Eighteenth little lie ♰ This is the story of the road that goes to my house

[beingdifferent]

Has anyone been seeing unusual things? More unusual than is customary here, of course. [She turns the communicator to the mirror hanging on her wall – it’s shattered, and the reflection catches her in bizarre images. Some of the shards are much too broad, extending the shape of her face far outward. Others shrink her reflection, and a few of the larger pieces curve and warp the lines of her face, neck, and shoulders.] This does look strange to the rest of you, does it not? It’s never done that before.

[Private to Jean]
May I… [The ease with which she can talk to Ned is, while a tiny step forward, still heartening, and gives her the bravery to be honest in her request.] May I speak with you? In your professional role?

[Garden spam]
[Picking flowers from any of the beds or pots in the garden is a forbidden act. It is, Esther notes, quite a shame; the blooms are vivid and bright, quite healthy despite the odd environment they grow in, and she appreciates a nice bouquet of cut flowers. She has no intention of angering any wandering horticulturist, though, and keeps herself to the flowers growing out of the lawn.

Buttercups, daisies, dandelions – nothing exotic or beautiful, but she still harvests a great deal of them and holds them in a fold of her skirt when she settles on the grass. They won’t make a bouquet, but she can still use them to adorn her cabin, and she begins, fastidiously, weaving them into a chain.]

Comments

[to_dust]

It's always too distant, and I can't track it down. That's strange; usually I have quite good hearing but I couldn't find who it was or even recognize the voices.

[beingdifferent]

Can you recognize any details about the voices? Words, accents, sexes?

[to_dust]

Maybe-- a man's voice? Yes, I think that's right. But. Odd. As if I'm hearing it around too many corners, or through a filter. Like-- not like a Dalek at all, actually, but the voice changed from what it should be the same way.

Oh, it's frustrating! [He gives a little disgusted sound at the barge in general.]

[beingdifferent]

A voice modulator. [At least that's what she's fairly sure the devices are called in English, in her time period. She'd picked that term up somewhere, a television show or novel.]

Perhaps if you sit somewhere quiet and concentrate?

[to_dust]

You're right.

Would you mind if I tried your room? I don't want to intrude on anything private, but it seems as if the distortion is strong in there.

[beingdifferent]

[The question takes her by surprise.]

No, I suppose not. However, I'll warn you it's not much to look at.

[to_dust]

My room is a sandstone monk's cell. So I promise to just listen and not look around with a critical eye or else you can come critique my decorations. Or lack thereof.

[There's a fraction of a reassuring smile somewhere in there.]

[beingdifferent]

[Her room is a mixture of childish lace and pink ruffles mixed in with splintered furniture from her previous rages. But for the sake of discovery, which she is sure C'rizz will value above judgment, she nods.]

If you like. My room number is 14, on level 3.

[to_dust]

Thank you-- I'll be there in just a moment.

[beingdifferent]

The door is unlocked.

[And she's been hovering behind it, reminiscent of nothing so much as a drab navy-blue hummingbird. She doesn't intend to spend long in the room once C'rizz arrives but she'll welcome him in like a good hostess.]

[to_dust]

Thank you.

[Nothing to do, really, to prepare-- he heads down to the third deck and knocks politely, if nervously. He's a little afraid of what he'll find, if there is anything to hear. This all makes him nervous, reminds him of the TARDIS failing.]

[beingdifferent]

C'rizz? [she asks, peering out of the cracked door.] Please, come in.

[So far the mirror is the strangest phenomenon Esther has come across. Nothing else in the little room (which contains only bookshelves, a toy chest, a broken aquarium, and a twin canopy bed: it's her bedroom from the Colemans' house) is different than usual.]

[to_dust]

[He doesn't ask. Not about any of it. It's easier- better-- to keep away from other people's pasts so that they'll keep away from his.]

I won't be long, I hope. I'll just sit quietly-- here? Is this good, in the middle? And listen. I heard some of that strange music on the way, maybe I'll be lucky.

[beingdifferent]

[That is appreciated, and she gestures toward the bed, the only place to sit besides the floor.] You can take a seat there if you like.

Music as well?

[to_dust]

No, the floor will be better, easier to focus. And there is music, too, or there was. Funny, cheerful music. I heard something like it outside the TARDIS when we visited Blackpool.

I wasn't feeling well. I didn't go out-- I don't know what sort of instrument it was.

Well. No time like the present. [He takes a deep breath and sits down on the floor, folding his legs under him and dropping into a relaxed pose as if he's going to meditate.]

You can stay if you like. Or... leave, if you like, because this will be very boring. Man sits on floor. Not the gala entertainment event of the year.

[beingdifferent]

If you prefer. You're welcome to use the room as you need. [Esther cants her head. If she was the type to say "That's weird," she would now.] This will sound strange, but can you hum the tune?

Will it be more comfortable if I wait outside?

[to_dust]

It doesn't matter-- and it is your room.

Here-- [he whistles it, instead, a jaunty tune, more or less on key.]

Sorry, not much of a musician.

[beingdifferent]

Will I distract you?

Are you sure? That's circus music.

[to_dust]

Yes-- that high pitched part sort of coming down was definitely what I heard.

I'll tell you if I need more quiet-- it should be fine.

[And he starts to focus, to just -- listen, not too hard, trying to do anything hard always makes it more difficult. He starts to pick up the colours of the floor, as if his hindbrain thinks hiding from the sound will make it come out.]

[beingdifferent]

[As he said it looks like nothing so much as sitting on the floor and thinking. Wary of disturbing him, Esther crosses her arms and stands quietly by the door, wondering what he's discovering.]

[to_dust]

[Seconds stretch into minutes. C'rizz lets his mind wander and his ears pick up everything-- the rustle of Esther's slight movements, the moving and murmuring of people out in the hall... footsteps above, a muffled conversation below.

Almost in a trance, he listens.

And then after about ten minutes he cracks one yellow eye, sheepishly. He's got nothing.]

...Well, the good news is that your room doesn't have ghostly laughter in it.

[beingdifferent]

[Esther exhales loudly, no longer worried about the sound of her breath.]

That's a relief. Did you notice anything else?

[to_dust]

Nothing-- not music or laughter or odd smells or anything people have been talking about. The more I listened, the less there was.

It's almost as if it doesn't want to be found.

[beingdifferent]

It's trying to frighten us.

Look in the mirror. It shows itself there.

[to_dust]

[C'rizz gets to his feet and peers into the glass, trying to track down the distortions-- they're there, at the corners of his vision, but when he looks at them straight on it's only plain shattered glass.]

I don't much care for things trying to control me through fear. It's rather irritating. [There's an unusually dark edge to that mild statement.]

I'm sorry I couldn't find anything. Do you feel safe, here? If you want somewhere else to stay until it stops... well, my room's not much, but it hasn't actually got any mirrors.