Crackplot: When Canon Goes Wild

[notwocouches]

The Mansion has a library, which, as we know, possibly rivals the Unseen University's for content if not for size. A lot of books, basically; a lot of stories. And some stories, because this sometimes happens, have gathered different versions of themselves over time. Which wouldn't normally pose a problem, except now the room's been tampered with.

Comments

[originaldrew]

For someone with conflicting canons as confusing as Nancy's it was bound to happen. Gone is the blonde, chic, gun-toting, independant Nancy of the thirties. In her place is the ginger, utterly perfect, coordinating Nancy from the revised editions. She smoothes her green belted sundress with matching pumps, gloves, hat and knitting bag and looks around.

"I do think I need someone to tell me where I am," she says. A strapping, handsome, male someone would be especially welcome.

[illgotten]

"You and me both," crossly, not quite paying attention.

[originaldrew]

He'll do.

"Can you at least tell me if this is Chicago?"

[illgotten]

"Not last I checked," he says offhandedly, and then wishes he hadn't. He looks at her again, sidelong.

[originaldrew]

She places one demurely gloved hand on her hip. "Where was it the last time you checked?"

[illgotten]

Now it's a level stare. "Philadelphia. Of course, the last I checked it wasn't the 1940s either, so what do I know."

[originaldrew]

"It isn't the fourties. This is the sixties."

[illgotten]

"Getting closer. Jesus, what is with people today?"

(We'll apologize for his language in advance, Nancy. He's even worse than usual.)

[originaldrew]

"Well, I don't know what you're talking about." She decides to go the polite route in the hopes that it may do something. "I'm Nancy Drew." She holds out a hand.

[illgotten]

He's halfway to taking it before that registers, and he laughs, on an edge. "Oh, of course. Of course you are."

[originaldrew]

"Oh! You must have heard of me in Philadelphia, then! I don't remember solving any cases there but any publicity is good publicity I suppose."

[illgotten]

"Yeah," dryly, "something like that."

[originaldrew]

She kept her hand out. "And you are...?"

[illgotten]

Well, fine, if she's going to be that way-- "Mordred of Orkney," he says even more dryly, "son of Morgause. Officially."

[originaldrew]

One of the hallmarks of this Nancy is her insane amount of knowledge on every possible subject. "Son of King Arthur, brother of Gareth, Gawain and the others, and all that? Not to seem rude, but you're younger than I expected."

[illgotten]

"Oh, well, you know how it is. Plastic surgery's come a long way since the Dark Ages."

This is really rather weirding him out, given that this edition of Mordred is in fact reincarnated as an average Pennsylvanian, who just happens to be too snarky for his own good.