World Tree MUSH

Neviah Younger has been out in Egypt for the past few days. The word got out to the papers late, some circulating the city proper, others posted on the types of hiring boards and eventually electronic forums frequented by adventurers: Cambridge professor hiring intrepid and tough wanderers for exploration of lost world. Bring muscle. Some of those postings only made it online a day or two after Neviah made it to the site.

She'd been there exploring, but today she's hustling back upon the horrifying realization that she forgot something. Her office is somewhere up in the complex anthill of late medieval buildings comprising Trinity College, one of Cambridge's older rooms. The office itself is packed with books, chunks of pottery and odd artifacts that look like they don't belong on this plane of existence, much less in the late 1890s, and a big desk covered in papers and books, home to a large professor's chair and a couple seats for inquiring students. There's a narrow window that looks out onto the even narrower street. Not the most glamorous office in the world, perhaps, but it's hers.

Right now she can't seem to figure out where the key to it is on her keychain. "Bother!" she grumbles as she plays with the handle again.

It gives without her having to put the key in. The dark-haired professor blinks once. She could've sworn she locked the door.

Gingerly, she leans forward. Her head and shoulders slowly emerge through the doorframe.

"...Is someone here?"

Juniper (no surname she cares to use) has come on hard luck lately. Her original stash of cash is almost all expended; she still has a little, she's in no danger of going hungry yet, but it's getting harder and harder for her to convince herself to part with any as the total gets smaller and smaller. 

Which means she's looking for a job, ideally one that involves travel. And she found one! There was just one problem: the person who was hiring was, by the time she got there, apparently not present. Someone suggested she wait, neatly out of sight and out of mind, and Juniper - not knowing any better how Trinity College works - took them up on it.

So Neviah can tell that there is definitely someone in here. It's easy to tell for a simple reason:

One of the students' chairs is tilted back at a dangerously sharp angle as someone sits in it, pushing it to that angle with her feet. In the chair is a short woman - seventeen or eighteen at a best guess, five two in her boots - wearing an outfit that fits in this place about as well as a neon sign would. A button-up plaid shirt in red and black long enough to fall past her hips, left open and unbuttoned over a lemon yellow tube top; jeans that are baggy below the hip enough to completely hide her legs, just a hair too long and mostly covering sneakers. No obvious weapons, at least.

Judging by the crunching noise that starts hastily, the student (?) also found Neviah's courtesy mints. It's okay. She only took two. 

"Finally!" Juni says once she's swallowed, tilting her head far back and leaning the chair even further so she can look at the door, halfway to upside down. She lets the chair tilt back forward, landing all four legs on the ground with a thump as she stands up. "I thought nobody would ever get here."

Surnames are for stuffy Victorians. Case in point: Neviah Younger, Professor of World Tree Studies. For all that she has a fancy title, she doesn't look older than twenty, maybe a couple years more if you push it. Someone's precocious.

Neviah almost doesn't realize the chair's still there, so cranked back is it. She pauses and blinks, only to raise her eyebrows as it occurs to her that someone is /in/ the chair. "Oh-- I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had kept you waiting," she apologizes as she eases the door closed with a click. "Are you one of the students?"

Immediately she makes an internal guess: 'No.' Her students don't normally wear lemon yellow tank tops on campus. Nevertheless she circles around to her desk and pulls her chair out. "Or was there another inquiry?"

Neviah's eyes dart to the small jar on her desk. It is normally full of mints.

There are still mints. And, inexplicably, a few wrapped pieces of Turkish delight.

Juniper did not take any Turkish delight, because as is tradition, those always get left for last in any mixed group of candies. Also, she'd never had it before and didn't want to take something mysterious.

Neviah also will notice that her desk has otherwise been scrupulously left alone. No paper is out of place, no artifact mysteriously absent. Juni did indeed look at the ones on display but she didn't touch anything, or if she did she put it right back, nobody the wiser.

"I don't think they'd take me," Juniper says, with a very slight smile. "It takes an awful lot of money, and I don't think they'd take my grades either." She's certainly not local - no British accent, not Cambridgeshire or any other. She's the sort of person that the locals would call 'the colonials' even though, technically, they aren't any more.

She looks Neviah up and down once, thoughtfully, then lets out a nod to herself. "My name is Juniper. I came about your hiring call, actually. Heard you needed some muscle for an expedition out in the middle of nowhere?"

Neviah takes a piece of the Turkish delight, the monster. She unwraps it delicately and nibbles.

The desk is covered not only with paperwork and books, but a few pieces of pottery. The most notable is an ancient-looking vase with motifs that look vaguely Egyptian, faded in places and riddled with cracks but still mostly intact. Neviah carefully eases the pot to one side as she flicks her eyes over the other woman, making a few quick assessments.

No accent. Fashion sense that would annihilate the sensibilities of the faculty. Feet on the desk. Yeah, definitely no student.

"Hello, Juniper. I'm Neviah Younger from the Faculty of Multiversal Studies." She carefully omits that there isn't really a faculty for that - just her, maybe one or two part-timers and anyone she dragoons into her expeditions.

Her eyebrows come up - her second suspicion is quickly confirmed. "Oh, some of the postings must have gone up late," she apologizes with a blush. "Though as it happens, yes, you are here at a good time. I have just come back from the site - in Egypt, as it were - and will be returning once I collect a few things. We are to explore a part of the World Tree that has not been seen in perhaps hundreds of years, and we do rather expect trouble."

She indicates the pot with a gesture. "The world has been lost for a long time - it has essentially been absorbed into the World Tree. I've sought surviving pieces of it for a long time."

Neviah hasn't quite realized a shared connection yet.

At least Juni has her feet on the floor *now*. No footprints in awkward-to-clean places.

When Neviah brings up a 'Faculty of Multiversal Studies', Juniper's eyebrows go up slightly. "You'd think more places would set up one of those," she says. "Sometimes you just have to know that kind of thing." She may not realize quite how poorly supported (and, presumably, funded) they are.

"Well, lucky me." Juni grins, slightly, at the timing. "Better than being lost in this office forever. I figured I was going to have to bail soon to get something to eat, even if my patience held out. I only brought a couple hours' of music." None was playing when Neviah got here. 

Compared to Neviah, Juniper realizes she is being awfully casual. She chalks it up to British stuffiness and the year to which she's managed to bring herself. "Egypt, hmm? Never been there, and I certainly haven't been to wherever you're going from there if it's not been seen for centuries. I'm interested, assuming you don't see anything wrong with hiring me after all. I don't know if you're all filled up or... whatever."

Juniper doesn't recognize a shared connection, either. Her grasp of history (multiversal or otherwise) is probably not as good as Neviah's.

Neviah smiles faintly and folds her hands on the desktop. "Many places have. It is a newer field of study here, but other worlds and other people have also pursued the study of the World Tree. Much is still mysterious about it, of course."

The other woman's grin is energizing despite Neviah's efforts to remain the Victorian poise and grace she's been forced to adopt over the years. Something in her psyche initially wants to ask Juniper to straighten up and button her shirt, but it's being pushed aside by a desire to be polite and go along with the warmth her guest is showing. "I hope you would have found something decent. There is good food to be found, provided you avoid the jellied eel sellers."

Every civilized person should avoid the jellied eel sellers. Thanks a lot, Britannia.

She brushes a curl back into place before clasping her hands one over the other on the tabletop. "Well, are you a fighter, then?" she asks. "You'll forgive me if I ask what sort of skills you have - just for the sake of knowing all the variables. But if you are capable, certainly there would be room for another."

Juniper makes a face at the very concept of 'jellied eel sellers'.

She's brave. She's willing to try a lot of new things. She's certainly willing to experiment with local cuisine as a matter of fact. Jellied eels, however, are a line too far. "I saw some fish on the way in," is what she actually says, because you can't go to England (and she has never been before) without getting fish and chips. 

Is she going to have to get an advance to buy it? She's thinking about it. She *can* cover it, but...

"Oh, of course," Juni says. "Right! You'd need to know that. I'm a brawler," she agrees, which probably counts as a 'fighter'. "I'm fast and I'm strong enough and I've got a few extra tricks up my sleeves." She pushes the sleeves of her overshirt up for emphasis, though they slide back down pretty soon afterwards. "I don't know a whole lot about archaeology though, so don't ask for help with that part. Or Egypt, for that matter. Wait, is this the pyramids you're going to? I heard they were cursed, is that actually serious or not?"

"If you need a meal, we can always pick up fish and chips, yes," Neviah invites. "There is also the option to carry some along." Fish and chips in their modern form have been around for a few decades, and they're regular visitors to Neviah's tummy. She is, at least, kind enough to clean up the boxes.

The young professor's eyebrows rise with interest as Juniper flaunts her muscles, though only briefly. "Extra tricks, you say? I trust they are excellent. Out of curiosity, what sort of world do you come from?" It's clear enough that Juniper's not from this Earth - no one from the late 1890s dresses like that, talks like that, or puts their feet on her desk and nibbles her mints while listening to portable music. "There are some with us now from a more advanced world, and a young warlock from the same world we are exploring. The same one I come from, as it happens."

At the last, Neviah purses her lips and looks to the pot, then back. "Not quite," she explains. "The curses are a myth. What this place is seems rather different. It is in a cave in a very remote part of the desert - a gateway between this Earth and what little is left of the world I come from. It was apparently closed off thousands of years ago after some sort of conflict, but the seal has faded away and the Vine between the worlds is open again. We are not sure what lies beyond the Vine. Another cave, a pyramid, something else entirely...."

"I can punch lightning," Juniper says, with absolutely no self-consciousness. "Among other things. Lightning's easy, though. I just don't think I should demonstrate in here."

One, because there is nothing she wants to punch, and two, because starting a fire doing it would probably not be her best route to get hired.

What sort of world does she come from? "I grew up in Toronto," she says, before her brows furrow. "Maybe it's still York now? I don't know when it changed names. Just off by about a hundred years. I've been to places that are further back in technology and such but this *feels* older. I guess because it's close enough to be familiar?"

Juniper is at least relieved to hear that she might not be cursed. "Great, I'd rather not be turned into a frog or whatever they do. But going into somewhere that nobody's been in for that long? Sounds interesting. I bet there's *something* there, or else why would you close it up?"

Neviah tilts her head as her brain puts together what she knows as distant imperial geography. "Oh, yes, in Canada. I've never been, myself. I am glad it is still there in your time. I hope your history was kind to it."

The professor moves the pot over on the table to centre it once more. She handles it with care, turning to show it off to Juniper. "This came from the site," she explains. "Do you see the figures on the side - the ones who look like people with swords, but have snake-like features? We think that such creatures came through into this Earth, thousands of years ago. However the conflict went, the early Pharaohs closed off the gate behind a seal to try and break the connection."

Neviah looks up over the rim of the pot to give Juniper an assessing look. Her lips come together pensively. "Lightning? So you have some magical ability? Is that... typical for Canadians?"

That's not standard Torontonian fare, as far as she's aware. Unless her visitor's from one of those magic Earths.

Juniper stands up so she can lean forward for a better look at the pot. "Yeah, I see them. I've never seen anything like them before," which doesn't really mean a whole lot, but if she had might have saved some time. "If this means the people who yell about lizard people in government are right though I'm gonna eat my shirt."

Pause. "Not literally. I'm not *that* hungry." She's not sure if that kind of humour translates to Early British.

She straightens again. "Don't blame the Pharaohs for closing the door on them, though. And that's what you're opening again? Well, it's probably not the same guys on the other side anymore so it should be fine. Hopefully."

Is magic typical for Canadians? "Uh, not really. I'd rather not talk about the whys, though. You can just trust me that I can do it, or I can go outside and demonstrate and then you'll know, but that's plenty."

Neviah shifts her eyes to the pot as Juniper leans in. She rotates the piece of ceramic. Time has taken its toll on it, but the faded figures are visible. It's easy to just take them as typical weird Egyptian symbolism; Neviah sees something else in them, though.

When she sets the pot down, it's with a wry smile. "No, I do not think they are right. Not as far as I know. This Earth, at least, has no magic inherent in it. That's why this gateway is so curious. It is to a place that is apparently /very/ magical, judging from what we do know and from those of us with ties to the place."

There are things Neviah leaves unsaid, too. When Juniper dismisses her probing, she lets it lie. It wouldn't do to badger the other woman too much. "I do not blame them, either. For our purposes, so little of the world remains that we may find nobody on the other side. Or we may find many people. Or we may find creatures that do not wish us there. We will not know until we enter."

At the offer, Neviah smiles faintly. "I will take your word for it, I think. I have some talents as a magical healer, myself, but my expertise is mainly in the study of worlds and the Tree."

No doubt why she needs help: Neviah is very squishy.

To Juni it may as well just be weird Egyptian symbolism, because a lot of it looks the same to her and she can't make heads or tails of hieroglyphics. She has to take Neviah's word on that, and she's willing to extent trust that far - she's hiring, so she can be as right as she wants about why she's hiring.

"Huh," she says, having seen one flaw in the argument - couldn't magic open the seal again? - but not sure whether it's Neviah's mistake or her own in believing it can be done. So she leaves it alone. "Guess that explains why you want to go through."

Juniper pauses a moment, then sticks out a hand for Neviah. "Well, that works for me. I'm glad to have someone who knows medicine around, because I can't do more than first aid, and my CPR class was a while ago. Provided we don't have to negotiate pay. I'm fine with what was offered in the posting."

At least one of them is less squishy.

Neviah at least has a gun. There's a rifle mount on one of the walls. There's not currently a rifle in it; it's back at camp.

Shuttling the ceramic back to the side of the desk, she casts a mellow smile across the table. The argument's occurred to her, among more than a few others, but she's not thinking /too/ much about it right now, focused mainly on the conversation. She's had enough time on the trip over to ruminate.

She'll have more time when they get there.

She rises in her seat to take the hand; her grip is gentle and refined, a smile cast gently above it. "I am not one of great power. But I can provide healing and protection if you are hurt. As for the offer, if there's anything more you need, it can be offered."

Neviah picks up a couple of books from the desk. "Now. We can get going if you like, though -- I gathered you wished for some fish and chips first."

Exploring faded worlds is never wise without some English-style battered haddock in your tummy.

Juniper's grip is firm - not hard enough to be uncomfortable, but hard enough to be a definite presence.

"More than I have," she says. She doesn't have to worry about Neviah deciding to do it (or not) out of the goodness of her heart; there's a trade involved and she feels on solid ground, at least as long as this lasts. 

"And that's right. I'd rather get something to eat first. There wasn't exactly anything to eat while I was waiting, and I've been here a few hours. So if you don't mind that, let's do that first." A pause, a beat, then Juniper asks, sounding half-joking, "Your treat?"

Not that she'd actually turn it down, mind you.

Neviah slides the books into a large bag she'd brought in with her. It looks like it's full of... well, more books.

Look, Neviah likes to read, okay? She's an academic!

"My treat," she assures with a smile as she pulls her coat back on, circling out from behind her desk. "Come on, I'll show you a place I like."

Authentic English fish and chips is certainly one way to kick off a desert adventure. If nothing else, tummies will be filled.