milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

mary bennet,
sameth

(no subject)

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 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."

"I've occasionally wondered if having some brothers in the mix might not have in fact had a quieting influence."

Granted, boys can be boisterous, but there's a different level of chaos that comes from having a whole house of girls.

"Are any of your siblings traveling with you?"

"No, it is just me," he says. "The benefit of being the younger brother. No name, but not as many obligations either."

Edited 2012-07-23 10:58 (UTC)

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