milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Jane had gone home and worried that her mother or Cassandra would wonder about the bandage on her neck but Dr. Cullen did a good job and no one noticed.

Though she found her dreams were slightly richer as if there was something strange and full of passion inside her. She would wake up and try to write them but they slipped from her hand like the morning fog.

When a door to Milliways appeared, she at first hesitated but then went through to order a pot of tea and keep trying to write what she could not quite grasp.

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Although her powers don't work here, Melpomene still does what comes by instinct.

Naturally attracted to the pen (it's her vocation, after all), Melpomene drifts in seemingly Brownian motion towards the writer.

Jane at the moment is not paying too much attention to anyone moving towards her as she searches for a way to describe a fleeting feeling.

She'd know these things if she weren't in the bar--

that sense of something just out of your grasp--

but she can still see the signs. She stops by Jane, and, without actually speaking, manages to convey a soft noise of sympathy at writer's block.

The sound makes Jane look up and smile absently at the other woman,

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

"Sorry," she says, starting.

(Clearly she hasn't had enough practice being in a place where she can't just blend into the background.)

"I'm a writer, of sorts, and I can see the signs of struggle...
"Or maybe I'm misinterpreting?" she adds, politely.

Jane is unsure whether to be pleased that the woman can see she is a writer or nervous that her struggle is obvious,

"No, you are not, ma'am. I have been trying to recall something that is either the fragment of a dream or a memory."

"Ah, yes..."

She nods, vaguely. "Those are always hard to pin down."

She reaches up to touch a bandage on her neck,

"Oh yes. It is so hard to not know what you know or have forgotten."

Melpomene follows the gesture with curious eyes, but says instead:

"Yes. Sometimes impossible."

"I hope its not impossible, ma'am."

"Depends on your inspiration, I suppose," she says, not without irony.

"I'm not sure if its inspiration as much as something that I cannot recall."

Only half-joking: "Tried hypnosis?"

"No, I have not tried anything since I'm not sure I would know where to begin."

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