mayfield_rpg | ♔ 01

[ Action // 306 Miller Street ]

[Last night, Sansa fell asleep in her quarters at the castle. This morning, she wakes up...somewhere else. For a second, she panics. Has she been kidnapped? Ser Dontos would have told her before taking her anywhere, she's sure of it. But how could kidnappers have gotten into the Red Keep? And who would ever take her to such a strange place as this?

Then she sees the pictures on the wall and panics harder.

It's her. Her as a very small child, grinning a gap-toothed grin in the arms of a man she's never seen before in her life. Her the age she is now, sitting at a table in a funny hat with a cake in front of her, surrounded by more strangers.

Letting out a little shout of fear, she half-leaps, half-falls out of her bed and crashes to the floor, knocking over her nightstand in the process. She scrambles to her feet quickly and rushes out of the bedroom. Anything to be away from those - what? Paintings? Not even the best painter could make something so lifelike. But she doesn't know those people. She doesn't remember those things. Something is very, very wrong.

Residents of 306 Miller, there is now a white-faced, wide-eyed teenage girl wandering around your house and peeking into the rooms. She's trying her best to stay composed, to stay regal and calm, but failing spectacularly - she's trembling hard as she examines her new surroundings, and her hands, clasped properly in front of her, are white-knuckled.]

Hello?

[Her voice is trembling, too, but she tries hard to conceal it. And, again, fails.]

If - if there is anyone here, I should very much like to know where I am.

[ Action // Streets of Mayfield ]

[She's never seen streets like this before, either. Where Sansa comes from, roads inside of towns are made to walk on - so that's just what she's doing. Right down the middle of the street. Currently there's no traffic, which is lucky for her. She still looks frightened, is still desperately trying to pretend that she's not. Where's she going? Well. Uh. She's not sure. But there must be a lord of this place who can help her. In the meantime, she's got a small kitchen knife held tightly in one hand. Just in case.

If you're driving, you're about to spot a redheaded roadblock with no concept of cars. If you're walking around town...it might be a good idea to stop her from getting smeared all over the pavement. Just a thought.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Sansa starts a little at the initial sound of Sarah Jane's voice, but quickly hurries to the sidewalk. She glances around a bit nervously, looking for whatever she's supposed to be careful of.]

Are the roads not safe here, my lady?

[Not that Sarah Jane looks like any sort of lady she's ever met, but this doesn't look like any town she's been in, either. And when Sansa's scared, her noblewoman's manners kick into overdrive. Call it a reflex, after living in court for so long.]

Edited 2012-07-18 04:28 (UTC)

[Not something she's accustomed to being addressed as, but it does support her suspicion's about the girl's home time period]

The vehicles here move a great deal more quickly than I suspect you're accustomed to.

[She doesn't really understand, but she nods anyway.]

And where is here, exactly?

The town is called Mayfield. It's a replica of a small American town in the 1950s, but something else is at play.

[She frowns.]

Forgive me, my lady, but I don't understand. Everyone knows the year is 299. And...and I've never heard of any place called America, in Westeros or Essos.

This is where it gets rather complicated. Even people who are familiar with America have been brought far from their homes here. Both in place and... time.

[In place and time. It doesn't seem possible, but none of this does. And this woman doesn't have any reason to lie to her.]

What place and time are you from, then? If it please you, I would like to know about this land of America. And why I've been brought here.

I'm afraid that last question is something we've all been trying to work out. I'm from England, a country across the ocean from America. Mayfield tries to imitate the era I was born in.

What are you wondering in particular? I've been putting together some notes on the basics.

[England. America. Strange, strange words, but she stores them in the back of her mind.]

Might you tell me why the man and woman in the house I woke in thought I was their daughter? And why there are strange paintings of me on the walls?

They're what we call drones, they follow a very limited script. The people running this town, for whatever reason, want us to think we have always lived here. The arranged families are part of that illusion. As are the pictures. Once photography became a straightforward matter, it became commonplace for homes to be decorated with images of the resident family like that.

I see. [She doesn't, not really, but at least she's beginning to form a picture of the place she's in.] I don't believe I asked for your name, m'lady. Mine is Sansa, of house Stark. Though I suppose that means little here.

[To be honest, it means little where she comes from, these days.]

I'm Sarah Jane Smith.

[She pauses. She's met Arya, but never did catch her surname. But...]

I've only run into one person who used the word Westeros here.

Who?

There's a girl named Arya. A bit younger than you are.

♔ 01

Re: Streets

Re: Streets

Re: [Streets]

Re: [Streets]

Re: Streets

Re: Streets

Re: Streets

Re: Streets

Re: Streets

Re: Streets

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject