capeandcowllogs | but all hope's not lost

Entry tags:

but all hope's not lost

WHO: GIL and SHARON
WHERE: the penthouse
WHEN: night of 9/15
WARNINGS: talk of death & violence / spoilers for PH abound
SUMMARY: a reunion
FORMAT: tagger's choice

[ It hasn't quite sunk in yet that someone from home is here in the City, confirming again for Gil that he hasn't been under some insane delusion he's been in another universe for over a year, despite sitting next to the young Rainsworth heir in a small taxi with the driver peering into his mirror at every stoplight to examine the dated clothes she wore. Despite inclining his head every so often to ask her if she was alright and listening her response and a voice he hasn't heard in months (but could never forget). He finally stopped when she smiled, polite and gentle, but foreboding and leaving a terribly cold feeling that slid down his neck.

By the time they exited the taxi, having made it to the building he had been staying at for months now, the moon had taken its place in the sky for the night and the temperature dropped a few degrees. He paid the fare and allowed the man to keep the large amount of change as a tip ("Wha -- Thanks, mate!" he put on a fake accent for show, but it was terrible and Gil said nothing more.) ]

Let's get you inside. The apartment's a few floors up, but there's an elevator so we won't have to walk.

[ He waited for Sharon to take the first step forward, although a doorman was waiting for the both of them, wearing a large smile although his eyes drifted from Gilbert, a grown man, to Sharon, who was "not" a grown woman.

He opted to say nothing... yet. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The elevators dings once more when it comes to a full stop, the doors sliding open to reveal a long hallway and various doors. Gil presses a hand against the frame of the elevator door and again, waits for Sharon to move out. ]

It functions like a telephone, but you can also see those you speak with. You can also send letters and photographs... all sorts of things they call "files". I can show you later.

( She steps out and swooshed forward, moving to one side and glancing over her shoulder as she waits for Gilbert to follow. It all sounds so improbable, but not more so than the rest so far. Of course, they'd have such things. Picture sharing, letter sending, file carrying devices the size of her hand.

Poor couriers. She wonders if the exist outside of a capacity of bringing missives that needed to be trusted to an absolutely solid source. )

I should like that very well, Mister Gilbert.

( She keeps her pleasant smile on when she scans the hall, taking note of the layout and doing what she can to familiarize with what she sees. Doubtless she'll need to be able to recognize this all again later. )

Do you see much of your neighbors?

[ The walk to his door isn't long. The keys in his pocket jingle when he digs in and pulls them out. He slips the key into the hole, turning the lock and then the knob, pushing the door wide open for them to enter. ]

Not often. It's... a bit of a long story, but I was living elsewhere sometime back. Not to mention a lot of these people keep to themselves.

I should think we have plenty of time for long stories.

( She says, congenial enough as she pauses behind him, watching his back as he opens the door rather than his hands. It's still odd, seeing him in clothing that isn't at all what she's used to, particularly because this is Gilbert. It's part of the dogpiling of jarring relaities she's smoothing over in an effort to stay perfectly functional. )

After all, what do friends ( sounds like such a fun word when she says it ) do but spend time listening to each other' stories?

[ The apartment screams Gil's opposite: flooded with lights and a modern day sleekness he isn't accustomed or generally too fond of, but the place was virtually a gift, so he can't take it for granted.

At least he keeps it tidy, so everything is laid out for Sharon to inspect as she likes. Gil isn't going to stop her from taking a look around. ]

I'll prepare some tea and food. There's some extra clothes left from when Sue lived here. They'll be loose and long, but it'll have to do for now.

[ He sounds a bit embarrassed and there's faint blush on his cheeks. He stands rooted to his spot for a brief moment before he moves toward the hall where the bedrooms are. He also flicks a light on in the bathroom and beckons Sharon. ]

You can wash up in here.

Sue?

( If there is anything to draw her attention away from examining the strangeness of this opulence, Gil has hit upon it. She follows after him, eyes bright and hands clasping in front of her chest. )

Why Gilbert, do you mean to say you lived here with a woman?

( She's poised to make the wrong assumption, and perhaps all the more willing to for the distraction opportunity it offers. It's not precisely, ah, characteristic of Gilbert. What did he do without Xerxes Break to chase off those woh might pursue him?

... Get caught? It's enough of a thought to make her smile. The bathroom gets a cursory glance -- presumably there's a pitcher of water and a proper basin inside to use for washing up, if Gilbert's managing to point it out for her. Questions on the quality of the lighting (so bright! so effecient!) would wait for now. )

[ Before he can enter the bedroom, although the light's been flicked on, he freezes, shoulders hunching as if he's been struck on the back of his head and quickly he whirls around on his heel to look at Sharon, absolutely flabbergasted by the idea.

And highly embarrassed, which goes without saying. ]

N-Not like that! And I never lived here while Sue did! I moved in long after she was gone...!

( Sharon almost looks as if she's pouting when she sighs, slipping into the bathroom proper with a backward wave of her hand, she exclaims: )

I hope you're not chasing ghosts again, Gilbert!

( Or waiting for people to return. She suspects this may be, indeed, a place people can return to. If peoplemay be brought once...

However, any thoughts she had on those lines, or any teasing words she might have tossed out, are forgotten as she stares around the bathroom. There's no pitcher, though she does look. Just this spigot in the counter, with handles to either side.

Hmm. Sharon lean in close, tugging on the right side handle. It gives under her pressure, turning and starting a hissing through the spigot.

Ah-hah! She straightens up as a thin stream of water comes out into the basin set in the counter. She trails her fingers under it, feeling the coldness, wondering what the other handle is for.

Of course she turns it too, about as much as the first. The flow of water into the basin increases, all of it draining down the hole with the strange cover in the center. A drain? Surely! But why two handles for water? Ingenious, and yet -- she runs her fingers under the water again, brow furrowing in puzzlement. )

Is it warmer?

I'm not chasing anything!

[ Certainly not women! He frets over whether or not she's aware of the things Break's done in the past to exacerbate situations with potential suitors, but the worry is put aside when she's entered the bathroom. ]

[ Again, this all feels highly inappropriate -- the bathroom a private room and Sharon, being a young woman, in it with Gil hovering about.

But given her situation, he swallows his dignity and enters the bathroom after a moment's hesitation and points to the taps. There's a letter engraved on each handle, C and H. ]

This one runs the water cold and this one hot. You need to be careful with this one because if you turn the knob the entire way it'll burn.

[ He runs both of them at the same time, pulling off his glove and running a hand beneath the stream of water to check its temperature. ]

Like this it'll come warm. It's the same for the bathtub... but the water comes from above.

[ He wants to rush through all this, like some sort of crash course to the future, but if Sharon is here it means she might be in this world for quite some time and who knows if Lachesis will port Gil or Sharon elsewhere and leave them to their own devices?

Sharon's always been clever, she'll figure it out. ]

... There's some brushes you can use and you can use the towels in here. They're clean.

( There's not enough room in this bathroom to disrobe properly, but nonetheless, eyes bright with the promise of something new and interesting to play with (hot water came from spigots as easy as all that?), Sharon turns and shoos Gilbert out of the area. She's far too pleased looking as she makes the shooing motions. )

You may lay out as suitable a change of clothing as you may find among your Sue's things on the bed.

( She'll have more questions once she's explored the extent of the shower, thankful for the moment she can get out of her clothing without a maid. Fiddlesticks if she has to get back into half of it! )

[ He takes his leave quickly and pulls the door shut after him, but not before sniping: ] She's not -- wasn't --

[ A failed sniping, ahem.

Flustered but trying to gather his bearings as he reminds himself Sharon's the only one he has to inform him on what's been going on at home, he marches off into the bedroom to look for something for Sharon to wear in the house. There aren't a lot of nightgowns (and he doesn't want to know what women in general wear to bed in this era), so he has to opt for a simple blouse. It'll be long on Sharon, but they'll have to make do.

As the skirt is probably too short to her own tastes (but he's not about to go looking for any stockings or undergarments), he finds the skinniest pair of pants he can for Sharon and lays them for her.

He sighs and heads into the kitchen to prepare the kettle and some food. It's impossible at this point to not allow his thoughts to drift to Oz, Break, and the others. Is Sharon from an earlier timeline? Did something bad happen? Did they stop Leo and the Baskervilles?

Is Oz okay? Thoughts, concerns, pound his head. ]

Edited 2013-09-30 05:05 (UTC)

( Her own fair share of thoughts kept her distracted, from the mundane (where to put her dress so it doesn't end up hopelessly wrinkled?) to the immediate, more grim thoughts of back home. There's little doubt in her that plans won't go as smoothly as Glen expects, regardless of how difficult seeing the particulars of it may be. Still, there's been a familiar feeling coming back when she'd first come to, and not just the disorientation of being held up by Break's side.

The toilet was another strange discovery, but between it, the shower, and the sink, Sharon feels fresh and more distinctly clearheaded, for all she'd been finally able to wash away some of the hurt surrounding the injury on her head. It's a tender bump her fingers explore before she wrings out her hair, stepping out of the cocoon of warm air into the bathroom proper, avoiding looking at the mirrors lining one wall. A lady did not always favor seeing herself, let alone done up in towels as she dried off and set about an industrious progress across the hall to the bedroom festooned in whatever towels she deems necessary.

Sharon finally emerges feeling like she missed signing up for Latowidge Academy, making herself stop fussing with the skirt and stop thinking about the particularities of what she isn't wearing. She'd be red in the face if she thought about those, and she has no need for that now. Gilbert's unprepared to be hosting anyone of delicate sensibilities, or more correctly, anyone from their own time. World? Probably both.

Adjusting her blouse one more time, she makes barefoot progress down the hall to locate him in the heart of what must be something like a kitchen. All of this feels like an edge of the scandalous. What's more annoying is having Gilbert star unintentionally in the strange play this is turning out to be.

But she has questions, and not time for silly thoughts, and so those are placed to the side. )

How long have you been here on your own, Gilbert?

( It's a soft question from where she appears in the door, hair combed but damp, hanging down her back. She looks like she's playing dress up in someone else's clothes. )

[ It's strange seeing her in such clothes that don't fit her frame or her demeanor in the slightest, although he's reminded of the difficulties he faced when purchasing clothes from this world when he was still relatively new. He had spent countless hours trying to find simple trousers and shirts and sweaters without the silly logos or texts printed on them.

The tea is nearly ready by the time Sharon emerges from changing and he pulls out a seat for her by the kitchen table for her to take, already sliding up a hot bowl of soup. They've come in from slightly nippy weather and he'll want to take precautions so Sharon doesn't wind up with a cold. ]

This is the second time I've been here. [ His shoulders droop, weighing down heavily with obvious discontent at the mere fact. ] I was here for about two months or so and then I found myself ported back last April.

[ He quickly looks to her, desperation bright in those gold eyes. ]

Sharon, tell me, what's going on back home? Do you know what's happened to Oz or Break? Or the state of Pandora... the Baskervilles. [ The words come rushing out of his mouth and he finds his heart racing faster with each question. ] Did the Baskervilles do that to your head?

( Her feet no more touch the ground here than they do in half her chairs at home. Such a strange thing to have be reassuring, but after the careful arrangement of far too little fabric for her state of dress, or the uncomfortable unfamiliarity of all the rest around her, that piece of annoying normalcy is grounding.

Gilbert's fretting is in its own way. One she does wish he'd cease. )

What month are we in?

( She waits for his assistance in her doing what math she needs to, one hand coming up to rest fingers lightly against the sides of the bowl. Her other reaches up, brushing over the hair partially disguising the blow to her head. She must have scrubbed the scabs out, for all she'd tried being careful. )

Did they? ( Yes, but she manages to sound mystified. Watching Gilbert's reaction is tempering her own. )

It must be the blow to my head. I can't quite seem to remember... What were the state of affairs, last you recollect?

It's September. [ Quickly, he adds: ] The year is 2013.

[ He lets that hang in the air for a moment, fully understanding how overwhelming the date alone can be to people like them.

Her casual response only heightens his own paranoia and concern, filtering heavily through his expression and actions and -- without any doubt -- his voice. ]

Was it the Baskervilles?

[ He takes a few steps to her side to look over her head if she grants him permission. He knows Sharon's wanted to make a stand on her own and he can never forget her raising her voice on Duke Barma. She's proven to be hardly the delicate young woman most expect her to be, but none of it helps to ease his anxieties. Not with his brother on the side of the Baskervilles, the Nightray dukedom practically destroyed, Leo gone insane and trying to harm Oz. ]

Does it hurt? Here, let me get some ice for it. I have a first aid kit --

[ He pauses after her inquiry and shakes his head. ]

We were in the city and Leo -- [ He cuts himself off again, gritting his teeth and fingers digging into his palms at the memory of Vincent on Leo's side; the usual mischievous smile spreading across his features as the Jabberwock appeared to target Oz. ] He summoned the Jabberwock and I called Raven, but that's all I remember. I don't know if I was able to stop it from doing any more damage.

Edited 2013-10-02 03:10 (UTC)

( Her fingers still. That's a startling number, startling enough to have her breathe in more sharply than she intends. The numbers roll through quickly: collectively, nineteen months. )

On your own?

( She asks, because she has to ask. It's enough of a point of consideration that she doesn't blink twice at his offer, waving the hand which had been on her head in a negligent, "do as you will" gesture.

He doesn't know. Sharon considers that as she looks to him, trying to catch his eyes with hers. )

The city's unharmed.

( For the most part. )

We called young Master Oz, Miss Alice, and yourself back to Pandora. Leo had his own business to attend to -- ( on the lawn, but that's beside the point ) -- which called the Jabberwock away.

[ He doesn't stay focused on her eyes for long, his own darting to the side quickly. For a few seconds, his feet feel heavy and rooted to the floor before he remembers the ice and marches over to the large fridge, prying open the freezer box and digging inside.

He barely lets out a sigh of relief, still anticipating bad news from Sharon. It's been nearly two years without any contact from home. Nearly two years he's had to plow through life without Oz, without knowing anything for certain.

Gil steps back to Sharon, offering the ice pack. It's a bit heavy and cold to the touch, but he gestures for her to take it. ]

Oz is fine? What happened at Pandora? What about Leo and --

[ A sharp intake of breath. ]

Vincent. He was there, too.

[ Of course he was. They had known about him running off with Leo a couple of days before. But it still hit him like a sack of bricks, to see his flesh and blood related sibling opposing him and doing all this. It didn't make any sense to him. ]

We learned something new relating to things of personal interest.

( She makes it sound blase as she reaches out for the icepack, studying the design even as she hisses under her breath at the cold. )

What sort of ingenious design is this?

( Her hand's liable to freeze right off! )

Oz is as safe as he can be with you. Miss Alice too. Now that you've worried about things which clearly wait for you to get back home to, since you haven't been gone so much as a blink of an eye that anyone can tell, are you going to feel any less lonely about the fact you've been here with no one for almost two years? It can't have been easy for someone with your temperament.

( With that tendency toward making himself useless, though that would be the uncharitable way of looking at it. Gilbert hampered himself in his own way, but it made him largely dependable, and was endearing -- when it didn't get in the way of getting things done. )

[ Sharon knows how to strike into the heart of things.

Gil freezes instantaneously, arms rigid by his side while he struggles to swallow the lump snagged in his throat. Reluctantly, he peers back at her, surveying her calm demeanor and making a note of it. If she's so relaxed, it must mean Oz and the others are safe, in spite of that injury on her head.

Still, the nagging feeling persists. ]

The flow of time is different here, almost like the Abyss. They say time "stops" when the machine brings us into this world.

[ Sharon's presence, after nineteen months, confirms it for him. ]

When we're sent back, we don't remember this place and we'll be sent back to the place in time we last remembered.

[ And then he averts his gaze once more, forcing a smile that doesn't suit him or the situation. He shakes his head, trying to brush off her question. ]

I'm fine. It's been a long time, but I'm fine.

So useless.

( She sets the icepack on the table, rubbing her damp, chill fingers together without comment. She presses them against the soup bowl, watching Gilbert with greater calm than she actually felt. Its difficult to tell if she means the icepack or Gilbert's attempt at lying.

Perhaps she means both. (She definitely does.) )

The only fine things about you are your surroundings and the state of that collar around your neck. When did you take to buttoning up to under your chin? Is that part of your 'I'm fine?'

( Because she doesn't think so, just like she's not fine with any of this. It's scant comfort to hear the way time works here is so similar to the distortion of the Abyss. Whatever comfort can be derived from knowing time here is not time lost back home is paired with knowing time here might stretch for years.

That thought is admittedly daunting. )

[ The colour in his face drains slightly and barely conscious of his actions he doesn't notice he's already reaching up, brushing the edge of the collar with his fingertips. He always feels so humid and claustrophobic when he has to wear his clothes like this, but it's a necessity.

Sharon can't know.

His heart pulse rises at the mere idea of her discovering what he's done here. ]

The weather tends to get colder than home around this time. [ When he realizes where his hand is, he drops it quickly. ] Do you want a bandage? There's some medication they have in this time to prevent headaches and other spells from those injuries.

( It's probably almost endearing that Gilbert's such an earnest person in many ways that he's an absolutely intolerable liar.

"Some ways" being a key phrase. Sharon cants her head to the side. Her smile is a beat later, that particular kind that tends to precede thumps to the back of the head. Or shoulders. Or necks.

Anything in reach, really. )

Then it's a good thing it's such a pleasant temperature when we're indoors here.

( Smile. )

Wouldn't you agree?

( Smile. )

A-Ah...

[ His shoulders shake, but not due to draft in the building. The apartment is obscenely cozy, as bizarrely sleek and modern as it is. It's obvious an expensive building such as this one would never allow something as silly as a draft to interrupt the stay of its tenants. ]

I'm still feeling a bit cold from the outside...

( She withdraws her hands from the bowl, sliding out of her seat and letting her bare feet touch the floor. Sharon crosses over to Gil, the look on her face considering. Her lips still curl into the remnants of a smile; it's an afterthought. )

Then you should warm yourself by a fire, if there is one, or bundle yourself into a blanket. ( That she's well used to with Break. ) It's in poor taste to lie over something obvious when asked without harm intended by the asker.

( She holds her hands out to Gilbert, not precisely sure what she'll be asking for. Gilbert doesn't know how to give much of himself over without it being full tilt, as he has for Oz, or as he tries for his brother. He's growing up, she feels, but slowly. She wonders if so long away from all of them, especially separated from Oz once more, has hurt him more than anything.

Truly useless, and truly self made that way. )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

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