(no subject)

[lark_in_flight]

"Papa!" The voice which sounds through the opening front door is a young woman's, light and sweet and eager. The voice's owner follows in a billow of skirts, glancing back over her shoulder into a homey little hallway as she calls to someone unseen. "Papa, are you quite ready?"

She turns her head -- and falters in astonishment as she crosses the threshold, and her boots hit the Milliways floorboards.

"Papa...?" Her hand falls away from the doorknob, and it swings delicately closed behind her.

She's a young woman of perhaps sixteen or seventeen, her rosy face framed by delicate ringlets escaping from a silk-covered bonnet. Her dress is of blue wool, sloping down at the shoulders, puffed out wide at the sleeves and gathering again at the wrists, her skirts a bell over layers of petticoats, a warm shawl wrapped about her shoulders, gloves on her small hands, a basket over one arm, small boots just visible -- in other words, the height of dainty femininity for 1832, and doubtless extremely impractical and peculiar to the eyes of most of Milliways' patrons.

Welcome to Milliways, Cosette.

Comments

[road_to_calvary]

There is nothing impractical or peculiar about the vision before this man's eyes. He hears that voice; he turns. He sees her face; the weight of the world drops from his shoulders.

'Cosette.'

It is a whisper. And then, it is a laugh.

'Cosette.'

[lark_in_flight]

She hasn't heard him; she's regarding the room with astonished bewilderment.

Uncertainly, she touches the back of a chair. It certainly feels solid and real, but --

Her eyes alight on her father. Her brow clears, immediately. He will know what's going on; everything is all right, then, if her father is here. (He may not explain a thing, of course, but it will be all right.)

"Papa!" she cries. "What has happened to the garden?"

[road_to_calvary]

It is all he can do to keep himself from falling upon her. It has been eight months. Eight months, for a man who can hardly bear being parted from her for more than two days at a stretch. He is white-faced as he stands before her, relief pouring from him in a flood. He holds himself steady, though cannot hold back his smile.

'My child. You are here.'

And yet, as he stands before her, fear starts its dark descent upon his heart. Realisation spreads. There are dangerous beings here. And there are people who know his name. People who know his past.

For a moment, no more words will come.

[lark_in_flight]

"...Papa?"

She has no words for the expression on his face. All she knows is that it was not there a few moments ago in their house in the Rue-de-l'Homme Armé, and that it makes something inside her feel small and cold and scared.

Not of him. Never of him; never. But the world contains many other dangers. She couldn't name them, she knows almost nothing of them, but she knows they exist.

Her voice is quieter now, and unsure. "How you look at me! What's the matter?"

She catches up his broad hand between her own small gloved ones.

[street_sparrow]

...he knows that face, Gavroche is sure, from somewhere long ago and fleeting in his memory, and the way she's dressed is familiar. But her name... escapes him, if he ever knew it.

He approaches, smiling politely.

"Salut, mam'selle. Is this your first time here?"

[lark_in_flight]

"No, of course not. This is my garden. But -- but what on earth has happened?"

[street_sparrow]

"As you opened the door to your garden", he explains carefully, "you were... waylaid. This place is called Milliways, and when you step back through the front door, you'll see your garden just as you were expecting."

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman is sitting at a table not far from the door, going over the notes for his Easter sermon, which he's sketched out in a few keywords on three index cards. It's been years since he had to do this.

He looks up when the young lady from the 19th century turns up and calls out for her father.

"Can I help you, Miss?" he asks.

[lark_in_flight]

"What has happened to my garden?"

She asks it in open, honest bewilderment as she turns to him. She recognizes the outfit, then, and dips an automatic little curtsey, adding a bewildered "Father?" to the end.

Priests are always welcomed, always respected in the Fauchelevent household. But she has no idea what this stranger is doing here -- nor what any of the rest of these people and objects are doing.

[witchfinder_general]

"The same thing that happened to my office at home," Father Harman says. "The door to this place got in the way. You're no longer where and when you were, Miss. This is Milliways, known as the bar at the end of the universe."

[electro_kinetic]

Wow.

Now that's a getup--Noriko has to take a minute to look at it all, though she may be just as strange to Cosette in her bold black and yellow top and tight jeans.

"Lost?" she asks somewhat gently.

[lark_in_flight]

Ain't it just, says the mun.

Cosette glances at her -- and is, for a moment, struck dumb with astonishment.

Her hair is blue! Bluer than the brightest flower of summer!

[electro_kinetic]

Nori can tolerate some degree of staring--hey, her clothes are probably pretty weird to this girl--and so she stands still for about half a minute before waving her hand to get the girl's attention. (In Cosette's defense the metal gloves and the fact that her hair is not only blue but braided into a mohawk probably takes longer than thirty seconds.)

"Hello?"

[change_my_story]

Matilda's enjoying a supper of chicken tikka masala while doing some questions in a geometry text book when she hears the voice calling out.

The lady's dress is definitely what catches her interest, a far cry from what she sees at home in the 1980s. She's not sure if the girl is dressed practically or not (really, it depends on what she plans on doing), but the dress and all its lace is pretty and right out of a story book.

"Hello. Your dress is very pretty." Matilda herself is in a pink and purple dress with a short sleeved shirt underweight, clean of course and certainly not of poor condition, but not screaming wealth either.

[lark_in_flight]

No, and no petticoats at all, and it's so short -- Cosette is instantly sorry for the poor girl, whose family clearly is desperately poor to only be able to clothe her in something like that. But proud, too: the colors are bright, and every stitch of it very clean.

"Thank you," she says with a warm smile, manners taking precedence for a moment over even her utter bewilderment. "The colors of yours are very pretty too."

Slightly peculiar, but pretty, and not the kind of thing most poor families can afford. A windfall or a special expense, perhaps.

[change_my_story]

"Thank you, they're my favorite, second to rainbow colored." Precocious child or not, she's still a child and rainbow is still a color.

She takes in the lady a little more, noting her expression and posture-or what she could make out from the large dress and sleeves (part of her wanted to know if she was hiding anything under there). "You're new to this place, aren't you."

[themysciran_diana]

"Hello," says a warm voice from nearby.

"You're new here, I take it?"

Said voice comes from a tall -- very tall -- woman with dark hair, blue eyes, and a very eye-catching costume. The eye-catching comes not only from the color, but from the cut.

It comes from wearing a unitard. Go figure.

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette turns, her mouth opening to say no, this is my garden, but what's happened to it?

The woman's dress -- or, well, her undress -- stops the words for a moment, and puts a flush on her cheeks.

That's not rags. It's not even underwear. Whatever forced this poor (and giant) woman to wear such a thing in public, and how on earth can she stand tall and smile while she's doing so?

"What's happened?" is what she manages, a little weakly.

[themysciran_diana]

"To you? Or to the place you meant to come to?"

Diana's smile warms, just a fraction.

"If you'd be so kind as to come this way, we can both clear the entryway and get you a seat. Perhaps some water, as well? It can be a bit of a shock, Milliways."

She'll move to start escorting the young lady to a nearby chair in a quiet corner.

"In the meantime, I'm Diana. Pleased to meet you."

[starrydome]

He sees the young women enter. And he sees the look on her face.

And so he rises from his seat and takes a few steps in her direction, saying, "Be not alarmed, young lady," in his rich, pleasant voice. For he is a father and should his daughter end up here, he would want someone to greet her warmly and alleviate her of her fears.

He is a Lord among The Firstborn of Arda and he dresses the part. Long flowing robes of lavender and grey hides slim trousers and soft leather boots and his braided hair is held in place by tiny silver stars. His face is ageless but his eyes are ancient. And kind.

He is also very tall with the broad shoulders you get from swinging swords and setting bones. So he keeps his distance so as not to crowd her or tower over her. And he keeps his voice low.

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette isn't easy to intimidate in any case, under most circumstances, for the very simple reason that all the life she remembers has been gentle. She has never been offered harm, never frightened intentionally.

(Before that, there were years where there was no kindness at all, and great harm and great fear. But she's forgotten those. Elrond is not a person who would remind her of them.)

She stares up at him, unafraid but astonished. He's very tall, and Cosette is from a time when people were short; she's never seen someone of such a height, nor someone dressed in such a fashion. When she dips a curtsey in greeting, it's as much from the timidity of awe as from ingrained courtesy.

"Please, sir," she says, "what has happened to my father's garden?"

[starrydome]

"Your garden is still where it has always been," he says, kindly, stepping a little closer. "For a moment the door in your home that leads to it has merely opened elsewhere. You have stepped into Milliways. It is a crossroad of sorts, of time and worlds. But what matters most," he stresses this slightly, "is that this is a safe place where none may do others harm. "

And then he gives her a small bow, one hand on his chest. The way they did back in the days of the Lindon Court. "I am Elrond Half-Elven, and I too am at times a guest here."

[whipped_weapon]

OOC: Is this closed to new pups? It looks interesting.

[lark_in_flight]

[OOC: Sadly, I'm going to have to say yes -- I think I'm about at my limit of threads to keep up with. But feel free to tag him into any EP of hers another time!]

[whipped_weapon]

OOC: Sure, thanks! :3