Prologue

[faentasy]

PROLOGUE

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The clink of glasses, the clatter of utensils upon plates and the soft murmur of conversation flows smoothly in the warmly lit dining hall. It's a dinner party, a rather vivacious one at that, with the food flowing freely. Savory and sweet, regional specialties, refined and rustic, there's something for everyone. Omurice, chiffon cake, kimchi, sizzling porterhouse steaks—it might be more apt to call it a buffet than anything else.

Do buffets usually serve such a unique smorgasbord of food? And actually, weren't you doing something else? A free meal is usually a good thing but is anything truly free? Who are these people around you? And where exactly are you?

Whatever thoughts are racing through your mind, they're abruptly cut off by a note, high pitched G-sharp from a woodwind. All your senses return to you, though they won't tell you much. Maybe not all of them actually, if you're used to feats of heroic strength or manipulating reality or numerous other abilities. There is one clue at least, a heavy weighted paper beneath your plate, an embossed note rather than a list of courses.

"Enjoy yourselves. I'll come see you when you've had your fill. And don't try to dine and dash, huh? There's something I have—something I can do for you, after all. Besides, you've already agreed to the terms anyway!"

Welcome to your Fairy Tale.

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Comments

[heroicact]

That we do have in common as well, even if we may not agree on other things... Of course you know our names already, but I am "just Jack", as well, especially here.

[He seems pleased enough with this, in an odd way: their lives may cost quite a few things here, but civility is free, for now. He shakes his head, slowly, looking down at himself with the same sort of confounded wonder from when he first got here. It's brief, but emphatic.]

... Books can help, certainly, but my life has been stranger than fiction for a good long time now. Or maybe it's more accurate to say it's practically a work of fiction at this point? That's what happens when you get old...

[Stop talking like a grandpa, Jack.]

You do seem to be a teller of tales yourself, though.

[begrimed]

Nothing to do with the beanstalk, I know, but that ain't my house either way.

[ He inclines his head at the rest and seemingly isn't in a hurry to rush this old man along in his nostalgia. ]

I can be, but I consider myself more of an actor? I'm more of the action than the narrator in my usual line of work.

[heroicact]

Aha, should I ask about the beanstalk? I can't say I've ever had a green thumb in my lifetime or in any house.

[Does. Does Jack and the Beanstalk exist in his universe we just don't know....... at the least there is a giant here somewhere but McGillis probably doesn't deserve this unasked for fairy tale parallel nor the has-bean tales of the world.

A soft tilt of his head, either thoughtful or just befuddled in the midst of his old man musings.]

Ah, but here -- here you seem much more the narrator. Did you tire of your former role, or are we just so compelling?

[begrimed]

You can, but like I said that's not my house.

[ Whatever that means, but maybe this subject might be more suited not during... all of this. ]

I'll never say no to something new. Where's the fun in that?

[heroicact]

Then I wonder to whom, or to what house, I should pose the question.

[That one is rhetorical, so either he might roll back to it at some point later with Hamelin himself or he might see how much he can find elsewhere. They do still have an entire outside to explore, once they're released from all this.

For whatever that brings them. He doesn't seem too concerned about that yet; things here are tangled enough.]

Well, I would say this isn't the type of thing most people would do on a whim. But as I thought, you aren't most people, so...