sadfreezingbrit_archive | One increasingly restless physicist in three settings [22/??? artefacts collected]

Entry tags:

One increasingly restless physicist in three settings [22/??? artefacts collected]

[ Philip's been in Wonderland for almost a year now. He's dedicated some time to the idea of meeting a romantic partner here, but that time was extremely limited to say the least. Fleeting thoughts that don't compare...

Fleeting thoughts that don't compare to this nagging feeling, that increasing restlessness he's been trying to ignore since yesterday. Talking to Dean and remembering what a good friend he's found in him somehow made things better, if only temporarily. Very temporarily. There is still-- ]

Christ, I look like a shoddy James Bond villain knock-off.

[ There is still so much missing, which is why this accidental video has been showing him trying on various outfits and muttering to himself for well over an hour now. Granted, having one arm still in a sling slows the process down considerably, but there's also the fact that he really isn't too sure which occasion he's so frantically trying to find an appropriate outfit for.

He tentatively holds two ties up to his (currently) white shirt. ]

That's not... not really saying hate me, more ignore me or bad Christmas present.

[ He groans and disappears from view, reappearing in outfit #491 some time later. ]

Okay. [ Adjusting dark blue trousers. ] Right. [ Straightening dark blue shirt. ] Good, that's-- [ Checking light blue tie. ] That's... [ Deep sigh. ] That's nonsense.

[ Ripping light blue tie off and tossing it away before plonking down on the bed. ]

It's complete and utter nonsense.

{ Don't beat yourself up, it's only marginally more ridiculous than the other human mating rituals I remember.

But um, if you wanna kick back and let old Clarence show you how it's done, I've got someone in mind already. Best plan too, trust me here, 'cause you ain't gonna score and we both know it... }

Look, just this once don't--

[ Whatever passionate statement Philip was about to make to "himself" is lost on his audience as the video feed cuts off at last. ]

- - - -

[ Philip's voice is heard again soon after that, though his final decision on what to wear will remain a mystery, at least during this brief (yet deliberate) audio transmission. ]

Um, is there-- We haven't got... someone like a barber here by any chance, do we?

[ Click! And that's it! ]

- - - -

[ ...Until later that day when Philip takes his troubling thoughts out for a walk on the beach for accidental and deliberate action encounters alike. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Light blue dress shirt. White pants. All the swag. All of it.

Alas, for somebody who takes time to adjust his hair while running from alien zombies Evelyn's assessment does not encourage and sounds almost too consoling to reassure.

Philip bites down his disappointment, reminding himself firmly that he did not actually come here to wow anyone with his appearance.

...And that he can always change into something else later. He forces a smile. ]

If you hadn't called I'd probably still be changing. I almost did before coming down, but... it's a bit [ He tilts his head to glance at the sling accessorising his look involuntarily. ] tricky these days.

[ Somewhere during this observation he allows himself to take a seat, vowing to stay strong and respectable in the face of booze offerings. ]

I'll just have the tea, thanks. [ He clears his throat. ] With a little rum, if you have it.

[ ...Well. So much for that. ]

[There is so much swagger here that the narration can hardly stand it.

In Evelyn's defence, she wasn't trying to be consoling so much as reassuring, seeing as her disclaimer can be attributed to a rather limited view of the future aside from the fact that there's going to be another world war and that young women are wearing fewer and fewer garments.

She refused to put on any of those garish dresses to parade about the mansion, so she can't be a reliable judge of what's "in."]

Of course.

[She nods at his arm, expression apologetic. Evelyn broke her arm as a child and understands the frustration of having a useless limb for any amount of time. It just. Really bites.]

...tea and rum?

[That's a new one. With a little laugh, she fetches it from the closet and settles at the table across from him, leaning in on folded arms.]

Are you going to mix them or have them separately?

What, you've never tried that?

[ Low alcoholic beverage proficiency is not something Philip is used to being met with, especially not in Wonderland. Here's to looking at you two, Mister Booze Hunter and Laudanum Boy.

He reaches for a slice of lemon and a bit of sugar (both of which an excellent hostess such as Evelyn undoubtedly prepared) and mixes them with a little rum before pouring tea into the cup and sliding the mixture across the table as an offering to Evelyn.

Clearly nobody should have to endure Wonderland sober for longer than absolutely necessary. ]

No, I haven't.

[Honestly? Evelyn's knowledge of alcohol is fairly limited. Men drink Scotch Whisky and Bourbon and rum. Sometimes beer. Women drink Brandy and wine. Occasionally, these stereotypes cross over to the other side. She is also fully aware that she has a tolerance of spirits very close to zero. At least, she did the last time she checked. Which was some party back in university. A while ago. Things might have changed between now and then.

She watches him fix the drink curiously. It seems a strange brew, but gin and tonic has created a pleasant mix before, and at the turn of the century everyone was drinking distillation of wormwood. What harm could sweetened tea and rum possibly be? It seems rather like a Hot Toddy.

Tentatively picking up the cup, she takes a wary sip and is pleasantly surprised.]

...this is quite good, actually. Where did you learn how to make it?

[Such alcoholic prowess! Mister Booze Hunter would be so proud.]

[ Philip leans on his elbow and ponders the origin of that particular piece of knowledge. ]

That was, erm...

[ He reaches for a second cup, hoping a repeat of the mixture will jog his memory. That and his own serving might just include a little more than the recommended quantity of rum.

Philip's own tolerance started off as a good average and has now - after steady and habitual increase combined with a certain sentient disease - reached levels that are quite bordering the inhuman.

He stirs the beverage and takes a sip, the taste bringing back a few memories. ]

A small pub near Canterbury. I think they called it Sailor's Tea and, um... a friend persuaded them to hand over the recipe.

[ It seems so simple a fix now, but back then the discovery was quite awe-inspiring. ]

[Somehow, Evelyn isn't surprised that the drink was concocted by sailors. It seems appropriate. It's also quite calming, which is what she needed, and her posture relaxes a little - she leans back in the chair and just thinks in the comfortable silence.

She doesn't make a habit of imbibing copious amounts of alcohol, because she'd rather not be one of those people, and maintaining a sterling reputation is hard enough without letting liquor and parties hold her back (See Fig. A, Jonathan Carnahan). But perhaps the occasional indulgence wouldn't be so bad, in good company.

After a couple of minutes simply enjoying the drink, Evelyn speaks.]

So.

[Ooh, half the cup gone. She feels quite content now. Always rather gregarious and interested in what others have to say, Evelyn presses gently for information.]

Tell me about yourself. Or...your hobbies, or anything you like. If you bring up my field of study, I'll never be still, so it's best you choose a subject of conversation lest I monopolize everything.

[Evie knows full well that she can get a bit...obnoxious...when it comes to Egyptology, because she has to be to get by. Continuous self-reminders to keep rambling in check: Get.

...did we mention that this drink is fantastic?]

And what if- [ Sip. Project moderation: Failing. First cup of tea: Gone. ] I really want to hear about your field of study?

[ He slowly pours himself another cup. Philip certainly seems just as eager to listen. And indeed, expanding his interests is one way to take part in the academic discourse he sometimes misses dearly.

...Of course listening also means he won't have to spin and maintain any half-truths, won't have to make sure to avoid unpleasant subjects on time. ]

...you do?

[Philip will have to excuse the abject surprise on Evelyn's face; this is, after all, a young woman who is constantly being told no. Very rarely does anyone want to subject themselves to her excited almost-lecturing. The favourable response is not what she was expecting, and appears to have taken her off-guard for a moment.]

I-

[She drums her fingers on the sides of her teacup thoughtfully before knocking the rest of it back and sliding it across the table to be refilled.]

What...exactly would you like to know, then?

[ Huh. All right. Um. Philip dutifully refills the cup while thinking this over.

With Egyptology knowledge that doesn't extend much further than a recent review of The Mummy he doesn't exactly have a good starting point for scientific inquiries.

Maybe personal history then. Until he finds a good opportunity to ~~fake~~ display more knowledge. ]

You said you were living in Egypt. That's quite a way from London.

[ The implicit question being of course what an early 20th Century place like Evelyn would do in a foreign girl like this. ]

Edited 2011-08-13 17:18 (UTC)

[Personal history it is, then. Evelyn takes another bracing sip of her "Sailor's Tea" and contemplates where to begin. Parents, right? Right.]

My father, Howard Carnahan, was an explorer and archaeologist of some renown. He spent so much time in Egypt that he married my mother, an Egyptian woman from Cairo. They had me, and my brother Jonathan.

[She would normally be afraid of coming off as dreadfully dull, but the alcohol is doing quite a bit to loosen her tongue...and her hand gestures. Remembering much more fortunate times appears to put her in a better mood, at any rate.]

We spent almost all of our holidays there, in Alexandria, or Karnak, or Aswan. I grew up learning hieroglyphs and reading about the ancient kings between sessions at preparatory school.

[Evelyn smiles into her cup.] I wanted very much to be like my father, but he always said I took after my mother more.

[ Parents. Right. Predictably enough her father Howard elicits an involuntary twitch at the corner of his mouth. This must be the kind of similarity normally good for a smile when pointed out in a normal conversation. Unfortunately the subject of his father Howard has a way of tainting conversations into a direction that is anything but normal.

No matter. Another sip of tea and the sentiment is forgotten soon enough. Philip's attention to Evelyn's story is quite genuine after all. ]

Then your expedition is a first step?

...something like that.

[She's quiet for a moment, recalling her reason for wanting to go out in search of Hamunaptra in the first place. Those damned Bembridge scholars and their damned particular rules. Evelyn wouldn't be surprised if they just came out and told her that their refusal to accept her application was due to her sex.]

It was supposed to be a step towards legitimate fieldwork. As you can probably imagine, women are not very highly regarded in the study of archaeology. [Sip.] ...I'd never been on an expedition before. It was my first one. No one would fund an excursion to a city founded on rumours and legends, so I funded it myself.

[Evelyn shrugs loosely, swirling her drink.]

I'm not- [She sits a little straighter.] I'm not the sort of person to be deterred by nay-sayers and...and Philistines, you know. There are plenty of things out there that can't be explained - it just takes a determined mind to uncover the truth.

[Aw, on her little soap-box. It isn't said defensively, but with the air of someone who's excited to share her opinions for once.]

Were not very highly regarded, we-- We've come a long way since the 20s, you know.

[ Cue encouraging, if slightly weak smile. Sadly this is a vision that can only be shared in words. ]

Being a woman in archaeology-- in- in any academic field today, it doesn't- it shouldn't hold you back anymore.

[ Philip may be suffering from a few blind spots on account of his Manliness^TM, but the general idea holds water. It does get better. ]

...But you're right. A determined mind can always go a long way and--

[ He swallows. ]

I hope you find what you're looking for.

[ Philip feels his throat tightening, his jaws clenching as he almost doesn't want to make that final wish.

He quickly takes another sip of tea. A little further down this path and he would have to think back to the time he sought to uncover the truth and succeeded... at a price. ]

Edited 2011-08-16 23:25 (UTC)

[As reassuring as it is to be told that gender stereotypes have been broken by the twenty-first century, Philip's less-than-enthusiastic delivery of the "good news" leaves much to be desired. Knowing is splendid and all, but she's still from 1926 and things won't have changed by the time she returns to her year.]

If I didn't know any better, Philip, [Evelyn treads cautiously.] I'd say you almost sound sad.

[Well-wishes are definitely worth more when one actually means them. Assuming Philip is as much of a private person as he seems, it might be better to leave the subject well enough alone. Evelyn looks down into her teacup apologetically, already feeling guilty about her accusation. She recovers with remarkable poise and a slightly-tipsy flourish.]

Dwelling on societal drawbacks is hardly festive fare, though...how are you doing? With your arm, and...and your eye?

[She dons an encouraging, slightly teasing smile. In her experience, lightening the weight of gloom and doom with a little good humour can work wonders.]

The patch looks quite dashing, you know.

[ The attempt at explaining his sadness is cut a little short by Evelyn's last comment. ]

Dashing, really? [ He laughs. ] That... is a new one.

[ So flattered. ♥ ]

Now I might just have to make up an exciting story to go with it, otherwise it can't live up to its glamour.

[ Aahahaha haahaha haha ha. God. ]

{ Just make sure you jot it all down in your notebook, might not be able to keep all the glamorous stories straight otherwise. }

[ All the internal cringing ever. BUT! There was a question. Philip clears his throat. ]

It's, er... better, thank you. It's better. [ He taps his temple next to the patch once. ] I hardly even notice the difference anymore.

[ Which is true enough, apart from a few forlorn looks into the mirror every now and then.

...Just as long as you don't get him started on the lack of progress that damn arm's been making. ]

[She almost considers asking about the real reason behind the half-blindness, but thinks better of it. Pretending that there's a glamorous cause seems a little silly, particularly when he claims to have fallen down some stairs, but pressing someone about a disfiguring accident? Not even Evelyn is that tactless.]

That's good. I was worried about you.

[What with the depressing, mood-killing turn their last conversation had taken.

Nothing seems quite so depressing now, but this could be attributed to the alcohol. Evie finishes her second cup, resting one arm on the table and her cheek in her hand. She grins.]

Has anyone been stalking you for this event, then, or am I just a lucky duck?

[Because the best subject to turn to is how to cope with the quadrants. The liquor is surprisingly helpful.]

You- you were?

[ That sure is a nice thing to hea-- whoa there, tone down the smile! Philip stops himself just before his grin grows too wide. Right. He forgot about that little event detail.

It was a nice gesture, not a ~nice gesture~, but have a pleasant conversation that lasts long enough and suddenly Unchained Melody practically starts playing in the background.

Right. Right. Next question. ]

Err... no, actually. I've been stalker-free so far. I got a call from one of the trolls though. [ Pause... pause... explanation! ]

...They're the ones who broadcast in different colours, I think this is their event and- I was actually hoping she could give me some advice, but...

[ He pulls out a picture from his pocket and slides it over to Evelyn with a sheepish grin. ]

I didn't get much, apart from really terrible fashion advice.

[ He can laugh about that, at least. His eye falls on Evelyn's empty cup. ]

...One more cup for you?

[What sort of scoundrel doesn't care about the well-beings of others? I mean, honestly. Philip has clearly been hanging around bad influences. Or Americans. Or both. It's nice to see him looking so pleased, though, even if Greatest Hits of the Righteous Brothers isn't on the record player.

...trolls, right. Yes. Those...those strange little grey people, correct? The last time Evelyn met one, it bit her. She doesn't have a very high opinion of their trolling ways.

Nodding and pushing her empty cup across the table with one finger, Evelyn takes the picture carefully and stares at it.]

Yes, thank you, but...what...

[She sits back, turning the photograph upside-down in the hopes that it will make more sense that way. It doesn't. There's so much pink. For Heaven's sake, is that skin or fabric? And the drawing skills are positively deplorable - whoever executed this masterpiece didn't even put the eyepatch over the correct eye.]

...what on earth is this? Do people actually wear these things? That's just...that's just absurd!

[Evelyn scrutinizes the photograph for a moment longer before bursting into a fit of giggles.]

Philip, if you-

[Can't...stop...laughing...]

...if you ever wear this, I just...I don't think I can associate with you anymore.

Well, there-- [ Evelyn's reaction cuts the actual explanation short. Ahh, there's nothing quite as contagious as laughter. Except Tuurngait maybe. Philip chuckles. ] It happens.

[ He refills the cup, making sure to go easy on the rum. Wouldn't want that tolerance discrepancy to become all too pronounced.

(There are only so many upsides to being much soberer than the ones you drink with and Philip has no intention of making use of any of them.)

With a histrionic sigh and feigned disappointment he slides the beverage over to Evelyn. ]

I suppose I could find something else to wear if you absolutely insist. I do admit it's not exactly my colour...

[Speaking of tolerance, has the narration mentioned how frightfully low Evelyn's is? Not being one to partake in spirits all that often (Read: ever), she is giggling like a dentist's patient on Nitrous Oxide. Buckle up, the Ramble Ride is ready to roll.]

You would look a bit ridiculous in pink. [No offence to Philip's previous experiences with such a lovely colour, of course. Evelyn takes a sip of her drink and makes a wide, exaggerated gesture.] Blue is--! Blue...blue is more your colour anyway, I should think. And I may not be well-versed in the fashionable vernacular, but all this-

[Wristflip towards the pile of dresses.]

-is just plain silly. We shouldn't have to...have to feel pressured to form relationships. Relationships are supposed to happen naturally. I feel like... [She sighs, frustrated.] ...I feel like this event has cheapened one of the few things that makes humanity so special. A strange man tried to kiss me, I was actually able to tolerate Mr. Holmes' pontificating...

[Evelyn slumps, cheek resting in her hand again. She fixes Philip with a distressed expression.]

No one wants to be forced into love, or lust, or hate. [Evie glances down into her cup with a faint smile.] Or pink clothing.

[She just doesn't like being compelled to find romance when it's supposed to find you.]

{Special, huh? Guess that's one way of describin' it. }

Especially not pink clothing, [ Philip adds with a weak smile, because romance, especially in words, is not exactly one of his strong points and he is admittedly a little stumped on the subject of his reply. ]

Wonderland... gets bored when things only progress naturally. It often seems that way, at least.

[ It's becoming increasingly obvious that Evelyn is not quite as practiced a drinker as Philip's usual companions. He pours another spiked tea for himself, but it will be a lot more of those before he is anywhere near ready to share his own sentiments so willingly. ]

Edited 2011-08-25 20:47 (UTC)

[By now Evelyn has slumped on the table, face pressed into the crook of her elbow, eyes shut. She still manages to gesticulate appropriately with her free arm, though, the words a little muffled.]

S'a very bothersome habit for a place to have. There aren't many- [Yaaaaaawn.] -stories about places like this, either.

[Evie opens her eyes slowly and fiddles with the handle on her teacup.]

For the...for the...the first week, that whole first week, I thought I was dreaming, and that'd I'd wake up, but it never happened. And there's so many of you - men, I mean - that I was...was worried in the beginning, but you and Mark Meltzer and, um...Daniel LaRouge...have been so wonderful that this place isn't nearly as daunting anymore, so...so thank you.

[Squinting at the china in her hand, she tilts it towards her and stares at the dregs of her drink.]

...I suddenly feel very tired.

You're... you're welcome.

[ Philip smiles. Making Wonderland less rather than more horrifying is really all he could ever wish for. At this particular moment anyway.

But Mark Meltzer? And Daniel LaRouge? Really now, who comes up with names like that?

Ah, but that's not the point. Not many stories, huh? Philip isn't so sure about that. He could probably remember a horror movie with a similar theme if he tried.

...Which does in fact bring a good subject to mind, as there are decades worth of films Evelyn still needs to be introduced t-- Oh.

Addendum: She is really nowhere near as practiced a drinker as Philip's usual companions. ]

How about you just-

[ He pushes back his chair and moves to stand up. Clearly the polite thing is to excuse himself now. ]

-go ahead and lie down for a bit then? And, um...

[ Standing. Taking a step away from the table. ]

I could-- I mean, if you're worried about your stalker I could, er, stay next door until the event's calmed down, if... if you like.

[Goodness me, have you not met Mr. Daniel LaRouge? A sweet man, to be certain, though the poor thing is about a century behind the times.]

Mmhm.

[She agrees with the suggestion airily, waving one hand around in a circle. Lying down sounds lovely. Sleep sounds lovely, even if her sense of balance is a little off-kilter - that should straighten up if she rests, right? It's a rather floaty sensation.]

That's...mmn...

[Evelyn trails off into giggles again before remembering that she was supposed to be saying something.]

That won't...be necess'ry, I'll just lock the door, I'm a ferpectly-

[Wait.]

...perfectly capable young lady, but thank you for the offer.

One increasingly restless physicist in three settings [22/??? artefacts collected]

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

1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

1/2

2/2

(no subject)