(Untitled)

[samstewart]

Sam's in the bar again, having once again found it on the other side of DCS Foyle's office door. (The past few times, she'd been more than a little disappointed when she found herself in the police station corridor. Especially when she'd been wanting a cup of Milliways tea more than anything

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[night_hibiscus]

Sam, it should come as no surprise to anyone, is not alone in seeking the solace of a good cup of tea tonight.

The tea Yuna orders, from a spot just a step or two down the bar, is fragrant and bright red; hibiscus tea, from Besaid Island, or a near facsimile. She lingers for a moment, inhaling the clean sweet smell of the steam, and offers a smile and a wave to the other girl.

She's the same age, or a little younger, than Sam, with longish hair and neat braids on only one side of her face--not the same side as the impressive black eye. She's also, apparently, Japanese, and very oddly dressed by almost anyone's standards.

[samstewart]

Sam looks up, blinking a bit, and offers a smile and a slightly tentative wave back. (It's not that she's fearful of foreigners. But she's still getting used to Milliways.)

But the tea that the other girl has is intriguing, to say the least. She's never seen tea that colour before.

'What kind of tea is that?' she asks, leaning over to get a better look at it. It smells quite nice from where she's sitting.

[night_hibiscus]

"Hibiscus?" she says. It's not really a question, but despite the confidence she's gained Yuna's tone of voice defaults to tentative. "It's made from the calyx of the flowers. They grow all through the jungles, where I come from."

There's something halfway between fondness and homesickness, there. "I'm Yuna."

[samstewart]

Sam's knowledge of flowers is quite general, but anything that smells that lovely must be something special.

'Sam Stewart,' she says brightly. 'And...well, I'm from Earth, and it's 1940, and I'm from the town of Hastings in England. Which isn't much to speak of, really, but it's quite nice in its own way.'

From the way she says it, it sounds like she's really hoping that this is the right sort of introduction to make.

[night_hibiscus]

To judge by Yuna's reaction, it certainly is; her smile brightens by a few degrees. "Oh, my friend Lucy--that's where she came from. She was my, my best friend. I think her time was a little after that, though--she'd be just a little girl, where you are."

"My world is called Spira, and the way we count time, I guess it's the year--one thousand? Or close to that. I come from a tiny tropical island called Besaid, but I'm on a journey now."

[samstewart]

Sam nods thoughtfully, considering this.

'What kind of journey? If you don't mind me asking, that is.'

[night_hibiscus]

"I don't mind," she says quickly, "but it's complicated. Um. A religious pilgrimage?" she offers.

It is the kind of religious pilgrimage where you wear elaborate clothes, but also sleep rough and spend all day fighting monsters. And get black eyes.

[samstewart]

And that, Sam understands. The pilgrimage part, not the monster-fighting part.

'I know about pilgrimages,' she replies, grinning a bit. 'My father's a vicar -- a kind of priest. He's never been on a pilgrimage, and I haven't, either, but he taught me all about them when I was younger. I grew up quite near a place where people used to go on pilgrimages, actually.'

[night_hibiscus]

"Oh, yes!" She ratchets up the beam a bit more; it's capable of going all the way to 11. "The Jesus religion. Lucy gave me a cross--"

She produces it, from inside the depths of her sleeves, dangling from the end of a rosary of jet and shell. Each bead is carved with decidedly non-Celtic ruins. "But I don't thinks she ever told me about pilgrimages, in her world. You lived near a Temple?"

This is fascinating new information about Earth.

[samstewart]

'Oh,' Sam breathes, admiringly. 'That's a lovely rosary. We don't use them in my church, but I know they're meant to help with prayer.'

A discussion about the theological differences between Roman Catholics and Anglicans is really more the sort of thing that Rev. Stewart would be suited for. But it helps to introduce the next part of the subject.

'It's called Canterbury. The people who used to use rosaries like that would go there -- a priest was murdered there, quite a long time ago. And they made him a saint, a holy man, and people used to travel for days and even months to visit the church where he died.'

[night_hibiscus]

Her mouth is hanging open, just a touch.

"Is there--" She hears the urgency in her voice, and reins it in. "Is there, singing, there?"

[samstewart]

'Evensong.' She says it automatically. 'Every weekday. And the Sung Eucharist, on Sundays. They're rather formal, far more formal that the services my father does, but I suppose that's only to be expected. It is quite an important church, after all.'

[night_hibiscus]

"A choir," she says after a moment, grasping the situation, and trying to keep disappointment out of her voice. "I'm sorry, for a moment I--misunderstood." She smiles sheepishly.

For a moment, she'd thought wildly of Ray's ideas, of different versions of the same world, and of foreign aeons to use against Sin. A crazy idea.

If it had been what she was imagining, Sam would've know what she was talking about.

[samstewart]

Sam looks puzzled for a moment, but puzzlement quickly gives way to an understanding smile.

'That's all right,' she says, and then figures that a slight change in subject might be better. 'What's a pilgrimage like, in your world?'

[night_hibiscus]

"It's a long journey," she says, "across the whole world. But it's a pretty small world, compared to Earth."

Privately, she thinks of Earth as ridiculously large, but.

"And--dangerous. I have Guardians who travel with me, though."

[samstewart]

'Dangerous?' Sam blinks. 'You mean, people would try to hurt you on a pilgrimage?'