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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Jan 8, 2013 17:28:18 GMT -5
Sherlock was, frankly, bored. What had he to do here besides sit and watch the oddities of the idiots around him, see what they were doing with their lives? (Which, of course, was not much--and pretty much the same for each.) They were all farmers, or merchants, or knights--the latter being the least common of the three. He had watched far too many people pass as he'd sit, drinking tea and memorizing which door each person went in and out of. He was utterly bored.
What was this place he'd been put in? Common history knowledge was not something that Sherlock wanted in his neatly-organized attic of the mind, and the best he could do to place it was in the broader sense of medieval. He did not appreciate having left his comfortable life on Baker Street, all the comforts of modern living. And worst of all, he did not have his phone, so he could not text John. Perhaps, should he collect the right deductions, Sherlock could find a way out of here. He had some money with him, and a (very) small home, but he was without his microscope, his experiments, his violin... Oh, how was he supposed to live in such a horrid place? London called, but he was unable to answer.
Was there anyone here worth talking with? Worth studying? Even Mycroft would be twice as interesting as most of the people who were passing him by right now, and Mycroft was simple. Surely John was here somewhere, and surely there was some sort of crime around that would occupy his bored mind. Looking around, Sherlock saw no one, and gave a hefty sigh for the occasion. Why on earth could he find nothing here to pique his interest?
Suddenly, he saw it. Someone worth observing.
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Post by Melody M. Grandere on Jan 8, 2013 18:15:51 GMT -5
 The nineteen year old had come back from a swim. What a swim it had been! She had recorded a new type of fish that had blue and purple patterns. She hadn't come up with a name for it quite yet. Her skin was paler and glowing now. Swimming always refreshed her. She flipped through her book rapidly going to the page with the fish and wrote down another characteristic- Calls out with short shrieking like calls. she noted on the page. She added the final touches of the pattern on the fish. She shut the journal and continued on. The entrance of Aldeon was fast approaching as she moved closed. She knew soon her mother would be chewing her ear off about how she always spent too much time exploring and not enough time listening to her 'informational' lectures. Then she remembered something. For a brief moment she had actually felt 'human' she wasn't a human and she now accepted that. She was a mermaid. No one knew. Or at least she thought. She nodded to the guard as she entered. Instead of acknowledging her he stood at his post. She felt the eye's of someone watching her. She looked around and met eyes with a man. "Hello. Can I help you?" She said with a faint smile. She looked at him. he didn't seem too pleased to be where he sat. It was the same look she had done many times while her mother lectured. Boredom. She knew what it was like. It was horrible. She held her smile now determined to cheer him up. |
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Jan 9, 2013 18:51:45 GMT -5
Sherlock now found himself without the three things he missed most of all: his violin, his cell phone, and John Watson. He was not coping well, as John probably would have guessed, and his boredom grew by the hour. He had nothing to do, excepting perhaps the times he'd found himself reclining on someone else's divan, eyes closed, for hours on end. He did not understand this world that he'd been thrown in, and no deductions that he'd made, no one person that he'd set upon with his worldly green eyes, had been able to prove to him anything. He had no idea where he was, and science was not helping.
He watched, bored, and decided swiftly that it must be his post here to keep the crime at its good normal, not too little and not too much. He knew that his mind was sharp and was easily ready to spot which of these scandalous peoples were ready for troublemaking.
And just as he contemplated an early afternoon nap, Sherlock noticed and heard someone. He saw by her pale skin, her soft, uncalloused hands, that she was not as accustomed to manual labour as many of those who resided here, and he judged by her subconciously defensive body position that she was withholding some information from the whole of the population around her. At first, he passed her off as typical, as well unworth his time. "No," he spurned, looking up. But then he decided it was in his better interest to respond more. "But are you in need of something? Or perhaps, hiding something?"
A bit forward, but thus was Sherlock Holmes. |
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Post by Melody M. Grandere on Jan 9, 2013 19:46:03 GMT -5
She was stunned did he know she was well... a mermaid? She put on a nervous look and bit her lower lip. "Y-You..you Know...?" she stuttered and gripped her note book tighter. She did draw her own tail and wrote all about her abilities. She glanced at the book then at the gate. Could she run? No. He would surely be able to catch her before she did. She was stuck looking back at him. Did he really know though? Was it a trick. She wasn't sure. Would he dare approach her and take her book? She didn't think so but, she did at the same time. Maybe he didn't even know but she had basically just spoke that she did have a secret. She knew he would be one of those guys that would try to pry at her secret until he found out. She glanced once again at the gates. It definitely was impossible. She sighed. "What do you know?" she said raising an Eyebrow at the bored man. She inhaled deeply waiting for his response. He would find out one way or another even if she didn't tell him. He would find a way and that was clear as glass to Melody. She stared back at him trying to some-what over power his look but, failed and looked at the ground. She then looked back up at him nervously waiting for his answer. Hopefully he didn't know any fishermen. That would spell Disaster with a capital D.
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Post by Cherry Darling on Jan 10, 2013 21:44:49 GMT -5
Cherry was a spitfire, full of anger, bitterness, sarcasm, and a variety of useless talents ranging from Go-go dancing to juggling. For two months she had scoured the countryside, for two months she had avoided any city, town or civilization like a plague. Why? Well that was quite simple. She had a high powered machine gun as a leg that still had quite a few bullets and she needed to be rid of them before she encountered civilians. She doubted this world had that technology and she had even less confidence in her ability to contain her temper long enough not to gun down the entire civilization. So... she had waited until she had run out of ammo and her leg was no longer a weapon to seriously dwindle this jacked up fairy tale hells population. Instead it was a fancy paperweight and only then did she allow herself to draw near.
She was deadly enough in a fist fight and the gun would only prove to be a nice two by four substitute should some asshole piss her off... Cherry fought dirty always had, always would. She doubted she packed enough power to actually kill someone and perhaps, in that way she could prevent getting beheaded... or whatever other torture devices they had laying around. Cherry stood at the entrance to the massive city, cracked her neck and limped forward. She was clad in a thin red corset that left little to nothing to the imagination. A heavy black leather jacket, laden with patches, a wedding band around her finger, a short, tight leather mini skirt and on her one remaining leg, a high heeled black boot.
Long dark hair fell in messy curls, framing her thin face, her lips were pressed in a hard line and her eyes were daring. Dark orbs of shimmering anger, just begging someone to engage her in combat. Her lips pulled back in a sneer as she heard the quiet conversation between the man and the woman, she rounded the corner, perfectly balanced on her poor substitute of a leg. It was now an extension of herself, she could navigate with it just fine. She tilted her head scanning the two quickly, neither looked like they would be much use in combat, but looks could be deceiving. Her lips pulled up in a sarcastic quirk of a smile and she winked at the young woman.
"Perhaps if your speech was not filled with stutters you would not seem so suspicious... or you could simply try denying the man, instead of reassuring him he was correct in his assumption." Cherry's voice was low and keen, filled to the brim with sarcasm. She spoke in hushed tones but her words were punctuated, sharp. They were meant to sting.
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Jan 11, 2013 17:25:19 GMT -5
It was curious enough to Sherlock that he had the timid, frightened attention of this one girl, the one whose secret was clearly not something she intended on letting go (He couldn't say he did not understand her impersonal nature). But he did not understand the nature with which she was speaking. Sociopath he might be, and uncaring too, but he did not like nor could relate to other people. This, honestly, was the reason he missed John Watson, if not for his irrelevant observations.
Sherlock deducted quickly, so quickly that it never occurred to him how long it might take others to draw the same conclusions. "Well, yes, now I know." He said flatly. He did not know what, per se. Just that something was there. With his hands in his pockets and his eyebrows cocked, he was ready to answer her second question, to claim that he could tell more if he got a better look at her, until another came toward them. Sherlock shifted his weight onto his non-dominant foot, his posture nearing unapproachable. He did not like company, nor intrusions. Ah, perhaps, though, it was better than being bored.
He looked over this new visitor, his sharp eyes zeroing in on every detail. He would have pointed out the obvious details: the strange leg; the sketchy, likely whorish past; her self-proud attitude. But he chose not to, for reasons undisclosed. "Would you care to step back a bit?" he asked coldly, not afraid of her weapon but feeling intruded upon by having three minds in the same space. They were blocking his ease to deduction.
So Sherlock stepped back a little. "And I might suggest that you don't speak so. Perhaps I already know I'm right, regardless of her response." |
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Post by Melody M. Grandere on Jan 11, 2013 17:49:57 GMT -5
 ~Melody~ Melody inhaled deeply as the girl approached. Did she not see they were talking? What was this on her leg. Wait not on her leg, it was her leg. She pursed her lips and listened to her sharp tone. "I may speak as I wish." She said emotionless and shifted her weight uncomfortably. She was sick of this girl already. She hated being told what to do and how to do it. She smiled faintly barely noticeable. She admired him for sticking up for her even though they didn't know each other. She thought again. Maybe her does know my secret. Her mind spun and she felt faint. This was the downside to being a mermaid. Sensitive to conflict. Once she really had fainted. Her mothers gone insane rushing her to the doctor and buying her powders, pills, and liquid medicine. She didn't need it all she needed when she fell faint was the smell of ocean water or a drop of it. She was glad her mother hadn't figured out she had a tail! Her mother would have thrown a tantrum and she'd never be able to go any where near water. Back to her senses. She inhaled the black dots forming in her eyes. This sucked. She might faint and she'd look like a dork! In her note book she had drawn herself as a mermaid and written about it. If she passed out now... they could flip through it. She tried to fight it but, she fell to the floor. She had fainted. |
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Post by Cherry Darling on Jan 11, 2013 23:27:44 GMT -5
Her attention snapped to the... she wasn't sure what he was, he appeared as though he had stepped out of the eighteenth century, but then again, this world had orcs... and trolls... and giants... and God only knew what else, he seemed the least out of place of everything she had seen thus far. Who was she to judge? Wicked dark eyes flooded with amusement at the males biting tone and even more biting comments. Slowly her lips pulled up in a smile and laughter poured from her mouth. She brought one hand to her mouth and the other to her stomach to muffle a bit of her laughter, she swayed uneasily on her strange substitute for a leg but quickly regained her balance, struggling for composure.
"Well I could step back but-" She cut herself off as the woman she just clearly offended swayed uneasily before falling forward, Cherry hopped backwards to avoid the falling damsel and blinked. "Well... it seems the young lady has given you your wish, bit melodramatic for my tastes but to each his own I suppose." She nudged the unconscious woman with her boot and when she didn't move Cherry sighed. It took a special breed of person to entertain Cherry, much less befriend her. She reflected everything with sarcasm and her rough exterior made her most...undesirable company to most. El Wray had tamed her... to a degree, he had become an expert at deflecting her sarcasm and had somehow managed to claw his way into the emotions of her heart and as much as she was loathe to admit it, she loved him. Planned on marrying him once they had gunned down every zombie in Texas. His engagement ring still glittered on her ring finger, its engraving catching the light and playing with the shadows. Two against the world baby. But that was neither here nor there and she redirected her attention back towards the still conscious gent.
"And perhaps if you would kindly remove the pole from your hind quarters pretty young virgins wouldn't faint at the harshness of your tongue." Cherry took no offense to his words, in fact she seemed to delight in them. While the smile had faded from her face, her eyes still twinkled with amusement and barely suppressed delight. Oh yes! This was proving a great deal of fun.
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Jan 12, 2013 13:17:28 GMT -5
The curiosity in Sherlock's mind was not yet piqued, but merely brushed. Considering he didn't actually care what others did or what they thought of him, it wasn't exactly his station to care about the intrapersonal relationships between others. But he was here, and he seemed to have done or said something horribly wrong. Well, medically. He crouched down and stretched out his hand to check her for a pulse. Medically glad to find one, he stood up satisfied.
"She is fine," he said shortly, and said no more. He studied his concious acquaintance quietly, drawing several more conclusions before deciding he probably did not want much to do with her. She was very proud, and very guarded, and he knew better than to deal with people of that nature 'for fun.' He wondered briefly how to solve the problem of the poor fainted girl, and then thought enough to kindly ask the concious one, "Do you have any... perfumes?" He was still unsure of what was available in this place, what with his acute knowledge of medieval history.
Sherlock glared. He did not appreciate rudeness, nor simplemindedness, nor sarcasm lest it was his own. "It would suit me well if you could turn around and let me think, but I'd hate to bear you the trouble." He was cold in his words and rather insincere. But at least this was more to do than sit around and miss John Watson. |
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Post by Cherry Darling on Jan 12, 2013 14:34:17 GMT -5
She watched curiosity piqued as he actually seemed to at least care enough to make sure the woman was still alive... and here she thought he was another soulless bastard, intriguing. He spoke simply, plainly, but he seemed to want just as little to do with the unconscious woman as she did, possibly even less so. Cherry could not stand women who swayed at the sight of beauty, nor could she understand why so many seemed so... dainty. They had all the same equipment as any male, save for a very sensitive area between the legs, could they not learn to wield a sword? A knife? Why did so many weapon have to cower from the shadows? This was why Cherry avoided crowded places. She had a vast dislike for the human populace as a whole.
"I've been on this God forsaken spit of land for almost two months and the only modern material I have found is the gun I use for a leg, and unless the perfume you refer too is derived from troll blood, orc innards, or goblin juices, you won't find it beyond these walls." Cherry knew little to nothing about this world and to be frank, she cared little. She had no desire to be here, nor did she wish to stay, but since getting back home seemed impossible, she was trying to at least find some hole in the wall to sleep in. Her back screamed its protest when she merely thought of sleeping on the grass again. He scrutinized her, eyeing her countenance up and down, seemingly analyzing her and when he finally did speak, her lips curled up in a sneer, apparently this conversation was going nowhere fast.
"Very well sir." Her tone was hollow and just as cold. She bowed mockingly, her dark eyes still shining with barely suppressed amusement. "I leave you to your unconscious friend, no doubt she shall bring you more stimulating conversation than I." While she had no desire to make allies, she figured making enemies with the first human she came across, probably wasn't too wise. With a grunt of annoyance, she continued down the street. Intent on finding some kind of Inn.
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