milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

[Immediately before.]

The front door is flung as if by a storm wind, and the thunderous crash of gunfire can be clearly heard from the other side.

A woman falls backward into the room, landing on the floor with a sickening thud. She lies still where she has fallen, a delicate blonde figure in a blue dress and black shoes, hands clenched tightly around a handwoven belt of dark blue, stained darker now by the blood that flows freely from the bullet wounds in her stomach, a wistful smile on her pale, dead face.

But this is Milliways, and after a few moments, Gabrielle Deschain begins to stir.

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Are you alright?

*he has a worried look on his face*

"I... I don't know." She struggles to sit up, blinking in shock, one hand pressing against her stomach as she gasps at the fading pain.

Where did you come from?

*he looks at her curiously*

"I was just in my room..."

The blood flowing between her fingers has slowed, now, and is near stopping.

"What-- what happened?"

I don't exactly know. I saw the door fly open and heard a gunshot....and here you are. Do you know where you are?

*he tries to calm her down and comfort her*

"I don't-- I don't know anything -- and I don't know you--"

She sits up further, pulling away from him.

I'm sorry. I'm Gamble and I live here. This is Milliways, the bar at the End of the Universe. Welcome...at least your not dead...completely...yet.

"Dead... what... you're mad."

Gabrielle looks at him in clear alarm and struggles to stand, to move further away.

Sorry. Either ways you're here. I'm sorry if I bothered you in any way. I was just trying to help.

*he face fills with disappointment*

She's still in too much shock from her own death to be properly attentive to another's emotion, but the manners of the court of Gilead drive her to say,

"Your pardon, sai; I am not at my best. Perhaps you should leave me be."

As you wish. Feel Better.

*he walks off*

And as he does, another young man hurries to her side (http://www.livejournal.com/community/milliways_bar/5094141.html?thread=209172477#t209172477), and Gabrielle Deschain turns to face him.

The movement and the gunfire catch Alain's attention, and his head whips around.

And then all the blood drains from his face, and he puts a hand to the table to steady himself even though he is sitting down. For a moment, he can't breathe.

Cuthbert sits beside him, with the same shocked expression. For a moment or two, he's utterly frozen.

And then he's moving, hurrying to her side, still wide-eyed and pale. The expression makes him look curiously young.

She flinches away as he reaches her side, not recognizing him at first in her own shock-- but a second look startles a breathless response from her.

"Cuthbert Allgood? But-- you've changed--"

Cuthbert goes down on one knee beside her, one hand reaching out and then pulling back, as if he's afraid to touch her.

Gabrielle Deschain. Daughtert of Candor, wife of Steven, mother of Roland.

Gabrielle-of-the-Waters, who died at the hands of her son.

He forces himself to breath, and to answer her.

"Aye, lady. Are--are you--"

Are you hurt?, he wants to ask, but the words catch and die in his throat.

He almost follows Cuthbert, and then stops himself. It's not out of hesitance to face her -- well, mostly not. There's a little of that.

But Roland is upstairs, and must be told. Alain can think of almost nothing he wants less than to bear this news to Roland, but it must be from a ka-mate, and quickly. And Cuthbert will see to Gabrielle.

Silent and ashen, he slips away, upstairs (http://www.livejournal.com/users/_lastgunslinger/14759.html).

"What-- what madness is this?"

She looks down at the belt in her hands, stained with her own blood, the same blood that is clearly visible on her dress as well.

As he glances down at the blood, Cuthbert goes even paler, which should by all rights be impossible.

That, and the belt in his hands, are all he needs to confirm when and where she's just arrived from.

He squeezes her eyes for a moment, then tries again. Somehow, his voice comes out steady this time.

"Are you hurt, lady?"

"I-- there's so much blood, but I don't feel pain."

The shock is beginning to fade, now, as the wounds which killed her close over and the blood flow stops-- enough so that Gabrielle looks up at him suddenly.

"Roland."

Cuthbert flinches as though struck.

He's frozen again, unable to move or even speak. And even if he could get his mouth to work, what could he possibly say to he?

"Where--"

She looks around wildly, as if expecting to see her fourteen-year-old son standing nearby, and the strangeness of her environment sinks in.

"-- this is not my chamber."

"No--"

Whatever was the most difficult explanation of Milliways he's ever had to give a moment ago has just been replaced.

"This--this is a place called Milliways, lady. It's...not exactly in Gilead."

He can't keep his eyes from the blood on her hands, and he lays one hand on her shoulder briefly, rising.

Gently, "Stay here a moment."

He goes to the bar quickly, returning only a moment later with a bowl of water and a clean towel.

She lays the belt across her lap and takes the towel from him with a soft word of thanks as she dips it in the water and cleans her hands of their stain-- and then she attempts to blot some of the blood from the woven belt, as well.

The water in the bowl is a faint shade of pink when she is finished, and she folds the towel neatly and sets it aside.

It is then that Gabrielle realizes for the first time that she is still on the floor where she had fallen.

"Help me up, Cuthbert. Please. I shouldn't be here-- not like this."

I shouldn't be here

For the third time--and likely it won't be the last--Cuthbert's stomach drops to the soles of his boots.

She hasn't realized yet...he's going to have to tell her. He can't tell her. Who's going to tell her if he doesn't?

Desperately, he pushes that away, if only for the moment. Gabrielle has one thing right enough--she is a lady of Gilead and the wife of a gunslinger, and she shouldn't be fallen on the floor like this.

Wordlessly, he stands and reaches down his hands to her.