[Evelyn, discerning hostess that she is, put the kettle on and cleared an area in the sitting room. It's undignified, having shared so much with him and having learned little in return, and it's high time she offered the same favour. Hastening to the door she opens it to give him a view into a series of rooms stemming from a central nexus.
The décor itself is warm and eclectic, the floorplan chosen because she started getting cabin fever in her third year as a Wonderland resident.]
[she remarks, ushering him inside and shutting the door as he shifts out of the way. She's gotten stranger reactions to her interior design before, but knows so little about Dan's origins that it might well look ridiculous.
A conglomeration of cultures and her work, it's one of the few places here that feels as though it belongs to her, and her alone.]
I've been here a while, I couldn't stand tight quarters. Tea?
[He lets that go just like that and glances around with obvious levels of distraction. The word he was looking for was close to 'elegant', but he's never seen anything like it before. No one manages to keep a place like this in the Mojave.]
[Evelyn hums thoughtfully and waves a hand toward the sitting area, accepting the compliment (?) in stride. There are worse things a place could be than "like her."]
I have some, it might not be the kind you're used to, but I think you'll like it.
[A strong Turkish blend is the only one she knows how to make, since she can't operate a French press to save her life.]
[Like the food, the drink, the weather, the people, the water.. even the air is different. He can't say he misses the sensation of breathing in a lungful of dust and sand every time the wind happens to turn in the wrong direction.
Doesn't miss the radioactive lightning, either.]
But I'm gettin' used to it. Whatever you've got'll be just fine.
[People tend to double - or triple - their portions of coffee in the future, she's noticed, which is why she has a mug out for him instead of the traditional little cup. Evelyn gestures that he sit and she steps around him to pour, nudging a small pile of multipledifferentrecords closer to the gramophone with the tip of her shoe.]
The honeymoon period will pass,
[she informs him gently, settling across from Dan and reaching for the sugar.]
[For a moment it looks as if he isn't sure which seat to sit on - everything looks so clean - but he picks one and gingerly drops into it, watching her move as she makes the drinks.]
What's it like..?
[He picks up one of the records, sliding it gently out of its sheath and smiling in private amusement. It's been a while since he saw one of these.]
That's a real loaded question. You wanna be more specific?
[Stirring sugar into her tea - it already has lemon, and milk is an abomination - Evelyn looks over the landscape made up by the tea setting and watches him tug The Ink Spots from their case.
I was born on the road. Somewhere in the Northern Commonwealth that they used t' call Montana. Never spent much time there, though.
[He slips the record back and sets it down, picking up the coffee instead.]
My pa was from the Plains Commonwealth, and my mom was a tribal from the Zion Canyon. Pa was a caravanner, so we moved around a lot, but he traded mostly in the Mojave.
[Evelyn wishes that she didn't look so quizzical as he elucidates, coming up with a veritable grocery list of place names she doesn't recognise in the least, thinking he might well be from another world entirely.
[He gets the feeling, watching her face while he speaks, that he's completely throwing her for a loop. Evie has struck him as the worldly sort, but he knows he's likely from a time in the far flung future from her.
He sips his coffee, makes a short, appreciative sound at the taste, then clears his throat.]
Lemme ask you somethin'... What year is it, where you come from?
[It isn't uncommon that people ask her this particular question, and it never really comes as a surprise, but sometimes it sound mildly accusatory. Holding her teacup in both hands Evelyn wonders what tell gave her away, if it was the diction, the formality, the décor.
Sometimes she feels as though she's blended so easily into this world, she might as well be timeless.]
[And maybe that will tell her why he asked. There has been no one so far even close to his time period, though he didn't expect that Evelyn would be, either.
Nothing really gives her away as far as he's concerned, he just takes it as read that everyone is from some time in the past.]
[Evelyn stares across the table and rather suddenly it feels like a desert on its own between them, wide and far-reaching, cresting the horizon and baking in the sun. It's almost three-hundred and fifty years, further apart than anyone else's she's ever known here.
No one has ever been close to her time period, either.]
That's...I've never met someone from that far in the future.
[He laughs softly and dips his head to rub one hand back over his hair. Strangely, he's still getting used to sand not falling out of it every time he does that - or indeed being consistently clean at all. His fingers linger for a moment then drop and he looks up, brows lifting briefly.]
Yeah. No one else has, either.
[Not that he minds, he supposes. From the sounds of things, it was a much better way of life before. Most folks here wouldn't know how to handle a gecko, never mind a deathclaw or super mutant.]
[Sand Getting Everywhere, the sequel to Life In A Desert Is Hell.]
There's no one from my time, either, [Evelyn tells him with some sympathy, understanding that Wonderland doesn't make the transition any easier for people who come from eras outside of 1980 to 2020. There is a reason for the new informational pamphlet she put together.]
[He draws in a breath through his teeth. So far, he hasn't said much about where he comes from to anyone, save for that one woman who was asking very specifically for such information. There's no reason to lie, though.]
You ain't missing the lack of clean water, or really any food an' water that ain't full of radiation even if y' grow it yerself. There's places, like near the Glowing Sea, where they get radiation storms. The lightning is green.
[Dan pauses, taking a sip of coffee.]
Yer not missing the worst of humanity - the raiders, the fiends so hopped up on drugs they'd eat their own arm if y' told 'em they could. And the.. We call 'em ghouls. Some of 'em are fine, jus' kinda zombie-lookin' but I got no beef with 'em. Most lost any kind of humanity a long time ago. It's the rads that do it. Some ghouls remember the day the bombs fell.
[That's not the worst of it. Not even half of the worst of it, but she did ask.]
Then there's the geckos, nasty little things up to yer waist. The yao guai. The fucking.. giant bugs. Ants. Mantises. Cazadores. Scorpions the size a' cars. Stingers make good soup though. [He smiles at her. Faintly.]
Things that used t' be human twisted into terrible violent things by government experiments left over from before the War or just after it. Super mutants and spore carriers that'll kill you soon as look at you. Or worse. There's worse. Trust me.
[If there's one thing Evelyn didn't expect to hear, it was a proper schooling on whatever depraved world from which Dan hails, apparently bereft of potable water, non-toxic foodstuffs, and anything remotely resembling safety. Radioactive lightning storms? Psychotic bandits? Enormous, murderous creatures?
The list goes on and she finds herself too distracted as it grows, her fingers clutching her tea but her drink otherwise untouched, the inhospitality of his universe terrifying. Clearly people were not meant to live in conditions like that, and yet-
The "war" he mentions is reason enough, Evelyn can in part imagine some tremendous series of explosions rendering everything much less welcoming, much less approachable, and much more deadly. There's worse. She believes it.]
I do.
[Poleaxed, Evelyn looks down into her cup - there is a reason now for why Dan seems so quietly grateful for the near-tranquility and the abundance of supplies.]
[He looks down at his drink and sniffs once, taking a sip to fill the silence.]
It's just how it is, y'know. That's normal. Raiders attack, or super mutants drag half a settlement away - that's normal. You stay away from large bodies a' water if you can cuz mirelurks'll chase you fer miles.
[Maybe he's less of a mystery to her now, though. Maybe more of one.]
And there's nothin' more ferocious than a momma deathclaw protectin' her babies. Seen them kill a guy with one swipe.
[Evelyn has never appreciated the comparative tameness of her own world more; while unfamiliar with whatever species he is describing context clues would suggest that they are large, and dangerous, and bloodthirsty.]
I'm sorry that that's normal, [she thinks out loud, and then hastens to correct herself.] Not that I- it's not pity, I just- it sounds awful.
[And he certainly doesn't deserve to live in a place like that.]
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voice;
voice;
I'll see you shortly, then.
action;
Smart men don't walk into ladies' rooms uninvited.]
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The décor itself is warm and eclectic, the floorplan chosen because she started getting cabin fever in her third year as a Wonderland resident.]
Dan. Please, come in.
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[He takes a step inside, then makes a sound close to 'whoa' and looks around with faintly raised eyebrows.
It takes him a moment to realise he's blocking the door.]
Heck. Sorry. This is uh. Damn.
"HECK" oh my god this muffin
[she remarks, ushering him inside and shutting the door as he shifts out of the way. She's gotten stranger reactions to her interior design before, but knows so little about Dan's origins that it might well look ridiculous.
A conglomeration of cultures and her work, it's one of the few places here that feels as though it belongs to her, and her alone.]
I've been here a while, I couldn't stand tight quarters. Tea?
Heck >.>
[He lets that go just like that and glances around with obvious levels of distraction. The word he was looking for was close to 'elegant', but he's never seen anything like it before. No one manages to keep a place like this in the Mojave.]
Coffee if you've got it.
:3 :3 :3
I have some, it might not be the kind you're used to, but I think you'll like it.
[A strong Turkish blend is the only one she knows how to make, since she can't operate a French press to save her life.]
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[Like the food, the drink, the weather, the people, the water.. even the air is different. He can't say he misses the sensation of breathing in a lungful of dust and sand every time the wind happens to turn in the wrong direction.
Doesn't miss the radioactive lightning, either.]
But I'm gettin' used to it. Whatever you've got'll be just fine.
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The honeymoon period will pass,
[she informs him gently, settling across from Dan and reaching for the sugar.]
What is it like, where you're from?
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What's it like..?
[He picks up one of the records, sliding it gently out of its sheath and smiling in private amusement. It's been a while since he saw one of these.]
That's a real loaded question. You wanna be more specific?
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He's not wrong, she should be more specific.]
Oh. Um. Well, where are you from, for starters?
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[He slips the record back and sets it down, picking up the coffee instead.]
My pa was from the Plains Commonwealth, and my mom was a tribal from the Zion Canyon. Pa was a caravanner, so we moved around a lot, but he traded mostly in the Mojave.
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Or that's her assumption until the last word.]
...the Mojave is...a desert, is it not?
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[He gets the feeling, watching her face while he speaks, that he's completely throwing her for a loop. Evie has struck him as the worldly sort, but he knows he's likely from a time in the far flung future from her.
He sips his coffee, makes a short, appreciative sound at the taste, then clears his throat.]
Lemme ask you somethin'... What year is it, where you come from?
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[It isn't uncommon that people ask her this particular question, and it never really comes as a surprise, but sometimes it sound mildly accusatory. Holding her teacup in both hands Evelyn wonders what tell gave her away, if it was the diction, the formality, the décor.
Sometimes she feels as though she's blended so easily into this world, she might as well be timeless.]
1935.
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For me, it's 2282.
[And maybe that will tell her why he asked. There has been no one so far even close to his time period, though he didn't expect that Evelyn would be, either.
Nothing really gives her away as far as he's concerned, he just takes it as read that everyone is from some time in the past.]
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[Evelyn stares across the table and rather suddenly it feels like a desert on its own between them, wide and far-reaching, cresting the horizon and baking in the sun. It's almost three-hundred and fifty years, further apart than anyone else's she's ever known here.
No one has ever been close to her time period, either.]
That's...I've never met someone from that far in the future.
[It certainly doesn't show.]
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Yeah. No one else has, either.
[Not that he minds, he supposes. From the sounds of things, it was a much better way of life before. Most folks here wouldn't know how to handle a gecko, never mind a deathclaw or super mutant.]
You ain't missing much, though.
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There's no one from my time, either, [Evelyn tells him with some sympathy, understanding that Wonderland doesn't make the transition any easier for people who come from eras outside of 1980 to 2020. There is a reason for the new informational pamphlet she put together.]
So...what am I not missing?
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You ain't missing the lack of clean water, or really any food an' water that ain't full of radiation even if y' grow it yerself. There's places, like near the Glowing Sea, where they get radiation storms. The lightning is green.
[Dan pauses, taking a sip of coffee.]
Yer not missing the worst of humanity - the raiders, the fiends so hopped up on drugs they'd eat their own arm if y' told 'em they could. And the.. We call 'em ghouls. Some of 'em are fine, jus' kinda zombie-lookin' but I got no beef with 'em. Most lost any kind of humanity a long time ago. It's the rads that do it. Some ghouls remember the day the bombs fell.
[That's not the worst of it. Not even half of the worst of it, but she did ask.]
Then there's the geckos, nasty little things up to yer waist. The yao guai. The fucking.. giant bugs. Ants. Mantises. Cazadores. Scorpions the size a' cars. Stingers make good soup though. [He smiles at her. Faintly.]
Things that used t' be human twisted into terrible violent things by government experiments left over from before the War or just after it. Super mutants and spore carriers that'll kill you soon as look at you. Or worse. There's worse. Trust me.
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The list goes on and she finds herself too distracted as it grows, her fingers clutching her tea but her drink otherwise untouched, the inhospitality of his universe terrifying. Clearly people were not meant to live in conditions like that, and yet-
The "war" he mentions is reason enough, Evelyn can in part imagine some tremendous series of explosions rendering everything much less welcoming, much less approachable, and much more deadly. There's worse. She believes it.]
I do.
[Poleaxed, Evelyn looks down into her cup - there is a reason now for why Dan seems so quietly grateful for the near-tranquility and the abundance of supplies.]
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It's just how it is, y'know. That's normal. Raiders attack, or super mutants drag half a settlement away - that's normal. You stay away from large bodies a' water if you can cuz mirelurks'll chase you fer miles.
[Maybe he's less of a mystery to her now, though. Maybe more of one.]
And there's nothin' more ferocious than a momma deathclaw protectin' her babies. Seen them kill a guy with one swipe.
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I'm sorry that that's normal, [she thinks out loud, and then hastens to correct herself.] Not that I- it's not pity, I just- it sounds awful.
[And he certainly doesn't deserve to live in a place like that.]
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'S alright. I'm one a' the luckier ones. Know how t' take care of myself an' turned back before I got too far down a bad path.
[There's so much worse. Some people live their whole lives without ever knowing the kind of danger outside their walls.]
Can't really say it's awful when I never knew any different, y'know? There's ways I could've had an easier life, I guess.
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