[the rain, steady and renewing over the past few days, had turned into a downpour. For once, Jilly was actually attempting to keep the worst of it off of her as she made her way to her studio. She didn't have an umbrella, but she'd finally turned up the hood of her jacket so that it covered most of her curls, and her hands were shoved into her pockets. And she wasn't really looking at everything around her. The rain was coming down thick enough that it obscured the landscape, veiling everything in shades of grey]
[Of course it was bloody raining when he arrived. Like anything else could possibly go wrong.
But then doesn't something else always go wrong?
Like the tiny little detail that James has nowhere to stay, has no idea where to find a place or how to pay for it. He hasn't exactly be introduced to the concept that any free room is his to take. So he's just been wandering - first in an attempt to make himself scarce from the scene of his arrival; second - to get a feel of where he was. And he was very much put off by it.
He'd still maintain the sad little persona of a beaten man, the stitches on his forehead would only arouse the wrong kind of curiosity if he didn't use them upfront.
James had ducked under an awning, with the way the rain was coming down he didn't want to be wet and hurt at the same time if he could avoid it. He'd gotten ahold of an over-sized shirt to wear but he still donned his 'new arrival' trousers. Under the very big woolly sweater were his wings - two black, little pathetic things that had failed to move an inch since he arrived.
Jilly was the first person who had happened past him in over thirty minutes and he wasn't going to pass that up.
He cleared his throat, the sound drowned out from the noise of the rain but - thought that counted. He didn't even have to try to look pathetic.]
[she hears the words, even if she doesn't hear the soft sound before them, and she looked up, shielding her gaze with one hand.
Her eyes widened just slightly when they landed on the wounded man, darting from his hangdog expression to the stitches and the tell-tale remnants of new-feather clothing. There was a terrible bruise forming on his jaw, cuts and abrasions from a recent fist fight...and bruises in the shape of fingers at his throat.
She wasn't a doctor, but she'd seen enough of this on the street to guess at what had happened to him...and not that long ago. Everything about this was fresh.]
Oh-
Oh god. Are you alright? [it was a ridiculous question, really. He obviously wasn't. But where her initial words failed her, her body language didn't. In an instant, everything about her stance changed.
Her hands went wide and open at her sides, fully visible. Her shoulders relaxed and--after the initial shock--her blue eyes settled on his. Everything about her diminished what little threat she might have been...not that she'd really have posed much of one, being barely over 5'0".]
[James - under the persona - staves off a laugh that sounds partially like a cry. Breathless in a sense.
Ahh - no, m'not alright. [Obviously. Understatement of the year. Reflexive to the perpetual itch of fresh stitches, James scratches at the area of his hairline close to the sutures and withdrawals the finger instantly. Chiding himself internally.]
I just...I dunno. I was home one moment - [On a rooftop, sticking a gun in his mouth, forcing a man to kill himself. Home sweet home.] - and then I woke up here in the clinic and there was this absolute madman in the room with me and he just... [He takes a quick breath, shuddering. He manages a pained smile.]
[that staves of her next reaction, which was to suggest the clinic. Times like these really made her miss Len more than ever.
Her voice is soft, worry marring her features.] I'm so sorry...
[if it occurs to her to ask why he was attacked, she doesn't do it. She knows too well how it feels to be blamed when you're the victim of a crime.
Father forgive me, for I have sinned. I made my brother...
She doesn't reach for him, either. Having just been attacked, that's probably the last thing he wants. Instead, she forces the tiniest of smiles, tilting her head back in the direction she'd come] Do you want to get out of the rain? There's food and drink just a little further in the village. [and there'd be a chance to see how bad his injuries really were]
[James might stand a good eight inches taller than her but he manages to make himself look unbelievably small; shoulders hunched in and head bowed while his frame drowned in fabric.
He looked as if he was just barely keeping himself from letting any tears loose. And really, who could blame him? He'd just woken up in a strange place with wings and had someone nearly beat him to death. Any normal person would be upset.]
Please? [He looked hopeful for a moment. That someone might actually be able to help him.]
[her brow furrowed, apologetic] I'm sorry...I don't have an umbrella.
[fine with the rain for herself, she didn't like forcing him out into it when he already looked so miserable...but she was hoping food and warmth would help]
The name of the village is Luceti. It's...well, I'd say it's probably not what you're expecting, but you've had just about the worst welcome possible. [her tone was gentle as she kept a careful eye on him, starting to head in the direction of the village shops. If he didn't look able to travel, she'd have to call for one of the healers or doctors to help him] It's not usually like that, though. Not that you've got any reason to believe me.
[that laugh was a relief, really, and she gives him a faint smile at the sound.] Jilly.
...I'm not saying it's for sure--I don't know what happened--but if you woke up in the clinic...maybe they did too. Not everyone takes showing up here well.
[she shook her head, some of her curls escaping her hood to be instantly drenched by the rain] If wings and kidnappings weren't enough, there's no telling where people will end up.
...But I guess no one's really been able to talk to you about all this yet, right? You probably have a world of questions.
I'd say it's easier, hearing it from a person, but I don't know how true that actually is.
[her head tilted as she thought] I'm not sure. Over a hundred, I think, though I'm not sure how much more.
[thankfully they weren't far from the main part of town, and she directs them towards the coffee shop. There would be hot and cold drinks there, and food. And it would be more quiet than Good Spirits.]
[it's a accompanied by a sideways glance. Not out of distrust, really, but surprise.
She had accepted it with little question...but then, she'd always believed in places like this. Or wanted to believe, anyway. She wasn't used to others being so accepting, especially after going through the kind of ordeal he'd faced. If anything, she would have expected that to make him less trusting.]
[she gives him a small, apologetic smile] Well, you've had to deal with a bit more than a pinch. But I get it. I thought I was in the Dreamworlds when I first got here.
[It doesn't take long for Adele to find a small container of lanacane and a warm compresses for James' neck. She still...didn't know what it was she'd stepped into, but he was her patient, and it would never be said of her that she did not treat her patients well. Bag in hand, she knocks on the door of room six and takes a step back. Just in case.]
[If it was at all possible for a door to open meekly, it did just now. James is on the other end, still with that sad little smile and shoulders that curl forward.]
Hi. Come on in. Kettle's just boiled if you want something...
[The place is standard. Like every other house in the building. He has groceries courtesy of Jilly and that's it.]
It is appreciated, but unwarranted, James. I should not be here long.
[Just long enough to check his stitches, give him the cream, and make sure the bruising is healing as it ought to. Not terribly long at all. Her voice was brisk, but not unkind, and she stepped in with a sideways glance at him. Nothing familiar, and nothing to worry about. James was just another confused individual pulled to Luceti.]
[her concern kept her grounded and more serious than usual, but some of her characteristic joy comes back to her eyes at the question.]
My friend Sophie...she can visit another world when she sleeps. It's not just a normal dream though. Not like you'd expect. she actually has a full life there, and she's not the only person I know who's been there.
[she gave him a sideways glance, and from her smile it's hard to tell whether she's being serious or pulling his leg] Of course, she's got fairy blood, so it's never been a surprise that she could get there. When I woke up here, with wings, I kind of hoped that I'd managed to dream myself over, too.
[James listens intently as he trots after her, nodding at the right moments and humming up until 'fairy blood' is mentioned...then he goes quiet and speaks after she's finished.]
[Six older sisters, one younger brother, numerous nieces. Puppy eye'd pleading and soft disappointment would not move her. Not this time, at least. She sets her bag just inside the door and carries the compress and ointment over to James, looking him over.]
Have you had any difficulty sleeping?
[Speaking as she works, slim fingers unscrewing the top of the cream and pulling out a little dollop; her other hand brushing his hair back and out of the way. Adele's face is blank, her tone brusque, but her hands are gentle.]
[Which is true, James Moriarty has terrible luck with sleep and generally grabs a few hours when he feels the need to. It's not a compulsion. James is - like Adele - blank face as she administers the cream to his forehead.]
Either you sleep well, and continue to despite the assault, or you've always slept poorly. I think it might be safe to assume the latter.
[Since they've time enough she's careful when dabbing the cream on and around the skin she'd stitched not long ago, working it into the irritated skin pass by pass.]
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