Subject: "Shopping Day"
Author:
Posted on: 2014-07-17 06:03:00 UTC
So, to start out, I just want to say that I usually do a ton of editing on my own before I let even a beta read my work. This means that when PC said to “keep your own editing to a minimum . . . Whatever state your rough drafts are typically in when you're ready to get a beta is the state your assignment should be in,” that was a contradiction to me, because my rough drafts are usually pretty smooth before I allow any other human to see them. Ultimately, I'm leaving this piece way rougher than I would like, simply because I haven't gotten any backing up of PPC stories done yet today, and want to spend as much time as possible on that for the rest of the night until I pass out from exhaustion need to go to sleep for work tomorrow. (I'm a bachelor, baby.)
So this is a plotbunny that nibbled upon me while I was reading the surprisingly interesting The Puritan Dilemma: The Story of John Winthrop by Edmund S. Morgan. (Yes, I do read nonfiction sometimes. In very small doses.) It's basically a sneaky way of doing a Real World mission without missioning a real person fic. I'll probably expand it eventually and make it a canon part of my spin-off, but it obviously doesn't take place yet, since Doc and Vania are currently on the verge of a fight.
Hey, look! I kept it under the two page limit! Woo!
* * *
Stepping into the cobbled streets of London through a portal, Doc couldn't help fanning his hands through all the frills that surrounded his neck. “I feel like a I have more petals than the Marquis.”
“No complaining,” said Vania in a low voice, rolling her eyes and seeing the overcast sky above. The grey clouds made the dirty stones around them look even more toneless and dull. “Corsets, corsets, of coursets. Always.”
The exited the alley and followed the corner of the brick building on their left, taking in the activity filling the avenue. Carriages drawn by horses clopped up and down the street at intervals, but the sidewalks were filled with people moving from shop to shop. Heavy, wooden doors opened into each establishment, with gentlemen and ladies filing in and out of each almost constantly. On the corner behind them, a man was standing on a sturdy wooden box, holding a glass bottle aloft before a half-interested crowd.
“Welcome to Earth before inflation,” Vania explained. “Well, before inflation at the level you knew in your time. We can get edible food here for way cheaper.”
Doc glanced back at the man on the corner. “And better than the Cafeteria has?”
“Oh yes. Just—”
“Hang on.” Doc turned around and approached the man. He had caught part of the speech—something about limes—and yanked the bottle from his hand.
Startled and angry, the man said, “Ah, Sir, that does coste six pounds!” He added a soft “uh” sound at the end of “coste.”
Doc uncorked the bottle and took one sniff of the liquid inside. “More watere than either lime or fish liver,” he pronounced. “Save your money for elsewhere, goode people.” With that, Doc tossed the recorked bottle back to the salesman, then turned away and took Vania's hand, leading her away from the angry calls of the man and the laughter of the crowd behind them.
“What was that?” Vania asked.
“Colonization of the Americas is becoming more common right now,” Doc explained. “Scurvy is common during the journey, so some people started taking advantage of it, and selling quack remedies. That stuff was more water than vitamin C.”
Vania allowed herself to be pulled along. “I'm impressed, Doc. That was very take charge of you. Even if it was against the rules.”
Doc froze in midstep in front of another alley, turning around to look at her. (The neck frills spun rather amusingly, like a dancer's skirt.) He stared quizzically, then turned pale. “Oh. This is a world.”
“Yep!”
“And he was a canon character, and that was a canon scene.”
“Yeeeaaah.”
“Oops.”
Vania patted his hand. “No worries. It may not even count, since you're native here. Let's worry about the Flowers after we finish shopping.”
“All right.” Doc looked away, into the alley. “Sorry if—” His eyes widened.
Vania followed his look. Based on the layout of the streets around them, this should have been another dead end alleyway. But it wasn't.
An old person stood behind a wooden cart covered in bottles. People stood around, staring at the figure as if mesmerized, as the seller—the agents couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, with stringy black hair covering the face—held a glistening, twisted bottle aloft, speaking in a low monotone.
The crowd around the cart almost seemed to subconsciously want to escape, as they kept shuffling their shoes uncomfortably against the generic surface they stood on.
Doc stared at the line, two yards into the alley/road, where the pitted cobbles abruptly ended and the flat and featureless ground began, making even the dark stones under that overcast sky look detailed and beautifully colorful. “Is this a fic?” he asked. “Right here, in the middle of the town?” He scanned all the people stepping around them on the sidewalk, and none of them seemed to notice the odd sight down the former alley.
“It certainly looks that way,” she replied, closely watching the figure behind its cart, and the pink eyes that now watched the agents curiously.