Spencer was not outside. In fact, he was so sure that he wasn't outside that, when the sun hit his eyes, it took him a moment to realize that it wasn't in his mind
( Read more... )
Also at Navy Pier is Alfred Pennyworth. Despite the time of year and the temperature that accompanies the season, he is dressed in a full suit, and it is impeccable.
He's not terribly surprised to see someone appear out of thin air, quite honestly. He's been in Chicago nearly a year, after all. It's something one comes to expect.
He approaches slowly and cautiously, the expression on his face one of concern. The young man's hands appear to be shaking, he notices.
"Do you need help, Sir?" Alfred will help however he can. Of course.
He looks up when spoken to, his eyes locking on the man approaching. Steadying his hands, he tries to smile.
"Actually<" he starts. "Help would be great. I'm not sure if you were looking in my direction but I wasn't here a moment ago." He pauses, considering the wording of that statement and then tries again.
"I'm lost, do you think you could maybe tell me where exactly I am?"
Alfred notes the attempt at a smile, and returns the effort.
"You're in Chicago, Sir, at Navy Pier." There's a brief pause before he continues. "Also, you're quite right. You were not here a moment ago. This city has a rift. It pulls people through time and space to here. It's an entirely different world, quite likely."
Alfred takes a deep breath. He's not quite sure what the man's reaction will be. "I'm terribly sorry." There's simply no way to make this truth something easier or simpler. It is what it is.
Alfred will not blame Spencer for thinking him to be mentally ill. It's an awkward situation, at best.
His smile is apologetic and laced with no small amount of sadness. He's not fond of being the bearer of bad news, particularly this bad news.
"It's all rather difficult to believe, I know. However -" Alfred looks around for a moment, his eyes lingering on the rather tall buildings. "There is a place for Wanderers to go. A safe place," he says quietly. It's best to remain calm during such an explanation, he feels. "That's what we're called, Sir, those who are pulled through the rift. Wanderers."
Hoping to put him at ease a bit, he feels introductions are in order. "I am Alfred Pennyworth."
He takes everything in carefully, letting his mind process and sort the information into a neat order. This is how he's getting though this...whatever it is. Breaking down what he knows and what he learns, sorting it and analyzing each piece of information before moving onto the next.
It's a comforting act and, at the moment, keeping him calm.
"Wanderer," he repeats, trying the word out and figuring out what he thinks of the term. If what the man is true it seems an apt name.
Then something strikes him, something very important and very odd all at once.
The name, he knows the name.
He extends his hand, smiling a little brighter than he probably should. "Its a pleasure," he says. "Dr. R--Er, Spencer. I'm Spencer."
Clearly he is dreaming. That is his new theory until he has gathered enough evidence to prove otherwise.
"You said there was a place for us?" He's curious see how far his mind is going to take this and he's prepared to note any other abnormalities that crop up along the way.
Alfred has been nodding as Spencer speaks and when he extends his hand, Alfred shakes it politely. "Despite the circumstances, it is very nice to meet you, Spencer."
He can imagine how very strange this must seem. He recalls his arrival to Chicago, and he was lucky enough to be found by Rachel immediately. Alfred will attribute that brighter smile to being yanked from his universe and dropped into Chicago. He doesn't think any reaction would be wrong, considering how shocking such a thing is.
At the question, Alfred turns slightly in the general direction of the Kashtta. "Yes, Sir. I will be happy to show you the way and answer any questions you have."
Alfred is no rift-expert, certainly, but anything he can answer, he will. He'll start off in the direction of the tower once he's sure Spencer is walking with him.
Whether this is a dream or some very peculiar circumstances, Spencer really is grateful for Alfred's demeanor. It's a calming presence and, on the off chance that somehow this is reality, almost a comfort as well.
"Thank you very much," he replies and his gratitude is sincere. "Really, I appreciate this a lot. I really have no idea what I should be doing ight now. It's not like this sort of thing happens very often, despite what some may claim."
Though a part of him wonders now. A tiny corner of his ind goes over every missing person he can recall that never had an explanation and entertains the thought that maybe, just maybe something like this might have happened.
Then he laughs, more to himself than anything and shakes his head. A dream, he reinds himself. It's all an odd dream he's having and nothing more.
"You're quite welcome," Alfred replies, smiling at Spencer, though it's a tad rueful. These circumstances are simply so beyond-the-norm. Alfred is realistic. He knows wishing for things accomplishes nothing; it is actions that reflect where one's life moves.
However, he finds himself wishing that people were not taken from what is familiar, that things were simpler for them. Beyond wishing, of course, there is hope that they find the strength to survive in spite of everything wishing lacks in giving.
"I don't think there is any proper reaction to this," he says quietly. "It's an unique situation
( ... )
He'll probably have similar feelings when he stops being in denial. For now he's consoling himself with the simple fact that he will wake eventually and then this odd, odd experience will end. Not that it's been terrible, just not his normal dream pattern
( ... )
He shakes his head at the apology and offers a reassuring smile. "Actually, it's not very common, but it has happened. My very good friend, Rachel, was pulled here prior to my arrival."
As they walk, the Kashtta comes into view, though it's still a ways off. Alfred points it out to show him they're not all that far. When Alfred arrived, after all, he was grateful to find somewhere to rest, to find a spot to call his own even in the face of everything unfamiliar.
"The journals seem to be linked," he replies. "When someone in the community writes an entry, it will automatically show up in your journal. Likewise, if you write something, it will show up in everyone elses'. Of course, you may lock entries, should you wish to write something private or share it with only one individual and so forth
( ... )
He doesn't think he's going to have the luxury of running into anyone he knows here. After all, if one of them had unexpectedly gone missing, he's fairly sure he would have noticed it by now.
Then he realizes how he's thinking of things, in the logical patters of the real world, and chides himself, though with each passing minute, he's fining it harder to keep deluding himself.
He walks in silence, turning the situation over in his mind. Everything around him seems painfully normal beyond the obvious issues. The city around them feels just like any other, the laws that his own world obeys seem to, at least for the most part, hold true here.
But...
Alfred speaks, pointing out the Kashtta to him and he looks up, studying the building and then looking to Alfred. S
He means to say something else, make a comment about the journals or maybe thank him for being so helpful. All the words stick in his throat though and it's only after a few minutes that he finally does talk.
"This isn't...It's not some kind of a dream, is it?"
When he's silent, Alfred keeps the silence, simply walking and allowing the other man time and space for his own thoughts.
'This isn't...It's not some kind of a dream, is it?'
At his question, Alfred shakes his head slowly. "I'm afraid not, Sir."
He need not worry about thanking Alfred; the man isn't worried about such things. He's only worried about making sure he finds somewhere safe, somewhere he can have some time to process what's happened.
As they approach the Kashtta, Alfred walks forward, getting the door for him. He'll help procure him a keycard for a room of his own, as well.
He swallows hard at he answer, his pace slowing to a near stop. Everything seems to burst into full color, the bustling city, the man before him. All of this was suddenly painfully real and it leaves him momentarily unsteady on his feet.
What was he going to do?
Actually, it seems he already knows the answer to that question. He's going to go with Alfred, get settled into this place and..Well, after that he doesn't know.
"Thank you" He can't think of anything else to say, despite his best efforts. "Thank you for helping me."
He's not terribly surprised to see someone appear out of thin air, quite honestly. He's been in Chicago nearly a year, after all. It's something one comes to expect.
He approaches slowly and cautiously, the expression on his face one of concern. The young man's hands appear to be shaking, he notices.
"Do you need help, Sir?" Alfred will help however he can. Of course.
Reply
"Actually<" he starts. "Help would be great. I'm not sure if you were looking in my direction but I wasn't here a moment ago." He pauses, considering the wording of that statement and then tries again.
"I'm lost, do you think you could maybe tell me where exactly I am?"
Reply
"You're in Chicago, Sir, at Navy Pier." There's a brief pause before he continues. "Also, you're quite right. You were not here a moment ago. This city has a rift. It pulls people through time and space to here. It's an entirely different world, quite likely."
Alfred takes a deep breath. He's not quite sure what the man's reaction will be. "I'm terribly sorry." There's simply no way to make this truth something easier or simpler. It is what it is.
Reply
Excuse me?" He's not really sure what else to say because well, what do you say to something like that?
Silently, he's estimating the possibility that he's picked someone with mental illness, despite his surroundings telling him otherwise.
Mental illness? Much easier to deal with than some kind of dimension hopping. At least right now.
Reply
His smile is apologetic and laced with no small amount of sadness. He's not fond of being the bearer of bad news, particularly this bad news.
"It's all rather difficult to believe, I know. However -" Alfred looks around for a moment, his eyes lingering on the rather tall buildings. "There is a place for Wanderers to go. A safe place," he says quietly. It's best to remain calm during such an explanation, he feels. "That's what we're called, Sir, those who are pulled through the rift. Wanderers."
Hoping to put him at ease a bit, he feels introductions are in order. "I am Alfred Pennyworth."
Reply
It's a comforting act and, at the moment, keeping him calm.
"Wanderer," he repeats, trying the word out and figuring out what he thinks of the term. If what the man is true it seems an apt name.
Then something strikes him, something very important and very odd all at once.
The name, he knows the name.
He extends his hand, smiling a little brighter than he probably should. "Its a pleasure," he says. "Dr. R--Er, Spencer. I'm Spencer."
Clearly he is dreaming. That is his new theory until he has gathered enough evidence to prove otherwise.
"You said there was a place for us?" He's curious see how far his mind is going to take this and he's prepared to note any other abnormalities that crop up along the way.
Reply
He can imagine how very strange this must seem. He recalls his arrival to Chicago, and he was lucky enough to be found by Rachel immediately. Alfred will attribute that brighter smile to being yanked from his universe and dropped into Chicago. He doesn't think any reaction would be wrong, considering how shocking such a thing is.
At the question, Alfred turns slightly in the general direction of the Kashtta. "Yes, Sir. I will be happy to show you the way and answer any questions you have."
Alfred is no rift-expert, certainly, but anything he can answer, he will. He'll start off in the direction of the tower once he's sure Spencer is walking with him.
Reply
"Thank you very much," he replies and his gratitude is sincere. "Really, I appreciate this a lot. I really have no idea what I should be doing ight now. It's not like this sort of thing happens very often, despite what some may claim."
Though a part of him wonders now. A tiny corner of his ind goes over every missing person he can recall that never had an explanation and entertains the thought that maybe, just maybe something like this might have happened.
Then he laughs, more to himself than anything and shakes his head. A dream, he reinds himself. It's all an odd dream he's having and nothing more.
Reply
However, he finds himself wishing that people were not taken from what is familiar, that things were simpler for them. Beyond wishing, of course, there is hope that they find the strength to survive in spite of everything wishing lacks in giving.
"I don't think there is any proper reaction to this," he says quietly. "It's an unique situation ( ... )
Reply
Reply
As they walk, the Kashtta comes into view, though it's still a ways off. Alfred points it out to show him they're not all that far. When Alfred arrived, after all, he was grateful to find somewhere to rest, to find a spot to call his own even in the face of everything unfamiliar.
"The journals seem to be linked," he replies. "When someone in the community writes an entry, it will automatically show up in your journal. Likewise, if you write something, it will show up in everyone elses'. Of course, you may lock entries, should you wish to write something private or share it with only one individual and so forth ( ... )
Reply
Then he realizes how he's thinking of things, in the logical patters of the real world, and chides himself, though with each passing minute, he's fining it harder to keep deluding himself.
He walks in silence, turning the situation over in his mind. Everything around him seems painfully normal beyond the obvious issues. The city around them feels just like any other, the laws that his own world obeys seem to, at least for the most part, hold true here.
But...
Alfred speaks, pointing out the Kashtta to him and he looks up, studying the building and then looking to Alfred. S
He means to say something else, make a comment about the journals or maybe thank him for being so helpful. All the words stick in his throat though and it's only after a few minutes that he finally does talk.
"This isn't...It's not some kind of a dream, is it?"
Reply
'This isn't...It's not some kind of a dream, is it?'
At his question, Alfred shakes his head slowly. "I'm afraid not, Sir."
He need not worry about thanking Alfred; the man isn't worried about such things. He's only worried about making sure he finds somewhere safe, somewhere he can have some time to process what's happened.
As they approach the Kashtta, Alfred walks forward, getting the door for him. He'll help procure him a keycard for a room of his own, as well.
Reply
What was he going to do?
Actually, it seems he already knows the answer to that question. He's going to go with Alfred, get settled into this place and..Well, after that he doesn't know.
"Thank you" He can't think of anything else to say, despite his best efforts. "Thank you for helping me."
Reply
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