[ Action, Voice ] Onions have layers, ogres have layers .002

[talentsgirl]

[Today Molly Carpenter is in your community buildings, exploring the floors and kitchens and opening (hopefully unoccupied!) random doors. Why is she doing this? She's not quite settled that Community Building Six is the best place for her and Harry to be, so far away from town, and collect evidence to present her case. Also - hey, strolling down someone's apartment corridor could be a great way to meet people!

And secretly, she's looking for thresholds. It makes sense that there aren't any here - five years, at most, being kept in a place against your will - could that even form a threshold? She didn't know, but it was so terribly contrary to her understanding of magic that she had to investigate.

Later in the day, a series of filters starting at 5 and not working their way up past 15 percent will appear in the journal followed by a voice post.]


[Filter at 5 percent]
Testing, testing... so you actually can do this.
[Filter at 10 5 percent]
Testing... drat.
[Filter at 10 7 percent]
Test, test - man, I thought for sure that would work
[Filter at 15 percent]
Ah-ha! Think I'm getting it now...
[Filter at 20 15 percent]
Test... nope.
[Filter at 20 15 percent]
Maybe this will--
[Filter at 20 15 percent]
Oh, come on!


Hi! So. Sorry if anyone bothered with that. I'm trying to get the hang of this "filtering" thing but it's just not like anything I've ever done before. If a couple wouldn't mind putting up some really low, easy filters in this post against me, I'd really appreciate it. That way I could try to sort of... learn it backwards? Thanks.

Comments

/yeah yeah prose

[greenjacketed]

And so -- in ten minutes sharp -- Richard stood outside the doors to Good Spirits. A soldier learned to be timely and exact in his schedule and while the Major had never owned a watch, he had never truly felt the need of one. The sun served as well as a clock-face and his body had a good sense for the passing hours.

It should be noted that he looked very smart indeed, despite his still-absent green jacket. His trousers were brushed down and his shirt was creamy white and clean. Somehow, the man had re-learned how to shave without Harper there to help him.

and now everything matches aka: in which I get derailed forever looking for Molly's outfit

[talentsgirl]

A proper shave was certainly a key part of a gentleman's wardrobe, and Molly does not fail to notice that he is looking very sharp indeed. She, on the other hand, is wearing distressed jeans, boots, a belted green tunic and light jacket. Three buttons on the top of the tunic were undone, revealing the white wife-beater beneath that managed to hide most of the tattoo which started up above the neckline.

She smiles when she sees him. "You beat me!"

[greenjacketed]

"First thing a private learns in training, Molly? Don't you dare ever be late. They'll have your hide, they will." A lop-sided smile. He couldn't help but adore her choice of colour palette and has never failed to admire a woman in trousers. Yet again, he thought of Teresa.

His gaze touched and lingered only briefly on the visible lick of ink before he turned abruptly and opened the door for her.

[talentsgirl]

It wasn't very often Molly felt self-conscious about her choice of clothes or any of her tattoos - and in fact, self-conscious wasn't what she was feeling right now. She was who she was. But right now she was out of time, place, and even space, and she wondered what of herself she was communicating to others of a different world or era with her choices.

"Thank you," she said, and moved to enter the Good Spirits, which was, she thought, a horrible pun. "How have you been?"

[greenjacketed]

"As well as any soul could expect to be in a situation like this one. You, lass?"

He tapped the side of his thumb against his thigh. He wanted to tell her about his mate Dresden and learning that she and he were from the same Chicago. Anxious, indeed, for this conversation. But he allowed it to rest as they approached the counter.

[talentsgirl]

Not to fear, Sharpe. Molly's got no reason to keep it a secret, and Harry being here is really the best thing ever.

"Good! Better than I thought I would when I last saw you," she confides as they approached the bar. "My boss from home is here."

[greenjacketed]

"Aye," he responded with a sly glance over his shoulder. "And he tells me you make a fine mug of coffee. Though why anyone'd want to drink that stuff is beyond my reckoning."

[talentsgirl]

She gasped softly and craned her head to catch the expression on his face, "You know Harry?"

Way to go, boss! Who knew you were that sociable.

...and then a mental record scratch occurred. When had this happened? And why was Harry talking up her coffee?

[greenjacketed]

"Met'im on my first night here, lass. Didn't realize the pair of you knew each other until that blasted affair for all us new recruits."

[talentsgirl]

"Oh." Clearly, she and Harry were going to need to compare notes, not just on the random X-Men and Jedi that they met, but on the other people as well.

...wait a minute. "You were at that party?" Mild accusation. "I didn't see you there."

Dodging out on her, were you, Major Sharpe? As evidenced, of course, by the fact that she is now able to take a seat next to you on the bar with ease.

[greenjacketed]

"Oh, don't take it personally. I'm not a man for formal gatherings."

He tucked his sword away against his leg to avoid it tangling with the stool-legs, climbing up as well.

[talentsgirl]

But it was also disturbing to her that she didn't see him there. You'd think one of the few people she knows here would stand out - where was her head? She spoke simply.

"If I'd seen you, I would have said 'hi.'" And then she shrugged slightly, "I guess we missed each other."

[greenjacketed]

A twinge of guilt boiled in his belly. Aye, he had seen the woman across the room but hadn't been sure how to approach her for a second meeting. The men had been much easier when it came to striking up conversation.

"Honest to goodness," he insisted. "I didn't stay long."

Of course, there was a warmth to be found in the slight indication that missing him had bothered her. He selfishly held onto that. "Next time, eh?"

[talentsgirl]

"If we're here long enough for another party?" The more neutral look slid off her face as she tilted her head to give him a sidelong glance. "You'd better believe it."

Clearly, Molly was deeply offended by this oversight. It was indicated in the way the corners of her lips were quirking up.

[greenjacketed]

"A bottle of arack, if you have it," he asked of the bartender before the bewildered stranger sent themselves off to peer at scrawled labels and stamps on boxes. Sharpe glanced back at Molly.

"A'course, don't even have my proper uniform. Let alone a dress uniform."

He had felt rather naked without his shinier buttons on. Not that he preferred the official dress uniform. God, no. But there was propriety and it had to be maintained.

[talentsgirl]

She glanced down his outfit, taking in again the neatly brushed-down trousers and the clean, nearly pressed white shirt. "That must be strange - to be out of uniform."

Her gaze takes on a shade of concern as she briefly lifted her eyes to his. "Do you think it would be better or worse to have it without your-" what was the word? "regiment?"

Was that the word?

[greenjacketed]

"The green jacket is a matter of pride, Molly. My regiment wears British red with yellow facings. South Essex. But us riflemen what are left, attached to the regiment? We're allowed to keep our green."

So no, he didn't need his regiment to wear his uniform. In fact, his uniform often confused those who were expecting South Essex colours on a South Essex officer.

[talentsgirl]

Oh, so. It was personal. She wouldn't ask, then, what she was thinking of - the what ifs. What if his uniform meant something different to someone of a different world? A parallel world? What if it identified him as the opposite of what it was that he was, like with evil!Riker? What if wearing an army uniform just caused problems for him here?

Her left hand momentarily traced a brown whirl on the tattoo on her right hand.

He wouldn't mind. It was personal.

"I've never heard of a green jacket for a British uniform. I always thought they wore red." She bit her lip for a moment before remembering a name, "I think the revolutionaries called them 'lobsterbacks.'"

She considers, a moment later, that sharing this nickname may have been impertinent. Oh well.

[greenjacketed]

Not so impertinent. Not so impertinent at all. "The French call us Grasshoppers. Because of the green, I reckon. Or because we're too bloody fast for them. Us rifles have always worn green."

He shifted to face her and prepared to speak more than he usually did. "We're skirmishers. We don't advance in rank and file, y'see? Fight in pairs -- go in ahead of the British lines and pick off as many froggy officers as you can. Light companies, we're called."

It was a bit like a modern sniper, perhaps. "Green on green is a tougher target to hit than red on green." For, unlike the men in the musket ranks, the rifles weren't meant to be cannon fodder.

[talentsgirl]

Molly nodded, "Oh, I see."

And she did. So she was talking with a front-runner, who engaged the battle before the rest of the army, whose job called for independent decisions. No wonder she felt so comfortable.

"I always thought bright colors for an army uniform were ridiculous." Red. Blue. It might as well have been neon saying 'Shoot me!' "I'm glad that they gave you something with at least some camouflage, if you were meant to be front-runners."

[greenjacketed]

A shake of his head. Privates, he knew, were there to be shot. It was a gruesome affair but that was how wars were won. Men standing their ground and waiting out the bullets and the grazing cannonball.

"Apologies. I shouldn't be talking warfare, anyway."

[talentsgirl]

"What should you be talking about?"

She wasn't aware that there were limits on conversation, but if there were, it was probably something to laugh over. And she was more than willing to do that.

[greenjacketed]

"I imagine your work's less bloody...?"

[talentsgirl]

"Oh God, I hope so," she said, surprisingly fervently and equally impulsively. They were heading in to a battle, as soon as she returned, and the horrors Molly had seen were... significant, but she knew that they didn't compare to what she was about to experience. At least, not the ones she could remember. And Molly insanely, fervently hoped that she would come back with everyone that she went out with on that field.

...but then, saying anything like that would be near to Explaining and... she's not sure she's ready to do that yet. And that's why, not one heartbeat later, she turned to Sharpe, injected a slight impishness that she didn't feel into her tone, and asked, "Why? What did Harry tell you about our work?"

[greenjacketed]

"Detectives. He said the pair of you were detectives."

There was a twinge of...not quite disbelief, but at least uncertainty. Detectives made him thing of intelligence officers.