i_digmummies (i_digmummies) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2011-02-26 14:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | amelia peabody |
Getting Settled (narrative)
After John left, Amelia was rather at a loss what to do next. She needed a plan. Her logical manner of thinking suggested a place to sleep and other necessities for survival were of paramount concern. She opened her chatelaine bag to see how much money she had and discovered three things; She didn't have any money, there was a mysterious key, and she now had a very odd sort of device with numbered and lettered buttons.
The key was her first concern. She looked behind her at the building she'd been in when she woke up in this strange place. The Manchester. Raising an eyebrow, she shrugged to herself. Why not? Anything was possible. So she strode purposefully back into the building and upstairs to the room she had exited from earlier. Taking a deep breath, she tried the key.
It turned the lock with ease.
She took a good look around the rooms, discovering it was more than adequate. The decor was similar to those in her own home back in Kent, which made her wonder if tastes in furniture had little changed, or if it was specially created for her. Nothing would surprise her at this point.
That took care of her first concern. The second was money. She would need food, and a way to pay for these accommodations. Perhaps the City thought (Amelia still had a great deal of difficulty with something that should be inanimate having a conciousness) it could appease her by providing for her every need. That would simply not do.
She refused to be indebted to it, if she ever hoped to be able to escape. Perhaps some women would crumble under the pressure, sobbing into their pillows over the sheer unfairness of it all. Not she. Amelia was far too practical, and action was what was required now.
She could cry later. She was human, regardless of how stiff her spine was.
She found a pad and pen in a desk drawer and headed back down to the street. Mr. Watson had warned her that things could move, but she would not get lost by being unprepared. With each turn, Amelia continued to draw a little map so she could find her way back. She passed many strange things, shops catering to items she couldn't possibly understand. She ran a mental list in her mind to journal later; Emerson would never believe all this when she saw him again, and she didn't want to forget a single thing.
She finally stopped in front of a building that held her interest. It was the Library. Here, finally, was something Amelia understood. At least she hoped so. She walked in, instantly hit with the familiar smell of books and wood polish. She approached the desk, wondering if they had any openings. "Excuse me?" The woman looked up and smiled.
"Are you Amelia Peabody?"
"It's Mrs. Emerson, actually. But..."
The woman looked down at her notes and nodded.
"Ah, yes. My apologies. We have been waiting for you. If you'd like to come with me, I can show you where to put your things and we'll get you right to work." She nodded to the man beside her, and stepped out from behind the counter. "If you'll follow me, Amelia."
Amelia did as she was asked, with a mixture of pleasure, confusion, and annoyance. Was there anything she could do in this City that it hadn't previously arranged? Time would tell, but for now it seemed she at least had a job. It was a start. She had a place to stay, and money to buy what she needed. Next up on her agenda- finding out what the little box with the buttons she'd found in her bag was.
And maybe do a little shopping.