5 comments/ 8525 views/ 5 favorites The Stick Figure Lady Ch. 01 By: HenrithJames Author Note: Hi, this is the beginning of a potentially very long story. There is no sex in this chapter but there will be sex coming soon. Also you are not likely to find extensive character descriptions, just hints and little features, there will be no cup sizes, nor back-story info-dumps. Details come across as the story calls for them, not in bulk. Unless ages are stated outright, assume the character to be over 18. Enjoy. Oh and a word on spelling, I'm an Australian who lived in the US for a time, and as such I swap back and forth in how I spell. Italics in the text are internal thoughts of Jacob. -- Under just about any other circumstance Jacob wouldn't have done it. He still had a reluctance to violate the mysterious and sacred nature of the place. But after having been delayed for twelve hours as they removed an engine from the plane and broke the air-conditioning when they put a new one on, his bladder and an out-of-order sign overrode his hesitation. He went into the ladies room. Jacob hadn't bypassed the skirted stick-figure guardian since he was a child, too young to feel that his unwelcome presence was dirtying up the place. He did understand, as all men do, that women's restrooms were intrinsically better than those of his own sex, if only for the lack of urine on the floor. He was not however prepared for what waited for him on the other side of that door. He was not prepared for the sudden loss of footing, nor the abrupt fall that followed. His carry-on falling on top of him was not nearly as painful as his breath stealing impact upon the ground. The section of door that fell on him moments later made a much larger impression than his luggage. Jacob normally would have sworn profusely at the pain that radiated from where the door impacted his lower back, but all he could manage was a wheeze, his lungs still empty from the fall. The seconds ticked by slowly; in the back of his mind Jacob knew that he'd be able to breath again soon, but being winded always felt like the end. Finally air rushed back through his lips in gasping bursts and he rolled onto his back in relief. That relief died when he looked up at the ceiling. "What?" A blue cloudless sky hung overhead, daylight warming the skin of his face. There was so many things wrong with it. In the two weeks he'd been in LA the smog hadn't cleared enough to see blue once. Not to mention the last time he looked at the time it was just before three in the morning. And there was the minor issue of being inside the terminal at LAX. The sky loomed overhead, telling him in no uncertain terms that something unusual was happening. Very fucking unusual. The list of possibilities formed by itself in his mind. Rapid onset of previously undiagnosed mental illness. You've gone insane Lost your marbles. Cuckoo for coco puffs. Massive cranial trauma resulting in hallucinations/memory loss. You hit your head. Bonked your noggin. Cracked your nut. It wasn't a terribly extensive list, and most of it was admittedly redundant. Not discounting the possibility of insanity, Jacob decided that lacking a headache or dizziness he probably hadn't suffered a blow to the head. Glancing to the side brought the remains of the door into view. It had been severed vertically, the clean line just beside the still intact stick-figure. "No bloody way," Jacob said to the stick-figure, "No. Bloody. Way." The fact she didn't say anything back gave Jacob some hope for his sanity. "Okay, so it would seem I've gone through a portal slash wormhole," Jacob said to himself, "Gone through to where?" Nothing screamed out to Jacob as he looked around; the landscape was much the same in every direction. Grassy hills spread out in every direction, dotted with the occasional tree, they hid what was further away but what he could see didn't differ at all. "Grazing land maybe?" Jacob said to himself, his habit when working through a problem, "What I would give for a 'you are here' sign." Jacob froze for a moment. "Or you could look at your phone you idiot." A moment later he had his phone out, code typed in and eyes locked to the signal readout. No bars. Not a good sign. Knowing the GPS should still work anyway he popped open the maps app he'd installed for his US trip. "Come on," Jacob said to the phone, continuing his recent spate of taking to things that didn't respond, "Find a satellite already." When the box popped up mid-screen with the words 'No GPS signal' Jacob swore at it. He crushed the inevitable Wizard of Oz jokes that popped up in his head. "I am not bloody Dorothy," Jacob said, starting out for the closest hill. Reaching the crest, Jacob scanned the distance for signs of life. He sighed with relief seeing a cluster of buildings and a dirt road in the distance. Again the relief died as he looked at the impossible sight before him. "Okay I'm Dorothy," Jacob said reluctantly, gaze darting back and forth between the two moons that hung low in the sky. -------- After Jacob had finally come to grips with his new identity as a dispossessed girl from Kansas he set about figuring out what to do. Buildings and road aside, Jacob wasn't quite ready to embrace the alien planet with too much haste. So he looked around at his landing site. He was no arborist, but the trees looked like trees and the grass was unmistakably grass. He could breath, and the sky was blue so the atmosphere was similar to Earth. It was becoming clear to Jacob now that this was not the first time whatever it was that brought him here had happened. It was all too familiar, too similar for it to be anything else. If he could come through why not seeds, plants or air. Or animals. "People, human people," Jacob grinned as he spoke. It was a refreshing thought, the idea of aliens was nice and the possibility of meeting some was amazing but an alien planet was enough for Jacob; he'd work his way up to little green men. Hang on, why am I assuming it only works one way? Jacob looked up at where he'd estimated it was he came through, based on how much it hurt hitting the ground. It would make sense for it to be more like a doorway than anything else. I wasn't sucked through, I just stepped through. There's nothing to say I couldn't just do it the other way around. Jacob looked at the remains of the door, still severed in two. It's probably closed, but I should check anyway. He ripped a handful of grass and dirt out of the ground, crushing it into a makeshift ball. Jacob didn't have to throw it too far, which was lucky because it fell apart in mid-air. The pieces spread out, passing through the spot he'd picked with no change. A dozen more followed it just in case. Nothing. Always one to accept the inevitable, Jacob gathered the bags that had come with him. The relative value of the items in the bags had changed dramatically. Food and clothing had become vastly more important than his laptop or phone. He repacked what might be of use into his laptop satchel, and put everything else into the wheeled suitcase. If he had to run the suitcase would slow him. Fortunately he'd been looking at a long flight back to Australia, so he had a change of clothes and some snacks. Off to see the wizard... "No," Jacob said, silencing the song running through his head. He took a few steps, paused then turned back towards the half destroyed door. A few moments and a chipped nail later, the guardian of the ladies room was being dropped into his bag. -------- It was, as Jacob had suspected, a farm. Even on another planet the fences, gates and runs made that clear. There was six buildings in all each constructed from wood, stone and what Jacob assumed was thatch. No glass or metal, brick or tile. It could have been plucked from history. Jacob approached the buildings openly, listening to the sounds of voices and work drifting out of them. He'd thought of sneaking up to them, but he wasn't especially confident in his ability to hide his tall frame in broad daylight. When he first caught sight of the farms occupants, his suspicions about their species were confirmed. She'd just stepped out of one of the buildings when he saw her, the door swinging on its hinges behind her. And she was very much a human. A cloth tied her hair back, several light brown strands escaping to rest upon her lightly tanned face. With a change of clothes she would have fit in anywhere. A smile came to Jacob's face as he realised that no matter what else this planet did or did not have, at least it had pretty girls. She had spotted him moments after he first saw her, and while surprised she did not panic. They both stared for a time, frozen in place as if they were waiting for the other to move first. It wasn't until she started blushing that Jacob realised the way he'd been staring and smiling at her. Probably best to save the flirting until you know if there is someone likely to take offense. He quickly adjusted his smile and held both his hands out to the sides slowly. "Hello," Jacob said, knowing there was only a small chance she'd understand. At the word her face lit up in a smile, before she abruptly ran off shouting. She was not shouting in English. Whatever it was she yelled, the response was prompt, people emerged from the buildings immediately moving to surround Jacob. They were making efforts to seem unthreatening and casual, although Jacob was less than thrilled to have potential escape routes cut off. A steady stream of unintelligible chatter passed back and forth between them as they took in the spectacle of Jacob. Here he was a spectacle, his clothing, his luggage, his shoes; all of him was out of place next to their dull woollen clothing. Jacob had settled on a compromise between comfort and dressing up for his flight. Flying alone meant only having whoever was next to you to talk to for hours on end, and it didn't help if they thought you were a slob from the beginning. A nice jacket over a Bill Murray t-shirt and dark jeans and black dress shoes was just dressy enough without being uncomfortable after a few hours. And everyone loves Bill Murray. Still, looking around, Jacob could not help to notice that his outfit held more colour than all of the people's clothes combined. He counted them carefully; seven men and nine women stared back at him as he turned to make sure he didn't miss any. Too few for the size of the place, so more were off somewhere else. The girl he'd said hello to wasn't among them, but he spotted her making her way back from one of the buildings. Moments later a man leading a horse emerged from the same building, heading towards Jacob. The circle opened up to allow him closer, and he approached Jacob, handing off the horse to one of the men. "British?" the man said, with an accent Jacob couldn't place. Careful, you don't know anything yet. "Do you speak English?" Jacob asked, avoiding an answer. "No," the man shook his head as he replied, then held up one hand, finger and thumb held close together. "A little. Okay," Jacob looked around then gestured at the people around him, "Anyone else speak English?" "No," the man replied, "Where from? Britain? America?" Jacob was relieved; if they knew about America then there were definitely people who spoke English around somewhere. He was awful at learning new languages, six years of Japanese at school and he could barely remember how to ask 'how are you'. Jacob decided to answer honestly, "Australia." The curious look on the man's face revealed to Jacob the unfamiliarity of the word. They don't know about Australia, so either it has been a while since someone came through, or they just don't know all the countries. "Australia?" the man said the name like a question. "Yes," Jacob responded simply, not sure how to explain Australia through rudimentary English and charades. Seeing Jacob wasn't going to elaborate the man nodded looking back to his horse. "Will bring English. Then Australia," He said, turning to mount the horse. Jacob watched as he rode off down the dirt path wondering what exactly he was supposed to do while the man was bringing 'English'. He looked around at the crowd, watching as the girl from earlier was being whispered to by one of the women, then prodded towards him. "Hello," she said to him, cheeks flushed. "Hello," Jacob said back, moderating the grin that came to his face once more. "Brea," she said, pointing to herself. "Brea," Jacob smiled as he said the name softly, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Jacob." "Jacob," Brea smiled back at him, glancing over her shoulder at the woman who had been whispering to her, then taking his hand, "Come." She led him through the crowd of people, glancing back at his suitcase rolling along behind him. Something about it amused her; every time she looked at it her mouth twitched. It was ridiculously cute, and Jacob could not help but feel a little bit calmer with the whole situation because of it. Fall through a wormhole onto another planet and for the first girl you see on the other side. Idiot. She took him to what he assumed was the main farmhouse, he glanced back to see the women and several of the men following the parallel lines left by his suitcase in the dirt. He smiled back at them, not quite sure what exactly was going on. Inside the floor was wood, his footsteps sounding loud as they echoed in the open space below. The room was large and open, but split up into different areas. Two fireplaces flanked the room on either side, and Jacob could see what appeared to be a kitchen through the door on the other side of the room from him. Chairs surrounded one fireplace, with seating enough for a dozen or more. A table and long benches occupied the space in front of the other fireplace. All in all it looked like it would be a nice place to relax on a cold night, although Jacob thought it could use a few bookshelves to complete the image. Everything was better with a few books. Brea started to lead him toward the chairs, but Jacob stopped her gently, pointing to his bag. Her smile twitched once more then she gestured at the wall behind him. Several coats hung along the wall beside the door, shoes below. Jacob wheeled his case over and left it beside them, pausing to take off his satchel and hang his jacket on a free hook. When he turned back to her she was looking at his shirt, her head tilted slightly and her amused little smile on her face. Jacob smiled to himself in wry amusement, suspecting that he was going to be dealing with many such looks for a while. He took her hand again, and was pulled over to a large double seater chair. There were others like it nearby, probably the closest things to couches they could make. Jacob sat, leaning back against the soft cushions, wool again unless he was mistaken. Definitely a sheep or sheep like animal farm. Brea sat beside him, looking back behind him to the door. Before Jacob could glance back she was moving closer, curling up beside him. Suddenly he didn't care what she'd seen behind him. The floorboards rang out as people walked in, but none came closer to them. Jacob looked at Brea, wondering what she was up to. This feels like I'm being set up on a date. Brea's hand reached out to trace the image of Bill Murray on his chest, her fingers running softly across the fabric. The touch was innocent, curious and at the same time intimate. He caught her hand in his, running his fingers along her surprisingly soft skin. She met his eyes, then blushed once more and looked away. His heart jumped. Jacob had always had a soft spot for a woman who blushed. Not that he could tell her that, or rather he could, but she wouldn't understand. "Brea," he said to her, not sure what else to say. She looked back at him, and got a look on her face that could only be called mischievous. "Jacob," she said, her accent softening the J. Blushing, sexy accent, cute smile. That's it, you're gone. Jacob knew it was true, even as he argued with himself internally. She doesn't even speak English! Doesn't matter. He ran his fingers along the back of her hand, and down her forearm, watching her eyes close briefly at his touch. Jacob had to agree with his inner voice; none of it mattered. Caught in the moment he reached up with his left hand, brushing against her cheek. Her head tilted towards his hand, her cheek rubbing against his palm, her hair brushing his fingertips. He moved further, fingers finding the cloth in her hair, the knot in it, and working it undone carefully. The cloth came away in his fingers as her hair fell free, soft brown strands brushing against his hand. Handing the cloth to her he reached up once more and ran his hand through her hair again, watching her eyes close and mouth forming words he didn't know under her breath. The return of his senses was abrupt, as was the sound of the door slamming across the room. Brea jumped at the noise, looking around in surprise. Jacob looked around at the people seated across the room at the table. They did not look happy, several wore scowls openly. But they were looking at the door not at Jacob and Brea. Still Brea pulled away slightly, looking nervous and worried. Jacob took her hand again, giving her a look that he hoped conveyed comfort and reassurance. She gave him a weak smile, not letting go, but not moving closer again either. Now would be a really helpful time for her to speak English. Oh shut up. Unsure of what exactly was going on, or how long he would have to wait for the rider's return, Jacob settled back into the chair. This world was going to take some getting used to. The Stick Figure Lady Ch. 02 - Author Note: Thanks for everyone who read and commented/voted on part one. Here is Chapter 2. Should provide some answers, more questions and yes, there is some interesting stuff towards the end. I hope you enjoy. -------- It took some time, but Brea eventually curled up against Jacob again. It was a relief when she finally rested her head against his chest, and not just because of the way it felt. For nearly an hour he'd sat there, surrounded by people watching him, yet only Brea showed any sign of doing more than watch. The feel of her warmth, the pressure of her body on his felt domestic, familiar, normal. It was a sign of just how strange the situation was that Jacob was getting a sense of normality from a girl he couldn't even speak to. Never one for sitting still while working on a problem, Jacob found his hands wandering along with his mind. His mind noted small things as his hands discovered them, the feel of the fabric of her dress, the callus free skin on her palms, the way the soft hair on her arms stood up as he brushed against it. It was all subconscious, nervous energy forcing the actions. When his lips touched the top of her head, nose breathing in the clean smell of her hair, he finally noticed what he was doing. Brea was muttering under her breath again, but from what he could make out didn't seem displeased. It wasn't long before Jacob found himself relaxing despite himself. Which is when the interplanetary jet lag finally caught up with him. -------- Jacob woke to a numb arm and a face full of hair. Brea had apparently followed him into his slumbers. "Brea," Jacob whispered, cupping her face with his free arm, "Brea." She stirred slowly, face turning towards his, brown eyes staring up at him. Her earlier blushes were absent, her lips slightly parted. Jacob moved before thinking, head tilting down to meet hers. "You're awake at last," came a woman's voice from somewhere nearby. Jacob ignored the voice, his lips meeting Brea's. Any trace of sleep left him as he felt the kiss deepen. Blood rushed into weary limbs, and other places. His arm came free from beneath her as she turned into the kiss, her hands coming to rest on his chest, his found her waist and neck. "Well," came the voice again, hesitant, unsure this time. Jacob pulled away, his eye's opening to meet Brea's. Her green eyes shone with the same eagerness and desire he was certain his own held. Wait green? Her eyes were brown. Focus. Woman speaking to you remember? Jacob turned to face the source of the intrusion. It was immediately clear that the woman seated across from him was as nearly as out of place in the farmhouse as he was himself. Enough blue fabric to dress at least three more women made up what could only be described, with its detailed embroidery, as her gown. Fashion, it seemed, had not progressed terribly far in the last few hundred years on this side of the portal. "My apologies," Jacob said, examining what he could see of the woman inside the dress, "I fear it has been an unusual day." Understatement. Hey, she's kinda... Stop it. "Yes, well," the woman avoided looking at Brea, still practically in his lap, "I expect it has been at that." Jacob shifted Brea gently, taking hold of her hand so she didn't think badly of it. It was extremely hard to think with her so close. His newest visitor seemed to be rather formal, and her accent was evocative of upper class England. Yes. Which is kinda.... ENOUGH. "Still, that is no reason to neglect the proper courtesies," Jacob said, while channelling memories of pompous TV 'gentlemen', "I am Jacob Duncan, at your service." Something about her face made him think that perhaps it was a bit much. "Mr Duncan, it is a pleasure to meet you. And such refined manners," she took a dramatic pause, "Well it is remarkable. But where are my manners, I am Lady Elenor Mercer, Governess to Count Barclay of Oxford." Jacob re-evaluated his approach, clearly using half remembered TV shows as his guide was not ideal. He'd misjudged her, her posture, her reddish hair up in a tight bun all screamed formality, but she clearly was not as stuffy as it seemed. He could not help but smile at her obvious wit, mocking though it was. "Let's try that again. Lady Elenor it's nice to meet you, and I am glad to hear someone speaking English." "No doubt. I expect you have many questions," Lady Elenor replied. "Probably more than you care to answer," Jacob said honestly, "But first you said you were a Governess? Does that mean you are in charge of the education of the Count's children?" "Yes it does," Elenor replied, smiling, "His daughters only though, his sons are studying at The University." Jacob took note of the way she said University, the singularity and the hint of something more that she wasn't sharing. "I apologise if this seems rude, but why you in particular? Why did you come to meet me?" "A fair question," Elenor replied, "There are several reasons. The Countess trusts my judgement, you status warranted a member of their household and additionally I hold rank myself. Your presence here also has bearing on my duties as Governess." Jacob pondered her response, trying to figure out the pieces she'd given him. That it was pieces was clear, there was much she was holding back. The slight hint of smugness on her face told him that she enjoyed his ignorance. It was a playful smugness, not an arrogant one, and Jacob ground his teeth together rather than ask the obvious questions. Can't learn an entire world in one day. I would love to wipe that look off her face though. "Do you know what year the last people came through?" Jacob asked. "The answer to that is complicated. We don't truly know when the last person came through, as it can be anywhere. Survival is not guaranteed either. The last I heard of appeared several hundred feet above the ground," Elenor paused at Jacob's nod, "Ah, you had a fall too?" "Not quite that far fortunately," Jacob replied. "You are more fortunate than you know," Elenor spoke, smiling, "Here at least you can find someone to speak to, outside New Britain that is rare." "New Britain," Jacob repeated, "I thought it might be something like that. If the other question is difficult to answer, when did New Britain start out?" "Ah, it didn't truly start off until the founding of London, but it began with the HMS Restoration, which came through in 1703," Elenor lectured, clearly a lesson she'd taught before. "An entire ship?" Jacob asked, surprised, "I don't think the one I came through was much bigger than a person." "They used to be larger. There are records of all sorts of things coming through, although often it was never more than a few people at a time. The Restoration came through with over three hundred." "Because they'd still have to move through, not many people likely to do that after watching people disappear," Jacob pondered out loud. "Exactly," Elenor sounded pleased. A proud teacher. I've travelled to another world to go back to school. Wonderful. "Three hundred. That's a decent sized ship. No doubt with more than a few guns and cannons," Jacob mused, "And full of British colonial spirit as well." "That they did. But with them also came a unifying presence unlike any that this region had seen before," Elenor continued, her passion for the subject clear, "There was not as much fighting as you might think, and since then there has been prosperity and growth." So the British Empire lives on. I wonder what the Queen would think if she knew. "Has a new monarchy been established?" Jacob asked. "No, we remain loyal to the Crown. Parliament rules in the stead of," she trailed off, "Do we have a Queen or a King? It has been a long time since we last heard." "Queen. Elizabeth the second," Jacob replied. "Elizabeth," Elenor echoed, eyes shining with interest before she shook her head, "No, I'm sorry that can wait. What else would you like to ask?" Jacob tried to think of where to start, there was too much he didn't know. He glanced at Brea who was looking at him curiously. He realised she probably was listening to him speak, before Elenor's arrival he'd barely said more than Brea's name. The question came to him immediately. "If this is New Britain, why don't these people speak English?" Jacob asked, then added, "And what language do they speak?" "Ah, English is indeed the dominant language in most of New Britain, but some areas still hold onto the old language," Elenor answered, "It doesn't have a name as such. Rather it does, depending on the heritage of the speaker. It is a mixture of languages really, each newcomer brought new words and the language shifted with them." Elenor gestured to the building before continuing, "These people have only recently come to New Britain, like many others. Most others near Oxford have been here a generation or two at the least." Elenor paused again, then indicated Brea, "She only arrived a few years ago. She is here to wait for you, or rather someone from the Old World." Jacob felt Brea tense beside him, knowing they were talking about her. Jacob squeezed her hand in comfort, meeting Elenor's eyes with a hint of caution. "What, exactly, do you mean?" he asked pointedly. The way Lady Elenor reacted was not at all as he expected. Certainly he had wanted her to be careful with her words, but clearly she read much more into his demeanour than he had intended. Her hands rose as if to shield herself from him, worry appearing on her face. "I," she started, then faltering lowered her hands and swallowed her anxiety, "I am sorry if I offended, it was not my intention. Truly." More strangeness. She looked like I was going to hit her. Brea was looking at him with reproach, like he'd done something wrong. Which admittedly he might have, but who knows what exactly that had been. "Let us chalk it up to cultural differences. But I still want an answer," Jacob said, rubbing his temple to ease the headache that was forming. "She is what we call a Watcher Maiden," Elenor began slowly, careful with her words, "They belong to a group that has survived here for as long as recorded history. In fact that's part of what they do, record history." "There is more to them than that," Elenor continued, "But the Maidens are selected, educated, then sent out to live all across the world. They wait for people to cross through to this world." Jacob's thoughts spun. A group dedicated to waiting for people to appear? From what Elenor had said there had only been a few in the last three hundred odd years. To dedicate your life to such a small chance was unthinkable. "Why?" "That is something we will have to discuss later, once we have reached the Count's estate," Elenor replied evasively, "Which we will have to leave for soon." Jacob was getting warier by the minute. It seemed that there were secrets hidden beneath everything in this world, even Brea. She was still listening to the conversation carefully, despite the language barrier. "You may bring her if you wish. She will no doubt follow even if we left her here," Elenor said, noting Jacob watching Brea. "I don't have a habit of forcing women to go places with me," Jacob responded tersely, "Why do you assume she would go?" She's been waiting for you, probably for years you idiot. "I understand there is some, difficulty, with a young man on this farm," Elenor said quietly, "It seems he was rather vocal about his interest in the young lady. I've been told she was quite vocal about her opposition, despite the fact she has nearly reached the end of her tenure." Jacob though back to the angry looks among the farmers, and the way Brea had pulled away earlier. It made sense now. "Her tenure?" Jacob asked. "They only serve for four years. She has less than half a year remaining," Elenor replied. "And how long is a year here?" Jacob asked. "Ah, you will find this interesting no doubt. Time remains the same here as in the Old World. A day is a day, a year a year." "That's not possible," Jacob said, shocked, "Or at the least so unlikely it might as well be." "Exactly. It has been argued in depth by professors at The University for centuries. The rest of us merely accept it as true and move on," Elenor smiled as she spoke, "Although I think it will annoy you to no end." Cheeky bloody... Jacob shot her a look that conveyed all his annoyance, it was the wrong move, she simply smiled more. You've just come to a world with two moons, where the British Empire still holds sway, through a bloody hole in the universe and the fact that the calendar is the same seems impossible? "Ask her," Jacob said to change the subject, "I know your reasoning, but I still want to ask if she wants to come." Elenor tipped her head to him respectfully, apparently whatever her problems with Brea, if indeed she had any, she did not like the idea of taking a woman against her will anymore than he did. Their exchange was brief, Elenor's question polite, Brea's response instant and clearly a vigorous yes. Although she looked at him afterwards, the question in her eyes clear, was it what he wanted? Jacob simply kissed her again. As their lips met and his heart raced with the sensation of her, part of him revelled in the lack of words between them. Speaking was very much overrated. An unladylike noise came from Elenor's throat, breaking the moment and drawing the pair's attention too her. Jacob smiled when he saw her eyes darting around, looking anywhere but at the pair. Well, it seems our Lady Elenor isn't used to public affection. Now I know what to do when she gets that smug look on her face. "Lady Elenor, would you please ask Brea to gather her things?" Jacob asked, looking directly at Brea as he spoke, "I'm certain that you would like to leave soon." Jacob could see Elenor gathering herself to respond out of the corner of his eye. As she opened her mouth to speak he turned to look at her finally, unsettling her once more. A petty trick, but an amusing one. "Yes, well," Elenor said brokenly, "Actually her things are already stored with your own in my carriage. As I said earlier, there was little doubt she would be coming with you." Jacob ignored her again, focusing on the conundrum that was Brea. What exactly was she to him, and more importantly what was he to her? Their connection was undeniable and her behaviour did not seem an affectation. People on this world would undoubtedly attempt to use him, if only for his knowledge of advances in the 'Old World'. At least Brea, whatever her secret motives were, seemed interested in him as a person as well, not just a tool. That might be the best he could hope for. And there is the way she is looking at me right now. I swear she looks ready to tear my clothes off right here. Use your other head idi... You know what, to hell with it. When in Rome. Jacob realised he'd started grinning like a fool and quickly put a more serious look on his face. Brea burst out laughing, and Elenor raised a hand to her mouth to hide her involuntary smirk. Jacob decided to put them both in their place and kissed Brea again. Since he caught her mid laugh, when he pulled away she was breathing heavily, and, refreshingly, quiet. Elenor was suitably wide eyed as well. "Shall we then?" Jacob asked smugly. -------- The carriage ride was slow, but not boring. Brea had picked up on Elenor's discomfort with their affection, and had joined Jacob in teasing the poor governess. By the time they arrived, Elenor was practically ready to jump from the carriage while it was in motion. Jacob was finding the situation uncomfortable himself, or more specifically his jeans. Dusk had come and gone midway through the journey, so the Count's estate was ensconced in shadows when they arrived. While the sight was muted, the grandeur of the place still exceeded Jacob's every expectation, which had not been terribly high after the farm. In place of the small manor his mind had imagined was a building that could have held it ten times over. Built in the style of English country estates from the Old world, dozens upon dozens of windows looked out over the courtyard where they had arrived. Servants stood waiting for them despite the late hour. Or at least Jacob assumed it was a late hour, he had no idea what their policy was on daylight savings. Jacob exited the carriage first, offering an arm to each of the women as they exited. It seemed the polite thing to do, and in this setting he felt an urge to act a bit more like a gentleman than he had been in the last few hours. "Sir, allow me to extend the welcome of his Lordship, the Count Barclay. I am his valet, Conrad, at your service," said the stiff backed man clearly in charge of the gathering. Summoning as much dignity as he could muster while wearing a T-shirt and jeans that had become much too tight, Jacob addressed the valet. "It's good to meet you Conrad. I am grateful for the welcome, and the offer of hospitality that Lady Elenor extended on their behalf," Jacob said, hoping that his unfamiliarity with the courtesies of these people wouldn't offend anyone, "Until I can convey my gratitude in person, perhaps I could call upon you to express my appreciation to the Count and Countess?" Conrad gave no sign as to whether or not the proper forms had been fulfilled, his expression remained unchanged, his posture fixed. "Indeed sir, I will do just that. The Count is not in residence at this time, but her Ladyship has requested your presence at lunch tomorrow. If you will follow me I will show you to your rooms," Conrad said, voice ever formal, but making no move to leave. "I will see you tomorrow at breakfast Mr Duncan," Lady Elenor said, "Until then." "Until then," Jacob echoed, watching as the governess entered the manor through a small door beside the main entranceway, "Conrad, I would indeed like to see the rooms, and please inform her Ladyship I would be honored to lunch with her." Conrad inclined his head before turning to lead them into the house. The inside was no less impressive than the outside. Lush carpets lined the hall, and candles gave off a warm light that illuminated ornate plasterwork. Not exactly my style, but I could get used to it. Brea took hold of his hand as they followed, when he looked at her she assumed the stiff backed posture of their guide, her face becoming a solemn mask. It was all Jacob could do to not burst out laughing. She kept it up until Conrad stopped in front of a door in front of them. "Here you are sir. As you missed dinner I had the kitchens prepare a meal for you, it's waiting inside, along with your bags," Conrad said, opening the door to reveal a large and well furnished room, "I will leave you to your meal, unless there is anything else?" The way he avoided looking at Brea drew attention to her presence. Jacob became very much aware of the fact they hadn't said anything regarding a room for Brea. Maybe they aren't so stuffy after all? Jacob glanced at Brea, who simply smiled back at him, eyes green and flickering in the candlelight. Should I... Rome. When in. "No Conrad, I think that will be all," Jacob said, unable to take his eyes from Brea, "Have a good night." Jacob thought he caught a small smile on Conrad's face, quickly quashed as he turned to look again. "Indeed sir, a good night to you as well," Conrad said, somehow conveying humor in the absence of any mirth on his face. Brea pulled him into the room as Conrad left, heading for the covered trays laid out on a beautifully carved sideboard against one wall. Pulling the lid from one she smiled at its contents, and covered it again. Jacob looked on, confused as she did the same with the other. The Stick Figure Lady Ch. 03 - Author Note - Apologies to all for the delay, there are numerous reasons for it, not all of them good. Mostly I have been having trouble deciding where exactly I want this story to go, in large part because I found myself investing more time than I expected in research. This chapter should give you a good idea of the potential direction the story may take. But there is a lot more yet for Jacob to learn. -------- When Jacob awoke his first thoughts were of Brea, and the fact she was missing from the bed. He'd fallen asleep with the comforting weight of her draped across him like a thick blanket. Undoubtedly he would have been left numb and sore after a time with even her slender form on top of him, but it had been a good feeling all the same. Along with Brea most of the candlelight was gone as well, leaving the room in shadow, with just the dim light of a single candle to see by. Jacob was relieved to see Brea curled up in a chair beside the shifting flame. And amused when he saw that she was wearing his discarded t-shirt. Bill Murray would probably be happy to know that his face decorated such wonderful breasts. One of the trays of food rested on a small table beside her, and she was happily devouring its contents, ignorant of Jacob's eyes on her. He took advantage of her distraction, drinking in the sight of her, open and unguarded. There was nothing special about it, she merely ate, but in Jacob's mind every movement, every expression was fascinating. And she eats with her mouth closed! Which is clearly more important than sharing a common language. Jacob shook his head at his thoughts, the movement drawing Brea's eyes. She smiled around the piece of bread she was eating. She tore another hunk off the bread still on the tray and threw it to him. Jacob reached up to catch it and found his hand closing over empty air. The piece of bread darted around his hand, curving mid flight, coming to an abrupt halt directly in front of his face. He jerked back from it, surprised and stared at it hovering there. And it was hovering there, floating in space unsupported. It started to spin, then began moving in random directions, causing his eyes to dart rapidly to follow its movements. Apparently it made an amusing sight because Brea began laughing at him. "Are you?" Jacob asked her, tearing his eyes away from the bread, "You are! How?" Brea fought back her laughter at his wide eyed expression and raised her hand to point at him. "You now," she said simply. "Me?" Jacob uttered softly, face blank for a moment, forcing down his sudden burst of eagerness. "Yes," Brea replied, and the bread dropped from the air onto Jacob's chest. It sat there on his chest, rising and falling with his breath, his mind racing with the possibilities. He almost didn't want to try, as he felt the sudden fear of failure, that the impossible that had become possible before his eye would suddenly be impossible once more. "How?" he said softly, even as his mind bent to the task. It can't be as simple as willing it to move, there has to be more... The bread lifted off his chest the moment he started consciously thinking of it doing so. And it was utterly effortless, he pictured it moving with his mind and it did so, as simple as if he'd used his hand. Easier even. Another impossibility. This entire world is impossible. Yeah, but you've got to admit this is beyond awesome. Jacob made the bread dart around the room, marvelling at the fact he was moving something with his mind, marvelling at the fact there was so much he had yet to understand about this place he found himself in. "Is there more? Can we do other things too?" he asked Brea, bringing the bread back to rest in his hand. She shrugged at him, it was obvious that she didn't quite understand, or did not know how to convey the message to him. "Okay so I'm going to have to wait to find out. Unless," Jacob said to himself, looking down at the bread, "Movement. Kinetic energy. Heat?" Even as he spoke his mind was working, a very rough image forming of molecules moving within a small part of the bread. Heat was essentially movement, if he could make things move, surely he could make them hot. He pictured them moving faster, hitting each other. It was more the concept of molecules rather than an exact form, but it was enough. A flame appeared from the bread as the heat caused it to spontaneously combust. Jacob was suddenly glad he had only pictured that tiny part in his mind and not the whole piece, as he quickly blew it out before it could burn his hand. "Jacob," Brea breathed the name, her eyes wide and shocked, coming to stand beside him, taking the bread from his hand. His shirt was too large for her slender frame, too long for her height. But that just made it hang down just far enough to hide what lay between her legs, but not far enough that it did not hint at it. Jacob was painfully aware of that fact, eyes locked on the fabric that threatened at any moment to reveal her to him. "Jacob!" Brea grabbed him by the head, bread crushing against his cheek forgotten. She pulled his gaze to hers, eyes pleading with him for something. "You didn't know," Jacob said, as the realisation came to him, "You don't understand." Brea nodded to him, understanding his tone if not his words. "How Jacob? How?" she asked, voice soft but urgent. He paused to ponder that himself. It wasn't that he'd imagined heat, or fire, that wouldn't have worked or Brea would have been able to do it. It was that I understood it. That I understood what heat was. And there is no way I can explain that to her. Not with mime. "I'm sorry Brea, I can't explain," Jacob told her, holding her hand, "I want to, but." "English," Brea said angrily, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. "Yes," Jacob replied, "I'm sorry." She paced the room, muttering to herself in the strange patchwork language that separated them. It was one of the very few moments that Jacob had witness where she was not smiling. So he decided to change that. Brea squeaked when she lifted into the air, but calmed immediately, shaking her head at him as he floated her into his arms. "Jay-cob," she said playfully, poking him in the chest with her finger. The poke became a caress as she traced his bare skin with that finger. He kissed her, pulling her body to his chest and trapping the roving finger. Her mouth tasted of something sweet, and she moaned into him. "Jay-cob," Brea breathed when their kiss broke, "No." She patted his chest regretfully as she said it, she clearly did not want to stop. Why...? Oh. "How are you feeling?" Jacob asked, sitting down on the bed and simply holding her. Brea snuggled into him, not answering his words. Jacob brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. "Feel better," Jacob whispered, lips brushing her skin. They sat like that for a time, Brea comfortably snuggled against him as he rested against the headboard. It was still hours before dawn, but after their two naps neither was tired enough to sleep again. Brea floated the tray of food over to them and they shared the assortment of bread, fruit and cheese. So that's why she looked at them, to see if the food was hot. So a hot meal would have been more important than sex? Girl likes her food. Jacob grinned at her, laughing at the puzzled expression she gave in response. In between being distracted by the remarkable woman in his arms, Jacob managed to spare a few moments to think about the latest revelation in his increasingly bizarre life. What exactly were the limits? Clearly he had done something Brea could not, did that mean there was more still? He contemplated experimenting, but decided it might be more prudent to wait. When the difference between a piece of bread catching fire, and a ball of superheated plasma was a thought, care was definitely warranted. Still he did come up with an idea that he just could not put off. The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky when Jacob gently shifted Brea so he could stand. "Brea," Jacob said, taking her hand, "Follow me, I want to give you something." He led her back into the other rooms, looking for something he'd spotted from the corner of his eye on his rushed trip to the bedroom. A small fireplace affixed one wall in what he expected was a room he did not know the proper name for. It had chairs and a window that was facing what could be considered east on this world. At least, that's where the sun was rising. The coals barely glowed, but Jacob was still careful when he picked up a small black hunk of burnt wood. It was warm but not uncomfortably so. Grinning he turned and placed it in Brea's hand. The look on her face was priceless. He could not put a name to the expression, and he doubted she would be quite able to either. She stood there holding it for a moment and looking at him, trying to figure it out. "Jay-cob," she said, tilting her head to the side and waving the piece of coal at him. He took it back from her, then set it floating between them, she looked from him to the coal, face a mask of patience that her eyes did not quite match. "Close your eyes," Jacob said, doing just that to demonstrate. Brea did so, but peeked out a moment later, closing them again when he shook a finger at her. It was a simple thing. Just a mix of the two things he'd already done, with maybe a little half remembered highschool science thrown in. He crushed the coal with his mind, heating it and forming it into what he wanted it to be. It was fascinating to watch the end result coming into being before his eyes. "Open them Brea," Jacob said, less than a minute later. She did. And gasped as she saw what he'd done. In between them, floating where the coal had been, and in a way still was, was a diamond. An utterly flawless diamond if Jacob had pulled off what he'd been imagining. It tapered towards the top, forming a teardrop. It was not rough like a natural diamond, Jacob had forced it into the shape, imagined the perfect atomic structure, uniform in content. Everything that wasn't pure carbon he'd burned away. She half reached for it, hand frozen mid way, not quite believing what she was seeing. Another new thing. Well I hope they like diamonds as much here. I'll be set for life. He'd made the stone with a hole through the top, a way for it to be attached to a necklace. There was a cord tying back the curtains beside the window that looked like it would work, if a little thick. Again using his mind he untied it, pausing for a moment to think how to cut it free. Well, if the air becoming dense and solid, then... The cord dropped free, dangling from the end he 'held' it with. Okay I know that I don't have a periodic table in my brain, so how exactly did I manage that. Maybe... I just used what was there, but didn't have to know exactly what it was. Jacob brought the cord closer, Brea was still staring at the diamond in amazement, the sunlight had caught it, making even Jacob stunned at the way the stone shined. It took barely a thought to unravel some of the cord to discard, leaving a braided length behind thin enough to attach the diamond to. Brea watched in silence as he threaded the diamond onto the cord. He'd already made sure the diamond was roughly the same temperature as the room. He didn't want to burn or freeze Brea's skin by accident. He held the necklace in his hands now, looking at Brea watching him with a small measure of awe. She was stunning, but the t-shirt did not do her justice. He pulled it off her slowly, and she raised her arms without protest. Nor did she move as he tied the necklace around her neck, draping the stone between her breasts. It was Jacob's turn to be awed. She was stunning. She'd been beautiful in the candlelight, but in the sunlight she robbed him of his breath, stilled his tongue and made his knees weak. "Jay-cob," Brea uttered softly, her hand touching the necklace against her skin, "Jay-cob I-" "Brea," Jacob cut her off, "It's yours. No arguments. I know we barely know each other. I know we can barely understand each other. But you are special to me, and I want you to know that." Then he kissed her. It was full of passion, but without the lust that their previous kisses had held. It was not the promise of something more; it was simply what was, the moment, the feeling between them. Whether she understood his words or not, Jacob was damn sure she understood that kiss. -------- After their kiss Jacob and Brea explored the rooms they'd been too busy the night before to truly appreciate. The rooms were open to each other, there were no doors separating each area from the rest. The room Jacob had decided to call a sun room led directly back into the living area, the bedroom a few short steps away. But it was the last room that was both a surprise and delight. Brea had exclaimed happily when she'd walked in behind him, discovering the gleaming copper bathtub that dominated the room. As ornate as the other décor in the manor, the tub was large enough for two comfortably. The copper had been polished to the point that it worked reasonably well as a mirror, and the surface was flawless, not holding any bumps or imperfections. The metalwork alone made Jacob pause and realise that it either had to be cast whole to be so perfect, or someone had used the telekinetic power to shape it. The fact that it had fully working plumbing was merely a mild surprise after that realisation. Brea took to it all with a familiarity that surprised him, after seeing the farm he didn't think she would be used to running water. And hot water at that. I half expected to be washing from a basin or something. They might not have cars or electricity, at least from what he'd seen, but when Jacob sunk into the water he was pleased they'd managed to work out indoor plumbing. That feeling rose exponentially when Brea slipped her naked form in after him. She lent back against his chest, idly toying with the diamond necklace. "Thankyou Jacob," Brea said, tilting her head back to look up at him. He wrapped his arms around her, running his hands across her stomach, leaving wet trails behind as the water slowly rose around them. "Your welcome Brea," he said, eyes fixed on the water line that was slowly climbing up her beautiful skin towards her breasts. The shifting water made the light reflected from the burnished copper split and shimmer. That alone would have drawn his gaze, but with Brea naked and submersed in that same water burned the sight into his mind. The lust he'd been fighting all morning came back, and promptly pressed itself into her lower back. She shifted when she felt it, looking up at him with that mischievous smile he was beginning to know all too well. "Jay-cob," she said his name with that sultry softness that made him want to rip her clothes off every time. Except when she was already naked; when it just made him want to throw her onto a bed and keep her there for a few hours. Her hand found him beneath the water, stroking him. His breath caught, as she bit her lip watching his reaction, feeling him jerk slightly at her touch. Clearly I need to consider that this might be the afterlife. God she is beautiful. Jacob turned the taps off, and returned his hands to her body. Her breasts were floating slightly in the water, thrust up by the way her hand was curled behind her back. They felt soft, warm and wet beneath his hands; her nipples jutted out from the water, hard from her arousal or the air, either way she shivered in pleasure when he rubbed them. Her fingers fuelled his passion for her, his desire to see her moan and writhe. She did moan when he kissed her neck, rolling her nipples between his fingers as he pressed his mouth hungrily into her. She pulled away, turning quickly in the bath, water splashing carelessly over the side. Her lips found his as she turned to face him, her hand a blur beneath the water. "Brea," Jacob moaned into her mouth, "Oh god that's good." His hands ran down her sides, her breasts momentarily forgotten as he twitched beneath her touch. Her tongue flicked between his lips, before she pulled back from him, green eyes staring into his own as she leaned back, still stroking him. "Jay-cob," she said again, her tongue licking her lips as she stopped stroking, instead pulling on him steadily. "You want me to stand," Jacob guessed from the way she was trying to drag him out of the water by his manhood. She bit her lip at the sight of him standing above her, water flowing down his body and back into the tub. Her hand stayed wrapped around him, not letting him escape as she knelt in the water in front of him. She looked up at him with her green eyes, hand moving up and down his shaft, her small fingers looking so tiny wrapped around his straining erection. Jacob closed his eyes, revelling in the sensations emanating from his groin, groans coming to his lips unheeded. So it came as a complete surprise when he felt her mouth on him, her lips and tongue trailing up and down. "Brea," Jacob uttered, stiffening his suddenly weak knees. His hands found her head of their own accord, trailing lightly through her hair as he looked down at her. She stared back at him, watching the expressions he made, the desire for her that kept building. His desire wasn't the only thing that was building. She grew bolder with her actions, slipping his cock into her mouth, her hand stroking his shaft as her lips and tongue played across the head. Every time she looked up at him he felt himself jerk, something she noticed too. Her other hand had crept down between her own legs and she moaned with him in her mouth. The sight of her playing with herself, enjoying herself licking and sucking on his cock quickly became too much for Jacob. "Brea, I'm, going, to," Jacob gasped out between laboured breaths. She moaned in response before pulling back, her hands moving faster. "Jay-cob," she moaned, body shuddering as she looked up at him, eyes pleading. He let loose with a groan, his orgasm taking all the strength in his legs with it. He shook and forced himself to stay upright as white fluid flew past Brea and well over the edge of the tub. The next spurts were closer, but only the last fell on Brea, dropping onto her chest as she leaned back to watch. Jacob lowered himself back into the tub, legs wobbling. Brea was laughing at him. "Hey, if I remember correctly you were even worse last night, so hush," Jacob said to her when he got his bearings once more. Brea merely grinned back at him, before looking down to where he'd sprayed her chest. There wasn't much there, and Jacob wondered where exactly the rest had ended up. Clearly Brea had the same thought; she turned around to look behind her, pointing it out to him when she spotted it. "That's your fault you know," Jacob said, following where she was pointing to find the furthest deposit a few metres away. They managed to finish up their bath without making a bigger mess of the room, and Jacob managed to get enough strength back in his legs to stand again. Brea had a boundless energy that had her up and about while he was still shaking the post orgasm haze from his mind. Although seeing her naked form as she dried herself and bent over to clean up the floor helped. When she saw him staring she darted out of the room quickly, before poking her head back in to smile at him while shaking her head. "Okay fine, no more. But later on I'm going to make you scream you little minx," Jacob said, only mildly regretful, his legs weren't quite up to it just yet.