wickedchouette | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

[Alfie greets and makes nice with newcomers when he comes across them, but he doesn't go out of his way to seek them out. He's not interested in being part of any de facto welcome wagon, especially not now that more and more people are filtering their way in, either to use the Meadous as a waypoint or to settle down and stay; that can be a job for people like Meulin and Harley. He does, however, notice new houses as he passes them by, and today there's one on his regular walking route. He takes note of the name on the mailbox - Beauregard, good lord - and is all set to continue ambling onwards when a flash of movement catches his eye. Is that--

-- yes. That absolutely is his cat, leaping up onto the windowsill and slipping in through the open window.

With a sigh, he turns and heads towards the door instead, giving it a firm knock.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Oh, hello kitty.

It has been... a day. It has been a whole day and she's only just barely handling this with any sort of grace. She's in the middle of bandaging her knuckles when the cat mwrowls in her direction and trots over to her, licking her arm, and her breath catches in her throat. It's just a cat. It's just a cat, and it's not Frumpkin.

The knock on the door gets her attention. She answers a few moments later, the cat winding through her legs.

She looks tired - in good shape otherwise, though. She's wearing casual clothes and a blue beanie. ]

... This your cat?

This is my cat.

[He confirms. Lady, unrepentant, blinks up at Alfie, then rubs her cheek against Beau's knee.]

I've come to collect her, if she's bothering you. She'll try to play with those bandages of yours, if she's given half the chance.

[ She glances down at Lady. ]

Not like I haven't dealt with cats before. It's fine. She's not bothering me, but you can have her back.

You one of the locals?

I wasn't born here.

[Just in case that was in doubt. New people have assumed stranger things.]

But I do live here, yes, just down the way. Royce, Gwen, and Mercy - they're mine.

[It's a fuller house than he's had in a while, and he's still getting used to it, but there's no part of it that's not a blessing. And quietly, he hopes for more someday, if only as visitors. Emily, Kesara, Fiona, Quark, Rhys and Angel, and several others are still in his thoughts.]

[ she leans against the door frame, looking him over. ]

Yeah, I figured that. No, this is just one more fucking stop before I get to finally go home. Figures.

Gwen is the lady that brought food by earlier. She your lady?

She's her own lady.

[Not that he doesn't know what she means.]

She's Royce's wife. And I'm Alfie Solomons, and you are...?

[He's assuming she's not Beauregard; that's strictly a male name, in his experience.]

Right on.

[ her own lady. beau likes that. she got that impression when gwen visited - they hadn't talked much about her, though. ]

Beau. [ she says, not offering a hand. ] I got here this morning, which I'm sure you already know.

Mm.

[He glances down at her bandaged hand.]

And did you bring the injuries with you, or were they a gift of welcome from somebody?

[ sniff. ]

Nah, nobody did those. I got pissed and punched a tree and some fucker in a hood snapped at me. Didn't hurt him, though. He got away.

That would have been Royce, yes. Watch yourself around him; he does carry knives.

[Alfie holds a hand out to Lady, wiggling his fingers, but she's too busy doing her best to claim Beau as her own to listen to him.]

If you've also met the little girl with the pet raccoon, then you've got all four of us.

Haven't met her yet, no. But she sounds great. Anybody that can tame a fucking raccoon has to be some sort of wizard.

[ Lady is really insistent on climbing up Beau, which makes her wince, but she doesn't mind that much. ]

... D'you wanna come in or. [ she says, vaguely awkward. ]

Yeah, sure, all right.

[He's pretty sure she's offering more out of politeness than because she actually wants company - but fuck it, she's interesting, and he's completely okay with taking advantage of her reluctant hospitality.]

Is Lady also invited?

[He gestures to the cat, making it clearer who he means.]

[ She doesn't hate the company. She also knows she herself isn't exactly good company at the moment, but it's not like she's going to pretend for this random guy. He can deal, she thinks. ]

I think Lady already decided where she's invited. [ Beau says, vaguely amused. But she heads back into the house, and flops down on the couch. Picks a little at her bandages. ]

How long have you been here for? [ Pause. ] Please tell me that Gwen lady wasn't lying to me and you actually don't do trials here.

[He shuffles after her, choosing a chair, if there is one available.]

Define "trial" for me.

[ there's a few! there's space for seven people to sit down in this living room, specifically. ]

There's a lockdown on Thursday nights at eleven. Someone gets murdered. Saturday we spend the whole fucking day trying to figure out who killed the people who got murdered. [ ... god, she wants alcohol. ] Sometimes there's one body. Sometimes there's multiple.

[He snorts, though he doesn't look shocked or horrified by the description.]

Fuck's sake-- no, no; nothing like that. Three years I've been here, and no.

[ she lets out a slow sigh, kneading at her eyes with the heels of her palms. ]

Cool, great, because I've been doing that every week for about three months and I'm pretty fucking sick of it. [ a bit angrily: ] I was supposed to go home this time.

Edited 2020-08-07 04:28 (UTC)

Well, you're in luck.

[He says, leaning forward a little, hands clasped together.]

This is the best place for that. Have you spoken to the young god in charge? Do they still give out letters on arrival?

Uh - yeah. I saw the letter, I haven't talked to them.

[ almost petulantly: ] I'm sick of hosts. This is the fucking third time, I'm so done.

[Alfie raises an eyebrow.]

Hosts?

Yeah, like - fuck, uh. Not the people in charge, but the people who had to run the trials for us. It was the sisters in the first one, and the directors in the second.

They weren't the ones who put us there, though.

And who were the ones who put you there?

The first one was a fucking sentient murder house. The second was sentient misery.

Sentient misery. Now, that's a new one. Not a god of misery?

No, like - it was an egg, and it brought us from the ends of our first fucking... murder game. [ she spits the term out. ] And it needed misery to hatch, so it made us do the murder thing again.

[ she glances away. ] But it was misery. Some creature made of it.