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She wonders if Coin would be late to fewer things if she gave her a teleportation power.
She's saying so, to Sherlock.
And then instead of the ruins of flooded Europe she's in a featureless white room facing some grumpy person in a blue robe, wearing everything she was wearing, less her coin bandolier but including her crown, and something's wrong, her thoughts are slow and won't speed up, her memory's as slippery as it ever was before she met Stella, and how did she get here, why doesn't the brainphone work, where's Sherlock?
Where are her coins? Where's her magic? She can't teleport either, not even across the room - she bites her lip just a little and she can't even remember how moving pain left to right is a thing and it goes right on stinging without regenerating -
Where is she?
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arenaria
arenaria
"A suici-" Bell stops.
She looks at the apartment. She imagines Sherlock's thoughts as they would've appeared back when she could call for them to scroll by, quick intimate displays of inmost self. Sherlock would have held herself so still, and then -
She wouldn't leave Tony alone.
She would fix the problem.
"No. I don't think so. I'll check but I don't think so. You told me there's no way to leave Downside. What would happen if someone tried to pull me out anyway, very hard with a lot of magic?"
Because stars didn't work.
But Bell had said, directly to Sherlock, that she didn't know about evils.
Bell thinks she might know about evils now.
"Could she have gotten a live version of me - a real back-from-the-dead version - and could I be stuck here as a - an alternate version of that one, regardless?" She swallows. "And she wouldn't know that I split, and she'd have an alive one of me - and she'd stop mourning. And no one else would even find out. I suppose they'd tell Tony but maybe only after the fact. My parents would never know, certainly."
She looks at the apartment. She imagines Sherlock's thoughts as they would've appeared back when she could call for them to scroll by, quick intimate displays of inmost self. Sherlock would have held herself so still, and then -
She wouldn't leave Tony alone.
She would fix the problem.
"No. I don't think so. I'll check but I don't think so. You told me there's no way to leave Downside. What would happen if someone tried to pull me out anyway, very hard with a lot of magic?"
Because stars didn't work.
But Bell had said, directly to Sherlock, that she didn't know about evils.
Bell thinks she might know about evils now.
"Could she have gotten a live version of me - a real back-from-the-dead version - and could I be stuck here as a - an alternate version of that one, regardless?" She swallows. "And she wouldn't know that I split, and she'd have an alive one of me - and she'd stop mourning. And no one else would even find out. I suppose they'd tell Tony but maybe only after the fact. My parents would never know, certainly."
"...I don't know," says the guide. "It would explain your apartment, but... I've never heard of magic that could do that."
arenaria
"I had a lot of magic. Sherlock made most of it. If I died of course she'd try. And if this looks like my dying made someone extremely upset for a very short period - then until Sherlock shows up, which she may never do, that's my guess."
Bell draws her knees up to her chin at the edge of the bedspread. "So she'll be fine. And Tony will be fine. And my empire will be fine. And - and I'm never going to see them again, because they don't know I need to be gotten and they're going to live forever."
Bell draws her knees up to her chin at the edge of the bedspread. "So she'll be fine. And Tony will be fine. And my empire will be fine. And - and I'm never going to see them again, because they don't know I need to be gotten and they're going to live forever."
"I'm sorry," says the guide.
arenaria
Bell wipes a tear away from the corner of one eye. "Not your fault. As far as I know."
She's going to go to the library, once she has a contractor sorted out, and she's going to read about the "administration".
Her hand strokes along the bedspread. Sherlock made this for me. She made all of this for me. Probably in less than a minute.
She's going to go to the library, once she has a contractor sorted out, and she's going to read about the "administration".
Her hand strokes along the bedspread. Sherlock made this for me. She made all of this for me. Probably in less than a minute.
She nods.
"Any more questions?"
"Any more questions?"
arenaria
"All of the questions. What else do you think I ought to know before I so much as make a trip to the library? What won't I find in the library that you can tell me? Will everyone speak English, or appear to?"
"English has been the common language here for a while, but that might change, and if it stays changed for long enough you'll have to learn the new one," she shrugs. "Judges can imprint languages on people, and they give everyone the most commonly spoken language at their time of arrival, unless they already have it."
She thinks, then shakes her head.
"That's what they pay me for," she says wryly. "Good luck."
And she goes.
And she goes.
arenaria
Bell takes careful, loving inventory of the apartment Sherlock made for her. It's furnished and decorated and surprisingly stocked - soap in the bathroom, food in the kitchenette. She wonders if that gets replaced or if she has to buy more. There is apparently currency here and the library will be able to tell her more about how to get it.
One thing she knows she's going to do is keep this apartment Sherlock made for her utterly spotless.
And then, trying to look as uninteresting as possible, she goes back to the station to find the Crescent.
One thing she knows she's going to do is keep this apartment Sherlock made for her utterly spotless.
And then, trying to look as uninteresting as possible, she goes back to the station to find the Crescent.
The Crescent has its own station; the stairs take her directly to the lobby of the building, where a receptionist with her hair in a rainbow of tiny braids sitting behind a large wooden desk and another woman sitting on the desk are carrying on an animated conversation. The rest of the room is sparsely but nicely furnished—there's a waiting area with several chairs and a small table. There are no windows, but the front doors are made of glass; they look out on a wide expanse of dusty gravel, like a raw construction site.
When Bell comes out of the stairwell, the woman sitting on the desk glances at her and smiles. "Looks like we've got a fresh one," she says amicably.
When Bell comes out of the stairwell, the woman sitting on the desk glances at her and smiles. "Looks like we've got a fresh one," she says amicably.
arenaria
"I - just died, yes," says Shell Bell. "My guide said I would be able to find a - a contractor here."
"Yep!" says the friendly woman, hopping off the desk. "What's your number?"
arenaria
She recites it from memory, although she does glance at her file to confirm that she got it right. She did.
She nods at the folder Bell is carrying. "That your papers? Lemme see."
arenaria
Bell hands them over. "My guide couldn't tell me what anything after the first page meant. Can you?"
"Yep," she says, and opens the folder.
"...Wow, you kidnapped a lot of people," she says, surprised. "Like, a lot."
"...Wow, you kidnapped a lot of people," she says, surprised. "Like, a lot."
arenaria
"...I put a city on the moon?" Bell offers. "I didn't, like, evict anyone from their actual home, I just - moved the homes. It was the best thing to do - the culture was utterly toxic."
She snorts.
"Now there's an interesting solution. Well, looks like I've got a date with Chainsaw in the near future." She closes the folder and hands it back. "Bell, huh? Lucky you, nobody'll say boo if you keep it. I'm Eights."
"Now there's an interesting solution. Well, looks like I've got a date with Chainsaw in the near future." She closes the folder and hands it back. "Bell, huh? Lucky you, nobody'll say boo if you keep it. I'm Eights."
"The name. It sounds just fine for Downside."
arenaria
"I usually went by Shell Bell." Pause. "So if I'm understanding you correctly you personally are going to take my, er, sentence, which is largely for putting the Capitol on the moon? ...I am glad that this doesn't seem to bother you."