Aug 06 07:10:01 105 PA

From Chronicles

og Entitled: What Do You Mean, *My* Accent? Location: Kingsdale - Merchant's Plaza The current game time is: Thu Aug 06 07:10:01 105 PA. Players: Hamamoto, Minnie, Janus

Its about 9 in the morning, the temperature is risen to about 65 now, instead of the 61 it was. There wasn't any mist today, and it seems like its going to be another hot August day. However, a cart is creeking by down the road. Off to the side of the road of faster tech vehicles and sandwiched inbetween pedestrains on the other side. Though, another anamoly comes walking beside the cart. He's dressed in medieval Japanese armor, and carrying his daisho and a bow across his bak. His mon is sticking behind it, flying its little flag for all to see. His eyes are shaded by the helmet only slightly, causing him to squint more, and riding a horse down the streets.

Minnie comes trudging into the marketplace from the park, pushing her bike alongside her with a straight-armed grip on the handlebars. Just nine in the morning, but already looking ready to call it a day, she and her wheels are mud-splattered and grass-stained. Dents in the steel frame of the bike, and fresh rips in her black jeans and the elbows of her overshirt. Her eyeliner blooms black orchids around her feverish hazel eyes, further shadowed by tangles of blonde hair escaped from her ponytail. With an extra-rough shove, she gets through a line of some unalert pedestrians and takes to the road, in front of the rickety cart. An attempt is made to hop over and mount the bike, but she aborts the move halfway to lean over the frame and examine a tear in the rucked rubber of her front tire. "Balls.." is uttered half-heartedly, and she resumes pushing.

Moving his horse around to the front of the cart, and reaching for his katana, he then sees one of the people that he met in the graveyard that night. He tilts his head to the side for a moment, seeing that she can't ride her contraption thing. "Miss...Pardon, for I did not catch your name, I do not believe. But we met in the graveyard a few nights ago. If you wishs, I shall give you a ride to wherever your destination. And you may put your...machine...in the back of the cart along with the produce my man brings to market."

"Who....oh." The girl looks up and over her shoulder through gaps in her loose hair. "The kung-fu zombie." She turns away again and puts her head down, starting to strain as she makes herself and her bike take the lead again, almost jogging along, and keeps it up for about half a minute before flagging once more. Panting, she pulls over to stand the bike in the gutter while stepping herself up onto the curb. As the cart and horse and rider come into range again, she raises her voice and calls loudly, "I gotsta get all the way down Main. T'Cheapos." The apartment is named reluctantly. "You goin' all the way down Main?"

Nine in the a.m., the temperature's heating up at 65 degrees and counting, and Hamamoto in full regalia is riding a horse and appears to be escorting a produce cart through the marketplace. Stopped along the curb with her bike standing dented and muddy in the gutter, Minnie is no less a battered specimen as she reluctantly petitions a lift from the Samurai.

"We can spare some time to take you where you want to go, miss. And..." He says as rides closer, seemingly at ease in the saddle. "I am neither a zombie, nor kung fu." He states plainly. "In fact, I have studied Zanji Shinjinken-Ryo. Its a Samurai style of fighting. Though, you will have to show the way, as I don't come into towm much. Just to help guard the shipment of food my farm produces."

Minnie's nose wrinkles when the rider breaks into that funky other-language again, but she goes up on tiptoe trying to see what foodstuffs are packed into the cart, with which her wheels may soon be occupying space. "Right here's where y'want t'be, mister. If you're sellin greens," she informs him matter-of-factly. "I live way on th'other end of th'city. So n'v'mind, I'll be just nifty." Waving him away towards the depths of the marketplace with a hand, she thinks, then adds, "S'just veg, y'really get baddies tryin' t'swipe your veg?"

"It is of no moment, if you do not wish for there to be delay while unload cart. We deliver to Silver Fork. The other side of city is of no moment once delivery happens." The cart itself seems to be filled with veggies, and bottles, maybe milk? "No, no person tries to steal veggies from cart. But people might rob man with money on way back. Plus, procude belong to I. I needed to ensure trans...trans...transaction." He then nods softly to himself.

Minnie has her lips parted like she wants to comment, but finds that she has to concentrate more than usual just to comprehend what's being said. "Translation?" she suggests the first word that pops to mind, just before the Samurai hits upon the right word, himself. "Oh-ah. Beats hirin' somebody else t' watch your stuff. I guess." She shrugs, uncertainly, her gaze wandering away for a moment to consider Harry's Gym across the way. "Well. You're a busy knocker. Y'know...farmer by day, ghost hunter by night. Y'better motor." She leans her elbows negligently upon the handlebars and raises one hand to offer a slight digit-wiggle. Doesn't look like she needs that ride anymore.

It's from that selfsame Harry's Gym that Janus steps out from, toting a small gym bag and carrying that freshly-showered air around him, clean of scent and damp of hair. He pauses out in the heat to push his free hand through his hair, gathering it up and struggling to slip an elastic band around the mass to keep it held back.

"I am neither farmer nor ghost hunter. I am Samurai...err...noble in your words. Its my task to rule. Though I am but far from homeland, I still bring honor to Daimyo's name." He then looks confused by the term. "A motor is a mechanical device, yes?" He then tilts his head to the side, pondering something. "I do not understand the word ias used that way. But I understand context. If you not need ride, I shall be on way." He then clucks a little and then pauses. "Never caught name, did I? Rude of me, Hamamoto, family name, Kiriji personal. Hamamoto Kiriji."

The longer she "idles" there on the curb's edge, the more the panting fatigue slips away from Minnie's small frame, and the more disdainful her expression comes to look, at the very idea that she had even considered hitching a ride for herself and her injured wheels. She straightens up at his sudden introduction, though, unexpectedly caught up in a moment of propriety. "Oh..uh. Right. Mulverhill. Minnie. Mulverhill Minnie. Something like that," she manages to confuse herself, with his strange formatting. "Well g'bye."

It's not that horses are all that unusual, but horses with ancient samurai warriors sitting on them are. Janus stares across the street at Hamamoto, gobsmacked at the juxtaposition of he and his cart of farm-fresh greens amid the hustle and bustle of cyborgs, hoverbikes and aliens from a hundred dimensions. And then he notices Minnie and her bike standing in the samurai's shadow, which just makes the whole scene that much more unlikely. Janus crosses over, giving the horse an intelligent berth and moves up beside the small girl. She gets an arm around her shoulders and a little hug for a greeting; Hamamoto just gets a nod. "Oi there," he speaks up to the warrior with a disturbing lack of enunciation on his trailing 'r's. "Rode a long way to get to these parts, I'll wager."

"It is honor to meet you, Mulverhill Minnie. May your days be long, and your nights short and peaceful." He then looks at being addressed by someone else. He then looks down and removes his helmet to show a smaller Japanese face. "Rode not but a few steps to get here, sir. Its what I rode through." He then tilts his head to the guy who has addressed him. "May I ask your name and country?"

Minnie squelches a bit at the sidehug, due to a quantity of mud, dew, and sap present on and around her person. She turns her head, and the rest of her hair pulls free from its clasp under his arm, straggling around her smudged-up face. "Oi," she says brightly, releasing the handlebars long enough to clasp her small dirty paws over the other man's embrace, like she might attempt to dangle from him like a towel once he straightens back up. The bike promptly falls to lean against Janus's legs. So much for that fresh showering. "Oi," she repeats. "This's one'f th'loonies from th'boneyard, 'Rik. Only," she amends quickly, but a little flippantly, "he isn't one after all. He's Royalty."

Janus's okay with having a Minnie hanging from his neck for a little while and maneuvers his side-hugging arm under her to offer his forearm up as a seat. He can always take another shower. "Well my name's Erik Janus," he finishes the introduction to Hamamoto, grinning up at the man a bit. "I ain't got any countries, myself, though."

"You have no country you come from? Call home?" He asks, a little puzzled, then to look at Minnie. "I am not royalty, nobility. I am...how you say...knight?" He then looks up and to the right, checking up on things that seem to make sense to him. "Not native English language." He then frowns a little. "loonies?" He then frowns down upon her. "I searched for evil to fight. I hunt the vampires. I hear they undead. Undead is waking dead, so I look in bone yard." He then gives a slight shrug of his shoulders.

Minnie scrabbles briefly but ends up nicely situated against the crook of Erik's arm, one arm propped over his shoulder to hold herself steady, the other dropping down to snag his wrist at her hip to complete the rappelling imagery of her position. "Huh-yup, I know that now," she realizes to Hamamoto, after wondering over his reaction to her comment. "Was just a loony sort'f night. Not sayin' you're all crazy in th'head, y'know. R'a kung-fu zombie. Just...." She pauses, a mite frustrated with having to explain her personal way of speaking. "Just th'way't was at th'time."

Janus manages with surprisingly little trouble to hang his gym bag from the handlebar of Minnie's bike and steady her vehicle by planting his hand upon the seat. "Was born in a place called Perth, top side of the world from here. Australia. Reckon it's not so far from where you're comin' from, considerin' where we're standing now." If he's at all confused by what Hamamoto and Minnie are talking about he doesn't let on. To look at him, kung-fu zombies and all the rest is standard operating procedure.

Hamamoto is sitting on top of a horse, as the cart rolls down the way, getting out of the way of traffic. He is wearing medieval bamboo armor that is painted red with the classic looking Japanese warrior motif. Even has a little flag on the back with a symbol on it, fluttering in the breeze. Minnie has he pedal bike, which has a flat tire, and she is hugging Janus. There is a simple nod of Hamamoto's head. "I have heard of Australia. But barely, though. It...is far from my place of birth." he then looks to Minnie. "I did not know the meaning of the word. Though, from context, means...crazy?"

"Well, I guess," concedes Minnie, with an eyeroll. "But I don't mean anythin' bad. Just like that other girl was just sayin' you an' the other loony were movie stars, an' y'thought that meant y'should challenge'r to a duel. Chareest, s'just words." Sure feels safe to berate the armored fighter from your perch on high, hm Minnie? "Hey 'Rik. Gotta get my bike t'some patch-up place. Y'wanna go pick-up your clothes t'day?"

And what's wrong with Erik's "I Got Juiced at the KEC!" t-shirt? Janus signifies he hears Hamamoto with a nod but doesn't go into what would doubtlessly be a really long discussion about Japan's relative proximity to Australia as compared to Missouri. "Don't take offense by nothin' she says," he suggests to the samurai instead, shrugging his shoulders and Minnie both. "Minnie ain't got a cruel bone in 'er body." But, the bike. He slips his hand off the seat and grips the top bar of the frame and moves it around until he's got Minnie's hanging foot keeping the front tire straight. "Cali aught ta be able to patch it up, no worries. We can drop it off with 'er on the way?"

"I will not, sir. I am just curious as to the words she was using. Her accent...strange, unfamiliar it makes the words. And, unlike our ancestors, who once knew of cultures and events across the world, news now is slow and unsure, full of doubts. UNlikely you have seen many from my homeland here. I may be the only one." He then looks around, "Though I know of one who is form Ictho Province here." He then frowns as he says it.

After the brief bout of enjoyment taken from being effortlessly rocked in Erik's arm, Minnie gazes dubiously at Hamamoto. *Her* accent? The concept just about blows her mind to smithereens. "What about th'guy who was playin' at bein' a ghostie that night? Y'called him Ha'motor, r'somethin'," she offers to the Samurai, peaceably. Peaceably because she doesn't have a cruel bone in her body. Janus said so. "Cali, that's a garage, right? Just a few bangs'n'a hole. I'd do't myself'f I had th'materials," she then tells Janus defensively, as if he'd just suggested that she didn't know what to do with wheels except ride 'em into the ground.

Ever the diplomat, Janus presses a fond kiss to Minnie's muddy temple and regards her with a smile of affection. "Cali's a girl, a real wiz at fixing all kinds of things up. She'll have whatever ya need to get this 'ere bike rolling right again. Might even give it to us for nothin' but a smile." He glances up again at Hamamoto then and grants another nod of his head. "All sorts of people and so on the only one from wherever they come from. Don't reckon that means much to a place like Kingsdale, eh? Find it's easier lookin' like ya belong rather than lookin' like you don't."

"That may be, but I have a duty to my Daimyo, sir. I must present his colors when I look my best, or go to battle." He then nods softly. "I would not know about this Cali...person. I have nothing that requires someone to fix it. Except for maybe the cart." he then looks to the cart thats long gone, "And my armor, of course. Though, if you happen to know wher I may attain magical arrows, I would be indebted to either of you." He then looks to Minnie. "Yes, Hamoto-san, I don't know where he is from, though I can say he knows the langauge and my customs."

Minnie smiles with impudent pleasure when Janus gets a lip's worth of dirt off her, and tosses her head to clear a sheaf of stringy hair from her eyes so she can look directly into his face while he speaks. "Sheilah sounds sweet on you, 'Rik," she quips, briefly baring her sharp little eye teeth when she grins. Probably not the sort of smile that would win a free bike fixin'. Then her attention moves sidelong to Hamamoto. "Well? Then he's from Icky Province too. But I kind'f think he's been 'round here longer than you, Hamamotor...Killichi...Mister..." That was fun. Backwards names, they're nifty. "Janus...Erik...Smiley..."

"Roit," Janus agrees amiably. "Sounds like the Icky Province, sure 'nuff. He showin' the colors of 'is die-mow too? Regular old gang war, halfway around the planet?" He gives the bike an experimental roll one foot forward and two feet back, getting a sense of how well it's going to do walking the long road to Dregstown.

"Huh? No, I am, as a dutiful servant of my Dai-mi-yo. Except said a bit faster. Daimyo. It is his symbol that i am wearing, and with honor." He then points to the flag on his back to show them what he means. "He is from Ichto?" He then frowns as that bit of news hit a little closer to home. "I am from the New Empire, where the Emporer has been raised to his exalted position by the goddess Amaterasu, and she shines her blessings upon the Empire against the Oni and other who attack us." He then looks up at the sun. "I must going, it is an honor to have met you both."

"...Happy trails," says Minnie with a small wave, having recently come back from a somewhat glazed state, the same one she'd entered back when Hamamoto'd tried to teach a little culture and history in the graveyard. She drops her gaze to watch the bike rolling riderless, noting its new set of dings ruefully, and presently stretching a leg down so she can use her toe to peel back the flap of rubber and reveal the punctured inner tube beneath. "Maybe Cali knows how t'put chains an' spikes on, too? Some'f those meet riders're nasty, knifin' th'rest'f us up when we just want t'do our jumps." She tightens her grip on Janus's shoulder momentarily as she starts to slide off and jump back to terra firma.

Assuming Hamamoto rides off into the rising sun, or shortly will, Janus brings the fullness of his attention down to Minnie. He bends forward at the waist, helping her feet find the cracked pavement of the street and releasing her once she's on two steady feet. "Someone slashed up your tires?" he asks, glowering suddenly down at the punctured tire as though he could open a portal to the person responsible by sheer force of will. And then punch him.

Minnie crouches her own bashed self over to eyeball the slash. "Only 'cause he was able to hit me mid-jump," she explains, standing straight again to demonstrate with her hands cruising and see-sawing through space, the left one of them arcing up only to get blind-sided by her swiftly turning right one, kersmash! Both clap together like a prayer, then go down in flames, like...a rejected prayer. "His rims were all spiky. Others had chains pr'tectin' their rubber...now I get why." She swivels her hip to raise a frayed jean leg for Erik's inspection as well. "Need leg guards too, I guess."

"Get the Weaverwoman to make you some," Erik suggests with a tone that's not really sure if she's capable of such a thing. He bends down a little to draw the tips of his first two fingers along the rend in Minnie's jeans and shakes his head. "Or we'll get you in some of that Plastic Man, show those knockers the meaning of tough." He glances to the bike and back to Minnie, squaring his shoulders up and exhaling evenly. "Let's take a walkabout, eh?"

The rips are still held together by the occasional intact thread, telling the tale of various near-misses or lucky dodges away from real injury. A few superficial abrasions and bruises, accompanied by dirt or grass stains, indicate more harm from falling than malicious foes. "Walk-about? Yeah?" the girl nabs and squirrels away the new run-on word, while reaching over to commandeer her wheels now that she's back on her feet. Another head shake brings her unbound hair more evenly-placed over her shoulders, and cascading away from her face, slightly runny kohl creating deeper pockets of shadow from whence her hazel eyes glow with interest. "N'armor's not *tough*, skin's tough, right." She reaches out in a quick boxing swipe at his arm. "R'metal skin. You'n'Liza're still...mates, 'Rik?" she suddenly queries, vaguely worried.

Janus presses his lips together until the color runs out of them and gives his mouth a half twist of consternation. He drifts his hand through Minnie's tousled hair and winds a lock around his finger down near her shoulder. "Think we are, Minnie, least as far it goes. Reckon she was hurt by a bloke somewhere back, and she ain't quite figured out that I ain't him." He wraps it up with a shrug and takes a few starter steps along the street to give Minnie time to fall in next to him before he starts moving in earnest.

Pushing from her hips into her shoulders, Minnie gets her bike rolling to a fair speed, the tires making grit-sucking sounds in the gutter until such time as she hauls it up to roll along on the walkway with her. "Oh. Don't know," she murmurs, mulling that idea over while she works on finding a pace that keeps up with his stride, no protest whatsoever made to call attention to the differences in their ground coverage. "Hope not. Seems like it's always *some* guy'r'other, messin' up th'gals I know. Cha. Don't get it." She hunches her shoulders into a brief shrug, gaze traveling ahead to anticipate their journey. "'Liza's not like them." She hopes.

"I think she's more of a girl than she likes to show," Erik surmises, tipping his head a notch to allow for a measure of uncertainty. "We won't be trading fists anytime soon though, don't you worry. Just needs some time getting used to me." He's actually walking pretty slow, at least for him, reining in those long legs and not letting them move back and forth with any of the usual purpose and power. "Does seem right fond of you, strewth. Might be hard on her having me in the pictchie."

A widening smile smooths out the curves in her lips as Minnie considers the possible routes ahead, mind running ahead along her memory of the lay of the cityscape. She says carelessly, "O yeah? Keith's like that too. He's gettin' all strung out'f shape over you, 'Rik." She points from an extended arm. "We hittin' th'garage'n North Dreg? Where th'catface got scratched out? Could take that road."

"Right, that's the spot. Ol' catface." The nickname pleases him and he doesn't seem the least bit bothered that 'catface' took a bullet in the head either. Cold sometimes, this one. He allows Minnie to take the lead, letting her show off her secret knowledge of the hidden ways and shortest routes through the tangliest part of the city. "You an' Keith," he opens after a while, reluctance in his voice. "Never been eager to go stepping in and steal another bloke's girl. Like to have the full story of it from you."

She looks around at that, like he'd up and disappeared into thin air for a second, then her eyes find their way up to his face, startled and staring. "Keith's? I'm not his gal," she blurts. What kind of crazy mixed-up world is this, where a girl can't shack up with a moony, possessive guy without peoples assuming that they're zoom-zoomin' around in the ol' hobby go-cart together? Okay okay. "...He helped me get away from Chi-Town," she presently speaks softly, thankfully using no 's' words. "Known each other f'rever."

"That's anothah story you'll have to tell me sometime," Erik remarks, nodding and looking away from Minnie to gaze ahead towards where they're going instead. He slips his arm around her from her near shoulder to the far side of her waist, a lot more comfortably too now that he's, well, allowed. Today's not the time for storytelling though, and he walks along quietly for a while.

Entering a stultifyingly residential sector like the one that surrounds Steel St. North doesn't exactly fire-up the confessional irons, anyway. Fast pace or slow, Minnie just keeps on with an attitude in her posture that looks energetic, and certainly keeps his forearm against her rolling in a rhythmic swell and dip. After a while, she tests out a single-handed grip closer to the center of the bike's steering bar, finds it acceptably steady as long as she firms up her arm from the shoulder blade onwards. Then her freed arm slips around and up across his broad back, fingers hooking into a bit of his weapons harness. She lets out a trill of a smug whistle as she makes the move, glancing casually away. Then uses her grip to apply some pressure into sending them strolling down a smaller side street to bypass the major intersection where they'd be obliged to maneuver around streams of vehicles and pedestrians.

There's still plenty of maneuvering to do as they draw nearer and nearer to the ramshackle tumble of the Dregs. The ground slopes upwards and the paving of the street peters out like someone simply ran out of material and called the job finished. Cali's Garage can still claim to be, if not part of Kingsdale proper, a sullen denizen of the unofficial buffer zone between the city and the unbridled anarchy of the True Dregs perched up on their hilltop fastness. Here, at least, the buildings are still attempts at permanancy, but the streets become a jumble of abandoned equipment, construction materials and hungry-eyed gangs assembled on corners and glaring menacingly at their rivals across the intersection.

It's all enough for Erik to pull Minnie just that much closer to him, unconsciously done in a thoughtless impulse to protect her from whatever the shadows of alleys might decide to belch out. "There's the garage," he chirps when the place finally comes into view. It's unremarkable except for the fact that it looks closed.

She studies it for a moment, the normalcy of the building failing to keep her attention at first, considering the much flashier signage of the other nearby establishments. "Nobody's home," Minnie points out, drawing away from his personal defensive radius to wheel over to one of the first storey windows, and lean up against it to peer inside. Accepting the idea of a business being shutdown during daylight hours as just one of those strange things that happen, she sighs, "Was a nifty plan while it lasted."

Janus follows after Minnie at about four paces behind and presses his hand to the rolling steel garage door to give it a fair shaking. There's no doubt about it, it's closed. "Off saving the world or whatever it is they do for fun," he guesses, shrugging and stepping back to crane his head and peer up at the second floor windows. "Right, let's pay the Weaver a visit, maybe pick out a new tire at that market down there."

If the consideration even enters her mind that it's not a bright idea to head further into the Dregs with one bum tire, Minnie shrugs it aside, and veers away from the deserted business. But she does comment, "'Liza said she'd come with," in a tone that suggests that she's loathe to ditch her new galpal over something she seemed so keen on.

Janus gives this a few moments' worth of thought, studying the eagerness in Minnie's big hazel eyes and filing all the clues together in order to come up with the deduction. "Alright," he drawls, dipping his head decisively. "Go get a tire patch at the Plaza and then we'll see how she's feeling." Sure, he -might- be worried that she caught sick after all, but the strange delicacy with which he says it suggests he's thinking about the girl's little 'problem' more than her health. Location:Kingsdale - Merchant's Plaza Tags:hamamoto, janus, minnie