milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

amy,
sandry

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Amy spent most of the morning in a Meeting. Not a Council Meeting -- that would have taken all morning and all afternoon and all evening and possibly all of tomorrow morning as well. This was a smaller, more selective Meeting Of Only Those People Who Might Actually Contribute Useful Ideas, and (subsequently) Things Got Discussed Rationally.

But since then, an awful lot of other people (most of whom have not had useful ideas) have dropped by the Queen's Study to comment, complain, lament, wail, bemoan, or otherwise react to the Situation in not-terribly-helpful ways. And so Amy has come to Milliways, for a break and a place to focus.

She comes in this evening, still dressed up from her meeting this morning, frowning hard at a Report, a four-foot roll of parchment covered in the small precise hand of her husband's clerk.

She doesn't look happy, and it would be fair to say she's not exactly paying strict attention to where she's going.

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Sandry has traveled extensively in her short life, so she's generally not put off by odd dress and manners.

But the dress and manners she sees on many of the people in this strange place are very odd indeed. Which is why the woman (who seems deeply engrossed in a document) catches her eye, and Sandry automatically drifts in her direction. She looks not unlike someone that she might meet in her uncle's court in Emelan.

"Pardon me, ma'am?" she asks hesitantly.

Amy's eyes come up from the document automatically and almost immediately, then down slightly to find the face of the girl who has just addressed her.

"Can I help you?" she asks, gently and in a fairly friendly manner.

Newbies have a certain look. Amy has met a lot of them.

Sandry smiles in response.

"I think I'm...not lost exactly." Sandry had known precisely where she was going when she ended up here after all.

"I'm just not entirely certain of where I am."

Not the same thing as lost. Not exactly.

"Ah," says Amy. "Yes, that happens here.

"This place is known as Milliways, and people come here from all sorts of times and places. Most of us were nto expecting to find it when first we did. Actually, I've never meet anyone who was expecting to find it, now that I think about it.

"I'm Amy."

Sandry bobs a polite curtsy.

She can tell that this woman--Amy--is of high rank, though she can only guess at the exact degree. And it never hurts to err on the side of courtesy.

"My name's Sandry."

The girl's eyes drift to her new surroundings almost of their own accord.

"This isn't part of Winding Circle Temple?" she asks, even though she is quite certain that the answer will be 'no'.

"It's lovely to meet you, Sandry."

Amy doesn't curtsey, but there's a slight incline of her head. Sandry, while clearly of some rank, would have to be a queen in her own right to outrank Amy at this point.

"No one has ever mentioned to me that it is," says Amy. "And I've been visiting this place for several years. I first found it in a palace kitchen pantry.

"Is Winding Circle Temple your home?"

If Amy were going to guess (not that she is, she's been here too long for that), she would say that the girls's clothing either indicates mourning or a religious order.

"Yes ma'am," Sandry replies. "Well, for the last few months. I came here...there in late winter."

"It's in the realm of Emelan?" The question is clear in the statement.

Sandry is wondering just how far removed from her new home she is.

"You really can just call me 'Amy,'" she says.

"And I'm afraid I've not heard of Emelan, but that also happens here. People come from a great many worlds. I live in a kingdom called Ambergeldar, on Earth."

Or at least on Amy's version of Earth.

"I'm afraid I've never heard of Ambergeldar."

The idea of having stepped out of her own world is at once marvelous and disconcerting. It makes Sandry think of standing on the seashore watching the water pull away and then rush back in. Mildly dizzying.

"Milliways," she repeats. It's a rather odd word. "It's magic then, isn't it?"

Big magic.

"Yes," says Amy. "Rather a lot of it. And some of the other patrons here have their own magic as well.

"I'm not one of them."

Sandry smiles shyly.

"Neither am I," she replies.

Even as she says it a memory floats to the surface--a braid of silk thread glowing in the darkness.

But Sandry isn't certain it is even a true memory. More likely it had been a mad waking dream. If she had magic, it would have been discovered when she was much younger.

"But the place where I live--Winding Circle Temple--there's lots of magic there."

~~The mun is guessing from Miss Sandry's user name that there's hope . . .~~

"Then you should be all right. Some people come here from places without any at all, and it's a lot to adjust to, I suspect."

Amy smiles.

"Are you any kind of initiate at the Temple?"

Sandry wrinkles her button nose in something like disbelief.

"Worlds with no magic? That must be very strange."

How would a world work without magic?

She shakes her head at Amy's question.

"No. I'm just there for my schooling. A lot of children go to Winding Circle to be educated. Some become dedicates, but not all of them."

"Ah, I see," says Amy.

She knows of similar set-ups in various places.

"You'll no doubt find a lot of things here that will seem odd at first. And at second and third, as well, in some cases."

"What sorts of things?" Sandry asks curiously.

No matter where one is traveling, it is always good to have some idea of the local customs. To avoid mistakenly giving offense.

"Heavens, let me think. Well, the way people dress, the words they use, what they would consider normal, the way they approach things. This as basic and everyday as those. And other, larger things. Bar, who serves on her own, very sophisticated magic even for those who are used to magic. The way the scenery outside can change without warning -- we had mountains up and appear not too long ago."

There's also the Window, which Amy tries not to look at, even after all this time.

"I see that," Sandry replies, looking around at Milliways again.

There are very few in her line of sight that Sandry would classify as 'normal'.

"Still, it's always rather exciting. Learning about new people and how they do things."

There's some determination behind the philosophy.

"Oh, yes. There are some rather wonderful people and things here. Good friends to be made.

"And I met my husband here," Amy adds, with a smile, "so I'm rather fond of the place."

Sandry grins. She's not marriage-minded in the way that many other young girls of her station are, but she can certainly appreciate a romantic story.

"It's always good to make friends," she says.

She's working on that very thing already in her new accommodations.

Amy wasn't marriage-minded, either, before she met Perry.

"It certainly makes life more pleasant to have them," says Amy.

"I should introduce you to Bar."

Fortunately Sandry has several years before she has to worry about marriage-mindedness.

She nods. "It does," she replies.

"Bar is a person?"

"No," says Amy. "But she's very nice."

Amy sets off for Bar in the manner of a person who is used to being followed when she sets off somewhere.

Sandry follows close on her heels.

She's very curious at what this 'Bar' is that is both not a person yet very nice.

A dog perhaps? Or a pet animal of some other sort?

Bar is . . . a bar.

"Good evening, Bar," says Amy, and there is a slight curtsey this time. Old habits and all.

"May I present Sandry of Winding Circle Temple in Emelan?

"Sandry, this is Bar. If you need anything while you're here, she can get it for you."

Sandry looks at Amy. Then at the deserted wooden structure. Then back at Amy.

She automatically lowers her voice to a whisper, as if afraid that Bar might overhear and take umbrage.

"Do you mean the furniture?"

"Yes," says Amy.

"She makes very good tea. Bar, if you wouldn't mind . . ."

Tea for two appears.

"Thank you, dear."

Sandry is suitably impressed. She's seen magic, but never quite like this. At least not without a mage present.

So she bobs a curtsy of her own.

"Thank you, Bar," she echoes.

"Shall we?" Amy asks, picking up the tray, and heading for an empty table.

There's a small plate of cookies, too, though Amy doesn't take any.

Sandry settles in her chair, sitting very properly. Though she does sneak one hand up to attempt to tug her veil back into place. The things are forever trying to slide out of her hair.

"I'd wager not even the mages at Lightsbridge could make tea out of thin air," she says with a grin.

Lightsbridge mages, from what she has heard, tend to be of the snobbish variety.

"And are the mages at Lightsbridge the best, at least in their own opinions?"

Sandry grins and nods.

She gives her veil one final adjustment--it feels more secure now, though it's now pouffing a bit oddly on the top of her head.

"That's what people say. Of course, Winding Circle is convinced that its mages are the best."

Sandry likes Winding Circle; out of loyalty she'll vote for them in the magical rivalry department.

"I suspect any two organizations that do the same thing have contrary views on the opinion of who is best," says Amy, drily.

"Do you need help with that?" Amy asks, having noticed the struggles with the veil.

Looking a bit self-conscious, Sandry feels the top of her head. Grimacing, she tugs the bothersome veil out of her hair entirely.

"I can never get them to stay on right," she says, a bit exasperated.

"Nothing that's meant to stay on your head is easy to keep on right," says Amy.

Like crowns. It takes an awful lot of arranging to make a crown stay where it's meant to.

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