milliways_bar | EP: Kate Barlow | Main Bar, Library (age spell plot)

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EP: Kate Barlow | Main Bar, Library (age spell plot)

It had been a quiet day for Kate when the loud BWA-BOOOOOOOM shook the bar. She'd just settled down after her nightly chores in the stables, easing the tension out of her back in an armchair by the fire, sipping on a hot tea with bourbon in.

(It's getting close to All Hallows' Eve, and that's making her anxious.)

However, she didn't have all that long to think about the approaching holiday before she was seeing the room from an even lower vantage point, face scrunched in distaste at the liquor on her tongue. She blinked at the teacup and quickly set it down, jumped to her feet, and looked around the strange room.

" ... Daddy?"

Kate Barlow, aged twelve, was off in search of her father.

What she found instead were the libraries.

Now, far calmer, a young Kate sits amid a pile of books, occasionally sweeping cautious glances around the room. She's finding the words of Jules Verne to be a comfort at present. Clearly she slipped and bumped her head during chores, or stumbled onto a glorious vessel somewhere in deep space. She isn't quite sure what to make of it right now, but anywhere with an endless supply of science fiction can't be all that bad.

[ooc: open forever! you may find Kate in the library or the main bar. if your character wants to be in on a heist, they can take this opportunity to meet Kate. the actual heist will happen in a later post, so it's not required you tag this one (I'll update all interested parties once it's all in place). if you'd like me to send Kate round to one of your posts, just let me know!

tiny!tag: age spell plot]

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Kate bounces on the balls of her feet, too overcome with excitement to mind her manners.

"Lord Above, would y'look at that? Look! S'a real live train job! Heavens to Betsy, how excitin'!"

Tommy has to giggle at her reaction.

"Well, it's sort of a real live train job. They're all actors, and this was filmed a long time ago-- at least, a long time ago from my time. But it's still exciting to watch, that's for sure."

But it looks so real.

"An' you have one of these tee-vees in your house? So you can watch this anytime y'like? What extravagance!"

"Yeah, but it ain't as-- uh, futuristic. It's a big heavy box with knobs on it and antennas sticking out on top of it, and the picture ain't nearly as clear as this. Sometimes you can't get a good picture at all, and that's when you gotta move the antennas around, or sometimes my dad just hits the side of it and cusses."

He adds the last bit with a chuckle. It may give Kate a hint as to where he picked up that language.

"It all sounds pretty futuristic t'me. We don't even got a phonograph, an' no electric lights."

Just oil lamps and fireplaces, and books to keep them entertained. Sometimes her daddy plays his violin, and Katie sings. Sometimes he talks her into doing needlepoint.

"What other things do they make movin' pictures for?"

"Wow... No electricity?" His eyebrows shoot up. It's hard to imagine real life without it, but here she is, flesh and blood, straight out of a time where his own modern conveniences just don't exist.

He figures out which buttons on the remote to press and starts flipping through the channels, curious as to what else he might find (and if the bar is still reading his mind).

"You can watch the news, and sports, and shows called soap operas, which my mom watches, but it ain't got nothin' to do with soap or operas, it's just sappy love stories and sh- stuff like that. Ooh, and cartoons!"

He's come upon a Bugs Bunny cartoon featuring his nemesis Yosemite Sam. The bar is obviously sticking to a theme today.

She shakes her head, too distracted by the television to look at him.

"Some say it's the Devil's work."

Her daddy doesn't, but they don't have the means to afford such extravagance, either. Besides, they do just fine the way they are. Katherine finds it all rather exciting just the same.

Her eyes widen at the cartoon.

"Oh, my. Wouldja look at that? They're so colorful. Look at the li'l one's silly mustache."

She stifles a snicker.

He slants her a sudden glance, brow knitted with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "The Devil's work? The nuns at school never said electricity was the work of the Devil."

Turning back to the cartoon, the mustached cowboy starts throwing one of his shouty hissy fits when that rascally rabbit gets the better of him.

"That's Yosemite Same, the rootin'est, tootin'est bandit in the West, but Bugs Bunny always outsmarts him with tricks an' stuff. It's pretty funny when he does."

Kate's surprised to hear this. Why, even their church in Heyser — which isn't that big of a town — gave a sermon on being cautious.

"Oh, yes. I don't think so myself, but it is kinda like witchcraft how y'can control the light like that. They say it's invitin' bad spirits into your home."

She blinks at the pint-sized hissy fit, once again muffling laughter with her hand.

"What's he doin' fighting with a rabbit? That's just silly."

He has to chuckle at that.

"Bad spirits? Oh, c'mon. Everyone knows electricity ain't got nothin' to do with witches or bad spirits. It's all about-- y'know, science."

Not that he can explain the science behind electricity, but he's aware that there's quite a lot of it involved. He paid attention in class for about half the lesson before he excused himself to go to the bathroom out of boredom.

"It's silly, but that's what's so funny about it, ain't it? Me an' my brothers an' sisters watch these cartoons every day when we get home from school."

"Well not everyone, obviously."

What a big head he's got on those shoulders of his, gracious.

But then he's talking about brothers and sisters, and now Kate is looking at him, albeit a touch wistfully.

"Every day?"

"Uh-huh, every day-- well, 'cept on weekends when we don't have school, but on Saturdays there's cartoons on almost all day long."

He turns his attention from the cartoon to Kate when he notices her looking at him.

"Do you got brothers an' sisters?"

She starts a little.

"No. My mama died four years ago."

It's just her and her daddy. She looks away, quickly blurting out her next words.

"There's lots of people on our ranch, though. They're practically like family."

"Oh."

It's an awkward but sad and sympathetic sound. He has no idea what else to say to someone who's lost a parent. He can't imagine what that would even be like.

He also looks away, picking at a crease in the wood of the bar.

"Well-- that's good that you got other folk around, I guess. You all get on okay, though, right?"

"The world doesn't stop turnin' just 'cuz someone you love dies. An' my daddy does good business."

It's the kind of strong talk that gets learned from a parent rather than what comes natural. She wonders what he means by asking, but she doesn't wonder for long. The Bar is starting to ripple with color.

She hops back, blinking at the shining wood. A napkin pops up, warning the boy to stop tickling Her.

It does sound like something a grownup would say.

But he doesn't have time to dwell on it when the bar...comes alive? He immediately pulls his hands away as if he'd just been shocked (he hasn't), and the note is enough to convince him that this thing isn't just an object that makes everything you want appear.

He looks to Kate, wide-eyed as if asking if she saw what he just saw.

"Um-- sorry?" he says to the bar.

She looks at him, expression just as surprised, confirming that she did see what he just saw.

The Bar ripples back to a shiny maple, accepting his apology by way of another napkin.

"I didn't know it could do that," she whispers.

"Me neither."

A pause, as he eyes the bar warily.

"It seems nice enough but I wouldn't wanna make it mad."

Another napkin pops up, and Tommy hesitantly reaches for it and reads it.

Why don't you two go play outside?

Just like a mother would say. And to emphasize her point, the TV shuts off.

Kate jumps.

"Y'still think electricity ain't like witchcraft? Let's get outta here."

She doesn't wait for him, but as she moves toward the back door she holds her hand out again.

She's got a great point.

He bounds after her, taking her outstretched hand, and hurrying toward the back door, they burst through into the open air. Tommy doesn't stop-- with a whoop, he hops down the porch steps and breaks into a run, headed for the lake. Still grasping Kate's hand, he glances at her with a face-splitting grin, challenging her to keep up.

His enthusiasm takes her by surprise, and she almost loses her footing on the way down the steps. She's wearing very slight heels, after all.

However, catching the look on his face has her setting her jaw in determination. She gathers her skirts in one hand without dropping her comic book, and picks up the pace.

Challenge: accepted.

"Yeeeeeehaw!"

He can't help bursting into bright laughter.

Nobody but a real cowgirl could get away with that kind of holler.

And it kinda tickles him. He probably won't be able to stop grinning for a while.

Squeezing her hand tighter, they start to race down an incline, a sudden dip in the field. Maybe Tommy's going too fast, or maybe he simply just doesn't know the terrain, or maybe his shoelace came undone, but--

--a misstep, and--

Well, the ending of that nursery rhyme about Jack and Jill that might explain what happens next.

tumble tumble tumble etc.

Luckily the grass is soft, but those green stains are gonna be hard to get out.

She thinks he's going a mite fast, but she isn't about to say so and lose face. So she runs, keeping up, even overtaking him, when—

Stupid boys.

"Oof!"

She lands in a heap underneath him, grass stains on her dress and socks, and grass burns — those horrible little rashes from the blades slicing into supple skin — already starting to bite her legs. Her daddy's going to be so disappointed.

"Are you all right, y'big oaf?"

"Ow, dammit," he grunts as he's unable to keep from landing on top of her, but once they stop rolling, he shoves himself off and breathlessly flops back on his rear end.

"Sorry. 'M okay, are y- hey, I ain't a big oaf!"

He examines his elbows, red and raw and stained green, and brushes grass and dirt from his skin.

"Mind your tongue."

It lacks the force of earlier. She's on her back staring up at the big blue sky, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. She pushes herself up on her elbows and examines her knees.

"I ain't the one who tripped, so it stands t'reason."

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