." but, obligingly, she shoved the journal between herself and Sharpe, still ignoring her poor tea.

"There are experiments, and a war, and drafts... and all kinds of groups and-" she flicked a quick glance up to his face, "spirits. Magic, they say."

[greenjacketed]

His gaze dropped -- but not to the words. He stared at her neglected tea, instead.

In a very quiet voice -- a rasped whisper: "Could you read the bit about the drafts, Molly? Aloud, like?"

[talentsgirl]

She blinked down at the book, but responded without hesitation, "Sure." The request was unexpected, but... Molly was used to reading aloud so that someone else could concentrate on what she was saying. She had a good reading voice, clear and emotive, but soft when she was herself engaging in the work. It made sense to her that he'd ask her to read so that they both could concentrate on what was going on without pouring over the same book. She didn't even consider any alternative reasons.

And that's why, instead of tugging the journal towards her, Molly leaned down a little, bracing her weight on her forearm that she placed just above the book. "SECTION VIII: The Third Party and The War


The Third Party

The Third Party is a group outside of the barrier that we know little about, and only learned about them in the second year of our cycle." She paused for a moment - the second year of our cycle. What cycle? Luceti? Probably...

"What we do know is that they oppose the Malnosso, in what can best be described as a "clash of ideals." The Malnosso's apparent goals are an attempt to return those who were brought to this world "home" (and we are the ones chosen of the world's population to subject," she paused again and reread, "to be subject to the experiments against our will), while the Third Party's apparent goal is to end the cycle of life and death in Luceti" her throat tightened a little at that, "by permanently killing those brought here as a form of mercy in a ritual sacrifice. We have encountered them in person during a battle which took place in August of the 2nd year of our current cycle..."

[greenjacketed]

Sharpe propped his elbows on the table's surface. It was a difficult favour to ask; he didn't like putting himself at such a clear disadvantage. Last night, Captain Sparrow had put the book before him and bid him to read what he could only stumble clumsily through and even then he would have preferred the chance to read aloud. But he didn't dare try it on his first night.

Now? Now he had to take a chance on someone. Molly, at least, didn't seem too fussed with the request. So he steepled his fingers against the bridge of his nose and listened.

As Molly continued to read, he finally registered her abandoned tea and so waited for the next best opportunity to interrupt her. A quiet little clearing of his throat.

"Care for a fresh'un, lass?" He asked gently. "This one's gone cold."

Sharpe touched her mug's handle with powder-burnt fingers.

[talentsgirl]

Residents may find themselves pulled into the battle even when they have no desire to be there, and noncombatants will find themselves there as well. Arguing is futile in these cases.

We are now able to use the magic we acquired in here on the battlefields as well... The magic is stronger outside of the barrier.

She glanced up, having paused for thought on those two interesting facts, although one was far more terrifying than the other. She wasn't a combat wizard. Harry had driven that point home. Her sensitivity to death and strong emotions meant that if she went out there... and if she fought... Oh, that wouldn't be good at all. She'd been willing to risk it for Harry and his daughter, but...

But there are children here all the same.

--oh, he'd said something. "Hmm - oh, right." She moved to claim the mug, not by the handle, but by it's opposite side, and lifted it up to take a sip and test it out. Tepid. And bitter from being over-seeped. Bleck. "Yes, that would be great. Sorry."

[greenjacketed]

"Nah, Molly. I'm the one who had you reading. Distracted, like."

A watered-down almost-smile. It was as he had feared. Conscription and crimpingand hadn't he fought most of his life against this sort of thing? Sure -- at first he fought only for his shilling or for his life. And then he fought for his king. But things had changed. Things had become ideological; not that Sharpe knew the word.

But there were practices that were good and moral and right in the world and he did want to uphold them. He fought within a crooked system to do that but he often found that if you fought enough and won enough medals and took enough enemy standards, people started to listen to you. No matter how ragged your accent.

He reached for her mug -- willing to take it from her hands.

[talentsgirl]

She extended the to meet his hands, willing to pass it off. She felt guilty that he was doing this for her, but not guilty enough to stand on her throbbing feet.

"I don't mind," she said, belatedly quasi-realizing that maybe this meant he hadn't read the guide either, and she wondered why that was. "It's easier to process things when you read them out loud. And this way I have someone I can talk to about it."

[greenjacketed]

He tucked it against his palm and pushed his chair back.

"I'm much obliged to you for it," Sharpe confessed. And it didn't hurt that he thought she had the reading voice of an angel. Most likely. Should angels ever be readers.

[talentsgirl]

She grined a little ruefully. "Tell you what - see if they have a biscuit or a muffin or something to go with the tea back there, and we'll call it even."

[greenjacketed]

"Aye, milady."

He wasn't sure what a pub could offer by way of sweets but he would pursue his mission most valiantly. But not before giving the woman a stiff, mock-formal bow.

*grinned, /sob

[talentsgirl]

Pfff. That was all she had to say to that. In fact: "Pfffff," and she gave a light laugh. "It's-" how does one properly hoity-toity?- "greatly appreciated."

IT'S COOL.

[greenjacketed]

He strode off -- beaming. Little managed to cheer the man more than a saucy exchange with a woman who could hold her own in a conversation. And hold her own in a fun way. Not with Latin jokes or references to the London social season.

Just for that, he would fight extra hard to win her a treat. This might have involved making fumbling requests and earnest supplications to the woman behind the bar who eventually -- very charitably, she made sure to tell him -- parted with her lunch's dessert: a blueberry muffin.

[talentsgirl]

Molly had no idea she was requesting something difficult - she'd just wanted something to go with her tea. She'd feel bad for steeling the poor bartender's dessert, had she known, and would have likely told Sharpe to forget about if she'd known that they weren't available. She will probably find out about it at some later point, look back, and wonder. But in the meantime, she just tugs the journal over a little bit to study that part about the spirits a little bit more, the smile she had on her face from her exchange with Sharpe fading as she did.

...well, why wouldn't this place have spirits or magic of its own? Maybe that was why her own felt so... muted. Although the guide had said that was related to the barrier, so why... and again, she's a bit too engrossed in her thought process to notice his approach.

[greenjacketed]

He nudged the plated sweet and the fresh tea by her right arm before retaking his chair with slight groan -- he sat too quickly, caught his blasted wings on the back -- but he soon covered it up with a clearing of his throat.

He said no words. Simply waited for her approval or dismissal.

[talentsgirl]

Molly started at the clink of the plate on the table - way to go, girl - and glanced up. "Oh."

Oh good. Food and tea. Smiling, she set the book aside and picked up the muffin to rip it in half with long, deft fingers. "I think this will do very nicely, Mr. Sharpe."

Still playing the hoity-toity game, the sly tilt of her lips is belayed by the warmth in her eyes as she casts a quick glance in his direction, and by the genuineness of her tone when she says, "Thank you."

For the distraction from the book, for the company, for the food - thank you.

[greenjacketed]

"The mistress behind the bar said it was from the bakery. Said it would be...well, Molly? The word she used was scrumptious."

[talentsgirl]

...that's quite a smile you have there, Mr. Sharpe.

Molly quickly looked back down at her muffin, wary of the temptation to look him in the eyes. She tore half of the muffin in her hand into quarters, set down one half, and then tore the quarter into eighths. "It certainly looks good."

Probably made with white flour. Oh well.

Feeling abruptly self-conscious, she paused just as she was about to pop that eighth of a muffin into her mouth. "Don't you want anything?"

yeah that's the secret weapon icon i guess.

[greenjacketed]

He watched her dainty -- or what he considered dainty -- ministrations with mild interest. Not...overbearing interest. It was all very...casual.

"No, lass. I ate before you I went out to the woods. The tea'll do me fine." And he nearly downed the strong, bitter remains of his mug.

LOL - it may be, at that

[talentsgirl]

Right, then. She'll just pop that bit of muffin in her mouth while he's drinking, because it's less odd that way, and reach for the milk he'd brought to the table earlier in order to pour some in her tea.

...wow, that little bit of muffin really woke up her appetite. Her movements quicken a bit so that she can take the teabag out of the tea and have a sip before going back for the previously abandoned eighth. "Mmm. It's very good."

Vaguely, Molly hoped she hadn't just pulled a Persephone.