EP: post-AU week

[harryhotspur]

Hotspur had a weird night-- but that will happen when you temporarily have two overlapping lifetimes' worth of strange dreams, instead of just the one. Actually, he had a weird morning as well. His memory of the last-- day? few days?-- is oddly hazy, in a way that makes him wonder if perhaps he was ill, though he feels perfectly well and normal now.

Plus there were two dogs in his room. Which is fantastic, of course. But they're not his dogs, they're dogs he's never seen before. Not that this stops him from bringing them down to the bar with him; one of them, the older, curls up beneath his chair, while the younger one sniffs around just in case anyone dropped anything on the ground that even remotely resembles food.

Hotspur himself sits at a table, making his way through a plate of eggs. He gives off a different kind of air than usual, somehow simultaneously more settled and more confident. This might be because of the other unexpected thing he found in his room this morning, which of course he strapped on and brought downstairs with him, because etiquette be damned.

Yes, at long last, Harry Hotspur has a sword. (But don't worry, he's not looking particularly inclined to use it.)

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[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly had slept late: shockingly late, embarrassingly late, the clock had read something close to seven when he woke, and then he'd lain in bed for several more minutes collecting his thoughts. They were very strangely divided. He feels as if he'd spent the last week being in two places at the same time--being two Feuillys--flying-- He's slow getting dressed, slow and clumsy, realizes now and then that he's been talking to himself, so he sits and reads for a little while before heading down.

It's still pretty much autopilot that takes him to the bar and gets him coffee and a bagel. (And fruit, of Bar's volition.) Something very like autopilot also takes him to Harry's table, and he has to stand blinking down at his feet for several seconds before he can process the existence of the young hound nosing about and whipping everything with her eagerly wagging tail. And then the older one, who has stood creakily and paced over to lean against him.

Feuilly scratches his head and looks over to Harry. "Dogs?"

[harryhotspur]

"I know not whence they came," Harry says, sounding remarkably untroubled by this fact. "But they are goodly dogs, are they not?"

Some half-lingering muscle memory makes him reach across the table for Feuilly's hand-- he gets so far as brushing his fingertips against Feuilly's wrist before he remembers himself and jerks, startled, away.

"I did think--" (Needing something to do with his hand now, he runs it through his hair.) "I had strange dreams."

[tu_vas_triompher]

He blinks at Harry's touch, blinks at Harry's startled retreat. Blinks at the dogs. Scratches the back of his neck. Puts down his breakfast tray.

"--Yes. Yes, they seem like nice dogs. Hullo, old fellow. It's--Harry, it's all right for dogs to have a piece of a bagel? --I think I had dreams too."

Plunk. Feuilly sits down. Scrubbing his hands through his hair doesn't wake him up any more than it has the last half-dozen times. "--Why do you have your sword?" It's breakfast. Do we do swords at breakfast now? Wait. Wait, hang on. "Where did you get the sword?"

[harryhotspur]

Harry shrugs-- sure, why not? But at the mention of the sword, he breaks into a broad grin.

"It is not my sword, but 'tis a very fine one. Perchance he who left the dogs left it me as well. Methought I dreamed we were in England and-- and found it there," he says uncertainly. "But I think that cannot be. For it was not-- I was not--"

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly crumbles off a piece of bagel for--Hector, why does he think the dog's name is Hector? Whatever his name is, the dog approves, and goes so far as to sit up and plant his head on Feuilly's lap.

"Do you--" He pauses and tries to assemble a question. "--You don't remember a--a castle, do you? Um, I mean--obviously you remember castles, you come from--but I mean, last week?"

He breaks off more bagel for the dog. Whose name is Hector.

[harryhotspur]

"Yes!" Harry agrees eagerly. "Ay, so I do! But it was not-- thought I knew it well, but now that I think of it, it was no castle I have ever been to. But in my dream, I walked the halls as if they were mine own. Thou wert there," he adds. "But-- different."

There was-- a bird? But not only that. It is, in fact, less that Feuilly himself had been different and more that Harry had somehow thought of him differently, thought of them differently, but he can't tell here, now if that different was good or bad.

[tu_vas_triompher]

He nods slowly, and then more eagerly. "Yes--I remember--all last week, I was--just different. But not. And you were--" Feuilly rubs the back of his neck, but he doesn't have words for it either. He has an image of Harry easier in his movements, softer somehow, but somehow unhappier. Or differently happy and differently unhappy.

"--So let's see this sword?" he asks suddenly. There's no understanding Milliways, but they might as well get on. And Harry has wanted a proper sword so much! "Oh, and what's the other dog's name?" The one who is now barking at an aggrieved waitrat.

[onceaviking]

Someone tall and pale passes by and stops, noticing the sword.

And trying to place it.

Eric is dressed for work. Tight black jeans, tight black tank top. Woefully underdressed for Harry's time. It does show off his biceps nicely.

[harryhotspur]

Hotspur has, if nothing else, grown used to the weirdness of other people's clothes.

He sees Eric looking to the sword and says cheerfully, "Good day to you, sir."

(Yes, it is the miracle of Hotspur in a genuinely good mood that has nothing to do with imminent battle, not that Eric could know how rare it is.)

[onceaviking]

"Not really," says Eric who was headed for bed.
Still, it's a nice blade.

He nods at it. " 13-14- something?" he asks.
As in hundreds.

[harryhotspur]

Hotspur, not the quickest on the uptake, takes a moment before he realizes that Erik is talking about dates.

"In truth, I do not know," he says. Since that would require being a little more certain about where it came from. "But I would guess it made in 1400, or something very near."

[onceaviking]

"It's not yours then?" Eric says, stepping a little closer.
"It's not Damascene steel , is it?"

[harryhotspur]

"It is and is not," he says. "For I think I was not myself when I brought it here, but there is none else who may claim it. Though I own I know nothing of its making or prior uses. It has seen fair little use, to judge by its edge, and by that if nothing else, I know it cannot be mine." This delivered, as such a comment cannot help but be, with a cocky little grin.

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck has a notebook with him, a pencil tucked into it, and a bothered expression.

-- Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a tail wag, and his whole demeanor shifts. He changes direction, smiling, and crouches low to offer his hand to the younger of the two dogs. He assumes if the older wants, he'll come over for pets.

"Well, you're beautiful, aren't you?"

[harryhotspur]

She approaches happily and ducks her head under Chuck's hand to receive the petting that is obviously her due. Why yes, she is beautiful, and if he could just scratch right there that would be splendid, thanks. Don't mind her, she'll just be nosing around Chuck's feet to make sure he hasn't maybe accidentally dropped any molecule of something edible.

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck laughs quietly, ruffling her ears with one hand and setting down his notebook so he can run the other up and down her back.

He glances up. "Oh -- hey, Harry."

[harryhotspur]

Oh, yes, very good. She expresses her approval by flopping to the ground and rolling over to expose her white, speckled belly. Here now, please.

"That is Lady," Harry says. "--well, I have called her Lady, and she has made no complaint."

[andinfluencepeople]

"Lady works, then," Chuck says, obediently rubbing her belly. "I didn't know you had dogs?"

[harryhotspur]

"In England I did," he says. "I confess I know not quite how they came to be here. These are not the same as those I had, but--" But he's hardly going to turn down sudden magical dogs.

[mjolnir_retriever]

The door opens on a corridor that's... well, it sure looks like part of a castle or cathedral or something! But not exactly the kind either version of Harry might find familiar. The ceiling is high, and there's a great deal of stone, but rather than rushes and tapestries the overwhelming impression is one of gold and ornate knotwork, and more metal, and braziers of open flame, and more shininess.

It closes again behind a large man who also gives off an impression of metal and shininess. (And irritation and biceps. Unlike the hall.)

He doesn't have a sword, but he does have a big hammer in one hand. Finding himself in Milliways, he looks abruptly less irritated and more cheerful.

[harryhotspur]

Harry knows what a person who expects to be acknowledged looks like (or he thinks he does, anyway), and offers Big Shiny Biceps Man a nod as he passes. This air of general shininess is all that keeps Harry from commenting on the hammer-- though he can't help but give it a once-over.

[mjolnir_retriever]

Big Shiny Biceps Man expects to be noticed -- and heeded if he speaks -- but (in Milliways) not necessarily to be acknowledged by passing strangers. Still, he's fine with it! He nods back, genially and with an interested look. Hello, small but probably competent mortal warrior! And hello, mortal warrior's dogs.

[harryhotspur]

Dogs! Lady bounds over to collect the petting toll she is exacting from all passing strangers. And Hotspur can't keep it in any longer: "...that is a passing large hammer, sir."

[mjolnir_retriever]

Thor's touchiness about sovereignty in matters like tolls does not extend to dog-petting ones. HELLO LADY. WHO'S A GOOD DOG! YES YOU ARE!

Thor doesn't actually say this. But he does set down the passing large hammer in order to ruffle Lady's ears with both hands and grin at her enthusiasm.

"It is," he agrees, glancing over at Hotspur. (Thor loves his hammer. That probably shows.)

[harryhotspur]

"For passing large nails?"

...he's pretty sure that's not what it's for. But it doesn't look like any war hammer he's ever seen, and anyway, that's not exactly the kind of weapon one usually just carries around.