#starring: blueheartedmayor | damien truman

[stageplayhero]

@blueheartedmayor cued:

(n.imona prompts)

“ No matter what we do, we can't change the way people see us. ” (Damien, blueheartedmayor, for the disguised Mayor)

Oh, that’s not true. There’s a great deal we can do to change the way people see us. Just look at me!

Mark closes the book he was reading, sending a sympathetic look in the real mayor’s direction. With nowhere else to go, he’s been spending a lot of time in Damien’s office — but it does leave him on edge, and leave him wondering whether those words have hidden meaning.

“Are the journalists running another smear campaign?” He sighs, and folds his hands. “No, we can’t. All we can do is push forward in being true to ourselves, and hope that the right people recognize that.”

[stageplayhero]

Continued from here | @blueheartedmayor

The way the other him insists this 'Mark' might have an involvement in this was doing nothing to change the Mayor's mind and bring a sudden sense of revelation. The Pied Piper could have caused this strange coincidence for all Damien cared. All he wanted to do was figure out why someone thought this practical joke needed to go on as long as it had.

And then the reaction the other him had to the date was so out of left field that Damien found that there was a bigger mystery on his hands. It did explain why the other suit looked nice, but didn't fully match the current fashion trend. He had assumed it was a mockery of Damien's own preferences, but if it was genuinely an article from a 'vintage' era...

"I assure you, the year is correct. Here." Handing over his phone would have been an unneeded culture shock. Fortunately, there was a small desk calendar that could be lifted and offered instead. It fit in the palm of Mark's hand, with a landscape painting on the top half, and the date written out in full on the bottom. While Mark examined that, Damien leaned forward in his chair, resting his left elbow on the sturdy desk and his chin on the hand.

"So you mean to tell me that you were going into your office, something happened, and now you're here? Something isn't adding up here..." Damien was musing out loud, though his next statement returned his attention to the stranger. "Are you implying that, somehow, there's a Mayor that goes by the name of 'Damien' a hundred years ago?" It would truly be impossible if they were the same person - Damien was a rather common name, at least. "I suppose I should remove the logical solution: would walking back out of the office return you to wherever you ought to be?"

Mark isn't panicking. He is definitely not. Well, maybe only a little. And the calendar Damien hands him makes it difficult to deny that the year has changed, for him. Mark accepts it carefully, as if it might blow up in his face, and squints at the date for longer than should have been needed.

"That's… concerning." It's terrifying. Everything he knows is gone, left in the past. He sets the calendar on the desk, and returns his attention to Damien. "I agree. None of this is adding up."

Yes. There was another you a hundred years ago. I don't know how you could possibly exist.

"I am. I'd like to say it's a coincidence, but it's strange that I would end up in your office, specifically." He rubs his eyes. "I'm not entirely convinced that this isn't a dream, anymore."

Walking back out of the office? "I don't know. It's worth a try, though." He stands, and makes his way to the door. It's obviously not his door, and the building beyond is not his City Hall, even when he crosses the threshold. A turn off his head, and - yes, there's the other Damien, still sitting at his desk. Mark quickly steps back into the office and away from the newer environment. Who is doing this? Dark? The Entity? Why would anyone-

"The logical solution doesn't seem to work." He places his hands on the back of the opposite chair to steady himself, but can't sit down, nervous energy spiking. "And I'm assuming if you had the technology to time travel in the future, you would have told me by now." Tapping a finger against the chair, he forces the next words out. "My sister was familiar with the arcane arts. It may seem a ridiculous suggestion that this is the result of magic, but I don't know what else to think."

[stageplayhero]

Continued from here | @blueheartedmayor

Oh... This had certainly lost any sort of humour long ago. As the stranger took in his surroundings, Damien leaned back in his seat with folded arms and a bemused expression. The Mayor’s office had been a target of a fair few pranks over the years, but nothing like this had been attempted before. Needless to say, Damien was not a fan of this.

(He didn’t even play the part right.)

“Right. You don’t mean to ‘intrude’. Yet here you are, dressed as me, acting as me, claiming you are supposed to be me. Alright, ‘Damien’, what brings you all the way here today?  What were you intending to do today? Partake in a photo shoot, mayhaps?” He didn’t need some group of opposition to spark back up the rumours that Damien didn’t do anything as Mayor while ignoring the hours spent trying to run the city as best as he could.

It really isn't difficult to appear confused. Mark is confused. "A what? No. I was intending to look over some new sewer system plans." A photo shoot sounds much more pleasant. And less tedious. "I know what this must seem like, but I'm not lying. This isn't a prank."

His identity may be fake, but there's no intended scheme in his presence, this time. There must be a way to get back, to get out of wherever he's been dropped.

But if Damien exists here, does that mean-? "You don't know a Mark, do you?" He can't keep the trepidation out of his voice. Damien hasn't recognized him as anyone else, though, so it should be fine. He shakes his head with a sigh. "Never mind. You don't have to believe me, but I would appreciate if you told me where I am."

The room is scrutinized again. "And... what year it is?"

[stageplayhero]

By all means, it's rather peculiar. "Damien" might have stepped into the Mayor's office in City Hall, but he would be rather perplexed to discover that not only was it not his office, but there is another Damien sitting behind the ornate desk. The sitting Damien's expression dropped as he tried to wrap his head around this bizarre situation. "If this is some sort of practical joke, it isn't very funny." (blueheartedmayor. Have a Mayor!)

@blueheartedmayor

-

Mark would have to agree. This isn't very funny at all.

To say he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere would be an understatement. He could have handled the complete change of environment, maybe, but the fact that Damien is sitting across from him has him halted in the middle of the room.

That shouldn't be possible. "I was about to say the same thing." He looks over his shoulder, as if his own City Hall would still be there, and then back to Damien with his eyebrows furrowed. "I swear I was about to step into my office."

This office is strange, and has certain objects Mark has never seen before in his life, and its Damien is also very much alive. He might as well make introductions before either of them get too weirded out.

The only problem is that fooling Damien at being Damien was never on his list of things to do when he took over the role.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I'm not even sure what's going on. My name is Damien. I have a suspicion yours might be too?"

[stageplayhero]

Predicament. There isn't really a better word for it. And the thought of what-ifs are unstoppable, the idea that maybe he can't make it back— well, Mark doesn't want to dwell on that. "Thank you. I understand this must be overwhelming for you, as well. I will... do my best to keep my composure, but yes, I'll let you know if it becomes too much."

Damien doesn't ask any questions, and Mark is grateful. Would he have been able to explain the spike of apprehension, if he had? Would he have dragged William's name through the mud again, just to keep up the lie?

This Barnum isn't that Barnum, but Mark can't say that he finds the familiar look comforting. Still, he's only a dog, yes? And seemingly wary of strangers regardless. He can deal with that, he should hope.

"He seems like a trustworthy companion, indeed." He shoots Damien a glance, something like concern twisting his mouth. "I see. Breaks are a difficulty for you then, I take it?" Barnum's presence is enough evidence that this version of Damien is different.

"No worries at all. I'm more accustomed to cats, myself." He's barely finished saying the words before he realizes it's the truth — but a relatively harmless one. He smiles faintly as he adds, "I can certainly understand the bodyguard allegations. Even if he were more relaxed around strangers, the situation must be as strange to him as it is to us." Mark mirrors Damien and crouches down, holding out his hand a respectful distance from the corgi. Why is he nervous?

Damien nodded in understanding. "If you do feel overwhelmed at any point, tell me. There are places we can go that will help lessen the culture shock, such as the nearby park. We may also be able to consider how to help you in this... predicament."

The other's turn and choice of name had the mayor's eyebrows furrow in confusion. William? Who was that? Whoever it was, the name alone brought a hint of fear. A question for another time. It would be unfair to add to the sudden spike of stress.

"This is Barnum. Though he might not look like it, he's a corgi. You could say he's my only reliable companion with how busy I am here. Normally, he's the reason I keep to any sort of break routine while in the office, but mayhaps he thought the sound of voices meant it was a meeting."

Barnum peered up, carefully inspecting the strange before him. He looked like Damien, but the scent was far different. The cologne was wrong, with an underlying smell that Barnum couldn't figure out. Not only that, the voice was strange. He stayed where he was, eyes set on the time traveller.

"I am sorry to say he's not as excitable as other dogs may be. I've joked he is my pint-sized bodyguard with how he behaves around strangers. But there is a way to show you mean no harm." Damien crouched down, waving his hand in a downward motion to encourage the other to do the same. "Hold your hand out to him and let him approach you first. He doesn't like when strangers try to pet him. I find it's better to let him make the first move."

[stageplayhero]

No hidden meaning in his words, then. At least he doesn’t think so. Things have changed so much in the time that Mark’s been… gone? Since he disappeared? But the state of the new telephones fascinate him, as much as they seem to cause trouble for Damien. Think of all he could do with that technology, all that he could—

Well. He’ll have to sort through whatever’s going on here first.

“That sounds very difficult. And people really do believe all of this?” Concern makes its way onto his face the further he skims the newspaper article. “It’s nothing like you.” Like his experiences with the paparazzi. Always reaching for whatever is juicy. He pauses, sharing in the chuckle with a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t think it easy at the time, but now I’m grateful for the slowness. I’m not sure I would be able to keep up with all of your stupefying portable telephones.” How would the Damien he once knew have handled it?

-

While not quite a smear campaign, it was a newspaper article belittling Damien's work in office, instead trying to claim he was inadequate for the post based on him refusing to entertain naysayers at a council meeting.

"It's certainly easier said than done in this day and age," he sighed, passing the folded paper to Mark. "I've told you about the portable telephone devices we have. They have the ability to... Shall we say, share small telegrams to others in an instant. People are able to use this and make baseless accusations that others eat up without investigating the matter themselves. By the time it comes to my attention and I try to rectify the situation, the news has spiralled out of control. There is a difference between sharing an opinion and sharing straight-up lies."

There was a brief pause, before he gave a weak chuckle. "I'm sure it was much easier to circumvent such matters in your time when news moved a little slower, eh?"

[stageplayhero]

-

The act could continue. Mark's cover had not been blown, and the Damien before him was no wiser to the truth. For now, he was safe.

The time traveller's immediate reaction to Damien's offer was understandable. If it had been the other way around - where Damien had travelled back a century - he could manage thanks to the things he has learned over the years. To go forward is unprecedented. There's no gauge for what has and hasn't changed. After all, the last century was one of the most accelerated eras of development and growth in the country. A lot did change.

"It has changed. The buildings in this part of the city would be more akin to the architecture you would be used to, but there are some buildings beyond here that take on a style that may almost seem absurd." That was a good start, hopefully. One step at a time. "There are far more vehicles on the road, and they travel faster. People's sense of fashion is... Well, I suppose the movement started by the flappers helped pave the way for a better chance of expressing oneself through what you wear and how you style your hair."

There was a very slight chance that this was still a very elaborate prank. But now the focus of said prank had shifted from "this is someone sent by those who don't like me as mayor to insult me and everything I stand for" to "this is someone sent by strangers to cause confusion".

"You don't need to apologise, Damien," the modern mayor insisted, slowly rising to his feet. "I'm overdue a break anyway. In fact, my companion who is supposed to be keeping track of that has been neglecting his duties. Barnum? We're going out."

There was a pause. No one came through the doorway. Instead, there was shuffling from behind Damien's desk, just out of view. Then, a small, fluffy, black and tan dog appeared in view as he reviewed the situation. Such a change from what might have been expected, yet there was still a trace of a familiar look.

Absurd buildings? Faster vehicles, unusual fashion? Maybe it isn’t so bad as Damien says. Take the mayor himself, for example: his outfit isn’t the one the past Damien would usually wear, but it doesn’t look that out there.

Is he just trying to assure himself? No. No, definitely not!

“Knowing somewhat what to expect does make me feel better.” Mark glances to the window, beyond which sits an unfamiliar place, an unfamiliar time. “Though I worry it may simply be something I can’t imagine, so nothing I think will prepare me for it.” A more freely expressive fashion… Hm. At least he has something interesting to look forward to. He’d like to ask Damien a million questions, but the less he talks, the less likely it is that he might say something to give himself away. It will be an exercise in keeping his mouth shut. That can’t possibly go wrong.

He nods, accepting Damien’s insistence; although not without a guilty expression. A step away from the chair and Mark is ready to leave. He didn’t get to bring any possessions with him, now that he considers it. This better not be a long stay. It would be preferable to not be as overdue a break as this mayor seemingly is. It’s on the tip of his tongue to politely inquire about Damien’s companion — friend? Secretary? Other?

But the name he calls makes Mark’s borrowed limbs stiffen, and he turns around expecting a hat and moustache. “William?”

Not William. Definitely not William. Now he just looks stupid, staring at a dog like he’s a human ghost. On the bright side: there isn’t an upset colonel in the room? He relaxes with a weak laugh. “I suppose this is another naming coincidence. This little fellow is yours?”

[stageplayhero]

A simple gesture prompted Damien keen insight into what was going on. A politician learns how to read body language as an act of survival. If you can't figure out the intentions beyond a polite voice and kind words, you'll be eaten alive.

The other Mayor's reactions were nothing profound, but they weren't exaggerated. It was a quiet shock, the moment you were told news that would make your stomach plummet like a rock sinking in the water. The way the calendar was carefully returned to its place was evident of his shock.

It wasn't a dream anymore...

"Why my office, indeed..." It was a musing Damien mulled over while the stranger made his way outside of the office. Part of him was almost expecting the other Damien to blink out of existence, but no such thing happened. If he had been sceptical that this was still a practical joke, the other Damien's reaction would have put the final nail in the coffin. That grip on the chair was enough to prove that.

"Your sister studies magic?" Damien blinked, only to shake his head. "Apologies. For a split second, I thought you were trying to insist that your sister performing card tricks had a part to play. We don't have access to any sort of time travel technology, but... I'm not entirely sure how magic would have a part to play. Then again, this is an age where we rely on technology. Mayhaps the connection to magic is stronger in, um, your time in office."

Leaning back in his chair, Damien let out a thoughtful hum. "If it was something like magic that brought you here, then mayhaps it will reactivate at some point. So in that case... Would you like to step outside for a coffee and some fresh air?"

It was only after making the suggestion that Damien realised that it was likely not a good idea. Would that be too much for his visitor to take in?

Did he mess up? Is he caught? Damien’s pause over his purposefully vague allusion to Celine nearly makes him hold his breath, but it means nothing to him. No magic, then. And no danger for Mark, yet. His act of nervousness must be convincing… given that it isn’t an act.

He chuckles. “No, the mention of magic usually confuses people. I shouldn’t have assumed you would know what I’m talking about.” This Damien isn’t the same. That Damien is gone. “There are certainly strange forces where I come from. I simply never expected it to result in this.”

Has reality been disrupted so much that he’s made this big of a jump? Really? He’d like to have a word with whatever or whoever’s behind this. Preferably not nice words.

“I suppose so…” There isn’t any harm in waiting for some reactivation, if there isn’t much either of them can do anyway.

No harm, except for Damien discovering that he isn’t being honest.

“Fresh air would do wonders, I think.” He glances towards the door at the question. A sudden trepidation comes over him. If he could barely handle a calendar, how could he expect to handle the outside world? “Has it changed much, in the past hundred years?”

Maybe it’s a silly question. Mark would think so, if he had an accidental time traveller on his hands. Damien’s office is almost foreign. His clothes, as well.

He knows nothing about this new time. Running is out of the question. He won’t know where to go.

“I’m sorry for imposing on you, truly.” Sighing, the chair is finally released from his death grip as he raises a hand to press to his forehead. “You must be busy enough without all of this to worry you. If there’s anything I can do to… help while I’m here, or make it up to you, please tell me so.”