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

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[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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Mattie watches, but as she has no understanding of how the thing works, she can't possibly speculate on what exactly it is that he's doing. Still, the picture and voices appear to go away, so at least that much he was telling the truth about.

"I am sixteen." Said with all the haughty self-assurance of someone still walking that fine line between girl and woman. A gesture of openness requires the same in response, however, and so after a pause she adds, "My father is recently deceased. Murdered, in fact, by an ungrateful scoundrel by the name of Tom Chaney, and I am going to see that he is brought to justice."

There's a good possibility he already has. But she can't be certain until she returns to the place she was snatched from, and sees the evidence herself.

He slides his hands into his pockets and looks her over again, consideringly, gauging her resolve, searching that young face for a sign it might falter.

"There's no law here." It's as good a starting point as any. "And no Tom Chaney."

Don half turns--it's as though his sense of purpose deserts him midway through--to stare down the empty corridor, shakes a hand loose from his pocket and puffs on his cigarette. "I'm sorry about your father," he says, glancing over his shoulder to meet her eyes. The words are spare, unadorned. He's relieved, too, in some measure--it's one less piece of bad news for him to break, one loss she's already borne.

He tosses the cigarette to the ground. "No point in putting this off any longer. Let's go."

"There must be someone keeping the peace." Mattie refuses to believe that any reasonable group of people would allow chaos to reign without someone stepping up to keep the outlaws in check. After all, it's not like the official law enforcement was much help to her, but she still managed to find and hire help.

The lack of a Tom Chaney is more distressing to her than Don might imagine. If he were here, she could see to his incarceration until she was able to return to Yell County. So possibly against expectations, she frowns at that piece of news.

"Go where?" She probably will follow him, but that doesn't mean she'll do it blindly. "I thought I was to take rooms in this place."

"The city has plenty of policemen. More than its share, from what I understand." Don hasn't met or spoken to any (not wittingly, at least) but he's caught the odd transmission and reassurance is the order of the day.

His eyebrows inch upwards--a reserved show of amusement. "You didn't seem in love with that idea," he remarks of the proposal that she stay in the Sanctuary. And then that trace of mirth is gone, swept aside by the knowledge of what she's about to confront. "There are things you need to know--about Taxon and how it works. Things I can't just tell you."

"That is good to hear." Mattie approves of Law, and of the proper application thereof, but she's willing to extend her definition to include the work of bounty hunters and, if necessary, private citizens with a mind to see justice served. So long as it's done in a proper fashion, of course.

"I am not keen to do it, of course, but I am not currently aware of what my other options may be. I have spent the night in less comfortable places." No really, she has. Much less comfortable places. "You plan to take up the task of introducing me to these things, then?"

Mattie figures she's amenable to that. Don lacks the facial hair and unwashed stink of too much whiskey, but there are subtle ways in which he reminds her a little bit of Mr. Cogburn.

He spreads his arms. "I wouldn't be here otherwise." 'Task' is the right word--Don brings to the undertaking all the enthusiasm he'd show an unpleasant but necessary chore. Beneath that, though, lies a certain grim determination. "You'll know more about your options once you've had a look at the city."

Now would be the time to offer some final piece of advice, but nothing he says can possibly prepare her for the shock of seeing Taxon for the first time--it'd be like advising someone, 'the water's cold' before shoving them into a freezing lake.

He nods down the hall. "After you."

Mattie sees no more reason to waste time standing about, seeing as she now has a guide who seems competent enough, if not especially congenial. She settles her hat back on top of her head and walks with purpose down the hall, taking a deep breath to squash the sudden sense of trepidation as she pushes open the door leading outside.

She stops only a step beyond the threshold, however, and simply stares. Down the rabbit hole indeed.

Don trails behind, allowing Mattie a few steps' lead. As she stands frozen just outside the door he squeezes past into the sunlight. "Take your time," he says quietly. Most of her face is lost in the shadow of that hat. "No one's going anywhere."

With a snap of his lighter, he starts on another cigarette.

Edited 2011-03-31 00:40 (UTC)

So she does, taking in the view before her with a solemn gaze. It's nothing like Fort Smith, and nothing like her father's stories of St. Louis. Mattie doubts even San Francisco, the most metropolitan kind of place she can imagine, could match the city she stands in now.

Suddenly she feels very small.

"Where am I to go now?" she asks, her voice softer and a little more faltering than she'd like.

He has ample time to consider the spectacle Taxon must make to her, to dredge up memories of his own less than graceful arrival. To wonder when he'd become reconciled to this--this view, this way of living.

"You hungry?" Don raises his eyebrows and glances her way but doesn't wait for a response. "I'll get you something to eat and show you how to work the...they call it a tablet."

Hungry? Yes, Mattie realizes she is. They'd had no breakfast, interrupted as it was by her discovery of Tom Chaney at the river.

"I am, but I have no money for food." Her thoughts of being able to put to use what she's learned from Mr. Cogburn and live off the land have evaporated, now that she's seen the city. "However, if you will buy me a meal, I will return either the favor or the price of it soon as I am able to raise some funds. And yes, please...it seems I had better learn to use it straight off, and not wait too long."

"Don't worry about that," Don says with a bemused shake of his head. "It wouldn't be a favor; it'd be my pleasure." He draws on his cigarette, gives her a look--reproachful, yes, but confiding, meant to enlist her aid. "So let's not haggle over lunch in the street."

He takes her to a deli a few blocks away, "Ruth's" scrawled in neon above the front window. A bell jangles and a blast of cool air escapes as he pulls open the door for her.

Mattie nods in agreement, and follows quietly, taking the time during their walk to collect herself (and to study her surroundings without too much obvious staring). She has a feeling this may be as much a challenge as her time on the trail with Rooster was.

The lit-up sign is fascinating, but her attention is pulled away immediately by the gust of cool air, and she steps slowly inside, almost expecting to see some kind of ice house or root cellar. Certainly not a cleany and...shiny is the only word she can come up...public house.

"Thank you, Mr. Draper. I very much appreciate your hospitality. It is a strange town, but I dare say it does treat strangers well."

He's keeping an eye on her--discreetly, stealing the occasional glance to be sure her expression hasn't strayed into panic. Upon entering the shop he looks not to the long glass case with its bundles of meat and variety of almost garishly bright cheeses, nor to the offerings chalked on the menu board. His gaze snaps to the extra stationed behind the counter, its face blank, innocent of anything like thought.

(Its cheery "hello!" goes unanswered.)

"Maybe so," he grants, thinking of Smecker surprising him in the sanctuary with a coat. "We all arrive here strangers."

He grabs a bag of chips off a rack, turns back to her. "Decide what you want then find a table."

Well at least the food is something familiar. Mattie casts a glare in Don's direction for his impoliteness and offers a small smile to the cheerful woman as she points out her sandwich selection. "And coffee, please, ma'am."

She knows well enough to take her hat off, too, and sets it on the table she picks, ignoring the fact that it (and she) isn't the cleanest thing in the world right now. "Then it behooves us to help one another."

Don settles up with the extra (Mattie's glare goes unacknowledged--she has countless reasons to wear that scowl and he doesn't have the time to sift through all of them) and joins Mattie at the table.

"What about the people you spoke to?" He pulls open his chips (his sole concession, along with the bottle of beer on the table, to their surroundings), nods permission for her to begin eating. "They any help?"

His tone is neutral, inquisitive.

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

[location: the sanctuary]

[location: the sanctuary]

[location: the sanctuary]

[location: the sanctuary]

[location: the sanctuary]

[location: the sanctuary]

[location: the sanctuary]

[location: the sanctuary]

[location: the sanctuary]

[location: the sanctuary]

[location: the sanctuary]

[location: the sanctuary and its environs]

[location: the sanctuary and its environs]

[location: the sanctuary and its environs]

[location: the sanctuary and its environs]

[location: the sanctuary and its environs]