shatterverse | (no subject)

A black Ford F-350 pickup truck moves along a narrow unpaved road towards the Cooper Farm. The exterior is a mess of cracked glass, dents, bullet holes, scratched paintwork and mud spatter, but it seems to be running smoothly. In the back, a more pristine-looking motorbike is held in place by bungee cords and a large pile of duffel bags, gas cans and other outdoor survival gear. There's also a tool box behind the cab, containing a sizable arsenal of guns, explosives and ammunition, and one very hi-tech bow. It's clear that this vehicle has been on the road for quite some time.

Jamie's at the wheel, keeping a sedate speed and tapping along lazily to a Steve Miller Band song. Eleanor is dozing in the passenger seat, feet up on the dashboard.

Since their arrival and subsequent alien encounter in Nebraska eight months ago, the two of them have conducted a fairly thorough tour of the United States: northerly parts in the fall and warmer climes during the winter. In that time, Jamie has learnt how to drive automatics and stick shifts, and Eleanor has figured out what his 'episodes' are, and how best to control them. They've roughed it at times, at others they've taken advantage of civilian abandonment, and there've been plenty of monsters, fights and adventures along the way. It was only a few days ago that Jamie accidentally tuned in to Barbara's automated radio transmission and discovered the existence of the Kansas safe-zone. They decided to check it out.

The truck hits a deep pothole as it enters the main yard of the farm. Eleanor's head thumps against the side window, jarring her awake.

"...Ow," she mumbles, eyes still closed. "Nice road. Are we there yet?"

[OOC: Two pups, two muns. Tag either or both.]

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"I'm sure I could come up with something," she grins, still watching the boy curiously. There's something a bit. . . off about him. She can't put her finger on it. The girl is equally odd but at least she's easier to read.

The head patting grates on his already raw nerves. Normally he'd laugh and find it amusing, taking it as affectionate teasing and giving the same right back, but at this moment it comes off as condescending. He's not a pet dog. He's not a pet anything.

Uncharacteristic anger flickers across his features. For some hazy, ill-defined reason, Jamie doesn't want this woman to form that impression of him.

He nods at Red's outfit. "Do you ride?"

Don't worry, she's not likely to think he's a pet when she can feel the emotion bubbling up inside him.

"I do, yes," she says, and lets out a piercing whistle. The sort that you would think would require two fingers to the mouth, but she manages it with just her lips. There's the sound of hoofbeats coming around the corner, and a magnificent chestnut stallion comes into view, approaching the little group and pushing his head lovingly into War's shoulder. His back, to anyone who can tell, shows no signs of ever having borne a saddle - his coat is un-blemished.

"This is my beautiful boy."

Eleanor finally twigs on to the blatant flirtation, and snorts.

She isn't particularly interested by the arrival of the woman's steed. Her preferred ride has the power of many horses. That being said, she knows Jamie will love this, so she humors the situation with a smile.

"Very nice," she coos.

Red and the stallion are a matched set. Its arrival unglues Jamie's feet and propels him forward, his stride stiff.

"He's handsome," says Jamie. "My mother used to have a warhorse with a coat that color."

Raising his hand to pat the horse's neck, he first looks to Red for permission. This close, he can't help but notice her eyes.

They're hard to miss - being orange. Deep, reddish orange, almost brown but not quite.

Red nods - although, it's not to him, it's to the horse. He is to please not be biting off the arm of her interesting new acquaintance.

"You're more a fan of the sort of horse that has wheels, I think?" She asks Eleanor.

"That obvious, huh?" Eleanor replies, still smiling.

She gestures at the beautiful black Honda VTX1800 that's still strapped into the bed of the truck. Considering what it's been through, the chrome work is still amazingly shiny.

"That's my baby. Gotta love the retro."

Staring at Red, Jamie strokes the horse's neck, fingers brushing through its silky mane.

He wants to reach over and do the same to its owner.

His nostrils flare at the thought, mixed in as it is with everything else. Usually the images, feelings, smells come on fast, overpowering him, and are over in a few minutes. Usually the smell of brimstone isn't faintly seductive.

He stays silent, waiting.

The horse whickers and side-steps nervously when he touches it, but War's hand on his neck gentles him down.

"Easy, boy,", she tells him, in Ancient Greek of all languages. When her steed is a horse, it's the best language to use. He is the hippos purros after all. Otherwise, she tends to swear at him in whatever language is current wherever she is, cars, bikes and planes wouldn't understand Ancient Greek.

She smiles at James, the sort of smile that says 'I know what you're thinking'.

Good. Someone really should, and his thoughts make little to no sense to him.

"Where are you from?" he finds himself asking.

"An Earth," she says. "There's no standard nomenclature for which one, which has started to seem a bit annoying."

She cocks her head at him, and narrows her eyes slightly, nostrils flaring.

"You?"

An Earth.

Jamie absorbs this with an intent look, like he's picking apart the possibilities in his head.

"Tortall," he answers eventually. "And Earth, though I haven't been since I was a baby."

His accent is a curious blend of Tortall and Tadfield. It comes of spending most of his time with his father.

An Earth. . . nah. That would just be too convenient. But then, War has never discounted the laws of narrative causality, so it is possible. Could the Young boy have had. . . an older brother? An Uncle? The kid isn't old enough to be his father. It will occur to her later that time needn't have passed as she'd expect it to.

"Tortall?" She asks. "I haven't heard of that one."

"No, probably not. We have horses like this, not that," says Jamie, as he nods his head towards the motorbike. "Kings and knights, swords and arrows. Not an engine in sight."

He steps away from her stallion, looks her in the eye and promptly winces like he has a horrible headache.

"It's a sort of medieval world," Eleanor chips in, before her presence is totally forgotten. "They have magic too."

"I'm from an alternate Earth, but I know of it."

She seems a little distracted, and she has been ever since Red steadied her horse. As such, she misses Jamie's facial reaction.

"Are you a god?" she asks in the same Ancient Greek, somewhat out of the blue. Her accent is poor and the enunciation is a little off, but she's got the basics.