Post by Lorpius Prime on Jun 16, 2009 3:37:16 GMT -5
"Theodore?" Reg asked, confused.
"At your service," the voice from the far cell called happily.
"So why does the—ah—General, why does he call you Phillip?"
"Because he is an insufferable braggart who believes himself to be disgustingly well informed," the voice said, still cheerful as ever.
Um… Reg didn't know how to respond to that, and so she didn't. The bars pressed against the top of her head as she continued to lean against them. After a minute, the man in the corner cell started whistling softly again. Reg wondered if it was an actual song; if it was, she didn't know it.
"So," the voice came again after a moment, "what brings you here this afternoon, madam?"
Reg tilted her head, messing up her hair against the bars. At the other corner of the little dungeon, she could see that the man, Theodore or Phillip or whoever, had gotten up and put his hands through the bars. That was all she could see of him, however, and they were covered in shadows so she couldn't make out any features.
"A bunch of costumed freaks," Reg snorted, "or maybe they really are the circus, I don't know. Or did you mean why they put me in here?"
"I did, yes."
"Well I don't know that," Reg said, affecting a smile she did not mean, "because they forgot to tell me anything while they were dragging me away!"
She grabbed the bars and shook them again, to no more effect than before.
"What about you?" she asked when she was finished.
"Hmm," the man said, "as it happened, they forgot to actually charge me with anything, either."
"Great, we can start a club. Hey, did they also try to tell you that you're actually from Mexico?"
"No, they did not," he said.
"Well, you're lucky then," Reg sighed.
"Yes, I am!" he chuckled. Then, after a pause, "May I ask your name, madam?"
"Uh…" Reg hesitated for a moment, but couldn't think of a reason not to tell him. "Regina Odette."
"And I am Theodore Eremitas. Pleased to meet you, Miss Odette—or is it Mrs.?"
"It's… well, why don't you just call me Reg?" Somehow it didn't feel right to be using formal address inside of a dungeon.
"Ah, very well then, Regina. Reg," for just a moment he seemed to lose the confident spring in his voice. But it quickly returned. "Hmmm… your name is English, but your accent does not sound as if it comes from the British islands. I will guess that you are… Canadian?"
Reg hit her head against the bars in front of her again, a little harder than she intended. She took a deep breath.
"No, I'm not, I'm—well actually, you're closer than anyone else so far," she admitted, "but no, I'm not Canadian. I'm an American."
"But not from Canada," Theodore said, he mulled this for a moment. "Virginia, then?"
Reg frowned, he was being awful specific. "Uh, no… California."
Theodore did not respond. After a minute or two of silence, Reg spoke up again.
"Hello? Theodore?"
"I am sorry!" he said hastily. "I am afraid that you have confused me. I may have misunderstood your earlier joke about Mexico."
Reg closed her eyes. She already knew where this was going. She had thought for a while that she had escaped from the lunatics. But now it seemed she must have been wrong.
"Please," she begged, "don't tell me that you think California's in Mexico too."
Theodore sounded as if he was picking his words very cautiously, "I suppose I may be unaware of some change in the territory, I do not follow the foreign news closely. But to the best of my knowledge, yes, California is a territory of Mexico."
Reg banged her head against the bar several more times, and with intentional force. She could feel tears in her eyes. How was this possible?
"Have you seriously not heard of the United States at all?" she pleaded.
There was another awkwardly long pause before Theodore responded. Finally, he said, "I… have heard of the United States…"
He trailed off, and Reg screwed up her eyes. "What does that mean?" she demanded, worry creeping into her voice.
"I believe that I have heard mention of a country called the United States, yes" Theodore said. His voice sounded distant and strange.
Reg had pulled her head back from the bars, and was now trying to get a better look at the man in the other cell. Still though, all she could see were Theodore's hands pushed through the bars. A sense of dread was rising within Reg. For whatever reason, she was less bothered by the people who hadn't seemed to have known about the USA at all than she was by the uncertainty in Theodore's voice. He had heard of the United States? That sounded like he wasn't sure if it existed or not.
Reg opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to think of anything to say. Eventually, Theodore broke the silence.
"Miss Ode—Reg," he said. His voice was no longer bright and cheerful, but calm and serious. "I think that I should hear the story of how you came to be here."
He didn't sound like the soldiers who'd interrogated her before, or Reg probably would have just dismissed the question with a sarcastic comment. She was getting fed up with the whole situation. It probably wouldn't be long before she just lied down on one of the cots behind her to sulk.
"I was on vacation," she said, and sighed. "I'm in Germany for the week, and today I was going to Neuschwanstein. Well, when I got off the bus I tried to take some pictures of the castle. But then I saw this guy walking down the side of the cliff, so I followed him. Just to see what he was doing.
"Anyway, he showed me this… I dunno what it was, some sort of carving. Someone had smoothed down a part of the rock on the cliff and carved a little design with an arch and an inscription into it. I tried to touch it and—well it was like a fell through it. I guess it was some kind of trap door. I came through into this weird dungeon place which was under the palace. It had the same sort of arch, but I couldn't figure out how to open it back up again. So I walked through another door, and that's when the guys in the circus outfits grabbed me and decided to lock me up for being Mexican."
Reg shook her head. "I should have let them take my phone…" she muttered to herself.
It seemed to take Theodore a few moments to process this story. Finally, he said, "You… fell through a stone archway?"
"Yeah, well that's what it felt like, anyway. I'm thinking it must have turned, and I just didn't see it because it was so fast and I was falling."
"And you said there was a man there who showed it to you?" Theodore asked, he sounded excited. "Who was he?"
"I—I don't know," Reg blinked, "he was on the bus with me. Had a broken arm."
"Was he German?"
"Well, I thought he was British. He had a thick accent, but it wasn't like the Germans I talked to. Why?"
Theodore ignored her, "But he didn't come through with you?"
"No…"
"Only you?"
"Well I sure didn't see anyone else!" Reg said, raising her voice slightly in frustration. "Are you expecting someone?"
"Yes," Theodore said.
Reg started to huff, but stopped at the sound of screeching metal. She winced as it sent a shiver up her spine. The screech ended with a heavy clang, and then was followed by a slightly lower squeal.
A man appeared in front of Reg's cell. She let out a startled gasp, and jumped backwards about a foot.
The man an inch or two shorter than Reg. His light-brown hair was short, but unkempt and filthy, possibly because he'd been in a prison cell for a while. He was plump, but looked as if he'd still lost a fair amount of weight recently, and his skin was loose on his broad face. But the tiny brown eyes that stared at Reg from that face were strong and focused.
Reg stammered, "H—how—?"
He cut her off "You came through the arch? You?"
"Yes," Reg said weakly. She was frightened now, both by the way he'd managed to escape from his cell, and the glare he was now giving her.
"And do you have any idea at all where you are? Do you have any idea why you're here?"
"I'm… This isn't Neuschwanstein?"
He didn't answer, but sucked in his lips and continued to stare at her. After a moment, he put one hand on the bars of her door and tapped his thumb against the iron. His eyes stayed focused on hers, considering, and Reg was too nervous to look away or say anything.
After a long while, he sighed and looked down at the floor.
"All right."
He was wearing a single loose and grimy shirt, pants that were held up by a rough cord tied around the waist, and sandals. It didn't look as if he could have concealed anything in those clothes, but he reached into the waist of his pants and drew out a long and ornate dagger. Reg's eyes bulged. The blade was almost a foot long and mounted to a black handle with a dark red jewel set into the base.
Reg's eyes followed the silvery blade as Theodore twirled the weapon in his hand, and then thrust it into the locking mechanism of the cell door.
This must have been how he opened his own cell. He twisted the blade, causing the mechanism to shriek and then click into place. Theodore pushed the unlocked door open as Reg just gaped at him.
He held out his free hand towards Reg.
"We must go," he said.
"At your service," the voice from the far cell called happily.
"So why does the—ah—General, why does he call you Phillip?"
"Because he is an insufferable braggart who believes himself to be disgustingly well informed," the voice said, still cheerful as ever.
Um… Reg didn't know how to respond to that, and so she didn't. The bars pressed against the top of her head as she continued to lean against them. After a minute, the man in the corner cell started whistling softly again. Reg wondered if it was an actual song; if it was, she didn't know it.
"So," the voice came again after a moment, "what brings you here this afternoon, madam?"
Reg tilted her head, messing up her hair against the bars. At the other corner of the little dungeon, she could see that the man, Theodore or Phillip or whoever, had gotten up and put his hands through the bars. That was all she could see of him, however, and they were covered in shadows so she couldn't make out any features.
"A bunch of costumed freaks," Reg snorted, "or maybe they really are the circus, I don't know. Or did you mean why they put me in here?"
"I did, yes."
"Well I don't know that," Reg said, affecting a smile she did not mean, "because they forgot to tell me anything while they were dragging me away!"
She grabbed the bars and shook them again, to no more effect than before.
"What about you?" she asked when she was finished.
"Hmm," the man said, "as it happened, they forgot to actually charge me with anything, either."
"Great, we can start a club. Hey, did they also try to tell you that you're actually from Mexico?"
"No, they did not," he said.
"Well, you're lucky then," Reg sighed.
"Yes, I am!" he chuckled. Then, after a pause, "May I ask your name, madam?"
"Uh…" Reg hesitated for a moment, but couldn't think of a reason not to tell him. "Regina Odette."
"And I am Theodore Eremitas. Pleased to meet you, Miss Odette—or is it Mrs.?"
"It's… well, why don't you just call me Reg?" Somehow it didn't feel right to be using formal address inside of a dungeon.
"Ah, very well then, Regina. Reg," for just a moment he seemed to lose the confident spring in his voice. But it quickly returned. "Hmmm… your name is English, but your accent does not sound as if it comes from the British islands. I will guess that you are… Canadian?"
Reg hit her head against the bars in front of her again, a little harder than she intended. She took a deep breath.
"No, I'm not, I'm—well actually, you're closer than anyone else so far," she admitted, "but no, I'm not Canadian. I'm an American."
"But not from Canada," Theodore said, he mulled this for a moment. "Virginia, then?"
Reg frowned, he was being awful specific. "Uh, no… California."
Theodore did not respond. After a minute or two of silence, Reg spoke up again.
"Hello? Theodore?"
"I am sorry!" he said hastily. "I am afraid that you have confused me. I may have misunderstood your earlier joke about Mexico."
Reg closed her eyes. She already knew where this was going. She had thought for a while that she had escaped from the lunatics. But now it seemed she must have been wrong.
"Please," she begged, "don't tell me that you think California's in Mexico too."
Theodore sounded as if he was picking his words very cautiously, "I suppose I may be unaware of some change in the territory, I do not follow the foreign news closely. But to the best of my knowledge, yes, California is a territory of Mexico."
Reg banged her head against the bar several more times, and with intentional force. She could feel tears in her eyes. How was this possible?
"Have you seriously not heard of the United States at all?" she pleaded.
There was another awkwardly long pause before Theodore responded. Finally, he said, "I… have heard of the United States…"
He trailed off, and Reg screwed up her eyes. "What does that mean?" she demanded, worry creeping into her voice.
"I believe that I have heard mention of a country called the United States, yes" Theodore said. His voice sounded distant and strange.
Reg had pulled her head back from the bars, and was now trying to get a better look at the man in the other cell. Still though, all she could see were Theodore's hands pushed through the bars. A sense of dread was rising within Reg. For whatever reason, she was less bothered by the people who hadn't seemed to have known about the USA at all than she was by the uncertainty in Theodore's voice. He had heard of the United States? That sounded like he wasn't sure if it existed or not.
Reg opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to think of anything to say. Eventually, Theodore broke the silence.
"Miss Ode—Reg," he said. His voice was no longer bright and cheerful, but calm and serious. "I think that I should hear the story of how you came to be here."
He didn't sound like the soldiers who'd interrogated her before, or Reg probably would have just dismissed the question with a sarcastic comment. She was getting fed up with the whole situation. It probably wouldn't be long before she just lied down on one of the cots behind her to sulk.
"I was on vacation," she said, and sighed. "I'm in Germany for the week, and today I was going to Neuschwanstein. Well, when I got off the bus I tried to take some pictures of the castle. But then I saw this guy walking down the side of the cliff, so I followed him. Just to see what he was doing.
"Anyway, he showed me this… I dunno what it was, some sort of carving. Someone had smoothed down a part of the rock on the cliff and carved a little design with an arch and an inscription into it. I tried to touch it and—well it was like a fell through it. I guess it was some kind of trap door. I came through into this weird dungeon place which was under the palace. It had the same sort of arch, but I couldn't figure out how to open it back up again. So I walked through another door, and that's when the guys in the circus outfits grabbed me and decided to lock me up for being Mexican."
Reg shook her head. "I should have let them take my phone…" she muttered to herself.
It seemed to take Theodore a few moments to process this story. Finally, he said, "You… fell through a stone archway?"
"Yeah, well that's what it felt like, anyway. I'm thinking it must have turned, and I just didn't see it because it was so fast and I was falling."
"And you said there was a man there who showed it to you?" Theodore asked, he sounded excited. "Who was he?"
"I—I don't know," Reg blinked, "he was on the bus with me. Had a broken arm."
"Was he German?"
"Well, I thought he was British. He had a thick accent, but it wasn't like the Germans I talked to. Why?"
Theodore ignored her, "But he didn't come through with you?"
"No…"
"Only you?"
"Well I sure didn't see anyone else!" Reg said, raising her voice slightly in frustration. "Are you expecting someone?"
"Yes," Theodore said.
Reg started to huff, but stopped at the sound of screeching metal. She winced as it sent a shiver up her spine. The screech ended with a heavy clang, and then was followed by a slightly lower squeal.
A man appeared in front of Reg's cell. She let out a startled gasp, and jumped backwards about a foot.
The man an inch or two shorter than Reg. His light-brown hair was short, but unkempt and filthy, possibly because he'd been in a prison cell for a while. He was plump, but looked as if he'd still lost a fair amount of weight recently, and his skin was loose on his broad face. But the tiny brown eyes that stared at Reg from that face were strong and focused.
Reg stammered, "H—how—?"
He cut her off "You came through the arch? You?"
"Yes," Reg said weakly. She was frightened now, both by the way he'd managed to escape from his cell, and the glare he was now giving her.
"And do you have any idea at all where you are? Do you have any idea why you're here?"
"I'm… This isn't Neuschwanstein?"
He didn't answer, but sucked in his lips and continued to stare at her. After a moment, he put one hand on the bars of her door and tapped his thumb against the iron. His eyes stayed focused on hers, considering, and Reg was too nervous to look away or say anything.
After a long while, he sighed and looked down at the floor.
"All right."
He was wearing a single loose and grimy shirt, pants that were held up by a rough cord tied around the waist, and sandals. It didn't look as if he could have concealed anything in those clothes, but he reached into the waist of his pants and drew out a long and ornate dagger. Reg's eyes bulged. The blade was almost a foot long and mounted to a black handle with a dark red jewel set into the base.
Reg's eyes followed the silvery blade as Theodore twirled the weapon in his hand, and then thrust it into the locking mechanism of the cell door.
This must have been how he opened his own cell. He twisted the blade, causing the mechanism to shriek and then click into place. Theodore pushed the unlocked door open as Reg just gaped at him.
He held out his free hand towards Reg.
"We must go," he said.