open to all;

[theliar]

✿ how it works ✿


✿ Comment with one of your muses.
✿ Specify which muse you want of mine from THIS LIST. If you don't specify, I'll choose one for you!
✿ Set up a scene or prompt (song lyrics, a photo, a quote, etc). If you are lost for ideas, try PLOT PUNTER to generate an idea! Or just leave it blank and up to me.
✿ Profit! Tags will be slower than my game tags probably, so we'll probably backtag into forever. And if that's fine with you it's fine with me!

Comments

MYKA

[needleworking]

[ She strikes him with some sort of lightning on their first meeting. Aramis woke up delirious and confused laying among shelves. Her and the man he now knows as Peter charged in with strange looking devices and even stranger looks on their face. The two of them yelled quite loudly at each other before striking him where he stood with lightning. He's never been struck by lightning before. He's been shot and stabbed, but lightning is a whole new experience for him. One that he's fairly certain he doesn't like.

After that rather awkward introduction they proceed to strip him of his sword and tie him to a chair. Their clothes are strange and immediately foreign to Aramis. The fashion isn't one that he's familiar with. He's been in the presence of royalty since joining the Musketeers, but this fashion is quite different. Very--progressive one would say. He's not one to outright judge though. They become far more hospitable and even go so far as to present him with lodgings for as long as he likes once they actually formulate some sort of idea as to how he even inside their home. The--Warehouse.

They've explained what's happened in great detail, but none of it actually seems to make much sense to Aramis. Time travel? The concept is silly and preposterous even when explained by the young one they call Claudia. It took some time for Aramis to truly accept that perhaps he had indeed somehow gotten himself tangled up in the future. If Athos could only see him now. He'd no doubt have the most sour look on his face.

He finds he prefers Myka's company and sometimes Stephen's as well. Peter makes him laugh, but he finds that he becomes rather exhausting after long periods of time. Claudia talks far too fast for Aramis to understand and in such a manner that simply goes right over his head. He's been here for days already. Every two to three days Aramis wakes to wash the clothes he arrived here in. Peter has offered to lend him his own garments, but he doesn't believe he likes most of them. Arthur has been kind enough to let Aramis wear his sword indoors. Something he's grateful for. It makes him feel safer and perhaps more at home with his strange surroundings.

There's a soft knock at Myka's door. ] Milady, may I come in?

[thedetails]

[ At first, it had been an exciting adventure. A beloved fictional character - beloved to Myka, at the least, since Artie seemed less than amused by the whole situation, Claudia was alarmed, Steve was confused and Pete just didn't have any idea what was going on. Myka, though. Myka felt like she had found a treasure, as she often did when her experience at the Warehouse caused a piece of literature to come to life. Especially when that piece of literature was not trying to kill her.

But the thrill began to die down when the realization sank in that whatever brought Aramas there might be out of their grasp. He'd showed up in a really obscure area of the Mongol Empire, which hadn't made any sense in of itself; and asking him if he'd come in contact with anything old-timey proved to be the most obvious of useless questions. Not that it had stopped Pete from asking.

Once they had gooed everything on his person, it had fallen into Myka's responsibility to find out what had happened. She started with the most obvious options - the Corsican Vest, which had nothing to do with anything; Alexandre Dumas' inkwell, which, come to find out, wasn't an artifact at all; and even a shot in the dark at the Mazeppa Saddle, which Claudia eventually tracked down in Nice, and gave the user great confidence. Confidence to the point that taking off your clothes in public sounded like a great idea, which Pete found out the hard way.

In the end, Myka was left back at square one. She returned to digging through the Warehouse itself, and more specifically, carefully studying the first edition of Les Trois Mousquetaires the Warehouse had, and scouring any history she could find of Alexandre Dumas and the history of Musketeers, hoping to come up with anything that might return Aramis home. He himself seemed to be settling in as well as could be expected, living in the B&B and becoming Myka's shadow; at least, when he wasn't spending time with Steve or being confused by Pete. She didn't really mind the company, but she did mind the fact that she couldn't solve the mystery.

For the moment, she was curled up on her bed, first edition of the Three Musketeers in one hand and a half-eaten twizzler in the other. The knock startled her and she lifted her head, clearing her throat. ] Uh, yeah, come in. And really, just... Just Myka.

[needleworking]

[ It's incredibly strange to Aramis how much she seems to know about his life and his whole world. Though no stranger than finding yourself in the future with devices and people that make little to no sense to you at all. If Athos would here he would have already formulated some sort of plan to get them home or at the very least offended Myka in half a dozen different ways. He's never been particularly good with the fairer sex. Even Porthos has more luck and he tends to stick his foot into his mouth more times than he succeeds. Athos always finds new and interesting ways to offend the women of Paris. If Aramis didn't know him any better than he would think it was some sort of a game to his old friend.

She allows him entry into her bedroom and he proceeds to enter as she continues to speak. He nods simply when she insists he call her Myka. He'll abide by her rules. He does find the lack of knocking when entering a bedroom not your own little strange, but he's going to just put that on the time difference. Things seemed to have progressed in quite a strange fashion. ] Of course. [ Aramis approaches a chair and sits. He makes no attempt to come closer to her bed to see what she's reading. He doesn't wish to invade her space or get a closer look at the red thing in her empty hand. ] Are you making much progress?

[thedetails]

[ Myka closes the book, having decided an hour ago that she'd had enough for the night and simply continuing on out of obligation. The truth is, she is exhausted, knows more now about Alexander Dumas and Musketeers than most literary experts, and still has no idea what artifact had brought Aramis to life. She is at a complete loss. ]

A little. [ A swift lie and she shuts the book, pushing it onto her nightstand and shoving the rest of her treat in her mouth. She picks up the bag and fiddles with it between the pads of her fingertips. Maybe she needs to start over, look at this from another angle. Start again at the Mongol Empire section and go from there.

Tomorrow, though. Tonight, she really needs a rest. ]

How are you settling it? [ She peels another twizzler from the package before extending her hand over the bed. ] You want one?

[needleworking]

Very good.

[ She gives him hope that perhaps he'll be able to return home. Not that he's overly anxious. As disorienting as this adventure has been there are parts of Aramis that need to experience what the future will bring. Especially if he won't be alive to see it. He truly believes if anyone will find a way to send him home it will be Myka. Her intelligence makes Aramis a little weak in the knees. ]

As well as can be expected I suppose.

[ He furrows his brows at the red thing being offered to him. ]

What exactly is it?

[thedetails]

[ If Myka knew the kind of faith he had in her, it would probably make her nervous. It was easier for her to just concentrate on the issues at hand, keep her goal in mind and try to not get distracted by anything else. That also included Aramis, which was something she remembered when she looked up at him and smiled nervously. ]

It's candy. Soft, kind of like licorice but it tastes like cherry.

[ She moved it closer to him, waving the red candy in his face. ] Try it.