World Tree MUSH

At first glance, it looks like New York City. On closer examination, it seems to be quite magical; there's a few rainbow flickers or trails of golden lights under the noonday sun, and there's a few buildings which seem to be grown from single trees. In addition, humans are only half of the population; there's elves, a few fairies dancing through the sky, a number of centaurs, and even more esoteric humanoid creatures. Dryads, with leaf-colored hair and serrated pointed ears, are working at a library in one of the tree-buildings. The sun's high enough that most vampires are staying indoors, but there's still quite a few expensive-looking cars with dark tinted windows.

Down the street from the library is a coffee shop called the Early Latte. The clientele is more-or-less a representative sample of the city's population, and the lighting is fairly subdued compared to the sunlight. The cash register is being manned by a gangly green-skinned young lady with black hair and long pointed ears.

Out of the backroom comes a stocky human girl with dyed black hair with a single red streak, dressed in a black inside-out T-shirt and a red plaid skort. She heads to the front counter. "Hey, Lyla."

"Hi, Serrah," says the goblin. "The usual for your lunch break?"

Serrah smiles. "You know it!"

    And in from the street wanders a human woman, wearing a dark jacket, trousers, sturdy boots and a very fancy half-cape in red at her back, over her left shoulder. Her lips are pursed, and she seems to be lost in thought as she slips in the door to the coffee shop, her green eyes looking over the shop with surprise, and she brings her gloved hands up, and peaks them, giving a soft, disturbed breath against the leather of her gloves, looking at the gangly, green-skinned lady, and the stocky human girl. She blinks a moment, looking between the two before she quietly asks: "I don't suppose it'd sound unusual asking where I am?"

Lyla, halfway into taking Serrah's money, stares at the newcomer. "Wait, huh?"

Serrah grins. "You and Gem and Royce are just gonna have to get used to people from other worlds wanderin' in, Lyla," she says; there's something somewhat scratchy and androgynous about her voice. "Hi, you're in New York City, in, um, a 'Blossom' named Hartford." It doesn't occur to her immediately that 'New York City' might need further explanation, if the woman isn't from an Earth-equivalent. "Specifically the coffee shop called the Early Latte, you up for a drink?"

Lyla snickers. "Smooth."

Serrah raises a finger. "Shhhh."

    "This is most assuredly the strangest verson of New York I have fallen into." The British woman states, and she straightens up a moment. "And here I thought I'd have to do some explaining of my own, but it seems everyone is familiar enough with the concept." she offers a small smile, and gives a cursery look towards both Lyla and Serrah. 

    She fishes a moment about her pockets, and she pulls out a handful of silver coins, and gives a small smirk. "It appears my pockets are lighter than I thought, I don't suppose you know the going rate between shillings and coin of the realm?" she inquires politely, though with some measure of amusement.

Serrah nods. "Our world only just Blossomed," she says. "And, like, it's pretty much common knowledge now? But yeah, I feel you on the strangeness. Apparently, most worlds apparently only have humans living in 'em!"

"Glad you're the one who said that," murmurs Lyla. She and Serrah peer at the money, then exchange a glance. "Well ... we've only just gotten dedicated money-changing centers opened up," says Lyla. "I dunno if, uh ..."

"We can do like I did with Diantha," says Serrah. "I'll pay now, then we can head over to the money changing center and she can pay me back." She gives Evie a friendly smile. "I'm Serrah Delany, by the way, and this is Lyla Kurtz."

    "Evie Frye." Evie gives an easy smile, walking closer to the two. "Admittedly, as far as I know it is only humans in my world, but I've come across the most fascinating people in my travels." she replies easily, but purses her lips a moment, her eyebrows rising up, "Though this is the first I've seen with *centaurs*, they're considered mythology where I'm from."

Serrah raises her eyebrows. "... mythology, right." She shakes her head. "I still can't get over that, heh. We've got mermaids, too, by the way."

Lyla withdraws a moment, and returns with a latte and a bagel sandwich. "Here you go, Serrah."

"Tee why vee em!" Serra accepts the meal. "Anyway ... yeah. I haven't had a chance to visit other worlds yet. Still waiting for a day off when I don't have anything else, and I'm not even sure where to start, to be honest."

    "A cup of tea, please Miss Kurtz." Evie asks politely, giving a small nod to Lula, and looking back to Serrah. "I'm afraid my own discovery of our recent joining was somewhat accidental, and quite disconcerting." Evie replies gently, "though having a day off is nice, I'm certain I could spend lifetimes around my own world and not see everything let alone the wonders of other places. For instance -- automobiles!" she states, and she motions towards the door. "They're quite popular in most worlds, not even invented yet in my own."

Lyla rings up the money and Serrah pays. "Yeah, that seems to happen sometimes," says Serrah. "We've had another customer who had that happen to 'er -- Diantha Windsong, I mentioned her earlier." She shrugs. "If my info is good, it means the world you came from is a 'Bud', which means it's kind of hard to get in or out. All the other worlds are Blossoms. And also they're all connected to this more-or-less literal World Tree." Another shrug. "Don't quote me on that, though, we're kind of still figuring things out, I guess."

She grins. "As for cars, you're talking to someone who can't afford one." She gestures vaguely. "I don't usually need it, because a bunch of stuff is in walking distance and I can take public transportation to a lot of other places. But yeah, the United States have pretty much been a car-culture since day one." She tilts her head curiously. "What year was it where you're from, by the way?"

    "Diantha Windsong? ... I beleive I've met an aquaintence of hers. It appears she gets around." Evie replies in a friendly fashion, and she gives a nod. "That's what I have surmised; my world is fairly difficult to leave on purpose. I suspect because of its relative... new-ness." she states, and she gives a wry grin. "Where I'm from, carriages and omnibuses are the way to get around. Hire a hansom and a nag and you can find yourself across London of 1868 in a matter of hours, provided Her Majesty hasn't seen fit to gather for a party." she replies. 

    "So it's still called the United States here? I do recall hearing news that there was some disagreement about my time."

Serrah shrugs. "I wouldn't know anything about newness, or however that works," she says. "There's a rumor going around that time doesn't even go at the same rate between different worlds here. And messing around with time sounds like a huge headache that I don't even wanna touch."

She seems a bit surprised by the year, and pulls her smartphone out of her purse. "Let's see ... today is the year 719 of the Fourth Age ... and ..." She pokes a bit at it. "... aha, apparently you just subtract thirteen hundred, so, 568 4A. This is the equivalent of the year 2019 by the calendar of other Earths."

Lyla blinks. "Oh, I was wondering about that!" She shoots Evie a toothy grin. "And yeah, in our world that was the Civil War. The Confederates got their butts kicked, and that was that, sort of."

    "Nice to know. Seems dreadful for a country to be torn apart on a sordid subject." Evie gives a sad sort of smile, and she gives a wry smile. "So I'm something quite old fashioned in this New York. No wonder I got some very odd looks." she offers in a friendly manner. "Automobiles, telephones, foundations laid in the industrial revolution and pushed through after my time. It's a wonderful concept." 

    She gives a smile to Lyla, and Serrah, and she gives a small shrug, "This is the second twenty-first century city I've come across. I must seem terribly out-dated."

Serrah nods as Lyla darts away. "Yeah, another rumor I saw was that human-populated worlds called Earth with this geography and nearing the end of the first quarter of the eighth -- I mean the 'twenty-first' century -- are basically the majority of worlds out here." She takes a bite out of the bagel sandwich.

Lyla returns with a nice English black tea for Evie. "Here you go!" she says. "Wow, you're pretty up-to-date on the World Tree news, Serrah!"

Serrah grins. "It's what there is to do, I guess," she says. She shrugs at Evie's out-of-date comment. "Eh, I don't give a shit about any of that stuff. Far as I'm concerned, you're new-and-interesting."

    Evie gives a mild look at the language, but accepts the tea gratefully from Lyla, holding the cup a bit awkwardly with her gloves, but she gives a curious look between the two, then gives a soft 'hmm'. "I understand the concept of differing years; there are several different time records running concurrently on my Earth, and I've gone through lessons comparing years in different records. No need to correct for my sake." she replies to Serrah. "So, what *is* it that you do, Miss Delany?"

"Me?" Serrah smiles faintly, and jerks a thumb towards a door marked 'Employees Only'. "The dishes, mostly. Skipped college, it'd only put me in debt." She takes another bite out of the bagel sandwich, looks like she's about to talk with her mouth full, then hesitates, and chews and swallows before continuing. "I'm on my lunch break at the moment. But I like it here. Good people work here, and doing dishes I don't have to interact with customers."

"Except to flirt with visitors from other worlds on your lunch break," murmurs Lyla.

Serrah lets out a giggle which sounds distinctly different from her usual voice. "Quiet, you!"

    Evie was listening intently, sipping her tea and marking down the details. Dish girl, skipped college but for a fiscally sound reason, not particularly inclined to social nicities of the service sector -- oh. And flirting. Evie missed that part entirely, though her eyebrows raise a moment as she sips the piping hot tea, and settles the cup down with an unclear expression on her face, her lips giving a momentary uptick. 

    "I see, and how many visitors from other worlds have you flirted with today?" she asks, entirely conversational with the question.

Serrah, in turn, also misses the flirting comment at first. "Well, you're the --" And then her mind catches up with her, and she sputters and giggles again, going red-faced. "No!"

"You literally bought her a drink, Ser," says Lyla teasingly.

"I didn't mean it like that, jeez!" says Serrah. She can't entirely look Evie in the eye now.

At that moment, the door walks in, and a raven-haired woman in a black and red French maid uniform walks in; there's a black heart-shaped mark in the middle of her forehead, and she has something of a Stepford smile. She's attractive, in an anemic sort of way, and her skin looks moderately unhealthy. Ignoring Serrah and Evie, she walks right up to Lyla. "Good afternoon," she says, and there's something vacant about her voice, as well. "I am here to order a large black coffee to go, for His Grace Master D'Ambrosio." She has fangs, too.

"Oh! Uh." Lyla straightens up, looking somewhat nervous. "Sure, that'll be three Hartford Dollars."

Serrah stares at her, looking distinctly uncomfortable. The woman is drawing looks from other customers as well.

    Evie was about to reply with a little grace that she was happy to accept a compliment, but was halted when the door opened and the black haired woman walks in. HEr eyes narrow -- there was several things very, very wrong with the stranger, and Evie steps aside as the anemic woman draws up to the counter, and as the woman draws stares, it is from everyone around. 

    Especially from Evie. Evie stands off to the side, watching as the woman in the maid uniform orders her coffee, and the way that she walks, the way that she orders, and speaks was just... wrong.

Lyla nods as she takes the maid's money. "Okay, uh ... it'll just be a moment!"

"Of course," says the maid, offering a quick curtsy. She steps aside to make room for any other subsequent customers, puts a hand on her temple with the air of someone listening to a phone message -- or at least, the air of someone as weird as her who's listening to a phone message -- and then lowers her hand and goes completely still.

Serrah can't remain silent. "So, uh ..."

The woman relaxes somewhat, meeting normalcy halfway. "Oh, my behavior isn't the result of a spell or other detrimental mental effect, I'm just like that," she says proudly, in the tone of voice who's said this many times before and has enjoyed it every single time.

Serrah rolls her eyes, and turns back to her sandwich and coffee. "Great."

The woman nods, maintaining that smile, and goes back to standing, and just stares vacantly at Lyla as she waits for her order.

    Evie is split between curiosity and accepting that yes, some people are just that odd. She looks to Serrah, then to Lyla, and then she gives a breath, and asks, out loud, the elephant in the room: "So, who is this D'Ambrosio fellow?" she inquires out loud. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the name."

The maid turns her vacant smile on Evie. "Duke Vincent D'Ambrosio, of the House D'Ambrosio," she says. "The master of the Blackheart Scepter." She stops talking, as if that by itself was enough information.

"Oh right, I've heard of him," says Serrah, a faint note of derision in her voice which she's trying to keep under control. "He's this ... uh ... he's part of the vampire nobility of the Hartford Empire."

"His Grace cares nothing of the derision of rabble," says the maid, still facing Evie. "You may speak freely of his self-absorbed foolishness and absurdity."

Serrah rolls her eyes, and takes another bite out of her sandwich, not rising to the bait even though she's clearly tempted to fire off some sort of biting remark.

    "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that particular nobility. I'm not from the area." Evie replies thoughtfully, the British lady weighing questions in her mind. Vampires? Real vampires? Straight out of penny dreadfuls? 

    She raises her eyebrows a moment, her eyes narrowed a moment. "And you're his servant? Maid?" she questions, "Do you have a name?"

Serrah shrugs. "It's the empire that rules this entire world," she says. "Not much else to say about it," she adds, in a tone of voice which suggests that she has all sorts of choice words for the Hartford Empire.

The maid curtsies. "I am Wilhelmina Nocturne, chief maid of the D'Ambrosio Manor, Miss Visitor."

"Um," says Lyla, handing over a cup of coffee with a plastic lid wrapped in cardboard insulation. "Here's your order ..."

Wilhelmina curtsies again, takes the coffee, and then turns and leaves without another word.

"... Wow," Serrah says flatly. She shakes her head. "What the hell is up with her."

    "... enthrallation perhaps?" Evie replies quietly, rubbing the back of her neck in consideration. She watches as Wilhelmina curtsies, and she wants so badly to follow and sneak around... but... 

    "I'm going to have to do an awful lot of research into other words." she speaks out loud, mostly to herself before she sips her tea again. 

    "So, this world is ruled by the vampires then?"

Serrah shrugs. "Maybe," she says. "That kind of mind-control is supposed to be illegal, but Emperor Hartford hasn't exactly made it a secret that the laws are specifically designed so that if a noble does anything that isn't against the Empire itself, the 'punishment' is a fine that's a drop in the bucket of their bank account. And can you really trust someone who looks like they're being mind-controlled just because they say they aren't?" She viciously bites into her bagel.

"Yep," says Lyla, in response to Evie's question. "Jeremy Hartford became the Emperor fifty years ago, on the four hundredth anniversary of the first successful moon landing. And he moved the capital to Hartford, Connecticut, which I think already had that name."

"I think so, too," says Serrah, getting out her phone again and looking it up. "Ah, yep, it was, that was the entire reason he moved it there."

    "It did; it's an older colony from my world. A short hundred years before me, it still was just that." Evie replies, pleased with concurrrent history. She sips her tea again, and registers. Oh, there it is. The inhumanity. The ruling class abusing those with no power. 

    The woman lets out a breath. This wasn't her fight. 

    "I suppose there's protests about the sort of abuse of power that happens in such conditions?" she questions, turning her eyes to Lyla, and then to the more talkative Serrah.

Serrah downs her coffee. "Of course they do," she says, sounding somewhat bitterly. "Jeremy loooooves protests. It lets him know what broken bones need to have ... like ... a cloth bandage lightly tied around 'em."

"That metaphor is kind of weirdly graphic," says Lyla weakly, "but ... all I can really say about the intent is 'yeah.'"

"I was gonna say 'band-aid' but those are a modern invention," says Serrah. She looks over at Evie. "Sorry, politics is kind of 'eh' no matter where you go. The Hartford Empire is only really comfortable if you fit some definition of 'normal', you stay in your lane and don't try to make waves, and you don't care about anyone else." She doesn't even notice that this is the exact sort of thing Evie is worrying about. "And while I'm reluctant to say 'but what can you do' since that's what they want you to think ... I 'unno."

    Hard to say what Evie is worrying about, but she does look rather concerned. She purses her lips a moment, sitting down and steepling her fingers as she weighs different options. 

    "I'm guessing portestors have a tendency to experience violence, legal trouble, sudden disappearance..." the Assassin trails off a moment,, her eyes looking distant, as if trying to see the future through a handy display case. "Hmm."

Serrah shakes her head. "Nope!" she said. "Like I said, Jeremy loves 'em. The tricks he uses to discourage them are much more subtle tricks which merely make it obnoxious or inconvenient."

Lyla carefully says, "I think Serrah was saying that the Empire deals with, uh, discontent by making policies and whatever which do more to make it look like he's listening to the protestors and gives him PR points, rather than actually resolving the underlying problems."

Serrah sighs. "So, uh, yeah," she says, smiling weakly. "Here's your coffee, we've got problems."

    "Lip service." Evie states quietly, her fingers dropping from their steepling as she looks to Serrah. "So essentially it's a gentle form of power abuse." she frowns a moment, then takes a deep breath as she stretches her fingers around the cup. She can feel the heat of the tea in her fingers. 

    "Unfortunate. I suppose in that way our worlds are most similar."

Serrah nods. "Got it in one!" she says. "Yeah. I 'unno." She looks around. "If it wasn't apparently so damn hard to communicate with other worlds ..." She shrugs. "I'd be tempted to find another world with better living conditions, and just stay there."

Lyla murmurs, "And every woman you flirted with would by definition be an interaction with someone from another world, since you'd be the one from another world in this --"

"No," says Serrah firmly. "... I mean, yes, but no."

    "I assure you, Miss Delaney, other worlds are in similar straits. It may n ot be supernatural in origin, but my world is at the height of an Industrial Revolution, where train barrons knock down buildings and children are forced to work in factories for pennies a day." she breathes out. "Injustice is ever a disease threatening to keep others in the chains of wretched villainy and poverty."

Serrah nods. "That's pretty deep," she says. She regards Evie thoughtfully for a moment; the woman seems to have some very strong opinions about this sort of thing. "You an activist back where you come from? Or ... whatever the equivalent word would've been in 568." She shrugs. "I mean I guess justice has always been something to worry about. Especially if our histories are so similar."

    "Something like that." Evie gives a small smile. "I have worked with those who want more freedom for others, Nurse Nightengale for one, my friend, Mr. Bell and his telephone project." she name drops a moment, and gives a small shrug of her shoulders. "Mostly... I do what I can to help where I can."

Serrah smiles faintly. "Yeah," she says. "Those are some pretty big names in this time period." She shrugs. "Just be careful on Hartford, all right? Like, they're still figuring out how to deal with the World Tree, but if someone actually caused trouble here, for certain standards of 'trouble' ..." She shakes her head. "Well. I don't have to tell you there might be protestors we don't hear about who get worse reprisal than annoyances."

    "I see." Evie gives a nod, and then she fingers a couple of coins out of her palm, and wrestles with a few thoughts before she turns her freckled face to Serrah, then to Lyla. 

    "If someone were to venture to Hartford and confront them about it, where would this Emperor be found? Out of curiosity."

Serrah chortles. "What did I just say?" she says. She shakes her head and grins. "Jeez. But, uh, seriously, though, he put together this capital building. Can't miss it, it's huge and dark with extra brooding, and there's like a zillion layers of security for a couple miles around it."

    "Simply curious." Evie replies, "after all, I'm just a Victorian lady who wandered down the wrong street and ended up in a nice little coffee shop." She sips her tea. "For tea time." she gives a smile, her nose wrinkling "Don't you worry about it, Miss Delany."

Serrah shrugs. "Okay, just making sure," she says. She doesn't really have any reason to think that this woman will try to involve herself in Hartford's local politics, but Serrah has overreacted in her concern for others before.

She glances at her wristwatch. "Starting to get close to the end of my lunch break," she says, and she smiles at Evie. "Guess I'll see you around ... Miss Frye."

    "Should I find myself about, I will happily revisit, Miss Delaney." Evie replies, and she draws herself to a stand as she fishes out all the coins, and counts out h ow much she thinks inflation would cost, and makes a face. 

    "Three dollars for a cup of coffee?" she questions the goblin with a pained expression. 

    "I have two pounds, four shillings. I don't suppose that'd be enough to pay her back for the tea?"

Lyla shrugs uncomfortably. "The value the Emperor arbitrarily set to Hartford Dollars is kinda weird," she says. "But there's probably been some kind of inflation, too. I'll have to ask Gem."

Serrah considers the money. "Just give me the two pounds, I'll let the money changers sort it out it, and I'll pay you back if you drop by here again and there's change." She smiles. "English money from the year 568 should probably be straightforward enough to handle, though."

    "Hm. Worse than Twopenny." she murmurs to herself, but she looks to Serrah, and tilts all the coinage to her hand, and gives a smile. "Just consider the rest a... a tip. I beleive that's still customary on this side of the ocean?"

Serrah blinks. "Oh, yeah," she says, smiling. "Well, okay, see you later, then! Hope you find, uh, the World Tree agreeable!"

She stands up, stretches, tosses the last bit of bagel into her mouth, and heads back over to the 'Employees Only' door.