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Harriet Maria Mayers

There's worse things than death, here.

0 · 82 views · located in Wing City

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by NotAFlyingToy

Description

The Protomen wrote:They say this city has been dead for years now.
So death is not something that scares me.



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So begins...

Harriet Maria Mayers's Story

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Harriet's long, amber hair flowed over her shoulder as she sauntered into the bar, her fingers slowly rotating a flip-phone in their grasp. Over and over it went, the light flickering off of the phone casting in odd shapes along the walls. She was confident, high-born, and almost snobby... if it weren't for her nervous twitching, and constant shifting of her eyes.

Sitting down at the counter of the bar, she tapped her phone lightly against the surface, quietly absorbing the atmosphere of the place as she tapped the touch screen, searching for her drink of choice. As she tapped, she hummed.

Jingle Bells, Jingle bells...

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Harriet's long, amber hair flowed over her shoulder as she sauntered into the bar, her fingers slowly rotating a flip-phone in their grasp. Over and over it went, the light flickering off of the phone casting in odd shapes along the walls. She was confident, high-born, and almost snobby... if it weren't for her nervous twitching, and constant shifting of her eyes.

Sitting down at the counter of the bar, she tapped her phone lightly against the surface, quietly absorbing the atmosphere of the place as she tapped the touch screen, searching for her drink of choice. As she tapped, she hummed.

Jingle Bells, Jingle bells...

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Finishing her little tune, Harriet slid the cell phone back into her pocket, her fingers curling with the effort not to simply take it back out again. She was addicted to the feel of the buttons, the way that the smooth plastic and small glass window felt under her calluses was wonderfully sooting, for some strange reason. Still, her neck prickled as she felt someone's stare on the back of her neck. Turning slightly, she caught sight of Niana, sitting with her back against the wall, surveying the patrons. Harriet arched an eyebrow at the other woman, standing from her perch to make her way towards her.

"Lookin' for someone?"

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Harriet nodded, her hand slowly extending downwards, rubbing the pocket where her phone sat, feeling the cover through the denim. "Man problems?" She queried, nodding at a chair facing the woman, seating herself quickly. "I can relate to those, dear. Who are you waiting for? Husband?"

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Harriet nodded, leaning forward slightly as she watched the other woman, wondering at her purpose for being here. "It's been some time since I had contacts," Harriet said, resting her elbows on her knees. As she leaned forward, a silver chain dangled from her neck, two dog-tags hanging with a soft rattle of metal. She shook out her hair, leaning backwards.

"I don't mean to pry," she began, "but there's few interesting people around here, and you definitely take the cake. What's your name?"

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Harriet leaned forward, offering her hand to the other woman, a small smile on her face. "Confident, too. Hello, Niana. I'm Harriet." She chuckled slightly to herself, watching the other woman quietly. "You look like you could tell some stories, my friend. Epic yarns that would last me until the next morning. Do you drink? I could grab us some."

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Harriet frowned slightly as her hand hung in outer space for a few moments, before shaking the snub off and rising. At the bar counter, she tapped out a quick order of two rum and cokes, a light beer, and four shots before walking back towards the table with the whole nine yards of alcoholic goodness. Reseating herself with the tray on the table, she winked at Niana, placing one of the Rum and Coke's in front of her.

"Sometimes, when life starts beating on you, you just need to have some alcohol. You know?" She chatted, sipping at the dark liquid before giving a slight shudder. "Okay, then. What's your story? How'd you get to Wing City?"

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Harriet nodded, pointing around her mixed drink with a slender, piano playing finger. "Yeah, Wing City has a habit of that. She chews up engines and spits 'em out. There's one woman that's been waiting for her car to be fixed for... oh, about a year now? Anytime she turns it on, the thing dies on her again." Harriet let out a harsh laugh at that, her fingers tapping at her glass as she took another hearty sip.

"You can hold your liquor, I can tell you that much. So, who's this contact you got coming? Or is it mysteeeerious?"

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Harriet yelps at the sudden attack, a muffled "Fuck!" escaping her lips as she jets to her feet. Immediately, a small detective's revolver is in her grip, retrieved from under her sweater, tucked into the back of her jeans. "What's goin-"

She stopped as she saw the victim, and put the gun back into her waistband. "Oh, hell, Niana. It's just a boy."

Walking around the table, Harriet crouched in front of the newcomer, her eyes wide and observant. "You okay? What were you doing prowling around over here?"

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Harriet clapped her hands over her ears, muttering "Stopstopstop" until the sound dissipated. "Look, kid," she began, "I know that you're... you know, hurt, or whatever, but the lady's right. Between you and me, she doesn't seem like the person to walk around with bare steel, you know what I mean? You could be dying, for all you know. Someone who packs that kind of poison usually isn't kind enough to supply you with an antidote."

She nodded to the vial. "Drink it, my man. And come sit with us - so long as you don't start screeching agai-"

She's cut off as he begins to cry again. "Oh, come now..." She whispered.

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Harriet glances up at Niana "Or, okay, yeah. That's one way, I guess."

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Harriet nodded quietly. "Okay, maybe we can amend that? If you don't stop crying LOUDLY, she'll kill you."

Harriet looked between the two. "Can all parties agree to that?"

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Harriet nodded, and then shook her head rapidly, not knowing what, if anything, to say to that. "I... believe you?" She says, in a lilting tone. "You seem like you've been through a lot, kiddo. How old are you, anyways? Eight? Nine?"

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"Ten years old. Phew. I don't even remember the last time I saw someone as young as you." Harriet jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Hell, I bet it's been even longer for Niana, back there. Don't mind her; she's probably crabby because someone stole her oatmeal, and her special friend isn't showing up."

Harriet offered a hand to the boy, intending to help him to his feet. "Come sit with us. We have special drinks; they'll make you feel nice and relaxed. You want to feel relaxed, right?"

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"Mmm," Harriet mused, tapping a finger to her lip, "That really depends on the secret, kiddo." She began to lead the boy back towards their seats, pressing her own rum and coke into his hands. "Drink that."

Kicking her feet up, back in her chair, she let out a long sigh. "Look, Niana," she said, through the other woman's ranting, "I brought us a special present." She tittered to herself before winking towards the small boy.

"For instance, kiddo, if you told me you were a giant thermonuclear weapon, I wouldn't stick around. Certain secrets need to be told to save lives, and stuff. Or something. Whatever, I'm not your moral compass. What kind of secret did you want to share? How many toys you have?"

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Harriet patted the boy's knee, tapping her dog-tags with her free hand. "Buddy, if you've seen what I've seen, you would know. You. Would. Know."

She tittered again, taking two of the shots on the table in rapid succession, before turning her eyes back towards him. "You aren't drinking your drink!" She chastised, before softening. "Now, what is it you have to say? I'm sure I can keep your secret."

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Harriet blinked, quickly, and tapped the kid's knee again. "Ghost Ee-three? What's that? Some kinda condition? That's okay; I'm a red-head. I feel your pain. Did you know that most people think that red-heads have no souls? I mean really."

Then, she tilted her head as the alcohol started to wash through her. "Which makes me wonder. What exactly is a soul?"

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Harriet whirled in her chair at the sound of tapping, and gave a cheery wave. "Helloooooo, sir." She sing-songed. "I have drinks! Drinks are lovely. Would you like a drink with me?"

She turned back to the boy, confusedly looking around where the boy used to sit. "Um. Eee-three? Where'd ya go? Is this the ghost-bit?"

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Harriet lounged in the chair, and suddenly paused. "Oh, I'm 'posed to look under the table. Come with!" She called, before peering underneath the wood. "Eee-three? You under here, kiddo? You pulled a vanishing act on me."

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Harriet blinked.

"Dude. Talk about puberty." She muttered, her eyes roving around the smaller, furry... thing that replaced the boy. She arched an eyebrow as she took him in. "Technically, I didn't say anything. You pretty much showed my new friend - we're friends, right? - your secret all on your own."

She cocked a grin. "You're sure cute, though."

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Forest Border

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On the floor of the ship lay a woman with bright red hair, her arms bound around a small metal chair that lay on its side. Through her gag and red face, her blue eyes slid up to behold Kamala, giving him a long once-over. Growling slightly, she began to rock backwards, looking to get away from him, renewing her panicked screams.

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Harriet's eyebrows shot upwards, incredulous. With a pointed look at him, she began gnawing on her gag, growling out the back of her throat as she chewed furiously on the thin piece of cloth. Did he not see that she was tied up, and would very much appreciate not being so?

Gripping the gag with her teeth and pulling backwards on it, pushing it further into her mouth, she nodded once, very clearly, to the man standing in the ship. Wiggling slightly on her side, she threw a pointed look at the restraints around her wrist, indicating that if he wouldn't mind, she would like to be fucking untied, right now.

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As soon as her wrists were freed, Harriet ripped the gag from her mouth, ejecting red streaks of hair and saliva from her mouth with a violent spit. Wiping the taste of the gag from her lips, she eyed the man, standing at her full five foot, seven inch frame. Her eyes lanced daggers at him, hands firmly settling on her hips.

"Thank you," she began, primly, before suddenly rearing herself up, "now what the fuck are you doing here, and who the fuck are you!?"

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Harriet lifted an eyebrow. "Psycho McBatshitface?" She queried, spreading her hands. "I don't know who the hell you're talking about, kid."

She stepped around him, her eyes widening as she beheld the man lying in a pool of his own blood, a coat wrapped around him haphazardly to stem the blood flow. "Woah," she muttered, turning back to face him, her jaw slack. "Did you do that? That's... how did you do that?"

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Harriet's eyes widened, taking a step back from him, her arms slowly folding over her frame. "Let me get this straight," she said, slowly. "You wandered here, he attacked you and was going to kill you, and you shanked him - by accident - and now he's lying dead in a pool of his own blood. And you're seriously asking me if you should be doing something?"

She raised he hands in a sudden flail. "Either you're obfuscating stupidity, or you're actually clueless. You're telling me that you don't know who that is? You don't know who's ship you're on, or the man that you just murdered 'by accident'"?

She accompanied the last two words with air quotations, incredulity colouring her expression.