[party post] she climbed backwards out her window into outside over there.

[beyondriftmods]

Once upon a time, there was an alternate city of Chicago, the lovely people residing in it, and many Rifts placing these people into various different predicaments, spanning from the humorous to the perplexing to the utterly heartbreaking. Wondrous different people, of all shapes and sizes. So it has been, and so it will be, for years and lifetimes

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[handswillwork]

On the fourteenth, Abby meets a strange old woman in the park, offers her a warm drink and some of her sandwich, and takes a little of her aches and pains away

[lefttogive]

John will be stumbling on Abby while she's walking barefoot across a parking lot. He'd been speaking on his cellphone, a little distracted as he did so, but it would be impossible to miss her as it's very strange.

He stops in his tracks, tells the person on the other line he'll be calling them later.

"I--" he looks around to see if anyone else has noticed her. "I'm sorry, Miss. Did someone steal your shoes?"

He only asks this because it's happened to him before. He has walked around Chicago with only one shoe, though she is walking without both of them, and that cannot be comfortable.

[handswillwork]

She's almost across when he speaks to her, and she looks up but doesn't stop walking. She shakes her head, trying to give him a smile even while she's blinking against the tears in her eyes.

She would explain, but she's not allowed to talk until she's across, so she just tries to give off the impression that everything is fine without words. It doesn't come across all that well, but she does her best.

[lefttogive]

It does not come across well at all, no. John's guardian instincts are kicking into gear. Not that he wouldn't be worried about her without them, as this is vaguely worrying, and she looks like she might cry.

He's going to wait for her at the other end, arms folded across his chest, the concern plain on his face.

[handswillwork]

As soon as she has both feet on the grass at the other end, she falls to her hands and knees with a loud, wordless cry. She knows she's being watched, but she doesn't look up for a minute, getting herself under control before she moves.

When she feels like she won't start crying when she talks, she shifts very carefully so that she's sitting in the grass, careful to keep the soles of her feet from touching anything -- they're bright, raw red, and crossed with cuts and blisters from some of the other tasks she's done.

"I'm all right," she offers after she's settled herself, wiping her eyes and the drops of blood off her lip with her sleeve. She means it, too -- it hurts, but it's worth it. She just keeps telling herself that. It helps. "I -- There's kind of a long story to go with this."

[lefttogive]

John's going to try and move over to her, reaching out so she doesn't fall to her knees. The cry makes him wince, sends the concern flooding through his chest, and he will be kneeling down next to her, a hand hesitantly on her back. He doesn't know what's going on, but he's overprotective to an extent, whether it's a stranger or a member of his family.

"Jesus," he breathes out once he looks at her feet, the urge to fix it strong within him.

"I got time, if you'd like to tell me it. I'd like to help if I can. You mind if I get that checked out?" he asks, motioning to her feet. It looks like it hurts, and he's not inclined to leave her here.

Apologies, Abby.

[handswillwork]

She appreciates the hand on her back; it helps her center, helps her calm herself down and get through it. If she knew him at all, she would be all but collapsed into him by now, but as it is, she just leans back a little more against the hand, seeking comfort where it's offered.

She shakes her head, smiling a little at him. She understand that need to fix things very well, can read his expression because she's intimately familiar with the notion, and even if she didn't need it -- which she probably does -- she's not likely to stop him.

"Well, it starts with an old woman who turned out to be a faerie," she says, and then laughs. "Which makes it sound like I stumbled out of Beauty and the Beast or something, but it's true. I gave her some of my lunch and apparently she likes me for helping her."

[lefttogive]

John would know if the hand, the gesture itself, was making it worse. He's perceptive, and he brings her closer with his hand still on her back, in case she needs the support. He may be a stranger, but he's not a callous one, and she just practically burned her feet.

"Hey, you're not going to get a crazy look from me. Everything about this week seems like something out of one of those movies. I just walked past a dude in a carriage from the 18th century," he says, and it's mostly his way of trying to alleviate the heavy moment, before he glances back at her with concern.

"And this is her way of showing you she likes you? That's a little uncalled for."

[handswillwork]

"Well, if anywhere feels like you've stepped into a storybook, it's Chicago, with the Rift acting up all the time and wanderers wanting to go home," she points out with a little bit of a laugh. "Maybe the city has decided to embrace it fully?"

She shakes her head quickly. "No, that's not -- She can do things, you know? She can do these amazing things, she can help more people than I ever could, and she's letting me -- Somebody stood up and walked. Every time I took a step, somebody who shouldn't be able to use their legs stood up." She sounds awed while she explains it, humbled. She still can't believe she's been granted this chance, can't believe all the people she can help, thanks to this bargain. "If somebody's willing to pay a price for it, she can help so many people."

[lefttogive]

"It would be just like it to throw that kind of curveball," he says with an amused smirk. It's subdued in favor for concern, but he can find the humor in it, if one looks at it through a certain light. "Let's just hope it's not a permanent thing."

John observes her as she speaks. There's a newfound respect for her, without knowing her at all. "Did she tell you the extent of this price?" he asks. If someone had come to him with that kind of bargain, he can't say he would've turned it down, either, but it's also cruel. "And does it mean you can't take care of your feet now? 'Cause I'd hate to leave you here on the sidewalk. In fact, I really don't think I can."

[handswillwork]

"No, but at least it doesn't seem to be doing too much that's too bad?" she points out with a small smile. "I mean... it's weird, but it's also been kind of nice, compared to what it could do."

She shakes her head. "No, I can fix them up now that I'm done. And it depends. She tells me the task and she tells me what I get for it and if I can't do it, that's been okay so far...." It's the one part she sounds a little uncertain on, not because she doesn't trust the faerie -- Abby trusts way too easily, and the woman's been so good to her with all this -- but because she's worried she might prove herself to be somehow not good enough if she says no to too much. "But if I can, I get whatever was promised for it."