in a holding pattern

[she_sells_seashells]

Bell finds the bar when she is eight-almost-nine, in the shed in the back, and she grabs up her seashells - she can reach the bag by the shed door and the one by the back door of the house, her arms are getting longer - and drags them in after her.

She drags them all the way to her room, and locks the door behind her when she lets herself back out, and then she collects a mop from behind the bar and starts earning that room. She's not really sure how it works - so much time passes between visits and yet the room always waits for her. But she supposes that paying people for things in Milliways has to work the way Milliways works. She does an amount of cleaning whenever she's there and this secures her a space to stash her things.

Mop, mop.

Comments

[blooded_poet]

Lynn is tired - she's been tired for a while now, so when she opens a door to a potentially good place to sleep and sees a bar, she only stares for a little while, before she walks in. She peers around, confused, and feeling somewhat out of place in her rag-tag scavenged clothing. It would be kind to say she's dressed like a bum, but perhaps that wouldn't put off anyone that wants to talk to her. Her eyes, an unnatural red, might. Or what she's carrying.

She has an absolutely absurd number of weapons. Not all of them are pristine, but some of them look like they're new. They also happen to have an unnatural 'magic' feeling to them. Despite this, she peacefully sinks into a booth, still looking lost but too tired to care.

[she_sells_seashells]

Bell is across the room, methodically mopping, moving carefully so she doesn't fall into her bucket. She notices the newcomer, and the weapons, the same way she notices everyone else who comes and goes, but it's not until she's worked her way across enough floor to be close by that she really perks up. Those are definitely magic in some way.

Is she stopping and looking long enough to qualify as "staring"? That might depend on whether she's interrupted at it.

[blooded_poet]

The armed visitor does notice eventually, regretfully slower than she would have if she had more energy. It has been a long, long day.

She looks up, and meets Bell's eyes. Faintly, she smiles. Already, Lynn's ruled out an illusion - too internally consistent and detailed for that. So, when she sees a young girl looking at her, she waves. Just a little.

[she_sells_seashells]

"Hi," says Bell, trying to look like she's still mopping. She isn't sure exactly who decides whether she's earned her room - it isn't Bar, that's all she knows - so maybe they will be fooled by such subterfuge.

[blooded_poet]

"Hello," replies the visitor. "Do you know where I am? I haven't figured it out yet. It's not an illusion, and there are too many people in for it to have been self-containted and done by a wayward mage."

[she_sells_seashells]

"This is Milliways," says Bell. "It surprises people like that. You can go home whenever you want to pretty much, though, out the same door."

[blooded_poet]

"Ah, I see. Pardon me, I'm about to do something strange," she informs the girl.

The woman clears her throat, raises her voice, and then says, "If this is a trick from a certain -" she pauses, looks at Bell, and then changes the word she was going to use. "Er, ghost, stop it right now. If this is a trick from a demon, I'm on to you, and you'd best run because I don't have the patience for games."

Nothing happens, though maybe some other patrons would look at her strangely. To herself, the woman says, "Hm. That usually works."

[she_sells_seashells]

"I've never met a ghost in here," says Bell. I met a demon one time, though."

[blooded_poet]

The woman gives Bell a critical look. "And what was the demon like?" she asks, carefully.

[she_sells_seashells]

"He was little and had pointy ears and a pointy tail and drank a lot of beer."

[blooded_poet]

"That was not the sort of answer I was expecting," says the woman, surprised. "Little? How little?"

[she_sells_seashells]

"Shorter than me but not by all that much. He probably wasn't whatever kind of demon you have. There's kinds of most things."

[blooded_poet]

"Kinds of things? I've only ever met one type of demon. If one were here, it would have immediately revealed itself when I did my strange thing earlier, and started to monologue. Fire, brimstone, how I was doomed, and so forth," says Lynn, matter of fact.. "Then I would have killed it."

[she_sells_seashells]

"You aren't allowed to kill anybody here, you'll get in trouble."

[blooded_poet]

"Who would I be in trouble with?"

[she_sells_seashells]

"Whoever's on Security. I don't know who it is today, probably not anybody I've met."

[blooded_poet]

"Security. So people work here - do you? You look rather young for that," says Lynn, looking sad.

[she_sells_seashells]

"I do but I'm not on Security. I just mop and wipe down tables to pay for my room so I don't have to spend shells on it."

[blooded_poet]

"I beg your pardon? The local currency is shells?"

[she_sells_seashells]

"Bar will take any currency! It's great, I can't spend shells at home but I can bring them here."

[blooded_poet]

"I see. Then why does their value matter to you? I assume you live on a beach, if you have enough to pass as currency," reasons Lynn.

[she_sells_seashells]

"Well, if I go back for more shells, I lose the door. So I keep bags of them by all the doors in case any one of them turns into Milliways."

[blooded_poet]

"Ah. That's quite a lot of planning for a bar. It seems innocuous enough," says the woman, then her voice softens, a little. "Are you alright in your home? Or is this simply an interesting adventure?"

[she_sells_seashells]

"I like to be here as long as I can," shrugs Bell. "Home is sort of okay but we have to eat clams all the time and I'm not old enough to take tesserae."

[blooded_poet]

"I see. What's 'tessarae,' and why do you have to eat clams all the time?" asks Lynn, concerned. It's something that worries her, just a little. If it were an adult, she would be unlikely to care, but this is a child. They shouldn't have diets restricted like that when they're growing. Perhaps it was a bizarre rule from a parent?

Or, of course, something more unfortunate. But she wouldn't jump to conclusions. Not yet.