Joscelin stands from where he landed on the ground, surveying the frozen clearing with blue eyes just as cold. He doesn't see the person he's looking for-- just a mismatched group of strange folk, almost as strange as the clearing he's found himself in.
His priority isn't the place, or the other people in it. He was with Phèdre-- just leaving her, truly-- in their garden in Montreve.
And now he was in some frozen wood. Was this a bad dream? But dream or no, he had to find her. He chose his words carefully, speaking clearly and crisply. "Should one of you know where my lady Phèdre nó Delaunay is, I suggest you tell me directly."
The last time Meredith found herself in a bizarre near-death hallucination, she was just... sitting there. This time, she wakes with a start, and then a gasp as the cold hits her through her scrubs. Why is it that she managed to hallucinate herself with appropriate clothing in her dream-hospital, but when it actually matters...
And this hallucination is much stranger than her imaginary Seattle Grace, and none of the people ones she recognizes. I drowned. This is... random neurons firing in my brain before I- She can't even finish the thought. She stopped swimming, but that doesn't mean she- This is probably a bad sign.
Pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees, she stares at the man who just spoke. Denny and the others, she could more or less figure out why they were there in her hallucination. This guy... This guy has a sword. Not to mention the spooky statue over there... What is wrong with her brain?
"What?" she asks flatly, clearly lacking any clue as to what he's talking about.
Joscelin eyes the woman who responded, assessing her briefly. She didn't look like a threat-- in fact, she looked as confused as he was. Was it possible that she'd been taken as well? No matter. He couldn't afford to be hasty here, not when he was outnumbered and he had no idea where Phèdre was.
His tone was slightly milder when he repeated his question. "I said that if you know where my lady Phèdre nó Delaunay is, you should tell me directly. I think, however, that perhaps you do not."
Meredith doesn't much feel like standing up, but the frost on the ground is sinking through her scrubs, and after a moment she winces and pushes herself upright. Her limbs feel stiff and awkward, which isn't surprising considering she was just unconscious on the freezing ground.
"No. Sorry, I don't know anyone with that name. I'm M-Meredith. Meredith Grey. I was kind of hoping you'd know better than me what's going on here." Where's the ghost of Denny Duquette when you need him?
She looks as confused as Joscelin feels. He nods, slightly, eyeing her. Her thin clothes-- breeches? on a woman?-- don't look anywhere near warm enough. If he had something to offer, he would, but as it is the chill is soaking through his thin summer clothes as well.
"I'm afraid I don't. We seem to have been kidnapped-- but this is nowhere in Terre d'Ange that I know. My name is Joscelin Verreuil." That last is accompanied by a graceful bow, his arms crossed over his chest.
Meredith just sort of stares at him for a moment as he bows, a little bemused. Under the circumstances, the formality seems faintly ridiculous, but if it makes him feel better about the whole 'stranded in a creepy forest' thing, she's not going to question it.
"Well, I've never even heard of Terre d'Ange. I'm from Seattle, and... okay, it's pretty much surrounded by wilderness, but not like this. I don't think." She's not really a wilderness person, okay? Spending the night in Derek's trailer out in his woods was about the closest she'd gotten to wilderness in a long time, before this.
"A lady?" Oh Della, so very British - so very obsessed with class. She still hasn't taken her arms away from her torso (seriously, does she even have ribs?) but she's looking a lot less cautious and a lot more interested now. Forgive her - she's always had rather a lot of dreams about ladies and lords.
Cautiously she takes a step forwards - and then halts, smiling fairly awkwardly, "...Um, I don't know where she is. But she has a nice name?"
"The Comtesse of Montreve," he responds, watching the girl come a little closer. She didn't look to be a threat, but in such a strange place, he thinks it's best to be cautious. "I'm her bodyguard."
And more-- or at least, he was more. He's not sure what he is anymore. He's going to leave that out for now. "She has an ill-luck name, as she likes to say. It seems to still be exerting its influence here."
"Ah," Della nods, and doesn't add that she's never heard of Montreve, or that he doesn't seem to have a gun. She has no business asking. And besides, hasn't Wolfie taught her that guns only get in the way most of the time?
...Unless they contain silver, in which case running is better than casual disregard.
She does have to ask one thing though, even if she looks terribly awkward asking it, "but you're the one who got taken here, um, how can her name influence your fate?"
Joscelin's never even heard of guns. He's found that the daggers at his belt and sword at his back are equal to most threats, though. Not that he's had to face vampires before.
There are going to be a lot of new things here for him.
He shrugs, looking torn between annoyed and faintly amused. "If I was taken, then my lady must be here as well. I am of no interest to anyone-- Phèdre is the heroine. I am simply her guard."
Which is a deep understatement, but if he can keep himself out of the spotlight it will be much better for him. He doesn't want attention, either positive or negative.
"Oh," Della says, and her tone is perfectly understanding - she's pretty used to standing in the background too; not so willingly lately but... No, she is powerless, she is nothing - hasn't she been taught that enough times already?
"Well," she continues, blushing slightly at her daring - she hasn't ever said this many words to somebody older than her before, "I'm not important either - but I'm still here... Um, have you seen anybody called Wolfie?"
It's worth a try, perhaps if he's seen Wolfie things will start making sense - and Della likes sense.
Joscelin wouldn't say he is nothing, but it's the role of a Cassiline to quietly blend in, become a part of the scenery-- until a threat manifests. Being a hero, as some in the kingdom regard him, is rather uncomfortable for him.
He frowns as the girl speaks, thinking of anyone he's seen-- Wolfie is a very strange name. He'd remember it if he'd ever seen someone with that name, though he doesn't know the names of anyone about them yet.
"I don't know anyone's name. Can you tell me what he looks like?"
Della, unfortunately, is rather bad at believing that she's anything. But that's natural really, sometimes she has problems with existing, guilt and being a vampire - Della has problems with a lot of things.
"Um, okay," Della nods, trying not to deflate - surely if Wolfie was there this man would instantly know him... But no, sometimes Wolfie can be secretive; she shan't start panicking quite yet. "He's sort of like a rock star? Y'know, long, blonde hair, big bushy eyebrows, quite tall?"
And then she, in an odd fit of helpfulness, smiles awkwardly and lifts a shoulder, "oh, and I'm Della, hi."
"Rock... star?" He has no idea what she's talking about. He shakes his head. "No, I've never seen anyone like that."
He bows at her introduction, arms crossed over his chest. "My name is Joscelin Verreuil, at your service."
The girl-- Della-- looks far too young to be involved in any sort of intrigue, though Phèdre must have been that young when Delaunay began using her in his schemes. It's too bad that she's been kidnapped with them-- and why?
"Okay," Della wilts, just a little - she's sure that this man would know Wolfie if he saw him... But then, this man would probably be dead if he'd seen Wolfie.
So that means... Well, a thought she isn't quite prepared for yet - she isn't sure what she'll do without Wolfie and she's pretty sure that she doesn't care to find out.
"Oh, um, thank you," And now Della is blushing - she's never had people bow to her before. And she really is very young, and not very mature to go along with it - some seventeen year olds have earned the right to be referred to as almost adults; Della, through little fault of her own, isn't quite at that stage yet.
...Nor quite at the serving stage yet, thus the blush. "Uh, I'm not really worth serving though, really."
But, before she can make a utter fool of herself, the conversation turns back to Wolfie - and now she might as well have stars in her eyes, "Oh, very prominent, yes - and terribly heroic. He's fought in many battles."
His priority isn't the place, or the other people in it. He was with Phèdre-- just leaving her, truly-- in their garden in Montreve.
And now he was in some frozen wood. Was this a bad dream? But dream or no, he had to find her. He chose his words carefully, speaking clearly and crisply. "Should one of you know where my lady Phèdre nó Delaunay is, I suggest you tell me directly."
Reply
And this hallucination is much stranger than her imaginary Seattle Grace, and none of the people ones she recognizes. I drowned. This is... random neurons firing in my brain before I- She can't even finish the thought. She stopped swimming, but that doesn't mean she- This is probably a bad sign.
Pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees, she stares at the man who just spoke. Denny and the others, she could more or less figure out why they were there in her hallucination. This guy... This guy has a sword. Not to mention the spooky statue over there... What is wrong with her brain?
"What?" she asks flatly, clearly lacking any clue as to what he's talking about.
Reply
His tone was slightly milder when he repeated his question. "I said that if you know where my lady Phèdre nó Delaunay is, you should tell me directly. I think, however, that perhaps you do not."
Reply
"No. Sorry, I don't know anyone with that name. I'm M-Meredith. Meredith Grey. I was kind of hoping you'd know better than me what's going on here." Where's the ghost of Denny Duquette when you need him?
Reply
"I'm afraid I don't. We seem to have been kidnapped-- but this is nowhere in Terre d'Ange that I know. My name is Joscelin Verreuil." That last is accompanied by a graceful bow, his arms crossed over his chest.
Reply
"Well, I've never even heard of Terre d'Ange. I'm from Seattle, and... okay, it's pretty much surrounded by wilderness, but not like this. I don't think." She's not really a wilderness person, okay? Spending the night in Derek's trailer out in his woods was about the closest she'd gotten to wilderness in a long time, before this.
Reply
Cautiously she takes a step forwards - and then halts, smiling fairly awkwardly, "...Um, I don't know where she is. But she has a nice name?"
Yes, because that really helps.
Reply
And more-- or at least, he was more. He's not sure what he is anymore. He's going to leave that out for now. "She has an ill-luck name, as she likes to say. It seems to still be exerting its influence here."
Reply
...Unless they contain silver, in which case running is better than casual disregard.
She does have to ask one thing though, even if she looks terribly awkward asking it, "but you're the one who got taken here, um, how can her name influence your fate?"
Reply
There are going to be a lot of new things here for him.
He shrugs, looking torn between annoyed and faintly amused. "If I was taken, then my lady must be here as well. I am of no interest to anyone-- Phèdre is the heroine. I am simply her guard."
Which is a deep understatement, but if he can keep himself out of the spotlight it will be much better for him. He doesn't want attention, either positive or negative.
Reply
"Well," she continues, blushing slightly at her daring - she hasn't ever said this many words to somebody older than her before, "I'm not important either - but I'm still here... Um, have you seen anybody called Wolfie?"
It's worth a try, perhaps if he's seen Wolfie things will start making sense - and Della likes sense.
Reply
He frowns as the girl speaks, thinking of anyone he's seen-- Wolfie is a very strange name. He'd remember it if he'd ever seen someone with that name, though he doesn't know the names of anyone about them yet.
"I don't know anyone's name. Can you tell me what he looks like?"
That would be marginally more helpful, at least.
Reply
"Um, okay," Della nods, trying not to deflate - surely if Wolfie was there this man would instantly know him... But no, sometimes Wolfie can be secretive; she shan't start panicking quite yet. "He's sort of like a rock star? Y'know, long, blonde hair, big bushy eyebrows, quite tall?"
And then she, in an odd fit of helpfulness, smiles awkwardly and lifts a shoulder, "oh, and I'm Della, hi."
Reply
He bows at her introduction, arms crossed over his chest. "My name is Joscelin Verreuil, at your service."
The girl-- Della-- looks far too young to be involved in any sort of intrigue, though Phèdre must have been that young when Delaunay began using her in his schemes. It's too bad that she's been kidnapped with them-- and why?
"Was this Wolfie... prominent? Or heroic?"
Reply
So that means... Well, a thought she isn't quite prepared for yet - she isn't sure what she'll do without Wolfie and she's pretty sure that she doesn't care to find out.
"Oh, um, thank you," And now Della is blushing - she's never had people bow to her before. And she really is very young, and not very mature to go along with it - some seventeen year olds have earned the right to be referred to as almost adults; Della, through little fault of her own, isn't quite at that stage yet.
...Nor quite at the serving stage yet, thus the blush. "Uh, I'm not really worth serving though, really."
But, before she can make a utter fool of herself, the conversation turns back to Wolfie - and now she might as well have stars in her eyes, "Oh, very prominent, yes - and terribly heroic. He's fought in many battles."
Reply
Leave a comment