Damon spotted the crazy chick a moment before she smiled at him. What was it about redheads being off their blessed heads? Who, exactly, did she think she was here? Maria Von Trapp? Damon smiled back nonetheless. At the very least, she might be funny crazy instead of sad crazy. He could do with a bit of that right now. Not to mention a distraction.
With all the grandeur of Italian nobility, he stepped back with one foot, bowing to her with a crisp, sweeping gesture of his hand. "Buon pomeriggio, giovane e bellissima cosa." Gadzooks. If he were a woman, he'd kiss himself. "Good afternoon."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, bellissima," he said smoothly, straightening up. Damon reached out, taking one of her hands and kissing her knuckles. "Penny?" An American with a good, American name. And crazy to boot. Always fun. "Yes, I am new here. Relatively." He paused. "Hard to tell how long I've been here, with all the time shifts, but it seems like I've only been here a little while."
He glanced at the baskets. "Running errands?" What kind of errands could she really be running? Groceries? Laundry? God, he missed supermarkets and department stores.
The wall could be a lonely place, even now that the frost and snow around the city was starting to melt away and it was just warm enough to step outside without having to bundle up entirely. Sam enjoyed the solitude. He'd come up here, the last handful of days, to sit (and occasionally pace, as he was doing now) and read poetry.
Today he was continuing his work on memorizing The Wasteland"Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak... Speak..." He always got lost around that bit. He opened the book again, to where his thumb held the page of the last passage he'd had to check. Then he snapped it shut, picking up the words again with fervor, rattling them off with the air of someone hurrying to keep up with his memory
( ... )
Damon heard Sam talking long before he came into view. When he first saw the other man, he got the sense that Jhelbor was, in fact, filled with nothing but crazy people. And quite a lot of them were British. He pulled a quick once-over on Sam and immediately decided that the man was a closet case who enjoyed listening to classical music on the radio and found corgis to be quaint.
But he'd start by playing nice.
"'Do 'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember 'Nothing?' I remember Those are pearls that were his eyes. 'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?'"
That last line was particularly ironic to Damon, but he would reserve that observation. He often wondered himself if he was alive or dead.
He'd just about buried his nose in the book as Damon started to pass by, but of course he looked up when he started to speak -- looking a little affronted at first, until he realized Damon was continuing the poem.
Worldwalker. Had to be. Unless Ianto was going around teaching Eliot to random natives.
"A bit too much, actually," he said, gesturing toward his own forehead. He thumbed the pages of the poetry book and tried to give off a friendly smile. "You must be new." Relatively.
"So they tell me," Damon replied. He wasn't sure what the whole 'a bit too much' thing meant, but he had a feeling that if he asked, he'd be treated to an unwanted, twenty minute lecture. Damon would only give him five minutes to get interesting before walking on.
"All relative. I've seen some pretty tiny worldwalkers. I think compared to them, I'm pretty old." Really, really old, actually, but there was no sense in thinking about that. "I don't suppose you're the child wrangler around here?" He had a little bit of a scholarly, school teacher look to him. A sketchy school teacher, but most of them were to varying degrees.
Touya was perched on the lowest branch of a tree near the Elf embassy, playing his flute. It was a no school day as far as when he walked in that...afternoon, so he had nothing to do other than kill time now since he didn't feel like working today. A few people had paid him for music anyway though, so he was in a fairly okay mood.
What this little catboy really wanted though was for something interesting to happen. Almost anything would do.
Either Damon was having a stroke (unlikely, as he didn't have circulation) or else he was definitely hearing music. Interesting. Which was sort of the point of this whole walkabout. Not wanting to be self-contradictory, Damon followed the sound. It was coming from a tree. Okay. He looked up and that's when he saw the...
The...
...what the heck was that thing?
Well, whatever it was, it was very little and cute. The sort of thing Bonnie would like to keep for a pet.
At the sound od Damon's voice, Touya stopped playing and looked down at him. Then he turned so that he was sitting sif=deways on the branch. Now he could see without having to lean. "Hello," he replied quietly but with no shyness.
This was a new face. And he couldn't be sure what the man was, but he didn't smell human. "Who are you?"
Well, wasn't he just the cutest little weird thing ever? "My name's Damon," he answered simply. Was this what Bonnie had been talking about when she mentioned talking animals? Because this bugger definitely had some serious tail action going on. Maybe he was a shapeshifter stuck between shapes? Damon had heard about that happening before.
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With all the grandeur of Italian nobility, he stepped back with one foot, bowing to her with a crisp, sweeping gesture of his hand. "Buon pomeriggio, giovane e bellissima cosa." Gadzooks. If he were a woman, he'd kiss himself. "Good afternoon."
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(The comment has been removed)
He glanced at the baskets. "Running errands?" What kind of errands could she really be running? Groceries? Laundry? God, he missed supermarkets and department stores.
Reply
Today he was continuing his work on memorizing The Wasteland"Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak... Speak..." He always got lost around that bit. He opened the book again, to where his thumb held the page of the last passage he'd had to check. Then he snapped it shut, picking up the words again with fervor, rattling them off with the air of someone hurrying to keep up with his memory ( ... )
Reply
But he'd start by playing nice.
"'Do
'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
'Nothing?'
I remember
Those are pearls that were his eyes.
'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?'"
That last line was particularly ironic to Damon, but he would reserve that observation. He often wondered himself if he was alive or dead.
Reply
Worldwalker. Had to be. Unless Ianto was going around teaching Eliot to random natives.
"A bit too much, actually," he said, gesturing toward his own forehead. He thumbed the pages of the poetry book and tried to give off a friendly smile. "You must be new." Relatively.
Reply
"All relative. I've seen some pretty tiny worldwalkers. I think compared to them, I'm pretty old." Really, really old, actually, but there was no sense in thinking about that. "I don't suppose you're the child wrangler around here?" He had a little bit of a scholarly, school teacher look to him. A sketchy school teacher, but most of them were to varying degrees.
Reply
What this little catboy really wanted though was for something interesting to happen. Almost anything would do.
Reply
The...
...what the heck was that thing?
Well, whatever it was, it was very little and cute. The sort of thing Bonnie would like to keep for a pet.
Well, he had asked for interesting.
"Hello?"
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This was a new face. And he couldn't be sure what the man was, but he didn't smell human. "Who are you?"
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"What are you doing up there?"
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