The human mind is a wonderful thing. It can notice the most commonplace things in the world with all the fascination of surprise. On the other hand, it can utterly disregard something so totally unusual as to be outside it's sphere of experience. Quite what the human mind would make of what was happening in a quiet street of the city wasn't easily predictable, however. A strange repetitive sound, a metallic, breathing heartbeat, sounded itself just on the edge of hearing, and a door made itself known, set in an expanse of brick wall that had been bare only a few minutes beforehand. It stood there as nonchalantly as a door can be, endeavouring to look as though it had been there for years.
Gabriel didn't notice the door right away, despite it appearing out of nowhere just a few feet to his left. He was busy zipping up his trousers and humming a tune when it first appeared. When he turned, he assumed it was the door to the tavern the wall happened to be connected to and walked forward, placing a hand against it in an attempt to open it with a firm shove.
The door opened under his hand, swinging inward to reveal a cluttered but very comfortable living room, set with a variety of armchairs and couches, tables and bureaus, nicely appointed around a stone fireplace in which a happy wood fire was crackling away. There were no windows, but the room was lit with variations on oil lamps and candles. A book had been left on one of the tables, face down and open, evidently put there only recently, and sounds of movement were coming from beyond an open door across the room. A voice called out as he entered. "Tea?"
The light was a shade brighter than that of the tavern and quite a bit more than the dark outside. He blinked, squinting through the night and looking around at the sound of the voice. "Eh?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. "Ugh, no, hate that stuff. S'bitter'n nasty'n hot."
"I can do you something else," the voice offered. It was discernibly feminine, and somewhat distracted. "I'm sure there must be something else here ....juice" Oh, no, I gave that to ....I forget ....Perhaps there's some wine around here ..." There was a metallic clunk from beyond that open door, and something made a chittering sound, accompanied by the skitter of rodent paws on a wooden floor. "Don't poop in the transcendental engine again, or you're going back in the forest."
He closed the door and took note of the scenery at last. "This isn't the pub," he observed, creeping around to find the source of the voice. "Coulda sworn the pub was 'ere."
"Oh, no, this isn't a pub." The owner of the voice came to the far door, revealing itself to be a young-seeming woman with a slightly abstracted smile, carrying a white teapot and an orange for some reason. "Hello. Wrong turn?"
"This door's right up against the pub wall," he replied, pointing in the direction of the pub. "This is s'posed t' be a pub. Why isn't it' Who are you?"
She blinked for a moment, her brows rising. "I've landed in a pub?" After another moment of staring at him blankly, she put the orange down on a counter beside her, moving out of the doorway. The teapot, somehow, disappeared into a pocket of her long velvet coat as she walked across the living room, opening another door hidden among the clutter of the room. "Well, come on then, if you're coming."
First things first. Oranges, he liked them. Quite a bit. Couldn't remember the last time he'd had one, fruit didn't grow well in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. So, he leaned over to snag said orange before blinking at her. "Where?"
She glanced back at him, her expression more than a little distracted once again. "The control room, of course." She stepped out of sight, leaving the door open behind her as her footsteps faded away.
Gabriel didn't notice the door right away, despite it appearing out of nowhere just a few feet to his left. He was busy zipping up his trousers and humming a tune when it first appeared. When he turned, he assumed it was the door to the tavern the wall happened to be connected to and walked forward, placing a hand against it in an attempt to open it with a firm shove.
The door opened under his hand, swinging inward to reveal a cluttered but very comfortable living room, set with a variety of armchairs and couches, tables and bureaus, nicely appointed around a stone fireplace in which a happy wood fire was crackling away. There were no windows, but the room was lit with variations on oil lamps and candles. A book had been left on one of the tables, face down and open, evidently put there only recently, and sounds of movement were coming from beyond an open door across the room. A voice called out as he entered. "Tea?"
The light was a shade brighter than that of the tavern and quite a bit more than the dark outside. He blinked, squinting through the night and looking around at the sound of the voice. "Eh?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. "Ugh, no, hate that stuff. S'bitter'n nasty'n hot."
"I can do you something else," the voice offered. It was discernibly feminine, and somewhat distracted. "I'm sure there must be something else here ....juice" Oh, no, I gave that to ....I forget ....Perhaps there's some wine around here ..." There was a metallic clunk from beyond that open door, and something made a chittering sound, accompanied by the skitter of rodent paws on a wooden floor. "Don't poop in the transcendental engine again, or you're going back in the forest."
He closed the door and took note of the scenery at last. "This isn't the pub," he observed, creeping around to find the source of the voice. "Coulda sworn the pub was 'ere."
"Oh, no, this isn't a pub." The owner of the voice came to the far door, revealing itself to be a young-seeming woman with a slightly abstracted smile, carrying a white teapot and an orange for some reason. "Hello. Wrong turn?"
"This door's right up against the pub wall," he replied, pointing in the direction of the pub. "This is s'posed t' be a pub. Why isn't it' Who are you?"
She blinked for a moment, her brows rising. "I've landed in a pub?" After another moment of staring at him blankly, she put the orange down on a counter beside her, moving out of the doorway. The teapot, somehow, disappeared into a pocket of her long velvet coat as she walked across the living room, opening another door hidden among the clutter of the room. "Well, come on then, if you're coming."
First things first. Oranges, he liked them. Quite a bit. Couldn't remember the last time he'd had one, fruit didn't grow well in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. So, he leaned over to snag said orange before blinking at her. "Where?"
She glanced back at him, her expression more than a little distracted once again. "The control room, of course." She stepped out of sight, leaving the door open behind her as her footsteps faded away.