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NaNo part 5

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Nov. 13th, 2010 | 06:37 am
mood: amusedamused

Dusted off, and with key equipment (and wardrobe) back in sorts, the lady and the gunslinger seek their own route to travel. Whatever cosmic shakeup and tumbler they experienced, it’s cast them into the midst of a large, four-walled structure, open to the sky. The stone blocks that constitute the walls may have been laid to have weather an untold amount time, but the tiles of the roof lay scattered among rot and debris covering the floor.

The woman in the full skirt and dainty-heeled, lace-up, leather boots takes mincing steps to the doorway. The way is blocked by one beam of the frame which has fallen across the gap, although the view is clear enough.

“Dean,” she says, then waits expectantly for the other party to answer her summons as she takes in the view of the street beyond. “Far as I can see there ain’t a thing to tell us where we are, ‘cepting the sign over that building yonder. Not that it looks to me it’ll matter much. This place is emptier ‘an a saloon on Sunday; a real ghost town, wouldn’t y’say?”

Her companion in the cowboy hat grunts; preoccupied, apparently, by the effort of dislodging the obstacle in their way. “...Sure. Don’t see no one.”

The beam falls with a low thud and stirs a gentle cloud of dust from hard-packed ground. Task accomplished, the one called Dean raises eyes to the sign which was mentioned. “It mean anythin’ to you?”

“‘Rodinia Central Command Branch’? Not a damn sight. Although;” Stepping closer, the woman in full finery examines a fallen placard, smaller than the crumbling letters overhead but still imposing in its own way. Once -- before sun, dust, and ageing -- its text would have been a bright, warning-light red. “‘Authorized Personnel Only’ surely does have a universal ring to it. Milit’ry, I’d hazard to guess; if only as a hunch.”

Dean scoffs, turning to scan the street in the opposite direction. Nothing more interesting that way, nor particularly enlightening. The area is a grid of the same caved-roofed buildings and overgrown walkways as far as the eye can see.

“Sumpthin’ suggests to me you are not impressed, sugarpie.”

“No-good, know-nuthin’ boot shiners ken eat dirt ‘n choke onnit.”

The expression of ill-will seems to amuse the lady. She keeps her good humor, even as she shields her eyes with a lace-gloved hand and spies a glint in the sky which heralds the arrival of a flying machine on clamorous wings.

“In that case, sweetheart, I hope you can mind your manners anyhow; I have another hunch they might have a few words for us about not bein’ as ‘authorized’ as we ought to be.”


umm yes! oo . . To get to this part I skipped some other things I intended to put first. But these two just seemed like they'll be sooo fun--and sure enough they were tonight.

Alsooo: I almost made it "eat sh*t 'n choke", but even though that made me laugh it did seem too vulgar to suit me. And, I mean, it wasn't really necessary, so. :D *halo of innocence*

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