taxonomites | [holo] oh how sweet to walk in this pilgrim way

[Mattie feels the ground give way under her feet, panic closing off her throat as she begins to fall, scrabbling uselessly at dirt and brush-]

The holo feed shows a small figure dressed in too-large, old-fashioned clothes appear in mid-air, then fall to the ground with a hard thump that knocks the wind out of her for a moment. She lies still, gaping up at what should be a blue sky or at least the darkness of earth over her head, and then hesitantly brushes the fingers of one hand against the unyielding surface of the floor.

“Mr. LaBoeuf?” Her voice is embarrassingly weak, and she takes a deep breath and tries again, more loudly. “Mr. LaBoeuf!”

There’s no answer, of course, and common sense tells Mattie that although she doesn’t rightly know where she is, it’s obvious where she is not, and she shouldn’t expect any response. That realization urges her to sit up, the hat falling off her head as she slowly pushes herself to her feet and looks uncertainly around.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?” She approaches the nearest wall and runs her hand along it, then turns her head to take in the others, just as blank as this one. Raising her arm, she pounds her fist against it, voice taking on a more forceful (but also more desperate) tone. “Whoever’s out there, open up this minute! You have no right to hold me against my will, I’ve embarked on no wrong-doing.. I have a good lawyer, and I will write him and you will hear how the law looks on the incarceration of innocent children!”

When the wall doesn’t give way and door doesn’t appear, Mattie steps back with a sigh. “Papa, I believe I have found some trouble for myself.”

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"Well. I suppose it is a bit much to expect a prisoner to be able to produce his jailers upon request." Mattie's slowly thawing (being called 'Miss' helps that along a great deal), and it shows in the way she relaxes her posture a little, and allows a more curious and less suspicious expression onto her face. "Have you been here very long, Mr. Salvatore?"

"Just 'Stefan' will suffice," he corrects, a little uncomfortable with being addressed as 'Mr. Salvatore'. Oh, father issues that stick around for a century and a half. "I've been here for something of half a year, though I know of others who have been here much longer. I am sorry to say that there doesn't seem to be any means of escape at the time, but people are hard at work on finding a way out of here. In the meantime, you can leave that room if you would so like."

"Of course. Then I suppose you ought to call me just Mattie."

Half a year? She considers the possibility now that she may have to put off knowing what has happened to her friends -- and to that damnable mongrel Tom Chaney -- a while longer. The idea doesn't sit well. "I am sure it not impossible, and I do not mind applying myself to hard labor to find my way home. I have been days now in Indian Territory, and often worked hard at home as well. I will manage."

And with Mr. Draper now insisting rather than offering to meet her at the door, Mattie figures she has the situation as well in hand as anyone might. "You have been helpful, I am grateful for the assistance. And...for the company, such as it is, while I am finding my bearings."

"You are most welcome, Mattie," Stefan says. "If no-one is coming to see to your escort, I would be more than happy to oblige."

"I have engaged the services of Mr. Don Draper in that regard," Mattie replies, as if it had been all her idea instead of him telling her to wait by the door until he could get there. "But I believe he does it grudgingly and will try to hand me over to some matron like as not."

This, Mattie is determined, will not happen.

Stefan can't help but chuckle. "You'll be relieved to hear then that there are no matrons that I know of in Taxon."

[holo] oh how sweet to walk in this pilgrim way

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