"Spain?" Sarah Jane wondered aloud, not quite gaping at the child who's just popped 'round out of nowhere, so much as she's contemplating just how that popping works and if people can go out as much as they can come in. "Not exactly Spain." Oh, bugger all. The girl couldn't be older than six. Seven? Sarah was rubbish with kids. She had a bad habit of being terrible, maternally and all.
"It looks like Spain," says Karen, turning towards the woman. She frowns and hefts Puss Cat a little higher against her chest. "You're not my mom, and where's the road gone? Roads don't just dissapear, do they?"
It definately definately looks like Spain to Karen. And, phew. It's hot.
"It does actually," Sarah Jane was forced to agree, when really, the sight of warm beaches and climates was akin to certain rivieras she'd read about, before. "But it's not Spain. No one's speaking Spanish, see! Just English, you and me," she said, sinking down into a crouch to talk to the young girl.
What was with all the fucking kids on this island? And, an even better question, what the fuck was with people just appearing out of no where? One minute it was a near empty beach, the next there was some kid standing around near him talking about Spain. Of course - the first fucking time in weeks he's felt good enough to sit down and write, some new person had to show up by him.
"You're a long way from Spain, kid," he said, scratching the side of his cheek with his pencil as he concentrated on curbing himself - at least for a little while. All he needed was to have some pissed off as hell parent going after him. He didn't feel like dealing with even more idiots.
"I'm average height for my age!" says Karen, a touch indignantly. It's what Jake told her to tell the boys at school and she follows it up with the face he told her to pull.
Her hair's in her face and she struggles with it for a minute before uncerminously dumping her bag and Hippo is the sand.
"I was leaving home. Mom kept nagging me, and I told her to stop, and she just kept nagging me."
Charles had been sucessful in his quest to stock up on copies of his novel. Or, more specifically, he'd been somewhat successful. He'd managed to aquire about eleven of the fifty he'd been hoping for, but that would be enough for the moment and all he needed was to properly autograph them and begin distributing them.
He paused in his musing and walking when he spotted a small child, cocked his head to the side and smiled. "Oh, no, certainly not Spain. Not France either, saddly. I've heard wonderful things about Spain but France always seemed a nicer place to me, less conqueoring I suppose, though I guess conqueoring isn't such a bad thing either."
Karen thinks about this for a minute. He talks a lot, like a very lot, like Ben talks a lot. She opens her mouth to say something, stops and thinks about it again.
"I've been to Spain," she says. "It looks like Spain." She pauses. "Hippo says it looks like Spain to him too."
"Does it?" He asks, eyebrows inching upwards. He supposed that he should be a little put out that a small English child is more wordly than himself, but as it is, he's willing to overlook that little detail and focus more the fact that she thought she was in Spain and was quite little herself.
"Well, I'm affraid to say it isn't Spain, my dear. It's an island truth be told, called Tabula Rasa. Rather pleasant island at that, though their government is clearly dysfunctional, and I'll take a leap of faith and assume you've just arrived. Welcome!" He wasn't sure what he should do about her, but he supposed he could always just take her to the Compound and drop her off someplace. Like the Kitchen, that's where the coddling types seemed to congregate.
"Well, it's got a beach. The beach in Brighton is sandy, but there's stones on the one in Devon. You have to wear your sandals to go into the sea."
Karen thinks about this for a minute. She frowns.
"So...this isn't Spain? How did I get here? I pushed the button to cross the road and mom was shouting." Her eyes widen. "Is it time-travel? Like on Doctor Who?"
It's actually been a while since I've seen someone pop up on the beach outta thin air. Doesn't matter how many times I see it, it still startles the shit outta me every fucking time. Kids this small... with an overnight bag and no mother... those are even rarer...
Carrying my board and zipped into my wetsuit, I stand a few feet away from her, head tipped to the side with a crooked smile, just watching what looks like excitement spark on her face at realizing she isn't where she used to be.
"Hate to break it to you, kid, but this isn't Spain."
"Maybe. Spain isn't an island though, I don't think," I say, face scrunching up like I'm thinking real hard, when really, I don't have a fucking clue what Spain looks like. Or France. Or Scotland. Kansas, New York and a fucked up magic island called Tabula Rasa and that's about as far as my frame of reference stretches.
Shoving the end of my board into the sand, I crouch down a little so she doesn't have to squint up into the sun, dripping water and coated in sand and salt.
"I didn't know how to swim 'til a year ago. I probably looked the same way. But just now I was surfing. You stand up on this board here and try to ride the waves back toward the shore," I say, pointing out into the distance at someone else riding a wave in. Probably one of Logan's students.
"Spain isn't an island! God, didn't you go to school?" Miss Carter just did Geography Week at school. Karen had bought in a donkey for the Europe table.
She rubs her cheek against Puss Cat's head and stares at him.
It's very easy to believe impossible things up until the age of thirteen, if one has got the proper frame of mine about these things, which is something that Wendy has always had much to her parents (her father's actually, and not all the time), desperate head shaking.
It was why she believed to the depths of her heart that in growing up she could do most anything. And nothing at all at the same moment. Though the little blonde girl's uniform is quite strange, which she'll admit quite honestly.
"It isn't Spain at all, though it is fantastically hot all over."
"Phew," says Karen, huffing her hair out of her eyes. "It is hot, I..."
And then Karen actually looks at the girl who's standing in front of her, and her mouth drops open. Karen has three favourite DVDs. She likes Moulin Rouge and Robin Hood and Peter Pan. Dad's explained to Karen about actors and real people, but, some days, she's shakier on the subject than others.
Being recognised is not an unfamiliarity for Wendy, but it usually ranges to those that she actually knows, such as Mother and Father, her brothers, and the people she passed the street. It has never really occurred to her on the beach with a little girl holding stuffed creatures before.
Though, to be perfectly fair, it had to happen sometime, and she did not mind it all that much. It just caused her to blink for a moment and furrow her brow for a moment, before smiling shakily.
"I'm Karen. And this is Hippo. And Puss Cat." She goes quiet, thinking for a second, and, when she speaks again, her voice has dropped to a stage whisper.
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It definately definately looks like Spain to Karen. And, phew. It's hot.
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"What's your name?"
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"You're a long way from Spain, kid," he said, scratching the side of his cheek with his pencil as he concentrated on curbing himself - at least for a little while. All he needed was to have some pissed off as hell parent going after him. He didn't feel like dealing with even more idiots.
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She squinted up at him, one eyebrow raised.
"You're taller than my dad."
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"And you're pretty short," he said, since they were apparently stating the fucking obvious. "You were just somewhere else a second ago, right?"
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Her hair's in her face and she struggles with it for a minute before uncerminously dumping her bag and Hippo is the sand.
"I was leaving home. Mom kept nagging me, and I told her to stop, and she just kept nagging me."
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He paused in his musing and walking when he spotted a small child, cocked his head to the side and smiled. "Oh, no, certainly not Spain. Not France either, saddly. I've heard wonderful things about Spain but France always seemed a nicer place to me, less conqueoring I suppose, though I guess conqueoring isn't such a bad thing either."
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"I've been to Spain," she says. "It looks like Spain." She pauses. "Hippo says it looks like Spain to him too."
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"Well, I'm affraid to say it isn't Spain, my dear. It's an island truth be told, called Tabula Rasa. Rather pleasant island at that, though their government is clearly dysfunctional, and I'll take a leap of faith and assume you've just arrived. Welcome!" He wasn't sure what he should do about her, but he supposed he could always just take her to the Compound and drop her off someplace. Like the Kitchen, that's where the coddling types seemed to congregate.
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Karen thinks about this for a minute. She frowns.
"So...this isn't Spain? How did I get here? I pushed the button to cross the road and mom was shouting." Her eyes widen. "Is it time-travel? Like on Doctor Who?"
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Carrying my board and zipped into my wetsuit, I stand a few feet away from her, head tipped to the side with a crooked smile, just watching what looks like excitement spark on her face at realizing she isn't where she used to be.
"Hate to break it to you, kid, but this isn't Spain."
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She squints at him.
"You're all wet. Have you been swimming. I like swimming, but dad says it looks more like d...drowning. The way I do it."
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Shoving the end of my board into the sand, I crouch down a little so she doesn't have to squint up into the sun, dripping water and coated in sand and salt.
"I didn't know how to swim 'til a year ago. I probably looked the same way. But just now I was surfing. You stand up on this board here and try to ride the waves back toward the shore," I say, pointing out into the distance at someone else riding a wave in. Probably one of Logan's students.
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She rubs her cheek against Puss Cat's head and stares at him.
"Can I stand on it?"
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It was why she believed to the depths of her heart that in growing up she could do most anything. And nothing at all at the same moment. Though the little blonde girl's uniform is quite strange, which she'll admit quite honestly.
"It isn't Spain at all, though it is fantastically hot all over."
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And then Karen actually looks at the girl who's standing in front of her, and her mouth drops open. Karen has three favourite DVDs. She likes Moulin Rouge and Robin Hood and Peter Pan. Dad's explained to Karen about actors and real people, but, some days, she's shakier on the subject than others.
"Oh, my God...You're Wendy."
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Though, to be perfectly fair, it had to happen sometime, and she did not mind it all that much. It just caused her to blink for a moment and furrow her brow for a moment, before smiling shakily.
"I am, and who might you be?"
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"Is Peter Pan here?"
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