tampered | (no subject)

(no subject)

When; Sunday, December 7th, evening.
Rating; PG 13, most likely, possibly higher, but only because of the possibility of Emille's filthy language.
Characters; Emille (

bass_on_fire) and Marianne(

tresdifficile)
Summary; Marianne is a 1700's French woman on a horse and has just arrived in the City. Emille decides it'd be a fantastic idea to help out the woman that believes she's going absolutely mad.
Log;

She put her violin aside for now, and dressed in her slacks and white dress shirt, alongside her one inch cheeled boots. Emille had a vague idea where Marianne was, but she knew one thing: The girl had a horse. That was kind of a strange thing in the City. Horses just don't "happen" around here. Singing cacti? Yes. People who are actually angels, superheroes, costumed supervillains, yes, all that happens. Horses? Nnnnnnot so much.

She took a bit of a guess, and happened upon the edge of the forest. Emille thought to herself, "This probably isn't the best idea. I'm not the goddamned concierge to this place." And yet, she was compelled regardless, most likely out of sympathy for the amount of confusion this woman was no doubt in. Her eyes gazed around the place, trying to find... trying to find a damn horse.

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Marianne, for her part, was doing her best not to have a panic attack. She'd cried for a bit, after the voices in the strange device started to become exasperated with her - but what was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to think? People giving her strings of numbers and telling her that she was in another world. She didn't understand.

She hovered about the edge of the forest, only half-expecting someone to show up, not entirely convinced she's not just losing her mind. People weren't supposed to just hear voices. People weren't supposed to get lost in strange, magic places. She wondered, with no little amount of guilt, if this was God's punishment for deciding to leave her family.

When she saw the figure approaching, she tensed slightly, but relaxed when her horse huffed, annoyed, apparently far less concerned than she.

Yep. Horse. And... A girl who certainly isn't wearing modern day clothing. Emille narrowed her eyes just slightly, doubting only for a split second that this could be the right person. She gives a wave as she approaches the woman and her quadrupedal mode of transport.

"You're Marianne, right? It's me, Emille!"

She had the inkling of a suspicion that this was gonna be one hell of a complicated affair. Where does the city keep horses? And, for that matter, judging by the clothing, would Marianne even be able to comprehend anything about the communicator?

Oh, this was gonna be fuuuuuun.

She did a double-take when Emille spoke. Women.. women just didn't look like that where she's from. Not even the travelers and gypsies, or, she imagined, prostitutes (not like she'd ever seen one - well, except that one time but that was in a church and it wasn't like she was dressed for business). So after a moment of staring, brow furrowed, Marianne takes a deep breath and lets it out, deciding she's just going to have to suck this up and get on with it.

"Yes," she says. "Hello."

She clicks her tongue a bit and gets her horse to back up so that she's away from the mud and grass before dismounting artfully, smoothing out heavy blue silk and velvet with one gloved hand and holding the reigns with the other. She makes sure her hat is still on straight and gives Emille a nervous smile.

"This is... all very strange for me. I did not expect anyone to come."

That was something Emille didn't consider until she spotted Marianne's bit of staring. The girl looked like she came out of the French Revolution, while Emille? Looked a little like a guy at first glance. No matter how Emille would have decided to dress, though, it still would have been a world apart from Marianne's own "world." She approaches Marianne, keeping a bit of distance, somewhere around ten feet or so.

"Well, I couldn't in all good conscience let you just wander aimlessly around here. It ain't the safest place to be."

Emille eyed the horse briefly. She was from Chicago. She didn't see horses there. Just didn't happen. Not in New York, either.

"You pro'lly have a whole load o' questions, but might be better if we getcha a place to stay for a while before we jump inta that."

Before the French Revolution, actually. She will be an old woman very far away from France when the heads begin to roll. But her lover is a Libertine, and she's inherently non-bigoted - it's just going to take her a little bit to get over the shock in general.

Marianne pats her horse's nose and gives Emille a weak smile. "I appreciate it. I am not afraid of the woods, but..." her smile becomes a little pained. She has no idea what's here. She nods and walks closer, her horse clopping along aside her. It looks a little funny - she's very tiny to be pulling around this huge animal.

"Just a fear of the unknown, right?... 'S how it usually goes." Emille, of course, knew at least in part how Marianne was feeling right now. Again, there was that sympathy for what the woman was going through. She tried not to be intimidated by the bigass horse. She succeeded, for the most part.

"Come on. I'll take you into the city proper." There was a worry as to how the woman would deal with the scenery; this place didn't really reflect much of anything Marianne had experienced. Maybe Emille wasn't the best person for all this? Hell... She didn't even know what any of the apartments' pet policies were... Though she was fairly certain horses aren't really allowed. She'd lead Marianne along, looking back occasionally.

"Just let me know when you want some answers about this place. I'm still figurin' a lot of it out, m'self, but 'least I can provide what I know."

Marianne gave her a smile, because she was going to force herself to be all right. Becoming hysterical wouldn't help, she knew, and after having initially cried into her horse's mane about it, she was just anxious. She wondered at herself; the thing she was the most upset over was the thought that Grégoire would come all the way back to Gévaudan and find her missing. What would he think? That she abandoned him? That she had been attacked? It was painful to think about and left a weight in her chest that was almost as bad as when she had tried to push him away the first time.

"Her name is Bella," he said, about her horse. "It's a silly name, but I named her when I was young." As if she's not young, now - but nineteen is a grown woman, in the 18th century. She's nearly an old maid, but she doesn't care.

After a moment, she paused, and then extended her hand to Emille, holding the network device with a puzzled expression. "I don't know what it is," he said. "Your voices come from it. Is it enchanted?"

Emille wasn't much older, only by about two years, but she's had her own experiences with making herself into a grown woman, entering adulthood through hardships rather than the simpler-by-comparison aging process.

"Bella, 'en. At least you came here with some kind of companion. Most people aren't so lucky."

She turns her head toward Marianne, and spots the device. Oi. Technology talk. To someone who doesn't really have any notions of how modern technology works. This... Was gonna be a bit tricky. "Ehm... No. It's not enchanted. It's like... It allows people to talk to each other from far away. Everyone in this place has one, and can communicate with specific people or to everyone if they want. It's gotta be a pretty complicated machine compared to what you're used to, innit?... God." She doesn't even know what to compare the device to, to help explain the thing. No way that radios existed. She sort of stared as she walked, staring at nothing in general, trying to grasp some kind of relatable thought process.

"It's somethin' you wanna hold on to, though, either way. You can write notes for yourself, sorta like a journal, talk to others who aren't around, that sort of thing."

Marianne tried to put it together in her head - it wasn't difficult to decide that she was just going to believe everything that this other woman said, but trying to get herself to make any sense of it was a little trickier. She was happy to hear it wasn't some kind of magic; the most that she heard on that subject was the stories of waking the dead and things like that, from her brother of his travels in Africa, and they disturbed her. It was easier to believe that it was some kind of a machine. She understood what machines were, though only in the rudimentary sort of way. She could accept that it was just very very advanced, though she still did not quite understand.

She nods, not entirely convinced or comfortable with it, but accepting the explanation at face-value easily enough, and pocketing the device for now.

"How long have you been here?"

Emille knew it'd be a while before Marianne would get any sort of serious handle on the technology of this place any time soon. There was just barely a sigh of relief when the subject seemed to be dropped for now, and a new topic was brought up.

"Little over four, five months, I think. I've had enough time to sorta... get my bearings. Get used to the place." That was certainly true... She had plenty of friends, music, and enough interesting things to happen to keep her sanity intact. Hell, she even managed to quit smoking. That's a feat right there.

Months? Marianne frowned, hearing that. She sighed, and closed her eyes for a bit, swallowing her frustration. She was suddenly very tired, and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Maybe she would wake up and find this all a dream, and be back at Jeanne's cottage, strange voices and cities fading away in her memory.

"Some people have been very kind," she said, quiet. "Are there dangers, here?"

She didn't see the frown, but it was obvious when Emille did look back that Marianne was incredibly disappointed, to say the least. Again, nothing but sympathy, though the woman probably had more to go back to than Emille does.

"There're plenty of dangers, but... Most are pretty easily avoided once you learn more and more about the city. Some, though, no one can really help. There are these... Sorts of 'curses' that roll through here every few days. They're not always as bad as they sound. Make you do things you don't necessarily do, talk in ways you don't expect, relive your past, that sort of thing." Of course, Emille had no idea that the Christmas Past curse was about to come at the stroke of midnight, so that's just an eery moment of either precognition or unfortunate coincidence. "The slate's usually wiped clean after a day or so, so none of it truly lasts."

It was dizzying information, if she was to believe it. She thinks she does - why not? She's already here, isn't she? - but it's true that she'll probably just walk about in a daze until she experiences it all for herself.

She looks up at the buildings, taller than any castle she's ever seen and build so strangely. They seem cold and indifferent and she's glad she's dressed for winter, even though it's not nearly as chilly here as it was back in France.

"I wish I knew what to say. I am sure I seem very slow right now.. I appreciate you helping me."

"No need to thank me. If it weren't me, it'd be someone else," she said with a smirk as she kept on her destined path. She was still considering exactly where to take the woman. "And you're not seemin' slow. Everyone gets pretty confused when they wind up here."

Should Emille take Marianne back to her own apartment? The horse would trample everything... and the smell would probably never leave. Not the best idea. Maybe a new apartment? If it's possible, that might be the best idea. Suppose they'll figure that out when they reach Building XII, the location of Emille's own little loft.

"Many men offered," she says, and does not explain further, seeming a little affronted by that. Lord Guilford had been polite, but the others, she didn't see why they would want to startle a woman further when she was not a child. Strange men in strange lands were never acceptable - not to her, anyway. Marianne had lived in the country her entire life, and knew better. Or so she thought - culture shock withstanding.

"Does everyone live in those buildings?" She gives them a look of disapproval. They don't look comfortable at all, and the flat sides and dreary windows make her think of prisons.

Emille couldn't exactly peg what kind of woman Marianne was from a comment like that. No reasoning? Nothing? Of course, Emille wouldn't really quite get it either way; again, two different world here, it seemed. Emille's building wasn't too far now; only a few minutes at least.

"Yeah. Ya really do get used to 'em. Accommodations're nice and comfortable, and they letcha swap out the furniture for whatever you want." She could pick up on the disapproving tone from Marianne, so Emille continued. "They're not anywhere near as bad as 'ey look. You yourself might need to warm up to 'em a little, but they're still good arrangements."

Marianne made a thoughtful noise and kept walking, the only sound for a while her horse's hoofbeats, loud and sharp against the pavement. She paid close attention, wondering if soon she'd have to move her somewhere else - it looked slippery.

"Perhaps I should stay on the ground floor," she said eventually, tone resigned, "So that I can tie Bella up outside a window."

[ooc: ajshgfjhsg my tenses are all over the place tonight /FAILS]

"Might be a possibility. Or ask that a stable be built. Considering the circumstances, I don't think that'd be a problem or anything."

As they walked, more and more thoughts struck Emille. "You want your own place, or you rather want company for your first night here? I got food I'm more 'n willin' to share." She may not exactly be willing to give the horse a place to sleep, but at least she's on the first floor...

"There must be some kind of housing," she mused. "So many different people. I heard birds in the forest. Surely there is accomodations." People without horses was a very strange idea to her. How did they get around?

Marianne was in the process of looking around for some place to tie Bella up outside the building lobby when Emille asked, so she paused, considering it. It might be nice to have someone around to get adjusted. And Bella would probably be all right. She stroked her horse's ears.

"That would be very nice. Thank you."

"There're regular houses, too. Just have to pay to have 'em built. Gotta buy a bit of land for yourself first." She shrugged, thinking nothing much of her comment in general.

"It's settled, then. I got a bed you can use, and... Sure there's somethin' to reign Bella to." She would have outright said "tie Bella's reigns to the radiator," but... Marianne probably doesn't know what a radiator is, either. At least, not in a modern sense. "We'll get ya fixed up with your own place tomorrow, or whenever you'd like."

They'd reach the building, and, briefly, holds up her hand to signify they hold their positions. "Lemme get in here, open the window for ya, get Bella tied up." Through the door she goes, leaving it open for Marianne, and, not long after, the window slides open.

Marianne waits, and instead of becoming anxious, simply adjust her coat front, refusing to be agitated at her situation. When Emille opens the window, she leads Bella over and makes sure she's tied up in easy view, before patting the horse's head a bit and loosening her saddle's girth to make her more comfortable waiting outside. She makes a mental note to find a blanket to throw over her before she goes to sleep.

Once inside the apartment, Marianne removes her hat, and nervously fixes her hair with one gloved hand, looking around the place with quiet curiosity.

The apartment itself was fairly presentable, if a bit small; a single bed in the center-- a foldout couch, to be precise--, an end table on the far side of the bed near the window, a television and DVD player in front of the bed with a pathway to walk comfortably, and a small kitchenette to the right of the door. There was an electronic bass and amp against the far wall, alongside a case on the bed containing a violin and bow. A closet was just past the kitchen, between the kitchen and the bed, with a bathroom on the opposite side. A cozy place, perfect for one or two people to live comfortably on not too much.

"Bit of a mess. I never expect company." Part of her wished she didn't have to explain each technological device... But thankful the instruments wouldn't be hard to describe at all. Hell, Marianne's no doubt seen at least one violin in her life. Maybe? "For tonight, just take the bed. I've got a sleeping bag, more than comfortable enough."

[ooc: D: gaw, loads and loads of stuff to do. FREE TIME NOW]

Marianne refrains from asking after everything. She thinks that she'll only give herself and her host a headache, if she does, and she still genuinely hopes that this will be but a dream she will wake up from.

Instead she gingerly sits down, hands folded in her lap, quiet for a moment.

"This must be an inconvenience for you," she says eventually. "Thank you. I will make accommodations for myself in the morning." Marianne smiles a little. "Is your home much like this place?"

"Don't worry so much. I help 'cuz I want to. That's it." It was true; if she wanted anything up front, she would have asked for it. Every now and then, though, she manages to be surprisingly selfless.

"I... Don't really have much of a home back where I'm from. I traveled a lot. Made ends meet by playing music, earning money that way. This is the first stable place I've had for a few years, I guess."

Part of her thoughts lingered back to New York and Chicago, missing her old family and friends. Another part of her shut that thought process down almost as immediately as it began.

Emille reminds Marianne of the gypsies who danced in the streets and camped throughout the villages. She had never been sure what to make of them, until her brother said they were filthy and degenerate. She'd decided she liked them, after that, though she was still never permitted to speak to them, outside the few times she'd played with other little children passing through the province. Perhaps it was just to be contrary, but she could never understand hating a whole people.

"I am glad some people like it here. Perhaps it's not too terrible."

She takes off her gloves, straightening them idly. "I lived my whole life in Gévaudan. The day I came here, I had decided to leave. Though.. this is not entirely what I had intended."

Emille wouldn't be quite sure of how to take being compared to gypsies or anything, but all things considered, it was a pretty apt comparison. Traveling musician, making her home wherever she lay -- typically in someone else's hotel--, preferring drinks and regaling others with stories and music... Again, not that far off.

"It's not bad at all. It just takes some getting used to." With a shrug, she walks over to the bed and grabs her violin case, closing it up and setting it aside, next to her electric bass. "It's a new experience for ya, then. Something to try out. A new way of livin'. Worst that happens?... You just end up don't liking it after all's said and done. And that's that."

"I'm sure that there could be worse," she says, though it sounds like she may be laughing a bit. "Though it's best not to dwell on such things, no?"

At least Marianne has relaxed. Emille is very nice, and not grudging about their differences, and she finds herself at ease more and more around the other woman. Maybe she'll be able to sleep. Maybe things will be all right.

[ooc: Soooorry for taking so long, lj is loading really slow for me and I'm being unfortunately braindead :| if you want to wrap it up here I'm cool!]

"I'd say so. The weather's decent, there're good people here... No need for dwelling on the negatives too much."

Emille was glad Marianne finally managed to calm down... And glad for herself that she was able to deal with this situation pretty well. There was a consideration of making this a somewhat normal thing... That idea stricken down quite soon after when she realizes she needs to take it all one step at a time.

[ooc: It's cool! I think now would be a good point to wrap up anyway. :D]

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