Albany, New York
April 1920

It was a warm evening for this time of year, and Washington Park was a pleasant place to pass the time. Situated just across State street and the townhouse where Rose lived with her father, it was close enough that he didn’t adamantly object to her going there. Rose walked along the path and kicked at the gravel, anything to slow her return home. Nothing much there, just a distant father in his library, the maid, the cook and the butler. The kicking motion brought her pleated skirt into view and she looked down at the grass stains. She was wearing her tennis clothes. A light blue skirt down nearly to her ankles, white middy top with her sleeves rolled, and a straw hat. The stains wouldn’t get her too much of an earful since they were a regular occurance when she played. Besides, she had been helping with and doing her own laundry since the war, why couldn’t she continue on? No one in society would know.

Swishing her wooden tennis racket over a nearby bush, she hummed ‘Swanee’ as she turned down a path she had never gone down before. She had time to explore before dinner. Rose’s mind wandered down the path it usually did when she didn’t want to go home. Where could she go so she wouldn’t have to go home? Perhaps St. Joseph’s College for Women wouldn’t be too bad. She could get a job. She wrinkled her nose. Where could she work that was exciting? And modern.

She remembered her mother then and came to a stop on the path. Gripping her tennis racket, she took a deep breath and let her shoulders drop as she exhaled. Those memories didn’t make her cry anymore, for which she was grateful. Father never tolerated those emotional outbursts. Besides, she would much rather be happy, mother would want her to be happy and maybe a little silly. Lifting her chin, Rose continued down the path.

Weeds and grass were encroaching on the gravel the farther along she went. The shadows lengthened, and the sounds from the surrounding park dampened under the trees. Glancing about, she confirmed that she was alone before brandishing her tennis racket. Intrigued, Rose pressed on, feeling the tingle of excitement as she imagined herself in one of Robert Louis Stevenson’s novels. ”Have at thee!” she said quietly, swashing the racket.

Rose heard something then. At first she thought it was a particularly noisy machine going down a nearby road. But that wasn’t quite right. Turning on the spot, she searched the overgrown garden and yelped when a howling gust of wind came from nowhere, blasting her so forcefully that she stumbled back. Alarm and surprise gripped her then and she turned to run back the way she came, but another gale buffeted her the other way. Holding her hat down with one hand, she held her racket in the other and crouched down to minimize the effect the wind was having on her. Squinting through the dusty wind, she could only hear the wailing of the turbulent air as it whirled around her.

And a moment later, it was over. Rose slowly lifted her head in astonishment. Everything was quiet, and still. Sitting on the path, she heard something behind her and turned to look.

Albany, New York
April 2020

"Man, this quarantine shit really blows," grumbled Ian as he painstakingly typed at his laptop, one finger, one letter at a time. He spared a hand to give himself a sip of coffee that had to be lukewarm by this point, and went back to pecking away.

Noah glared at his roommate and said nothing, trying to concentrate on his own homework. 50 thumbnails for a screen-printing project? It was ridiculous! Noah had run out of ideas at 20, and was now doodling with random shapes and swirls in a futile attempt to b.s. the rest of them. Maybe if he got away from his most odious roommate, he could concentrate. They had been cooped up in their apartment for days. Noah's part-time job in the shipping department of a bookstore had been put on hold, because it was non-essential. Their roommate who worked part-time at the grocery store brought home all their essentials. No excuse to go outside.

But when Ian started digging up his own nostrils, Noah couldn't take it. He stormed to the bathroom they all shared and snatched up a medical mask his grocery clerk roommate had abandoned there because it had a small rip. Shoving it against his face, he decided he would chance it. He paused a moment to check his reflection. You couldn't tell the mask was compromised. He looked like a guy taking every precaution. He plucked at his hair, trying to pat the blue and red colored bits into a more pleasing arrangement. The roots were growing in black, almost an inch now, and it annoyed him mightily. But he couldn't go to the salon and get them done. Salons were non-essential.

Sketchbook and pencils in hand, he darted out the door before anyone could call him back, and took off at a jog toward the park. He would get back in time for the online meetup at six. University at Albany had gone all digital to keep its students safe during the pandemic. Noah was going mad. He needed solitude! He hadn't been getting his alone-time to decompress at all, and the stress was making him constantly nauseous. He needed at least an hour before bed. Well, he would make up for it a little today. Three hours alone in the park. No one would be out, he was pretty sure of it. And if they saw him, they would stay well away. Social isolation, after all. If Noah wasn't in an apartment living situation, he would be absolutely fine with it. A hiatus from the pressures of being social; he longed for it. He longed for just a small, close friend group. People who were like him and he didn't mind hanging out with. People he could trust, who didn't expect more than he could give. He didn't trust his current roommates at all.

Mom kept saying that he would find friends soon. She talked about the 'fun' she'd had when she had gone to college. Well, Noah didn't want that kind of fun, or those kinds of friends. What he wanted was very specific, and he wasn't finding it anywhere.

But even walking alone down a mostly deserted street was lifting his spirits. His eyebrow piercing became itchy when the sun hit it, and he scratched at it idly, allowing himself a small, relieved smile. If he couldn't have close companionship, he preferred to just be alone. He cut across a couple of streets and headed straight for the thickly wooded area of Washington Park. It was the quietest part of the park, though everything was currently pretty quiet. He headed that way because it was familiar. Ideas were already starting to flow. When he got there, he'd find that stump that was cut at a perfect drafting angle...

Scurrying down the path, lost in thought, Noah failed to notice the wind picking up until a huge gust nearly knocked him on his face. He hunched his shoulders, put his head down, and kept walking, letting the wind push him onward. Man, the wind was nuts! It was going to be hard to draw if this kept up--

A bone deep, savage cold suddenly, literally, froze him in his tracks. His eyes were half-closed against the wind, and he could not move them. He felt his arms and legs flash to numbness as a bright light blinded him. A moment later, the gravel path appeared again before him, and Noah sank to his knees, ice-coated skinny jeans crackling. Agonizing goosebumps erupted over every inch of him. There was a girl standing a few feet in front of him. He blinked once at her, the ice coating his eyelashes clinking softly, but he barely registered her presence.

His body sent panicked instructions to his brain to shut down immediately pending an investigation into the extent of the damage. As unconsciousness claimed him and he toppled forward, Noah gasped in a breath and had time for a single exhaled word.

"Fuck."

Mouth agape, Rose cringed when the stranger hit the gravel. She danced from foot to foot for a moment in indecision, his appearance extremely confusing. Where had he come from? Her hands raised, she hurried over to his side and knelt down, putting the racket on the grass. Gripping him by the shoulder, she pushed until she had rolled him over onto his back. His clothes, hair, mask and a funny ring on his eyebrow brought her up short, "What..?" she whispered, more to herself than to him.

The wind had torn her ringlets free of their pins, so she brushed her dark hair back over her shoulder before leaning over him curiously. He was still breathing, his chest was moving. Rose bit her lip, and glanced around again. There was no one else in sight. Tilting her head to the side, she slowly reached out to touch the color in his hair. She'd never seen these colors like this before, especially on a man. Her attention shifted to the ring on his eyebrow. She couldn't help but wrinkle her nose in a slight grimace. Who would do that? Shaking her head, she reached over to gently tug at the mask covering the lower half of his face.

Once the flimsy thing came free of his ears, she reached out and started patting his face, "Hello? Can you hear me?" she said, "Sir?
This message was last edited by the player at 22:43, Sun 12 Apr 2020.

The ice on him was melting rapidly in the warm spring air. After a few moments, his eyes fluttered open. He immediately started shivering, his hands clenching into fists.

"Wh-what ha-ha-happened?" he managed to croak out through chattering teeth. His mind whirled and his limbs still felt tingly and numb. Freak weather? Flash freeze? It figured. Maybe this girl saw what it was. He couldn't see her clearly; water was running into his eyes and his vision was blurry and smeared.

Rose pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it into his hand, "I was hoping you could tell me. You're the one who popped out onto the path." she looked him up and down warily, sitting back on her heels, "Are you a grifter or something?" she reached back for her tennis racket while keeping an eye on him.

Noah wanted to sit up, but he felt too stiff. As he thawed, pain was starting to blossom all over. He raised a shaking hand to clear his eyes. "A-a-a wh-what?" Was this girl a homeless person? She talked so strangely.

"A grifter." she said again, as if that was an explanation. Perhaps he hadn't heard her, "Who else would dress like that? Unless you're a dewdropper." she gripped her tennis racket and stood up, pointing the sports equipment at him and straightening her straw hat, "I will not be tricked, so skip the act, and tell me who you are." she was proud of herself, she sounded more confident than she thought.

Although, a part of her ached. He looked so cold, and stiff. Her racket faltered slightly and she brought her eyebrows together with a small frown.

Dashing the water away from his eyes, Noah got his first good look at this weird girl. She must be cos-playing or appearing in a play or something, because she looked straight out of the 1920s. "I-I honsestly h-have n-n-no idea wh-what you're t-talking about." As he spoke, he managed to pull himself into a sitting position and started rubbing his arms. Ugh, he ached all over. The cold felt stuck in his bones. "I res-s-s-spect that y-you're so devoted t-to your ch-character, though," he said, eyeing her old fashioned clothes.

Rose frowned at him in confusion, "My character?" she let her racket fall to her side and placed her other hand on her hip, her foot tapping while she studied him. He really looked lost and out of place. Perhaps she could give him a blanket and a sandwich, father wouldn't notice. She firmly tapped her foot one last time, "You still have not answered my question. Who are you? Why are you dressed like that?"

"D-dressed like what?" he asked distractedly, peering up at the sky. No clouds, and the freaky wind was gone. "A college s-student? 'Cause that's what I am. A-aren't you?" He looked at her again. Albany had something like ten colleges, so most of the people Noah met who were his age were students. But maybe she was just a local. A weird one. He looked around for his sketchbook; he must have dropped it.

Rose fidgeted and wrung the handle of her racket, "Not yet." she scowled and shook her finger at him, "You shouldn't talk to me that way. I was going to offer you a sandwich." she took a few steps back down the path, "But now, I think that would be unwise. I'm going home."

Lifting her chin, Rose turned to retreat but stopped so she wouldn't step on the wide book that was on the ground before her. Stooping, she picked it up and tucked her racket under her arm so she could hold it. Curiously, she opened it.

The inside was filled with doodles and drawings, organic and detailed. Some pages were filled with tiny boxes, each with a small, rough drawing inside. Some were full-page creations, colored with delicate hues.

Still sitting on the ground behind her, still shivering occasionally, Noah was caught up with her sandwich offer. "A sandwich?" he mumbled, confused, still casting about for his sketchbook. He did find his mask. Then something occured to him. "Why aren't you wearing a mask?" he asked, glancing at her. A nasty shock coursed through him when he saw she was looking at his drawings. "Hey!" he shouted, louder than he meant to. He started fumbling to his feet. "That's mine!"

Rose closed the book as he got to his feet, bristling at the volume of his shout, "Excuse me." she offered in apology, somewhat half-heartily. She held the book out to him and tried to conceal her surprise at how tall he was when standing, "I think they're very good." she said, shrugging a shoulder in a careless sort of way. "In response to your question, I'm not wearing a mask, because the influenza outbreak has been over for nearly a year."

Brushing her hair back, Rose swallowed past the lump in her throat, "If you're sick, you should get to the hospital." she took a cautionary step away from him.

He took his sketchbook back, careful not to snatch it. "Influenza? It's pretty bad in the States right now if that's what you mean. Not the pandemic the world is freaking out about though. You been living under a rock or something? And I'm not sick." He should put his mask back on, but he would have to touch his face to do it. He'd just wash his hands thoroughly when he got home. He shivered; he was dripping wet from the weird weather. Brushing his damp hair away from his forehead then cursing because he had already touched his face, he swallowed nervously as he looked at the girl. She was weird, but in a compelling way. He normally would have taken off minutes ago to do his homework in solitude, but something about the way she carried herself intrigued him. He could honestly say he had never met anyone like her. "Hey, what's your name?"

Taken aback slightly by the way he asked for her name, Rose frowned at him. He couldn't have come from a very high place if he thought that sort of introduction was polite. However, coming from 'new money' herself, she often felt the sting of society and their lack of acceptance. Sympathizing with him, and how she felt whenever she was looked down on for slip-ups in social gatherings, she smiled and extended her hand, "Miss Rose Walsh. It is a great pleasure to know you, Mr-?" she prompted gently, tilting her head to the side in anticipation of the acquaintance.

He couldn't help but smile at the way she spoke. She was really into her roleplay. He could respect that. "Noah. Noah Killian. You said you were going to school soon, right? What's your major gonna be?"

Rose averted her gaze and let her hand fall, "Mr. Killian, this subject is difficult to discuss. My father hasn't given his permission for me to go, and I haven't gotten a job to pay for tuition. Forty dollars! Can you believe it?" she started tapping her foot again in agitation, shaking her head and placing her hand on her hip. "He so Victorian in his thinking. It is so frustrating." harrumphing in an unladylike manner, she suddenly froze, "Oh applesauce!" she looked at Noah and then the sky, "Do you have the time? I can't be late for dinner."

The time and her situation started coming back and she looked at her new acquaintance. His hair, the eyebrow ring, his clothes! What was she doing!?

He couldn't help it. Noah burst into laughter. She was amazing! "A-a-applesauce!" he repeated, gasping with mirth. "Are you part of a local roleplay group or something? You're great!" Just in case she was serious about needing to know what time it was, he pulled his phone out. "Or, you're really a theater major! Is that it?" He smiled at her, expecting her to break character, even just a little, to answer his question. Maybe she had a business card he could have. Was Rose even her real name?

Why did his smile have to be nice? Rose looked at him without a flicker in her confused expression, her gaze moving from his face to the rectangular object in his hand. She felt a prickle of fear and took a cautious step back, asking slowly, "What is that?" she pointed a cautious finger at the phone before pulling her hand back and holding her tennis racket tightly.

His smile froze, and wilted a little. Why was she still in character? Weird. "It's, uh, my phone." Maybe she meant the model? "A Galaxy A10E. And it's--" he glanced at the screen, and was surprised to see he had no service. Also weird. "Um. Sorry. It's four forty-eight."

"A phone? You mean telephone?" Rose shook her head, "You must be losing your mind." she turned and started walking briskly down the path, saying over her shoulder, "Thank you, for the time Mr. Killian, but I really must be going." she still had enough time to get home and change for dinner. Thankfully, there were no guests this evening, so if she ate quickly, she could be excused from her father's presence. There was no way she was telling him about this boy in the park.

He watched her go in silence. Losing his mind? More like the other way around. He stood for a moment in indecision; stay in the park to do his homework, or head back to his apartment? Well, he was still dripping wet and chilled. He ached all over. Turning to look down the path, he expected to see the stump he liked to sit at, the one cut at the perfect angle. Instead, there was a young sapling there. Maybe... he had taken the wrong path. Confused, he gathered up his fallen pencils.

He would go home. His brain was addled. He could finish his homework tomorrow. He started following the girl to the street. He would take a hot shower and go to bed early. Watch Netflix with his headphones on. Order Postmates. Fast food? Pasta? Mm.

He thought these cozy thoughts until he stepped out of the wooded area and within sight of the street. Then he froze, and the only sound in his mind was a high-pitched whine of disbelieving panic.

Model T Fords were parked along the road ahead, a few being driven by people who weaved in and out with no regards to right sides or right of ways. The sound of an electric trolley rolling by a few streets over clanged over some of the other noises around the park. Horses hooves ringing against the pavement. Children calling out to each other in their games.

Tall, close and differently colored apartments lined State street. Manicured lawns and stately trees gave charm and accent to the neighborhood. Clean laundry flapped in the late afternoon breeze.

The sky was blue, scattered with white clouds and singing birds.

Rose was puzzling over the strange encounter as she cut across an expanse of grass. Her eyebrows and lips puckered together in thought. Who was that man? Intriguing. Something tugged at her gut and she stopped, not sure why. Hesitating a moment, she looked back over her shoulder and saw Noah. He was standing as still as stone with the most extraordinary expression on his face. Turning slightly, she craned her head at him her eyebrows raising in question.

She looked... right out... of the 20s... because she was... he was...

No. Impossible. Noah's body began trembling as his sketchbook and pencils fell from nerveless fingers. His mind and body clashed as he tried to absorb what he was seeing. What his mind simply could not accept. He turned desperately away and stared at the bushes, breathing hard. Then screwed up his courage and looked back. The scene had not changed.

Noah felt something inside him straining under enormous pressure, like it was about to break. His mind? His soul? Whatever it was was making black spots dance before his eyes. He leaned over and heaved his lunch out all over the beautiful green grass. He sank to his knees and heaved again, gasping and shaking.

He wasn't in his Albany. That cold flash; something had happened to him. But denial was comforting; his brain babbled that he was dreaming. He was dreaming, somehow. But he had never, ever had a dream like this.

Almost retching herself at the sight of him losing his lunch, Rose took a fortifying breath before hurrying back across the grass and stooping to place a hand on his shaking shoulder, "Mr Killian? Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked, patting him gently, "If you can walk to my home, we could call a doctor." she offered, willing to brave her father's displeasure in order to get Noah help.

Noah wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, tears from throwing up leaking from his eyes. He looked up at her, his face frightened and imploring. He opened his mouth to speak, but then lost his nerve. He closed his eyes and swallowed, then tried again. Asking this question was very, very hard.

"Wh-what... year... is it?" he finally whispered.

Rose didn't answer for a few moments. Was he trying to trick her? Was this some sort of joke? She glanced around, as if she would see pranking college boys snickering in the bushes. Nope. No one. He sounded sincere. Half of what he had said earlier during their conversation she hadn't understood, but she felt like she could trust him. As strange as it seemed, she did trust him. He wasn't trying to play her for a fool. Tucking her skirt under her knees as she crouched down beside Noah, she watched him carefully as she said, "1920."

He flinched. "Really..? Are you sure?" He dug in his pocket for his phone, unlocking it with facial recognition. He opened his calendar app. Across the top of the bright screen in black letters it read, 'April 2020'. He looked up at her again, swallowing hard against his nausea, his cheeks pale. "You're absolutely sure?"

Rose snatched her hands away from him the moment the screen lit up, stifling a squeak. When he looked at her again, his face drawn, her own eyes were wide and fearful, "Yes. I'm sure." her own mind was reeling at the possibility that this man was from... she couldn't finish that thought. She was going to be late to dinner now for sure.

He blinked slowly at her. "Oh." He sat back on his heels as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. And then, Noah seemed to go away. He sat silently, eyes vacantly staring straight ahead. A tear fell now and then, but otherwise he seemed frozen.

Kneeling next to him, Rose reached out to pat his hand. It was like ice, and clammy. Whatever was happening, it was not good. Keeping her hand on his, Rose made a series of decisions. For one thing, she was going to help him. It would mean trouble, a lot of it. She could feel it in her bones. Her mind was racing and it put the question of where he was from in the back, she would have to work it out later. Right now, he was in obvious distress.

An idea hit her. It was a Thursday evening, and her father almost always stepped out to go 'visit' his friends. She knew that was when he would go to a quiet speakeasy and have a few drinks. He would be gone for a few hours or so after dinner. Until then, she could sneak Noah into the basement through the root cellar door at the back of the house. Once her father was gone, she could attend to Mr. Killian in a more controlled environment. They could figure things out then.

Rubbing his hand, she turned her attention back to him and asked, "Mr. Killian, would you be comfortable coming with me? I feel that I should keep an eye on you until we can get you back home." she paused and grimaced slightly, "Of course, due to your current appearance, it would be better in the long run if we kept you out of sight. My house has a basement, and I'll bring you something to eat after.. putting you down there. Once my father goes out for the evening, we can, figure this all out."

Noah said nothing, did nothing. It was all he could do to breathe. In. Out. In. Out... 1920... 1920... In. Out.

His brain would not wrap around what his eyes were telling him. Heat was starting to crawl up the back of his neck, his ears. Everywhere else was as cold as ice. Breathe. In. Out. In...

A few of Rose's words stuck with him. "..get you back home." Home? He wanted to call his mom. She was in Florida with dad. But he had no service. He couldn't marshal the will to dig his phone back out anyway. More black spots started swirling... oh, he had stopped. Out. In. Out. In.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:31, Fri 24 Apr 2020.

Anxiety levels rising, Rose sidled next to Noah. She took his left arm up and around her shoulders, and wrapped her right arm around his back. With a minute or so of fumbling, she managed to tuck his sketchbook under her arm before she started to haul him to his feet. Teeth clenched, she strained. He was heavy.

"On your feet." she said finally, once they were both standing, "Now, just help me as much as you can." she said starting forward down the path. Ahead of them, trees scattered the park, and the road was beyond that. It being so close to dinner time, the road was fairly quiet. Rose was grateful for that, she didn't know how she was going to explain this. The less eyes the better. Someone might think she was helping an escaped criminal. ..Was she?

Rose kept them close to the trees until they reached the road. One last model-T rumbled by before she hurried them both across the street. Number 27, her house, thankfully wasn't more than a few houses down. She was panting now, and his arm on the back of her neck was still cold, "Just around the back now." she said softly, pausing at the corner of the lot to check the windows. No sign of lookers yet, she might be able to talk her way out of being tardy. She urged him down the side of the house, ducking to avoid more windows.

Noah followed where she led, his sharpied Converse slapping the pavement when he stumbled. He couldn't have resisted her if he'd tried. As it was, he was glad to surrender control. The heat clamped about the back of his head was throbbing now, and the cold everywhere else did nothing to dull the aches he still felt. He was breathing hard, and moving was making it easier to remember to breathe.

His brain still skirted around what he was seeing; how every trace of the world he knew was vanished. All he could think of was that he had no service. No service, so he couldn't call home.

She led him around to the back of the house and stopped when she saw the trap door down to the basement. She faltered, not knowing how she could open and close it without making too much noise. Perhaps he could stay out here? But he was so cold and unresponsive, she didn't want to leave him out in the open. She might have to. She shifted from foot to foot nervously, scrambling for an idea. It didn't help that her brain wanted to flood her with thoughts like; what are you doing? Did you see him? Who is he? He could be crazy! He could be a criminal! With hair like that, he can't be stable! What are you doing?!

"My room is upstairs." she heard herself saying, her heart trusting him before her head, "Can you follow me up there? Quietly?" she asked, another plan forming. If they could get up the stairs, she could put him in her room comfortably and pretend that she lost track of time reading.

"O..Okay," Noah croaked. He didn't wonder why she was helping him. She had said something about getting him home. He would go with her until his brain started working again.

Rose nodded to him and said a silent prayer that cook was in the kitchen and wouldn't come out into the hallway. The backstairs were narrow, not like the large staircase at the front of the house, and weren't meant for company. Slowly, Rose turned the knob and peeked into the hallway. The coast was clear. Tucking the sketchbook under her arm, she grabbed Noah's hand to lead him along. They slipped in and she closed the door, pausing to listen. From here, she could almost see to the front of the house. The kitchen, pantry and washroom were back here. The receiving front hall was around the bend and the back of the large stair case. She could hear cook in the kitchen, the radio was on. Good.

On her toes, she kept a firm grip on Noah's hand and started ascending the stairs.

Noah squeezed his eyes shut. He wished he could close his ears. He didn't want to see this place. It was so... wrong. He climbed behind Rose, tripping a little on the narrow stairs.

At the top of the stairs, Rose peered around the corner. The hallway was empty, the doors to the water closet and the guest rooms were closed. Her bedroom was around the corner to her right, opposite her father's room to the left. Pretty house ferns sat on side tables under large mirrors and art work on the walls. Dark wood floors were accented with designed carpets, and dainty light fixtures hung from the ceiling.

Gently shushing, Rose lead Noah down the hall and quickly tugged him to the right and into her bedroom. It was cozy and simple. Lamp lit vanity, wardrobe, chair, bookcase and poster bed. A few books were scattered around, and to her embarrassment, her hose and robe. Closing the door softly, she finally released him and hurried to scoop up her discarded clothes, "Take a seat Mr Killian, I'll get you a blanket." opening her wardrobe, she threw in her stockings and pulled out a plain evening dress.

Noah just stood and trembled, gazing at all the old fashioned furniture. Was this real? He tentatively reached out and touched one of the posts on the bed. The carved wood was cool and smooth to the touch. He jerked his hand back. It was real, but... he groaned, raising his hands to hold his head. This place even smelled wrong.

"Not... this is not..." his voice hitched as his breathing quickened again. "Not..." he crouched and curled in on himself, covering his face with his arms.

Setting his sketchbook on her dresser, she threw her dress onto the bed. Pausing, Rose looked down at the boy in her room. In her room! Moved to comfort him, she stepped around and crouched down next to him, putting one hand on his arm, and the other on his shoulder, "Mr Killian, I'm so sorry. If there had been someone else that could have helped you, I'm sure you would be in a better situation. My father being who he is, I really couldn't have helped you any other way. As soon as I can, I'll excuse myself from the table and with my father being none the wiser, I'll be able to help you get home." she tried to lift the pitch of her voice to make that last part sound easy and no trouble at all.

At that moment, Rose heard footsteps in the hallway. Her heart jumped up into her throat and she squeaked. The footsteps stopped at her door and there was a knock, "Ms Walsh?" It was cook, Mrs Martin.

"Coming." Rose called nervously. She looked down at Noah before moving to the door, she felt sick. Perking up slightly, she got an idea. Tossing off her hat, she slumped and opened the door a few inches, not enough for the wiry woman to see into her bedroom. Mrs Martin was in her late forties, and had been cooking for the Walsh family since the war. They hadn't needed a cook, but Rose's mother wanted to employ whoever she could, and Mrs Martin had stayed after Mr. Walsh had returned home. Her blonde hair was turning white, and was always pulled into a loose gibson girl hairdo that was out of style, "My apologies, Mrs Martin, I'm not feeling well." she said, putting a slightly pained note to her voice in an attempt to sound ill, "I'd prefer to stay in bed this evening, if you could tell my father for me."

Mrs Martin huffed and shook her head, "Dear girl, your place is set and your father is waiting. You're not even dressed!"

"Mrs Martin, I'm not feeling well." Rose said again, trying to hide her irritation at the dismissal of her false explanation, "I can't come down. I came home from the park early and fell asleep. I hoped the rest would help me recover, but I still don't think I can come down to dinner. Please let me sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow." she said gently, moving to close the door.

"Well, Ms Walsh, I'll leave a plate in the kitchen for you. Have a good night, dear." Mrs Martin patted her arm before turning and going back down the hall.

Rose closed the door with an explosive exhale and leaned back against it, a nervous giggle escaping her at her good luck. From her place at the door, she looked back to Noah and frowned in worry, what to do now?

Noah was watching her from where he crouched, frowning, tears leaking slowly down his face. He looked miserable. Shaking, pale, and wide-eyed.
"H-how.. could you get m-me home?" he asked quietly, understanding that she was hiding him. "If I'm in... oh, god... 1920..." he moaned.

Rose pushed herself from the door and crossed to her bed. She grabbed the quilted blanket folded at its base and turned to Noah, "Here." she shook the blanket out and wrapped it around him, "Sit down." she tried to lift and guide him to the rocking chair in the corner of her room, "Tell me where you live. My father has a model-T that I can drive, we could even get you home tonight if it's not far." she felt like she was rambling, but her mind was still rebelling against the idea that he wasn't from her Albany. Her Albany? His circumstances were incredible, as was his appearance and speech, "We could call first..." she trailed off, suddenly feeling cold. Letting him go to sit if he desired, she sat down at her vanity. Her hands in her lap, she shivered and slumped forward to pinch the bridge of her nose, "I think.. I don't know..." she mumbled, closing her eyes tightly while her thoughts whirled around the conclusion she didn't dare vocalize.

A Model-T? Shit. That won't help me get home. Noah carefully lowered himself into the rocking chair. It was too short for him, making his knees stick out. If felt spindly and fragile, but it still held him up. He gave a shuddering sigh as Rose spoke. "I live..." he swallowed hard against the nausea that threatened him again. "My apartment... is in 2020. My parents are in 2020. My school... 2020." Wrapping his arms around his middle, Noah leaned forward, shoulders slumping. "My laptop... my headache meds... my books, my movies... all a hundred years away." His eyes were starting to glaze over again. That creeping heat started to pulse across the back of his neck and head. He felt it spreading to his temples, and knew that a legendary headache was on its way if he didn't calm down.

Rose rubbed her eyes furiously before looking hard at Noah, her words coming out in halting rhythm, "How? How did.. you?" she held up a hand as if to stop herself from talking, and took a deep breath. She shook her head a few times, her heart thumping loudly. She swallowed, cleared her throat and asked, "2020? That's... impossible."

"I know!" he said in a desperate whine. "But... I'm..." he spread shaking hands helplessly. "If this isn't all some sick prank... that's going on way too long, the likes of which I've never seen. Or a dream or hallucination. Or..." he shook his head and groaned, a nauseating gurgle burping up from his throat. He covered his mouth and muttered through his fingers, "Oh god. Oh god..." As tears still dripped.

He had never, ever been in this kind of distress. If this was someone's idea of a joke, he was going to sue the hell out of them.

For a moment, Rose scrambled. There was a boy in her room. His hair was red and blue, he had a ring in his eyebrow, his clothes were strange, and she didn't understand a lot of the words he used. Foremost, he was clearly distraught, and she wasn't sure how to comfort him. Also, she had never seen a grown man cry in her life, and felt oddly perplexed by the experience. The only semi-steady man in her life was her father and she only saw indifference and anger from him. She knew how to handle those emotions. But a frightened boy?

"Uh.." she got to her feet and stood for a moment, her hands closing and opening nervously, "Mr. Killian, I hope this doesn't seem too forward, but-" she stooped down and wrapped her arms around him in a firm but gentle embrace, "I'll help you." she assured, having no idea how.

For just a flash of a moment, Noah forgot himself and thought about what it must be like for this girl, still comfortably in her own time, but dealing with someone who clearly wasn't. A stranger who must look absolutely nuts to her. And her first instinct was to help him. Noah didn't want to think about how he didn't even know how he had gotten here, let alone the impossibility of making it happen again. So he hugged Rose back, just grateful that a good person was helping him.

"Thank you." He spoke from his heart, still crying. He couldn't seem to make himself stop.

With a squeeze, Rose released him and re-seated herself at the vanity. Taking a deep breath, she tried to organize her thoughts as she opened one of the little drawers. She took out a clean handkerchief and passed it to Noah, "Here. It'll be okay." she said, managing a smile.

"Now. I'm not going to pretend that I have any idea of how you appeared on the path today. I do remember a strong wind, and a loud noise. What do you remember?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap and settling in to listen.

"Cold," Noah muttered, drying his cheeks. He expected the handkerchief to smell old, like something his grandma had would. But it didn't. It smelled of clean cotton, with a hint of perfume. It calmed him, letting him think back more clearly. "There was wind and then... cold, so cold I couldn't move." He blew his nose. "There was a flash, then, next thing... I was... on the path."

Rose frowned thoughtfully and quirked her mouth to the side, "An accident then?" she murmured, brushing her hair back, "Were you in the park in.. your time? I mean, is it still a park in... 2020?" she asked, awkwardly in her opinion. She suddenly gasped and leaned forward to look at him intensely, "Tell me this.. Does the 19th Amendment pass? Do women get the right to vote?" she asked him in a rush, her mind suddenly lighting with questions. She held them in, not wanting to overwhelm either of them. But she had to ask that question.

"Um... yes, to both questions," he said, wanting to smile at her eagerness but feeling too down to actually do it. His temples had started to throb. He thought briefly about explaining feminism to her just to see how she reacted, but then thought better of it. Or wait; should he? Every time travel movie or show he had ever seen warned against messing with the past. But... those were all fiction. Who knew what would really happen? He thought of Steins' Gate. The world-line theory... that either he wouldn't change things enough to impact anything much, or he would make such a significant change that a whole new branch of time would split off and he would be in a different timeline that existed alongside the first. Or Looper, or Back to the Future? What if he made it so he was never born in the first place? Hell, if he really wanted, he could save up, buy a ticket to Germany and off Hitler before he left... leaves... his dopey artist stage.

As that particular train of thought trickled through Noah's mind, an ominous feeling caused him to shiver as goosebumps rioted over his skin. His color drained from pale to bone white. He derailed it frantically, but the full implications had touched at his awareness and he couldn't un-think it. He refused to even consider accepting a responsibility like that. But... 6 million people...

Whatever. He was making his headache worse. What mattered was that he was here, now, and he didn't know how to get back. So, whatever he did, he had to be prepared to live in the world that decision made. Not so much different from home in that respect, he tried to tell himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and thrust the whole frightening idea to the back of his mind. Just... live in the moment for now, okay? Maybe you can figure out how to get home.

Rising to her feet Rose paced as a wave of euphoria and relief passed through her. Things were actually going to change, all the work would mean something, and the sacrifices would pay off. She let out a shaky laugh and promised herself she would celebrate later. Right now, she was being selfish.

Watching his complexion change so rapidly and not for the better was almost nauseating. She checked the time by glancing at the clock on the side table. It was almost seven. There was a good chance that her father had finished supper and left for his drinks. If so, Mrs Martin would have gone home, and Mr Murphy as well if she was lucky. Sitting at the vanity, she unbuckled her shoes and kicked them off, "My apologies, you need some headache powder, and perhaps some food too." she went to her wardrobe and pulled out her cotton pajama set, "I'll be back in a few minutes. Is there anything more I can get for you?" she asked, wondering what sort of things hosts did for guests in his time.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:05, Fri 01 May 2020.

"Powder? What?" He dragged a hand over his face. "I'm not hungry. No food, please." Swallowing hard against his nausea, he grinned weakly. "But I would like some water."

His thoughts were slowing down. He felt like he was thinking through thick fog. He wanted to sleep, but oddly, was afraid to. What if he woke up and he was still here? That would be the end of his 'all a dream' theory.

Rose gave him a smile in return and nodded, "I'll be back soon. Excuse me."she slipped out and closed the door softly. She stood in the hall for a few seconds, giving herself time to digest her situation. It didn't work. Her mind still refused to confront the 'how' and the 'what now'. Shaking her head, she went to the water closet down the hall and went in. It only took her a few minutes to change into her pajamas. Nice cotton, pale pink and white stripes. So comfy.

Ready now, in case she was seen, she went down the stairs to the main floor. She didn't hear any radios, which meant Mrs Martin was gone home. From the entrance hall, she peeked into the dining room. "Rose."

Hiding a grimace, she turned around to face her father. Robert wasn't particularly tall, but he was broad and looked strong. Grey hair crowned him at the temples of his combed back dark hair. His heavy eyebrows were almost always drawn together in an impatient expression, going along with his square jaw and persistent frown. That was how he looked in this moment, dressed for the evening in an English cut suit, a cigarette in his hand.

"Papa." she said, turning around and folding her arms across her chest, "I'm sorry I missed dinner."

Robert rolled the cigarette between his thumb and finger, "Not feeling well?" he presented it as a question, but Rose felt that his tone marked it as a obligatory statement. So she stayed silent and waited, like she normally did, for him to excuse himself. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she had a boy up in her room at that very moment that made it seem like her father's deliberation took far too long. She fought the urge to tap her toes impatiently. "I was going to tell you at dinner, that John Baxter has requested to be added to your list of suitors. I gave my permission."

"What?" Rose nearly shouted, the news taking her completely by surprise. Of all the things that had happened this afternoon. As her mind flew in all directions at once, she could only stutter,  "J-John Baxter is no gentleman. He's.. he's a fop!" she did tap her toes now, agitated and unwilling to deal with this news now.

"Mr Baxter comes from a family of good means, and will be a lawyer like his father and brother." he said, putting the cigarette in his mouth, "He will come to call on you tomorrow evening at six sharp."

Rose grew angry and set her shoulders back, "I don't want to waste my time with that conceited cheat. How could you do that without talking to me first? she asked, her voice rising, "Anyway, I'm busy tomorrow. I have errands to run all day."

"And at six, you have a date with John Baxter." Robert said through ground teeth, his own temper flaring. Still taller than Rose, he stepped close and griped her upper arm tightly. Too tightly. Rose gasped and crumpled slightly, "That appointment you will keep, Rose." He gave her arm a squeeze before releasing her and turning without another word. He left through the front door, closing it behind him.

Rose stood there for a minute, holding her arm and fuming. She muttered some choice words under her breath, nearly quivering with her unspent anger. Turning on her heel, she stomped back into the kitchen and threw open a cupboard. She slammed a few things down onto a tea tray. Glasses of water, a few biscuits, and a bottle of headache powder. Climbing the stairs, she set the tray down in the hallway. One more place to go before returning to her bedroom. She went down to the end of the hall to the master bedroom. She didn't pause on her way to the dresser. She knew that her father hadn't worn quite a bit of his old clothes from before we left to fight. He couldn't throw them away either. Rose doubted he'd even notice that few bits and pieces were missing.

Scooping up some pajamas, pants, suspenders and a shirt, she closed the dresser drawers and left the way she came, not lingering to look at her mother's old vanity by the window. Retrieving the tea tray, she headed back to her bedroom, trying to put her father's words out of her mind.

When Rose returned, Noah was nodding. He roused himself when he saw her though, rubbing at his eyes. "So, um... I-I don't..." He paused to gather the words from the aching morass his mind was in. "I don't know anything about this time, other than the basics. I... I only studied the aesthetics, the famous illustrators. I also wanted to ask you, uh... should I, like... tell anyone? Like... scientists, or...? Hey, is Einstein still alive?" He was rambling, wasn't he? He made himself stop with an apologetic grin.

Glad to see that he seemed to be doing better, if only slightly, Rose closed the door and crossed the room to set the tray on the vanity. With Noah now available to take the focus of her thoughts, she felt her anger slip away. He had a nice smile. Holding the faded blue pajamas out to him she scrunched her face in thought, "I've heard his name before. He sure stirred things up during the eclipse last year. But.." she looked at him warily, "I think he lives in Germany..." clearing her throat, she shrugged and gave a shake of her head, "I don't know about telling anybody yet. Not unless we can't figure this out."

She sat down and grabbed the bottle of headache powder, "My father just puts this on his tongue and swallows it. I like to put it in water. Which would you prefer?"

Noah eyed the bottle warily, blinking blearily. "Can I see the ingredients list?" He had a vague memory of learning that heroin and opium were in medicines during this time. Was it this time? Or earlier? He was going to check just in case.

Rose handed the bottle over to him with a shrug. The label read; Goody's Headache Powders. 25 cents. Each powder contains aspirin in combination with 5 grs. phenacetin and caffeine. Goody's are effective for the relief of pain due to simple headaches, simple neuralgia, muscular aches and pains and headaches accompanying head colds.

She picked up a biscuit and nibbled while she pondered taking some powder herself. A fear had started to grip her inside, and she wondered at its source. At the same time, she needed to work out where she was going to put Noah for the night. It was out of the question to have him in her room until morning. If she put him in the guest room, she would have to get him up and out before anybody found him. That was probably her best chance.

"Twenty-five cents," he muttered with a chuckle. He carefully read the label; he didn't understand a few of the words, but it seemed safe enough. He reflexively reached for his phone to look up the unfamiliar words, but stopped with his hand cupping the shape of it in his pocket. He bit his lip, considering. Then he took it out, checked the battery -- 78% -- then deliberately turned it completely off. He needed to give more thought to how he would use it, and couldn't do that right now. So he would save the battery.

He slipped it back in his pocket as he asked Rose how much of the powder he should put on his tongue.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:07, Fri 07 May 2021.

Subtlety not being one of her strong suits, Rose craned her neck to watch him handle the phone. It glowed! And changed a colored picture when he touched it! Immeasurably curious, and a bit frightened, she cleared her throat after he stowed it away, picking up a teaspoon from the tray, "A scoop should be sufficient." she held the spoon out to him, "It tastes horrible." she cautioned, smiling.

"As long as it works," he mumbled, opening the bottle slowly and carefully. He was mostly recovered from the two horrible shocks his body had received today, but his fingers still felt thick and clumsy. He tapped some white powder into the spoon, trying not to think about how much it resembled cocaine or heroine -- it was basically just what was inside pills from his time, right? He handed the bottle back to Rose and picked up a glass of water from the tray, took a bracing breath, then stuck the spoon in his mouth.

His face scrunched into a look of disgust, eyes squeezed shut and nose wrinkled. He drank half the glass, but the acidic taste lingered. He stuck his tongue out. "Bleh!" A sense of doom settled over him suddenly. He got a lot of headaches. He was going to have to look for some better way to treat them.

Rose chuckled softly and stirred her own spoonful into her glass. She emptied it quickly, shuddering herself at the taste that lingered in the back of her throat. Grabbing another biscuit, she took a bite with a sigh, "We can return to the park tomorrow. Maybe that path will take you back." she spoke softly, full of questions and wondering if going to the park would do anything at all. It was the only thing she could think of though, and her thoughts were starting to slide together into a tired mush.

"I'll put you in the guest room tonight, but I'll have to wake you early. My father would call the police if you were found here like that." she glanced away, embarrassed at the potentially problematic situation she was placing him in. Then she smiled and shrugged, "But I'm sure I could get you out of here long before an copper arrives."

Noah was sitting with his eyes squeezed shut; he had just realized that trying to find a better headache cure was the least of his problems. And he wasn't planning on staying here long anyway... she was right, they had to check out the path. Maybe it would take him back. He opened his eyes, confused at something she had said. "Like what? Why would your dad- oh. Right." He smiled as he realized just how weird he must look to someone from the 20s, putting his glass down only a little shakily. "God, you're right! I must look like a crazy person. In my... in the other 20s, this is actually pretty low-key for a college student. In my graphic design class, there's this girl with piercings all down her nose and across both eyebrows. She wears this killer green lipstick to match the emerald in her tongue piercing. She's super nice." He reached for his sketchbook and flipped through it. "And super talented. She drew this." He pointed to a beautiful drawing of a human eye with glittery makeup and rainbow colors in the iris in the corner of one of his thumbnail pages. "She wanted to test out her new markers..." He looked up at Rose and trailed off.

Rose couldn't help herself. Her mouth was open and her eyes were wide with disbelief, glazed over as she attempted to conjure up an image of the girl he had just described. A second passed, and she shut her mouth. Only to open it again with a whispered question, "What?" that was directed at the universe in general. She held up a hand to Noah, imploring him with the gesture to give her a moment, her eyes now locked on the colorful picture on the paper.

After a few breaths, she smiled nervously and looked to him, "Green lipstick? Really?" she managed a soft chuckle, and folded her trembling hands in her lap. It was another moment before she cleared her throat and asked, "What are markers?"

Maybe I should take it easy with the future talk... Noah thought with a wince. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Markers are..." He thought for a moment on how best to describe them, something that to him was so simple. "Markers are little tubes with colored ink in them. The tips are... um... felt or fabric soaked in the ink. Then you just draw with the tip and... viola." He gestured lamely at the drawing. He looked back at her with another apologetic wince. "Listen, I'm really sorry. I... well, depending on how much time we spend together, I'm probably going to accidentally talk about some crazy sounding sh... stuff. A... a hundred years is... a long time." He smiled shakily, trying not to think too hard about it himself. So far the powder had done nothing for the pain behind his eyes, but it had only been, like, a minute. He had to be patient.

"A long time..." Rose echoed, feeling a sudden and powerful longing for that future. It startled her and she shook herself, rubbing her arms. A weight had settled onto her shoulders over the course of the evening. The present time however, was starting to press in on her. She stood and paced across the room in the hope that movement would ease the pressure building in her stomach.

"I think my father has gone. We could settle you in the spare room. We'll have to rise very early, to get you out before anyone notices. Then we can get to the park and.." she trailed off with a shrug and began tapping her foot, a nervous habit.

Noah nodded and wobbled to his feet, clutching at the blanket to keep it around his shoulders with one hand, and holding on to the clothing Rose had handed him with the other. Still, air billowed up under the blanket to chill his damp clothes, and he shivered. "Wake up early, go to the park. Okay. I can... handle that." He stood looking at her and her tapping foot, and his eyes filled with tears again. "Thanks again for helping me..." he said in a thick voice, pausing as he tried to dredge her name up out of the fog of the day. "... Rose."