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

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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?

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"Thanks." The smile was returned with a brighter one of her own, even if she was still tired. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting this long. Was everything okay?"

"For the most part." No need to bring up his adventures with Mr. Coffee, he figured. He hadn't broken the thing, so it wasn't a pressing matter. "It was sort of like a little vacation."

Duff had been waiting for Saga to settle down, and now leapt lightly onto her lap. She allowed this, resting a hand on his head and gently scratching behind one ear as he made himself comfortable. "And it looks like you got in some reading time, too. I didn't think Greek mythology was that enthralling for too many people."

Alabaster moved into the kitchen. He filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove, chuckling at Saga's remark. "Yes, well. Any amount of time in your company would be enough to spark anyone's interest."

"I'm going to hope that was a compliment," came the dry response, already distracted as she reached for her notes and a pen to start jotting down what she'd learned about her newest rune. Hurts like hell was obviously out of the question, but she wondered if it was wise to include rabid boars and guys who bled oil-- if she'd seen correctly, and that hadn't been her eyes playing tricks on her.

It was no surprise that Alabaster had become quite familiar with her kitchen in the past couple of days. He moved around easily, putting dishes away, locating a mug or two for tea. "Would you like anything?" He glanced over his shoulder at Saga.

Saga lifted her eyes, more than a little amused at how quickly Alabaster had adjusted; from the way he was bustling about the kitchen, it felt like he'd lived here a lot longer than five days. He probably wanted to get back as quickly as possible, though, and she'd recovered her strength; she could send him there now.

"Just toss me an apple, and I'll be fine," she answered quietly. "I probably don't want to try sending you back on an empty stomach."

He gave her a bit of a surprised look before complying. He hadn't expected her to be ready to try sending him back right after she just woke up, but he wasn't complaining. "I suppose I should change, hm?" He looked down at the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing. It probably wouldn't do him much good to appear in Whitechapel in that.

"That depends." She flashed him a teasing grin and turned the apple in her hands. "I'm not sure how the people in your time are going to react to that outfit, but it sort of suits you."

"Ah, but it would so ruin the element of surprise," he replied, indicating his bare arms with a slight grin of his own. Despite the fact that they'd only spent a few days together, he was going to miss her. He had a duty to his God, and that always came first but... it was nice to have someone to talk to.

The apple was a blessing at restoring her energy (although after three days of doing nothing but sleeping, anything probably would have worked). She took the time to savor it before she sat back with a sigh and looked over at him once again.

"That's true. Although maybe you could catch them off-guard with how clean you are."

"Give me but two seconds in Whtitechapel's smog, and I'll be as dirty as the day your found me," he pointed out. The grin, though small, remained on his face as he went about making himself a cup of tea. Eventually, he sat down across the table from Saga. "Are you certain you're feeling up to sending me back?"

"I won't lie." Saga shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on his. "I won't be back to my full strength for at least another day, but you've been kept here long enough, and no doubt you're antsy. I should be capable enough to send you back with what power I've got now."

Alabaster considered this for a moment, sipping his tea. "Only if you're certain you can do it as you are," he replied at length. "I would rather wait another day than have to deal with 'should's and 'maybe's, and the ramifications thereof."

It was an understandable reaction, but her eyes still narrowed all the same. "Any ramifications won't happen on your end, should they happen at all. I swear to you that you won't end up a year, or even a minute off of where you were."

The look on her face was enough to convince him. "Very well." With that, he slipped away from the table and went to retrieve his clothes.

With Alabaster out of the room, Saga was free to finish her apple and rest her head in her hands. It hadn't been a lie; she would see to it that he returned safely, but she had almost been reluctant to state that. She could have said she needed another day, but her reason was a selfish one. The truth be told, she was actually going to miss him.

But his gods probably missed him more, and her promise to her grandmother once again rang in her mind: Use your power to help others. If doing this wasn't helping him, she didn't know what was.

He returned a few minutes later, once again clad in his familiar black-with-far-too-many-buttons attire - though, it was clean now. He had his hat in one hand, and was pocketing his sunglasses with the other.

This whole leaving business was far too bittersweet for his liking, and he almost wished that they hadn't gotten along so well. Then he wouldn't have a reason to miss her.

But, it was back to business. He couldn't afford to be idle any longer than he had.

"Stand over there, will you?" She didn't look up, just pointed to a spot in the middle of the room-- the exact middle, for the sake of precision. "This'll just take a few seconds, and then you'll be back home. You can chalk this up to being one weird dream or something."

Alabaster did as he was told, pausing just long enough to frown at her. "Weird dream? On the contrary, Saga."

There went the raised eyebrow again. "On the contrary? I don't know about you, but the majority of people who just so happened to get whisked away to another country-- not to mention another country in the future-- and end up fighting a giant boar, among other things, would call that weird."

"Oh, it is weird, certainly, but not something I'm about to write off as a dream." He moved to the center of the room as she'd indicated, and turned to face her. He was smiling, though only slightly, and swept into a bow. "It has been my pleasure, Saga Laskaris."

"... And mine, Alabaster Donohue." Her smile faltered, but Saga's voice remained steady-- as did her hand, her finger extended to draw the shape of her newest rune into the air. As before, it glowed red, provoking a similar response beneath Alabaster's feet. Then, all at once, it exploded upwards and, when she'd stopped blinking, he was gone.

With a sigh, she leaned back against the table. That was that, and things would go back to the way they'd been.

... So then why did she feel so forlorn about it?

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log > for lack of a better place to do so

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