Hello everyone! I apologize deeply for leaving you all for so long. I suppose you can all thank the holidays for that. Did everyone have fun? Does everyone like this story? I hope. Anyway, as usual, this is for my own amusement only; I'm making no cash on the deal.
//blah blah blah// = Thoughts.
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Upon walking in her door, Sasha booted up her stereo and swung open her pantry, staring into the vast and shallow unknown. "Yeahh" she groaned, looking around the dim kitchen then back in the pantry, as if anything edible would magically and quickly appear. There was an open pack of graham crackers, some unopened bottles of beer, and a few packages of Ramen noodles.
"Note to self. Find human food. Right after find a hot man with a nice paying job." Sasha smiled weakly at her pathetic joke and poured the uncooked clump of soup into a bowl. She stuck it in the microwave and set it for five minutes and sighed. Now what? Should she change? Shower? Sit down and rest?
As the other two options usually took time, she grabbed her leopard slippers, a purple shirt, and black track pants. At least if she got the dreaded phone call and had to run out fast, she was dressed.
"Has it been five minutes yet?" she groaned to a lamp. "I'm hungry." Of course silence. Had she really been expecting the inanimate object to answer?
Indeed, she soon saw her beloved food had been indeed cooking for much longer than necessary. The timer read 42:50.
"What the-" she grabbed a towel to substitute as a pot-holder, pressed the 'cancel' button and opened the door.
Well, what happened next… she wasn't really sure. There were flashes of green light, a strong ass gust of wind, and a liquidly substance Sasha prayed to God wasn't blood. Even in her chosen field, blood was not a strong love. She tilted her head so the liquid wouldn't interfere with her breathing and wondered how the hell she would explain all this to her landlord. Fuck, explaining it to HERSELF first.
Wait, was she alive? She couldn't even tell if she was hurt. She felt nothing.
Save for annoyance.
Although she could not understand the words, she was damn well aware enough someone was talking to her. Was it the fire department? Brilliant. A gorgeous firefighter and she probably looked like hell. Just her luck. She knew she was on the receiving end of the conversation because the oh so gorgeous hunk kept shaking her shoulder.
"You know where I come from," she opened her eyes and tried to sit up. "Most firefighters use the kiss of life. CPR."
"My lady, CPR?"
"Mmmphh. Don't make me laugh. Pain."
"What kind of pain?"
Great, a comedian. "The kind that hurts."
"Where does it hurt, my lady?"
//Where the hell should I start??// "No, I'm fine. Really. It's more shock then anything I'm figuring. Now I don't know how I got outside, but point me to the nearest phone and I'll be gone. Ok?"
"What is… what is a phone?"
Maybe she was in a foreign district. "Phone," she repeated, placing her thumb and pinky by her mouth. "Have you got one?"
"N-no…"
"Of course. Hey, it's alright. I've got a girlfriend who *always* denies having a phone to strangers. Just point me to one like I said before, it's cool. No hard feelings."
Of course this Ren-faire escapee wouldn't have a phone. Where would he put it?
No place she wanted to know about.
Finally able to stand, she was relieved to see her puddle was only water. Muddy water, but water nonetheless.
"So are you involved with SCA or something? Most people don't really run around dressed like you."
Maybe he was a fire-fighter with a 'special' hobby.
"They don't?" he laughed, "Shame. I suppose they are missing out. As for your question my lady, what is a SCA?"
Damn! These role-players were really into character! They wouldn't even admit to being one. Unless this dude was a rival of the SCA. Wait, do role-playing groups even have rivals?
"Ok," she laughed weakly. "I'm getting a little tired of these games so I'm going. Ok, bye!" she moved a step back and waved.
"My lady, where are you going all alone?"
"Home. I'm going home. Look, I figure you're some diplomat's son, which is pretty cool. You've got yourself a…" she trailed off thinking for a second, "a hobby and although it's not to my taste, good for you. But I'm not one for the past, I need to keep a sharp eye on the future. So, um, bye."
"My lady, I do not think you should travel alone."
"Nonsense. I've lived here for years. Tell me where I am, and I'll be fine."
"The lady is in Bree."
"Bree? I'm in Bree?" //Where the fuck is that?//
He nodded. "Aye."
"And that would be, where?"
He smiled. "And what happened to 'I will be fine?'"
"Where the hell is Bree?" Sasha didn't like this run-around. He didn't appear to set off her danger antennae, but why all the secrecy?
"Ok," she said softly, using her slow and deep dealing with a suspect voice. "I'm going to ask you this one time, and one time only. I expect a straight answer. Where is this Bree?"
He did sound foreign, maybe she just had to slow down and speak calmly.
He stared at her as though she were the one who was slow and foreign.
"It's in Middle-Earth."
