walkswithheroes: (pic#5255076)
Sometimes, despite where they live and where she and Jason both come from, life can feel downright normal. She goes to work at the lab, he goes to work and the station, and sure, sometimes there's a vampire— both friend and foe— or some kinda weird Darrow thing involving bees, but other times, they can just spend a friday night in with a big bowl of popcorn and a movie.

She's maybe having second thoughts about letting Jason pick it, but she has a feeling he wouldn't really find the documentary she's got on loan from the library all that interesting. Still, any time spent cozy with Jason is a win in her book.

He's sprawled out in her lap on her couch at the moment as she reaches over to the side table for her soda. Though, a tell-tale slurp from her straw reminds her that she drank the last of it fifteen minutes ago and was too preoccupied with the movie to want to get up. Plus, she's really with the super comfy right now.

Picking up the cup, she dangles it just in Jason's line of sight, hoping to save herself the trip to the fridge.

"Jaaaaason. Any chance of a refill?" she asks.
walkswithheroes: (pic#6896834)
Pretty soon, Fred's going to need to actually find a job. She thinks there are a couple of labs around town where she could find some part time work, or maybe she could see if the university needs anyone to help out in their physics department, but for now, she's spent her time trying to find an office for the welcome center she's been brainstorming for what seems like forever now.

It doesn't really help move things forward when every couple of months, something crazy like half the city being stung by bees that cause frostbite happens either.

Today, however, she's been out and about, looking at properties, hoping to find some place that might be in her price range in the next few weeks, but decides to make a detour when she realizes she's near the police station. She can definitely spare a little while to visit Jason at work, and maybe see if he wants to get lunch.

Though by the time she makes it to the front desk to ask the receptionist if he's in, she can't remember whether or not Jason's supposed to be out on patrol today or not.

Dated 12/08

Dec. 8th, 2013 11:43 pm
walkswithheroes: (dinerface)
Fred has to keep reminding herself that this isn't the first time she's seen snow in years. Maybe Los Angeles never saw any in her time there, but there was also the island. The island where she remembers it snowing in December and turning into 18th century London. Where she remembers going sledding in way too many skirts.

That memory is what brings her outside today, bundled up in a coat and hat, wrapped in a bright yellow scarf to try and keep out some of the chill.

Maybe she's been through a few winters in dimensions like this, but that doesn't mean she's not still a Texas girl at heart. Or at least so far as it counts towards being used to the cold.

She heads toward the park, taking her time, not in any particular rush, mostly because the snow is just so pretty.
walkswithheroes: (pic#1162576)
It's not normally the type of news that warrants celebration. Fred hasn't solved any big problem or helped defeat any kind of monster or vampire or anything, but she's still giddy enough that the first thing she does is head over to Jason's.

Up until now, she hasn't done much in Darrow except try to figure out just how she should be spending her time. And as she's walking through town, past the train station, it finally hits her. She needs to still be helping people. Fred had that revelation of her true path in life a long time ago, and she needs to get back to that. And maybe it's not exactly the most lucrative of plans and she'll have to find some kind of job to support it— there's a lab in town that she thinks might be looking for people— but she's excited anyway.

It's not until Fred knocks on Jason's door that she realizes that she doesn't even know if he's home. She probably should have called first.

This is becoming kind of a habit.
walkswithheroes: (worriedface)
She hasn't been able to get him out of her head, not since that day at the diner.

There are a lot of things that Fred is good at; put a formula in front of her or a puzzle and she'll figure it out. Even the supposedly unsolveable ones— she's seen a lot of those— and given time, she'll take it all apart, put it back together, figure out how it works and solve it.

In Darrow, she's been given two unsolveable problems. One of those, the city itself, is one she's still convinced she'll work out given time. Five years, she spent in Pylea, working the problem, shouting incantations until her voice gave out, scribbling on cave walls just to get the numbers out of her head, and here with resources and actual books, she knows she can do it.

The other problem?

Well, that one isn't as easy.

What are you supposed to do when your head tells you one thing, but everything else in you says something different?

Because she knows that there's something about the police officer she met on her first day in Darrow that she can't exactly explain. Something weird and familiar and unfamiliar all at once. And now she's started remembering things that don't make sense. Snow and sand and sleds. Herself on a stage in front of faces she can't quite make out.

Fred's not exactly sure what to do about it all, which is why she looks up Jason's address and finds herself outside his apartment.

She's going crazy. She can't be going crazy.

She knocks.
walkswithheroes: (overwhelmedface)
When the last time you were stuck somewhere against your will maxed out at five years, a measly four months stuck in an alternate dimension is nothing. Especially not when there's a regular supply of money and a place to stay and someone Fred knows from home around. It's more than a few steps up from living in a cave.

Though, all of that doesn't mean that Darrow's stopped feeling like some weird place that Fred can't wait to figure out how to leave. Even without much success, she's kept up trying to figure Darrow out. Which is why she's holed up in a booth in a diner near Chelsea Cloisters, a small stack of books on the seat next to her while she flips through a book on magic that she's found in the back of one of Darrow's libraries.

There's a cup of coffee next to her that's gone cold, but every time she remembers to ask for a refill, Fred's distracted by something else in her book.

Just three more pages and she'll flag down a waitress.

[For Jason]

Mar. 4th, 2012 08:56 pm
walkswithheroes: (doubtfulface)
In the weeks since finding that reel on the bookshelf, Fred hasn't done much. The first week or so was mostly spent in the compound, either in her room or in the rec room, pouring through spell books and dusty volumes in languages that she has to cross-reference with others just so she can understand them.

But this isn't like last time. It's not like when she first arrived and she spent her days cooped up looking for a way off of the island. Her gears have shifted, and while her nose is still in a book for more than a few hours each day, she's not keeping herself confined to the concrete walls of the compound. Today, for instance, she's settled in at Jason's, sitting on his floor with a stack of books next to her that she's been adding to just about every time she comes by to visit.

"You know, there's actually nothing in these that actually talks about the Old Ones, but they're alluded to like crazy," Fred says, not looking up from a giant volume in some language that she can barely translate. She straightens her glasses on her nose before running a hand through her hair, "This doesn't make any sense."
walkswithheroes: (Default)
She really should have seen this coming.

Just a week ago, Fred had been talking to Olivia about how maybe the island was just buttering them all up. They'd gotten a carnival and rides and prizes and every kind of yummy deep fried food that Fred could think of, so of course the giant stuffed bunny that she'd won had suddenly come to life only to try to savagely murder her with its bunny teeth. It was just the way this dimension worked.

Five minutes later, and she's standing in the hallway of the compound, an axe in both hands, in the middle of a stare-down with the carnival prize.

"Okay, Mister Oppenheimer," she says, using his full name to emphasize the seriousness of the situation, "One of us is about to be a pile of fluffy bunny stuffing, and it's not me."

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Fred Burkle

July 2014

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