strangetrip | [GP/EP] Check-in Day

The woodwinds in her collection were for noodling mostly, and the violin was for memory of her family, but when Curnen really wanted to play she turned again and again to her guitar. This would probably always be her best instrument. It was the first of the month, she’d been here over a year, and it was probably a check-in day. So she sat on the lawn with her instrument in her lap, sending out a subtle magic to call anyone stranded in their little world this way.

At one point, though, she set aside the guitar and turned her face to the sky. For just a few minutes she required a different kind of magic.

It had been a week now since Scanlan had vanished in the battle. And Pike, too, though Curnen honestly couldn’t have cared less about her going away if she tried. Still. The two of them were family to people very dear to her, people who missed them. And Scanlan had been her friend. You marked something like that with a song.

Of all the money that e'er I had
I spent it in good company
And all the harm that e'er I've done
Alas, it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit
To memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

It was a traditional Irish goodbye, a farewell to friends said with love, drinking, well wishes, and the hope of meeting again. She couldn’t think of a better one for the occasion. And as she sang she twined her magic into her voice in a new way, sending the song to any ears that needed it, ears of those who knew and missed the departed. Not all of them might understand it, not all of them knew what she was, but she didn’t particularly care about that right now. The song was more important than the hiding.

Once the last note had dissipated she picked up her guitar again and resumed her work. If there were anybody out there, they had to know where to go.

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Which is when the delusion starts to break- just a tiny bit because she made a remark that John himself just went with. Not questioning why the ship is in the shape that it's in - it just is.

It's his ship, right? Why can't he answer her wonderment? John looks over at her - that he doesn't have an answer either.

"I suppose in space it does not matter," Xavin mused, missing his blank look. "Aerodynamics do not matter, there is no drag to consider. And the color is pretty, that blue."

Aero in Latin is air - and dynamics is the branch of science about force. Wright brothers; they had to factor in aerodynamics - surely.

"You're implying that space is a vacuum."

“It is,” Xavin confirmed, but it was her turn to look confused. How could he have a spaceship, however odd looking, and not know space?

How could anyone know that space is a vacuum? John only gives a 'huh' interesting - look. In way feels behind on knowing things here.

And at her confused look; "What?"

“I mean no offense, but how do you have a spaceship but not know about space?” It was deeply strange.

So all those adventures of Impossible Things - were off in other worlds. His spaceship looks like a 1950's British Police Box. Where it always feel safe in there; even if does feel more like a fugitive.

That's it. That's exactly it; isn't it? He must have stolen the spaceship.

"I stole it. Maybe..."

Why is thinking so hard hurting? Like trying to reach for something that isn't there but also is?

John also starts to look scared because he's not able to find an answer to that question.

“It is all right. I have stolen. I was a Runaway.” Xavin reaches out to try and hold the man’s hand. He looked so scared and lost; she remembered feeling that even if she'd always tried not to look it. “No one will hurt you here. You need not fear.”

The problem is John isn't sure and these questions that he hasn't been asking himself are starting to challenge the denial reality that he's created for himself to cope with this place.

When Xavin takes John's hand like that - he's reminded of his servant girl; the one that looks a lot like Martha Jones or maybe he's thinking of Martha. Either way that face was always there to doctor him.

If anything; at least he's comforted.

He seemed less overtly upset, that was a good thing. Sympathy via light physical contact was still a good go-to move in these situations, it seemed. Xavin smiled. "The library has movies as well as books. Perhaps we should find you some kind of space movie so you can see many things at once?"

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