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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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."

"Sorry," he mumbles.

So maybe he is a bit clumsy like a colt that hasn't mastered the use of its gangly limbs yet. A sudden prepubescent growth spurt will do that to ya.

Ignoring his scrapes and bumps, he gets up and walks off a few yards to where Kate dropped the comic book and picks it up. Some pages are bent and there's a small tear in the cover. He bites his lip. He might have to pay for this out of his allowance.

Returning to Kate, he sees that her knees are looking a lot like his elbows. He drops down onto the grass and sits Indian style, the comic book in his lap.

"You alright?"

Her brows knit together when she sees the comic book. Judging by the way she's worrying at her bottom lip, she's thinking something similar to what he is.

"I've taken worse spills before. Jus' a li'l scuffed up is all."

But she winces when she sits up straight, carefully arranging her sullied skirts so she can still see her knees but feel a little more decent. She sniffles softly.

"I think it's only fair t'say I won our race."

"Oh yeah? Well--"

He did trip.

In fact now he can recall the exact moment his feet went out from under him.

"Mmkayfine."

A beat.

"But we'll hafta have a rematch some time. Where there ain't no hills."

"Fine."

Her eyes, though glassy, are all defiance and hellfire. She'll win that challenge, too.

She rubs the corner of her eye, looking at the comic book in his lap.

"Perhaps — we could rest a spell an' read together?"

Sit with a girl? To read a comic book?

Now that's a thing he's never done before. But maybe it doesn't count because she's not from his time. Maybe cooties don't exist.

(They do.)

"Um-- sure."

He gives her the comic book and scoots over to her, and they sit side-by-side, facing the lake.

She'd never admit to how relieved she is. Her ankle is throbbing and her knees are sore and itchy, she bumped her elbow and it's doing that funny thing, and she needs to catch her breath.

But she would get up and run in an instant if he asked her to. A Barlow never stays down.

However, he isn't asking her to. So she smiles as she opens the comic to the first page, keeping a little distance between them while holding it to his side. She'll periodically remark on something she likes, or listen to him enthuse about something, chattering and giggling over the story.

It's a much needed respite.

And he would never admit that his elbows are beginning to really smart and he's probably going to find a knot on his knee in the morning. But it doesn't matter, because a Gavin can take his bumps and bruises.

As they grow more comfortable in each other's company, finding the same things funny or interesting or exciting, Tommy leans in closer as his enthusiasm grows, their shoulders brushing lightly against one another. Sometimes he answers her questions about the advertisements for model cars and airplanes, or the mail orders for creatures called sea monkeys. It's kind of fun explaining stuff. She makes him think and see everyday things-- everyday for him, at least-- in different ways.

Plus, she keeps him focused. For once he doesn't feel as if a million things need his attention. He isn't bored or anxious to get to the next topic, and is perfectly content to sit there.

(With a girl. His cousins and pals at school would never let this go if they ever found out.)

(Whatever, he doesn't care. She's a cowgirl.)

"I wonder if there's a horse like Silver in the stables."

Edited 2013-10-22 05:08 (UTC)

Katherine doesn't know much — she's only twelve, after all — but she knows one thing for absolute certain.

She desperately needs pet sea monkeys.

"I bet there is!"

There's rarely a moment she isn't acutely aware of how close she is to a boy, but it isn't always uncomfortable. He's an honest to goodness New York City boy, and he knows so many interesting things about the future. So what if his arm occasionally brushes hers, or their knees sometimes touch?

"They got all sorts of horses in the stables here, I already checked. C'mon, I'll show you."

His eyes widen a little. During that visit to the petting zoo, he'd been wary of the ponies despite his excitement of seeing real live ones for the first time, even though they were tethered and docile to the point of drowsiness. His little sister rode one (well, sat on one while a staff member led it around in a circle with a rope), but he insisted that he'd rather just watch.

He didn't expect he'd ever get close to anything resembling horses again after that.

Shaking off the residual skittishness (it was a long time ago when he was little, okay?), he grins and nods.

"'Kay!"

He gets to his feet, rubbing his knee when it reminds him that he'd bumped it, and offers Kate a hand to help her up.

She's so excited she doesn't even think about taking his hand again, or the burn of raw skin when she flexes her joints.

She just hopes she can get the stains out of her dress.

"This way!"

She skips off, setting a quick pace back up the embankment toward the stables. It's a huge building, but she already feels like she knows it like the back of her hand.

Tommy doesn't skip.

He lopes.

And somehow he feels as if he's been along this path before. That sense of déjà vu again, that all of this should be familiar to him already, which is odd, because he's totally a city boy.

In any case, it's not often that he just gets to run through an open, nearly endless field.

Kate, though, looks as if she belongs out here.

She's fearless with the stock, too. Even the unusual ones. She strolls right on up to random stalls as they walk, rubbing the nose of any curious beast that pokes its head out.

"Isn't this marvelous? My daddy has a wonderful barn, don't mistake me, but this is jus' — somethin' else!"

She turns a circle, looking from beam to bow, and continues down the aisle.

Tommy is less adventurous when it comes to petting the animals, preferring to keep his hands jammed down his jeans pockets as he walks a couple of steps behind Kate. He likes animals just fine, but the most experience he has with them are with the family dogs.

"It's huge," he marvels, following her gaze as she takes it all in.

"So, is your dad a cowboy?"

"Oh, no. He don't work with cattle."

It'll be some time before 'cowboy' takes on its more fanciful definition, and a few years yet before Kate's used to hearing it that way.

"He breeds horses, breaks 'em, too. He's got a fine eye for it. An' we've got pigs and goats to sell, some chickens, and a few crops. He grew up in Georgia, after spendin' his boyhood in New York, like you. But he was born in England."

"Oh," he muses thoughtfully. Recalling some characters from those old Westerns, Kate's father sounds more like a rancher type, although in Tommy's mind, anybody who rides a horse is a cowboy. (Being from Texas is optional, but ideal.)

"Huh. That's cool. Are you gonna be a-- well, are you gonna do what your dad does when you grow up?"

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