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Current Location: US 34, Western Iowa

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(no subject)

It starts the usual way: A flash, a bang, a person standing, disoriented, near a long stretch of deserted road.

But this man falls to his knees-

(thousands of voices; screaming, crying in his head; anger and despair and everything in between, and he can’t fight, can’t ignore, can’t resist them; stop, stop, Goddess why won’t it STOP)

-and clutches his head, letting loose an agonized shout of surprise.

Then it's over, and it's like it never was.

Jamie lowers his hands, noticing in a detached manner that short strands of blond hair come away in his fingers, and sits back on his haunches, blinking. The last thing he remembers is laughing at a joke -- a bad one, with three tavern wenches and a statue -- and climbing a ladder to get at the apples high in an Olau tree. His shirt still smells like the orchard: sun and fruit and green, growing things. Had he fallen? Is this a fevered hallucination brought on by his broken body and healing magic gone wrong? Grace never could get the hang of it. She’s probably given him an extra thumb.

No. All’s right with that.

Digging his fingers into the earth beside the road, he watches it sift back to the ground. It's chunky and rough, but not dry. Even so, it's clearly not the smooth, dark soil of Olau. Jamie sniffs his hand, frowns and pulls himself to his feet. The road crests a hill to the west. Maybe there's something on the other side to explain what's happened; maybe not. Nothing to do, he supposes, but to start walking.

He'll get back to the pain (voices) in his head later. When the mood strikes.

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Luckily for him, Jamie comes from a world without electricity and can still see his way reasonably well. An exaggerated wince crosses his face as soon as she turns away from him, and he gives his leg a shake. Verdict: He'll live.

"I don't, you know," he says mildly, his long legs allowing him to catch up in a hurry. "Hate you."

The grin he aims in her direction is very cheeky.

"I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be with at the moment."

"Lucky me," Eleanor deadpans.

While there's no answering grin, she can't keep a smirk off her face.

She draws his arm around her waist again. "You probably ought to show it. We're just out for an evening stroll and a breath of night air as far as anyone else is concerned."

He complies, squeezing gently.

"Aye. Best to keep up appearances." A task he has no trouble taking on. "Look, there's another small building there."

A greenhouse, or garden shed.

"Ooh. Let's check it out. It could be another clue!" Eleanor bubbles. Her hushed enthusiasm is so exaggerated that it has to be fake.

As for the structure, it turns out to be a rickety wooden shed that has definitely seen better days. The timbers look rotten and cracked in many places and there are some unpleasantly large cobwebs wreathing its eaves.

Eleanor wrinkles her nose as they near it. "Kinda creepy."

In punishment, he slides a finger under her waistband for a slow caress.

"Mmmmm."

Eyes narrowing, he breaks away and gives the door a good shove. It creaks open in a shower of dust, and Jamie covers his nose and mouth to avoid coughing.

"What a mess," he declares, entering. And it is, even for a little used shed. He's vaguely scandalized at the state of the few tools he sees: rusty, filthy and covered in webs. Beyond a dirty rake, he finds a pile of similarly neglected clothing, though some appears cleaner and brighter than the rest. "Clothes? I hope this shirt didn't come from here."

Appeased (and encouraged) by Jamie's little display of affection, Eleanor continues to go along with his detective work. She follows him into the shed, bathing everything in the soft flickering light from her lamp.

"It might have," she chuckles unconcernedly.

She proceeds to pick a few garments up from the jumble of apparel and inspect them. There are all kinds of items, catering for men, women and children. And there's a whole range of different sizes. Casual wear, active wear, formal wear, and professional attire: each has representation in the pile.

"Weird," the blonde comments. "Half of this stuff can't possibly be theirs."

She quirks an eyebrow at Jamie.

"Stealing credit cards makes sense. But clothes that don't even fit you? That's kleptomaniac territory."

Jamie blinks blankly at her, a red wool cardigan in his hand. The light catches it, revealing an appliqued reindeer and an unfortunate abundance of shoulder pads. Suddenly, he's very thankful for his black shirt and jeans.

"Is this what passes for fashion in your world?"

Edited 2008-10-16 04:36 (UTC)

"Ewww, no!" Eleanor snorts.

"That had to belong to an old person. No-one under the age of seventy would voluntarily wear it." She drops the musty clothing she'd been investigating back onto the pile and nods sagely. "Possibly a novelty Christmas present, or a gift from a clueless grandma."

"It needs to be incinerated."

She plays the lamp around the rest of the shed, searching for any other oddities. On a nearby shelf a shoe box grabs her attention. It's less dusty than most of the other things in here, and not particularly weathered. Standing on her tip-toes, she flips the lid off and peers in.

"Woah! Check this out, AJ."

The carton is home to a hodge-podge of rings, necklaces, and other pieces of jewelry, as well as a number of watches and several different pairs of spectacles.

Coming up behind her, Jamie lets out a low whistle.

"You'd think their owners would alert the law." A frown. "If there's any law left."

A feasible explanation finally presents itself to Eleanor.

"Unless the owners aren't around any more," she postulates.

"Maybe our family are just scavengers. Or maybe people don't always escape the trees. The family dispose of the bodies somehow, but keep the personal effects."

She shrugs.

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"Maybe they expect others to come looking for them," he says, taking the suggestion a step further.

It's plausible. So why doesn't it feel right?

Jamie rubs his forehead, then looks up sharply at the muffled sound of a house door slamming.

In a low voice: "We should go."

He's suddenly exhausted.

Eleanor nods her agreement, on both counts. She's not totally satisfied either, but she puts the lid back on the box and quickly accompanies him out of the shed. Funny how that limp of hers doesn't seem to be much in evidence at the moment.

Soon enough the door is shut and they're innocently strolling again.

"Can we please go to bed now?" she asks.

She's tired too. But not so tired that she wants to go straight to sleep...

"That would be best," Jamie agrees, but there's a tightness around his mouth that wasn't there before.

His head is hurting again, in new and weird ways.

Slinging an arm around her shoulders, he walks the rest of the way without comment.

"Finally," is the only thing Eleanor says.

Once the gear from the bike is collected and the couple have retired to their alloted room, Eleanor heads straight out to brush her teeth and change into the over-sized T-shirt again, amongst other pre-bedtime tasks. Having grown up with a sister, Jamie should be used to waiting for the bathroom.

"It's all yours," she announces absently when she returns ten minutes later.

She's busy adjusting the bandage on her leg as she walks in, so it's a few seconds before the lack of reply from Jamie causes her to look up.

Eleanor obviously has an overgenerous idea of what constitutes a bathroom in Tortall. Jamie had frowned after her when she left as soon as they arrived back in their room, but the ache in his head prevented him from making a clever quip. A dull grunt was about all he could manage. Absently, he picked through some of the items they'd carted in from her bike. Half of them confused him. The other half made him smile.

Yawning, he'd peeled off his shirt and stretched out on the bed, where the events of the day crashed heavily into him and he'd promptly fallen asleep.

...still holding Eleanor's teddy bear under his uninjured arm.

"Are you fucking kidding me," Eleanor growls, hands on her hips.

She's torn. On the one hand she wants to wake him instantly (and fairly violently), such is her intense sexual frustration. He promised stuff! And she really really wants to collect.

On the other hand, it's been a hard day for both of them. And he looks adorable. Her rarely seen compassionate side wants to let him be, and just crawl into bed next to him.

In the end, she humphs loudly, but opts to be nice. She'll collect what is owed to her in the morning. Several times over! It'll be better then anyway.

His shoes and socks are removed, and after a moment of deliberation, his jeans are too. Covers are then eased out from under him and laid back over the top. Finally, she climbs in and cruelly dispossesses him of the stuffed animal. That's a big no no. Only Eleanor gets to snuggle with Bear. Jamie will just have to make do with spooning a gorgeous female body instead. She's sure he won't mind.

"Sleep well, jerk," she whispers, and presses a fond kiss to his temple.

It's not long before sleep takes her too. All the way through the night... (http://community.livejournal.com/shatterverse/181137.html?thread=13930641#t13930641)

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