ikissdhimbck | OOM: Kate Barlow | Mireille & Hildegard -- Texas, 1888

Entry tags:

OOM: Kate Barlow | Mireille & Hildegard -- Texas, 1888

Things are going her way.

It's enough to make her nervous.

She's superstitious in her own way, but it don't take soothsayers and bad portents to predict that someone with Kate's kind of luck, reputation, and price on her head is soon for a bad turn. Oakville went real smooth with Ace Lehane on her hip. She stayed for some time, and found two more able-bodied men willing to make the trek to Cuero.

Well.

Able-bodied enough. Texas may be suffering drought, but there are plenty of fish to be found in the local saloons, weathered lips wrapped around a bottle. It don't make no never mind to Kate, so long as they know what they're doing.

(And she's made it clear their vices won't be affecting the job, or else.)

She left them with three weeks to get their affairs in order and meet her in Yorktown. A date, a time, and the name of the place she'll be; that's all she gave. The boy said he could arrange for some ponies, and she's entrusted that responsibility to him. There's still one more stop she's got to make on that count, and she'd rather do it alone.

She cuts the same trail she took a month ago — or a year ago, factoring in all the time at Milliways — heading north past Beeville and bypassing Kenedy, heading toward Cuero. It's empty land out this way, mostly desert save for the one river that feeds the cities. Nothing much changes.

It's odd, then, to see the brand new crater in the earth.

Beaut whinnies, starting from a trot to a canter.

"Whoa! What's the matter, darlin'?"

She gently pulls the horse to a stop despite her protests, and walks her in a slow circle. Bobbing her head and pulling at her reins, Beaut's sides heave under Kate's thighs. She frowns, patting her neck until she manages to calm down.

It is strange. It looks like something big made an impact and dragged away toward the river.

"Okay. S'okay. We're jus' gonna see what that's about, sweetheart. S'all gonna be all right."

Beaut's less than convinced, but walks ahead at Kate's gentle prompting, following the strange tracks down to a shallow gully cozied right up to the river's edge.

There are bones. Lots of bones. Mostly cattle, by the looks of it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It’s quiet, by the river. She likes quiet; no need to worry about strange men, no need to explain her limitations or her missing hand. Company would be nice, and she misses her home, she misses her purpose, she misses Weyland--but she’s got Hildegard here to tend to, and that’s something.

They’d built their little shelter together, Hildegard fetching branches from the small trees along the river and holding them in place while Mireille secured them as best she could. It keeps the sun off, it gives her somewhere to feel is hers, but it really isn’t anything. There’s no heart to it, no life, just two mechanical creatures doing the best they can.

Hildegard is resting in the shelter, avoiding the midday heat, while Mireille is down at the river in only her slip, washing the dust and the flecks of Hildegard’s last meal off her dress. It’s slow going with just one hand, but she’s doing what she can.

Like she always does.

After a while, Beaut decides she's been amenable enough. She plants her hooves with a petulant whinny, tossing her head with a threat to rear.

"All right, all right!"

Kate's hand is gentle, soothing. She slips down from the saddle, keeping her reins, humming the way she does when Beaut's been spooked by a rattler. But whatever this is, it's bigger than any snake.

She sees the shelter, but from the backside. If anything's in it, it doesn't seem bothered by Beaut's presence. No doubt her whinnying has carried. Kate guides her slowly, approaching the makeshift dwelling. Something catches her eye.

Coming into view, a few yards down in the river, is the silhouette of a woman. Kate squints against the glimmering water.

"Ho there!"

She hopes whoever it is happens to be friendly.

(But her free hand rests on the butt of her gun, just in case she's not.)

She is startled by the voice--she hadn’t expected anybody to be out here, so far away from everything. But at least it’s a woman’s voice, so that’s less reason to worry and--

She recognizes that voice.

Hauling her half-washed, waterlogged dress with her, she stands and turns, looking up the hill a ways.

Can it be...?

She doesn’t dream, but for a moment she wonders whether she could be right now.

There's something unmistakably familiar about the figure.

It isn't just the sun or the moving river, it's Texas. Her home. The one place she has that isn't connected to anything or anyone else in all the worlds in all the universes. The only people she knows come with her, through her door, so how could it be — ?

"Mireille?"

No. It must be a mistake.

She takes another few steps closer, wheedling the distance out of Beaut. It must just be someone who looks like her, blonde hair, slight, wearing — no, the dress in her hands, she's seen it before. And not in any nineteenth century store window.

Is she dreaming?

Hallucinating?

Mireille is — lost. Dead? She can't be here.

Kate rushes to her regardless.

Mireille hurries up the riverbank; it’s not the easiest thing, keeping her footing on ground like this, especially when barefoot, especially when being disproportionately heavy thanks to being made of metal. But she only stumbles a little.

She doesn’t know where she is. All she knows is that suddenly she was here. But it starts to make sense to her--that night, when Weyland had disappeared, when she had lost her hand, she’d been wishing more than anything else that she could’ve gone to visit Kate back when they’d planned to.

Apparently she did. That’s where she is.

In all honesty, encountering Weyland here would have made her only the tiniest bit happier than seeing Kate does right now. Her joy shows plainly on her face.

There's no mistaking it now.

"Mireille!"

She leaves her mount at the bank and runs through ankle-deep water to meet her, stopping only when she has her in her arms. She's overjoyed, and relieved, smile threatening to split her face.

"Is it really you? But how?"

She cups the mechanical woman's cheeks like a doting mother, eyes brimming with tears. She had been so worried. Despite all of Weyland's assurances, finding her again looked bleak. But here she is, miraculously, and she can't help but feel moved.

She wishes she could speak.

But even if she could, it’s not like she even knows how she got here. It had just happened, but she is grateful to have been found. And not found by just anyone, but by probably the best friend she’s ever had.

She gives a light, apologetic shrug by way of an answer, but then realizes that maybe she can offer at least a partial explanation. She gestures toward the shelter and the napping Hildegard, with her handkerchief-wrapped left wrist.

Hildegard had brought her here. Or at the very least, they’d ended up here together.

Kate wipes the tears from her eyes, laughing quietly as she spies the golden eagle. No wonder Beaut had been acting so finicky; though, she wonders how she sensed the glorious mechanical bird.

"Hildegard."

Her focus dips back to Mireille, this time landing on her left wrist. The whole hand is missing. Her fingers gently touch her forearm, and everything that transpired the day she went missing rushes back to her.

"Weyland's safe."

Her voice is hurried. She doesn't know how long Mireille and Hildegard have been here by themselves, or how they ended up here, but if what Weyland said was true — their world has been ripped apart at the seams, and all has come to nothing — then Mireille must be worried about him.

"He managed t'make it t'the bar. With your hand."

Weyland.

She’s been worried, so worried about him--who would take care of him, without her around? Who would bring him food while he’s working, who would be there for him when he’s brooding about something? What if whatever had happened had--

But she’d never let herself even think about the possibility that something bad might’ve happened to him. If she never thought it, it wouldn’t happen.

And so it hadn’t. And he’s safe, and he has her hand, and he can repair her.

Everything will be fine. She has complete faith in him... and in Kate, who might need her help in the meantime. She may be slower, with her injury, but she can certainly help where she’s needed.

She's watching Mireille's face carefully, giving her time to absorb it all before continuing.

"He told me 'bout what happened. What happened with your world, an' all the awful things y'must've been through. But he's been workin' all this time t'get you back. T'get your world back. An' — a lot's happened, but he's well. I've been keepin' an eye on him, an' he's well."

She smiles to see the relief on the mechanical woman's face. Just seeing her face does Kate's heart so much good. She'd been devastated at losing her.

"Oh! An' I have your bracelet. The one y'was wearin' when it all happened. I've got it tucked away someplace safe back in Milliways. Oh, but y'can't visit Milliways, can you?"

She'd almost forgotten. How is she going to get her back?

"Well, let's not worry 'bout that jus' yet. Are you all right? Aside from the obvious, I mean. Is everythin' okay?"

She hadn’t even thought about the bracelet. But it pleases her, to think that her friend would keep it safe for her, trusting that one day she’d be found.

Weyland can make portals. Maybe she can’t go to Milliways, but surely he can come here, and make a portal to... wherever it is he would go that isn’t Milliways. He will fix things, somehow.

She nods, to the question about being okay. Well, it’s been lonely, and worrying; but overall, aside from her hand she is fine. The only thing is... what does she do now, now that she has been found?

She looks to Hildegard and back to Kate again, questioning.

It's been years since she's had to read Mireille's expressions, but she hasn't forgotten.

"S'all right."

She holds her gently by the shoulders.

"I've found you. The two of you are gonna be jus' fine. All we gotta do is figure out a way t'get you back t'Weyland, an' that's jus' as easy as me findin' a door. In the meantime, I'm gonna keep you safe."

And that is a solemn promise.

And Hildegard.

She complicates things--well, she’s loyal, she’s beautiful, she’s something from home. But where Mireille could go into a town--not that she would alone, of course; she doesn’t know the people here, doesn’t know what might happen to her--Hildegard can’t. She can’t blend in anywhere, she can only hide.

But Kate will keep them both safe. This is her world; she knows the people here, she can do something. Maybe she knows of somewhere--somewhere with a building, so they won’t have to stay outside exposed to the elements, but somewhere secluded enough that she won’t have to worry about strangers giving her trouble.

As if reading her thoughts, Kate nods. Her mind is already working through the shock of seeing them here, and formulating ways of getting them out all right. She smiles wanly, and gestures to her left wrist.

"Can I redress that for you?"

She holds it up, with a grateful, nervous little smile.

It’s not on very securely--it’s an awkward thing to do, to one’s own wrist--but she wanted to have it covered, in case someone else might happen to see her, and also to keep the dust out of her inner workings. It served well enough for that.

Underneath the clumsily-tied handkerchief, her wrist is a strange sight. Her arm looks like normal, living flesh up until the torn edge, where the illusion gives way and the tiny metal plates that make up her skin can be seen, in addition to the metal bones and muscle on the inside of her arm.

All in all, the injury looks halfway between cut and torn, like her arm had been stretched and under quite a bit of tension when something came down to sever it.

But it doesn’t hurt her.

Kate leads her up the bank a ways, heading for someplace drier where they can sit. Beaut has no intentions of following after them, so long as the metal giant is still there, but has no qualms with grazing what vegetation she can find. Kate snags a blanket from her saddle, and offers it to Mireille.

As they broach the shadow of the shelter, Hildegard cracks open an eye and decides, perhaps remembering Kate, that there's nothing to be fussed over. Kate's lips twist wryly as she drifts back to sleep. She's glad to see her, too.

"D'you know how long you've been here?"

She carefully unwraps Mireille's arm once they're settled. It's unnerving, but nothing worse than the half-finished mechanical horse Kate has been minding back in Milliways for Weyland. She swallows, untying the neck rag she'd been wearing to use as clean dressing. Not that Mireille is or has been bleeding, but she's not sure how long she's been using the same rag. Besides, it'll give her a little more color.

She has no idea how long it’s been. It’s been a haze of days--finding this place and building their little shelter, riding along with Hildegard at night when she goes hunting (if something happens to her, it may as well happen to both of them, and she is not willing to be separated from her fellow creation), hiding from and watching the few passers-by on the road. But with nothing different to do with her time, with every day being more or less the same, she has lost count.

Numbers were never her strong point to begin with. She’s never had to count days before. She’s always had Weyland to anchor her life around.

But judging by the wear on her dress, and the amount of bones in the area, probably a couple of weeks.

She glances up from her busy work every now and then to gauge Mireille's expressions. Thinking back to when she last saw Weyland in the bar — that had been at least several weeks ago. Perhaps closer to a month. He'd been talking about such strange things in his quest to reclaim his world and his mistress; she wonders if Mireille could have known, or been affected by it.

(It strikes her, suddenly, how similar the crater she rode by is to the one Weyland left in Milliways.)

"There. How's that?"

She has the neck rag tied into a neat bow around Mireille's left wrist. The fabric is checkered, a lovely red with a pale, pale blue.

"You're a bit taller'n I am, but your waist is slight. Y'might jus' fit into one of my fresh dresses, if you'd like a change of clothes."

She smiles, holding her arm up and turning it to get a look at Kate’s handiwork from all sides. It looks good, much better than she could do on her own, and she likes the colors. She used to have a dress that exact shade of blue, and Weyland had always liked red, so she likes red too. The dress she has with her here is red, in fact, for that very reason--it had been Weyland’s birthday, and he always liked her in it.

But though she may not know much of fashion, she knows enough to be able to tell that her dress isn’t really suited to being outdoors, not in this weather, not in the middle of nowhere. So while she doesn’t want to impose on Kate at all, maybe a different dress would be more in order.

If nothing else, then she’d have something other than just her slip to wear while doing her laundry.

She chuckles softly, brushing the woman's cheek with a tender hand.

"No need t'look sheepish 'bout it. I don't mind."

Leaving Hildegard to slumber, she leads Mireille back to where Beaut is standing, ears pinned back. The mare is justly agitated, and requires a good deal of coaxing before she'll let Kate hold her reins. Mireille has a choice between a fine blue dress or a pale yellow one, and as they go through her saddlebags Kate gently speaks.

"If I've got my bearin's right, there's a town not too awful far from here. With a li'l luck, we could probably find us a door. However, whereas you might blend in jus' fine, gettin' Hildegard through a town without raisin' eyebrows an' alarms could be a thorny affair.

"I was headin' north'a here to a ranch — the owner used t'be a good friend of mine. I've got some delicate business t'attend to, an' I was hopin' he'd give me someplace t'stay. Maybe Miss Bar'll open up a way from there, maybe she won't. But if he's got the kinda land I hear he does, it'd be someplace safe enough for Hildegard until we figure things out."

Brow furrowed, she touches Mireille's arm.

"What say you?"

She listens, glancing back toward Hildegard in the little shelter as she considers.

She’d like to be somewhere safer, more secure, maybe even with trusted people around--certainly better than hiding in a lean-to by a river--but getting there, that’s the problem. She could go with Kate and leave Hildegard to follow, after dark, but while she has no doubt Hildegard could track them, she doesn’t want to take any chances--what if they get separated? What if Weyland comes, and he can only find one of them? She won’t let him down. She’s the one who has to make the family decisions, while he’s away.

It’s not exactly easy for her, though.

So she does her best to convey, with gestures--drawing an imaginary box on the side of the saddlebag, imaginary lines on it to represent roads and rivers, a map. She’ll need to know where to go, and she can direct Hildegard.

But then the harder part--harder to convey this way, especially. She points to the spot on the invisible map that she has decided represents the ranch, and then mimes turning up a lamp.

Tell me where to go. And at night, you go outside with a lantern and wait for us. We will find you.

She watches her graceful hand move, imagining how frustrating it must be to be reduced to only one when it is her only means of communication. But she's practiced at it, for sure; Kate's reminded of a gentleman in Milliways who 'signs' in a like fashion.

It takes a little repetition, and a few questions for clarification, but eventually Kate gets the message. She pulls a map from another saddlebag, and shows Mireille where they are now in relation to Beeville, Yorktown, and of course John's ranch.

"Y'could follow me a ways, if you'd feel more comfortable. Hildegard can still bear you, can't she?"

What lies between them and the ranch is desert, uninhabited and unnoteworthy. She points to one spot in particular.

"Or else, if y'wait 'til dark, y'can meet me here. Just in case John says no. That'll give us time t'find someplace else where y'can stay. I hate the thought of you roughin' it in the desert."

She nods, studying the map--she may not be much use at reading or writing, but she can follow along with pictures well enough. And having seen the surrounding area from the air, riding along while Hildegard hunts, makes it even easier for her to connect the map with the terrain.

And if there’s nothing but desert on the way, well then, she and Hildegard can follow Kate even in daylight--Hildegard’s got good enough vision to spot potential trouble and get out of sight, and anyway if they’re up high enough there’s always the chance that anyone who does see them will just think they’re some kind of strange bird, and then put it out of their thoughts.

If there’s nothing but desert between here and the point Kate has marked as somewhere they can wait for her, then they can follow her there and find some sort of cover while she goes to make arrangements? Less chance of getting lost that way.

Or so she hopes.

She watches her expressions carefully, smiling when Mireille gives her an affirmative answer on Hildegard and following her part of the way.

"Good. T'be honest, I was already dreadin' leavin' you behind. If we start off fairly soon, it'll be a couple hours, but we should get there by sundown. I can ride in, talk t'John, tell 'im I need a place t'lay, me an' a friend, then come back out an' fetch you after dark. Hildegard can follow us overhead, hunker down somewhere in the back forty. Ah — if she gets hungry, though, she's gotta be careful 'bout pickin' off cows nobody'll miss right away."

Her lips twist. She sure wasn't expecting this. Why is it folk are stumbling out into her world now?

Maybe you aren't as alone as you think.

It's an interesting complication, anyhow. She won't let anything happen to Mireille now that she's been found, come hell or high water. The same goes for Hildegard. No matter what happens in Cuero, Kate will see to it she gets back to Weyland. For whatever reason she showed up here, now, she's in Kate's care. And she is so glad to see her alive and, for the most part, well.

To that effect, she closes the distance between them and hugs her again.

"I'm so happy you're here. I was so worried I'd never get t'see you again."

Edited 2012-11-13 05:40 (UTC)

She returns the hug--it’s good to be found, so good to be with her friend again. And even if she is a bit worried about how things will go with Hildegard, keeping her hidden and keeping her fed discreetly, she’s hopeful.

This will work out.

And she’ll get to have that visit with Kate, like she’d planned so long ago. It just took a while to happen, that’s all.

She hopes she’ll find some way to be useful while she’s here, though. She hates to impose--maybe she can help some with chores. She’s sure she can still cook and clean with one hand; it’ll just take her a little longer.

Kate eventually pulls back, with a self-deprecating chuckle and a remark about not fussing like an old hen. She very well might be wiping tears from her eyes again, but she's quick to launch into conversation focused on Mireille, catching her up on everything she's missed.

"C'mon, let's get y'freshened up."

She chose the yellow dress, which will look just lovely on her. And, once she's situated, they'll get Hildegard ready and head off. For now, there's a lot to tell her. And, as it just so happens, quite a lot of ways Mireille can find to be helpful.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OOM: Kate Barlow | Mireille & Hildegard -- Texas, 1888

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject