strangetrip | [GP/EP] You're not clear of story out here

Entry tags:

[GP/EP] You're not clear of story out here

Even before she knew for certain that it was the first of a month, Snow’s body had started bracing for it. She was wary and tense, preparing to cope with yet more people in the space of the hotel. It seemed that no sooner had she adjusted to whoever had showed up the last time, there was someone new again.

She didn’t want anything to do with the lot of it. That was what those busy women on the welcome committee were for. She didn’t think the committee was a stupid thing, not at all. Focusing on settling new people in kept the lot of them busy and away from her, and that was where she wanted them. They terrified her.

Snow White had only come into the main building to forage for food. The original plan was of course to turn right back around and escape before the expected rush (small or large) of new people to flood in.

But that was of course not what happened. When a universe was a pocket, it had less to focus on and fewer people to fuck with, and so Snow was entirely certain it was fucking with her when she was the one in the lobby when a new face came through the door.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That had come out of nowhere and already tense, Snow was now ready to flee like a wild animal and hide under the first piece of furniture that could conceal her.

And she nearly did, turning sharply to run away, until she saw who was striding toward her.

"Mama...?"

Regina barely heard the man snarling in her face over the sound of her own heart pounding and the soft, so familiar sound of Snow's voice.

God she'd missed her.

She put her hand up and stiff-armed Dyson in the chest without looking at him. "Your quips need work, jester," she snapped, and kept moving toward the girl who looked too terrified even to hope.

"Snow..."

The girl's feet were running before her brain had fully caught up, and she all but threw herself into Regina's arms. At first she was quiet like the snow she was named for. And then she whispered, "Mama?" She buried her face in Regina's neck, breathing in the scent of her mother. "Mama..."

Edited 2017-03-10 06:52 (UTC)

No force in the universe, and certainly no snarling beast of a man could've kept Regina from her daughter in that moment. The instant Snow reached for her, Regina was there, catching her up and holding on tightly. She stroked a hand over Snow's hair, murmuring her name and kissing her.

Hundreds of times since Snow disappeared, she'd thought of things she wished she'd said, wished she'd told her, but the force of emotion at being who her daughter wanted stripped them from her. Only two words mattered now: "Snow, love."

Snow said nothing for a long time, and even as tears squeezed from her eyes she made no sound of any kind, only tucked as close to Regina as was humanly possible.

After what seemed even to her like an eternity she said, "I'm sorry."

Although embraces had become common in the months after defeating Mrs. H., Snow hadn't tended to cling, nor had Regina, so Snow's need to hold on might have caused consternation, except that Regina had even less interest in letting go. She held Snow, stroked her hair, kissed her face and hair, until Snow spoke.

And then Regina immediately pushed her out--not far, just far enough to see her eyes. "There's nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry that it took me so long to come to you. I tried."

Snow's black eyes were huge in her face, and she lowered them in shame. "I said I'd help you," she whispered. "And I left."

"Oh, Snow." Regina let out a soft, incredulous sigh, and if Snow weren't so ashamed, she might have laughed. Another Snow, another promise "broken," another love gone (though admittedly, probably not because of it)....but she'd learned. "Did you choose to leave?" The tilt of her head, the warmth of her voice, the gentleness of her fingers on Snow's shoulders all said she knew the answer.

Even with those reassurances, Snow took a moment to respond as though she didn't entirely understand. Wordlessly, she shook her head slowly.

"You didn't leave. You were taken." Regina brushed her fingers against Snow's cheek, and the moment called to mind one of their very first, when Regina had recognized the signs of abuse in the strange, feral Snow White who'd found her. "It's not your fault."

Snow closed her eyes and drew a deep breath before she nodded. "Okay," she said in a tiny voice.

Awareness of the world rushed in as Snow acquiesced. It didn't seem like the best place to stand around, considering she'd just attacked Yasmeen's chew toy. She should apologize, but he'd disappeared from her immediate line of sight and Snow was more important.

"Where can we talk?" she asked quietly, gaze scanning eagerly for the rest of her family.

"We can go to my room, I guess," Snow mumbled, though she didn't seem to be particularly enthused by the idea.

Something Snow clearly didn't want to do. Well, if she'd been transported here, she'd need a room, since her daughter didn't seem inclined to share. "Why don't we get me a room, and go there?"

Re: Dyson - Assigned Threads

st_arkcrowblack - 2017-03-13 04:10 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Dyson - Assigned Threads

st_oriedqueen - 2017-03-13 05:50 (UTC) - Expand

He refrained, barely, from rolling his eyes as the woman pushed past him toward the girl.

"Females," he muttered under his breath as he stalked away, and directly to the bar. He didn't care if Kitty, whoever that was, showed up he was pouring himself a drink.

As it happened, Kitty was the dancer-slender, pretty Jewish female who'd walked out of the kitchen where she'd placed an order for room service for Miss Fisher in time to see a woman she didn't recognize throwing a man she also didn't recognize across the room with a vaguely Havok reminiscent force blast, and then the man getting up and flying across the room at her at a pace closer to Rahne than Northstar. Kitty began to phase, prepared to intervene, but it ended as quickly as it began--the woman embracing Snow White (weird) and the man striding off toward the bar.

She grabbed a rag in classic bartender fashion, put on a pleasant expression that wasn't quite a smile, and said, "Hi. I'm Kitty. Sorry about that. That's not the way new people usually get greeted."

"Guess I'm just lucky that way," his voice was still half growl and his eyes flashing but as annoyed as he was he wasn't biting her head off. "Whisky. The older the better."

He should probably introduce himself, but at the moment it wasn't on his mind.

"Sure."

She was starting her third month of this. Taking newbie-attitude personally was a good way to trigger her anger issues and her PTSD, so she just didn't. Instead, she grabbed a bottle of Glendronach 18, because it was the best they had at the moment. She poured him a glass, generous, and pushed it across the counter at him.

"It's not the oldest we've got, but it's the best. Don't take that personally, what happened back there. I don't know the woman, but Snow's half-feral. If you got between her and someone she cares about, you're lucky she didn't shoot you."

He took a long drink from the glass she offered, and glanced back at the other women. The growl was almost inaudible when he spoke, "Your all so calm for people who are trapped. What is this? What are all of you?" Because some of them smelled human and others smelled, mostly human, and there was something else in there too.

But not fae, none of it smelled like fae.

Fury could be contagious, Kitty knew, and that was dangerous for her. As it was, his anger grated against her calm. She took a deep breath and shrugged to break the tension in her shoulders. "I've been here two months. At some point, you have to come off red alert." She tipped her head to the stack of notepads toward the end of the bar. "I'm still working on ways to get out of here, but my brain works better when I'm not in a rage."

She lifted her chin then, almost defiant. "We're not whats, we're whos."

He pushed the empty glass across the bar in the universal gesture for more.

He wasn't happy, but he wasn't quite so angry as he had been.

"So, who are you?"

Since he'd backed off, she mellowed and obligingly poured three fingers of the Glendronach for him and slid it back across the bar. "Katherine Ann Pryde, called Kitty. For all the good that does you, I can name almost everyone else in the Inn, with the exception of you and the other new lady, and the five staff members who don't give their names no matter how you ask."

She shrugged, smiled a little, and asked, "You want to keep shooting in the dark or want me to tell you what we know? Either way, you're going to investigate it for yourself. Everyone does."

He drained the glass again, eyeing her as he did so. Then he pushed the glass over again.

"I'm Dyson, please enlighten me." There was only the hint of sarcasm.

Lifting one eyebrow just slightly in amusement, Kitty poured him another glass. No judgment, because he had nowhere to go, no car to drive, and she'd seen his eyes flash. Non-humans often had greater tolerance for alcohol anyway.

When she pushed the glass across to him, she said, "This is the Madonna Inn. It used to be in San Luis Obispo, California. Now it's in the middle of a four-hour empty scrub desert. Yes, four hours. Four hours in every direction. It's not the same every time. The distances change with how fast you travel, but it's always four hours. If you push past the four hour point, you end up back at the inn.

"There are five employees in the hotel. They don't seem to have names or interest in telling them to us. No matter who asks or how, they don't know anything more than how to do their jobs and they ave a thing for clean towels. The cook doesn't make anything that doesn't have a chicken component. The other 'guests'" -- She made air quotes around that. "--fill in, cooking--" She gestured herself. "Bartending, taking care of the horses, et cetera.

"No one's been harmed, no one has left, supplies arrive but none of us have been able to figure out when or how. People arrive usually on the first and fifteenth of the month. The Innkeeper knows your name, you'll have a room already, and no luck changing it if you hate it. If you have two beds, you've probably got a ghost for a roommate. Oh, and on Valentine's Day, there was some kind of a lust plague."

She brushed her hands together showily. "I think that covers the basics."

He took a moment to take that in, and this time he sipped his drink.

"Lust plague. Two words you don't often hear together."