wanderinghamsa (wanderinghamsa) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2018-01-12 23:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | arabella ward, zipporah bakst |
Who: Zipporah Bakst, Arabella Ward
What: Bicycle shopping
Where: A local store
When: 10 January
Rating: G
Following the reading of an article in the Sunday paper, Arabella had written to ask if Zipporah should like to accompany her to investigate the recent trend in women's leisure activities: The bicycle.
As it happened, Zipporah did.
They stood outside the bicycle shop now, gazing in through the front window at the model on display. It was cold out, but Arabella found she preferred the chill of winter to any other season, and Zipporah had not yet complained. As soon as they went inside, they might be set upon by a fussy shopkeeper who would look over their shoulders for the male relative or husband controlling their purse strings, and Arabella also preferred the cold to that.
Arabella eyed the metal frame critically. "I understand the physics of it," she told Zipporah. "How if you accelerate to greater speed, balance should be retained more easily, but I find I cannot envision practically how it should stay upright. Have you seen them in motion, apart from a sketch?"
Zipporah bit her lip. “There was a man in the park, once who was riding one, but it looked very different. It was big, in the front -- tall. He sat higher than my head. It looked quite dangerous, but he seemed for to keep his balance quite well.”
The mention of danger was said in such a way that made it clear she didn’t think it to be a particular impediment.
She did notice Arabella’s hesitance upon seeing the thing up close, and she paused, not wanting to get her hopes up too high. “Is it… would the frame be of discomfort, do you think?”
"Yes," Arabella replied at once, having already thought of it once she'd seen the bicycle in person.
She said it without apparent concern; either she would be able to ride it, or she wouldn't. "I'll have to see how much. It would be quite heavy, if they used iron--you or I might not be able even to lift it alone if that were the case. Perhaps it's an alloy."
Which wouldn't improve matters much, but would be a point of metallurgical interest. Arabella blinked as she reconsidered the question from Zipporah's perspective, and not her own. "Oh. Or did you mean...the seat?" She gestured with her hand in a sort of metal-bar-between-the-legs sort of way, lacking any specific anatomical detail.
Raising her hand slightly as she judged the height of the bicycle, then lowering it to appropriate seat-height, Arabella asked, "How did he get up and down from it? The man with the bicycle? That's much taller than a horse."
“Oh, I meant for you,” Zipporah replied, “with the metals. Would it be a challenge, even with gloves, do you think? Although it does look quite heavy besides, and not as though it were particularly made for the skirts,” she added, with a touch of a frown. “And I did not see him getting on, or off,” she continued. “Perhaps there was a special sort of platform?”
She worried her lip. “Should we go in and inquire?” She asked. “I suppose we should have to, if we were for to try it.” She looked over at Arabella and shrugged, grinning. “Even if we decide not to try for to ride one, we would still be quite daring for asking, I think. Perhaps we ought to smoke cigarettes and swear for good measure?” She added, her grin widening.
Arabella was surprised, as she so often was with Zipporah, by her mouth stretching into a smile. "Do you have any?" she asked, although she couldn't honestly imagine doing such a thing as smoking. "We could try. I do know a few words," she added, daring.
Looking back at the shop, her smile faded as she considered. "You are right, we should go in. You could see their weight, if you would, and I will ask about the metal alloys. There must be some secret for skirts, or they would not sell them to women. They would get caught in the wheels, otherwise."
Arabella led the way, pulling open the shop door, and they soon found themselves attended by a portly man with extensive whiskers and enthusiasm. "Ladies! Welcome. Are you here to make a purchase? Have you tried the latest models? These are very good for getting around town, doing the shopping, visiting friends without the trouble of a cab."
Arabella folded her hands in front of her and fixed her gaze on the shopkeeper. "What are the percentages of metals used in your alloys for the frames?"
Blinking, the man faltered, but recovered quickly. "Finest cast iron for many of them, and steel for the newest. Very strong, there's no danger of them coming apart or breaking. Would you like to give one a look for yourself?"
“Oh,” Zipporah replied, with a bit of a mournful sigh, looking at one model hanging on a hook, and reaching out a finger to touch the wheel. “That is such a pity. They are all made of such things? I suppose they would be. Everything is made of the metal these days.”
The wheel spun a little as she touched it, rotating with unexpected ease, and she drew back her hand with a small laugh of surprise.
The shopkeeper seemed to be surprised again, but offered at once, "We do have some of the older wooden models still in, if you prefer them. Very lightweight, easy to carry..."
"Yes," Arabella interrupted, returning her gaze from Zipporah and the wheel to the man. "I would like to see those." She paused for a brief moment before remembering, "Please."
"Of course. Right this way. Have you ridden before, ladies? Would you like a demonstration? My assistant can show you how it's done."
He led the way toward the back of the store, where Arabella was heartened to see a bicycle made almost entirely from wood. "That is fortunate," she remarked to Zipporah; and, curious, asked, "Is there anything notable in your folklore or teachings about wheels?"
“Oh,” she replied, entirely too pleased that there were alternatives, that their plans wouldn’t be dashed, “there are stories of wheels everywhere. Wheels of life that turn our fortunes, I think everyone has that. But I do like the angels of Ezekiel -- the Ophanim -- angels that were wheels, tumbling beside the chariot, all feathers and eyes. I used for to try and draw pictures of them, they seemed so marvelous.” She laughed a little. “This is a different sort of chariot altogether, is it not? And I wonder at its ability for to stay upright.” She nodded to the proprietor, pleased. “Yes,” she said, “a demonstration, if you should be pleased. How does one mount such a thing? Does it require a stand?”
The man seemed a touch at a loss for words, but he recovered soon enough, and called up a reedy boy with no small degree of eagerness who promptly began to wheel one of the bicycles out to the courtyard behind the shop, gesturing them to follow him.
“These awld wooden ‘uns are a tech wobblier at a high speed,” he said, “but it’ll go well enough. You want me to take ‘er fer a spin, then?”
"Yes," Arabella said, adding after a moment of thought, "And show us how to manage our skirts, please." That could not be too scandalous if it needed to be taught to everyone, or at least everyone female. "I would like to hear more about those angels," she continued, turning her attention back to Zipporah as they walked. "They sound wonderful. Do you still have any pictures? Or would you draw a new one, for me?"
She had ideas already, feathers and eyes and fire and metal, and the right mix of ingredients to capture such magic into a single wheel. It had been a while since she'd taken on a personal project, and this one seemed promising.
She felt immediately soothed as they stepped outside and the winter cold touched her face, and basked for a moment in the icy beauty of the day and the courtyard. "Is it dangerous in the ice?" she asked, not sure whether she was directing the question toward Zipporah or the shop boy.
He looked a bit uncertain as to whether he’d been asked a question, but when he caught a quirk of Zipporah’s eyebrow, she could see the boy’s back straighten. “Depends,” he said, “it can be a bit slippy, tryin’ to get it rollin if it were on a patch of the stuff, and turnin’ and stoppin’ would be all sort of interestin if you hit it at the wrong angle, like, but most cobble and gravel ain’t smooth enough to make it slick. Wouldn’t go ridin’ on a rink, now,” he added.
He paused, still hesitant, before huffing a stream of breath into the courtyard. “So’s, you, you swing yer leg over, like so,” he said, demonstrating, “and yer, yer skirts and things, they’d fall t’ either side, only it don’t work with hoops,” he added, before flushing heavily and clearing his throat. “And you sets it straight up, and take a seat, and put yer foot on the top pedal so’s you can push off, like.”
“Ah!,” Zipporah replied, slipping her arm through Arabella’s as they watched. “So you do not need a platform, then. It looks far simpler than getting on a horse,” she added. “And the women, they do not sit to the side? They sit as the men do?”
"That seems uncomfortable," Arabella considered, but she watched as avidly as Zipporah as the boy demonstrated how to kick off and pedal. He seemed to try to keep it slow and show off the technique and mechanisms, but in only a few moments he'd picked up speed, and Arabella admired the efficiency of his movements.
"It is very fast, isn't it? I wonder what happens when you run into something or fall over." It seemed nearly unavoidable, rushing at that speed. Raising her voice to address the boy on the bicycle, Arabella asked, "Is it faster than a hansom cab on the road?"
“In th’ city, near as fast, and don’t get as stuck in the traffic,” he replied, pulling up to them and stopping with a smart turn of the wheel and an application of his shoe to the pavement. “Some of th’ businesses been using ‘em for delivery of small things cause it’s more efficient, and these don’t have t’ be fed and watered besides,” he added.
“And you don’t hafta go all that fast,” he added, shrugging a little. “Once you got your balance, you can go bout as fast as a quick walk, easy, which makes it safe as houses.”
“Easy for you to say,” Zipporah replied back with a laugh, “riding these things all of the day. In trousers, even,” she added, grinning. “You do ride very well, though,” she continued with a tip of her chin, upon which the boy bloomed bright red and shrugged.
“Would you care for to try first?” Zipporah asked Arabella, “or should I?”
"You should," Arabella replied, and then changed her mind. "We both should. Would you want to ride one of the metal ones? If it is smoother and safer, that would be a better choice. Though I would like to take notes on how you find the experience," she admitted, changing her mind back again. "Which is difficult to do when simultaneously learning a new skill.
"It would be expensive to start," Arabella noted to Zipporah, who had less resources than Arabella, if a somewhat steadier income. "But as an investment, it would save cab fare, and convey you more quickly to those in need, if you were called on late at night. I wonder if it would discourage disreputable men from waylaying you, as well. Does that happen often? I imagine it must. Although you have Ach, of course." Her eyes widened as she realized the difficulty with that. "Would Ach be able to keep up?"
"It is an investment," said the shopkeeper who'd appeared behind them, and Arabella did not jump, quite, but she was startled, having thought their conversation relatively private, and something in her crackled like conductive metal against electricity, sharp and hot. She forced herself to calm before she turned, her heart still beating quickly.
The shopkeeper was talking obliviously on. "A bicycle saves time, and money, but more importantly, ladies: Freedom. You can have tea with your friends and still be home in time to..." His eyes darted between the two of them, clearly caught between 'make dinner' and 'eat dinner' given their stations, and settled on, "...enjoy dinner, or make a quick trip to the market before dark. You can tie a basket on to carry your goods, it's quite a relief for your muscles, as well. Let the machine do the work for you!"
Zipporah felt a small prickle on the back of her neck, and she noticed that the boy shivered a little as the shopkeeper jumped in unexpectedly.
It was no end of chilly in the dim little courtyard. And the shopkeeper’s voice was quite loud, echoing against the cobbles.
“I should like for to try one of the metal ones,” Zipporah replied to the shopkeeper, her chin commanding. “And what of repairs? I am no mechanic, and the pieces, they seem…” she frowned, digging for the words. “They seem unique, and not as if one could purchase in a hardware store.”
“Ah, it’s a hardy enough machine, but in the rare case attention is needed, we do repair on site,” he replied, jovially enough. “At a very reasonable cost, too. I shall give you a list of our pricing, if you should care to look it over, and I’ll fetch you one of the newer models to see how it treats you.”
Zipporah hemmed a little as the man took his leave. “I am not sure about Ach,” she said, frowning a little. “Perhaps it is not so fast that he can follow on foot, or I may purchase one for him, as well. How often do they require repair?” She asked the boy, figuring he’d be a little more honest.
He grinned, and shrugged. “I recommend gettin’ em tuned up like every four month or so, to keep on top of things, and that ain’t much atall. I do that,” he added, with a pleased look, “and it’s only a half-shilling. If you do that regular, it don’t take much else to keep it goin.”
Arabella held out a hand for the bicycle, so that she and Zipporah could inspect it up close. "I think I would pay to see that," she admitted, with a little smile at the notion. "Ach on a bicycle. He would pedal so stoically. Would you like to try riding this one? Should I walk alongside, or..." Her gaze found the boy, who had dismounted when she hadn't been paying attention, which was unfortunate. "Should you walk alongside? What if she should fall, or overturn?"
“Beg pardon,” the boy said, flushing a little. “Course, I could walk alongside either one o’ you who wanted to go on, if you’d please.”
Zipporah raised an eyebrow, and stepped forward. “Come on, then,” she said, a little imperiously, to cover for her nervous excitement, “let us give it a go.” She looked over at him, biting her lip.
“You will hold it steady?” She asked, and he nodded back.
She gripped the handles, and swung her leg over the bar -- it was a little awkward to contend with coat, skirts, and petticoat, but they did manage to fall to either side without too much issue, and she found herself with both feet on either side of the wooden bar in the middle.
The boy shrugged. “You might try takin’ a set,” he said, “and sort of… walkin’ it about with your feet, to sort out balance some.”
The bicycle felt impossibly narrow -- ridiculous, that it could balance to begin with -- but she was reminded all of a sudden of a witch astride a broom, which made her grin and toss her head.
“Right,” she said, swallowing, and looking over at Arabella, “let us try.”
It was a decidedly odd sensation, walking while sitting, and trying to avoid the pedals without entirely being able to see them due to her skirts, and she managed a few awkward steps before shaking her head. “All in,” she said, and the boy darted in quickly to grab hold of the handlebars as she managed to find the pedals with her feet and took off with a decidedly unladylike whoop, the wheel wobbling madly.
Arabella clapped both hands over her mouth, and when she recovered she began to clap, muffled in her gloves but enthusiastic nonetheless. "Oh, you look marvelous," she announced, raising her voice so that Zipporah could hear her. "Do you know how to stop again?"
It was something she wouldn't have thought to ask, in Zipporah's place, but hopefully Zipporah would be able to receive some instruction from the boy jogging alongside her before such a course of action became especially critical.
Zipporah nearly toppled the bicycle as she turned to look over at Arabella -- the boy looked alarmed, but she managed to wrench the wheel back on course without over-correcting too badly.
“You c’n put yer foot down,” he called out, “if you want to stop, like.”
She managed to make a full circuit of the courtyard, and stuck a foot down, making a small ‘oof’ before looking over at Arabella triumphantly.
“Your turn,” she crowed, before looking at the boy. “Oh, do hold the bar as I get off?” She asked, grinning and laughing. “I should bring it all down otherwise. You did very well,” she added, upon which he turned a tomato red, and mumbled ‘likewise,’ but he did hold the handles steady as she swung her leg off the bar.
"You made it look so easy," Arabella marveled, although she hung back still, a little worried at how brave and graceful Zipporah was, which Arabella was not. She nearly said that she didn't think she could do it, but she'd been the one to bring them here, to ask Zipporah, and Zipporah had managed it. Arabella would just have to do her best.
She reached out gingerly for the handle, as though it were a snake in the garden, but it didn't bite her. It was only wood, nothing to distress or burn her at all, and she carefully swung her leg astride as Zipporah and the boy had, her cheeks burning hot at the implication of it. She stood awkwardly over the bicycle frame, gripping both handles so tightly her knuckles must have been white beneath the gloves, and found that she could not make herself sit.
I don't think I can do it, she thought again, but Zipporah had, and Zipporah was a women's healer, so she would know if anything would be harmful. Arabella eased back gingerly onto the bicycle seat, not letting it take her weight for a moment before she finally gave in and sat, lifting a foot at once to the pedal.
"Oh, this is strange," she marveled, and forgot completely to walk about first, trying instead to simply take a step with her foot on the pedal. The pedal moved, the wheels rolled, and Arabella made a startled bird's squawk but caught herself with her other foot, hopping awkwardly along one-footed until the boy's anxious, excited coaching made it through to her and she kicked off with determination, wobbling and tilting all the way but rescued by her sense of balance and quick, darting saves by the boy at her side.
She did not make nearly such a good show of it as Zipporah had, but after she stopped and put her feet down, she said, "Again," and this time it was easier and she knew what to expect, and had decided that she would practice until she could move fluidly and without nearly running anyone over.
"Here's that other, solid steel," the voice of the shopkeeper rang out pleasantly, and Arabella dismounted in a startled series of hops and skips until she was clear of the bicycle, which had been rescued by the boy. She didn't know how or why the man kept surprising her. Perhaps she was just distracted. She looked at the bicycle he'd wheeled out for Zipporah, and drew back somewhat, behind the wooden bicycle she'd just left.
"Same parts, but much smoother to ride, safer, won't let you down and nearly impossible to break. have you tried the other? Go on, take a ride on this one, and see if you can feel the difference. They're making them all like this one nowadays, it's an improvement all around." The shopkeeper set the iron bicycle proudly in the courtyard for Zipporah, holding it out for her to take one of the handles.
“Oh! You did so well,” Zipporah called out to Arabella, flushed pink and pleased before turning back to the proprietor. “I shall, how do you say, ‘give it a spin’?”
The newer bicycle was an easier ride, or perhaps it was simply because it wasn’t her very first time, and between the two of them, they each managed a few more circuits around the courtyard, less wobbly each time, although Arabella very nearly pitched clean over the handlebars when she stopped too suddenly once, and Zipporah ran over the boy’s toes, which he seemed to take with reasonably good humor, all told.
Zipporah was feeling particularly solvent -- she’d received a more-than-generous bonus from Chiara, and wanted to spend it on something frivolous -- something that made her feel a little wild, and indulgent, and free, and this seemed to fit the bill.
"If you're buying one, I shall buy one," Arabella decided, having weighed the benefits against the hassle while she watched Zipporah ride her last ring around the courtyard. "I don't go out often, but I might if I didn't need to call for a cab, and this way we could ride together. I could put books in a basket when I go to the libraries, or to the Institute. I think Mr Green, the librarian, might find it marvelous. I shall have to figure out what to do with it upon arrival, though."
She considered before speaking, hoping she did not give offense. People tended not to like to think about money. "I hope I'm not asking you to spend above your means. I would not be a kind friend to do so."
“I will buy,” Zipporah replied, pleased. “And it is an investment,” she added, “one I think would be all sorts of useful. And exciting,” she added, with a happy grin. She shrugged. “I can afford it. This year has been a very good year. We could ride to a park, and have picnics, once it gets warmer,” she added, “or go on tours of the countryside all of the day. I think it is very… practical,” she added, knowing that would appeal to Arabella more than anything.
“What will you name your steed?” She added, with a laugh. “We ought to, you know. And you already know what I shall name mine.” She paused. “I shall have to see if I made any drawings of Ophanim after I came here. I think I may have. If I have, I shall be sure to show you. They are not very good,” she added, unapologetically, “for I am no artist.”
"I would still want to see them," Arabella assured her. "Or you can draw new ones. I think I will call mine Doúreios Híppos, after the wooden horse sent into Troy, for it is an all-wooden horse to carry me in a way no man would expect."
Arabella looked at the bicycles, and then at Zipporah. "We could ride them back," she suggested, feeling more than a little mischievous for the suggestion. "To get more practice. I would ride with you, and we could see if Ach is able to try."
“Let’s,” Zipporah replied, the flash of pleasure in the corner of Arabella’s mouth making the entire enterprise more than worthwhile. She had no idea how they’d both fit on Arabella’s bicycle, but figured that with enough determination, they’d manage. “Ach can go before, to make certain for to clear the way, and I shall shout and raise my fist if anyone tries for to run us off of the road.”
She gripped the handles of her bicycle -- already thinking of it as hers, her chariot, and couldn’t help but feel a burst of light in her breast, and wheeled the cycle over to Arabella to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you,” she said, beyond pleased. “You have the very best of ideas, and this one was particularly inspired.”
Arabella reached out to press Zipporah's hand. "It is better, having a friend," she answered. "I am glad you're here."
She took her bicycle from the boy then with proprietary pride, the image of Zipporah raising her fist and shouting putting a glint into her eye. "If anyone gives us any trouble, from now on, we may run them off the road," she suggested. "And we may not have cigarettes, but you can practice your swears on the ride."