A Crossroads Between Realities

More people than would be normal on the Surface, certainly, but then recklessness is to be expected of immortals.

From:

Alice: That's fair enough. If I knew I wasn't going to die permanently, I'd probably be a little reckless too.

Victor: They're hardly a "little" reckless down there. . .how are the potatoes, by the way? [he helped make them, so he's hoping they were good]

From:

They are very good. Thank you for your contribution.

From:

Victor: [smiles] I'm glad you're enjoying them. I've never actually roasted potatoes before.

Doc: [pats him on the back] See, I told you cooking's not that hard. I've been keeping myself fed for years now, after all.

Victor: I know, but when you grow up with a mother who is adamant that cooking is a "servant's job. . ."

From:

Someone needs to remind your mother that the rich can become poor. She may not have servants forever. *He licks the plate clean and sets it aside.* When the poor have nothing else to eat, and all that.

Your efforts in feeding me may be futile, but they are hardly wasted. I shall not forget.

From:

Victor: [rubs the back of his head] I would, but -- well, my biological father runs the most successful fish cannery in England in my native time period. I don't think they're likely to see poverty unless all the fish in the Atlantic suddenly went extinct. [sighs] My biological mother actually grew up poor -- you'd think she'd be more sympathetic to their plight.

Alice: [rubs his back] From what you've said, she's always had a swelled head full of her own self-importance. Some people just don't think that much of others.

Victor: Mmm. . . [offers up a smile to Mr. Eaten] We're glad to do what we can.

Doc: [small chuckle] Besides, if nothing else, we've got an interesting story to share now.

From:

I suppose there's no chance of a glorious revolution? Or indeed of your London falling down into the dark? Not much use, a cannery, when none of the things that swim are even fish--well, aside from the bound-sharks. Good luck eating them, though, with all the iron on them.

Not a zee-ztory or a memory of distant shores. An appalling secret, perhaps? A tale of terror? Perhaps even a searing enigma or a dread surmise . . . but whatever it is, I can't deny that it's interesting.

I have a moment of feasting to recall, so it's more than worth the time for me. It will not stand up to the hunger for long, but every once in a while I will take it out and look at it in my mind, and every time I will have hope that the hunger may someday end.

From:

Victor: Er -- probably not? William's pretty fair to his workers, and he and Nell don't live in London -- I'm from a tiny village called Burtonsville. How he got the cannery to be so successful in the middle of nowhere I've never understood. . .but I've never had much of a head for business, admittedly. [grimaces] And, well. . .I never got along much with them, but I don't know if I'd want them to fall into the Neath. I don't think they'd adapt well, and not just because of the lack of fish.

Marty: [raises an eyebrow] I dunno. . .you're kind of creepy -- no offense -- but I don't think talking to you and watching you eat potatoes is really a "tale of terror." Though the stuff you've been telling us about parts of the Neath might count. . .

Doc: Mmm -- if we told, we'd be passing on tales of terror second-hand, in the great campfire tradition.

Alice: [nods] It's the little things that keep us going. When I was fighting through Wonderland, every so often I'd see something genuinely beautiful, or meet someone on my side instead of the Queen's, and those moments got me through some of my tougher battles. Reminded me there was something worth fighting for.

From:

That's only because we're not in the Neath, lad. It's been a thousand years since anything I did could reasonably be described otherwise. Since tales of terror aren't currency outside of the Neath, and it will be one if you ever visit, it does count. Assuming it's not something stronger, of course.

You really must come visit, then. *A moment of thought.* I can give you a brief description of most of the islands if you like? From question-obsessed Wither all the way to Kingeater's Castle, where fools give up their futures.

From:

save_us_alice

Marty: [picturing people freaking out over a story of conversation and roast potatoes] Well, you know where you live better than I do, so I'll take your word for it. I think being around the Nexus so long has kinda broken my "weird" and "scary" meters.

Doc: Mmmm -- in a realm of this much variety, everything is mundane to someone.

Alice: [slightly amused] You're rather eager to get at least me to see the place, aren't you? Is it all the Wonderland talk, making you think I'd be a decent fit? [rocks a bit on her heels] Wither sounds interesting -- I'm used to people peppering me with questions. Particularly after so much time here. . . Don't think I'd want to visit the Castle, though -- especially not to give up my future to it. [presses up a little closer against Victor] I've made a pretty good one.

From:

Not the most terrifying ever, but hardly calming. I'm the sort of monster that other monsters fear, after all.

A reminder that this truly happened would also be nice. A friendly visitor. Perhaps even a door back and forth, so I can think clearly when needed. *He makes another pathetic attempt to pet his cat. It hisses madly and clings to his arm with its claws, which is as close to a win as he's likely to get out of it any time soon.* I like living in the Neath well enough, but gibbering about Veils and the Second City and obsidian knives is such an ineffective method of communication.

From:

Marty: [thinking about it a little more] Yeah. . .yeah, I guess it WOULD be pretty freaky to hear somebody else say they met someone like you, and just had a conversation over potatoes. You'd always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Alice: If you're lucky, the well might serve as a way back and forth now. I mean, given what you'd implied, it would only work for you, but at least you could get back here.

Victor: [frowning around the area] But we couldn't get there. Not without -- b-bad things happening. [and no, he's not particularly interested in the details of what those bad things might be] Surely there must be a regular door. . .Doc?

Doc: I'm not sure. I don't know how many connections to the Nexus any one universe is allowed. . .

Dee: [waves a hand] Maybe I can try and track one down! I can feel everybody's different timelines, after all! I just gotta find one that matches him!

From:

Precisely. No one wants to be around somebody so obviously about to get stepped on.

I do hope so. If we find a door then I’ll check immediately, otherwise I should probably wait as long as I can. A moment of reprieve, when stolen away again, can be so much more painful than none at all. Best not to flirt with such pain, don’t you think?

*Dee’s offer would make him smile if only he could. As it is something stretches under his robes, then relaxes, then folds back into place.* I would owe you much, though I’ve so little to give. Less that something of your sort would find useful. Safety from my Seekers is of no real use outside the Neath. Food cannot help a machine, and the things I give to eat aren’t what the sane enjoy in any case. Human flesh, rat extract, blemmigan nectar and Rubbery Lumps are not appetizing, generally. And yet I owe you for even trying.

Edited Date: 2018-04-15 08:18 pm (UTC)

From:

Marty: [. . .he's going to assume Mr. Eaten didn't mean that to sound like a threat] Right.

Alice: [nods] Oh trust me, I understand. Sometimes I think I was just as afraid of recovering as I was of staying in the asylum, for fear of losing everything again. [bites her lip] Still have nightmares about another fire sometimes. . .

Victor: [squeezes her hand, clearly wishing he had more comfort to give]

Dee: It's okay -- I like to help! And honestly, concentrating on just one timeline for a bit helps me too. This is a cool place, but. . . [she rubs her head] 'Cause of all the different times smashing into each other, staying here too long gives me headaches a lot. [she peers hard at him, as if memorizing something about him no one else can see] Okay -- back in a bit, I hope! [she pops back into DeLorean form, hoping to cover more ground quicker that way, and drives off]

From:

I don't think I would, mind you. You've been kind. I certainly won't here, where I can think about it properly.

I cannot help you much, I'm no good at sweet dreams, but I can give you dreams of death by water. Would you prefer them?

*Eventually Dee will come across a door that feels right. If she opens it she will see a dock on a sunless sea, darker than night, with false-stars that occasionally skitter across the roof of the Neath like giant fireflies. Perhaps that's what they are . . .*

From:

Marty: [all right, that helps some] We do our best. And, uh, yeah, you've already made it pretty clear we shouldn't get too close back in the Neath.

Alice: Er -- not really. I came close enough to drowning a few times in Wonderland I don't think it would be any sort of improvement.

Dee: [transforming back to poke her head through said door and confirm] Oooooh. . . [it's a bit creepy, but pretty in its own way. She turns back into a car and zooms back to the others to report her findings] Got it! Feels like the right spot, anyway. It's over there. [points in the general direction of the door] I could drive everybody over! In twos, anyway.

From:

A shame, but understandable.

Save your services for the others. Shorn of flesh I may be, stabbed and drowned and Eaten I may be, but I have wings enough for this. *Mr. Eaten's robe disappears into shadow. Beneath them he is a six-limbed skeleton; arms and legs and the long digits of a bat's wings with the torn remnants of membrane the color and texture of a bog body, the original appearance impossible to be certain of.* Once I flew from star to star, danced in the endless night. Now I can barely move at all in comparison, and yet I can keep up a little while.

From:

save_us_alice

Alice: I suppose your dreams wouldn't involve being nipped to pieces by Snarks too, but still. I've gotten used to the fiery ones anyway. I know how to deal with them.

Victor: [eyes widen -- Doc actually had told them about the wings, but it's another thing to see it in person] Oh wow. . .

Alice: [also pretty awed] Yes, that's quite impressive, even without the flesh. You must have been quite the sight to behold when you had some.

Marty: [nodding] Wild.

Dee: [whistling] Yeah, really. . .well, I guess just follow me then! [she flips back into car form, doors opening for her first passengers]

Doc: Victor, Alice, you go ahead -- I've got the ability to soar a little myself, if necessary. [pulls a hidden string in his coat lining, and a hidden frame opens, spreading it out like a hang glider -- probably not as impressive as Eaten's set-up, but still]

From:

*He who was Candles and was eaten flaps torn wings with a gasp, then leaps into the air. It's not easy for him anymore, but he's still far faster than a dead thing has any right to be.*

Oh, it has been too long . . . air is no longer my element, but I do miss it still.

From:

Alice: [getting into Dee] You seem to handle it pretty well even so.

Doc: You do indeed. Marty, you want to try it with me?

Marty: [grin] Yeah! [He grabs onto Doc like a baby monkey clinging to its parent. Moments later, a strong wind whips up, carrying Doc and his passenger aloft while somehow managing to avoid knocking Eaten off-balance]

Victor: [hopping into Dee's driver's seat, chuckling] I almost feel like we should have a race.

Dee: [honks her horn in a way that sounds like laughter, then vrooms off, making sure not to go too fast for either Doc or Eaten]

From:

*Mr. Eaten is able to keep up fairly easily, once he gets back into the rhythm of flight. It's not the sort of skill one forgets, apparently, and what is a snail's pace to his kind is still damn fast to those who've never had to deal with interstellar distances.

*They arrive quickly, shadows reforming into a cloak around gnawed bones. The Starveling Cat is there already, waiting from them as impatiently as if they'd been gone a hundred years.* Best if I not go through with you; you don't want me that close.

From:

museicalmarty

[Doc makes pretty good time too -- he's not as fast as Eaten, but he's got good control over his winds, and it's not that far to the door either. He lands in a flurry of breezes, putting Marty gently on the ground before pulling another string to fold up his coat.]

Dee: [parks by the door, then waits for Victor and Alice to get out before swapping back to kid form] Here we are! It actually looks pretty neat inside!

Alice: We'll see for ourselves in a moment. [nods to the Starveling Cat, then at Mr. Eaten] Yes, you've mentioned. . .bit of a shame, but if it's your nature. . .

Victor: At least now we know for sure there's a way through, and you can come back if you like. [lifts his hand in a wave] I suppose we'll say goodbye for now, then.

Doc: [nods] A pleasure to meet you. [small smirk] Now we just have to hope seeing where you live isn't too ruinous to our sanity.

Marty: [nudges him] We survived Arcadia, right? And we're all together this time. And we've got our PINpoints.

From: