Blog Entry 001 - Action/Voice

[was_a_soldier]

[John Watson had recently moved out of 221B Baker St. He'd told Mrs. Hudson it was temporary a month prior, and he'd left a few of his things like notes of reassurance that he would return. But for now, he had to live away from the familiar 17 steps and shared space at the end of them. It was a habit he had to break, expecting Sherlock Holmes to come bursting in at any moment with a harpoon or a limb or a poison in hand and a brightness in his eye that was terrifying and fantastic all at once. A habit, like making two cups of tea in the morning or eating quickly expecting to be dragged off at any second on a chase through the city. Unnecessary. 

He convinced himself yesterday he'd only go back for a box he'd left. The one with his thicker jackets and gloves now that it was getting colder. But he'd ended up sitting into the night and contemplating the armchair turned towards his, the box by his feet, forgotten. The flat had been clean, far cleaner then it had been while lived in, no doubt at Mrs. Hudson's hand and Mycroft's penny (though John wanted to spare little time thinking about the elder Holmes). Sherlock wouldn't have stood for it (Mycroft paying, not the free cleaning) and it made something in John's chest fold onto itself.

When John closed his eyes last night, against the ache of the empty chair across from him, he hardly expected to be laying down when he opened them. Nor did he expect to be outside, atop a bridge over a small river, with the afternoon sun high in the sky. John let out a grunt, rolling his head on the wood before forcing himself to sit. And it is only as he sits up that he realizes that his back hurts. His back hurts and nerves sing and extend beyond what he's experienced before, like a phantom limb. 

Oh. Not phantom. Wings, then. Tan and dark brown with speckled white exposed as the feathers shift.

Eventually, the stunned doctor finds the journal by his side, and after briefly skimming through the information at had, he makes a general voice post as he stands, wobbly.]

This is John Watson speaking. 

...I'll admit, this is a tad difficult to wrap the brain around.

Such as suddenly gaining wings without some form of serious cosmetic surgery.

[He clears his throat. There's a shuffle as he shifts his weight, knee stiff, hands steady.]

In any case, more information would be greatly appreciated. I know this place is called Luceti, but why am I here and not in London?

Comments

[Voice]

[the_other_leblanc]

...Doctor John Watson?

[Star Wars and Star Treck and video game characters and experiments that shift around age were common enough- why not one Doctor John Watson? It's sill just strange enough that there's a hint of incredulity in Adele's accented voice.]

[Voice]

[was_a_soldier]

Yes...

[He sounds friendly, but underlaying confusion is obvious in his voice.]

I'm sorry, have we met before?

[Voice]

[the_other_leblanc]

[what was the protocol when it came to discussing the nature of your knowledge with someone that is, to your mind, a fictional character? Adele...didn't have notes for that. Evasion it is.]


...no, but I do know of you. To clarify on your earlier question: Do you mean to ask why it is you are in this enclosure, or why it is you are on this world?

[Voice]

[was_a_soldier]

[Luckily John's still out of sorts from arriving so he doesn't catch onto that first part. He probably wouldn't be able to handle being dubbed a fictional character on top of everything else going on at the moment.]

Both, I guess. Let's start with the enclosure. What's outside where we would have to be locked in here?

[Voice]

[wildbluevagner]

[Here, have a seemingly normal teen with a German accent. ...Who is wondering why this guy is named John Watson.]

My guess? This place must've gotten tired of only taking people from America or Japan.

[Voice]

[was_a_soldier]

Lovely.

[John sighs in frustration.]

And there's no way for me to get home, then, is there?

[Voice]

[wildbluevagner]

We've got geniuses and supermen here, and somehow we're still stuck. So I'm leaning towards no for now. This place just seems to send people back home at random, if anything.

[Voice]

[was_a_soldier]

Well, I'm neither a superman nor a genius, so I can't contribute there.

If you don't mind my asking, how long have you been here?

[250mhzwabl]

[Despite himself, as soon as he hears the name, Jack smiles. Even if being displaced from time and space remains a daily exercise in mild disorientation, there is a strange comfort in hearing one fellow English voice after another, from worlds where autos still run, and where "The Big Smoke" is not universally understood to mean London shortly after the fall of society.]

Ah, now that's the question that gets you nothing but theories. Two weeks in and I still don't have the faintest idea - and as I understand it, two years isn't much better.

[was_a_soldier]

Christ. Two years? People have been here that long?

[John frowns in concern, not even able to imagine what it's like being away from someone's home that long after such an unexpected departure. It's one thing to be deployed to Afghanistan, it's another to be ripped away from your own home and dropped in the middle of nowhere.]

How is that possible? Is there a point to all this or is it just for some strange... I dunno, social experiment?

...Honestly I'm not even sure which would be worse...

[voice], whoops.

[250mhzwabl]

Longer, probably.

[Jack never likes to be the bearer of bad news, but he likes being misleading even less. Sighing, he slouches back and studies the little picture that stands in for his present conversational companion, thinking it looks more than a little familiar. Well, at least they've got the modern one.]

If you've read the little guidebook you know that experiments are a part of it, but the whole ordeal does seem a bit much for just running some tests. All the same, it's . . . liveable, though? Well, you know that for yourself if you've found your way to the village. [Which Jack sincerely hopes he has. It's a bit cold to be running about in just pyjama pants.]

[voice], lol me too xD

[was_a_soldier]

Seems like a whole lot of effort to make in hopes of running a few tests.

[Were Sherlock here, that would have probably sparked a grand assortment of theories, but he wasn't. And so John's slightly suspicious observation and silent thoughts were all that were due. John eventually clears his throat.]

From what I can see it looks decent enough. I'm on a bridge on the outskirts of the village, I think.

I'm... not required to stay dressed like this, am I?

[Action]

[complicatedliar]

[Loki spots the new feather as he's on his way to the Battle Dome, and overhears the transmission.]

You are lucky they left you here rather than in the middle of the woods. Perhaps they like you.

In which case you have my pity.

[Action]

[was_a_soldier]

[John turns to greet the other man, taken a little aback by his subtle otherworldiness, wings aside. Perhaps it was just that he was not used to meeting people from another world, or an unknowning suggestion of Loki's god status in his height and demeanor. But he smiles slightly, if a bit bitterly.]

Despite the possible consequences, I'm glad I didn't have to find my way out of a forest atop everything else that's happened today.

[The doctor shifted his weight, licking his lips.]

If you don't mind my asking, who did you mean by 'they'? The people that brought us here?

[Action]

[complicatedliar]

Our gaolers, the Malnosso. I take it no one has shown you the guide as of yet?

[Loki smiles thinly.] Sorry to say, we're all the playthings of a merry little group of sadists.

[Action]

[was_a_soldier]

You mean the journal? I've looked through it a bit, but I'll admit I haven't had the chance to study it properly.

[John frowns at this, eyes sad from weeks of mourning looking shadowed between pinched eyebrows. His tone when he speaks again is controlled like a good solider and a patient doctor, but still tinged with anger.]

So we're ripped from our own worlds, given wings, branded, and then they do as they please with us? And there's nothing we can do about it?

[spohkh]

[Spock had been making his way to the Dome when he came across a man sitting on the bridge.... ah yes, this must be a 'new feather'.

With a raised eyebrow, Spock approaches.]

Greetings, I am Spock. Are you in need of assistance?

[Action]

[was_a_soldier]

[John looked up from the journal, his wings ruffling in his surprise. He's not on top form at the moment, or his solider training would have probably alerted him to the other man far sooner.]

Hello--

[Wait, did he say Spock? As in Star Trek Spock? As in the Vulcan that he calls Sherlock after when he's being particularly philosophical? John's jaw unhinged slightly. Now that he looked at him, the other man did have the distinctive haircut and ears. This... this was amazing. Unreal, but quite amazing.

John shook his head, dispersing his shocked daze to remember that he was in the middle of introducing himself. The doctor scrambled to his feet, favoring one leg slightly as it's easily gone stiff.]

Mr. Spock. I'm John Watson. I've, ah... just 'arrived,' per say. I don't really have my feet under me quite yet.

Re: [Action]

[spohkh]

[Spock bows his head..]

It is well to make your acquaintance Mister Watson. [Spock notices the limp...]

Are you injured? Do you require medical attention?

[voice]

[all7seas]

Bugger! You're back, John. Dunno why you're here.

[Voice]

[was_a_soldier]

...'Back'? I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I'd remember being here before. Perhaps you're mistaking me for someone else?

[Voice]

[all7seas]

............Nah. Nevermind. You couldn't be THAT John -- the one with the wonky leg and uncanny sense of aim with a firearm.

[Though he is pretty sure this IS that very John: just without any memories of Luceti. It happens. He won't push it.]

[voice]

[not_a_troll]

This is Loki Laufeyson speaking. Your wings are not some form of serious cosmetic surgery. This is also not London. If this would be the great city of London the strong arm of the law would be called a bobby, you see?

[voice]

[was_a_soldier]

...

[John can't help but chuckle a little at the use of 'British slang.']

They could be called that. I work with the police often back home so they're usually just 'officers.' Or 'the fuzz' from Sherlock's Homeless Network's side of things.

[voice]

[not_a_troll]

[Loki knows his British. Just like crumpets, lifts and the act of snogging one another.]

The fuzz? That is a new kind of a Midgardian word of slang I am unfamiliar with. But I do think I prefer bobby.

Ah yes, yes, a man called John Watson should know of a Sherlock Holmes. It is in the books after all. Sherlock Holmes, the great Midgardian detective and solver of heinous crimes.