ikissdhimbck | OOM: Down in the East Texas Town of Galveston... -- 1888 -- for X-23

"It is work to stay still, too," X offers, after a moment.

She accompanies this with a gentle shove to Kate's shoulder.

Shortly after that it proves difficult not to give a street barker a short, sharp stare.

Personal space is important. So is the ability to keep her arms free in case of trouble.

At least he's only silenced for a minute or two?

Kate laughs.

It's not all that polite, even in a big city, for a young single woman to lose her composure in such a fashion — and at someone else's expense, at that. But you can hardly blame her. The gentleman shrinks like a delicate flower in a noonday blaze.

Kate gives X a nudge in return, feeling light in spirit at the joviality and still caught in the post-brawl high.

"Is that what you're doin' right now? Keepin' still?"

"When I am not traveling," X says, matter-of-factly.

Then, voice softer and a little hesitant --

"I like being able to do both. When I want."

The change in tone makes her pause.

Lips twitching, she nods once.

"S'good t'make your own decisions."

To be her own woman.

Her shoulder gently bumps X's, and as they turn the last bend they come upon a decent-sized park to one end of the way, and exhibition halls and tents to the other.

"What d'you fancy 'bout a fair?"

X carefully bumps into Kate in return, then gazes out over the fairgrounds themselves.

It will take her a few seconds. Or maybe a minute.

"I like the people. They are interesting."

A pause as X turns to Kate.

"There are things that you like?"

She nods consideringly.

"Saltwater taffy."

She's a bit of a people watcher as well. Has been, even before life events made it necessary for survival.

She smiles freely, and nods in the direction of a few booths.

"C'mon."

X does not quite frown.

"I do not know what that is."

But if Kate likes it, it's probably pretty good.

She follows her friend over to the tightly-clustered series of booths, head tilting to follow a sudden stampede of racing children -- in noise if not in actual number -- followed by a much-vexed older sister.

Hopefully no one gets lost.

The only casualty is a fine cap, which the sister scoops up and dusts off, calling after the boy who lost it.

"Hopefully you're in for a treat, in that case."

She finds her quarry, paying twenty-five cents for a very reasonable portion of taffy for them both to share. There are no fancy neon colors, no designs or swirls. But there are a variety of flavors, from vanilla to peppermint, molasses and fruit.

She holds the brown paper cone they came in out to X, letting her choose one to try.

X leans over a little, scenting the air over the taffy carefully. Just to know what she is getting herself in for.

Then she reaches out to select a piece of vanilla-smelling taffy, putting it in her mouth and starting to chew.

And chew.

And chew.

It doesn't taste unpleasant, however, so she keeps at it while she waits for Kate to choose a piece.

Kate does so, opting for the plain saltwater taffy. She's grinning around her mouthful, watching X studiously chew.

"It's a bit sticky."

Pre-warnings? Who needs those?

"S'posed t'be."

(It's more fun this way.)

"What d'you think?"

"I like it," X declares, once she's finished chewing. And swallowing.

Twice.

Of course, that liking has more to do with the circumstances, the company, and the fact that Kate likes it -- but X is that way about a lot of things.

"Vanilla is good."

Kate chuckles lowly, moving away from the small crowd of children.

"Try one'a the molasses ones. I think you'll like it."

She'll also be sure to find X something to drink — to aid her in her troubles swallowing the confections.

Without any clear agenda, she moseys toward the exhibit halls, past tents that promise wonders that will delight and astound. Younger folk hang around the more bizarre and astounding sights, while a more mixed crowd heads toward the halls where more of their world's technological advances are on display.

It is a time of science and industry.

"Okay."

X tries really hard not to look dubious, and by the time she's halfway through chewing the molasses candy, she even succeeds!

She catches a glance here and there of signs declaiming horrific sights, grotesques, and disfigured beasties. Some others talk about men and women of foreign lands.

X, however, keeps glancing toward the halls. She's curious about what Kate's world is like, and what sort of advances count as current, here.

(Plus she gets enough gawking at mutants at home.)

Current advances here include the subject of trade cards not unlike this one, as laid out in one of the first booths they come across.

Well, Kate did promise to find her something to drink. What better than the nation's newest soft drink?

A good portion of the displays are for farm equipment, big industrial machines, and tools for the burgeoning 'office job'. There's a pavilion not far removed with electric lighting strung up, despite the daylight hour. Building plans are on display, while folk discuss the fine new medical school they plan to install and the greenery for Texas' first golf course.

X appreciates the root beer in a very transparent way.

Though, after a quick glance at Kate and what her friend might be interested in, X makes her way toward the big industrial machines.

They are interesting. And she is curious as to how they are different from what she knows.

The golf courses are less relevant.

It's the era of levers, fuel, and cogs; the cusp of the electric revolution, where simple buttons and keypads have not been finessed to the point of everyday use they likely have in X's world.

Stentors stand by and explain easy features, "Modern Conveniences!", and the coming world of Tomorrow.

One particularly interesting exhibit is on German inventor Gottlieb Daimler's gas-powered 'motorcycle'. An earlier model developed over two decades previous by Sylvester Howard Roper is on display (coal-powered, two-cylinder, steam-driven), while the mostly wooden gas-powered replacement is shown in grainy photographs, blueprints, and sketches. Though, one of its iron-banded wheels — with wooden spokes — is on display.

It's a bone-crunching monster of a vehicle, powered by a single-cylinder engine. The crowd oohs and ahhs.

X's attention seems caught by the 'motorcycle'.

She has one of her own, after all.

And the steam-driven technology is particularly interesting, as it is not something she has much experience with.

(And one can never tell when the next world-skip will drop one into a steampunk-flavored universe. For instance.)

"We are not allowed to look closely?"

Edited 2013-04-02 01:08 (UTC)

The demonstrator starts the engine to the appropriate gasps from the rapt audience.

"I'm sure y'can look all y'want."

Kate chuckles.

"They might even let y'touch."

Sure enough, one particularly curious gentleman has approached, and he and the demonstrator hold a jovial conversation about how the two machines will differ.

X slips in behind the curious gentleman, gaze intent.

She's listening to their conversation, too, of course.

But it will be better not to ask questions until she is sure which are the wrong ones.

The past is a different country, after all.

And this is Kate's world.

" ... has what they're calling the 'Otto Cycle Engine'. It's a Four-Stroke Internal-Combustion Engine. It's small, lightweight, fast; it uses a gasoline-injected carburetor, and has this vertical cylinder. Let me tell you, brother, the size, speed, and efficiency of this engine's gonna change the world. Have you heard of what it's done to carriages as we know 'em?"

"It sounds mighty fancy, and no mistake," the gentleman chuckles. "And judgin' by the pictures will look smarter than this steam-driven velocipede. I just ain't convinced it's a safe way to travel."

The 'motorcycle' hisses. Nearby, there's a sandwich board advertisement for the machine they've got on display, as well as several pictures of the gas-driven contraption, which looks a little something like this.

"Couldn't be safer, my friend! Couldn't be safer. This little beauty can take you up to sixty-four kilometers per hour! Imagine what this new 'Otto Cycle Engine' can do. Imagine the time you'll save!"

Steam drizzles from the pipe off the back end of the 'velocipede'.

X studies the vehicle as the man continues his spiel. She moves away a few steps, giving herself a better vantage point, then presses back in.

"It is very heavy?"

Call a girl curious.

He could at that, not to mention that a lady wearing britches catches the eye. Along with that duster, that hat, and them boots.

At least it gives him the good sense not to make any remarks on how it'd be far too heavy for a lady to handle on her own, but only as the absence of skirts usually tells tale of an abundance of spirit.

(And nobody wants to get shot today.)

"She's gonna be heavier than your average bicycle, yes ma'am. But even this old gal's been made for comfort; this here steam engine is lightweight, precision design distributin' her weight just right so she ain't gonna be unwieldy."

X tilts her head, considering the contraption in front of her.

"It would not be rideable?"

Beat.

"If the engine were heavier."

"Oh-ho, surely, Little Miss! Just take a gander here."

He motions to the drawings and blueprints for the modern velocipede, the boiler replaced with a real engine. It's thicker than what they have on the showroom floor, sturdier, and that engine is heavier.

"You can ride both of these gals just fine, miss, but if you're hopin' for speed then you're not gonna want to be weighted down, now are you?"

X leans over to better view the blueprints, frowning a little as she looks them over.

But at last --

"No. That is accurate."

Beat.

"I like maneuverability."

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