onepassingnight | 002. there's no place like home

Current Location: gaia, seventh heaven

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002. there's no place like home

It's one of those absolutely beautiful days when the sky outside is clear blue for a change instead of grey and the rain from the night before actually cleaned things instead of adding to the layer of grime. Outside, the people passing on the street don't seem quite as in a rush or beat down as usual and there's a feeling of faint relief in the air, almost as if you can inhale deeply and it will be okay. Down one of the quieter streets, there's a building with a sign over its front door that proudly proclaims itself to be Seventh Heaven. The door's locked and the sign on it reads 'closed'... but just to the side of the building, tucked away and private, is a little garage attached to the side of the building. That door is wide open to let the fresh spring air into its cramped interior.

It's a small space and a great deal of it is taken up with stacked boxes and bits and pieces of things that might be useful items or just might be junk. There's a washing machine and dryer tucked into one corner and that area is the only neat one in the entire place. A child's bike and a faded ball lay near the front of the open garage door. What takes up most of the space however is a monster of a motorcycle, glistening black as a beetle's shell after a rain storm and even parked it looks like speed on wheels. The air is full of the smell of oil and wax and a hint of gasoline. And there's a long, lean pair of legs sticking out from under the back of the bike where it's been cranked up, the soft sounds of metal on metal coming dimly from underneath. There's a tool chest nearby and a decent amount of dirty rags to show that this has been an ongoing process. Somewhere back through the closed door on the wall that connects this with the rest of the house the faint sound of a radio can be heard playing. The body attached to the legs under the bike might, or might not, be humming - poorly - snatches of whatever song it is that's playing.

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[There's an intruder. Quiet footsteps. The swish of a long, elegant gown; too soft to hear over the noise, likely.

She doesn't know why she's here, or how she got here, as she picks her way carefully through the garage. Finally, she calls out:]

I apologize for intruding. Is someone there?

[The girl, once seen, is instantly recognizable as Ami; all the same features and build and even the same dark hair. But somehow the eyes aren't unnaturally dark right now, the gown suits royalty out of a history book, and the sigil of planet Mercury on her forehead doesn't quite seem like a tattoo.]

Edited 2011-06-28 07:09 (UTC)

[he hears the rustle of fabric and it's not the soft leather of Tifa's clothes. It's not the kids because they move too fast to 'softly' anything. So he's already sliding out from under Fenrir on the dolly when she speaks. His blue eyes therefor move from her feet upward and he's already starting to look confused when his eyes finally hit her face. There's a pause. And a blink. And then he's sitting up, pulling a knee up so he can rest his arm over it as he asks:]

Ami?

Ami?

[For a moment, she looks confused. The name resounds inside her somehow, but she doesn't connect it to herself right now. It's not even her. Not yet. It's her next time.

Mercury stays where she is, a show of deference to the owner of the place she's unwittingly trespassed. She smooths out her expression, maintaining her dignity, every inch the girl born and bred to palaces and the life at court.]

Please allow me to introduce myself. I am the Princess Mercury. [She glances downward, but does not sink into the curtsy that might be expected in normal circumstances - not when she quietly notes she happens to be standing near a small oil stain on the floor.]

[he's got... he's got a princess. In his garage.

For a second his eyebrows go up and he's got to resist the urge to look around for Marlene - who would absolutely trample him to be able to see a real life princess. And - she is. There's no doubt about it. He's never seen a princess in his life but every inch of her, from the clothes to the way she holds herself to the look in her eyes... she's a princess all right.

A princess that looks exactly like a girl he's friends with.

So... twin? Or maybe a different side of her? Cloud's familiar enough with not being himself that he can fathom that a little.]

Sorry.

[he stands up, using the already dirty rag over his shoulder to wipe at his bare hands. The simple dark blue t-shirt he's wearing is just as holey and grease smeared.]

You look like someone I know. Is there something I can help you with?

[This is Mercury's past, an even deeper past than the child Cloud met once before. She smiles blandly, politely, ill at-ease despite herself in the unfamiliar surroundings and especially with an unfamiliar person.]

The truth is, I came here by accident. Could you-

[She falters; it's asking a lot of a stranger, and she's not sure what to ask for even if she could ask for help. Directions to a transporter? It was better, if he didn't seem to know who she was, not to reveal her ties to the Moon Kingdom. Not if this, as she suspected by its sheer difference, was Earth.]

Could you forgive my intrusion. Is it alright if I stay a little while? [Until she can figure out how to get back. She glances towards the motorcycle.] I would avoid interfering in your work, of course.

[not Earth. This is a planet that speaks for itself and if it has a chosen warrior... well, you're looking at him in all his slightly disheveled, ratty, oil smudged glory. Lucky planet.

Not to mention having a princess seeking shelter in his garage is an entirely new experience for him and he'll reach up to scratch at the back of his neck. His face doesn't change much and he'll nod, just a couple short dips of his chin.

She even has Ami's voice.

So he thinks he'd like to keep an eye on her too, just to make sure she's okay.]

Wait here.

[he goes into the house without waiting for a response, leaving the door between the garage and the hallway open. When he comes back he has one of Tifa's bar stools carefully held by the metal underside so he doesn't get grease on the seat and a couple bottles of cold water. All the water into Edge has to be imported if it's for drinking and by now it's second nature for him to carry it around. He'll set the stool down for her near the corner that's clean because it's Tifa's domain with the washer and dryer and then offer her one of the bottles of water.

Forgive him. He's forgotten that talking is a social expectation again.]