A little night weaving [Kayan/Public]

Evening at her new home. While most were getting ready to sleep, the strangely adorned girl (most couldn't remember such a name, but oh, they could remember the face) was hard at work by a few candlelights on her loom. Or, the one she borrowed. The one she took without asking. She liked nighttime-- it wasn't nearly as hot as day (and heat affected her so much more) and there was all the time in the world to reflect. And if she fell asleep, there was a half-made blanket there to fall on.

Luck had really smiled upon Phyu for coming here. Perhaps America was just a lucky place. But... to another person's eyes her circumstances and actions wouldn't have been considered luck.

She was brought over from her home country (a nice life, she was sad to leave it) forcibly by a very tall man whose language sounded exceptionally silly and who said his name was "deer-drip" or something like that (once she had learned more english, she realized it was quite an odd name). She was angry at him for a while, after all, who believes it's okay to steal a person? It seemed as if he had plans for her, but (most likely due to the fact that how insufferably talkative she was trumped over whatever appeal her brass-coiled body had to potential freakshows) he left her on the side of the road by a gas station with a few quarters.

Not having seen that kind of money up close, she played with the quarters for a while (she could spin them!) until a large line of beat-up cars and wagons and traincars lumbered its way up to the station to refuel. Leaving the quarters in the dust, she decided to join the tribe (although they all looked different from each other)-- not that they noticed at first. But when they did, she was happy to oblige, saying yes, she would work and make money. Tribes were meant to be nice, and welcoming... but all they did at first was stare at her. She had proved to them quite angrily, puffed-cheeked, and loudly that she was nothing to leer at (though leering wasn't the right word... 'fathoming' was more correct). And so they had left her alone. Which consequently made her feel alone. Which was not how a tribe was supposed to feel.

So she would spend nights raiding the spare clothes and taking them apart, and pulling them to threads to create things for those that were supposed to be her friends. Some had warmed up to her, and had explained that the staring wasn't all bad. She couldn't take that at face value. Which was why she liked these nights. She didn't have to keep an eye out if people around were staring, because all there was in that big empty expanse was her. It felt very safe... but too lonely to want always. Night was all well and good but one of the better parts was waiting for the day again. So she sat, and hummed, and sewed, and threaded, and waited. Who knew she could go through the motions of a day at home in a place so different?

((Was going to reply with Itak, since obviously all indigenous people are best buddies (/shotdown), but then I thought about it, and... He doesn't need to be visiting women at this time of day. :I XD So have Allen, just because I miss the 'modern sciency person meets jungle native' routine--/shot XD))

Allen was likewise not getting ready for sleep. On clear nights like these, he found himself inexplicably drawn outside into the crisp evening air to look at the darkened sky. He wasn't sure why, really; as a doctor, there was nothing about space that should have been even remotely close to his interests. 

And yet he'd shuffle out at every opportunity, with or without his telescope, to gaze up at the cosmos with a kind of hopeless longing. It didn't make sense, even to him, that he should want to be in space, when there was (or so he assumed) nothing out there. But sometimes he had dreams where he could see a half-sphere of brilliant blue and swilrling white, and he'd realize in a moment of revelation that he was viewing the earth from the moon.

And when he'd wake up, he'd sit in his bed in a daze for the longest time, wondering how he could know what such an image looked like...when it had never been seen before.

The more he dreamed this, the more he wanted it to become reality--though he knew it was, of course, impossible. He had to content with stargazing.

Unfortunately, on that particular night, he'd accidentally knocked over his telescope and knocked a screw loose. Having no way to search the grass in the dark, he'd rushed to the tents in a panic to find a candle.

He walked in without really expecting anyone to be there (why would they be, anyways?), which was why it was quite the surprise to see the long-necked girl spinning her loom in the glow of candlelight, like some kind of image from a very surreal dream. He'd never seen her previously (he'd been busy the past few days), but she invoked the same strange feeling of compassion that only certain people could (it didn't seem to have any rhyme or reason; he felt it for Arash and his mother, yet not for Sofia and some of the other freaks, who'd lived even harder lives).

And yet, he was both a man who cared deeply about the plight of mankind...and a loner. He wasn't used to being around people on more than a professional level.

"Oh...sorry," he cleared his throat, as though he'd interrupted something (and maybe he had), "I was just looking for something..." Knowing that they would have to meet eventually (he was everyone's physician here), he offered a handshake, "I don't think we've met. I'm Allen Jones, the doctor."

She hadn't noticed him approach in the dim light. Once he spoke out of nowhere, she jumped, bracelets and brass coils sounding out her wariness.

For a while, all she could do was stare and attempt to translate what she'd heard. Of course, he probably was confused-- but she didn't know enough English to tell him why she wasn't saying anything. So she stared and frowned, every once in a while glancing at his hand and trying to figure out what that meant. Finally taking her hands off of the loom, she smiled lightly, glad he wasn't only staring at her neck, and touched a hand to his (was that right?). "Phyu Hla." She wasn't sure what a 'doctor' was-- but maybe that was why he was out this late?

It struck him perhaps too late that there was a very real possibility that she didn't speak English. But she'd given him a name: Phyu Hla...or at least, he assumed it was a name. It could have been anything, really.

He took her hand and shook it gently. "Doctor Jones," he repeated, a little more slowly (but not more loudly, as some people tended to do with foreigners; it annoyed him, as volume of voice didn't really help anything), "It's good to meet you." Then, uncertainly, "Do you speak English...?" If not, then he wouldn't know what to say or do, expect leave and feel a bit awkward.

Glancing at the candles around her, he wondered where she'd gotten them from and whether there were any left. He had some in his tent, of course, but it was a little further away... "I'm looking for a candle," he explained (so that it wouldn't seem like he was just creeping around aimlessly), pointing at one. The way the light from it danced off of the many rings of metal on her nearly hurt his eyes, but...it was pretty, in a way. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen such a thing before, but after working with the 'freaks' at Mistique (and being a doctor in general, really), nothing much could surprise him anymore.

She tried her best to repeat his name... But... "what... What about 'Allen'?" To her, he had used two different names. She was more confused than ever.

Did she speak English? Now they were getting somewhere. "....Enough!" She replied enthusiastically. "I know enough!" It was something to be proud of, considering the difference in language.

She went to see what he was pointing to-- candles, that was what they were-- and thankfully didn't see his stare (more of a look, really, but she wouldn't have thought so). Carefully, she lifted one out of the lantern and stood to hand it to him. "You're welcome." She smiled, thinking she was saying the right thing at the right time.

"I'm Allen," he replied, equally confused until he thought about it for a second. Then, quickly, he clarified, "Allen is my first name, but most people call me Dr. Jones. ...Or 'Jones'. Or just 'the doctor'." He half-grinned, half-grimaced on the last part. He honestly wasn't sure if many of the people here remembered his real name. 'The doctor' was actually fairly appropriate, since that was the only presence he had in the carnival: the doctor who fixed everyone. Not that he tried very hard to have a presence; he did live separately from the others and pretty much kept to himself until he was needed.

The relief that she did, indeed, understand English to some extent, was short-lived when she gave him a candle, and accepted a gratitude that he hadn't even had the chance to give yet (he didn't bother correcting it, though).

"Oh--thank you," he hadn't expected her to give him one of hers, though in retrospect, perhaps he shouldn't have pointed at it, "I only need it for a moment; I lost a piece of my telescope outside, and I can't see..." Would she know what any of that meant? How much was 'enough'? Well, if she didn't understand, then he'd just step out and then come right back to return it as soon as he found the missing screw.

Well at least she knew he seemed to follow the naming rules from where she had come from-- but that meant she also had to figure out what to call him for herself.

She smiled and nodded at his explanation, although she didn't know what a telescope was and she was fairly certain he could see-- he was seeing her right then, wasn't he? She wouldn't say anything. Maybe something was wrong with his head.

That made her suspicious. Would she get the candle back? Wherever he was going to take that candle, she would be close behind. But what if this 'telescope' thing was going to be dangerous, if it needed flame? "What's telescope?" She asked finally, hoping to hear what she would be getting into.

What was a telescope? How to even explain it in simple terms? Actually, there was probably a very simple way to describe it, but not to the extent that he'd like to (to him, it was one of mankind's most wondrous instruments).

"It's a thing that lets you look at the sky at night, but...more closely," he struggled to find appropriate words, then, giving up, he gestured for her to follow, "I'll show you, if you want."

Holding the candle carefully so that the flame wouldn't go out, he exited the tent and made his way outside to the grassy field nearby. His telescope had been laid carefully on it's side, one of the legs of the tripod holding it up dislocated at the middle. Balancing the candle awkwardly between a few fingers, he picked up the device and stood it up, holding the broken leg steady with his free hand as he glanced through the lens for a moment to focus it on the patch of brilliant, indescribable clouds of pure color he'd been looking at earlier.

Moving back, still keeping it steady, he pointing with the hand still holding the candle up at the night sky, "Do you see that place where it's a little brighter? This," he gestured at the telescope, "will let you look closer. Just put your eye up to here," a tap on the eyepiece, "like I just did."

((LOOK AT HOW BEAUTIFUL IT IS--/sob Why do I always cry when I look at nebulae. :I))

She wanted to ask, 'Why?' she'd loved under the sky her entire life and hadn't seen it do one interesting thing. But she wouldn't ask, because this man seemed crazy enough already-- his explanation would only be nonsensical. So she followed him, and realized that a telescope didn't seem to be as scary as she thought.

...But she didn't understand that one wasn't to shove their face to the eyepiece. After a squeaky "Ow!" She backed up and looked into the lens, whatever grievances she'd had before completely going silent.

In awe, after a few moments she looked back at him. "This real...?"

((Fjdfndjfj that is so gorgeous~ I love seeing things like that))