outer_divide | 001 [video]

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001 [video]

[Armand found his clothes and the communicator and his way as far as the base of the ramp exiting the ship. The utter unfamiliarity of the landscape hit him hard, and he didn't make it much further yet. So he fiddles with the device until his fingers find the combination he wants, though he has no idea why he knows it.

The tip of his nose is already red from the cold. He speaks with a noticeable French accent, and his voice is pleasant and cheerful, at least for the moment.]

I'm game if someone wants to tell me the trick. This is hardly England, nor France either. And it wasn't this cold last I knew.

[A pause, as he looks around yet again. He's not wearing a jacket over his shirt and waistcoat. Apparently he didn't have one with him when he was spirited from there to here.]

I'd go back inside, but it doesn't seem hospitable in there. I can see a city, but it looks a fair way off to walk. Is that where I should go?

Has anyone seen or heard of Sir Percy Blakeney or Marguerite St.--I mean Lady Blakeney? If you have, could you tell them I've been found though I don't know how I was lost this time? It's not my fault, anyway. I'm Armand. St. Just, that is. Margot's my sister.

The short of it is that I'm cold, and if I should just go back inside for a bit, I will, but I'm hoping to hear of a better alternative.

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It's just as well. [There is a note of real regret in his voice.]

Yes, M. Lyall, and I am already seeing many things that need an explanation. Including this device, which I do know how to work, but I can't fathom how it works.

Hmm, yes, I imagine so.

[Lyall may not be able to offer particulars, but he can at least explain the general... best not done over the network, however, so he offers,]

Perhaps I should meet you once you've settled in? Say, an hour from now, at the ground floor of the Flop?

I think that would suit. That should give me a little time to get warm again.

Excellent. I will see you in person shortly, then, Mister St. Just.

[He would tip his hat, except he's not wearing it at the moment. As it is, he just inclines his head with a little smile, and cuts out the feed to rush through some paperwork, in the hopes of finishing before it's time to go.]

((would you like a jump to action? ^^ ))

[About an hour later . . .

Inside the Flop, finding warm clothes aren't a big problem since he's already far warmer here than he had been outside. The cold made Armand ache a bit, but he wasn't particularly hungry or in pain. Just a bit tired and over-excited by this development in his life. It hadn't sunk in yet what it really meant So far it was just another adventure.

He's looking for Lyall, but not actively shouting his name or asking people. He's just looking for the face he remembered seeing on the screen.]

[Lyall shows up about on time, once he's finished as much of his paperwork as he's going to, and walks into the lobby first level of the Flop from the outside. This time, he has a hat. His cravat is well-tied and, for a man in a post-apocalyptic world without proper laundry fascilities or tailors, he looks fairly well put-together.

He's looking for Armand, too, though doing so in part by searching for the new scent in the halls and following that. He knows the scents who should be here, after all, and Armand does stand out a bit. He's all... recently-podded and all that.]

[At some point, Armand turns to retrace his steps. He isn't so good at finding a near stranger, and stops, shocked, since it seems that Lyall has found him.]

There you are, monsieur! I had no idea there would be so many people here. [If newly podded is the term, then he most certainly is. His clothes are still all his own, since it isn't as cold in here. Poor fellow doesn't even still have his cravat since he was taken only recently after an escape from the Bastille and France. But he is mostly covered, nothing indecently exposed except perhaps his head, and his sister only managed to make him wear a hat at her wedding. Shirt, waistcoat, trousers and boots. And a ribbon tying back light brown hair into a ponytail that falls down his back.]

I should have know you would be such a dapper gentleman.

That is a kind thing to say.

[Lyall does, in fact, look a bit flattered by the compliment. It is nice to have one's efforts at keeping properly clothed noticed.]

Regardless, Professor Randolph Lyall, at your service.

[He offers the young man his hand to shake.]

Have you found a room yet? You may have to share, but there may be some rooms open without another occupant.

[Armand shook the hand with enthusiasm and bowed once when he let go. Just to cover all the kinds of polite he can remember.]

Since now we're truly meeting. I'm Armand St. Just. [Just plain Armand.]

I haven't. I don't mind sharing. I don't take up that much room. But I don't think you should ask me to impose upon a young lady, if it's possible.

I'm certain that can be arranged, though housing is really rather haphazard, and it's up to you to find yourself a space in here. Simply look for one that has no ladies in it.

[Perhaps that was a joke. Perhaps not. Regardless, Lyall beckons him towards the front room, half lobby and half communal sitting room, to have a seat.]

So what have you been told thus far, Mister St. Just?

[Sorry, Armand. You have the polite Victorian. He's going with your last name.]

[That kind of respect is a little hard on young Armand's ego, but he'll live, Professor Lyall.]

I should just look into the rooms? That sounds rude. [But it may be the way to find out.]

This is very old city, a remnant of a war with machines I couldn't possibly understand. There are people who live in the dome who cannot live out here, and don't like anyone out here very much. That great metal fortress is a ship, and most of us who weren't born here come from it. [He's reciting it like a lesson: the facts he's learned so far.]

I don't understand how that is, but since I am here, perhaps I shouldn't break my head trying to understand things that are above me.

Oh, I forgot. There are monsters in the wilderness.

Edited (didn't set the icon) 2013-01-28 21:20 (UTC)

You could try knocking first,

[Is Lyall's dry suggestion to that. He eases down into one of the chairs out in the front room, motioning for Armand to do the same in one of the others.]

A good summary. All you are missing are the overview of how to get by in this city, and to be careful what you say on the network-- on that communicator you sent that call on, earlier. Do you have any specific questions? Besides the one about the communicator, itself.

[Other than a fierce flush of momentary temper, Armand doesn't seem overly upset at the correction. And he takes another chair near Lyall, perching in it nervously instead of relaxing.]

I think Ms. Potts mentioned being careful what to say. I forgot to say that.

I wanted to know how many people were living here. In the city, I mean. It looks very big from a distance, but now I'm here, it seems very quiet. Is that because of the danger? [Seriously, allowing Armand to ask questions is like opening a tidal gate.]

[Lyall is a professor. Sort of. He can handle questions, or so he's certain!]

There are not terribly many people here, no. The population is currently at a little over two thousand-- less than it was several months ago, and much less than it was a century ago. War and plague both have taken their toll, I'm afraid. Obviously this city was originally meant for many more people, but I'm sure you saw some of the disrepair the place is in, on your way here.

[Armand absorbs all that like a curious little French sponge.]

It was a very advanced city wasn't it? Are there many businesses and such left?

Quite. Much more advanced than in my time, even. It seems more comparable to the era around the turn of the millenium, the year two-thousand, from what I have learned from others who come from around that time. The technology of the domed city beyond the barrier is much higher, however, developed in the hundreds of years since they withdrew-- and the technology from the structure those of us "out of time" all came from is higher, still. That is where your communicator came from.

[At the mention of the communicator, Armand fishes it from a pocket.]

That's a very odd device, isn't it? I don't know why I know how to make it work. [Without having the least clue why it works.]

Is everything here focused on just surviving? [He would understand the answer either way.]

May I see it?

[Lyall holds out a hand, curious and hoping he can offer some kind of explanation once he gets a look at it. Then again, perhaps not. His, after all, took him a few tries to figure out, and it looked at least superficially like something he was familiar with.]

Most of the locals are only concerned with survival, at least from what we can tell. There may be some source of rebellion somewhere, but with winter upon us and plague just recently behind us, it must take back seat, I imagine. Those of us from the ship do have other projects.

[Armand hands the device over.]

It must seem paltry next to having heat and food and clean water, but I wondered about cultural events. My sister was an actress. It seems to me that a difficult life might seem less difficult with some diversion, even if it just a little music making or story-telling during meals.

Music, there is, though not often in a formal fashion, and there are occasions for dancing and feasting. Acting performances, however, I have not seen, and story-telling I believe occurs more in private than on a public sphere.

[As he speaks, he examines the communicator. It definitely does not look like his....]

There is no form of currency here. Everything is done in barter and trade: goods and services, both. So paying for performances of such a nature becomes more difficult.

((so what DOES his communicator look like? a default, or something from his own time period? ^^ ))

[Armand listens.] I can see that about not having money. If there were enough resources, I could see an acting or opera troupe being supported by community sponsorship, of sorts. But people would have to have enough left over not to mind.

[But thinking so deeply or hard isn't really his nature.] It's complicated isn't it? I'd like to participate in some of the dancing sometime, when I know what I'm doing around here.

((His is the standard alien model. I couldn't think of anything from his period that would work.))

I'm certain you could find someone willing to teach you the local steps.

[Considering the prettiness combined with the politeness, Lyall has no doubt about that. He hands the communicator back to Armand.]

It is not like anything I have ever seen, I will admit. But you may have noticed, upon waking... the rooms and style of the ship seemed a little familiar? It is a bit like that. I think whoever put us into those pods did something to us, somehow, to put knowledge into us about the ship and its devices. Or else removed it, and we had been there longer than we currently recall.

[Either one is possible, given what he's seen since his arrival here.]

[Well, Lyall probably doesn't know too much about the awkwardness, but Armand is still young. He'll grow out of it. Armand is still thinking a little about dancing, maybe with a pretty girl he hasn't met yet, then shakes head when Lyall moves on to talk about the technology.]

I did notice that. [He didn't like it. It was probably the main reason he spent as much time as he did freezing out in front of the ship instead of inside it.] Wing said we were brought here to fight, but that war's over. Are you saying it's possible that we already did fight? And now don't remember? [What a horrifying thought.]

Anything is possible, it seems. Though I believe the people here would have legends of that. I believe whatever our purpose was in being snatched from our homes and times, it was foiled when that ship crashed on the planet. We still may be able to fulfill our purpose, but we can only guess at what it is, now.

[He shakes his head, too, a little disapproving of the whole affair.]

The ship has been there, disabled and abandoned, for at least a century, perhaps more. If we can get it functional again, we have a chance to make it home. Until then, we must make do with what we have here.

So perhaps not. [It never occurred to him that the ship might be crashed and not simply aging.]

But I don't even know what use I would have been. Is that what people want, to live inside it?

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