entrancelogs | [open/closed]

Entry tags:

[open/closed]

Who: Faith Lehane, Lydia Martin, open to all!
Where: Library
When: 04-Aug
Rating: PG+ (language)
Summary: Faith Lehane arrives by destroying 3 stacks of books in the library
The Story:

i came in like a wrecking ball (closed: lydia martin)

Faith would swear the library is where people go to nap in vacuum-sealed silence. Bring a pillow, find a corner -- it's good in a pinch when you've got nowhere else to go. As long as you're clean and not smattered with blood.

Or flying through the air.

Into one of the impossibly tall stacks. Why do they even position the shelves like this? Now Faith has to fight to stop the entire row from Domino-ing all the way down. The second stack starts to go down and she's only just getting up from where she landed after thudding into the first one.

"Four!" OK probably not the best thing to shout but it's all that comes to mind as Faith tries to at least warn whoever might be in those rows. She's already in the air again, arcing up and over the still-falling shelves. When she hits the ground, it's just as the third stack kisses the fourth, sending it teetering precariously. She holds her breath, hoping for the best and expecting the worst.

But the fourth stack stays upright, allowing Faith to re-position the one she's holding. Well, at least the books didn't get crushed. Finally, she blinks, swiveling her head back and forth. This is not London. This is definitely not an alleyway. And her friends are also not present. So, uh.

"Where the hell am I?"

don't you ever say she just walked away (open to all)

Most of her first hours in Wonderland have seen Faith re-shelving books. She's done the whole alternate dimension routine and hopped through a portal or two, so really it's not worth it to make a whole big deal out of the event. Well, aside from the whole actual Wonderland detail. She'd have been happier winding up in a universe of shrimp than have to deal with queens and rabbits or whatever.

"These aren't even alphabetical," she grumbles. Seriously, who organizes this stuff? Why does she have to keep referencing a number?

She's less than gentle, taking only enough care not to damage a paperback or jam one of the hardcovers. Reading them? No. Not that Faith can't get down with some research but it needs to apply to something and the only thing she cares about now is getting home.

If a book is going to tell her how to get home, she knows damn well she's not Fred Burkle levels of smart enough to make it work. So, re-shelving. And lots of scowling.

Maybe it's a little bit denial, but she's not ready to check out the digs yet. Just because they got a room waiting for her doesn't mean she's just jumping right in to get all domestic on it. Until she finds out about the food. Girl could devour a hoagie right about now...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Victor very much appreciates the library being back in one location again. When he has free time and a care to spend it in quiet contemplation, the library is often one of the first stops on his list--as it is today.

He misses the initial devastation Faith causes, but arriving to see someone putting books back on shelves that have spat up their contents, the doctor doesn't fail to notice the after-effects. What's happened here...? He narrows his eyes at the woman, making already serious-looking features seem positively grim.

And she certainly isn't Evelyn.

"Some of those volumes are fragile."

Ahem, he can't very well ignore the blatant mistreatment of books happening right in front of him. They're innocent. Not to mention, often more helpful and engaging than actual people.

Wow, OK. If Faith wasn't used to getting that feeling from vampires, she'd sure as hell wager this guy was a blood drinker. He looks gaunt enough that she stills for a second to feel him out.

She moves through the assumption quickly, but remains mid-motion as she processes how to deal with his sharp look. The book in her hand hangs in the air halfway to its (probably incorrect) mark on the shelf.

"Uh." Ooh, very eloquent. She's suddenly washed over with memory of another bookworm who liked to tut at her for dog-earing ancient tomes and breaking the spines of newer collections. The corner of her mouth twitches up before she processes an actual response. "Right, yeah. Sorry. I uh, I just got here. Kinda got thrown on them, not really my choice. Take it up with the overgrown Smurf that did the throwing."

Although he's made a study of them and even killed some, of all the things Victor is, a vampire isn't one of them. An occasional night owl? Yes. Pasty-faced to a fault? Yes. Kind of creepy? Also yes. At the moment, he hasn't yet ventured into dining on human blood, however.

The day is still young.

He tilts his head slightly, appraising her in return. He doesn't get the impression she's a part of the supernatural community, but probably is someone from a different time and place, judging by how far removed she is from the typical 1890s kind of woman.

"'Thrown on them'?" Victor's not sure what he should be picturing.

She could try explaining what an overgrown Smurf is, but considering this is one English bookworm who'd been born long before the invention of the modern television, she may have her work cut out for her.

As to the books themselves... "Either way, there are plenty of other things to take your frustrations out on besides the books," he points out. "I can promise they had nothing to do with bringing you here."

That makes her chew on her lip a moment, tossing words around in her head. Victor seems like exactly the type of person she likes to get a rise out of, but she's a little bit off her game considering the dimension-hopping and all. She's definitely antsy, and having someone zero in on the fact that she can't get a hold of it only seems to exacerbate it.

"Illyria didn't exactly follow me through, and I'm helping Red get this all back in order since it's technically my fault." She moves to her next question without a breath: "What, are you a librarian or something?"

Also she has a bad habit of throwing names around like everyone knows what she's talking about.

Victor is starting to see her aversion to giving context for himself. A genius he may be, but he's not a mind reader, and what she says holds little meaning for him; his expression stays appraising, brow furrowed, clearly not comprehending. Follow her through? Follow her through what, a portal? They'd have plenty of those lingering about, but none recently that he knows of.

He moves to rescue the most delicate-looking book from her pile before she can get to it, trading a question for a question. "By "just got here," you mean to the library, or... however you'd like to put it. This reality? This world?"

If she's recently arrived to Wonderland, that could explain some things.

After he asks this, he gives an answer. "Not in the slightest, I just have an appreciation for them." He slides his book into its proper place, treating it a little more gently and carefully. "And I also couldn't help but notice this place looks like a mess. Now I know how that happened."

Whoops. Right, the whole thing where she's supposed to pay more attention to saying what's on her mind instead of the more fun repress until murder thing. She pushes hair out of her face before jumping in to clarify.

"Wonderland, I mean. One minute me and the god-wannabe who's possessing my friend are going toe to toe, you know?" Faith pauses and jerks a little, to grab a different book that she was totally aiming for and not because his sudden snatching has surprised her. She would've doubled down on him deciding to flee at this point. "I'm flying across an alley figuring some car's gonna break my fall but instead I hit books."

Her thumbs run over the cover of the book she'd chosen, the texture of the linen-wrapped chipboard grounding, soothing. Three years in murder rehab and she still forgets to just talk this stuff out. "So yeah, sorry about the manhandling. Lot going on in here is all."

For his own sake, perhaps he shouldn't be trying to puzzle the woman and her modern language out, but what she says--the god-wannabe who's possessing my friend--makes him blink, and he pauses where he is, one hand still resting on the shelf above him.

Against all odds, he does know a little of what that's like.

Victor turns back to her slowly, too surprised by having something even indirectly in common with her to offer up the sardonic reply he'd been considering. "You seem fairly self-possessed for someone who'd been in the middle of danger before abruptly finding themselves in this place," he says instead, sounding almost... curious? Being the master of detachment, the hints in his expression are subtle enough they could easily go missed.

He could probably stand to serve some time in her rehab; talking, or showing, or even acknowledging some of his feelings is a tall order some days.

"Yeah?" Faith smirks in obvious surprise. It's not a word usually applied to her: self-possessed. But she can probably shed a little light on it, if she keeps remembering to be upfront.

"I'm no vet, but portal-jumping's not news to me. Though-- last time I did it there was way more immediate danger and about 500% less books." She is really considering it now, one hand flitting through the air; Faith might actually rather be in Quor'toth at the moment, killing something or nearly being killed by something. Still, she was safe for now. "Red was pretty huffy but she didn't strike me as the axe-tossing type."

At that, Faith looks Victor over with a little more scrutiny, figuring him to be about the same. Not that that didn't mean he wasn't capable of violence. Hell, Fred was about the last person she'd expected to haul Faith around like a rag doll.

At home in 1891 England, he's survived a fair amount of inexplicable events and creatures, but that had been in a single world, in a single point in time. He'd still classify experience in using wormholes and combat with pseudo-gods as far, far out of the ordinary. Almost impossibly so, if he were a little less open-minded.

"Yes. I wouldn't guess many people could take those things in stride without having some sort of crisis of faith first. Or did I miss that part along with you falling into the bookshelves?"

Yet here she is, brushing aside the mind-crushing unbelievability of it all. (Either that, or she has a profound talent for acting.) Coming from Victor, pointing out her calmness is pretty much a compliment.

Time for another obvious question. "Who is this 'Red'?"

"What, you think I just figured I'd jump into a library 'cause I felt like getting my clean up on?" She's never been the best at interpersonal relations. Up until now she'd been comfortable relying on surface indifference and wayward jokes that generally succeeded in putting people at ease in her company.

But it seems now that Victor has started to use up the last of her reserves. Something about his sharp observations and very insightful questions is chipping at her emotional armor a little harder than the rest. Her tone has turned a little snappy, and her hands grip at the book, wrinkling one of the pages under her thumb as she works to rein in her frustration.

"And I don't remember her name. Something cheerleadery. Lindsey or Livia or something. Red hair, real bossy."

"Of course not. Just making an observation."

Faith's right on the money--observing is kind of Victor's thing. So is sometimes pairing them with wry remarks.

He'd only meant to say it's rather odd for someone in her position to be acting so casual, but as he suspected might be the case, that's not the truth of it. Her humor has limits, clearly. Hardly a surprise. It'd be stranger if she was actually unbothered by all of this.

"I'm not familiar with her, but there's a fair number of people here," he says. (Perhaps even a fair number of bossy women among them.) As he looks Faith over, Victor offers a calculated sort of greeting. "A welcome is in order, I suppose. If you have injuries, you're free to see the clinic on the first floor."

Though he minds the injuries to the books just as much.

Oh, now he wants to be worried. Trouble is, it's exactly the kind of thing Faith responds to. Had he borne more malicious intent, Victor might find himself well on his way to finding out how easily manipulated Faith can be.

"I'm good. Besides, they're just gonna tell me what I already know and I'll still feel bad about wrecking this place up. Might as well just finish up here and..." And figure out what to do now? She's been told getting out doesn't happen when you feel like it. Her hand started to smooth the crinkled page before she flaps it shut and puts it on the shelf -- much gentler than she'd been doing before. She picks another one up with more care this time, too.

Her stomach doesn't growl, but she realizes it's been hours since she had lunch, now. "Grab a bite or something, I guess. What do newbies usually get up to around here?"

Somewhere in that pale, unhealthy frame exists a beating heart with compassion for other people.

Somewhere.

"Generally doctors do more than that--like treat and prescribe," he points out, feeling he should make a token effort to stand by his profession at least a little, but he likewise gets the feeling she's not listening, her priorities oriented in a different direction.

A direction that may, as it turns out, point to her stomach.

Picking up another book, Victor glances at its number before settling it back in with its fellows. He appreciates the order, Wonderland having so little of it to begin with. Then he considers the question. "Look around? Try to come to terms with what's happening being real and not a figment of the imagination? What does one normally do when they fall into another world?"

For Victor and Vanessa, it'd been a little of both, with a side of meeting people. For all intents and purposes, though, Faith seems to be in better shape than two Victorians struggling to make sense of a huge leap forward in technology.

Maybe he could carry some in those giant bags under his eyes?

"Try to get out." Her tone carries with it a valley-girl amount of duh! that Buffy herself would be proud of. But Faith sobers near immediately with a shrug. "But since that's off the table, my go-to method of punching things means I'm hanging out limbo-style right now."

Hey, look. Honesty and frankness. At the very least her tone is an obvious mix of frustration and kinetic energy now reduced and redirected from beatings to cleanings. The one thing she doesn't say aloud is how similar to prison this feels. And that it's making her a little itchy.

Well, yes, escaping this living dream certainly rounds out the list of things to do to keep oneself occupied. In reply, he lifts his eyebrows in an unmistakably well, obviously sort of way. "Try, yes. But if there were a clear way to do that as of yet, you wouldn't need to ask," he says, suppressing a bemused smile at her standpoint.

She's an odd one--but not the most intolerable or nonsensical person he's come across in these parts, or even in this library.

"You said you were in a confrontation before you found yourself here--with a friend. Have you looked into the possibility one or more of them could be here?"

She nods, choosing to start stuffing the judgmental tone down and actually try to have a civil conversation. Even if he does use a lot of $10 words, Victor's own shift in tone seems to work wonders on Faith.

"Yeah, met up with someone already." And as usual, the awkwardness had abounded. "Thing is, he's 3-years-ago him which is wicked confusing."

Is she confiding? As odd as the situation is, and as comfortable Faith is with it she's still thrown by how to deal. And sometimes talking to strangers is easier. You get to practice what you wanna say without all the voices in your head reminding you that you're terrible at this and suggesting that maybe you just run away and hide forever.

"Small world," he remarks, picking up a book that seems to have been written in the twenty first century, just as a mind-boggling large amount of the library's selection appears to be.

By "3-years-ago him" Victor assumes she means she's encountered someone she knows from a point three years in her past, which doesn't illicit a great deal of surprise. That sort of thing is common in Wonderland, though he, too, is still wickedly confused by it when he can see no rule system in place to govern it.

"Yes, that happens. What people remember and the year they believe they're from is inconsistent more often than not." There may or may not be a sigh trapped in his throat. He takes issue with the illogical nature of damn well everything here. "I doubt you and I come from the same era, either."

That's putting it mildly.

"Yeah, no kidding. You sound kinda like him. Probably from 17whatever or something." It's a vague approximation that pretty much means super old without the bonus of making Faith sound like she's still 16. But having spent the last couple of years around Giles and then living in London have proved that Faith is rather undaunted by being the rough Yankee in the mix. Considering she'd operated under the moral tutelage of Angel for a good chunk of her adult life, she sometimes relishes it.

Faith knows now that even the most upstanding-looking person can have the darkest demons.

"Just happens, what with hopping dimensions. Two days somewhere is four seconds somewhere else. Guess it adds up." A non-chalant addition and explanation. One that's good enough for Faith, anyway. It is, as they say, what it is.

His eyebrows rise higher and higher. "Was that supposed to be an approximation of the year? You'd be off by more than a hundred."

For the record.

Given this rough Yankee and bookish Victor couldn't be more different, Victor sincerely doubts he could have that much in common with her companion and whatever walk of life they come from, but he doesn't press the point, more intrigued by her admission.

"You "hop" dimensions regularly, do you?"

"It's not a hobby, but it happens." She's enjoying this conversation. Faith thinks she's doing a bang up job -- within 100 years? Damn, she's good.

And the way he mimics her words, that's amusing too. She was on the right track with the Angel comparison, she thinks, but there's something else. Not quite Giles, not Fred...

"Explains a lot, though. The whole--" Faith realizes with a vague wave of her hand, who Victor reminds her of. Somebody that she used to know, for sure. "Dark and uppity thing you got going on."

Dark and upp--

What?

Victor frowns uncomprehendingly and looks at himself as if that should offer some explanation. Well, excuse him for getting up and getting dressed this morning. He's at least presentable, unlike certain other someones here.

"You're quick to lay down judgement when I'm hardly the suspicious one."

Edited 2015-09-18 02:46 (UTC)

"I'm always quick to judge. Not really a benefit of the doubt kind of person." It's a quick response before Faith processes the rest of his statement.

It makes her smirk a little, and stop working to think about that. "I'm suspicious?"

Nice.

His eyebrows start to climb his face once more. That's terribly rich coming from an uncouth American.

"Forgive me if I don't hold much stock in the scale you're grading by. Have you forgotten the state of the library already?" Or who had put it in that state, inadvertently or otherwise?

Pointedly, he looks to the book she has left to shelve, at the signs of disorder. The woman had all but admitted she'd barrelled in and made a scene, and isn't shy now to talk about demons and portals connecting universes. Yes, Victor would say those things would count as suspicious in some circles.

"Hit a nerve? Didn't mean anything by it. It works for you." She already apologized for the accident she still doesn't feel responsible for, so Faith chooses to continue poking at what she perceives to be a chink in Victor's armor.

"If I'm so scary, why are you still hanging with me? Takes one to know one, maybe?"

Edited (wrong tense oops) 2015-09-30 19:21 (UTC)

His nerves have to be stepped on harder than that to upset him; she can mock his appearance and his disposition if she likes, they pale in comparison to someone claiming to have a passing acquaintance with time distortions.

"Suspicious as in there being more than meets the eye. Not the same thing as scary," he interjects, feeling the need to protest that he'd be so easily intimidated. "Unless I have something to fear?"

Is there some reason he should be afraid?

Too late, he thinks perhaps he ought to have turned their debate another way, or put it to bed entirely. His own reputation works against him in this instance. For many people in Wonderland, Victor Frankenstein is a character to both fear and resent. If he were to give this woman his name, his full name and not just his alias, he might only be making himself look the bigger fool.

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