( Allison does the most Shakespearean curtsy (3) having not read The Crucible in high school (someone was laid up after being impaled by an Oni) and not knowing quite what to do before taking his arm. She gives the snide woman a smile as she passes, leaning in subtly, herself. )
I don't know. Let's --
( She smiles, nods her head to other -- people from her bench? What are they?
A tiny, wisp of wind blows some dirt and pebbles across the aisle. A nearby woman pulls her shawl closer from the draft.
Davina has magic.
One of the last members of Allison's pew turns back to them, "Waiting to speak to the minister?"
Allison looks over to the minister stepping down from the pulpits, greeting his parishioners and she smiles, again. )
Yes, we are. We will see you later on. In the day.
( The woman bows her head, gives Sam an, 'what is with your wife, does she need to be checked out,' look and leaves.
Scott and Davina are left with about... 1/3 of the devotees still getting their things together.
Everyone on the top floor has exited.
Scott keeps Davina's hand in his, standing straight, feeling unbalanced in his tall hat.
[She squints around as she takes his arm, trying to see if this is some kind of illusion or chambre de chasse. She lifts her skirts, before turning to move towards the door.]
Let's see if we can leave the church.
[That will at least confirm or eliminate one of those options.
Sam follows Allison's lead and moves them towards the minister, eyes scanning the church to take in the tenor.
"From the look of things, I don't think we're in California anymore."]
( Scott, the gentleman, lets Davina navigate her way out from behind the pew. He gives one look to Sam and Allison, tries not to - smile, but just - you know, a, 'we're okay,' before he and Davina indeed leave out the front entrance. The crowd's dispersed, most people having returned to their homes or their various chores.
Tables are being set for something in the middle of the town.
Inside the chapel, Allison frowns, waiting in line to speak to the minister, because that's what... she said she was going to do. )
Want to bet, Massachussetts?
( (nat 20 history check.) )
The clothes. The language. The judgment. I don't want to say it out loud.
[She wishes to continue to use her magic to her advantage. Stepping outside the church means probably not a chambre de chasse. That's good, at least. She then decides to take in a breath, expanding some magical feelers to see if she can sense anything familiar (11).
Sam takes in the details before nodding slowly.]
Maybe 1600s, give or take? Things seem pretty ... rustic.
( There is nothing overtly familiar to Davina, besides, there is magic present. The source isn't evident, but there's magic. As far as the grass feels beneath her feet and the breeze feels in her hair, they are somewhere real and not in a spell. )
I was going to say positively Puritan, but, maybe the alliteration's the Lydia in me. We can't --
( It's there turn as Allison interrupts herself, turning to the minister. Thanking him for his sermon. He calls her Abigail, and thanks her and her husband John for always leading their congregation with honor and piety. We've established, Allison did not read The Crucible.
The minister says he'll see them at the feast that evening and takes his leave.
Outside, Scott and Davina are left alone, save for a few people setting up the rustic, good word Sam, festivities.
Allison takes Sam's arm again, walking the two of them out of the chapel. She looks around them before nodding to Davina and Scott. She looks to Sam as she speaks, knowing to be reverent to her husband as she addresses them. )
You can see us?
("Yeah, but, no one else can?" Scott says, probably a little too pointedly straight at Allison, like he's taking orders and not respecting his wife beside him (4). )
[He makes a face because he has read The Crucible. Davina, unfortunately, has not. She was busy hiding from the rest of her coven and then being the regent to worry about school work.
That being said, she does have her own information to share: "This isn't a chambre de chasse. We've definitely been transported somewhere - I'm just not really sure how just yet."
There's a beat.
"How do we figure out who's safe for us to talk to for Scott and I to find out who we are?"]
( Scott did read it, and knows what they're in the middle of. A lot of context comes to mind, John being the sort-of villain of the story, having villainized a young girl, but at lease John and Abigail have standing in their community. -- But, Abigail should be Elizabeth. Maybe it's a fictionalized thing, like, names are gotten wrong in the process. He doesn't think that's helpful.
"I don't know," Allison says.
Scott wonders. )
We might be the Putnams.
( Not that he knows. )
Do we need to find out who we are? ...Do we think the bodies are gone and we're here now?
("There's no straight line tracing back the Colony, but according to Rusty, they did break way from their old coven and bring their particular brand of -- their particular brand. To Salem." Allison would cross her arms, but she doesn't know how she's supposed to look. "Whatever or whoever we're looking for, they'd keep their true motives to themselves. I didn't like the reverend, but I've never done well with organized religion."
Maybe it's just her.
Scott squeezes Davina's hand for support, looking around them. )
It was the trap, right? Maybe this is their failsafe?
Shooting us back to the actual Salem Witch Trials? And why just us, why not all of us? You don't see the others do you?
[He didn't spot Chris Argent in any of the other parishioners, but he doesn't know the others as well. Davina glances around and shakes her head. "Josh and Aiden would have stayed close. Unless they got placed in people that were somewhere else?"
Sam nods, because could be. But for right now, they need to focus on the matter at hand.]
For now, let's focus on the targets. Maybe finding them is how we get back.
("Maybe to isolate us, and throw us off," Scott says. "Separate us." He has a feeling Josh, Chris, and Aiden are probably dealing with something of their own.
Or, maybe they're here, too. He frowns.
"But, they weren't pulled into the ground like we were," he says, remembering vividly. )
Look, we don't know anything. We know that we're here. And we see each other. And everyone here sees who they thinks we are. I'm Abigail, I think this is my husband, John. I've done this before -- not this, but, whenever you're playing the part of someone you don't know, you let everyone around you lead. And then you agree. It's simple. If we're here -- then I bet we're not alone. I think there are two sets of targets. ( Her face turns serious. ) I think they might be their own failsafe.
( But, how they deal with that, she doesn't know. )
I wish Lydia were here, she focused on the Muir Woods, but she'd also been doing her own research on the Colony.
( A sigh. )
Okay, here's what we do. Scott, did you see people go into every house.
( (12) "I saw people go into some of the houses, but I didn't notice if one stayed empty," he says, apologetically.
"Mother, Father?"a young girl, says from beside Davina. "Mr. Proctor, Mrs. Proctor," she says, bowing.
"We were --" Scott starts, knowing Allison might not know they're the proctors. He did smell the recognition from Sam. But, he can take Allison's advice. "discussing tonight's feast with the proctors. Are you looking forward to it?"
"I am," she says, nodding. "The other girls will be there, but I'm still very worried about Mary Warren.")
Would it make you feel better if she went to see her?
[If this is a clue, Davina's willing to follow it. She doesn't know where Mary Warren is, but she's willing to bet that if there's something witchy afoot, it might be useful to have Davina look at it.
She then looks back to the rest of the group and raises an eyebrow to see if any of them know how to play this here.
Sam swallows and nods. "Of course. Let's go see Mary Warren." Who conveniently works for him an Allison. Except he doesn't know where he lives.]
("Ruth," Scott tries, and recalls, if they're the Putnams (and he remembers the movie, too), then this is their daughter, Ruth. He encourages her to walk ahead, so her parents can discuss grownup business.
Ruth knows seriousness when she hears it, but she is distracted and haunted (3) and doesn't suspect her father is using a more modern term. She walks ahead without being asked again, leaving them a little time to follow and trail behind.
"I don't think she's worried about Mary Warren," he tells Sam, remembering the allegory. She and the other girls, usually goaded by Abigail make the accusations - Tituba, the Devil. 'I saw Goody So-And-So with the devil.' This feels like an intimidation tactic, especially if this is near Mary Warren's breaking point. )
Her tone?
("Everything else," Scott says. "It's not just me. Sam, you see it, too?" Like they're in depicted history? But, slightly off? Does Davina, the girl hidden in the church attic, recognize it as well? )
["In the play, the girls were the ones pointing the fingers." Sam keeps his voice down to not arouse Ruth's suspicion. "I can't remember which ones though."
Davina's attention refocuses on her "daughter" as she leads the way, and studies her again (13). There is real concern there, but there's also something darker underneath. There's an odd undercurrent to all of this.]
Why do I have a bad feeling about me being here in the middle of an actual witch hunt?
Mary dissented, at first. She had a guilty conscience. But, Ruth did. It was Abigail pulling the strings, so I guess...
( Elizabeth is Abigail? In this? )
I don't think Mrs. Putnam was ever accused.
( So, maybe Davina is safe. But, Allison, maybe not. Was Elizabeth accused? )
We're sure Allison isn't Abigail, Abigail?
("We don't know, he called me Abigail and it didn't sound like I was -- not supposed to be." Or not supposed to be with Sam.
They reach "Sam and Allison's (?) house", or where Mary's led them at least, and Ruth lets herself in.
"Mary Warren, it's Ruth Putnam," she calls, not announcing she's with her parents and Ruth's employers. "With John and Elizabeth Proctor, and my parents," she says, letting herself in.
Scott looks at Sam and then Allison. Scott holds Davina back for a second. Does she know more than she lets on?
The door swings shut and a second later, it opens again, with 'Ruth,' holding it open.
[Sam straightens at that, eyes narrowing as he locks in on part of the problem. He doesn't concede any of his ground, but does reassess "Ruth" as though he's trying to see beyond the illusion, but he's struggling some (9).
He doesn't like it. So he doesn't move.]
Why should we? You seem to know a lot more than we do and that smells like a trap.
[Davina's willing to let Sam do the talking and draw the attention, but attempts to draw on her magic some to see through the illusion. She's doing a bit better than Sam (19).]
( This is not a little girl named Ruth. It's powerful, powerful magic, but, she gets the faint indication of an inhalation of dust and death. Cigarette smoke. And something she can't pinpoint that shouldn't be there, but is. Where she spoke as a Pilgrim girl, there does seem to be a distinguishing accent coming through only to Davina. How is her world accent knowledge?
"Ruth" tuts, leaning against the doorway, glancing past them to make sure they're not being watched.
"Well, if it smells like a trap and you're in a trap, then why wouldn't I just roll you up right into another trap, then. Real crack plot of mine, 'cept it's not mine, is it? This isn't The Bad Seed. This is The Crucible..." He does relent, though, shit. "There are similarities, but they're wholly different stories. You wouldn't look the either way if I was Shiv Roy, would you? Who would. Sara Snook's Broadway caliber."
Scott just squints, but also takes Sam's lead. Allison's eyes narrow.
[She gets visits from a lot of different witches from different parts of the world, so her accent game actually isn't bad (14). Still, she uses her fingers to catch on to the thread of that magic getting ready to rend it should she need to.
Sam looks uncertain, but Davina takes Scott's arm and nods.]
Might as well. We're not going to get any new information standing out here.
( The magic is powerful, and it's taken hold of whomever this is. The most she'll be able to do next turn is ... well, she can do one more roll. That's two successes.
Ruth is British, Davina. And not super posh British either. Working class, Brit. )
Go on, I'll cover you.
( And so, Davina, then Scott, then Sam with Allison's coaxing and finally Allison who closes the door behind them.
Ruth moves over to the fireplace, turning away, when she turns back she's smoking a pipe.
"It's no cigarette, but it plays its part nicely. Plus, I like the flavor of the kinnikinnick. Hate the texture though," she sniffs, shrugs, leaning against the cobblestone fireplace.
Scott moves to the stairs up.
"I don't know where Mary is, or," she starts, taking a drag from her pipe. "What her deal is. Whole thing's pretty backward. You ask me, their magic should've been tweaked once this century, yeah? Still, it mixes up names. Faces. Usually takes more than day one for you to even know who you are. Guessing that's all our last drop-in's doing. Anyway, let's get this over with. You know why you're here, but I need to hear it."
"She" hates the antiquated form these rituals take. Specifics must be shared. She was not made to be the middle man and frustration in her voice is evident, along with the complete and utter nonchalance. )
[Well, that third roll was not great (6), so whatever information she could gain slips through her fingers as she moves from one venue to the next. Instead, she steps inside, trying to follow that ramble and try to make sense of it.]
So, what? The Muir Woods just kidnap people on occasion and dump them into a ... really elaborate chambre de chasse? Based on old stories?
[Sam walks in behind her, hanging back by the door, and also scanning the room for anything that he might be able to use as a weapon (14) should the need arise.]
( It's one big room with one bedroom off of the main room, a bedroom up the stairs. Probably their daughter's. There's a candlestick, a bucket stew might be made in, rocks on a hearth toward the back he could wedge loose. A firepoker. Plates.
Taking her pipe, she points to Davina.
"Don't know what one of those are, but, yeah, for the most part?Usually something derived from what you know, you read, you like. Last bloke made the world go Working Girl, but - Shakespearean. Real tense. And real, real crass. Things shifted when you lot dropped in. And, I'm your minder.")
Minder?
("That's the word they use, but feels more like a babysitter explaining the rules to a game you never asked to play. All because you thought you got the drop on some ancient meanies, yeah?")
("I may have recently gone to the Pilgrims, but I wasn't born yesterday and I know why I'm here." (16), because of how she's been built into this, has her doubting but believing Davina. "She" doesn't quite know how she's here, but, she's used to new leases on her life. She misses people not named Ben, but listens to the little witch.
Looks to Scott, to Sam. )
My girlfriend's a witch.
( a nice (7) to bluff with her, but he sticks to the truth at least.
"Yeah, yeah, you're a right clever girl. Stumbling into a mystery." It's an easy explanation. "You play the game, you survive. 'Cept when dad and dad come home. Check in on the untimelies. You last long enough, someone else drops in, everything shifts. Or you perish. Medieval if you ask me.")
[This sounds familiar. Sam fights the urge to roll his eyes, considering they're playing off a much better playbook.]
Let me guess. Playing the game means playing our roles?
[Sam could do self-righteous man with too much pride, he's been there before. But he doesn't want to waste his time playing a game that Gabriel already put him and Dean through years ago.]
("Play your parts good enough and even WC won't see through your charade. Muck up and draw the town's ire, well, there are the stocks. And worse."
Allison has had enough of this game and it hasn't even started.
"Contrary to what the others do, they like you nice and alive."
How else can they inhabit you if you're dead. )
We're vessels now?
("Way it works. You volunteered to be tributes. Guessing you left your friends behind. They're either mulch by now or in their grubby little hands," she says, clearly not on one side or the other.
"But don't listen to little old me, what do I know? I opened my eyes and I was in Wuthering Heights."
But, here she is, aware of what's going on, and transferring with the world shifts. That must mean something. )
I refuse to believe there's a way out.
("They trapped a god. Well, demigod, but I've tussled with gods before and they should not be trapped anywhere. Barring massive cosmic comeuppance.")
What do you - you just talk to hear yourself, don't you? Slow down, or actually help. Because we've all done this before in one way or another. And there's always a way out. God or no god.
( Scott steps forward.
"Caroline mentioned the gods when I was touring the school, but only in passing."
"It's not mine to mention," Mary says. )
You just mentioned it. You call it babysitting, but I call it being a smart-ass. What if we can help you?
( Mary's about to scoff, turns away, takes a long puff from her pipe. "It's okay, Spike," a voice comes from up the stairs. He comes down in colonial garb, dressed quite like Mary might be dressed, but looking very much like a timeless blonde - in a dress.
He stops on the bottom step.
"He's right. I shouldn't be contained." Ben says. )
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everyonelives2025-03-12 08:39 pm
no subject
I don't know. Let's --
( She smiles, nods her head to other -- people from her bench? What are they?
A tiny, wisp of wind blows some dirt and pebbles across the aisle. A nearby woman pulls her shawl closer from the draft.
Davina has magic.
One of the last members of Allison's pew turns back to them, "Waiting to speak to the minister?"
Allison looks over to the minister stepping down from the pulpits, greeting his parishioners and she smiles, again. )
Yes, we are. We will see you later on. In the day.
( The woman bows her head, gives Sam an, 'what is with your wife, does she need to be checked out,' look and leaves.
Scott and Davina are left with about... 1/3 of the devotees still getting their things together.
Everyone on the top floor has exited.
Scott keeps Davina's hand in his, standing straight, feeling unbalanced in his tall hat.
"Are we?..." )
no subject
[She squints around as she takes his arm, trying to see if this is some kind of illusion or chambre de chasse. She lifts her skirts, before turning to move towards the door.]
Let's see if we can leave the church.
[That will at least confirm or eliminate one of those options.
Sam follows Allison's lead and moves them towards the minister, eyes scanning the church to take in the tenor.
"From the look of things, I don't think we're in California anymore."]
no subject
Tables are being set for something in the middle of the town.
Inside the chapel, Allison frowns, waiting in line to speak to the minister, because that's what... she said she was going to do. )
Want to bet, Massachussetts?
( (nat 20 history check.) )
The clothes. The language. The judgment. I don't want to say it out loud.
no subject
Sam takes in the details before nodding slowly.]
Maybe 1600s, give or take? Things seem pretty ... rustic.
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I was going to say positively Puritan, but, maybe the alliteration's the Lydia in me. We can't --
( It's there turn as Allison interrupts herself, turning to the minister. Thanking him for his sermon. He calls her Abigail, and thanks her and her husband John for always leading their congregation with honor and piety. We've established, Allison did not read The Crucible.
The minister says he'll see them at the feast that evening and takes his leave.
Outside, Scott and Davina are left alone, save for a few people setting up the rustic, good word Sam, festivities.
Allison takes Sam's arm again, walking the two of them out of the chapel. She looks around them before nodding to Davina and Scott. She looks to Sam as she speaks, knowing to be reverent to her husband as she addresses them. )
You can see us?
( "Yeah, but, no one else can?" Scott says, probably a little too pointedly straight at Allison, like he's taking orders and not respecting his wife beside him (4). )
no subject
[He makes a face because he has read The Crucible. Davina, unfortunately, has not. She was busy hiding from the rest of her coven and then being the regent to worry about school work.
That being said, she does have her own information to share: "This isn't a chambre de chasse. We've definitely been transported somewhere - I'm just not really sure how just yet."
There's a beat.
"How do we figure out who's safe for us to talk to for Scott and I to find out who we are?"]
no subject
( Scott did read it, and knows what they're in the middle of. A lot of context comes to mind, John being the sort-of villain of the story, having villainized a young girl, but at lease John and Abigail have standing in their community. -- But, Abigail should be Elizabeth. Maybe it's a fictionalized thing, like, names are gotten wrong in the process. He doesn't think that's helpful.
"I don't know," Allison says.
Scott wonders. )
We might be the Putnams.
( Not that he knows. )
Do we need to find out who we are? ...Do we think the bodies are gone and we're here now?
no subject
[She's going to guess they don't. Maybe it is better if they just move on quickly.]
What do we know about the ones we're looking for? Did they originate in Salem?
[Sam shrugs. "That's part of the theory? The trials were said to be an off-shoot of the last Gauntlet."
Davina appreciates how they both decided that maybe saying the word "witch" outright is not the best idea.]
Then maybe our place to start is finding the locals?
no subject
Maybe it's just her.
Scott squeezes Davina's hand for support, looking around them. )
It was the trap, right? Maybe this is their failsafe?
no subject
[He didn't spot Chris Argent in any of the other parishioners, but he doesn't know the others as well. Davina glances around and shakes her head. "Josh and Aiden would have stayed close. Unless they got placed in people that were somewhere else?"
Sam nods, because could be. But for right now, they need to focus on the matter at hand.]
For now, let's focus on the targets. Maybe finding them is how we get back.
no subject
Or, maybe they're here, too. He frowns.
"But, they weren't pulled into the ground like we were," he says, remembering vividly. )
Look, we don't know anything. We know that we're here. And we see each other. And everyone here sees who they thinks we are. I'm Abigail, I think this is my husband, John. I've done this before -- not this, but, whenever you're playing the part of someone you don't know, you let everyone around you lead. And then you agree. It's simple. If we're here -- then I bet we're not alone. I think there are two sets of targets. ( Her face turns serious. ) I think they might be their own failsafe.
( But, how they deal with that, she doesn't know. )
I wish Lydia were here, she focused on the Muir Woods, but she'd also been doing her own research on the Colony.
( A sigh. )
Okay, here's what we do. Scott, did you see people go into every house.
( (12) "I saw people go into some of the houses, but I didn't notice if one stayed empty," he says, apologetically.
"Mother, Father?" a young girl, says from beside Davina. "Mr. Proctor, Mrs. Proctor," she says, bowing.
"We were --" Scott starts, knowing Allison might not know they're the proctors. He did smell the recognition from Sam. But, he can take Allison's advice. "discussing tonight's feast with the proctors. Are you looking forward to it?"
"I am," she says, nodding. "The other girls will be there, but I'm still very worried about Mary Warren." )
no subject
[If this is a clue, Davina's willing to follow it. She doesn't know where Mary Warren is, but she's willing to bet that if there's something witchy afoot, it might be useful to have Davina look at it.
She then looks back to the rest of the group and raises an eyebrow to see if any of them know how to play this here.
Sam swallows and nods. "Of course. Let's go see Mary Warren." Who conveniently works for him an Allison. Except he doesn't know where he lives.]
no subject
Ruth knows seriousness when she hears it, but she is distracted and haunted (3) and doesn't suspect her father is using a more modern term. She walks ahead without being asked again, leaving them a little time to follow and trail behind.
"I don't think she's worried about Mary Warren," he tells Sam, remembering the allegory. She and the other girls, usually goaded by Abigail make the accusations - Tituba, the Devil. 'I saw Goody So-And-So with the devil.' This feels like an intimidation tactic, especially if this is near Mary Warren's breaking point. )
Her tone?
( "Everything else," Scott says. "It's not just me. Sam, you see it, too?" Like they're in depicted history? But, slightly off? Does Davina, the girl hidden in the church attic, recognize it as well? )
no subject
Davina's attention refocuses on her "daughter" as she leads the way, and studies her again (13). There is real concern there, but there's also something darker underneath. There's an odd undercurrent to all of this.]
Why do I have a bad feeling about me being here in the middle of an actual witch hunt?
no subject
( Elizabeth is Abigail? In this? )
I don't think Mrs. Putnam was ever accused.
( So, maybe Davina is safe. But, Allison, maybe not. Was Elizabeth accused? )
We're sure Allison isn't Abigail, Abigail?
( "We don't know, he called me Abigail and it didn't sound like I was -- not supposed to be." Or not supposed to be with Sam.
They reach "Sam and Allison's (?) house", or where Mary's led them at least, and Ruth lets herself in.
"Mary Warren, it's Ruth Putnam," she calls, not announcing she's with her parents and Ruth's employers. "With John and Elizabeth Proctor, and my parents," she says, letting herself in.
Scott looks at Sam and then Allison. Scott holds Davina back for a second. Does she know more than she lets on?
The door swings shut and a second later, it opens again, with 'Ruth,' holding it open.
"I called you Elizabeth, didn't I. Inside. Now." )
no subject
He doesn't like it. So he doesn't move.]
Why should we? You seem to know a lot more than we do and that smells like a trap.
[Davina's willing to let Sam do the talking and draw the attention, but attempts to draw on her magic some to see through the illusion. She's doing a bit better than Sam (19).]
no subject
"Ruth" tuts, leaning against the doorway, glancing past them to make sure they're not being watched.
"Well, if it smells like a trap and you're in a trap, then why wouldn't I just roll you up right into another trap, then. Real crack plot of mine, 'cept it's not mine, is it? This isn't The Bad Seed. This is The Crucible..." He does relent, though, shit. "There are similarities, but they're wholly different stories. You wouldn't look the either way if I was Shiv Roy, would you? Who would. Sara Snook's Broadway caliber."
Scott just squints, but also takes Sam's lead. Allison's eyes narrow.
"Get in here you lot," "she" insists. )
no subject
Sam looks uncertain, but Davina takes Scott's arm and nods.]
Might as well. We're not going to get any new information standing out here.
no subject
Ruth is British, Davina. And not super posh British either. Working class, Brit. )
Go on, I'll cover you.
( And so, Davina, then Scott, then Sam with Allison's coaxing and finally Allison who closes the door behind them.
Ruth moves over to the fireplace, turning away, when she turns back she's smoking a pipe.
"It's no cigarette, but it plays its part nicely. Plus, I like the flavor of the kinnikinnick. Hate the texture though," she sniffs, shrugs, leaning against the cobblestone fireplace.
Scott moves to the stairs up.
"I don't know where Mary is, or," she starts, taking a drag from her pipe. "What her deal is. Whole thing's pretty backward. You ask me, their magic should've been tweaked once this century, yeah? Still, it mixes up names. Faces. Usually takes more than day one for you to even know who you are. Guessing that's all our last drop-in's doing. Anyway, let's get this over with. You know why you're here, but I need to hear it."
"She" hates the antiquated form these rituals take. Specifics must be shared. She was not made to be the middle man and frustration in her voice is evident, along with the complete and utter nonchalance. )
no subject
So, what? The Muir Woods just kidnap people on occasion and dump them into a ... really elaborate chambre de chasse? Based on old stories?
[Sam walks in behind her, hanging back by the door, and also scanning the room for anything that he might be able to use as a weapon (14) should the need arise.]
no subject
Taking her pipe, she points to Davina.
"Don't know what one of those are, but, yeah, for the most part?Usually something derived from what you know, you read, you like. Last bloke made the world go Working Girl, but - Shakespearean. Real tense. And real, real crass. Things shifted when you lot dropped in. And, I'm your minder." )
Minder?
( "That's the word they use, but feels more like a babysitter explaining the rules to a game you never asked to play. All because you thought you got the drop on some ancient meanies, yeah?" )
no subject
We weren't trying to get the drop on anyone. We were on a hike.
[She crosses her arms in front of her chest.]
There's a lot of magic in those trees. My fault, maybe, that we wandered too far, but we didn't mean any harm.
[A fairly solid bluff (18), especially since Davina is one of the newer add-ons to this little adventure.]
no subject
Looks to Scott, to Sam. )
My girlfriend's a witch.
( a nice (7) to bluff with her, but he sticks to the truth at least.
"Yeah, yeah, you're a right clever girl. Stumbling into a mystery." It's an easy explanation. "You play the game, you survive. 'Cept when dad and dad come home. Check in on the untimelies. You last long enough, someone else drops in, everything shifts. Or you perish. Medieval if you ask me." )
no subject
Let me guess. Playing the game means playing our roles?
[Sam could do self-righteous man with too much pride, he's been there before. But he doesn't want to waste his time playing a game that Gabriel already put him and Dean through years ago.]
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Allison has had enough of this game and it hasn't even started.
"Contrary to what the others do, they like you nice and alive."
How else can they inhabit you if you're dead. )
We're vessels now?
( "Way it works. You volunteered to be tributes. Guessing you left your friends behind. They're either mulch by now or in their grubby little hands," she says, clearly not on one side or the other.
"But don't listen to little old me, what do I know? I opened my eyes and I was in Wuthering Heights."
But, here she is, aware of what's going on, and transferring with the world shifts. That must mean something. )
I refuse to believe there's a way out.
( "They trapped a god. Well, demigod, but I've tussled with gods before and they should not be trapped anywhere. Barring massive cosmic comeuppance." )
What do you - you just talk to hear yourself, don't you? Slow down, or actually help. Because we've all done this before in one way or another. And there's always a way out. God or no god.
( Scott steps forward.
"Caroline mentioned the gods when I was touring the school, but only in passing."
"It's not mine to mention," Mary says. )
You just mentioned it. You call it babysitting, but I call it being a smart-ass. What if we can help you?
( Mary's about to scoff, turns away, takes a long puff from her pipe. "It's okay, Spike," a voice comes from up the stairs. He comes down in colonial garb, dressed quite like Mary might be dressed, but looking very much like a timeless blonde - in a dress.
He stops on the bottom step.
"He's right. I shouldn't be contained." Ben says. )
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🎀?