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[grip_on_reality]

[403 has had enough of being cooped up in that strange bathhouse. after all, when you're thrown into a weird situation, the first thing you do is explore, and that's exactly what she intends to do. with that plan in mind, she heads outside, stepping onto the Plane itself. for a moment she frowns at the ground, tapping it with her foot] What the hell is this?

[with no answers forthcoming, she continues forward, looking around her suspiciously] Some sort of...city? [she murmurs the words to herself as she looks around at the nearest buildings. her lip curls] Well, at least there's plenty to see.

[but before she sets out to explore one of those buildings, she cups her hands around her mouth and calls:] Oi! Anybody out 'ere?

[she waits a moment, her expression wry as she mutters:] We can probably rule out an egomaniac. They'd 'ave 'ad more to say by now... [but, cupping her hands, she gives shouting one more go before setting off on her own] Anybody around? Hello?

Comments

[grip_on_reality]

[Menzies is in no hurry to stop either] Keep going! They could still be coming!

[by which she means the Terravore, but it works well enough either way. her head is pounding as she runs, but she's determined to get as far from there as possible. unconsciously, she's heading back in the direction of the bathhouse as the only safe place she knows]

[ex_oneiromancer912]

[Wrists bleeding, Morgana chases after her. And it's at the bathhouse doors that she realizes the noise is gone.]

[Her heart is still pounding. She stares at her wrists, burned and a little bloodied, at the dirt now on her skin. And the faint smell of smoke clings to her.]

What... what happened?

[grip_on_reality]

[Menzies stops there, too, finally letting Morgana go. she's surprised as she looks down to find blood on her hands. she notices the smell of smoke as well, but she thinks it's from her. a couple of those blasts were close enough to singe her hair] I...I don't know. [she shakes her head, trying to will her heart to stop racing--which she hopes will also help her head. she steps back to lean against the wall] I think it was different for each of us. I saw these giant...robot mosquito things...

[looking at her bloody hands, she can't quite work out how the two are connected--and then she realises they aren't] Hey! We've gotta patch you up. [she frowns at Morgana's bleeding wrists, thinking through the supplies they have to hand] Can you tear that dress? We should put pressure on your wrists.

[ex_oneiromancer912]

Oh. Oh, yes. [806 quickly takes to tearing her petticoat. She does not know why, but it seems she knows exactly what to do.] It must have been as before: an illusion cast over each of us and made real in its effects.

[grip_on_reality]

Except this time it was both of us. But why two different illusions, I wonder? [she pauses thoughtfully. that seems like it would create more work when either option would have been just as dangerous. she frowns; she can think of one possible reason, and she doesn't like it]

Let's go in. We ought to wash those wounds in the baths at least--and see if we can find something proper to patch 'em up with. But here, let me 'elp you wrap 'em up first. [she reaches out to take the strips that Morgana is tearing since she's sure Morgana would find it rather difficult to bandage her own wrists]

[ex_oneiromancer912]

Yes, thank you. [She looks at Menzies as the other woman bandages the injuries.] Do you have any theories?

[grip_on_reality]

[she makes a face] They seem a bit...personal, don't you think? I see giant robots--which I very much doubt they 'ad back in Camelot. And you see people calling you a witch. [because even if she couldn't see what was happening to Morgana, she did hear that much--and has a pretty good guess about what else happened, too] We're being attacked by something that's...familiar, maybe? Something that's meant for us, at least.

[she finishes wrapping the bandages] That should do for a start. Ready to go in?

[ex_oneiromancer912]

[Morgana nods to the question. She considers Menzies's words.]

I wonder why the pub gave only you a vision like this, but we were both afflicted in the ballroom.

[grip_on_reality]

[she frowns thoughtfully as she heads inside] Dunno. Maybe this place didn't 'ave a read on you yet? Maybe telling me what you did remember gave it an idea. Or it could be something else. 'ard to say; we 'aven't got much evidence to go by.

[ex_oneiromancer912]

[Morgana's voice is quiet.] I don't really want to try to find out. [That would mean going back. The thrill of terror still courses through her.]

[grip_on_reality]

[Menzies' expression falters, too. she sighs, looking down at Morgana's wrists] Let's just get you patched up for now. We can worry about that later. Come on. [she offers Morgana a hand]

[ex_oneiromancer912]

[She takes it and follows along.] Even this place seems awful now. Wrong, somehow.

[grip_on_reality]

Tch. When did it ever seem right? Or does not knowing who you are strike you as normal?

[she pauses as they head into the first floor outdoor bath area, muttering half to herself:] If this place 'ad a first aid kit, where would they keep it? Front desk, maybe?

[ex_oneiromancer912]

Somewhere easily at hand, I would think.

[grip_on_reality]

Desk in the corner, then. [she leads Morgana over to it, letting go of her hand to look behind it] 'ere we are! [she pulls out a small kit, frowning at it] This looks like something out of the past. Anyway, it'll do. Have a seat at the desk, love. It's got antiseptic, and that's gotta be better than washing in these baths.

[ex_oneiromancer912]

[She sits, frowning.] I don't know the word 'antiseptic.' We must truly be from very far away from each other.

[grip_on_reality]

Sounds like it. [considering that, she's grateful the kit appears to be from near her time at least] Here. [she opens a package of antiseptic wipes, then takes Morgana's wrists gently, undoing their earlier bandages] This'll sting a bit. [and she sets to work cleaning the wounds] What else do you remember about Camelot, anyway?

[ex_oneiromancer912]

[Morgana winces briefly, but she finds that she is easily used to pain like this. It doesn't bother her too much.] I remember... That it is bordered by such nations as Mercia and Nemeth, and its king is Arthur, who has reigned for less than three years. It welcomes even common folk into the ranks of its knights and outlaws magic. The land is good for harvests, and this has been a good year...

[grip_on_reality]

King Arthur, huh? [she smiles a little wryly. Morgana's world really does sound like legends come true.]

[she puts aside the antiseptic wipe, grabbing a roll of bandages to wrap around her wrists] That's a lot of specifics. But you don't remember anything about yourself? [she gives Morgana a curious look]

[ex_oneiromancer912]

[She shakes her head.] From my clothes, I think I must be a lady of the court. But I don't remember being one, and I cannot think of the names of any such ladies.

[grip_on_reality]

So...what, you remember what your country is like but not your own life? [she's quiet for a moment, thinking about it as she bandages Morgana's wrists] It's like this place is taunting us.

[ex_oneiromancer912]

[She nods, agreeing with both those statements.] What can you remember?

[grip_on_reality]

[she frowns, thinking. after a moment, she smiles wryly:] 'Bout the same. It's 2012. I'm from England--it's on an island, bordered by Wales and Scotland. Part of the United Kingdom. We've got a queen, but our actual government's based around the Prime Minister. You get the idea. [she looks down at herself. though she's disheveled after that experience, her suit is still clearly a nice one] I'd 'ave to guess I've got some sort of office job, but I've got no idea what.

[ex_oneiromancer912]

An... office of government? [Desk jobs are not a thing.]

[grip_on_reality]

[she snorts, her expression wry] You think so? Doesn't feel quite right. Mind you, I'm not sure what sort of job does feel right, so I guess anything's possible. But I don't...think...I'm a politician.

There. [she lets go of Morgana's hands, her wrists successfully bandaged] 'ow's that? Not too tight?