entrancelogs | certain to tell you, confusion has its cost

There is one aspect Evie has failed to consider in her clever calculations: A scenario in which Philip is really not that upset at all, really feels that no explanation is necessary, at least not to her.

True, true, he did need a bottle and some time, but the credit for that goes to Dean alone; a stunt he still hasn't quite processed and a reaction on his part which he's starting to doubt more and more with each minute.

Time then, to take a break. Apologise to Evie for the lapse in memory (nobody wants to be forgotten like that and he does remember her expression, after all) and perhaps - yes, perhaps and here Philip frowns for not thinking of it sooner - ask if she is all right, after all being in his dream means escaping hers and surely that can't exactly bode well now, can it?

He knocks on her door and is met with silence. He reaches for his comm device to give her a call and realises that it's still upstairs in his room. Well then, he might as well have a quick look into the library first since that's usually a rather good bet.

Walking over he opens the door, fails to spot her and calls out (with as much respectful quiet as the raised voice allows):

"Evie? Are you there?"

Edited 2012-02-29 23:30 (UTC)

The quiet that usually drapes over the library like a heavy blanket is broken, and Evie almost drops a copy of something ridiculous titled Roy O'Bannon Versus The Mummy. Barely catching the book with one hand, she replaces it on the shelf and exhales sharply.

Close one.

"I'm here!"

She replies, turning out of a row, moving to the source of the disembodied voice, because it sounded like it had come from the second-floor entrance, and-

"Oh."

Oh.

"Philip."

Evelyn blinks. This is rather sooner than she thought. At least he isn't looking at her like that again. It doesn't make her feel much better, but he's all right, he isn't asking her who the Devil she is.

"How, ah...how are you?"

Oh Evelyn, Philip has crossed oceans of library stairs to be with you!

"Good, I--"

Well.

One.

A small one.

"I'm good."

The reward for his journey his a hug and a kiss, at least that is the plan, at least that is why he puts his hands on her shoulder and pulls her closer.

(Aversion to public displays of affection be damned, these days he needs all the tangible reasons to love Wonderland he can get.)

"What about you?"

All right, so he wanted to get the apology out of the way first, but he guesses the usual set of pleasantries can't hurt.

"Fine," she replies simply, accepting the hug and not entirely invested in her reciprocation of the kiss.

...at least he's here, though. He may not realise what he did, but he's here.

And perhaps fine is the wrong word. It's certainly not the right one, and when said so casually, with little inflection - particularly nowadays - its meaning tends to be the opposite. Evelyn isn't a catty, petty sort of girl. It's fairly easy for her to get over things, given the chance, but with no one taking the initiative until now, the road has been a little bumpy.

Already tired of passive-aggression, Evie wraps both arms around his waist and looks up at him.

"You didn't come for a book, did you?"

The tension doesn't go unnoticed. Maybe he should have cleared the air first, but truth to be told--

Truth to be told there really is no excuse that can quite cover up the guilt he feels about the night- the nights he spent with his dream girlfriend, no, rather girlfriend in his dream, Valerie was far from perfect in real life, although she certainly could have fooled him this time and anyway, how are you supposed to explain your transgression in an alternative dimension?

No. No, Philip can't be blamed for that and he won't give Evelyn the chance to try, that is-- That is just an itch that will have to remain unscratched, a little something that will remain unspoken from now until forever, by himself and by the narration, in fact--

...What was it we were talking about again?

"No. No, of course not, I..."

Ah yes, premature kissing. You see, the apology is important to Philip, but in a sense the apology is also rather... how to put this? A matter of form above all else.

"I was looking for you, I-"

Like a date you missed by an hour because the bus you took was involved in an accident that delayed you considerably and of course when you see the pain and disappointment in her eyes you feel awful and you wish it had never happened like that, but when it all comes down to it it wasn't your fault.

"I wanted to-- About the event. Evie, I'm... I'm really sorry I didn't recognise you."

Edited 2012-03-01 00:42 (UTC)

It's probably for the better that Philip keeps his Valerie story under wraps, because despite being the down-to-earth woman that she is, Evelyn is also susceptible to feelings of jealousy, betrayal, and anger - the usual spiel with ladytypes when it comes to their menfolk hanging around other members of the fairer sex.

Having her storm away from the library probably isn't on Philip's to-do list for the day.

"...I know you are," Evie says quietly, because it's easy to see in his face. What she doesn't really understand is why.

Why didn't he know the difference between his dream and the reality of Wonderland? How had he not realised that something was off? The very first thing she noticed was how strange it was to be home, how oppressive the atmosphere seemed.

"It isn't just that you didn't recognise me, though," she adds readily, since he's already gotten the ball rolling. "I didn't like the way you were talking, it was- it was as though you were talking down to me, and that's...not something I expected from you, of all people."

The Bembridge Scholars, yes. The museum curator? Of course. These particular circumstances are unavoidable; they still hurt, but it isn't unusual behaviour.

"I've already had enough men in my life treat me like a schoolgirl. I don't want to feel that small again."

Edited 2012-03-01 01:44 (UTC)

On one of the nearby chairs Philip takes a seat, his hands sliding down to Evie's wrists. Worry forms in his expression as he looks up to her, facing an accusation he didn't anticipate and can't even rightly explain without thinking back to it first.

And even as he does he just can't seem to get a good grasp on it.

"That's not-- I didn't mean to--"

That. Not that. But how? She was a stranger and he sent her away. Perhaps with an impatient tone? Perhaps without listening to what sounded too absurd before it was even spoken out loud?

'It's, um... Professor LaFresque, if you don't mind.'

Or perhaps that?

"I thought it was all just a prank!"

A voice that implores, a voice that begs her to understand how little this dimension means, how it couldn't possibly be an accurate reflection of his feelings for her.

"Philip," she states firmly, taking his hands in hers. "I'm not accusing you of deliberately trying to hurt me."

Evelyn is perfectly aware that that's exactly what it sounds like, which may make it hard to convince him that she's mostly all right now, she just wanted to give him a heads-up about the whole uncomfortable student-teacher thing.

"I mean, you did, but it's happened and there's nothing to be done about it, and-"

And all it did was offer her a series of what ifs. What if they met out in the real world by some crazy-random happenstance? What if it's the same dimension? What if time travel was possible and wormholes weren't just obscure bits of scientific theory and what if they did encounter each other? Would she be old, young? Would he think she was just as mad as before? A student's girlfriend with a not-so-clever joke in an outdated hat and dress?

"...I just don't understand why you thought it was a prank, I- I woke up someplace else in my dream but I still knew it was wrong, and you couldn't remember anything, even with me standing right in front of you, and I..."

A deep breath.

"...I couldn't bring myself to try and pull you away because you seemed happy."

"Glad someone saw that," comes the quiet mutter after a mirthless laugh, a thought that escapes before Philip can stop it.

No, not the time and place for that. A deep breath then, as it were.

"I think..."

First lie, right there. Assumes is the word Philip should be looking for, because if he was looking for answers to those what ifs instead, well, the simplest way to put it is that Philip didn't stop being sure of himself and the world he lived in until Greenland and a practical demonstration of wormholes featuring a young woman in an outdated hat might not have fit into his reality all too comfortably.

"I... think I knew at the beginning, when the dream started I remembered, but... I remember I really didn't want to."

He loosens the grip on her hands slowly, looking down. This is Philip, unable to decide if he did something wrong.

"So I didn't."

Oh, Evelyn saw it. She didn't exactly like it, because seeing someone you care about, happy, without you, is a little upsetting.

But she never would have been able to convince him to leave, anyway. Her hands slip out of his.

"You forgot on purpose," Evie clarifies, feeling her throat constrict.

When she had woken up in 1926, curious dreams still roiling in her head, she hadn't waved them away. She thought about them all through breakfast, the morning foxhunt, afternoon tea. She thought about how strange it felt to sit at a dining room table with more than one person, to have a very handsome young man at her side telling her all about the defense he made at court this past weekend, to know that her brother had been killed in the Great War and yet...and yet he hadn't, Jonathan was alive somewhere, and none of it was real because it didn't feel right.

"Not just Greenland, but everything."

Waking up with new, freshly-planted memories is one thing. Waking up and not questioning something that has the potential to be real, intentionally wiping people who have the best intentions for you from your mind, is another thing entirely.

It implies that they don't matter.

Edited 2012-03-01 15:44 (UTC)

His voice lacks urgency, because the impact of his words on Evelyn is lost on Philip.

"No, I..."

It's not as simple as all that. He didn't get a menu, no elaborate dishes described in detail and no pen to pick one and send back the invitation, waiting to be served the course of his choice.

"I woke up. I remembered everything and for a bit..."

Tracing the fleeting sentiments is hard and he frowns, trying to bring them back in order.

"For a bit I wasn't sure which one was real, but- but I think... Wonderland just... seemed like the more obvious fantasy."

A short laugh. Not a part he thinks anyone could deny.

"After that I guess... I just stopped thinking about it, I guess it made sense to go on and forget about it. Like an odd dream."

He shrugs.

"And after a while it was gone."

A beat as he finally looks up from his thinker's position.

"What about you, did- did you actually remember?"

Somehow she must have. At least once she left, but if it was sooner than that it begs the question as to just why she left in the first place, exactly.

Edited 2012-03-01 17:08 (UTC)

The more obvious fantasy.

Perhaps it would appear that way to a scientist. To someone who likely spent a lot of time and effort attempting to rationalise something like Wonderland. Even to Evelyn, pragmatic and logical as she is, the idea that such a world could possibly exist outside of her own is beyond her ken.

She didn't necessarily believe in Wonderland, but she believed in her own reality. Enough to know that the dream was just a dream.

"I remembered everything. The expedition most clearly. But the world was...not ideal."

Is there another chair? Yes? Good. Evelyn pulls one closer to Philip's and sits, hands in her lap.

"I'd woken up thinking I'd seen a strange movie the night before, something out of a Georges Méliès film. The only thing I really knew was off was...well, my entire life. My brother had died at Verdun, my parents were still alive. I was engaged, for God's sake. Arranged marriage by my mother and grandmother, and I- I don't know what it was, but I knew that it wasn't what I was supposed to do. So I left."

She looks at Philip, then, almost sadly.

"I suppose your world was simply more convincing than mine."

Maybe that was just another problem. Philip's reality was bordering Wonderland dimensions of absurd and even the year before was nothing to write home about. And even if the choice had only been between a terrible nightmare in which his mum died and a bittersweet dream in which she was still alive, well...

"Engaged? You- you had a fiancé?"

Well. So much for priorities.

"...I suppose it makes more sense then, my, um, my dream was-"

Perfect.

"It wasn't... all that different from how things actually were a few years ago, I guess... that's why it must've been more difficult to tell apart."

Makes sense, right? Right?

"...right," Evelyn replies slowly, unconvinced. Philip didn't see himself from that outsider's perspective. He didn't see himself teaching and talking to students in a world without magical closets, in a place where it was the year 2001 all the time, a place that she couldn't fit into even if she tried.

Even if it were possible.

She should add something, shouldn't she? A contribution, an explanation...

"He- um. The man I was engaged to, he- he was some county solicitor, I can't even remember the fellow's name," Evie laughs, though it sounds more like a sharp exhale than anything good-humoured, "The poor thing was about as engaging as a brick wall."

She regrets not staying longer to be with her parents, at the very least. She isn't heartless. Ultimately, it was Evelyn's curiosity about the door leading to the servants' quarters that cost her another couple of days in her father's study, her mother's library.

What harm ever came from opening a door?

"I'm sorry you had to leave," Evie mentions after a moment of silence, words hanging in the air. Maybe it's because she actually recognises how much happier he actually was, despite their encounter being so brief in his dream. She couldn't be the one to take that away from him, even if it wasn't real.

Still...she tries on a faint smile. Evelyn is a glass-half-full person, after all.

"I know you missed grading theses."

Philip doesn't see all that much now; not the extent to which his reaction still hurts Evie and certainly not the why.

He sees relief and disappointment at the same time, a fiancé who didn't seem to stand a chance when it came to winning her deeper affection, but a fiancé who does nothing to even the odds either, because he was no first name Valerie last name Hayes age twenty-seven height 176 cm weight Jesus don't ask birthday fourth of September favourite colour dark red favourite food ENOUGH.

A sudden laugh, almost roaring.

The theses.

"Right? How could I possibly choose anything over those."

But his voice cracks and his smile faints just a little too soon, the wound it's supposed to cover just a little too fresh. And she doesn't even know the worst part yet.

"I actually--"

If he'd known that he was going to leave earlier anyway he would have preferred being talked back to his senses instead of adding another moment of near death terror to his memories, at least that is one of his favourite justifications for treating Dean the way he did.

"I didn't... actually get to stay until the end."

A beat.

"Dean pulled me out."

Edited 2012-03-01 23:43 (UTC)

She really can't remember the young man's name. Perhaps it says something about Evelyn and how difficult it is to hold her attention, or perhaps the dream just didn't know how to contain someone who is constantly trying to break the mould.

She'll settle down whenever she damn well pleases, not before or after.

Evelyn is just about to ask whether or not Philip had any similar scenarios when he changes the subject to something else completely.

"He did?"

No use trying to hide her surprise, there.

...Well. Perhaps she isn't so surprised. Dean Winchester has a rather forceful way about him. Crass, and not quite the same as Rick O'Connell, but markedly similar. She wouldn't put it past the man to not take "no" for an answer.

"How- I mean, what...what happened?"

The tone Philip is aiming for is neutral. His own doubts aside, if he is going to tell the story then he might as well tell it so that he gets the most out of that second opinion.

"I was at the movies with some people and he walked up to me, pretending he was an old friend."

A beat. This needs more air quotes.

"Pretending, I mean. I guess. I didn't recognise him either, anyway. He got the others to leave and I told him as much and then he..."

This one gets a small chuckle, despite everything. Dean was rather convincing at first and Philip can just imagine him working one of his case-- not the time.

"He said he was a government agent, he told me some story about my father and for a moment I actually believed him, because he knew things I hardly told anyone at home, so--"

A look that says well, you can imagine how that might have convinced me, given that I didn't remember spilling my life story to him before.

Another beat.

"And then he tried to get me to leave, some excuse about wanting my consult about some papers my father might've translated, I was... I guess I already had my doubts and it didn't help that the door back was through a public restroom."

A huffed laugh.

"So I refused, I said--"

On second thought, never mind what he said. Philip waves it off.

"I turned to leave, he stopped me and then he--"

Then Philip needs a quick pause, because delivering that last line with a level voice takes just a little more effort.

"He pulled a gun and forced me through the door."

All of this sounds very much like a particularly clever set-up to an especially brilliant film plot, but perhaps she's been watching one too many detective movies lately. Mister Winchester acting as a Bureau of Investigation agent or a private eye, packing heat and a flask, digging into the perp's business like a- Okay, enough noir films.

A Philip who didn't know Dean refused to believe him. Evelyn can empathise.

A Philip who didn't know Dean said no.

Was terrified.

Was scared.

"...oh my God. A gun," Evie repeats slowly. Winchester had pulled a gun on Philip, in public, in broad daylight. This has disaster written all over it, in capitalised, bolded letters.

"Was he physically pushing you to the other side?" she asks, trying to stay objective.

In retrospect the scene has lost its bite, at least its set-up no longer scares or terrifies Philip, but the downside of conveniently misplacing your memories is that you also lose their benefits, lose the knowledge of having so much as seen a gun up close (let alone shot one) and lose the resistance of having been threatened by worse than that.

Now those memories are back, of course, and so is a new one of shaking, pale with fear and oh god, oh god, oh god, he is going to kill me.

"Was he what?"

It's not least of all because of that that Philip finds himself at a loss on how to answer, unable to recall much past the feeling of utter dread, paying little attention as to whether he took the steps himself or if it was Dean who pushed him along while holding a gun to his face.

(This fine point, Philip feels, very nearly bears repeating, but perhaps this is going somewhere where the answer actually matters.)

"I don't... I don't think so."

He can't imagine Dean needing to use much additional force. Philip remembers feeling a little queasy at so much as standing up to the unarmed man alone, verbally, just in case the "agent" turned out to be a real agent after all.

And after the threat? It doesn't seem like he would have had much fight in him, not against the odds, not when his friends showed up and he had to worry for their safety as well.

The unspoken question now being: Why do you ask?

Evelyn asks because it is entirely relevant.

"Your side of things is...a man in a place he loves and doesn't want to leave. At the time, Dean must have been startling, probably terrifying."

Evie pauses, wondering if she should word things this way.

...yes. Yes, she should. She's only talked to Dean once - back when Philip had disappeared, she saw his transmission and sought him out. It was about time they met; it was just a pity it couldn't be under brighter circumstances.

Evelyn considers herself a fairly good judge of character, and it's easy to read someone when they've been rubbed so raw that they don't know what to do with themselves.

"...Imagine what it was like for him. Try looking at it from his point of view for a moment. Be Dean Winchester. You've...you've spent your whole life traveling across the United States with your brother, but he isn't here. You probably only have one person in this entire mansion you trust implicitly because of that. That's you, Philip. Imagine caring about someone so much that you have to resort to the worst possible thing just to save their life. That's a huge risk."

One Evelyn knows she isn't strong enough to take.

"At first I only worried about the potential psychological ramifications of the event, but from what I've heard of others, those who stayed, died. I'm not trying to justify his actions by any means, because a gun is rather drastic, but...would you have gone with him otherwise? I know it felt real, and it felt good, but would you have regretted everything out here for more time in there?"

Quite frankly the difference between being shoved through the door violently and being forced to go through it at gunpoint is more than negligible to Philip and the relevance is not something he can see. At all.

What he can see is Evie's justification for it, a look into Dean's mind that would surprise him if she hadn't mentioned their meeting a while ago (at an offscreen point in time that will save us some confusion about the insight on Philip's part).

He can see it all right, but he's far from sure whether it's enough. Especially given one of her questions...

"I can't say, since he didn't even bother trying anything else first."

A beat.

"You didn't think it was necessary to get me out."

And no, that is far, far from an accusation... not against Evelyn at any rate.

Evie listens quietly, hands still folded in her lap, glad that, at least, Philip has yet to go off on Dean about his actions. Where they poor ones? Yes, probably. Resorting to a gun to convince a man who very plainly does not know you isn't the best of plans, but Dean isn't the most tactful person.

Evelyn took the gentler approach - the one she knew would hurt him least. Dragging him away from a place he seemed so content in would only draw his ire, and Philip is one of the last people Evie wants angry with her.

So she let him have his dream, even knowing how much it would preoccupy him when he returned after the event.

"You misunderstand me," she replies, looking down at her fingers. "I wanted nothing more than to persuade you to leave. Doing so would have compromised this, though," Evelyn gestures between them with a sad smile.

"I couldn't bear the thought of taking you away from happiness; no Greenland, no Wonderland...believe me, Philip, I wanted to get you out of there, but how would you have regarded me afterwards? Would there have been relief, or loathing?"

For that, she believes Mr. Winchester is the stronger person, even if he took the risk unconsciously.

The sentiment is appreciated, right up until the point Philip feels he has to take her hand and clarify something with no small amount of urgency:

"Evie, I couldn't loathe you over-- not over anything like that!"

And quite frankly it shocks him a little that she'd even thi--

It's in that moment that his face falls just as his last moments with Dean fall into perspective.

Seeing Dean's side of things did little to deter him from his opinion, but being turned in the direction that allows him a view of the grand scheme of things he suddenly has to realise, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that losing a few days of a beautiful illusion couldn't possibly compare to losing Evie.

...That they can't possibly compare to losing Dean.

"I would be-- I... I was angry, but... but it was just a dream."

She wants to believe him. She wants to believe a lot of things. But Philip had had his old life back. It's difficult to imagine him being anything but cross with her had she done Dean's work. But Evie squeezes the hand in hers, because for once it's him reaching out, instead of the other way around.

The least she can do is be there to help him catch himself before he falls.

"Precisely," she confirms his realisation with a little nod. "It was a dream. And I know it was a very nice one, and I know Wonderland can't compare. But Philip, you- had you stayed, you would have come back so lost."

Lost, distracted, preoccupied with escaping Wonderland, or all of the above.

"I care about you," Evelyn stresses, "And while I know that many people consider this place to be a complete fabrication, it's as real as anything else to me. You're as real as anything else to me."

What was that thing she used to tell Jonathan all the time? If I can see it, and I can touch it, then it's real. Evie rests her other hand on the side of his neck, drawing his gaze.

"You were right to be angry with Dean. But knowing what you know now, would you have traded everything about this place for another day in that dream?"

Edited 2012-03-13 04:45 (UTC)

She is right to question, after all the extent of his initial anger was not just theory, it was right there in plain sight, even if Dean was the only one who had to witness it.

But the way she made it sound to Philip just then was more permanent than that, a state of resentment - of loathing - that would refuse to fade over time and put an end to what two people shared forever.

It's that thought that changed his mind, it's the one he has to hold on to, because everything else still rings a little too hollow in his ears. He would have come back so lost. As if one second in the dream wasn't enough for that...

"No," is his answer when Evie stops speaking, and when he looks up at her that answer true enough... just as long as he doesn't stop to think about it again.

"No, I wouldn't."

Because it was a really, really nice dream...

Let's face it: Evie can't exactly abide the thought of anyone being upset with her for whatever reason if she can do something about it, even if the transgression in question will eventually be forgiven. She'll go out of her way to stick it to society whenever she can back home, but here it's different. Here, the chance is high that some people will disappear out of the blue, and leaving things unsettled because of damnable pride or out of negligence is not an acceptable option.

Evelyn therefore offers a small smile of relief at Philip's reply, because hey, telling any girl that you're okay giving up a pretty awesome dream for them - for your friends, for your own health - is bound to get a positive response.

"You don't have to forgive him," she says, "but know that he only wanted to help."

It's different for Evelyn, having made her way out of a dream that would have never appealed to her in the first place, but she can still imagine A More Perfect World with her parents, and her reluctance to leave would have been just as strong.

"First and foremost, we're your friends," comes the gentle reminder, accompanied by a light kiss on the edge of his mouth, much less tense than before.

He turns his head a little to reciprocate the kiss, briefly.

"I know."

A smile that is needed to emphasise his understanding.

"I know."

But the anger of that moment is long gone and even its traces are no longer as clear as they used to be. For a moment the new perspective felt like a painful kind of surprise, but with that moment gone as well Philip has no pressing emotional impulse left.

...None except for the voice of guilt that is slowly getting louder, reminding Philip that, gosh, how to put this nicely, he may have been... a little too harsh with Dean.

He doesn't even want to think about it right now. He offers an incredulous laugh.

"It's incredible how the good events actually manage to be worse than the bad ones."

Philip shakes his head. As far as talking about the subject goes he'd love to leave it at that...

"I think redefining what counts as good and what counts as bad needs to be taken into some consideration," she remarks gently, because sometimes Philip needs a little reminder that "bad" and "good" are subjective terms and he should really try to count his blessings rather than wallow in the downsides of things.

But yes, this narration agrees with Philip, the subject should probably change.

"They only come once every couple of weeks, though," Evelyn adds with some reassurance, quite willing to distract from the previous topic with something else. "And I'm positively certain that if anything happens to be based off of my memories, it would be dreadfully boring."

Ha.

"I remember that the most numbing thing prior to the Great War was hearing about the RMS Titanic sinking. The telegram came as quite a shock."

Although given that she wasn't really at either of these events, they (fortunately) wouldn't count towards the Mansion's idea of fun.

Oh please, that is Clarence talk. If it kills, maims or traumatises you right away, then it's bad. If it promises a peaceful premise, entertains you and makes your wishes come true and then manages to kill, maim or traumatise you only in the aftermath then it's Wonderland's equivalent of good. See? Very simple.

And very much something he wants to stop thinking about, no matter how seldom it occurs.

Luckily that feat is accomplished neatly when Evelyn's memories come into play. Sometimes it's almost too easy to forget that they live decades apart.

"They made a film about it a few years back, but I can't imagine what it was like then," he muses.

Come to think of it, she might really enjoy that movie...

"If we're lucky your event will just get us a bigger library."

He grins a little.

"Or more sand."

She would have inquired about the film, but something else distracts her. Evie lights up almost immediately, having entertained the thought many more times than once.

"Oh, could you imagine? A crowded casbah and cafes, people- people milling about and shouting and haggling over prices, the Nile on the far edge, filled with traders in their dahabeeyahs, the pyramids across the minarets of the mosque and the last call to prayer after the moon rises..."

She sighs before realising that she's rambled quite a bit more than she meant to, smiling at Philip somewhat apologetically.

"...I'm sorry, I wish I could show you what it's like. After getting used to the heat, you might actually enjoy it," Evelyn laughs quietly.

Philip doesn't mind one bit, because that rambling was just the final distraction he needed from their earlier discussion.

"It's been a while since I've really had the chance to travel, even before Wonderland," he remarks to express his interest.

Before Philip left it for good he was stuck in England for two years straight, his duties at the university not including a stay abroad, his new position not yet offering much time to organise his own either.

Two years. Hardly an eternity, but still... a peripheral reminder that he didn't see as much of the world as he could... as he should have.

"I might get to see it, anyway."

It sounds like a lovely event after all and there are bound to be enough scorpions and crocodiles and such to make it more appealing to the magical mansion.

"What sort of places did you want to see?"

Evie asks curiously, because they've never broached this subject before. Assuming that Greenland was very low on his list of places to visit, if it was there at all (which she doubts), Evelyn would much rather know about the foreign countries that appeal to him. If he ever intended to learn any other languages. The lands he's visited, for however short or long a time.

That, and the change in subject is a nice diversion.

She grins.

"Or should I just get a globe, spin it, and let you point to something?"

"That actually sounds like a plan."

He laughs. Travel is very far from his mind these days, but let's see, there must be some old plans stored in this memory of his.

"Actually, I almost had a ticket to Apollo Bay- er, Australia booked before I went with Greenland instead. Sometimes I can't help but think I didn't make the right call..."

True story: It wasn't difficult for his friends to notice the decline in his mood. It wasn't difficult for them to shower him with helpful (and "helpful") suggestions either. The one about distracting himself with a nice holiday trip almost stuck. But hey, at least he can smile about it. Today.

"America, too. There's so much to see, but I guess it didn't really catch my attention until I got older."

Evelyn has never heard of Apollo Bay, but then again, Australia is still considered 'that place where all the convicts were sent' to a lot of English people in the 1920s. A land of strange animals that lay eggs and have webbed feet and yet somehow, remain mammalian. She's not a biologist, but it's still interesting.

Resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, Evie watches him quietly, and listens.

...and...then...she laughs.

"America, really?"

She expected something a little more exotic, actually, but they've never talked about places they'd like to see when it comes to dream vacations. That, and the only exposure to an American she's had back home is Mister O'Connell, and his impression has been...poor, to say the least.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for that. What do you want to do over there?"

"Probably trying not to get killed by a menagerie of supernatural monsters, if I'm taking Dean's word for it."

No sense in fighting that laugh. It's not where Philip saw himself drawn to either, but it's a thought worth considering. It's a start, one of many destinations he had in mind. It's... standing in the middle of New York and indulging in nothing but the thought that wow. This is big.

...How to answer her seriously Philip may not actually know. It was a rough draft - at best.

"I'm open for suggestions. I can't promise that I'd make it through a Nile cruise, but on dry land I'm all ears."

"Oh, the Nile is very dangerous anyway," she waves a hand. "Hippopotami are deadlier than the crocodiles."

...And there's always the off-chance that men in black might board and set fire to your boat.

"I think you might like to see Abu Simbel," she volunteers. "It's a rock-cut temple complex in Upper Egy- Well. Southern, technically, but the Nile is one of the few rivers in the world that flows North, rather than the other way around. Upper Egypt is the South, and Lower Egypt is the Nor- I suppose I'd better just show you, then."

Evelyn moves to one of the nearest shelves, picking through the provided texts before finding something by a reputable Egyptologist who she knows uses photographs with his illustrations.

"Here," she points out after flipping through a couple of pages and pointing to one in particular, adopting a somewhat-conspiratorial tone of voice.

"Ramesses the Great had it built to intimidate the Nubians. Somewhat similar to Petra...although I don't know if you're familiar with the place itself. T.E. Lawrence defended it from Turks and Germans in 1917, when I was still very young, but I should hope that most of these places are still standing in your year - especially if they've withstood the test of time this long already."

A look of recognition. Not quite on his list of immediate travel plans (if such a thing existed), but certainly the kind of place you keep in mind, at the very least stored away with other scenarios subtitled 'Some great ideas, should you ever have an abundance of time and/or money'.

Philip leans closer, examining the illustrations. Vaguely familiar, just like Petra, a name he guesses he might have heard in some documentary or other. He nods to himself while looking at the book.

'Hey, you wanna hear a funny story 'bout those rose-red rocks? Seriously, you'll be in stitches!'

"Where would you go?"

One last look at the book. A smile. This would be the time you usually make sure to voice your interest in taking the suggested destination to heart, but that seems just a little too much theory for now.

"...Other than Egypt?"

Edited 2012-04-06 00:43 (UTC)

"...um."

It isn't very often that Evelyn considers visiting other countries outside of the usual bunch, due to work and what-have-you, so she actually has to think about this question for a moment. Having toured through much of Northern Africa as a child, she supposes that she ought to at least select a different continent.

Perhaps a place she might actually be able to employ one of the Latin-based languages she's fluent in?

"Italy? France, or...or Spain. I haven't been to any of them, which is a bit of a shame since I spent so much time becoming familiar with their respective tongues."

One of the other draws may be the ridiculous amount of history Evelyn can take in, but shhhhh let's go with practising her foreign languages for the time being. She knows them well enough, but speaking English and Arabic on a daily basis can drown out plenty of other things, or make them rusty.

"Are they still teaching subjects like that in primary school?"

"The languages? In primary...? Um..."

Philip frowns and taps his lips, trying to remember the last thing he heard on the subject. There's been the occasional word from friends and colleagues involving their children, but that's about as far as his involvement gets.

"I'd be lying if I said I was sure. I know I was still taught French at least, but it's been a while."

Oh, but wasn't there a debate once? An encounter with some of the linguists in the hallways they shared, remembered by Philip only on account of their passionate outrage about their country's neglect of foreign language teachings?

"...But from what I remember the offer isn't exactly overwhelming these days, erm... most of it doesn't even start until, uh, the sixth, seventh year or so."

Evelyn really does miss being able to converse with locals in Egypt - she's almost worried that her skills might get a bit rusty. There's nothing quite like genuine practise to keep one's skills sharp.

"Oh? I'll have to test you some time, then," she teases. "Juste pour jouer."

...there's a quiet chirping from under the nearest table, and a russet-coloured feline scampers out. Hadeel begins rubbing against Philip's legs almost immediately.

"...there you are," Evie mumbles, leaning down to scratch the cat behind her ears. "I thought she'd gotten lost in the shelves this morning."

"Oh," he says with an air of dread, remembering all too well the magnificent heights to which one event took his French language skills... and the long fall back into reality that followed.

Languages... were never quite his strength, to put it mildly and it was only thanks to the constant threat of their nearby linguistics department that he learned to do so much as fake some sense of appreciation for them.

(But that will stay right here in the narration, far away from Evie, thank you very much.)

"In that case I should probably--"

OHGODCAT.

"...head back to my room and study up. Hey there."

The hairy little piece of russet gets a smile, but Philip will leave the petting to Evelyn. No ill feelings towards that kitty, oh no, but the mansion has taught Philip another valuable lesson since her appearance: He is apparently not a very enthusiastic cat person.

...He is however starting to appreciate the joys of dog ownership, which reminds him:

"Study up and take Faraday for a walk, I think it's about time."

And one wider smile for Evelyn.

"I'll see you later?"

Evelyn is completely aware that Philip is not a very enthusiastic cat person, because his strained half-smile whenever Hadeel pads by nimbly is evidence enough.

"Oui, j'approuve," she teases, leaning over and giving him a quick kiss. "I'll see you later, sans feline."

The animal can take care of herself well enough, anyway.

certain to tell you, confusion has its cost

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