(no subject)

[dont_feel_it]

There's been a break from the weird stuff.




There often is. Even with the Troubles rising again, sneaking from the shadows and striking where they're least expected, they don't stop normal, every day life and the normal, every day problems that come with it. Bar fights and treed cats, elderly folks forgetting where they'd put the barbecue grill last fall and reporting it as stolen; parking tickets, beach permits. Everything needed to keep Haven running smoothly, cheerfully. Just another friendly little town on the coast of Maine. Stop by. Have some pancakes.

It grates.

He takes to wearing his sleeves rolled down after the third time he caught himself staring at the burn on his arm. Eleanor patched it up, taped on a clean gauze pad, and scolded him for being careless, but the bandage fell off in the shower and though he'd conscientiously replaced it, he's sick of looking at it. Remembering. How it didn't feel. How it did. Pressure in his chest, watching the flame lick at his skin like he'd been watching it on TV.

So he buttons his sleeves at the wrist, and ignores it. It's not like there isn't plenty to keep him busy. Parker still doesn't know the ropes in town, and she's not likely to for a while yet. Haven folk are glad enough to take a tourist's money, but let them stick around and they soon find the layer of steel under the welcoming sand of the town. She's been running into one closed door after another, and getting frustrated, and he wonders if maybe she doesn't toy with that old Herald photo just about as often as he runs his fingers over the shape of the bandage that sits under his shirt sleeve.

Nothing much happened today, though. A few calls, some paperwork, going over the filing system with Parker and finalizing the paperwork necessary even for an on-loan federal agent, and now it's quitting time, meaning he's headed out, walking with long, measured strides that he's got to pace against Parker's shorter ones, reaching to open the door out to the street as he's glancing over towards her.

"Need a lift?"

He wouldn't mind, and the Bronco's right there.

Or, would be, had the stairs and street not vanished, to be replaced by what looks like a bustling bar.

Nathan's eyebrows climb slowly up his forehead, the only outward sign that he's looking at anything out of the ordinary at all, but all he says is: "Maybe not."

Comments

[27yrsandwelldoitallagain]

It's a little bit of everything.

Undeniably beautiful, but something about it itches at the edges.

It's like a child's drawing. Everything seamless put together, but things you wouldn't think could be outside a drawing. Everything rolling into and out of each other piece. Rolling fields, sweeping mountains, a flush forest, buildings and paths, built fields and docks, the largest lake and dots of boats. The smell of grass and flowers, of air that smells salty with just faint wet of ozone, like the edges after a storm off the bay.

Beautiful, and just a little surreal, and just enough that it feels, not wrong, but still foreign.

Which makes her glance at Nathan's words careful. As much as it looks like home to him, something about it doesn't to her, too.

[ikissdhimbck]

It's always curious bringing new folk out here. Kate's grown so used to Milliways that it's a second home to her now. Being here with people who've never seen it before reminds her of how surreal it really is.

"I s'pose so. Planet, moon, 'space rock' — I don't really know. I jus' know it ain't Earth. No one's ever wandered past the bar's property; far as I know, y'can't. In here's the only place we're protected from what's out there."

[dont_feel_it]

He's looking across the way towards a stretch of what has to be lake but smells like salt water, making a thoughtful hn noise at Kate's explanation.

The whole thing is piecemeal. Like someone decided to build a county-sized piece of land a la carte, stapling together parts of the British Isles and New England and something that looks maybe like the Gulf of Mexico, down where the tang of salt is thickening the air.

"This was all just...here?"

A stable, a bar? A lake, with a floating dock? And with so many universes and times to choose from, what are the odds it would all be immediately recognizable to a native of twenty-first century Maine?

[27yrsandwelldoitallagain]

At least she can rely on Nathan to not glom on to it incredibly fast. To feel around the edges, studying everything in front of them, while Audrey is looking around and back. At the one singular large establishment here. None of the other places beginning to compare to the one behind them, that supposedly brought them through time and space.

Time and space that looks a whole lot like mis-matched, pushed together, Earth. Enough to be familiar, enough to be off-putting because it's not right. But, also. For as much as this is 'the end of time and space,' she's pretty sure she expected a lot more than something she could see basically out her hotel window in Haven.

There's oddness, but there's nothing distinctly alien about it all. Or the people. Even the language. It's all, like Nathan was hedging toward, and Audrey didn't mind just shoving right out the barn doors. "There's nothing a little too convenient about that to you?"

[ikissdhimbck]

Kate deliberates on the path that forks just ahead of them, one lane winding toward the forge, and the other toward the lake. Might as well take them on the scenic route.

She glances at Audrey, flicking a quick look to Nathan before returning with a smile.

"Sure it does. It feels all kinds of convenient, like somebody here planned it this way. An' maybe somebody did. I've been comin' here five years this July, an' apart from seein' the baseball diamond go up, it was all here when I arrived. I guess this part of the bar, the outdoors, was made by somebody with magic. Modeled off his own home. That's what I was told once, anyhow. I've never met anybody claimin' t'have done it, so I can only imagine their door is long gone. Or maybe this is all the Landlord's doin', an' that story's a myth."

She pockets her hands in her duster, looking out over the water as she moseys along. It's become its own place, but occasionally it still reminds her of Green Lake.

"I think most folk who come here are comfortable, an' that's the point of it. Why go someplace that doesn't have what you're lookin' for? So y'end up with a li'l of everythin'."

[dont_feel_it]

There's just the slightest hitch at one corner of Nathan's mouth, in response to that smile -- there, and gone again, like the breeze that kicks up and ruffles his hair, tugs at Parker's and at the hem of Miss Kate Barlow's duster.

Barlow. It's a familiar enough name. There have been Barlows in Haven, and up and down the New England coast for years. He doubts she's any relation, but the name alone would be enough for Dave, or Vince. Not to trust her, but maybe to listen to her.

"I thought we didn't have a choice of where to go."

Maybe that door would have kept opening onto the bar. Maybe they had to go through it. He didn't choose a multi-versal tourist attraction as a destination when he offered to give Parker a ride. It seems flashy.

In comparison.

[27yrsandwelldoitallagain]

Audrey's pretty certain of that, too. Since Kate hadn't been mentioning there were options.

She's listening to the two talk, well enough, but she's watching the lake rise on their position as the path heads for it, in a gentle curve that looks more like it'll end up running an edge rather than hitting it flat on. Listening, but looking at it all. It makes her think oddly enough both of, and nothing at all of, the cliffs in Haven that seem to edge everything away from the sleepy little town were nothing was simple.

Made by magic, but might just be a myth, too, huh? It's about as easy to consider real as staring at it will somehow prove it. Like having a guide who actually doesn't seem to know any more of the actual answers to the pertinent questions after being there years actually helps the bottom line either.

[ikissdhimbck]

"Depends on who y'are."

She pauses, wondering if she should bring up how the dead can come here as an alternative to an afterlife; how sometimes the Bar shows up right when you're most desperate for it; how sometimes it doesn't.

"Some folk always come here the same way. They got a fixed door, so t'say. Other folk, like me, have doors pop up all over the place at random. Some folk come here, an' they don't ever leave. S'different for everybody, but it ain't a prison. However things come about for you, y'always have some choice in the matter. Y'don't wanna walk in, then don't."

She turns, walking a few paces backwards so she can look at Nathan and Audrey face-to-face.

"Chances are, you're gonna want to. She grows on you."

[dont_feel_it]

He nods, narrowing his eyes against the weak sunshine. "Don't suppose there's any particular pattern."

Who gets continual doors. Who has them appear out of the blue, like the one at the station. He glances at Parker, wondering about the possibility of walking a suspect into the station, only to wind up here, instead.

And if his Trouble still works here, so would theirs. He's willing to bet even a place this bizarre doesn't want to deal with someone who can control the weather based on her mood, or who's dreams become reality. "What are the chances someone from here could follow one of us back without us knowing it?"

Spillover in either direction is a no-go. He won't let anything else into Haven, no matter how friendly the first person they met here was. One person isn't a whole...whatever this is. Planet. Undefined mass of space.

She said sometimes the door closed, and wouldn't open again. He wonders how that works with it not being a prison.

[27yrsandwelldoitallagain]

Audrey isn't sure if she wants to stick around and check it out, or go test that whole, it goes away and comes back. Sometimes in the same place, and sometimes in other places. Hands in the pocket of her jacket as she catching Nathan's eyes, because he moved to look at her, which most of the time gets her attention. Even when she's still paying attention. Still working out that whole thing.

Because it would be pretty inconvenient for it to stay permanently attached to the doors of the station. Her hotel might not be much of a home, but it's hers, it has her stuff, it's got a good enough shower and she doesn't want to be stuck with only this place and the station. She's already stuck in Haven for better or worse, especially now that she might have found her mother.

Nathan's actually not too far off one her own growing questions, which she might as well toss out. A press out of her shoulders, and tuck of her head, even as she looks around them at the idyllic, but still foreign, landscape and that building behind them, "What all do you have to watch out for here?"

[ikissdhimbck]

Funny, they've already got folk here who can control the weather and affect your dreams. She doesn't go about mentioning that, of course. Everything will work itself out in due course. Instead, she focuses on their questions in the most pressing order.

"No, nothin' can go through your door unless y'escort it out. I think of it as kinda like a special key built into your touch; someone else opens the door, it opens t'their world. You open it, it opens t'yours. So folk can't wander in an' out of your world, unless that happens t'be where they already come from. Where did y'say y'were from again?"

Kate doesn't know everybody, but she knows a fair few. If anybody else from their town comes here, she might know.

"Ah, as for there bein' a pattern — no, I don't think so. The door always changes for me 'cuz I'm never in one place very long; maybe someone more stable gets a stable door, but I couldn't say for sure. The Miss has this uncanny way of knowin' what works best for everybody. Ah, but I do know that if y'bring somethin' back with you, say a napkin or a coaster, it makes it easier t'find your way back here.

"Everybody's subject t'the same rules, but there are animals in the forests here. Far as things t'watch out for go, we've got these nasty li'l critters most folk call demon bunnies; they got red eyes, an' belch fire. I know, but I'm serious. They don't often wander outta the woods, so as long as you're not trompin' through after dusk they mostly leave you alone. Everythin' else is pretty harmless. Birds, squirrels, the squid in the lake."

[dont_feel_it]

She puts a lot of faith in an inanimate object's ability to judge what's best for patrons too diverse to really comprehend, but he keeps his opinion to himself, following along with a measured, ground-covering stride. And he's pretty sure they didn't say where they were from at all, but that's not anywhere in his tone or face, either, when he replies. "Maine. Town called Haven."

A moment's consideration, and he adds: "2009."

There's a longer pause, as he mulls over her last comment, face scrunching thoughtfully.

Fresh-water squid. In a lake that smells both like a lake and like a sun-warm sea. Trimmed by impossible woods, hosting demon...bunnies.










"Good to know."

[27yrsandwelldoitallagain]

Time travel. Magic. End of the universe. Demon bunnies, and a squid. Even when it's weird, and it is weird, really weird, it's more weird to Audrey that Kate doesn't mention people at all being a problem. Coming from all times and places, having a security force, but she doesn't list anything in the direction Audrey had meant it.

She has a hard time trying to picture this place as always civil. Not with the basics.

Not with the fact Kate's readily admitted most everything else is potentially hearsay and myth.

There's that pause of Nathan's, and even shorter words, which Audrey has gotten to know pretty well. She's pretty sure they could probably take it from here. Building, grounds. The door she'd like to check again. Comments she wouldn't make with a local anymore here than in Haven.

"If that's all," She smiled a little more pastedly, politely cheerful, as though to make up for the very little Nathan said or did sometimes. Another thing she was getting used to. "Do we just wander around and take it in now?"

[ikissdhimbck]

She puts some thought into it, but eventually she shakes her head slowly.

"Doesn't sound familiar. Haven, that is. Y'might be the first here."

Hard to say. However, as with everything else they've discussed so far, Kate leans heavily toward the comfortable, the easy to digest. Not wanting to cause a panic or a fear keeps her from mentioning the occasional dramas of the bar — which, to be fair, can be more frequent than occasional.

They can have one day where it's just 'weird', and not necessarily dangerous. Even if it doesn't engender a lot of trust just yet. Audrey's smile might be pasted, but Kate's is sincere enough.

"That is what we're doin'. My first tour guide took me 'round the stables, the libraries, the inlet jus' down thataways. There's a lot t'see, an' it may take you a while. But, well — y'have all the time in the universe."

[dont_feel_it]

He nods, and if he doesn't exactly smile in response, there's something softer about his expression as he meets her gaze, before lifting his eyes to run along the far shore of the lake, listening while he tracks slowly back towards their guide.

"Anything in particular you'd suggest starting with?"

The lazy way his Maine accent drops the ends of his words and the beginnings of his sentences almost mirrors her own Texas drawl when he speaks, though his might offer an impression of economy, near-cheapness, of words, rather than something more laid-back and easy-going.

[27yrsandwelldoitallagain]

"We'd be glad for any advice, or favorites," she adds, the second sort of amending itself like habit. After all the town folk of Haven, and how you'd get pearls from oysters that were cemented shut sooner. "But we could probably take a stab at the rest of it ourselves." She turns this one toward Nathan, flat, wide smile. "Don't you think?"

New places, that she doesn't belong and got dropped into, are old hat enough. Awkward, ill-fitting sort of feeling, like you're somewhere where your jacket is too big and your shoes are too small, simply because you don't blend. Because you never belonged here. Stand out like a sore thumb, because your family hasn't lived here for fifty or sixty years. Not that she's talking about any place specific.

Not that it bothers her in the slightest. But she'd rather not feel like she was holding her tongue the whole time. Would rather feel free to call a spade, a spade on this place and be able to talk to her partner. Wants a moment to just stare at it and frown without feeling rude and like it's going to cost her the next two months worth of everything else she'll want to know by that time.

[ikissdhimbck]

The corner of her mouth advances into a brighter, more crooked smile. She can read body language easy enough, even without the words right out there in the open, and hell, Audrey just about read Kate's mind.

She turns to Nathan, giving his request due respect, and thinks rather seriously on her answer.

"The inlet's one'a my favorite places. Warm, quiet — private. An' lovely t'look at. I'd start there, stop by the stables on your way back if y'fancy animalkind, an' then investigate more inside. Of course, once you've had your fill, y'should let me buy you both a coffee 'fore you head back home."

Seems important, sending them off someplace more private, and even more important saying so. They've got a funny body language; curious, new-fitting reliance seeps out their pores, and giving them some time to talk amongst themselves might be exactly what they need. Never hurts to be friendly, though. So, should they find more questions along their travels, Kate will have the coffee waiting at a quiet table.

She tips her hat, blue eyes smiling at each in turn, and before Nathan even answers Audrey's query she excuses herself with a few more kind words.