let's set d o w n some (
groundrules) wrote in
westwhere2021-03-27 06:48 pm
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sa-hareth | arrival (mingle log)
WHO: Everyone ever + the local Sa-hareth squad.
WHEN: Arc I: Sa-Hareth arrival.
WHERE: Sa-Hareth citadel, salt mine, the old jailhouse,
WHAT: Our intrepid heroes get commandeered into the frosty unknown.
WARNINGS: the glorious undead, background House of Dew mentions, at least one person's terrible sense of humour.
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If they can even get home.
Which would be very inconvenient, considering she has so much to do. It takes a bit of digging and really thinking about it, but she thinks she can feel a flicker of something like annoyance at the idea. "Yes, I suppose so..." Whatever it takes to survive and get ahead to see another day. Winnie sighs and then frowns at his shivering before she gets up, brushing herself off.
"Stay right here, won't you please? I'll be right back." She smiles brightly reassuring, and then walks off. She's gone only for a couple minutes before she returns with two blankets in hand, slightly worn, but better than nothing.
"Isn't it just dreadfully cold? I went looking for something to keep warm, and wouldn't you know, I found two blankets? I only need the one, of course, so use the other so it doesn't go to waste, alright?" She drops the blanket at his feet and then takes a seat again, the blanket she has folded over her arm, seeming with no interest in actually using it herself.
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When she gets up, he watches her go with more curiosity than he might have a few minutes ago. Strangely enough, he can guess at what she's doing even before she returns with blankets for them. Just something about her that reminds him... And it shouldn't seem too strange when she's been so willing to take on a motherly role.
What she doesn't know. It's only been a little over two weeks, and Five has yet to get used to being in this body. He's as capable as he's ever been, but it's true that he doesn't have as much weight on him to keep him warm.
So he doesn't say a word, just reaches down for the blanket and drapes it around his shoulders. No point in freezing to death for the sake of his pride. Let her have this one.
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She lets the comfortable silence linger for a few minutes before she says suddenly. “You don’t have an accent.” And the nose turns to him, smiling slightly in curious amusement. “I’m not sure about America much, but I know where Texas is. Don’t they usually have funny little accents?”
Not... that Winnie can speak at all about ‘funny little accents,’ but here she is! “Did you move there recently? I’m a little jealous. I’ve never gotten to visit America.”
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"Uh huh. Like I said, I do a lot of traveling." He doesn't seem all that interested in elaborating, but he does pull his attention back to her. That's when his eyes go to the blanket she hasn't bothered to use, as if he hadn't noticed before. He isn't an idiot. There's obviously something strange about her.
"You don't get cold, do you?" Never mind that she remarked on it just moments ago. Maybe she forgot to keep up the act.
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His question makes her pause, head titled in slight curiosity, polite smile freezing on her face. “Hm?” She looks down at the blanket as if remembering it’s there and blinks before laughing brightly. “Oh! I did nearly forget.” She laughs again and her expression turns partly sheepish, party sad as she looks down at the blanket and her arms.
“To be fair, I’m wearing quite a few more layers than you.” Just, you know, pointing that out there. Then she sighs a little and goes quiet for a moment before confessing lightly, “no, I do get cold. I’m afraid I just don’t feel it as well as others do at times. And there’s so much else to worry about, it’s slipped my mind to even pay attention to the cold.”
Winnie fixes him with another slightly sheepish smile. “Did I worry you? I’m sorry.”
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"It was a riot," he mutters to himself, just because... well, that adventure was a little more than he bargained for. About 45 years more.
The more interesting subject for him is that oddity he senses in her. Granted, he's distrustful by nature, but he thinks he's clever enough not to have the wool pulled over his eyes by a pretty face trying to mother him into submission. They may think that he's an easy one to manipulate, but he won't be fooled again.
Though. He can't be sure. Maybe she is telling the truth, and he's being paranoid. So far he can't decide. She could just be strange.
"How about we don't worry about each other, hm?" He fixes the blanket on his shoulders. Then he goes on, a little less hostile, a little more tired. "We made it this far. We must know how to look out for ourselves."
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Winnie clears her throat, trying to get back on track with where she’d been going with that. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping an eye on each other. I think we’re a lot more frightening in a group rather than individually, and there’s safety in numbers. There has to be a reason we were all separated and locked away. Perhaps they’re frightened of us, in a way.”
She glances out across the boat and to the shore, her eyes cooling. “I dare say they may have every right to be.”
That lingers in the air a moment before she looks at Five again, her smile back in place. “Besides, I quite like you.” Her tone turns teasing as she continues: “And you’d make it so much easier to gain sympathy and free things!” Which is a joke, sure, but also... Not a lie??
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That thought settles on him as she goes on. He's already convinced of one thing about her, about there being more than meets the eye, but what... something he can obsess over along with a million other new problems that this whole 'adventure' just created for him.
So he's silent for a while, flexing his jaw while he thinks of how much he's willing to offer. What benefits him. He really doubts anyone is as capable as he is, but given the evidence, it's possible that they aren't completely useless to him. If he's already expecting to be betrayed it shouldn't be too hard to play along for now.
"It's not a terrible cover, if everyone is as smart as the captain of our ship here." He frowns, relenting slightly. It's always something and his patience is already wearing on him. "I can't make promises. Whoever locked us up obviously didn't have any qualms about doing it. I'm not sure we'll get a better reception on the other end of this."
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The ever-present smile is still there, but she raises her eyebrows at him as if to say, 'you see?' Intelligence level had nothing much to do with it, as far as Winnie was concerned. "That's the thing about lies. YOu keep them simple and vague and let others fill in all the rest. Suppose it's not technically lying if the other person makes it all up themselves..."
She trails off, tapping at bottom lip thoughtfully, then shrugs. Whatever! Makes no difference to her. "Why don't you get some rest, though? There's no telling how long it'll be before the ferry actually starts running. I'll stay here to make sure no one else bothers you."
You know, except for herself occasionally.
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And contrary to what she says, intelligence has everything to do with it. Everyone would live longer with a healthy dose of paranoia, as far as he's concerned. Though he can appreciate the lesson she's trying to give to a poor misguided boy.
Once she asks if he wants to rest, he scoffs and shakes his head. It doesn't matter how cold or tired he is, there's no way he's dropping his guard now. Especially since he hasn't forgotten the one he's leaving behind, who might just be a little sore if she sees him sailing away.
"I'm good. Though if you want to try talking them into leaving sooner, I wouldn't mind." He smiles again, as if he's just asking for another demonstration. "Throw in a story about the missing father if you want. I'm sure that will get them moving."
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"What kind of story shall I tell? Shall I make it tragically romantic? Long-lost loves separated by the cruelties of time and circumstance? Or am I running and saving us both from a tyrant who treats us so poorly? Or..."
She trails off, biting her lower lip and looking oh-so eager to spin a tale. "Or perhaps we're involved in a feud between two men. I've married one against my wishes at my father's behest, but I do not love him, though he treats me well enough and is a fine conversationalist. But he's a terribly mean drunk and has absolutely no ear for poetry." Winnie sighs dramatically, as if that's clearly the terrible part of this.
"But I have a childhood sweetheart whom I adore and am compatible with in all ways, but he's much poorer and therefore not a good fit at all, but he treats me well and works hard and we'd be poor but quite happy together. I refuse to say whose child you are."
She looks thoughtful, and then continues excitedly. "But he's gathered enough money to start a new life with us, so I've let my husband and run away with you to go see him where he waits to whisk us away to a better life!"
With a bright laugh, Winnie claps her hands together once and beams at Five once more, clearly enjoying herself. "How's that sound?"
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Amazingly, he listens to her entire rambling story, if only to try to determine how her brain works. Maybe this is what trauma does to some people. Her way of coping in the fantasy world she creates for herself. (He obviously has no idea what that's about.)
It's some time after she stops speaking that he finally pipes up.
"That ought to do it." His tone isn't as sunny, but his curiosity lingers. Part of him wondering why they would take her in the first place. -- Then he decides he's giving this entirely too much thought. It's been a long day, he can be forgiven for letting himself be sidetracked. "And if that doesn't work, we can always toss him overboard."