(Untitled)

[soaccomplished]

[OOM: Sometimes the best way to find something is to not look for it at all.]The front door swings open abruptly, and a slight female figure passes through. Her attire is perhaps unusual to some, being a high-waisted formal gown detailed with elaborate embroidery, but Georgiana Darcy is certainly not the first to enter Milliways dressed in this way

Comments

[balletrat]

*- well. Meg's been in Milliways long enough to recognize that look, at least.*

- pardonnez-moi, but - I'm guessing you haven't been here before?

[soaccomplished]

If Georgiana looked surprised before, she now appears completely befuddled. So befuddled, she actually looks directly into Meg's face.

"I... I am in France?" she stammers, before collecting herself somewhat. 'Collecting herself' translates into 'inspecting something else that is clearly not Meg.' "That is to say, no, I-I have not been here before. I do not believe so, anyway."

[balletrat]

Oh - non, *Meg assures her hastily, and meanwhile does her best to look harmless and unthreatening.

It's not hard, when she only just brushes five feet.*

You're not in France, just talking to a French girl - and as for the rest - er, would you like to sit down?

[soaccomplished]

That news is a profound relief to poor Georgiana. She might only be a little insane, if this is the case.

As it happens, Georgiana would like to sit down, but she has always been horrible with social situations, and oh, why is she here, but then Meg does not appear so very terrifying (although still a little bit so, perhaps), so it might be well for her to sit.

"I think I would, yes," she answers quietly, looking somewhere in the vicinity of Meg's collar. "Al-although I have been quite rude, and have not even introduced myself. Pray forgive me. My name is Georgiana Darcy."

Yes, she curtseys. Even when possibly losing her mind, she does not entirely lose her manners.

[balletrat]

*It's been a while since Meg talked to anyone from anything approaching her own time period; her own curtsey is a little belated, and probably a little more theatrical than Georgiana's used to, but gracefully done for all that.*

I'm Marguerite Giry - Meg, really, is what everyone calls me.

*She straightens and gestures to the closest booth, with an encouraging smile.*

[soaccomplished]

"Meg," Georgiana repeats with the air of one determined to commit the name to memory, but not certain that she'll actually be able to manage that. "I am pleased to meet you, Meg."

She dares to look directly at Meg (glancing downward, since Georgiana is really rather tall in comparison) and return the smile uncertainly before making her way over to the designated booth.

"If this is not France..."

[balletrat]

Pleased to meet you, too, bien sur, *Meg says, and pauses; she had rather hoped to get Georgiana sitting down before going into those specifics.

She takes a breath, and then slides into the booth across from the taller girl.*

Eh bien. This is the part that's going to sound sort of - a little unnerving?

This - isn't France, oui, and it's not England either. When you walked through that door - well, you're not actually on Earth at all anymore.

[soaccomplished]

"..."

Georgiana had feared it, and so it had come to be. The argument with her brother must have pushed her over the edge, and she had quite lost her mind. She only hoped that she would not be sent to an asylum when her brother learned what had become of her, although given the mood he had been in when last they spoke, that was a very good possibility.

"...?"

If silence could sound like a question, Georgiana's is managing it very well right now.

[balletrat]

*Rather ruefully:* I said it was a little unnerving - I don't really know how it works, exactly; the best way is just to say it's magic, I guess.

*She hesitates.*

It's - I mean, you're probably not used to this sort of thing. Most people aren't, when they first come.

[soaccomplished]

Words are not Georgiana's friends at the moment. After another rather awkward bout of silence, however, she quite aggressively forces them into making her acquaintance.

"...I cannot say I have ever been in a place such as this in my whole life," is what finally comes out. "And I cannot say that I have ever left Earth. Or encountered magic outside of a book of fairy tales."

It is quite astonishing how her speech becomes less halting when she is preoccupied. Thinking one is insane, however, is indeed very distracting.

[balletrat]

*A quick grin.*

I'm not sure there is another place such as this - at least, I've never heard of another one. Not even in fairy tales.

- it is real, though. I mean, it seems totalement fou, I know, but it is.

*She glances at Georgiana; and, with an inward wince for her own personal beverage scruples:*

You probably need a cup of tea right now.

[soaccomplished]

"Well, I meant to refer to a tavern," Georgiana hastily corrects herself, a blush creeping into her cheeks. "At least, that is how it appears, or how I imagined one should appear."

Tea. Finally, something Georgiana can understand. Unless not-Earth tea is different from Earth tea, tea is tea. Except when not-Earth tea is different from Earth tea, most likely. Because then it would not be. Tea, that is.

She has a mild headache now.

"I do not believe anything could sound better at the moment," she answers fervently. "How does one go about acquiring any such thing here?"

[balletrat]

*Meg looks a little sheepish herself.*

- that's right, a tavern, you wouldn't have been in one, would you - this one isn't exactly like any of the others, though, so don't even worry about it -

*. . . waitrats, Meg decides, are probably a concept beyond Georgiana at the moment.*

Getting a drink isn't difficult, *she assures her.* And one good thing about this place, at least, is that the first drink is always free - here, come with me, I'll show you how.

[soaccomplished]

Meg has excellent discretion. Waitrats might just make Georgiana's head explode. Or something else similarly unseemly, considering that Georgiana has not likely heard that particular expression.

"I have money..." Georgiana trails off. "But then, I hardly know what currency this place deals in. Something very different, I imagine."

Her blush deepens. "But I am sorry. You likely are not interested in such as that. Please, show me what you would."

[balletrat]

*Meg laughs.*

Oh, I've wondered about that, too, croyez-moi - it pretty much seems to take whatever anyone gives it, though, from what I've seen. Which makes doing business with other people in here tricky, but, well - you'll see.

*She sets off on a complicated path through tables, chairs, and other patrons, glancing back every other second to see whether Georgiana's having trouble, before they end up in front of the bar.*

All right - this is the bar. You can get pretty much anything from here, as long as you ask. For example - bar, s'il te plait, might I have a cup of coffee?

*The coffee appears, right on cue, and Meg glances at Georgiana to see her reaction.*

[soaccomplished]

Georgiana wends her way through the bar, close behind Meg. She is very grateful for the tour guide, as it were, because she should certainly never find her way back otherwise. She nearly expects to encounter a minotaur at any moment, the place seems so much like a labyrinth.

No amount of explanation, however, could have prepared Georgiana for a cup of coffee simply appearing out of thin air.

Astonished, she gapes at it for a moment, then prods the cup with a wary finger, testing it for reality.

"It is... it is real!"