milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

mary bennet,
sameth

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According to Mr. Lowell, the sketches in a naturalist’s notebook should be more about accuracy than artistic merit. It is, he explained, about seeing the world as it is rather than a romanticized version of it. Mary had pointed out that his sketches were both accurate and reasonably artistic (he’d been drawing a rabbit that they spotted by the pond). He’d said it was just the result of a lot of practice.

That had made sense to Mary, so she’s practicing, her own notebook on the table before her. She’s brought a model to the bar with her; one that is much slower and more easily portable than a rabbit. The largish caterpillar is sitting on a square of stiff parchment, eating its way through a scattering of leaves.

Pencil in hand, Mary is attempting to render it as accurately as possible. While simultaneously keeping one wary eye on it.

Just in case it decides to charge.

Botherable.

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He still isn't certain about this place at all. And it gnaws at him; that he cannot think of a way to make this to his advantage.

He is half tempted to push - to see if that wolf was right about rules and retribution - but he recognizes the impulse for what it is. Still, it might be fun.

He drifts through the bar, clearly a gentleman of the late 1700 and just as clearly out of place.

If nothing else, at least he can get a feel for the place and the people coming here. It might give him some ideas.

Mary eyes the man as he drifts past. He's notable just in that she's never seen someone who looks as if he could be from her time here.

It would not immediately occur to her to speak up and ask him his origins. That is not the action of a well-bred lady, and while Mary has begun to adjust her manners to accommodate Milliways, she's far less likely to bend them around a person who seems to be from her own era.

Still, Mary keeps one curious eye on him as she attempts to accurately render her caterpillar.

He is used to attention - and used to pinpointing it. When next he passes her table he makes sure to achieve eye contact. He tips an imaginary hat in her direction and smiles at her.

The face is a tool. Malleable and useful, able to project any kind of emotion, true or not. Right now, he manages to look relieved in a manly way. The way one might at the sight of a friend in a strange new place.

She's plain. They tend to have a nurturing streek.

Mary blushes a bit at being caught spying on another patron. But she's a bit harder to rattle than she was when she first found Milliways.

Such is the influence of the End of the Universe and the people here.

Mary gives a proper nod in return.

He walks a little closer. "I am terribly sorry having to impose myself on you. Without a proper introduction. But this place..."

He trails off. Better to let her talk. He'll learn more from that. He's played up his accent a little, the rhythm of his words matching waves lapping against rocks.

At that he gets a rather sympathetic smile. This time, Mary rises and bows properly.

"That's quite all right," she says. "Proper introductions are hard to come by in Milliways, and most of the patrons generally assume that one will introduce one's self. It's strange, but it's expected and not seen as a breach of propriety."

She's adjusted to it.

"I'm Miss Mary Bennet," she adds. "Are you new to Milliways?"

"Then I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Mary Bennet," he says, returning the bow. "My name is Erik Sture and I am quite new to, was it Milliways? New to England as well in fact. I arrived only last week."

For a man his size, he can actually pull off quite a lot of boyish charm. It can be quite useful, making him seem more like someone's older brother, than a potential threat.

It works well enough. At least, he does not seem threatening.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Sture."

Mary tries to place the surname's origin, and can't quite do so.

"Goodness, you've had a great deal of adjustment to make in a very short time, then."

"If I can help you in any way, please let me know. I've several month's experience with Milliways, and I come from Hertfordshire."

"I have," he agrees with a chuckle. "I might very well have stayed at home in Sweden had I known my trip would be this eventful."

He pretends to look around the room and then looks back at Mary.

"Hertfordshire? I am not sure where that is, I am afraid. I have stayed briefly in London, but I have an invitation to Bath, so I intend to go there soon."

Mary has studied geography, but knows little of Sweden except that she has a notion that it's cold there and was a homeland of the Vikings.

"Hertfordshire is a bit to the northwest of London. A day's journey, give or take."

"Bath is lovely. I mean, I've never been there," Mary amends, "but everyone says that it's lovely. And the waters are said to be quite beneficial to one's health."

It's something of a tourist hotspot.

"You seem to be taking Milliways very calmly, Mr. Sture," she observes.

He laughs a little ruefully.

"I still do not know quiet what to make of it, I must admit," he answers. "But to see you sit here so calmly makes me think that this place is not terrible. If a lovely young woman is at ease here."

And then he returns to the previous topic. "I have heard this too; about the water. Truth be told, I am going because my father has a friend there who has kindly invited me. And as I longed to travel, this seemed a good opportunity to do so."

Fate really had smiled on him, when he'd found that letter in the young Swedes cabin. after having drained and dumped him. A family friend with money who had never known the young man. And who had the ability to offer him use of rooms in the city of Bath. Undisturbed rooms. It made it so much easier having a place to wash off the dirt in the evening.

There's a bit of a wry smile at the flattery. Mary's lately not as hard on her own looks as he has been in the past, yet she knows she has no great claim to beauty or loveliness.

Still, polite men generally feel obligated to compliment a woman's looks, and she would not hold his good manners against him.

"I fear I was far less calm on my first visit," she confesses. "And the situation was magnified by the fact that I found myself Bound for some time."

"But while it's a strange place, the people are by and large kind. And there's always something of interest to do or see."

Mentally stimulating doesn't even begin to cover it.

"It's a pleasant thing to have opportunities to see new places. I do hope both Bath and Milliways will meet your expectations."

"Bound?"

And despite all his cunning calmness, he actually looks - alarmed - for just a second.

He detest the very notion of captivity. And that is what it has the ring of. Bound.

Mary would sympathize.

"On occasion, a person will come to Milliways only to have their door home vanish for a time," she explains. "That's what happened to me when I first came here. I was stranded for almost three months."

She'd gone back to England after Christmas in Milliways only to find it was still October at home.

"I've been told that in those cases, everyone's door comes back eventually. And it certainly did prove to be true in my case. That made it no less disconcerting at the time."

"Supposedly, Bar will bind people who need to be here for an extended time to learn something. That's one theory at any rate."

"Hmm," Eric says. And that is all the polite answer he can make.

"And this is done by - Bar? The thing there?" He points to the long counter. And the disbelief is definitely not all for show.

"Yes, that is the claim. It is true that Bar seems to have some degree of sentience. She--and I have been told unequivocally that Bar is female--is generally credited with most everything that happens here."

"Though supposedly Milliways is ruled over by someone called the Landlord. He seems to be a most mysterious being, and one who is unseen at that. When I was first Bound here, I attempted to find him so that I could plead my case to be allowed to return home, but no one seemed to have any idea where he might be found."

And it's a quest she has ceased pursuing some time ago.

"That is - most strange."

And nothing he can make sense of right now. So he abandons the topic and instead turns his full attention to Mary.

"So you were Bound here for three months. How did you cope?" Apparently intensely interested.

Mary shrugs a bit.

"It's Milliways. Strange is the order of the day."

Once she'd embraced that, she'd had a much easier time.

"I took a room upstairs," she says, "and barricaded myself in until hunger drove me out. The more I ventured downstairs, the more I came to realize that the people here might be odd, but generally meant no harm."

"I began to make friends. There's also an extensive library upstairs that could keep one occupied for years on end, I think. And the outdoors is very pleasant."

"Do they have night and day here?" he asks, in what he hopes is a distracted manner.

It feels like night.

"Oh, yes. I'm not quite sure how that's managed, since I'm not even certain what they have here is a proper sun, but it does get dark at regular intervals."

Mary doesn't really venture out after dark here, but she does know there's a moon.

"Well, that is good to know," he says. And then he steers the conversation back to her, "And how about your family? Do they know that you travel here?"

The look he gets in response to that question borders on being comical in its surprise.

"Oh, goodness, no," she said. "I'm certain that if I mentioned it at home, I'd be branded mad in a matter of moments."

"And I'm sure I don't have to tell you what an unpleasant fate that would be."

"Of course. And if you feel safe here, I believe that not worrying them is the right thing to do," he agrees. "Do you have a large family?"

Mary nods.

"Rather large. I live with my mother and father and four sisters."

"It does get rather loud and chaotic when everyone is home. I confess, I've come to value being able to escape to Milliways some days."

"I can imagine," he says, smiling a little. "I have an older brother and two younger sisters as well. It can get loud as you say."

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