bigapplesauce | [CLOSED] EDGAR'S ARRIVAL

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[CLOSED] EDGAR'S ARRIVAL

Lying there in the semidark, Edgar stares at the solitary lit lightbulb at the far end of the kennel and thinks about being alone. Hay in the bales that comprises his makeshift bed pokes at his back through the thin material of his shirt, but the sensation doesn't bother him. It makes him feel more aware, makes the situation seem more real. Bending his knees, he puts his feet flat on the bale and digs his toes into the stiff hay. Almondine shifts beside him, and he runs a hand down her back until she goes still again.

He listens to the sounds of the night, sounds of the barn settling around him and of the creatures outside scuttling around its borders like foreign territory they dare not trespass. The sounds normally soothe him, but his mind is too busy working over all the changes the day has brought to let them lull him to sleep. Just across the yard and seemingly a thousand miles away, his mother sleeps restlessly, the medicines they picked up earlier hopefully running their course. Edgar can't remember the last time they've been apart; certainly not since his father died. In the barn, dogs rustling in the darkness, he is truly alone for the first time in months. The thought is like a surge of fresh air after being trapped under a blanket.

He is alone, and it feels good. He is going to take care of things, all by himself, and that feels good, too. He won't be reliant on anyone, and that feels best of all.

He can do it. He can take care of the kennel and the dogs and his mother and everything will be just fine. A grim determination fills him, along with something like hope, or maybe peace.

Edgar closes his eyes and watches lights dance across his eyelids. Somewhere in the dark to his left, one of the dogs whimpers and another answers it with a short, puppy-like howl.

/Quiet,/ he signs in their direction. /Go to sleep./

The whimpering stops. Almondine noses his open palm, and Edgar lets his hand run over her head and shoulders before burying it in the fluff on her chest. She nestles into his side once more and with a final sigh lays her head against his leg.

Edgar falls asleep with the smell of hay and dogs surrounding him, the buoy of possibility lifting his spirits higher than they have been in a long while.

When he wakes, the first thing he notices is that Almondine is not beside him. More than the lack of warmth or the weight of her body, her absence, the sensation it produced, is a subconscious realization before he even opens his eyes. The sun blinding him from directly overhead is his second observation.

/Almondine,/ he signs. He claps his other hand to his thigh without sitting up, then uses it to cover his eyes against the sun as he signs again. /Almondine, come here./

Then the fact that there is sun on his face finally makes its way into his groggy mind and he sits bolt upright. There is no way sun could be hitting him in the face. He is in the barn, by the kennels. Kennels he can no longer smell. Somewhat trepidatious about what he might find, Edgar drops his hand and glances around in utter bewilderment. He is lying in browning grass amid a stand of trees. The sky above him is overcast, the thin clouds reminiscent of early winter. But it's summer, he thinks. The chill in the air belies the thought and he pulls his legs to his chest, tucking his bare feet as close to his body as he can.

Glancing around at his unfamiliar surroundings, he spots Almondine slipping through the trees.

/Where were you?/ he signs.

Almondine watches him with serious eyes, and Edgar feels his heart pound once, heavily, against his ribcage. When she lies down nearly on top of his feet, Edgar lets her.

It's cold and he has no idea where he is. Or how far he is going to have to walk.

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"Almondine." Daine smiles--that's fair pretty--but she sobers at the dog's question. "It's not far to the base," she reassures them, starting back toward the path at as brisk a pace as she thinks Edgar can handle. It's a lucky coincidence that they were dropped so close. Daine had actually backtracked along her walking route to find them, so it shouldn't take more than a few minutes before they're indoors.

"We're in New York," she adds, since that's one of the first questions most new arrivals have. "In America. On Earth." She doubts that last bit is really necessary, but she knows better than to assume. "And it's January 22nd, 2013."

Edgar is so stunned, he stops dead and stares at her.

New York? January? 2013? That doesn't make any sense. And why does she feel the need to clarify "In America. On Earth."?

His pause is short, so Daine hasn't stopped, and he quick steps to catch up to her.

Daine slows a little until he catches up, biting back a wince at his reaction. When she'd arrived, none of that information had meant anything to her (though being told she was in a country she'd never heard of before had unsettled her plenty). Edgar must be from a realm similar enough to this one to recognize the names and dates, though judging by his expression, they're not at all what he thinks they should be.

"It's the rift," she explains. "It takes folk from other realms--and other times--and dumps them here. It's how I got here, too."

Edgar nods, and though he understands what she's saying, he doesn't entirely understand what she means. Thirty years into the future? Or maybe not even the future at all?

Almondine seems to have noticed his mental turmoil, because she presses up against his legs as they walk. Edgar frees a hand from the coat and reaches down to brush it over her head.

He meets Daine's eyes, then glances around as if looking for something, then looks back at Daine and cocks an eyebrow.

Daine furrows her brow at him, not quite understanding. "The base, where we're going? It's not far." They're already at the edge of the park, and Daine leads them towards the one intersection they'll have to cross before heading underground. "Watch your step," she advises, keeping an eye out for broken glass.

Edgar nods, glad to have gotten his point across, however shakily. If he is going to be here for an extended period of time, he's going to have to start teaching people how to sign, and quickly. Or find some paper. Otherwise asking questions will be difficult.

He watched Daine out of the corner of his eye, and glances down at Almondine.

Or I can just have Almondine translate, he thinks with bemusement.

"The whole thing's underground," Daine explains, leaning towards Edgar and lowering her voice so she's not being overheard by all and sundry. "The door's in the subway."

They reach the intersection, and she waits for the lights to turn. She's getting better about crossing, though she still can't help frowning dubiously at the cars. She never quite trusts them to stay put when the light's red, and she'd rather be on her toes and look silly than ignore them and end up bruised (or worse).

The light changes, and she heads across the street, Sarge pressed up against her for support that she'd never admit to needing. "Nearly there," she says for Edgar's benefit.

Edited 2013-03-08 03:28 (UTC)

As they reach the far curb, Edgar ponders the distrustful glances she had thrown at the stopped vehicles. It was an unusual reaction - even the dogs on their farm in the middle of practically nowhere knew about cars.

The thought of the farm makes his chest ache, and he walks a bit faster as if to escape it.

To distract himself, he studies where they are, making mental note of the landmarks, in case he ever needs to find his way again.

Daine hustles down the steps, arms wrapped around herself in a vain attempt to ward off the cold. When she reaches the door, she knocks sharply.

Phil opens it, casting a weary but unsurprised look at Almondine and a more suspicious look at Edgar.

"Phil, this is Edgar and Almondine. They both came through," she says, stressing the word 'both' in the hopes of avoiding a lecture about taking in strays. Phil steps back to let them through, and Daine quickly slips inside, glancing back to make sure Edgar's still with her.

"We can get you some shoes and things," she says as she leads him down the long, mostly empty corridors that lead to the base proper, "and some food, if you're hungry. Or--can you write? We could get some paper and a pen so you can ask questions." She lifts a shoulder. "Which would you like, first?"

Edgar is feeling a little hungry, but that is by far the least of his concerns. He weighs his options before deciding that clothing should be first.

/Shoes first,/ he signs, pointing down at his bare feet. /Then paper./ He pantomimes writing. /Then food./ He makes eating motions. He points to Almondine and raises his eyebrows. /For Almondine, too?/ He makes the eating motion again and points to her.

Daine nods, smiling. "Shoes, then questions, then food--for both of you. Come on."

The clothing is easy enough to sort out. Daine steers Edgar toward the storeroom. "Try not to stare at Howard," she murmurs to him as they approach the front counter. She rings a little bell, and a few moments later, a human-sized, anthropomorphic duck appears from behind some shelves and favors them with a bored blink.

"Hullo, Howard," she says with a polite smile. "Edgar needs some shoes. A sweatshirt probably wouldn't go amiss, either."

Howard gives Edgar a pensive once-over, then disappears into the storeroom. A few minutes later, he reappears with a small bundle of clothes tucked under one arm and a pair of shoes dangling from the other. He wordlessly plunks them on the counter.

Edgar's doing his best not to stare. Or at least he thinks he is. It's hard to tell exactly what he's doing since his brain seems to have shut down, but he is at least trying to avert his eyes at a normal rate.

Howard is a duck. A very large duck.

Daine can talk to Almondine. He's in 2013. A duck has just given him clothing.

There has been a niggling suspicion in the back of Edgar's mind since he woke up that this is just a dream. Somehow, the sight of an anthropomorphic duck, absurd as it is, has completely convinced him otherwise. Suddenly feeling numb, he scoops the shoes and clothes off of the counter and nods his thanks.

"Thanks," Daine says, before heading in the direction of her little apartment. It's as good a place as any for them to talk, and she wants to sit.

"This is my room," she explains as she unclips the dogs' leashes and shoves open the door. "They could give you one, too, if you like; otherwise, there are apartments in a different building."

Shadow the cat lifts his head when they walk in, his expression making it clear just how unimpressed he is by the introduction of yet another dog, though he doesn't seem concerned enough to get up.

No fighting, Daine says, as much a reminder as an order. She loops the leashes over the end of her bed, then crosses to her desk. A little rummaging turns up a notebook and a pen, which she offers to Edgar. Then she sits on the bed, Molly hopping up beside her. Shadow rises, stretches, and then climbs up onto Daine's shoulders, draping himself around her neck as Molly curls up in Daine's lap.

As Sarge sits beside Daine's legs, she makes a vague hand gesture. "Feel free to sit anywhere." There's a desk chair, or there's plenty of room on the bed.

Edgar's mind is too much of a whirl to formulate a question, so he buys himself some time by pulling on the socks and shoes he's just been given. Though they're inside now, the building they're in appears to be almost entirely underground. There's a chill to the air, so he pulls on the sweatshirt as well. He's only a little surprised to find that both the shoes and the sweatshirt fit more or less perfectly. Of course Howard the duck knows his size. Of course.

Once he's dressed, he picks up the notebook and pen once again. He starts to pull out the desk chair to sit there, but decides to sit beside Daine on the bed instead. That way she will be able to see what he is writing as he goes, which might save him from having to write so much.

He lowers himself onto the bed, taking care with his movements since he isn't sure how the three animals around Daine might react to him. They seem comfortable enough with his presence though, and once he is settled he signs to Almondine.

/Come./

Respectful of the others, she keeps close to the desk as she walks over to sit on the opposite side of him from Daine. Edgar strokes her head, finding comfort in her familiar presence, as he ponders what to ask first. There is so much he wants to know, so much he doesn't understand, that he isn't sure where to begin.

Finally, he scribbles down a question he thinks will help him understand more about the situation.

How many of us are there here?

Edited 2013-03-09 01:32 (UTC)

She smiles encouragingly as Edgar sits down, and Molly wags her tail. Then she cranes her neck to read what he's written, and sighs.

"Hundreds," she says bluntly, lifting one hand to scratch Shadow's chin. "That's what I've been told. I don't think anyone knows for certain, because the folk who come through don't all end up at the same place. But the rift has been at it for years, now."

Hundreds. It's incredible, and disheartening. If there are so many, if it's been happening for so long, that must mean no one knows how to stop it. And --

Can I get back home? he writes.

"Not yet," Daine replies. "A bunch of folk are working on it, though," she adds hastily, because she hasn't lost hope and isn't about to squash his. "Like Bruce--he's awfully clever, and he only just got here. Given a bit more time, I'm sure they'll figure it out." And that's assuming one of her friends doesn't find her even sooner.

Edgar can tell she's convincing herself as much as him. There's real hope in her voice, though, and he feels his spirits lift slightly. He gives her a small smile and a determined nod. They will get home.

Then Almondine noses his hand, and as he reaches to pet her, he remembers.

His mother. The kennel. He had simply been wanting to go back home, back to where he belongs, where he wants to be. Now he remembers that he needs to go back, and go back now.

Suddenly agitated, he scribbles furiously.

When? When will they figure it out? Do they have any idea?

Daine had thought she'd managed to cheer Edgar up a bit, so the sudden flurry of scribbling is an unpleasant surprise. Molly lifts her head and casts an anxious glance between Edgar and Daine as he's writing, and Daine strokes the sort fur behind her ears, wishing humans were as easy for her to soothe.

When he's done writing, she leans over to read. It takes her a bit longer this time--his agitated scrawl isn't as legible as his previous questions--and then she sighs. "I don't know," she says, doing her best to clamp down on her own frustration over how long this is taking. "And I don't think they do, either."

Edgar feels anger and frustration building inside him, so he takes a deep breath through his nose and releases it. Then he takes another.

There isn't anything he can do about the situation, and getting angry won't help anything. And Daine's been nothing but nice; there's no reason she should have to bear the brunt of his frustration. She's as much a victim of circumstance as he.

In fact, as he looks at her, he wonders what her story is.

Where are you from? he writes. How long have you been here?

His frustration isn't lost on any of the room's other occupants. Daine watches him, worried, as he gets himself under control. Sarge lets out a low whine and rests a paw on Edgar's knee for a moment.

"I've been here for..." she pauses and does a mental count, then lets out a rather shaky and humorless laugh. "Goddess, it's almost been a month, now. And I'm from Tortall," she adds with a smile that's half wince. He won't recognize the name; no one else does, so why would he? "It's very different from here. It's a bit like this realm's medieval era, except for there's more magic in my realm."

Edgar knows the tension in the room jumped up several notches because of his reaction, so he tries to alleviate it. Besides which, under his continuing frustration and concern, he's curious.

Magic? Is that why you can talk to dogs?

She nods, her smile turning a bit more genuine. "Yes. I have wild magic--it lets me talk to any animal. I can heal them, too, if they're hurt. And shapeshift." Normally, she wouldn't spring the whole caboodle on someone all at once, but her eagerness to steer the conversation into less troubled waters makes her babble.

Edgar stares at her. Talking to animals he can understand. He can talk to the dogs; Daine just seems to be able to have more of a conversation.

But healing them? And, did she just say--

Shapeshift?

"Yes." She considers proving it, then decides she should probably ask, first. She's never actually seen herself shift, but she imagines it might look a bit unsettling. "I can show you, if you'd like."

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