shatterverse | (no subject)

Villiers just happens to walk by. It's not hard, after all -- there's only the two of them in a relatively small place.

He stops. Places a hand on his shoulder. Trails it lightly across his back.

Imriel is fast becoming a hobby of his.

"Villiers."

That would be a bright little smile, and Imriel standing up to embrace him quietly.

There's a door right behind them.

Possibly, the last time it was opened there was not a monochromatic woman behind it, and nor could they see the interior of a farmhouse corridor over her shoulder.

"Good day, Laurence, Imriel."

...!

"What the-"

That quiet moment, just a few seconds ago? Has completely vanished. Because now, there's an extremely twitchy Villiers looking at the newcomer with astonishment.

And while no one may know his given name, he still answers to it. Albeit with some awkwardness.

"...good day," says Imri, puzzled.

And moving protectively in front of Villiers, purely on instinct, one arm around the older man's waist.

"You appear to have the advantage of us."

Though he's still wearing his daggers, and his sword is on the table within easy reach.

Oh.

Ish reflects that she should really practice that whole 'introductions' thing.

"My apologies," she says, "I did not mean to startle you. I am Intuition. If you prefer," she adds to Villiers, a little more gently than is perhaps neccessary, "then I shall refer to you by your surname."

It's a bit odd to be the one being protected, but then again, Imriel's the more experienced fighter. But at least Villiers is armed. Pistol at his side, although he's low on bullets -- they're hard to find under the rubble.

"I would," he says carefully. A pause. "Intuition. I suppose that's how you know my name?"

He doesn't trust her. At all. Especially with the mysterious name-knowing.

"Perhaps," says Imriel flatly, "if you do not mean to startle people, appearing behind strangers through some mysterious power and addressing them by name is not the most advisable course of action."

A nod to Villiers, then: "That is, I confess, good advice," she admits ruefully. "I can still, to some diminishing extent, offer the excuse of being inexperienced in everyday human interaction."

Ish considers how well this meeting is going, and is less than pleased with the answer. Though, in deference to Imriel's suggestion, she resists the temptation to ask them not to shoot and/or swing swords at her.

Villiers would like to point something out.

"...I'm fairly certain that never led there before," he says. It's all pretty insane. He supposes a door that used to lead to the rest of the building suddenly leading outside isn't particularly odd, in the end.

"No doubt she has some form of magic."

Imri is jaded to these things by now.

"Magic is a useful term to apply to those phenomena which do not offer a ready explanation," she shrugs. It's neither a yes nor a no, because whether what she does is magic really depends on your point of view.

She sees it as perfectly normal, but then that's because it's what she is.

Anyway. Exposition time. She lays one hand lightly on a little grey key sticking out of the door. "I have come to take you to a protected area; most of this world is relatively unsafe. What you see behind me is a dwelling in that area."

"Or it could be an illusion," he says, hesitantly. Because if this Intuition person is right, there's someplace safe, and he would really, really like to go there. Live there. Not have to worry about making sure the building stays intact, since from the look of it, that farmhouse interior looks a hell of a lot more stable than this place.

"...I don't think it is."

He doesn't know why. He just... doesn't think so, somehow.

"It is not."

Ish tries to look reassuring.

"Admittedly, I'd really quite like to go someplace that isn't so dangerous," he says after a moment.

Internal flail. Imriel? You do stuff, 'kay? Villiers will just follow.

"Then for the moment we'll assume she's telling the truth."

At which point he grabs his sheathed sword from the table, twining the fingers of the other hand with Villiers' reassuringly.

"Thank you."

It's honestly meant: Ish (a) does not appreciate being suspected of lying and (b) is not overfond of the struggle to convince that she isn't.

"I will go ahead, if it will help."

Villiers is used to people lying. In fact, he often helps people lie -- it's his job.

It's his natural assumption when strange things happen. At least, when he's not too busy going WTF to be slightly paranoid.

"Ok."

Seeing that he's already got his weapon on him, he simply grabs his bag from beside the chair, once a briefcase, now a sewing kit.

In which case, Imri can nod and follow Ish through the door.

Might as well.

On its far side, the door is sombrely rustic, and Ish waits until they are both through before she closes it carefully and takes out the key, returning it to a slender chain around her neck.

Then she opens it again, to reveal...

...well, there's quite a lot of field. And a long dirt road. And what looks like a cruise-liner mating with a castle.

"This is generally known as the Cooper farm."

So they aren't dead yet. That tends to be a good thing.

But still. WTF.

"Name of Elua," says Imri in quiet D'Angeline.

"This place is strange. --But thank you."

"You are welcome," she says. "It is the manner in which I keep myself gainfully employed here."

Because you can't boink all day.

Unfortunately.

It's possible she's grinning a little at their various awed reactions. This is the fun part!

This time, it's Villiers that takes a tentative step out, just to make sure it's all, you know, real.

And turns, looking back at Intuition, still seeming utterly surprised. "Thank you," he says. "And...sorry for not believing you."

Imri squeezes Villiers' hand and grins.

Even if it's not safe here, there are people. And a house that looks to be actually functional.

It's not a problem wouldn't quite be true, so: "You do now," says Ish. "Do not worry about it."

It's not destroyed, this place. That's most certainly a good thing.

"...I hope Faith and Wendell don't try to go back to Montreal," he comments. "Where is this, anyway?"

"I'm sure they won't miss us."

"Kansas," supplies Ish.

"I am given to understand that this is in some way amusing, depending on your world of origin."

Apparently, it's amusing in Villiers' world, seeing that he gives a snort of amusement.

"Kansas? Really. It's like the reverse Wizard of Oz."