(no subject)

[no_sin_but]

Marlowe and Mary Anne, a.k.a Nicholas and Mariane Skeres, step out of Milliways into a muddy village street. Behind them is a tavern, and the swinging sign might be wordless, but it still makes it very clear what the tavern is called.

Marlowe has spent a lot of time at the Hanged Man, and so he just continues as if he'd been in there all along.

It's late afternoon, and warm, and Marlowe swears softly.

Last time he'd been in his world, it'd had been dark and late October.

Comments

[song_tra_bong]

One hand rests on Marlowe's arm, for guidance as much as support, while the other gathers a fold of her skirt to lift it a little further from the mud.

"Everything alright?" she murmurs.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

He glances at her.

"Just time passing...it was nearly winter before," he murmurs back in Latin.

[song_tra_bong]

"Then I expect you need to get caught up on things.."

In a lighter tone, she asks, "Where to now, lovely?"

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

No, shit, he doesn't say.

"Stratford-on-Avon. It's a bit of a walk in the wrong direction, but big enough market to have horses."

[song_tra_bong]

And since he doesn't say it, she doesn't have to kick him in the ankle. They're off to a great start.

"Just lead the way."

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

For the first two minutes?

Yes.

He leads her down the street and then out of the village, looking for all the world as if he belongs there. He doesn't, not with that patch and those once-fine clothes, but he seems as if he should if you don't look too closely.

It's a knack.

In Bar, he almost...no. In Bar, he was short. But here? Taller than average. Admittedly, not by much, but a bit.

[song_tra_bong]

The clothes that Bar provided ensure that Mary Anne passes a quick visual inspection. She keeps her stride a little shorter than normal and her head down, to satisfy any second glances.

Still, this is the easy part. She isn't looking forward to having to talk to anyone other than Kit.




Huh.

Funny old world.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

They pass fields, and their contents are enough to confirm that they are well into spring.

Brilliant.

But if Mary Anne was expecting Marlowe to say anything illuminating or, this being Marlowe, just anything, she is mistaken. He just walks ahead with the easy, mile-eating gait of someone who has done a lot of walking.

She can feel free to keep up.

[song_tra_bong]

She can keep up just fine, thank you.

And while she wasn't exactly expecting him to be chatty...





"What do we do once we get to Stratford?" she asks eventually.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

"Go to the market, buy a pair of decent horses, and then ride to London. Should take about three days."

Beat.

"And I'll stay out of view of Master Shakespeare and his family, should they be around."

[song_tra_bong]

"Wise move," is all she has to say about Master Shakespeare.

"And in London?"

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

"That entirely depends on who I can find, and what the hell is going on," he replies.

Calmly.

[song_tra_bong]

Possibly Mary Anne has an idea of how tenuous this calm might be.

As it is, she just nods and walks a little faster.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

Possibly, Marlowe forgot to mention how much walking they'd be doing. Stratford-on-Avon might be the nearest town, but it is still several hours hard walk. More then several.

Marlowe doesn't talk much, but as they walk into Stratford, the hum of tension around him is almost audible for a moment...

And then it vanishes, and he's just a man strolling into town with his wife.

[song_tra_bong]

Walking's alright.

Hell, back home, walking was pretty much exactly what she did all day. Here at least, it's not raining and nobody's shooting at her.

She slows to a more relaxed pace once they reach the town and hooks her arm lightly through his.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

Across Clopton Bridge, through the east gate, down the muddy street and into the market square with its colourful crowds. They pass stalls and a dancing bear with a flute, and somewhere else a girl with dirty redhair juggled.

But there is a shrillness to the crowd's laughter, tension and nerves rolling from them in waves, and those not making themselves smile looked worried.

[song_tra_bong]

The atmosphere is enough to make her skin crawl. One hand rests a little tighter on Kit's arm; the other rests at her side, partially obscured by a (pocket that leads to her knives under the) fold of her skirt.

"Is it always like this?" she murmurs, watching the crowd carefully.

She tries to pick up on conversations as they walk, but all she ever catches is one word:

"Elizabeth..."

"...Elizabeth..."

"...Elizabeth."

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

Her Majesty Elizabeth

Bess, our Bess, loved us she did

he'll come down with an army, just see

Softly,

"No."

[song_tra_bong]

Oh God

salve, regina, mater misericordiae

eja, ergo, advocata nostra, illos tuos misericordes oculos ad nos converte

eja

eja

turn

"Kit?

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

He turns his head as if he were going to kiss her cheek (and with a young pretty wife like her, who would blame him), and he pitches his voice very, very soft.

"Things just got a wee bit more dangerous."

[song_tra_bong]

"I...yeah."

She swallows nervously (from the death of the queen, from the pieces all getting knocked off the board, from the way things have changed and not at all to do with how close he is right now).

"What now?"

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

His lips brush her skin.

"Watch my back?" Then he gives her a cocky smile and continues walking. Horses, horses, horses...

[song_tra_bong]

"Always, you stupid son of a bitch," she mutters under her breath, out of his earshot, then moves to catch up with him.

This time, she stays slightly behind his shoulder rather than right beside him.


At least until the blush goes down.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

By that stage, Marlowe is arguing with someone.

Sorry.

Bargaining and inspecting some horses with all the ease and assurance of someone who doesn't have to buy these ones, you understand. Just if the price is reasonable, dear sir...

[song_tra_bong]

Mary Anne could not say that she is surprised.

She stops beside Kit, resting a (wifely) hand on his shoulder.

"Found any you like, dearest?"

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

He gestures to the horses with a jerk of his head.

"See any you like?"

[song_tra_bong]

She considers the horses for a moment.

"Hmmm...some that might do well. But..."

And here she wavers, or at least appears to. "What do you think?"

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

He glances at them, and then back at the man. He names a price, and the dealer starts wailing and protesting.

Marlowe repeats, calmly.






Eventually, they get the horses. Someone might have had a little too much fun.

[song_tra_bong]

"On to London, then?"

When what she means is On to London, still?

As if there's somewhere else they can go, at a time like this.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

"On to London."