(a few hours into the Jaunt, open broadcast)

[protect_and_serve]

[Joscelin's voice, sent across the network, is warm, dry, composed - instilled with enough confidence, he hopes, to reassure the new and uncertain.]

A calm beginning makes for a welcome change. We should still start sharing what we know. Who's with us, and who is missing? Who is infiltrating? What do we know about this world?

If this is your first Jaunt - and there were many new faces in Liminal Space - ask for assistance, and we'll give it.

I'll begin. This is Joscelin Verreuil. We're on the coast of an island, somewhere between Alba and Terre D'Ange- England and France, I think, locally. Magic of some sort appears to be open and commonplace. I can't make sense of their calendar, but we're in or just after the Twentieth Century, as.... Christians... reckon time. This is a port where foreigners are common and unremarked. I have clothes that fit the era, and in my pockets were ten five-pound notes. The Trumps don't mean for us to be spotted immediately, or starve, but I can't guess more than that.

Comments

[protect_and_serve]

They began to build like this, several hundred years after our time. I cannot, precisely, make the histories align, but were we to set foot in Terre d'Ange two thousand years after Yeshua's execution, we would see something very like, I imagine. I've been to such places a handful of times, now.

If we can find the funds, we can purchase you a phone. It will have a map on it - and likely enough, links to half the libraries of this world, for you to bury yourself in.

[theanguissette]

[Her excitement at the last is not audible, but it is palpable.]

I should much like to procure one of these devices...How shall we go about securing funds?

[...She could always attempt to take an assignation...]

[protect_and_serve]

Forgery, generally.

[theanguissette]

That...is not one my talents, my love.

[protect_and_serve]

No, but there are many Travelers who are capable of it, manipulating Liminal matter to mimic currency.

[theanguissette]

Someday, I will be of some use on one of these journeys, and not merely have to rely on others for everything.

[The thought is wry, but there is an undercurrent of bitter truth to it.]

[protect_and_serve]

You have no notion how many Jaunts I have faced down a mystery and wished for the wit of Phedre no Delaunay to unlock a puzzle for us. You have plenty to offer.

[theanguissette]

[He is trying to make her feel better. How could they not have the wit to solve a puzzle when Alcuin has been here?]

You give me too much credit, love.

[protect_and_serve]

You give yourself too little. Comtesse.

[theanguissette]

Well, I cannot rightly argue with a Cassiline, can I?

[Mirth. And warmth. She still doesn't believe in herself the way he believes in her, but she at least believes in the fact that he believes in her.]

I suppose I shall just wander and drink in the labyrinth that is this city until we have secured funds, then?

[protect_and_serve]

Yes, that should be fine, as long as - has anyone explained traffic signals to you, yet?

[theanguissette]

....No. I assume you mean the lighted pedestals situated where the roads intersect?