Log [Haroun, Alison and Miles] Visiting Muir...

[x-dazzler.livejournal.com]

After arriving on Muir Island the previous night, Haroun, Alison and Miles take advantage of a short run of moderately good weather to do the tourist thing for a few hours and wander about the village near the coast to get a feeling for the local atmosphere. Set after this log.



It was one of those rare moments where the weather was pretending to cooperate for a few hours - the dampness from the waterfront was still prevalent, but the air was clear and crisp and the heavens weren't pouring down sleet, ice or snow on them just yet. There was even the hint of sunlight every now and then, teasingly bouncing back and forth behind the cloud cover.

Miles was holding on to Alison's hand and looking around with wide eyes - he'd been used to the city and the bustling of people there, but this was new and different. And the last time they'd truly been out was still all too clear in his mind for him to let go and try to explore with the usual curiosity he would have shown. Alison's hold on him was equally strong, though she stopped now and then to smile at him reassuringly. The village was quaint, nothing much in the way of anything even remotely tourist attraction like, which lent it an air of quiet sleepiness which was oddly reassuring.

"This is nice," Alison murmured, smiling a bit to herself - the tenseness was there and she couldn't help being watchful, but it wasn't as bad as the small bit of shopping she'd done before Christmas, back home.

Haroun, walking alongside of Alison, had his hands crammed into his new duster. "Relax." he told her, sensing more than noticing her tenseness. "Nothing to be worried about, unless the locals decide to be xenophobic." he told her, with a fine disregard for Miles' presence. "So what would you like to see first?"

"Moira said they would not mind Miles," the small boy pointed out, although he was mostly distracted by the sight of a few people walking down the other side of the road in the distance, clearly heading for the local pub. Whether they'd noticed Miles or not wasn't clear, but either way the cheerful chatter drifting down towards them didn't waver in the least. a

"Just wandering around works for me," Alison replied, after squeezing Miles' hand lightly. "It's so quiet here," she marveled, noting how subdued Miles was being and putting it down to a combination of travel tiredness and well, being out without his inducer, which he'd been wary about but willing to try after Moira's assurances of safety.

After a moment, Miles turned up to look at the two adults - wandering up and down the village was fine and all, but he wanted to see things. "If Haroun and Alison do not have any they want to see, could we go to the Myths of the Island museum?" The housekeeper had told him it would be a fun place to go, before they'd left.

Haroun looked at Alison, who shrugged. "Ask correctly, and we'll go." he told Miles. As the boy tacked a please onto his request, Haroun looked at Alison again, then to Miles. "Then yes, we may indeed go see the Myths of the Island museum." he said, heading off at a leisurely pace towards the aforementioned museum.

Smiling a bit at the interplay, which apparently both parties were entirely satisfied with, Alison followed, Miles leading ahead just a touch. There was a hint of cheer about him as he even indulged in a few skips, offering Alison a brief smile before looking ahead again as though he might see the Museum already somehow. The directions were easy to follow, as was mostly anything in the small town. It wasn't the little sight seeing they could do or the local shopping which was important to Alison right now, however.

Just being able to walk outside without worrying (too much) about anything else was nothing short of amazing. "Mmm. Last one there is a rotten egg!" She let go of Miles hand and darted forward, laughing cheerfully at the indignant yelp that followed her.

Haroun watched the two of them race. He briefly considered getting involved, but A) this seemed to be one of those mother-son things for Westerners and B) he could be, from a certain point of view, already be considered the "rotten egg". So he was content to watch the boy scramble forward - he contemplated offering the boy a few tips on how to run faster - and watching Alison's very shapely body dart forward. Now that was a thing of beauty indeed.

It was partly about making herself not look everywhere and be on her guard, even if only for a moment. And mostly about giving Miles the chance to relax as well and just be a little boy and nothing else for a while, since she had no doubt he'd been picking up on her watchfulness and following her lead there. It also was, she admitted to herself, just plain fun, as well. The run to the Museum consisted of darting forward and then doubling back for the most part, resulting in Miles and Alison arriving at the main entrance barely a few moments before Haroun himself. Giggling, Miles held on to Alison's hand, leaning on her with a far more childlike air about him than he'd had earlier in the day, while peering up at the museum's old, hand carved sign.

"This does look interesting," she murmured, turning to look at Haroun as he neared them and offering him a smile, along with another glance at the sign. The place was as weather worn and old looking as the other buildings around them, though a peek through the window showed a distinctively warm and welcome air to the place.

Haroun quirked his eyebrows at Alison and then nodded. "Let's go ahead and see what there is to see." he said with a smile, holding the door open for both Miles and Alison. The museum itself was pure kitsch, with an old Scotswoman sitting in a rocking chair, telling stories of glories gone by to anyone who would listen. Haroun ignored her for the time being, preferring to examine their collection of artifacts. Coins, weapons, armor, even some preserved snatches of cloth. Each with their own story to tell, a tale of times gone by.

Considering they were the only ones there, it didn't take long before the woman had Miles comfortably installed, discreetly assuring Alison she'd stick to the happier tales of yore. Leaving them to it, Miles quite happily paying careful attention to the storyteller's every word, Alison wandered over to Haroun's side. "Found anything you find interesting?" she asking in soft tones.

"Besides you?" Haroun replied, using the same soft tones she used to him. "Some nice weapons on display here." he said, motioning to a few ancient axes and swords. "A whole lot of history here. I am pleasantly surprised. How about you?"

That earned him a smile, the calm of the place obviously starting to settle comfortably on Alison. She leaned against him just a bit, looking at the weapons he'd gestured to carefully. "It's the entire place in general that's nice, really." She leaned forward slightly, peering at one axe in particular, the metal scarred and pitted by time. "The village has been here for centuries from what Moira's said before."

"So I hear." he replied. "A pity that the local weather is so bad that many of the artifacts have rusted away and been lost." he said sadly. "But Miles seems to be enjoying the Story Hour." he said, his eyes glancing over to the entranced Muppet and the Scottish grandmother. Haroun understood maybe one word in four - the local accent sounded like mush to his ears - but Miles apparently didn't have any such problems.

"I think it's the accent as much as anything else that has him enraptured like that." Alison chuckled lowly, following his gaze towards the green-skinned boy - the grandmotherly woman apparently hadn't been fazed by that in the least, too. "I can't blame him, although I have my own favorite accent already. I get to hear it all the time, too." A crooked grin accompanied that statement.

Haroun couldn't help but grin at that. "Is that so?" he said, deliberately playing his accent up for her ears. "I live to serve." He smirked, and then moved to the next set of displays. "Bibles." he said with amusement. "Lovely."

"And what would we be finding in the local museums in Marrakesh, mmm?" Alison paused at the next exhibit, eyebrows going up slowly. "You're right though. Those are lovely," she crooned out the words, the illuminated parchments displayed under the casing gleaming up at them in brilliant hues of green, blues and reds, many of them edges in gold. "This must have been done locally and preserved by - yes, that's what it says here," she grinned a bit, peering down at the tag describing how the local church had carefully preserved the pages of a Book of Hours sent to them by a monk born in the area, while working at a far off monastery, centuries ago.

Haroun grinned. "All sorts of things. Illuminated scrolls, pages from ancient Korans, lost Greek wisdom preserved by Arab translators, tribal spirits, gold and jewels beyond description ... you name it." he bragged. "Marrakesh is an ancient city."

The clear pride on his features earned him a fond look and Alison moved a bit closer, brushing against him lightly. "You'll show me one day," she murmured lowly, not a question so much as something to look forward to at one point. 

Haroun grinned. "Perhaps. There's nothing stopping you from going on your own. I can't go, for reasons you already know." He stopped to admire some of the examples of the calligraphy. "I could arrange a local guide, a place to stay, places to go..." he mused.

Looking at him pensively as he thought how to send her off there on her own, Alison smiled faintly. If she could go from being a rock star to being an X-Man, she could figure out a way to get him into Marrakesh. And if he made plans now well, there was no reason why they simply couldn't adapt them to include him when the time came. And as surprises went, it would be a nice one, she decided. "I'd like to go," she merely re-iterated, pausing to look at one of the fragments of pottery in a display case, still smiling to herself.

"We'll figure something out." he said with a grin. "Oh, and did I mention that I've decided to talk to Moira? I want to see where the state of the art is in fast-growing human tissues and neural grafting." he said quietly.

She went still for a moment, not seeing the shard of pottery she'd been looking at all of a sudden. Straightening up, Alison stepped closer to him, the faint worry his words had sparked concealed neatly behind a faintly interrogative expression. "This is because of the talk we had when we were at the Madroxes?"

"That's part of it, yes." he admitted. "And part of it is my own determination. You deserve better. I deserve better. And if there is a chance that I can be whole, well, then I should take it. Don't you agree?" he said with a grin. "Or if they can get cybernetics to wire into the central nervous system in a more natural way - then I could be redesigned, rebuilt to accommodate the new interfaces."

Part of it being for his own sake. It did something to keep her worry from become something more intense, but didn't make it fade away, though she couldn't argue with him if he was doing this for himself as well. "No matter how it turns out..." she trailed off, though her voice was firm and she reached out, sliding her hand in his. "It won't change this." A slight squeeze of her hand, and she smiled just a bit - the worry likely showing through to a certain extent.

"There's nothing to worry about. This is a long-term process we're talking about here. And besides, I think you'll admit to wanting a bit more organics, something more sensitive, more able to feel. Whether that's organic or synthetic, I really don't think you can argue with the goal." he grinned.

She took a deep breath, not letting go of his hand although she did tilt her head to the side just a touch, to make sure that Miles was still paying attention to the Storyteller. The woman's voice kept going on the other side of the room, she and Miles apparently not paying attention to their conversation. "I just don't want the process to hurt you if it fails. Nothing is worth that." But no matter what happened, she wasn't planning on going anywhere.

Haroun shrugged. "It would hurt more to not explore every avenue, to investigate any possibility. I seem to recall someone saying that the inequities were preying on her, no?" he said with a small, amused smile. "This is my way of trying to address them." He then leaned closer to Alison, so he could whisper into her ear. "And we still haven't found the time yet to explore that inequality fully. I'd like to - do you?"

She couldn't argue with him on this, even though the thought that she might have sparked this through her own clumsiness in the matter left her feeling more than a little uneasy. But she couldn't contest what he wanted, only be there and hope things turned out for the best for his sake. Leaning forward just a touch, she smiled a bit at his words. "I woul-" she paused at that, the sudden silence in the room catching her attention more than a little. Looking over to the side slowly revealed the old woman still in her chair, looking immensely amused, even as Miles had both hands clapped over his eyes in a classic "ew, adults being ooky" gesture.

Haroun glanced over to Miles and sighed. Then he looked over to the old woman and smiled at her. "Well, I think storytime is over." he said with a grin, walking over to the old woman and to Miles. "Thank you for your stories." he told her, meaning every word of it. "And did you thank her for her time, young man?" he asked Miles severely. He tended to lapse in his behaviors, and Haroun was somewhat determined to make sure that he did what he could to encourage Miles to be correct.

There was a moment of silence, Miles looking up at Haroun gravely. "Yes, Miles did. The lady is very nice." Alison watched the interplay without saying a word, head tilted to the side a touch and a pensive expression on her face. There would be some sorting out going on, she realized - that Haroun was trying to do this left her with mingled feelings she'd have to sort out carefully, and soon. But for now there seemed to be some sort of give and take going that didn't need nor want her intervention, so she kept her peace.

"Well then, looks like we're ready to go." She made note of the small gift shop on the side of the room, pondering wandering back the next day perhaps. She was willing to bet that any place with a storyteller taking care of it would have a few books of children's tales on hand. She reached out, offering her hand to Miles who took it promptly, even as he offered the old woman a  smile and a small wave of goodbye.

Haroun followed the two of them outside, then paused and smiled. Nearby he could smell the indescribably wonderful smell of alcohol brewing. Seems that there was a distillery nearby, and he itched to take the tour. But, he reminded himself sternly, alcohol was forbidden to ones such as him, and in any case, a distillery was no place to bring a small boy.

Sighing, Haroun looked over to Alison and Miles. "Any other plans for today?" he asked the two of them pleasantly. "I don't know about the two of you, but it's getting close to lunchtime, and I could use a bite to eat. How about you?"

Miles' reaction was instantaneous, food always being a good thing as far as he was concerned - features brightening slightly at the thought, though he glanced at Alison to see what she would say.

"Moira said something about a weaving place, for tartans," Alison pondered, lips quirking a bit at them both - Haroun looking as though he hadn't been seriously tempted by something or other a moment ago, Miles as though it'd be fine with him if they didn't go eat. "And there's the distillery as well - but food first sounds good." She looked down at Miles and tugged on his hand lightly. "Would you rather go back to the castle and hang out with the other kids for the afternoon, or tag along? Yes, after we eat," she added with a chuckle. A cheerful 'Yes, thank you!' settled that matter neatly and Alison grinned at Haroun, raising an eyebrow at him to see if he had any preferences as to where they might go for lunch.

Haroun grinned and shrugged. "I'm sure that our lovely storyteller should be able to recommend a place for some tourists like us to get an authentic bite to eat." he said. "Miles, why don't you go back in and ask her nicely?" he suggested.

Another long look and then Miles nodded, though Alison followed as he walked back towards the door and after patting him gently on the shoulder, stood in the open doorway, keeping him well within her sight at all times. A second later though, Miles head popped out from between the doorframe and Alison's jean-clad leg, and grinned up impishly at Haroun.

"Haroun did not say please!" And without waiting for a response, Miles darted back inside, scrambling towards the museum owner and out of sight. A faint chuckle and Alison leaned in the doorframe, granting Haroun an amused and fond look. "Now that you had coming."

Haroun scowled at the doorframe that Miles just disappeared through, but let Alison's comments pass.