pullmeoutalive | log > for lack of a better place to do so

Entry tags:

log > for lack of a better place to do so

He had to wonder how it was that, if no one save a very, very select few could leave Whitechapel, he kept ending up elsewhere. Indeed, this wasn't the steam-driven, smog-choked section of city he called home. This was somewhere else entirely - and startlingly modern in comparison to the Victorian England he was so used to.

It was unseemly of him, but he found himself staring - tall buildings all steel and glass towered over him, and over that lay the clearest sky he'd seen in his entire life. The sun was bright, brighter that it had ever been in Whitechapel, with its constant overhang of smoke. All the better, he supposed, that he was wearing his usual attire, complete with dark glasses.

Alabaster stood alone on the street, a tall figure in smoke black stark against the clean, polished world he now found himself in. There seemed to be no one around. This city, if it was indeed a city and not some ludicrous dream, appeared to be deserted.

He reached into the pocket of his coat, fishing out a pocket watch. In this alien place, was Grandfather Clock - his God, and God over Whitechapel - still watching him through the clockface? Or had the connection been severed with his sudden disappearance?

Such things would be answered in due time, he told himself. For now, there was only the question of getting back. It wouldn't do to have Grandfather Clock's elite agent up and vanish in the middle of a rebellion, now would it?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He began piling ingredients on the counter - he wasn't about to concoct a gourmet breakfast or anything - he figured omelets would suffice. "At the moment, and for whatever reason, I do exist in this century."

There was silence for a while, save for the clattering of utensils and cupboards and pots and pans as he located what he needed, until he finally piped up, "Is your mother a demigod, or would that be your father?"

"That would be my mother. Like I said before, my grandmother married another man-- a human one. Mom was the only child she had with Hermes, so my uncles and all of my cousins are fully human." She sat down, resting her chin in her palms. "It's just our branch of the family that's... odd."

"Odd" might have been sugarcoating it a little, but even her blithe attitude towards it couldn't erase the names she and her family had been called over the years. "Freak" and "Witch" were only two of the most commonly-used ones.

"I see," came the reply as he set to work - things happening everywhere and all at once. Mixing, slicing, peeling, grating-- this was old hat for him now, but still somehow fun. For all of the pleasure he got out of serving Grandfather Clock, cooking was the only thing he did for himself.

Funny, she thought, watching him from the corner of her eye. Most people dreamed of having an extra pair of arms to help them get things accomplished, and here she was, witnessing someone who had not just one extra pair, but several. The way he moved was fluid, as if there was nothing easier than utilizing metal arms to do at least four different things at once.

And maybe to him, that was the truth.

It hadn't been easy learning, but he had faith that Grandfather Clock knew what He was doing when He handed out His gifts. For whatever reason, Alabaster had adapted well.

He didn't bother to make conversation again, fully absorbed in his task, until he slid a fully loaded plate in front of her and took one for himself.

She might have been about to say something, but curiosity (and hunger) prodded her to try the meal first-- and after that, she was eating much too happily to be able to muster any sort of response other than little noises of delight.

"This is really good!" She finally managed to enthuse, five minutes later.

There was that characteristic arch of an eyebrow again. "I would hope so, with the way you've been eating it," he remarked, slightly amused.

"Well, you never know, you might have doubts or something." Saga shook her fork at him in an attempt to be stern. "So now you can sleep easier at night, knowing you're an amazing cook!"

"Ah, yes," his tone was dry, but there was a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "I was so worried about that." With a bit of a chuckle, he rose from the table and made himself busy cleaning up.

There was no point in dignifying that with a response, and so she didn't; she might have muttered something under her breath about never being too careful, but it wasn't anything loud enough to be heard. The notes were pulled towards her, and she once again fell to staring at them intently and ignoring a growing headache the longer she perused them.

Alabaster busied himself cleaning up the kitchen, which, he realized, was a little ironic, but he had no complaints. He piled up dishes and put things away a little unlike the way he'd prepared breakfast, his own two hands did most of the work. "I take it from your little outburst earlier that you haven't been able to find the rune?" He remarked casually, as he rinsed off their plates in the sink.

The question was greeted with a low groan of frustration, which would have been answer enough, but she decided to elaborate nonetheless.

"No. I know it's there, I just can't exactly pinpoint where it is, or even when it is, and it's being--"

Each and every time, she wished she could have had a little more forewarning but, as usual, she wasn't that fortunate. Instead, the sharp jolt of pain of senses colliding with that sudden spark of magic resulted in her just barely biting back a cry and instead doubling over where she sat with her fingers gripping her head.

Really, she couldn't help thinking dimly, there had to be a less painful way for the runes to notify her of their presence.

"Saga?" The dishes were quickly forgotten, and Alabaster was... well, to be frank, he was looking a little awkward, but plainly concerned. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened, nor did he know what to do about it. Well, standing there dumbly wasn't helping. "Saga? What is it?"

Talking wasn't the easiest thing for someone who felt as if her head was going to split open with the slightest movement, but Saga made a valiant effort, still hunched over and grimacing.

"I-it's... here. Kind of... close, but... I need... to--"

She broke off again with another wince as the pain intensified in one big swell, waiting for it to die down again before she could manage a little more coherency.

It wasn't often that Alabaster felt totally, utterly useless, but here he was just standing there. She had to mean the rune, though why it was causing her so much pain he didn't know.

The girl remained in her cramped position, breathing shallowly through her mouth, and transferring her fingers from her head to the edge of the table.

"I'll... be right back." In one quick movement, she'd heaved herself to an upright and standing position and was now wobbling towards the front door with a resigned expression that stated she'd been through this many times before.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. If this was indeed the rune, which he guessed it was, there was no way he was just going to let her wander off by herself. Not that he thought she couldn't take care of herself - she'd been doing this sort of thing long before he was here - but if this was his ticket home where was no way in hell he was going to miss it. Snatching a jacket off the back of the couch, he followed her to the door.

She was half-aware of his presence as she slipped outside, but there were other things to worry about other than a tagalong-- like walking in a straight line, or pinpointing the location. The truth was, there was only one fact that she knew at the moment, and that was that Raidho was definitely present in this time, in this city. But she didn't know whether it was going to drop something (or someone) else here before disappearing, or whether it was willingly choosing to show itself.

He was content to keep his distance and let her do her job. He vaguely remembered his clothes and his effects still in the shopping bag at Saga's apartment, but he figured if he was indeed going to be sent home right now, he could come by more weapons easily.

"... You don't have to come." The pain was fading slowly, and Saga paused to prop herself against the side of the same store from yesterday, glancing over her shoulder at Alabaster. "Even if I can subdue it today and gain control of it, I won't be able to send you back for at least another two days. I'll probably be just a little incapacitated."

"I've come this far," he replied with a shrug. "May as well see it through. I'll take care to stay out of your way." Besides, if the stupid thing incapacitated her, how was she supposed to get home?

She'd have to hold him to that; she was trusting enough to take him at his word without having to ask him to swear to it. That, and just around the corner--

"Thurisaz!" One finger came up to draw three sharp lines into the air-- the shape she left glowed red, and the air before it exploded, almost as if whatever was attacking had just hit some sort of wall.

Alabaster hung back, tensed and ready to spring. He'd said he'd stay out of her way, and he would, so long as the rune didn't bring anyone - or anything - with it that had... less-than-friendly intentions.

He had to admit, though, Saga's magic was impressive. He'd never seen anything like it, and until yesterday, he wouldn't have thought it possible.

Well, if they made it through this little errand unscathed, he'd be sure to tell her so.

If they stayed unscathed, indeed-- a prospect that didn't seem all that likely, given the shape that remained when the smoke cleared.

Saga stared at her newest adversary with a look that could have only been labeled as exasperated. "You've got to be kidding. It could have been anything else, and it had to send me the Calydonian Boar." Granted, it had been in her notes that the boar was significant to Raidho, but why on earth did it have to drag the bloodthirsty Grecian legend here? It couldn't have just settled for the average pig, but now here she was, staring down an enraged (and gigantic) boar with narrowed eyes and dangerously pointed tusks.

This just wasn't her week.

"The what boar?" And can I kill it? He wants to add, but thinks better of it for now. Whatever it was, it wasn't supposed to be here, of that much he was certain.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject