(Untitled)

[thegooddrjones]

Who: Martha Snape-Jones and you.
Where: All over Paris, with some suggestions/closed threads tossed in.
When: All weekend
Warnings: Probably not.
Notes: Old and new CR welcome! New CR makes me happy!

Comments

Thursday afternoon

[thegooddrjones]

Shopping! All the shopping, random places pick one.

some... shop...

[buildindreemz]

Ariadne liked scarves. All kinds of scarves, but up until now, she'd always been limited by budgetary considerations.

No more. Now, she was in one of the more high-class shops, scrounging around through reams of brightly-colored neck accessories, rather in Heaven.

When she spotted Martha, she smiled and waved a garishly-patterned green one in her direction. "Hey! Having fun?"

[thegooddrjones]

Martha liked scarves as well, even if she didn't often get to wear them. They tended to get in the way while she was doing medical stuff. At the moment she'd been shopping for gifts rather than for herself.

The wave was met with a smile, and Martha moved closer to Ariadne, and then Martha chuckled over the pattern of the scarf.

"I am, yeah. Are you? You lived here, yeah?"

[buildindreemz]

"Yeah, I did," Ariadne said with a little shrug. "Though I couldn't tell you what happened to the Eiffel Tower; it wasn't like that the last time I was here."

She pulled a yellow scarf off the rack. "What about this one?" She wrapped it around her neck with a flourish.

Friday during the day.

[thegooddrjones]

Despite the fact that it was going to make her look like an awful fangirl, Martha Jones wasn't going to let a visit to Paris pass without going to the Opera House and paying respects to Erik. She was heading in that direction carrying a bouquet of crimson roses that she'd grabbed at a flower stand. She looked happy and purposeful.

Friday during the day.

[jillykitzinger]

Jilly was strolling down the sidewalk, a designer pair of sunglasses covering most of her face. Shopping bags lined each arm, and she was poking away at her old smartphone (out of habit, really) to see if she had a signal. Not that she had anyone to call these days. She also knew this wasn't the sort of Paris she'd stumble upon in her own world, not the way that Eiffel Tower was looking. Seriously, who destroyed the Eiffel Tower?

[thegooddrjones]

Getting jostled by shopping bags wasn't exactly an odd sort of thing to be happening while walking down the trendier parts of Paris, but she supposed it was odd to find someone you knew out of all the people here. Well, someone whom you sort of knew anyway. "Jilly, yeah?" Martha asked as she paused.

[jillykitzinger]

Jilly paused as well, flicking her glasses down to the tip of her nose to study Martha. "That would be me, yes. Have we met?" Almost immediately, she waved her phone-holding hand. "Listen to me. We just spoke yesterday, although I suppose technically we haven't met until now. Martha Snape-Jones, head of the infirmary. You're prettier in person." She, of course, noticed the enormous bouquet of roses. "From your husband?"

Saturday during the day-Ayra

[thegooddrjones]

Wandering around Paris, finding Ayra someway.

[dont_tell_sansa]

Arya was having fun. Everything about this land was new and bright and confusing, but Arya was just more determined to learn everything about it. When she'd observed enough to copy, she went walking down the sidewalks, mimicking walks and gaits, and eventually, pausing in front of a big store window. They sold dresses, and their front window was shiny enough for Arya to see herself. Her hair was a mess of knots and mats, and she tried tugging her fingers through them for a moment. When she felt strands start to rip from her scalp, she gave up, and tried to rub the smudge from her cheek.

Stupid dresses. They were strange, but kind of pretty. The kind Sansa would have made, if she lived here. The kind her lady mother would wear. But not her - she hated dresses, and given the way the woman inside was watching her through the window, Arya didn't think she'd even be allowed in.

"Stupid."

[thegooddrjones]

Martha blinked a bit when she saw the girl who was standing in front of the mirror. She'd been about to give her a few euros to go find a hot meal when she heard the muttered 'stupid' in a familiar tone of voice.

Frowning, Martha paused and she turned to look at the girl. "Cat?" She asked, and then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bag as she looked to the girl. Martha's arm shouldn't have been able to go into the bag past her elbow, but it did. When she removed her hand, she had a package of wipes and opened it, holding them out to the girl.

"Who's your warden?" There was no recrimination; only concern for the girl who'd someone left running a muck Paris alone for two days.

[dont_tell_sansa]

Arya turned when Martha spoke, and she didn't let her mouth twitch up into a smile, though it wanted to. I'm no one. Her eyes widened when Martha reached into her bag, boggling at the way her arm disappeared. "How did--" She paused to take the package, turning it over in her hand until she worked out how to open it. Even then, she didn't know what she was holding.

"Naoto, but she left." But that was not important. "How did you do that?"

Sunday during the day

[thegooddrjones]

Wandering, pick a place.

[metallonkardia]

Having left Bellatrix with her babysitter (... his mother), John is walking out of a bookshop, sifting through the few slender, brightly colored paperbacks he's picked up - kids books? - and not really paying attention to his immediate surroundings, except to keep from bumping into anyone.

He's almost blending in by now - black leather jacket, designer jeans, too-expensive sunglasses (real, unfiltered sunlight still dazzles his vision after a little while), semi-permanent displeased expression. He could practically pass for French, if not for the fact that he speaks so little of the language. The tell-tale sign of his displacement is the barge communication device clipped to the shoulder strap of his jacket, police-style. Just in case.

[thegooddrjones]

Martha probably would have passed him as a member of the Paris populace had it not been for his Barge communicator. The doctor had been out shopping, and she was juggling a few bags as she walked, and she'd decided that heading to a book store (though they may have a laughable few amount of English books) was a good idea.

She blinked at him for a moment before she offered a smile and a very familiar voice, "finding Paris to your liking?" A gesture around them and Martha's clothing stood a bit out. Her coat was long and flowing and made of black dragonskin, a gift from her husband after she'd made a joke of not having a hero's coat one to many times.

[metallonkardia]

He looks up as she begins speaking, keyed into the attention focused on him more than anything. It takes him a second to respond, but when he does: "Martha." A beat, and oh right, she asked him a question.

"There's not much to dislike." He's almost getting used to it enough to enjoy it, even.