milliways_bar | (no subject)

A little while after situating herself at the Bar, Kate stretches her tired muscles and decides to take up a more comfortable spot. Closing up her ledger, she heads toward the couches.

Not that she's eavesdropping, but Helena's gleefulness does catch her attention.

"S'a wonderful book."

One petite blonde, a little dusty and work-worn, sixshooter on her hips and hat in hand, smiles amiably at the author.

"Oh? Are you a fan, darling?" She's still beaming over it. "This man's illustrations are just amazing. They go with the text ever so well."

"I am, yes. It's so funny I should stumble 'cross someone readin' it. I was jus' talkin' to a friend about it the other day."

The polished notes of this woman's voice remind her of her father's, though you could hardly tell from her own accent. The Southern drawl is dominant, though her voice is soft and sweet.

She steps closer to get a better look at the drawings.

"My, look at that! I don't believe I've seen this edition yet."

"Oh?" It's innocent enough, but Helena's interest in piqued. "Anything quite good, darling?"

She gets slightly distracted by the illustrations, however. "I had not seen this specific one before either. I am absolutely entranced by his drawings."

Kate's going to have to take a look around the libraries and see if she can't get a copy to pore over later. It's just a sacrifice she'll have to make.

"Hm? Oh, I'm sorry — yes, someone mentioned there were 'moo-vees' based on the author's works, so I asked Miss Bar for every copy she could find an' watched 'em over the course of a few days."

She chuckles, a touch self-deprecating.

"The Time Machine was one'a the first books the Miss gave me when I arrived here, an' I've slowly read through everythin'. Oh, but I'm bein' rude. Beggin' your pardon, I'm Kate Barlow."

Helena might be willing to part with this copy, as she is fairly certain she'll be able to find a copy back home.

"Ah. I have not actually seen any of the movies myself. I have heard mixed reviews on them." She makes a face. Don't even talk to her about the latest War of the Worlds.

"Where are my manners as well, darling." She pauses, smirking a bit. "Helena Wells, always a pleasure to meet a fan."

The latest War of the Worlds was — colorful. And exciting.

Kate prefers the black-and-whites, herself.

She'd recommend as much, but something seems to have run off with her voice. She stands there, all five feet one inch of her turned to stone, lips parted and eyes growing wider by the second. It's most rude, gawping like that, but hopefully Helena can forgive her. She's just a touch starstruck.

She'll be terribly embarrassed about the breathless squeak that passes for acknowledgment once they've parted ways.

Helena laughs, not an unkind or harsh laugh, but the laugh of someone who is cheerfully amused. "Oh, darling, I promise I am not that intimidating. I do mean it, however. It is a pleasure to meet someone who enjoyed my work."

"I — oh. It's a — I'm sorry, how embarrassin'."

She presses her hand to her face, which has already started to turn a little pink.

"I dunno what came over me. The pleasure's all mine, Miss Wells. I feel so foolish for witterin' on like that in front of you, but I honestly am a big fan."

"It's alright. Really it is." He smile is cheerful, disarming. "I don't mind. I am just quite pleased that someone appreciates my work. Also, please call me Helena. Miss Wells just sounds so formal and awkward."

Disarming is a good word for it. Even after everything Howard's had to say about her, Kate wasn't expecting her to be quite so lovely.

She smiles, warm and sincere, and ducks her head bashfully.

"All right. Helena, then. I know a friend'a yours here. Howard Stark? He mentioned you came here; that's what got me started on the moo-vees in the first place, actually. Anyhow, I'm pleased t'make your acquaintance. You're different than I thought you'd be."

Seeing as how she's a beautiful woman and not a man.

"Ah!" She smiles. "Howard is a dear friend, and a good man to know."

A smirk crosses her face and she grins. "Oh? What had you thought?" Probably less in the chest, as most people are shocked to find that she's actually a woman.

"He told me he was takin' you flyin'."

There's nothing wrong with a little innocent inquiry, is there? She sees a certain spark in Howard's eye when he talks about Helena, and she does love seeing her friends happy.

"Well, I'm not sure if this'll be a surprise t'you or not, but — I thought H.G. Wells was a man."

She takes the seat next to her, a little quirk of her mouth following.

"I might've lectured Howard a touch on the value of outspoken women."

"He did, and it was a lovely time." Helped her get over some flying anxiety as well. She's smiling when she talks about him, a grin crossing her face.

Helena laughs, shaking her head. "Oh, everyone does, darling. Charles, my brother, took credit for my work. No one would publish me under my own name, so Charles took my manuscripts in." She makes a face, but laughs again. "Some men need to be reminded of our importance every so often, my dear. It is simply a fact of life."

That grin is all Kate needs to see.

"Sadly, that's all too true. Terrible, someone else takin' credit for your work; however, I reckon it's satisfyin' knowin' how far it's reached."

She gestures around the bar, here on the very edge of the universe itself.

"It really is, darling." Helena grins. "In the end, the fact that people have read and loved my work is worth everything. If Charles wanted the fame, he can take it. My life was complicated enough as it is."

"Oh?"

She wouldn't want to pry, but she is curious.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze falling to the book that has taken up a place in her lap. "It is complicated, however, I was originally born in 1866, and am now living in 2012. I spent some time... out of time, let us say."

"Oh. Oh, my. That's quite the jump ahead."

And, judging by her body language, it sounds like it wasn't entirely intentional. Kate won't remark on it, however.

"I didn't mean t'make you uncomfortable."

"It is not the most comfortable or happiest past, but it is my past." She pauses, her hand going to the locket at her neck. "Do not worry, darling."

She can't help but follow the movement, eyes landing on the locket. Without thought, her hand strays to the pendant around her neck as well.

She smiles tightly.

"I understand. Pasts can be complicated, even in the best circumstances."

She glances down, drawing in a cleansing breath.

"Ah, an' I hear you invent as well?"

"And these were never the best of circumstances." Her hand closes on the locket for a long moment, before she lets it go.

"I do." She becomes a bit more animated, her smile coming back. "Many, if not most of the things in my books are things that I have invented or created."

Perhaps, someday, she'll ask.

It wouldn't be proper tonight.

"Is that so? Truly?"

Kate's eyes widen. She doesn't even know which item to ask about first. Helena was blessed with a wonderful imagination, and so much of what Kate's read has inspired daydreams of seeing it for herself.

[ooc: my brain is absolutely shutting down, do you mind if we slowtime? I am loving these two. :D]

[ooc: I don't mind at all. ^__^ They're wonderful, thank you for the thread so far!]

This is the second book Sherral's seen recently about invasions by space-things.

Which is, along with the glee, enough to make him stop and peer at the cover. He's exchanged his dress uniform for the standard downtime garb of an Archadian soldier - grey wool trousers and a form-fitting dark grey t-shirt - and has a mug of very cheap tea in hand.

"... Is invasion-of-space-things literature common on Earth?"

"Well, not originally. This was one of the first works about space invasion." She waves the book around a bit. "Now there are quite a few, I believe. It is rather, oh, what does Claudia call it... a trope nowadays."

"I do not think I've ever encountered any in my world, but I am - not well read," Sherral says wryly. "I think most people on my world have never really thought about life that isn't on Ivalice."

"Ah. In the time this book was written, there was little thought to life anywhere else either. People did start looking to the heavens as time went on, however." She pauses. "What is Ivalice like? Is that your country or your world?" Her curiosity is getting the better of her.

"We have airships that can travel very high, but we've never left the atmosphere of our world. Er, until yesterday, I was actually rather under the impression that there was very little there," Sherral says ruefully.

He pauses. "Ivalice is my world. My country is Lock Galles, part of the Archadian Empire."

"We actually have a few zeppelins or airships back home, but they are not exactly viable means of transport."

She thinks for a moment. "That is not a world I have heard of. What is it like there?" She pauses. "I do so apologise. My curiosity is getting the better of me, and I am being rude. I am Helena, darling. Pleasure to meet you."

"Zeppelins? You mean - large balloons filled with air? We use glossair rings for our airships. The Rozarrians briefly used zeppelins, before they started using oil-based engines instead."

Beat.

He ducks his head slightly. "Forgive me, I should have made introductions instead of prematurely questioning you. Captain Sherral Maduin, Archadian army. Pleasure to meet you."

"Glossair? I haven't come across that before?. What is that? Is it a sort of magic?" She's getting a bit more animated.

"Do not worry, darling. I have been letting my curiosity get the better of me as well."

"It's - if you'll permit me a moment," Sherral says, and quickly heads to the bar, coming back with pencil, crayons and paper.

He quickly sketches a diagram - a ring shaped machine that seems to be composed of several rings of crystal on a mechanism to rotate very quickly, with the inner part of the ring exposed. It's connected to three larger engines that appear to operate by running electricity (generated by crystals that he quickly colours yellow for two of the engines, and by oil for a third) through large chunks of stone that he hastily colours silver.

The drawing is - crude in places, but surprisingly mechanically detailed.

"Electricity is generated and run through skystones, a kind of air-aligned crystallised magic in my world. This produces a supercharged gas form of the same magic in its 'hot' state - the gas form of magic is usually cool - which is then channelled to the glossair rings where it accumulates in the crystals there. By rotating the rings quickly, vortexes are created that allow the ship to fly."

[ooc: My brain is shutting down, so do you mind some slowtime? I will tag back tomorrow! Helena and I are loving this interaction!]

[ooc: No problem!]