Philo has a secret (whereyoustand) wrote in angellogs, @ 2019-09-10 22:04:00 |
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Current mood: | uncomfortable |
Who: Yvette Moore, Philo
When: Current
Where: The archives room at one of Scrooge's museums
What: Philo is pretty injured and confused, and Yvette ends up talking a bit about how things work here. He's trying hard to not talk about what he's worried about.
Rating/Warnings: Philo recently got beaten up and he's trying to bluff. Spoilers for up to the beginning of Episode 7, Season 1 of Carnival Row
Status: Complete
The first thing Philo does when he realizes he’s actually conscious, before everything starts to seriously hurt is the first thing one does every time they’ve taken a couple fists to the face, he runs his tongue over his teeth gradually, checking to see if anything is loose. His nose probably wants setting, he thinks and his ribs are absolutely killing him, but he’s reasonably sure that it’s nothing he won’t recover from. Usually when you take this sort of a beating, you’re at least able to say you brought the suspect, or the actual criminal if it’s come to assault on a burgish officer and veteran, in, but for now, he’s glad enough to be breathing.
His next thought is to glance over to the Critch cell. Vignette had been THERE, for what he’s not entirely sure yet, it’s not as though he wasn’t QUITE preoccupied at the moment. Only, well. He’s certainly NOT in the jail anymore.
On the one hand, being free and clear of there is good, since he doubts he’s going to ever be able to return to it, but on the other, well, other than being in some sort of...he’s obviously still underground somewhere...he has no idea where he actually IS.
So this is what hallucinations feel like. Well, that’s fun.
There's a clunk of a door somewhere, and a young woman says, "Monta -" before suddenly cutting herself off. "That is a lot of blood. For a second I thought you were Citoyen Orchard." She's young, with a bit of something in her accent, and wearing a blue blouse and a fairly long skirt. Her left foot's got a brace on the ankle, and she looks - understandably worried. "Not that you'd know Citoyen Orchard. I've some water. Let me help."
That’s getting something of a blank look from the man in question, though he’s straightening at once, anyway.
“I can imagine there’s a good explanation for this, but at the moment, I fear I’m sorely pressed to find an actual explanation. For the ending up here at least. The rest is a bit more self explanatory, and a good deal uglier.” Citoyen...he’s trying to think of a place that address might be used, but comes up with a blank as far as THAT is concerned.
“And I am afraid not.” The uniform, what’s left of it under the muck and a bit of blood that’s trickled down and some straw stuck to him does at least suggest some sort of official presence from wherever he is from.
“I’d dare to venture I should offer apologies but at the moment, I may need a reminder of where I am. I don’t appear to remember...any of this. I take it I’m no longer in the Burgue.”
"Bruges? Belgium?" Yvette tilts her head. "And easy. It looks like you've had a turn through a lot and it's gone for your ribs. And your nose." She's offering a handkerchief and digging in her bag. "I'm Yvette. You may've ended up somewhere very different from home. It's happened to myself, and others."
Philo just blinks at that. The name isn’t familiar to him and he’s frowning. “Not quite, I’m afraid. It’s a fairly long passage to the Burgue from Tirnanoc, which was taken over in the war with The Pact...does any of this sound familiar?” It...doesn’t appear to somehow.
“I suppose I…” Then he’s blinking. “You’re saying that this happens normally? I don’t know if I ought to be alarmed I’ve found a place like that, or relieved. Inspect…” Then he’s frowning. “I suppose I’ve lost the title and the job now. Rycroft Philostrate. Philo. And thank you, Madam. Yvette.” He’s now dabbing at his face, carefully.
“I likely at least look worse than it is.”
"Or just as bad as it does." She's producing a glass bottle of water and opening the top to offer him. "While you're not an inspector here, there's no reason why you can't become one again. I do know a doctor who's good. I talked to him about my ankle."
Well, more than likely not if a doctor gets involved in any of this, Philo thinks grimly. There are some things that are impossible to keep from those in the know, but he’s willing to attempt repeating what he chose in the Burgue to here. It’s the best option he HAS, he decides, waving off the doctor issue.
“I hardly think it THAT bad.” He says lightly enough for now. “I’d not want to bother a doctor with just the results of a jail beating. That does seem silly, doesn’t it?”
"Jail beatings are illegal here." Yvette's looking at him. "Is it because you were an inspector that you're worried about? Or whatever ended you in jail? Because you really aren't home." She's digging in her bag. "You probably have this, and a card? All of us do, who ended up here."
“From the other prisoners?” Philo laughs a little. “Well, SOME of it. And not precisely.” He’s not certain any more if trust is the sort of thing that’s going to work out with most people. The last person he told, told as opposed to admitted when questioned anyway, IS the one who decided it was a bloody wonderful idea to turn him in for it.
For now, he’s settling on glancing around to see what he’s got with him. There’s an odd small box that doesn’t immediately make sense to him, and he’s squinting. Some sort of music box? There’s no key to turn. There IS a button of sorts so he’s tapping that and it’s lighting up.
“This is something important to people here?”
"Sometimes? It's got a lot of functions." Yvette offers him a hand up. "Let's go to my office. I'll tell my employer I'm taking lunch and I can show you."
Philo is accepting the hand up and trying to brush some of the dirt off at the same time. “I fear I’m quite a mess considering.” he does have to laugh a little ruefully at the way it’s all turned out, somehow. “But thank you, really.” He’s making a note to learn as much as he can about the stance of people toward others here.
“You mention many people have ended up here from other worlds. Ah...there’d not be any magical beings among them? There are so many at home that I’d expect it if I did not know better. NOT that it is not what most burgishmen would love.” Philo shakes his head.
"I'm not sure what I'd call magical?" Yvette smiles at him. "There's a man who's very ill, but had medical treatments at his home place to not die from it, from what little I understand of his situation. There's a sort of engineer who doesn't see himself as magical, but he said he did magical stuff at home? He does jewelry and paints theatrical sets here. But - the doctor who's talking with the doctor I saw? He says he's magical. He runs a school for magic in Greece. Two children in house, I think."
She's gently leading him toward her office. "Is there anything you cannot eat? There was a girl who said she can turn blue, and she was chased from schools as a child, but she was discussing going to school with someone here. Would that be magical, where you're from?"’
“That’s...not quite what I was thinking of, but it’s good to know.” Philo isn’t going to get his hopes up about some of that, but he’ll keep filtering. “But ah in terms of anyone not a human sort of a magical being. Though hearing about that is INTERESTING. I cannot imagine it being easy to live like you describe but a doctor who has seen the magic is...intriguing.”
"I think there's some people who've been here who didn't look exactly like this before they got here? Where I was, there was just humans so the change to here wasn't too odd for me, but I know that Citoyen Balthier, the man who makes jewelry? He said he was a hume, and there was other races around. We were discussing differences between home and here at dinner." Yvette's setting up a tea pot and some cups. "Let me quickly tell my boss that I'm taking a break."
She pauses. "He said he was a duck, you know. Before he got here. That must've been a shock for him to look in the mirror."
“A...did you say…” Philo says, then frowns a bit. “Oh sorry, DUCK, not a Puck. One of the species of people at home.” he adds. “Horns, hooves, slightly goatlike...I can imagine that WOULD be quite the shock. ...So forms change as well.” Perhaps he doesn’t have much to worry about. His scars may well not be the issue he’s had to make them into, now.
"Puck's - a lad in a play, for me. Goatlike though, yes. Court of fairies and Titania's not happy with Oberon. But not a race. There are people who are racist about how you look, or how you sound here, but it's not approved. No sort of - uh - being mad that a puck is working at your store? And it would be illegal to discriminate."
“Really now?” Philo’s shoulders are untensing just that little bit. “That IS good to find, a better world. Someone important to me was fey. She’s suffered for it, a great deal.”
"That sounds horrible. As an inspector, I suspect you were kind of hampered by your job too." Yvette slides a cup over to him. "Tea. There's sugar and creamer, if you want it. I grew up in a place with a harsh government. My best friend was arrested for a year and was hurt pretty badly."
“It did provide the chance to do some things right.” Philo says, quite serious about the fact. “It was not always EASY, but I had enough of a reputation that people tended to let me get on with things. Until fairly recently, at least. Vignette, my friend, was...a new complication. A new, old complication but in a brand new place. Ah thank you.” The tea is something he’s QUITE grateful for.
“My brother, in arms and every other way but blood has spent the last seven years locked up as well.” He shakes his head. “It’s incredibly stupid, but that was the best that I could get him. Sad, really. You give your country everything and then in return…”
Well.
“This place seems better than that.”
Yvette takes a sandwich and slides one over to him. They're little half triangles because she showed how to make them to the Victorian kids, the way she was taught at home. "So, shall we start on what these can do, and then move to a shower and you could talk to that magical doctor I was talking about? I was told he's sort of - you know the slightly grumbly guy? But he is a decent person. Has a hand injury, so he no longer does surgery."
“I think that seems reasonable.” To a point, anyway. Philo’s fairly sure, given the hand injury of the doctor, that he can make up some horrific back related tragedy that’ll get him out of showing anything. It’s just not the kind of thing he wants to chance YET. “Thank you.” he adds.
"I got helped when I got here. Would you be willing to talk to a fellow officer? He's from here, but he's got a ton of resources for options. Or with the jail thing, is that kind of unnerving?"
“It’s not as though there’s any jurisdiction over me here, and the investigation I’m involved in isn’t taking place, so that part’s will suit me fine.” Philo may as well use the chance to ask about the potential future here.
Yvette leans over. "So let's start with that. They've got the post, right? In your world? Let me show you how to send a message to Officer Pat."
“We certainly have.” Philo nods. “Telegraphs as well. I expect it works like that, across a distance?”
Yvette leans to show him. "So these bars are how well your phone is talking to the system. Oh - that reminds me." She digs in her bag. "This is what a phone looks like where I come from." It's comparatively thick, and folds in half to protect a keypad. "So - I sort of knew some of the tech when I got here."
“Ah, useful.” Philo nods. “And that seems reasonable enough to learn. Codes still or is this more like actual language?”
"People use abbreviations. So - I'll send you a file and it'll explain some safety stuff. Don't have to read it now, but it's aimed at folks like us who might not have the same tech levels here?" Yvette shows him how to do that. "Here's how to contact Stephen, and I'll show you me going through the steps of messaging him. E-mails are akin to the post, texting is akin to the telegraph. There's another feature which isn't common here, but built into these."
Philo is nodding as the file comes through. “I’ll endevor to take care of that as soon as I’m able to make the time.” he promises, and nods his way through, since it does seem simple enough. So far, so good, right?
"So here's the fancy end of things. This thing can let you talk to people. This one will let you - think of it like a library or a newspaper?" She's turning it to him to show her talking about her first day at work. "Other people can read it. And this function here is a map, but part of it is that you can literally take yourself from one place to another."
“I HAD been going to ask about the rail situation.” Philo notes, nodding. “So this instead. There are plenty of times that would have proved quite useful.”
"There are options. Some cities have trains, some have other vehicles. But I could check in with some people and see if we could get you swiftly from here, to somewhere with a shower and clean clothes. Advantages of being able to teleport. I believe it's technological, not magical, but I suspect the difference is largely academic." She's bringing up Officer Pat's information. "This is that police officer I was talking about. He'd know about things like - say if folks from your world showed up and tried to start anything, he'd know how to protect you."
She's already mentioned to Stephen that they'd need clothing of about these sizes for him, since he honestly looks like he's rolled around in a Victorian ditch and a prison, and probably both. Also her guess for his general state of health.
She eyes him. "I do mean it about it - being safe here, being different. If your friend showed up, she's not going to be immediately picked out of the crowd for being fey. She might stand out if she looks different, but some places, people might think she's just got a strange sense of style. I showed up here, wearing stuff that's probably forty years out of style, limping back from picking up some pills for an injured leg, and for the most part, no one noticed me."
That gets an eyebrow. “I dare say it’s not the sort of thing that could be hidden easily as that. But that IS helpful to hear. And that is...I’d suppose not. It sounds a bit odd, your arrival, but not so obviously strange as anything any of our fae refugees would bring here. Still.” he’s relaxing a bit now.
And Philo does wonder, a little. If Yvette’s employer was a duck, but is a human now, would Vignette’s wings travel here with her? True, they can be hidden in the Burgue if they absolutely must be, by corsets and other contraptions he’s glad he never had to bother with, and he hopes, for anyone’s sakes, that it would still work much the same way. To lose something like that, well, good job that his own wings were weak and half formed and the doctor had taken care of that before he could be quite consciously aware of it.
“You did mention an injury. Should you be running about the way you’ve done so far to help me?”
Yvette shows her ankle. "It's this. And I'm sitting. I was going to be heading around the archives, so technically you're getting me to rest. I fear I am the type to push myself. Shall we do tea and lunch while we wait for folks to reply?"