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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"And I'm Eleanor," his companion adds, seizing on the chance to move past the recognition issue.

"What's the deal here?"

Clark was expecting a little bit more cloth in there. Yikes. It might explain why his cheeks are so red. Well, that and the fact that he has a girl...friend...thingie. Who might or might not be having his baby.

Moving on!

Clark shifts his gaze to Jamie, cause it might be easier. "The deal is, well, we're sort of a ..." He sighs. "There's no official deal. But, we have a bunker, and some other stuff if you need a place to stay, and we kinda just take in people. Mainly the ones who are..." He coughs embaresedly. "Different."

There's something like sympathy on Jamie's face. Eleanor has made him blush a time or two as well, though he's usually laughing at the same time.

And he looks like he might start laughing now.

"Different as in not from this world?"

"And then some, usually." Clark isn't quite sure how to make it clear. "People who are used to ... having adventures."

Eleanor looks bemused. She's not being particularly frank, and she's not flirting outrageously. Why is Clark blushing?

"Well, that's us alright," she reveals. "I'm from an alternate Earth, and Jamie's from a totally different world called Tortall. We've been traveling round the US in this world for about eight months."

"There've been plenty of adventures."

It's probably best she doesn't know. Of course the way she emphasizes plenty, well, makes him blush again. "The, ah, more mundane folk who have emigrated to Kansas don't always get along with those of us who are so different."

Technically, Tortall is a country. Jamie hasn't stopped to consider what to call his world. But either way, his home is very, very different from this place.

"How many people are here?"

And what are the chances any of them are from Tortall?

Clark glances around the farm, peering through walls. "A few dozen at the moment."

"So it's a commune, basically?" Eleanor hazards. "Claim a bunk and help out a bit to earn your keep."

She's okay with that, for a short while at least.

Clark turns the idea over in his head before nodding. "Pretty much, yeah."

After watching Clark with a curiously intent look for a few moments, Jamie breaks out in a wide grin and spreads his hands out to the side.

"Well," he says, "it sounds like a delightful change of pace. I can help you in the fields, if you wish. I'm something of a farmer."

It sounds the way some people say they dabble in the arts or take up riding for fun, but his eyes are serious. His words and tone of voice are a conditioned response to the prevalent court opinion that farming is no hobby for a noble.

Another farmer would be nice. Most of the 'adventurer' crowd aren't that good at it. "Glad to have you on board then. What do you usually grow?"

"Grapes for wine, and apples."

Olau produces exceptional beverages.

He smiles and adds, "But I've some experience with wheat, as well."

"Excellent, good to hear. You'll be a welcome addition, I'm sure." Any food they make will be useful. Especially to Metropolis.

"I can... hunt," Eleanor offers. She'd rather not get roped into the physical farm labor side of things.

"And I'm pretty good with engines and mechanics."

"We've got a bunch of the fixit types around, I'm sure they'll find you something to do." Clark doesn't do much with machines.

Neither does Jamie, but he sure likes to watch Eleanor.

"Do you have," he starts, then looks around the farm, "barracks?"

He has no better word for it.

Clark gestures. "There's a bunker over there, got a buncha beds." At least, thats what he's been told.

"Ooh. Dorm-style."

Smirking heavily, she turns her gaze onto Jamie.

"You're gonna have to be a bit less vocal during sex. Can you handle that?"

Jamie slowly turns to look at her, eyes warm. Mildly: "I can, though it would help if you trimmed your nails."

This is one of many such conversations he'd never have in Tortall. Underneath the amusement he's still a bit baffled, like a scientist with a specimen that doesn't fit where it should.

To Clark: "Thank you."

Clark averts his gaze. "Ahem. Yes. You're welcome."

"Yeah. Thanks," Eleanor says, after a snicker at Jamie's comeback.

She gives Clark's torso another unsubtle ogle, and sighs happily.

"I guess we'll let you get back to work. We should go look around a bit."

"Ah...yah." Clark turns, glances back at once, and then procedes to return to his task.