EXCOLO

It's a nice day, I guess. Kind of a low blustering tickle in the air, and it smells like leaves. It's making my feet itch, dammit, 'cause Excolo's got its good side but it's a day for moving and we can't do that. Prowl around the lot for a bit shooting half-proud glances at the rides and the way they're standing solid, which is good, but the dust is joining the grime and grease in the bolts, they're settling here, which is just weird. Gibton, dammit. We should be down in Gibton by now.

So eventually I get restless and I head down into town and up Silk, and then out along Main. It's a quiet chunk of morning, light clouds shuffling along overhead. No-one much else out yet, a kid coming downstreet the other way. Glance around quickly for friends; she looks way younger than the guys who jumped me, and Excolo's been pretty sweet, but it doesn't hurt to keep an eye out.

I don't see her folks, and I guess that's... well. Wouldn't be weird if she looked like she was doing something, I guess, but she's just heading forward like a kid who doesn't want to go into the haunted house. And it's going to warm up in a bit, but that dress isn't much right now--forget the dirt, it looks thin--her folks shouldn't have let her out without a jacket, and then I get a bit closer and see the look on her face and that's not just dirt there's blood in it too and she smells like smoke, campfire or cookout or the Voronin manor, ashes ashes all fall down, and I'm crossing the street to meet her.

"Hey," I say, coming up to her and not coming too close, "are you okay?" And I know she isn't, she looks half-dead on her feet, but it takes knowing someone a lot better or knowing what the hell to do a lot better before you can start a conversation with how bad are you hurt? Get half-around in front of her and I'm moving backwards as she comes forwards, and glad as hell that she's tall enough that I can do this without bending down to look in her eyes 'cause walking backwards is a hard enough trick as is. "Hey, hon, can you tell me what happened?" I'd guess... shit, maybe a kid from one of the farms and it burnt down, maybe she was travelling to Excolo with her family and they got jumped by road agents. She looks awful.

Edited Date: 2009-06-06 10:07 pm (UTC)

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I'm alone and then I'm not. It takes time to realize this - I was used to being alone, with no one answering - and I blink up at the new shadow across my face. I like it, there are pretty colors dancing in that dimness and it blocks the light so I can see now. I can see all her parts - what I thought were color twirling like a carousel from Mama Teresa's picture book are really so many parts, isn't that neat? - and my head doesn't hurt anymore.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"I-" comes out, but that's all. There are more thoughts there, behind the words, but they won't come. My voice is gone, lost in the woods and long gone. Gone with Daddy, I think, from crying out for him and getting no answer. The parts are turning again and I want to tell them it's all right as they move into a face, with eyebrows together and kindness there too, but I can't. I can't can't can't.

My eyes work in my head again, but the light is gone and I don't stand anymore without it bringing me forward. I don't stand so I sit and then I'm lying down instead, pulling my hands over my face and shaking my head to make the tired go away.

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What a lovely October day it is - incredibly mild! So I am strolling out to the Miskatonic for breakfast. I notice a slim, very short haired young woman. She has the air of the carnival about her, but she also seems familiar... Ah, Karina's housewarming, I think? I would pass by with a nod and a smile, but I see she is looking down at a little girl who is lying on the ground.

Not so little, I realise as I get closer - it's just that she's lying down with that bone-tired abandon only small children seem unselfconscious enough to allow themselves.

"Is everything alright?" I ask.

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For a second I think she's--I don't know, not smiling exactly, maybe looking less horrified, and she says "I-" and she just folds up on the ground, sitting and lying and covering her face with her hands. I go down on one knee next to her and she's not bleeding and she was walking, so that's at least good, but I have no idea what the hell to do...

"Is everything alright?" and oh thank god, thank you god. Look up to see a guy from--around, I guess, I'm pretty sure I've said hello a time or two but that's it. "No," I say, and like Hux says, problem for one's a project for two, and I feel myself calm down a little, steadying smooth. "No, I don't know her--do you?--and I just saw her coming down Main and asked her what was wrong and she curled up."

I sit down and start tugging off my shoes and socks--shoes are well-worn, is the polite way of saying it, but my socks are decent, thick wool and more at home, and I can damn well handle a walk 'round town and back to the Carnival. The kid is not going down these streets in bare feet, not when she looks this wiped. I am awake enough to avoid sharp stones or broken glass or something. "Honey? Look, you can't go around in bare feet." Christ, she looks like she's been down forty miles of bad road... I don't think she can be from a farm, not one of the ones around here. I don't know. "C'mon, let me get these on you and we'll find you someplace better to lie down than the middle of Main Street, okay?"

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There are warm hands on my feet, hands not fire, and I peek out from between my fingers. The lady is still there, smiling nice behind her frown, and another's come up from behind. A man now, not so bright and without the parts, but smiling too. His clothes are nice and proper, with pride in the stitches and a good straight back (sit up, in God's house now, and we are under the heavens, all shining blue) to go along.

My hands slide from my face and I sit up, sleep and dreams trying at me but I won't let them, to help the lady pull the socks up my legs. They are scratchy and I make a face at my feet, my scraped legs. So dirty, dirty, dirty. Mama Susan is going to be cross with me, now, even if she's gone away.

There's nothing left in my bones, I think, but I can move still a little, if I don't look past the shade and to the light. I'm so tired and my eyelids want to droop as I wrap my arms around her neck, head resting on her shoulder. Doesn't sound like gears, pressed close, though I don't know why it should.

My hand floats to the man without me, tall like the buildings now, and my fingers brush on the blood painted there. It doesn't wipe off, like berry stains on a Sunday white dress. Rude to stare, I know, so I look away.

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Ah, she's sitting up at least, helping me get the socks on her feet. I think she's older than I thought, maybe just a thirteen or a fourteen scared young, slapped back to old patterns by whatever happened.

"It's gonna be okay," I say, one of those little things you say when what matters is being there and saying them, and she puts her arms around me and curls into me, and I put my arms around her. She reaches out to Valmont and then looks away, and a bit of a knot inside me loosens, 'cause I don't know what happened but I know how Syl worries, and I'm really glad she's not trying to hide from the nearest guy. God, she's cold. Not frostbite cold, but I guess she's been out all morning at least and probably a chunk of the night in that dress...

Jesus, I really hope nothing too terrible happened to her folks, but if it didn't, someone should rip a bloody strip off them.

"C'mon, honey," I say, getting my feet under me and lifting, and I think actually carrying her would be hard, but with her arms around me and me being a little shorter it's easy enough to get her to her feet. "Let's..." Dammit. It's early enough the street hasn't really woken up yet... Maybe the post office, 'cause it's closest, just to get her inside somewhere? Or the Doc? Or is this more the kind of thing where you go for the Sheriff? I look at Valmont.

Edited Date: 2009-06-07 06:44 am (UTC)

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The carnie girl takes off her socks and puts them on the child, and I think that is a kind of kindness too little seen. The child lifts her hand to me, brushing against the bottom of my jacket, and then she looks away.

"No, I don't know her--do you?--and I just saw her coming down Main and asked her what was wrong and she curled up."

"I've never seen her before," I say, as the girl props her up. "I'm Valmont," I say. "I own the inn. We can take her there." I look at the way the child slumps against the young woman, and I think it will not be easy to walk her down the street like that.

"My dear," I say, bending a little so I can look the child in the eyes, "I'm going to carry you, is that alright?" I lift her up, and she is all light long limbs. A faint smell of smoke and iron clings to her, and I wonder what terrible thing has happened to make her like this. A fire, perhaps, and I find myself thinking of Tony again. Not now, not now. "Come with me," I say to the short haired girl, "would you? We'll get her somewhere comfortable, and then one of us can sit with her whilst the other goes for the doctor. Lucien might be out on call," I explain, "and I don't want the child sitting in the waiting room until he returns."

We walk toward the inn, and I lead us in to my apartment. Hermia has already left for work; perhaps I should send for her. I put the little girl down on the sofa and cover her with a blanket.

"Can you tell us your name, sweetheart?" I say. "Are you thirsty or hungry? Does anything hurt?"

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There are eyes in my eyes, large and close. I almost fall in, clutching at the lady's arm before I stumble. "I'm going to carry you, is that alright?" He lifts me up, strong arms and clean clothes, and I nod against his chest before closing my eyes for a good long while.

Steps are rhythm, a rocking chair chair back and forth down the street. The light is still there, behind my eyelids and on my skin when I can't see it, but I'm too tired to want to look up and then we are inside.

Dark now, and isn't it just odd that the light wouldn't come through the windows so much but that's the way and so I don't question. The man sets me down, soft, and there's a blanket over me, warm.

He's speaking, I think to me, though eyes don't want to open and my throat won't work for words. They floated away in smoke, I think. I don't know, don't know, no. "Can you tell us your name, sweetheart? Are you thirsty or hungry? Does anything hurt?"

I know my name! I do know that and it makes me smile, that I can at least get that right, but still my voice is gone and lips move without a sound slipping past. Finally, face screwed up in frustration, I give a weak slap at the couch underneath and motion to my throat. The water's all dried up there and it hurts.

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The little girl gives me a little smile, but she can't speak. She feebly hits the sofa and gestures at her throat.

"Water," I say, "of course." I go over to the kitchen and come back with a glass of water. After a moment of hesitation I add a couple of drops of brandy to the glass; the girl is chilled, and it might bring some colour to her cheeks. I lift her up a little and put the glass to her lips.

"Drink that, there's a good girl," I say gently, and I smile when she manages to sip.

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Right, I think I like him; her reminds me a bit of Lou or Syl or Mom, that steady graceful concern coming through all the details and mindings. Wait with her while he goes to the kitchen and comes back, and then duck out there myself, run a little water over my handkerchief and wring it out.

"Here, hon," I say gently, sitting down next to her and holding up the handkerchief. "Clean up a bit, you'll feel better." I think she maybe didn't hear the name I gave Valmont while we were walking, and I smile at her again. "I'm Zann, Tereixa Zann, but just Zann's fine. You're not from town, I guess... You have folks anywhere?"

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Cold glass at my lips, tapping my teeth, and water flows past my tongue like honey. I grab the glass and pull it closer, drinking as fast as my mouth with let me. It burns, hurts hurts hurts, but feels so good too that I don't stop until it's gone, me bent over a little and coughing.

The lady was gone then back, holding a white rag at me with water dripping down her wrist. I take it, because that's what is right, and look back up, confused. "Clean up a bit, you'll feel better." Oh! I'm dirty and that's not good! I press the rag to my face and scrub a few times, breathing in fresh and cold, before looking at her again. "I'm Zann, Tereixa Zann, but just Zann's fine. You're not from town, I guess... You have folks anywhere?"

Folks. Folks. Daddy, I think. That's who she wants. Maybe Mama Teresa and Mama Susan, too? I have lots of folks, they just aren't here. I want to tell her, but what if she's angry? I like her, Zann with her parts and smiles, so I finally shake my head. Lying is a sin, you know. "N-No." My hand goes to my throat again, parts of the glass there though that doesn't make sense, glass is in my hand right there. It hurts all the same and I make a face. "Gone."

I glance over to the man, wondering if he's angry too. "Sorry!"

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After a couple of careful sips, the girl quickly swallows the rest of the water in the glass. She drinks so fast that she coughs, and I take the glass and put it to one side.

Zann offers her a handkerchief to wipe her face, and she takes it with an eager-to-please look that makes my heart ache a little.

She stutters out a few words.

N-no. Gone. Sorry!"

She has an anxious expression, like a dog that is used to being kicked.

"That's alright, dear," I say. "You don't have to talk about it now, if you don't want to." I smile. "I am Valmont. Do you remember what you're called? It's alright if you don't," I say. "It's easy to forget things, sometimes."

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She scrubs her face all anxious, and she's got one hand on her throat, and god, how long has she been out in that miserable weather? I mean, it's nice enough for fall, but not when you've only got a dress and no shoes. But she hasn't lost her voice, just doesn't seem to know what to do with it...

Apologizing, oh my god. What the hell does she have to apologize for? --right, I am absolutely ripping a strip off her folks. You don't treat a kid so that they have that bone-deep cringe when they're found ragged and tired, you just don't. (Oh, god, why can't I fix more than machines?)

"That's alright, dear," Valmont says. "You don't have to talk about it now, if you don't want to." and he smiles and introduces himself and adds "Do you remember what you're called? It's alright if you don't. It's easy to forget things, sometimes."

Alright, I think I love this guy, I really really do. "He's right," I add, and I'm upset at whatever was done to her, but at least I can smile at her. "It's gonna be okay, hon, it really really is." I take the handkerchief back, make it disappear. "Do you remember how long you were on the road?"

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He is smiling, Valmont, and I like his name. It is a word that plays in my mind like music, all nice notes, so I know it'll be okay. He means no harm, not him or Zann, and I can feel myself relax a bit into the couch, eyelids heavy as they bounce around questions.

"Do you remember what you're called? It's alright if you don't. It's easy to forget things, sometimes."

I nod, slower now because my head is tired and the blanket is warm. "Alice," I try and it comes out, which is good! "Call-Called Alice." More glass in my throat, more coughing.

"Do you remember how long you were on the road?"

Try to think back, that hurts like my throat, and I shake my head. "Long time?" Glance between them. "Saw the light."

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The girl manages to say her name, and I smile.

"Alice," I say. "That's a pretty name. I'm pleased to meet you, Alice."

Zann asks her about how long she was on the road, but Alice doesn't remember. Then she says something I don't understand:

"Saw the light."

"What light's that, dear?" I say. "Do you mean the lights of the town?" I glance at Zann. Has this poor girl been walking in the wilderness, then? Thank whatever god guards roads that she got here relatively unscathed, then. I touch a hand to her forehead, and her temperature is quite good. I think she has warmed up a little. "Do you want anything to eat, Alice? I have some nice fresh bread and cheese, or maybe you would like a little cake." What little girl doesn't like cake?

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She's starting to close her eyes, not all the way, but oh god, poor kid, she must have been exhausted. She knows her name, at least, and that's good. I don't really like that cough, though, even if she isn't looking sick exactly. Murmur nice to meet you after Valmont does, and let her continue.

She hesitates for a minute, and she... kind of flinches, kind of frowns. "Long time? Saw the light."

"What light's that, dear? Do you mean the lights of the town?" Valmont looks at me, and I shrug and shake my head a bit, 'cause I don't know. Excolo's not a huge town, but you can see lights pretty damn well at night with nothing to drown them out. 'course, I don't know how well she could have seen them if she was coming through the woods...

Sit back on my heels on the floor, and rake one hand back through my hair. "I'm glad you're okay hon--Alice, I mean," I say. "C'mon, have something to eat and tell us what you can, and then," dammit, I don't wanna offer his place--but doesn't he rent them out? "you can crash in one of the rooms here until we figure out where you're gonna stay, okay? You have got to be wiped." I look up at Valmont. "I can cover it, honest." I can.

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Valmont doesn't see the light and sometimes people don't see things they should and that makes them angry, so I don't say anything. All the people here are nice, I don't want them sore with me.

"Do you want anything to eat, Alice? I have some nice fresh bread and cheese, or maybe you would like a little cake."

There's cake? I perk up as much as I can, my eyes still want to fight and the couch is so soft I never, ever want to move, but I do manage a nod. "P-Please?" My throat still hurts and my lips and everything. "An... Water?" He already gave me water, I know, but maybe he will again because his name is so soft, I don't think he'll get mad.

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you can crash in one of the rooms here until we figure out where you're gonna stay, okay? You have got to be wiped. I can cover it, honest."

I wave my hand.

"There's no need for that, Zann. I'm pretty sure that I have a room free, and I'd be happy to let Alice stay here." I don't believe there is anyone staying in the twin room (http://community.livejournal.com/excolo_ooc/520497.html#cutid1), which is quite a nice cosy room; the master suite is also free, but I think that might be a little intimidating for a young girl with its big bed and more glamorous furnishings.

Alice's eyes light up at the idea of cake, although she seems almost afraid to ask. I smile at her.

"Of course, dear," I say. I refill her glass, and I take out a little cake with pink icing. I had bought some to take to Fiona, since it has been a while since I've seen her, but I think that may have to wait until tomorrow now.

I put the cake on a plate and bring it back out along with the water and set them down.

"You eat those, my dear," I say. I draw Zann to one side.

"I don't think she's in immediate need of a doctor - I think she's more exhausted than hurt," I say. "Though I will get Lucien to come and see her soon." I run a hand through my hair. "I'm not sure what to do, otherwise. Speak to Mab, I suppose..." I glance over at Alice. "If you could sit with her for a while, I could pop out later to see if I can find the sheriff, and leave word for Lucien."

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So he's figuring on getting the Doc to come see her, and he runs his hand through his hair, and I swear that's the first sign I've seen of him not being completely together about this, not being asked to a dance he already knew so well. "I'm not sure what to do, otherwise," and I feel a kind of huge guilty relief at that, that I'm not the only one who's kind of lost here.

"Speak to Mab, I suppose... If you could sit with her for a while, I could pop out later to see if I can find the sheriff, and leave word for Lucien."

"I can, but--you sure?" I say, raising my eyebrows and glancing around the room. But he doesn't quite get that dear-god-not-a-carnie edge in his eyes, and I relax a bit. "Yeah, I can sit with her," I say, glancing back at Alice and smiling. "If I stay as late as dinner, I've gotta send word to my folks, but that's no issue, right?" The cake seems to be making her happy, at least. "--c'mon, hon, slow down a bit," I add gently to her.

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Valmont brings me a whole other glass of water and a whole piece of cake too, sweets and it's not my birthday or anything! I still feel so bad, tired feet and face and all the places in between, but then happy too. The water goes down all at once, dripping from the sides of my mouth, and I wipe away the spill with the back of my hand before it can mess my dress front.

The cake... Pink icing and pretty swirls around the edge, all for me. I look up again, glancing between them, before pulling the saucer close and diving in. They speak over my head and I don't listen, because it's rude to pry in adult business. It's only when Zann tells me to slow down that I take notice again, stopping as quick and as fast as I can, fork still in my hand.

A lot of the cake is gone, maybe I wasn't supposed to eat it all, and I push the plate away with eyes on the blanket at my lap. "Sorry..."

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"I can, but--you sure?" Zann seems surprised I'm trusting her, and I nod.

"It makes sense," I say, low-voiced. "And if the child is to be left alone, it might be best it's with a woman... Men can intimidate children, and this one has been through a great deal, I think."

Zann tells Alice to slow down with her cake, and at once the child stops, lowering her eyes.

"It's alright, Alice," I say gently. "We just don't want you to eat too quickly or you will feel sick," I say. "Come now, finish your cake, and then maybe you can have a nap."

I straighten up.

"I'll be back in a little while," I say to Zann. "If you're hungry, do help yourself - there's bread in the bread bin." I smile at Alice and step out through the French doors and start walking along the street.

I get up to Main Street and find that the sheriff is out on her rounds. I leave a note for Mab, and then I walk along to Lucien's office. He is also out. Everyone is busy today, it seems. I leave him another note explaining what's happened and ask him to pop round at his convenience, and then I start walking back to the inn. What a strange day it has been, and it's not even time for lunch.

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