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text - un; bluebird69
so everyone's cool with the squid thing
like everyone just collectively agreed that was okay
and went with it
that's a thing people just live with in this crappy city
like everyone just collectively agreed that was okay
and went with it
that's a thing people just live with in this crappy city
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i've never been west of the mississippi. what is kansas like?
and i've been terribly rude, my apologies. my name is rose dawson.
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Nah, you're alright. Everyones entitled to being a little pissy after washing up on a beach as a squid. I'm Dean Winchester.
[ her name sounds hella familiar, but he can't place it. it's pretty, though. ]
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and i'd said before i came here that i was through with being polite, but old habits die hard. it's very nice to meet you, mr. winchester.
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polite is nonsense, better to be genuine. nice to meet you, rose.
what year are you from?
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i'm coming to the same conclusion about being polite.
[and there's a long pause at the end of which comes]
1912.
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no wonder you haven't heard of it.
seriously?
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everything is so different and this omni is really strange.
and i'm not sure i'll ever be able to eat seafood again.
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i need a drink. or ten.
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there has to be a pub around here somewhere?
we could meet somewhere and try to find it?
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best idea i've heard today. do you know where you are?
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gimme a bit, there's a wiggly lamp dude outside my house that some blond dude told me could teleport
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A wiggly lamp dude?
That's the first time I've heard of such a thing.
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[ He's not...thrilled about trying it, but it's damned convenient that it's in front of his house and sure enough, it dumps him right where he needs to be.
Location wise, anyway. Probably doesn't dump him at Rose's feet, but he'll be in the general vicinity. ]
I think I'm in the area. Where are you again?
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[she's far before the days of Analog, the science fiction magazine publishing stories by a who's who of science-fiction and fantasy. she will be entirely curious about it when it comes, but that won't be for eight years. she'll follow it past her eighties.
and the general vicinity is fine. she's wearing a pair of thick denim jeans, the kind worn by workmen in the 1910s, a green sweater, and the black cloak which had been given to her upon arrival. her hair is loose and hangs in long, red curls to her shoulderblades]
i'm at the Red. there's a huge red stone in the door, it's impossible to miss.
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...Even then I think it's less teleporting and more just...flying in some weird interdimensional space.
Anyway.
[ stop yammering and figure out where you are, Dean.
It'll take him a few minutes to get there, but she's right, it IS impossible to miss. ]
Okay. I see it now, you inside?
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[something both fascinating and horrifying. she'd participated in the religious rituals expected for a girl of her station, but she was never sure she believed in them]
i suppose we can discuss it further in person?
i am! in workman's denim and a red cable knit sweater. i have long and red curly hair and i'm undoubtedly looking around myself like i'm not entirely sure of what i'm doing here.
a joke, if a poor one.
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ok, cool. comin in.
[ The red sweater is helpful - and with the hair, she isn't too hard to pick out of the crowd. He slithers his way through like he's used to atmospheres like this, until he comes up, next to her, giving a little wave. ]
Hey, it's Dean.
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See you soon!
[her hair has always been her crowning glory. her father had red, curly hair like this and so did her mother, so she herself was doomed to have it as well. but even in a strange place like this, she takes care of it, one hundred brush strokes before she sleeps and when she wakes]
Dean! I'm so glad to meet you in person! I'm Rose Dawson.
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[ Pretty, he thinks, as he puts a hand out to shake. Young, but pretty. ]
This place is somethin' else.
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[her handshake is surprisingly firm for a girl her age]
That's putting it mildly! It seems like every time I turn around, something odd is happening. Though, people seem to be nice so far.
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Yeah, they do, actually. I haven't met many assholes yet.
[ A couple, but with a low key bitchy text post fulla microaggressions like he'd made, it was bound to happen. ]
What're you having? [ drinkwise, he means. ]
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It's almost strange, to have so many people here and so many of them pleasant. What are the odds of that?
[she's still in shock at the whole bartering for goods part. back home, money had meant everything]
A stout, assuming they have such a thing. How about you?
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[ Money had meant a lot to people where he's from, too.
...less so for him, considering all his credit card fraud, but you know. Whatever. ]
Probably whiskey of some kind. I'm sure they'll have something like that, right?
[ They must. Otherwise, why have a bar, right? ]
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[back home, Rose couldn't go a day or even half a day without her mother reminding her of why her marriage to Cal was essential, even if Rose didn't even like him, much less love him]
I'm not sure? I would think so, it's a fairly popular drink. [a pause] What's it like? I've never had it before.
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