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[willyousee]

Forgive me, but I am unfamiliar with what liminal space has become this time. Can anyone tell me what it is? What the cultural significance of it is? Are there usually balls of mice which try to run you down? There must be some reason it is what it is this time.

Comments

[willyousee]

It is a term of respect and rank when one is uncertain of the other's standing, in my society - I had not meant it to place any restrictions or expectations upon you. My apologies if I have offended.

This place continually poses more questions than it answers, and we are expected to find our own, so I do find it most efficient to ask. I admit, I am glad to find another soul somewhat less familiar with what I am told is the modern state of the world, and perhaps as curious?

[timelessinventor]

Oh, it is in mine as well, but one I would hardly ever claim. I am certainly not offended. [Her mental tone is light, accompanied by a laugh.]

Everything is better when one actually inquires. So many things are overlooked because people refuse to ask simple questions, either out of courtesy or some damn sense of propriety.

My history is odd, and a bit checkered, darling. I know some of the modern world, but my original time is the Victorian Era in England. I was born in Eighteen sixty-six. However, you are quite correct that I am curious. Always have been, and it has gotten me in trouble more than a few times.

[willyousee]

[Victorian England. He falls silent a moment. What had been the date on the papers in that gods-forsaken little town? 1897. She would have been thirty-one years of age. Mental voices are difficult to place, age-wise, and he has always had a more difficult time with people who are not from Terre d'Ange, but... even adjusting for his usual accidental upwards estimate, she is likely at least that old.]

[There is a shift in the feeling of the mental connection as he isolates the one between them and shields it from outside listeners. The conversation is now private. His voice remains calm and gentle, slightly apologetic.]

Forgive me, may I ask... Did you ever live in a town called Harrogate?

[timelessinventor]

Harrogate? No. Traveled there once to speak to a doctor who was doing research on the effects of adrenaline on the human body, but never lived there.

...why do you ask? It's an...odd place to inquire about. A little dull, somewhat of a tourist trap.

[willyousee]

There was a Jaunt there, some five Jaunts past. It... did not go well. We succeeded in our goal, but at great cost, and no Traveler escaped unscathed. I am uncertain if it was a part of your world's history or not, and I leave it to you whether or not you should like to hear the story. The year there was 1897.

[timelessinventor]

Oh, dear. What did happen, if it is not too painful for you to recall?

It is very likely not something that happened in my world. That sounds like the sort of thing my employers would have been very interested in, and I have never heard about events in that particular town.

[willyousee]

No matter how painful the memory, we must share it if we are to learn from it and not allow the pain to fester. It would be best to speak of it in person, if it would not be too troublesome. ...I may be able to share images with you, if you wish it.

[timelessinventor]

Now that is an interesting trick. Do you have some sort of recording device?

[Helena pauses, and when her mental voice returns, it is much less bright.]

Here, I would agree, especially if the memories will lead to a better time for others. Some memories, however, are best left unshared.

I will certainly meet you, darling. How on Earth does one describe a meeting place in this chaos, however?

[willyousee]

Not precisely. It is a trick I learned from a friend, to share information at need which might be easier understood through picture than words.

One of our number has created a workshop and inn-like space on one of the walls. This may sound unlikely, but I would ask that you listen for a thread of music unlike anything else here. Not loud and jangling, but sweet, and nigh ethereal, with the rush of the sea current in it. You will feel as though it wishes you to go somewhere. Like you wish to follow it. If you let it, it will guide you here. I will wait for you at the door. Will that suffice?

[timelessinventor]

That sounds quite useful.

Actually, that is not the strangest thing I have ever encountered, darling. In fact, that sounds quite pleasant.

I will follow my ears and see you soon.

At the Workshop

[willyousee]

Sure enough, weaving through the music and the shouts of Travelers and the pinging of the machine comes a beautiful strain of song. It's not instrumental, it doesn't replace the music already playing. A single voice that seems almost to seek her out, catch her by the hand, gently pull her back the way it came. It's not a soprano, or even an alto, but a rich baritone, and if she follows it, she'll find a strange door set in the wall of one of the corridor - and a beautiful, young man standing in the doorway, holding out his hand to her and Singing.

As she reaches a more reasonable speaking distance he draws the Song to a close and gives her an elegant, respectful nod. "Helena? Welcome. Please, come in."