maskormenacelogs | [CLOSED] do you know where you are?

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[CLOSED] do you know where you are?

WHO: Maeve Millay and Teddy Flood
WHERE: Somewhere off the beaten trail. Probably Heropa
WHEN: Upon arrival
WHAT: Maeve sees a familiar face in a mass of unfamiliar faces and decides to latch onto it.
WARNINGS: Some serious Westworld Spoilers!! Tread carefully.

[ When Maeve had it in her mind that she wished to escape into the world of the guests, this was not how she anticipated it happening. Stepping out of Cape Canaveral, she half expected the entire building to detonate because of the explosive charge in her spine. But for some reason, it didn't happen. Had Felix and Sylvester been lying to her? No. She had seen her data. She had seen what everything in her world was made up of. So this was something else. Something else entirely.

They treated her like she was one of them, handed her a file with her 'information', drove her to the nearest porter and left her to figure the rest out on her own. Of course, Maeve -- naturally distrustful -- didn't use the porter. Instead, she headed out into the city. Where she was going? She didn't have the damnedest clue. But she was just looking for something familiar. Something to help her process this whole thing.

And after nearly being hit by a few honking hover cars or bumping into people as she took in the flashing fluorescent lights outside of shops -- Maeve turned suddenly and spotted that one familiar thing. Black hat. Cowboy Swagger. Teddy Flood -- expert adventurer. Maeve was so relieved, she could kiss him.

But she wasn't going to. ]

Aren't you a sight for sore eyes? I don't suppose you know where we are?

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[ Teddy had left the file behind. It hadn't looked like anything to him, anyway. Nothing important.

Besides, when it comes to roaming into the unknown, he's used to having nothing more than his wits and his sidearm. A horse, if he's lucky. He'd even had one with him, but the animal was in a bad way (had stopped operating) and left in the hands of handlers (technicians) until it could come right again. In any case, you make a place's acquaintance faster on your own two feet, and when Maeve finds him, that's exactly what Theodore Flood is attempting to do.

The terrain is smooth. The noise of the city, borderline overbearing. He is remembering Dolores dying in his arms and feels oddly hollow. A man who is progressing past the final chapter, beyond its epilogue, of the story that defined him.

Likewise, he hasn't detonated either.

At the sound of Maeve's voice, Teddy steers his gaze sharply towards her. It's not exactly relief that floods his expression, but it's a brightening, a liveliness that animates him out of defensive neutrality upon clapping his eyes on the familiar, even if it's the madam of the Mariposa. She's rewarded with an understated smile as he moves towards her. In all the busy colours and movement of the street, he is steady, patient, clothed in sedate, dusty grey. ]

No ma'am, [ he says, glancing to the left as a car without wheels glides by. ] And I don't care to stay long. You alone?

Well, there's certainly no one else here I know so far, if that's what you mean. But otherwise, I'm far more choosy about who I keep for company than to seek it out of the men who have abducted me. I do have standards, darling.

[ Because that's what this is, isn't it? An abduction. Now, is it part of the story? A new narrative of which she wasn't aware or is it something else? That is what she can't quite discern. But she does look a slightly more horrified of the car going by than Teddy. ]

Whatever the case, I have a feeling we are an awful long way from Sweetwater.

[ Tolerant as ever to Maeve's maeving, Teddy neither confirms nor denies what he might have meant -- the question is answered all the same. The stares they attract don't phase him either, and are usually returned with the sort of stare that suggests onlookers ought to keep moving, and soon enough, Teddy takes his own advice.

Not away, but with, stepping to draw Maeve along, a hand light at her elbow. Gentlemanly as ever. ]

Fortunately for us, all paths tend to lead back there, [ is more philosophical than practical, but regardless: having a purpose is important. Seeing Maeve home is purpose enough, for now. ] What say we find a place to hunker down for the evening? Chances are they'll know which way to point a couple of lost souls.

[ He's seen strange places, in his time, both practically as well as in false memories. He's taken guests to the outer edges of the park and back, and while towns have their quirks, this place is pushing it. Still, there's no notion of some place out, some place beyond.

He doesn't know how they got here, but he envisions the journey home as being via dusty road and horse hooves. ]

[ Maeve allows Teddy's touch and his guidance. She would be a fool to not let the programmed adventurer take the lead. His chivalry would have him act as her shield should they run into danger, if nothing else. And with a saucy swagger, Maeve follows Teddy without protest. Though she does quip back: ]

Even if we are in a different place, my prices still do stand.

[ Not that Teddy would try anything. Not that he's ever tried anything. But the banter feels natural. And Maeve is still seeking out that familiarity. But she can't help but look at Teddy and cock her head with curiosity. ]

What is the last thing you remember from home?

I prefer to earn a woman's affections than pay for it, [ is the line, out of order, but the cycle of banter is what matters. ] No offence meant.

[ But she asks him what he remembers, and there's an intersecting moment there when there is the expectation of seeing a glimpse of Dolores through the people passing by, through a window, and memory. The earthy, organic smell of blood mingled in the wind coming off all that salt water. Dolores' hands turned cold, touching his face. It didn't feel real, but it abruptly feels realer than the present moment.

He doesn't pause walking, but his expression changes, eyes glassier, ease gone. Maeve has been told: they remember things differently.

There's a reason they're always reset. Usually.

He doesn't stop suddenly, nor stagger, just slows, as if moving through a dream, the hand on Maeve's arm negligently placed there. ]

Edited 2017-01-06 05:38 (UTC)

[ Reveries. Memories. Teddy has the distant look of a man who's lost in them. And sometimes, being lost in those memories can be dangerous. These violent delights have violent ends. Maeve is still coated in the blood of Clementine 2.0. So, rather than allow it to reach any moment where it could potentially become violent, Maeve quickly takes on an authoritative tone: ]

Analysis. [ It would spare Teddy from having to live the memories and get Maeve her answers. She just hopes her authorization remains in tact, even in this world. ] What is the last thing you remember, Teddy?

[ She stops walking and watches him with interest. ]

[ The peace that analysis mode seems to bring cloaks emotional affect and halts that downwards spiral of memory. Teddy grinds to a halt, looking at the air some few inches to the left of Maeve's face. All those little tensions banished, which mostly indicates how many there had been, roaming these alien streets.

It's hard to be unable to understand so much of what you see. But like this, he offers, easily; ]

Dolores. [ Of course. ] She was hurt, real bad. We rode out to where the mountains meet the sea, and I held her. Last thing I remember was her dying in my arms. And then nothing at all.

[ He hadn't seen the spotlight. The people. He barely remembers what he said. ]

[ That doesn't really help Maeve place a time to things. Actually, it's not very helpful at all. But it is good to know what he had gone through. Maeve doesn't release Teddy from Analysis mode, not yet. ]

And what hurt her? Or rather, who?

[ It could be the cheap thrills of a random guest. Or it could be something deeper going on. There's always something deeper in this sick, sadistic playground. Perhaps Dolores was nothing more than a toy to them the way Maeve's Clementine had been. Maybe there's a connection. And Teddy, poor clueless Teddy could hold the answer to that question. ]

A newcomer.

[ It had been a blur of action. That is, if you're a regular human. Blur becomes clearer when you've the processing power to decipher it. ]

A man, all in black. Old son of a bitch. They'd been fighting. She'd hurt him. He took a knife to her, and I gunned him down.

She didn't say why.

[ A man, all in black. Old son of a bitch. He took a knife to her... Maeve hears the words and they trigger a horrible memory. That same man, breaking into her home -- taking a knife to her and gunning down her daughter. The memory so vivid, so horrifying it takes a few moments for her to recover. And she does so with a shuddering breath, nearly staggering in the process.

There is a connection. Who was that man? What was his purpose? But Maeve has a feeling Teddy doesn't know the answers anymore than she does. ]

T-that will be all, Theodore.

[ She releases him from analysis and then clutches his arm just a bit tighter as they walk. ]

Why ask the locals when I see a suitable place to stay up ahead? It seems as though they have vacancies as well. [ If the neon flashing sign is anything to go by. ]

[ Waking up from analysis, Teddy has that brief look of someone stepping out of a deep daydream, blinking once, walking absently enough that for a second, Maeve is the one leading him. But it's over again as she gets him back on track, and that peculiar, fresh grief is left behind.

Mostly. He gains back his momentum, but there's a sombre tinge to his manner even as he glances forward, the glaring of artificial light throwing its queasy colours around. ]

It'll do us, [ he agrees. ] Least until we get some sense of how far out we've been deviated.

[ One thing at a time, really. That's almost exclusively how he works. With a little more purpose, he leads the way towards the motel, regarding its street-facing front with a little doubt, but enough to dissuade. ]

I would imagine we're worlds apart from where we were.

[ Literally. Worlds. Yeah, it makes no sense to Maeve either. But she's willing to believe anything is possible. As they step into the less expensive motel, Maeve approaches the man behind the desk and leans over to whisper something at him. In a matter of seconds, that man smiles in greeting to both her and Teddy, reaching out for a room key before handing it over while stating: ImPorts always stay for free.

They don't in reality. That was Maeve's manipulation. But she's not going to let on a thing to Teddy. ]

Well, wasn't that kind? I think he likes you. [ A teasing remark tossed back at Teddy as she snatches that key and starts to lead the way deeper into the motel. ]

[ You have to hand it to Teddy -- he's good at rolling with it in general. He tips his hat to the man behind the counter and follows Maeve into the motel with amusement writ only subtly in his expression.

Hand on gun, he's a suspicious sort of shadow, and once they arrive at the door-- ]

May I?

[ Hand out for the keys. ]

[ Maeve hands him the key with a sweeping gesture of her hand as though to say go right ahead. Of course, such an action couldn't go without comment. ]

Always a gentleman. Do you ask your ladies permission before you finish in bed, too?

[ Her eyebrows quirk teasingly, a hand rests on her hip and Maeve awaits that door opening so that the pair of them can find a brief respite from the madness of this world. ]

[ Teddy only rewards that remark with a side-along glance as he unlocks the door, and rather than gallantly waving her in, he shoulders in first. The dimensions aren't exactly so elaborate that it takes him long to check it out -- a double bed takes up most of the space, a kitchenette tucked against the wall, and a modest bathroom that he opens up to look into as well.

Nothing untoward, save for maybe some of the water stains on the ceiling in the far corner. A glance backwards either confirms that Maeve tailed in after him, or he tips his head in invitation, placing the key down on the countertop.

The room is quiet, dim, and doesn't teem with the unfamiliar. Teddy makes for the window, then, where the world is covered by vertical blinds. Curious, he parts them with his fingers, and stares out into the street, where hovercars hurtle down it at a glide. Maybe, for a moment, he sees it for what it is. ]

You ever see anything like this? [ You know, in England. ]

It's all quite new to me.

[ Maeve confesses, following him in and closing the door behind her. She slides the locks into place before taking up occupancy on the edge of the bed. Her eyes drift to Teddy and she watches him for a moment, wondering if perhaps he can see things past their parameters.

Setting her folder on the bed beside her, Maeve's eyes drift toward a mirror on the wall adjacent to the bed. And it's only then that she catches sight of the small flecks of Clementine's blood that speckle the side of her face and neck. She reaches out to touch them, momentarily lost in a reverie. And then: ]

Clementine is dead.

[ Not the new Clementine. Not the one she had killed. Her Clementine. ]

[ That draws Teddy a little away from the window, tipping his attention back to her, hard to read in the half-shadows. He lets the blinds fall where they may, roaming towards where an armchair slouches in the corner. ]

One of your girls, [ he says.

He takes off his hat, and his gun out of its holster, before he settles into a comfortable sit, the kind that implies he'll be content there in place of the bed at any point. The hat is placed beside him and he checks his gun with idle hands, cutting a glance to Maeve as he does so. The gentle click and whir of metal and moving parts underscores his words. ]

What happened?

Edited 2017-01-13 08:40 (UTC)

[ Maeve looks at Teddy, staring at him for a prolonged moment of silence. There's some sort of internal debate. She could wind up glitching him out if she says too much. But she can also bring him back online if she does. So Maeve starts gently -- soft in a way she's never been. Not around Teddy. Not in the Mariposa. ]

Have you ever seen the men in the strange suits?

[ Her eyes drift around the room, seeking out something to draw on. She spots a little memo pad and pen. Snatching it up, Maeve uses it to do a quick sketch of the technicians who come to retrieve them when they 'die.' Teddy's died enough times to have encountered them, but it might also be buried deep in his memories.

She hands him the pad. ]

They show up in the dead of night, when we're asleep and take us from our world. I know it sounds crazy. But I've seen it. With my own eyes.

[ Teddy accepts the pad, all respectful listening silence, even as his brow twinges a little at this particular line of conversation. He looks down at the drawing, and he stays looking for a few seconds.

But the look he tilts back up at her has that little spark of humour, uncertain though it is. ]

You going native on me?

[ He offers it back to her, nodding at it. ] They say they see these fellas in their dreams. Messengers sent from the spirit world, though I ain't heard of 'em taking people for a ride back with 'em.

[ Well. It's a start. Teddy might not recall his own encounters with them, which is surprising given how many times he's died! But he at least knows the lore. He at least is open to understanding their appearance. ]

They're not spirits. They're not gods. They're just men. I thought I was going mad at first. I chased the stories out of desperation and it led me straight to Hector Escaton. He told me of this lore. But it's far more than that.

[ She glances at Teddy with a thoughtful frown. ]

I'm not certain you're ready to understand.

[ His eyes are clear -- dare we say, empty -- of comprehension when she elaborates. A hint of concern, probably, and a twinge of recognition for one of the more notorious bandits circling Sweetwater, but nothing that she can use.

He's lived a lifetime of staying placidly immune to Dolores' moments of revelation. But eventually, something has to give. ]

Maybe, maybe not. I've had my share of nightmares. Lost people who were close to me too.

[ Maybe this girl meant something special to Maeve. Who is he to judge? And he isn't talking about Dolores, running through script that never accounted for her being someone he might be referring to, but the memory that perhaps he ought to be flinches across his face.

Locked down again. He looks back down at his revolver, closing it, balancing it in his hand on his knee. ]

You oughta get some rest. I can take watch.

[ Most unfortunate. Maeve's shoulders sink a bit in disappointment when Teddy answers in a way that doesn't question what's she's saying. He's sticking to the script and all the parameters that kept him from wondering about his reality. She shakes her head. ]

I don't want to rest. I want answers.

[ And at that point, Maeve pulls out her communicator, studying it, turning it over in her hand. And then: ]

From my understanding, these devices are supposed to put us in touch with others who arrived here in a similar manner to us.

[ Which leads them directly into their network post. ]

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[CLOSED] do you know where you are?

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