Under a Killing Moon [Leeroy]

[Prudence Chamberlain]

Country: Southwest England, United Kingdom
Area/Setting: The Traveller's Place Inn and the surroundings in the town of Burnham-on-Sea
Current Time: Just after dusk
Weather Conditions: Still, clear conditions


Her eyes were showing a slight redness, and her hands were still shaking slightly in the pockets of the long coat that she wore. With one hand, she could feel the crisp envelope that followed her around, and the other barely reached into the pocket, avoiding the contents as best as she could. Her feet were bare, as she was forced to dispose of her shoes, one thing that she wasn’t too upset with, as they had been very uncomfortable to wear.

Just before the sun fell below the horizon, she knew that she would need to read the message that she had acquired and with the things that she had done already, she was worried about anything that could be worse, she let a slight gasp of air out. Tasting the grape taste of wine hitting her mouth again, she felt a tinge of guilt, but she knew that nothing could be changed to make the circumstances better, so she pulled out the envelope from her pocket and threw it into her lap scattering the sprinkling of sand that lay there.

In the envelope there was only a quantity of money and a single sheet of paper containing a map, and address, and a short message written out on underneath the typewritten address, “Someone here will given you further instructions in time.” She couldn’t help but think that the message was far to vague to understand, but she knew where she had to get going, so she got up of the cool sands, brushing off the stubborn grains before tugging her coat around her body as if in a deep embrace.

She only made one stop on the way to the destination and that was to stop in a back alley way to burn the instructions as she had done so many times before, the smoke began to spill from the trash can just as the sun fell from the sky and behind the horizon, she left the fire burning and went on her way.

The address had lead her to a small inn in the town, and she went in neglecting details, likely a stupid move on her part, but her head was still throbbing slightly from the drinking she had been doing earlier. She saw one woman in the Lobby of the building and went up to the woman. She made a quick, rehearsed statement to the woman before starting to look around as her vision cleared itself. “I have a room reserved,” she said as had been many times before. She continued saying, “It’s under the name Ms. Prudence Chamberlain.” She waited for a response from the woman while she desperately hoped that she had not made any stupid mistakes yet.

[Leeroy Atherton]

In life, there comes a time when something so foreign to what we believe, what we acknowledge exists, ends up on our doorstep without explanation. To some, fate draws these incidences almost naturally; to some, it is as rare as being struck by lightning. It was the literal doorstep upon which Miss Chamberlain had found herself, and one that led into the (usual) domain of a certain woman. Not just any woman, either - a work-oriented, no-nonsense Romanichal, who lived, all things considered, a rather ordinary life. She was one of those who had the odd lightning bolt strike in her life.

The inn's check-in area was simple, the bar just around the nearby bend, along with the stairs leading up to the rooms. A door a few feet across from the desk was where Prudence had entered, with coat racks on either side, and an old rug for wiping feet. At an equally old oak desk, a short, blond woman stood, searching for the room reserved for the young woman. Through her rounded, dark-rimmed glasses, she quickly scanned each page for the name given, silent as a mouse - when she could not find Prudence's name in the books, she frowned.

"I bizt zorry, Mizz Chamberlain," said the blonde in a thick, almost German-esque accent. It was typical of the West Country region, which Burnham-on-Sea was part of, and reminiscent of the Anglo-Saxons who had once called England home. They had come from what was now the land of England's enemy, and their descendant's manner of speech in that area shared many linguistic tendencies with those of the German people. "There bizt no one ov that name with a rezervation. We bizt 'avin' a vew roomz levt, 'owever - would 'ee like to bizt rentin' one for the night?"

Just then, Leeroy happened to walk around the bend, looking slightly more tired than usual. She had just come from the bar area, which had been temporarily closed off to the public; a certain gaggle of soldiers had done several hundred pounds worth of damage a week before. Monty, after leaving a family gathering when he heard of the incident, was wise enough to ban the men from entering his inn again, but there was still work to be done. Leeroy, no stranger to heavy lifting from being a Land Girl, was busy hauling in new tables and chairs to replace the old, as well as shooing out anyone who came in for a drink. Couldn't the local drunk gits go somewhere else for a drink, as traitorous as the thought was to the Traveller? They were only getting in the way, and there was work to be done!

Despite being tired, Leeroy was still sharp enough to note how shoddy the woman looked - no doubt Rosy, the desk woman, could see it as well. Prudence's eyes were reddened, and a slight, watery cast glossed over them, as if she had gotten something in them. Her coat was sandy, her hair ruffled and windblown, and her feet were shoe-less and covered in grit. Leeroy was tempted to ask the young lady if she was all right, but held her tongue, waiting for a moment where it would be better to ask. Perhaps nothing was wrong at all, and Miss Chamberlain had simply gone for a shoreline walk, loosing her shoes in the process? A strange-sounding theory, but strong in likely probability, as the beaches at low tide produced a sticky, foot-trapping muck.

[Prudence Chamberlain]

The woman at the desk had begun to frown and explained that she could not find the name inside the registry. Prudence began to worry about her reason for coming, but was calmed when the blonde, uniformed lady mentioned that there were rooms available for the night. Rationalizing more efficiently, Prudence realized that this was probably the reason for the money that was in the envelope, so she reached into her pocket and began trying to get the clasp on the envelope to open again. While attempting this, Prudence answered the query of the woman saying, “Yes, I’ll have a room, I suppose.”

The clasp broke off the envelope and fell to the bottom of her pocket just as she finished saying this, but it wasn’t a problem, as she could now get to the money inside. She could feel three stacks, each wrapped in a thin banner to hold the bills in place. Grabbing one, Prudence placed it onto the counter in front of the blonde woman. “How many nights can I stay with this amount?” She couldn’t tell the denominations of the bills at the time so she hoped that she hadn’t pulled out a ludicrous amount. When trying to remember what the amounts were, she remembered that it wasn’t too important at the time and that she had just glazed over the amount, dismissing it as just being money.

The eyes of the women at the desk widened a bit as if surprised with the amount that had just been laid down, but not as if it was the first time that the amount had sat on the counter in front of her. Noticing this, Prudence realized that she would probably have to be staying here for a bit. It didn’t matter much to her though, as she didn’t have anywhere important to go.

The bumping of tables behind her startled Prudence, and she turned around quickly to notice a strong-looking woman moving furniture out of a side room from the lobby. Looking into the dark room, Prudence could make out that it was a bar, but it was looking slightly torn up inside as if it had suffered a major beating from rowdy users. The woman moving furniture looked slightly flustered by her situation, likely upset about the condition of the bar which was assumably her own workplace.

[Leeroy Atherton]

Although Leeroy hid her surprise better than Rosy did, both women were still surprised by the amount placed on the desk. In terms of pounds, there was enough to stay for nearly two months - one room was only a couple of crowns and a florin each night. Was there really any need for surprise, though? Burnham-on-Sea was a spot for tourists, with the huge mudflats that were a bane to many boats, and as the home of Britain's shortest pier. Who was to say that some rich and fancy upper-class man had let his daughter go on a little vacation, or that the young woman was on some sort of medical leave, and had saved up enough to spoil herself?

"Eight weekz," stated Rosy, "is what 'ee bizt buyin' with that amount. 'Ee be 'avin' a gurt amount of time on 'ee's 'ands - zomething zpecial, madame?"

But if she was a girl of noble blood, why such a poor appearance? Had she gone and blown off her father's money on trinkets and treats, or possibly even drinking, as her eyes and slight stagger indicated? Or maybe...a thief? No, no - what was Leeroy thinking? She couldn't just think of the worse things that every stranger could be now - it was ludicrous! The stress from the recent bar brawl must have been getting to her...the night hadn't been the most shining moment of her career. In fact, there were a lot of those, and she hated adding more to her quota of humiliation. It was a good thing she wasn't a drinker - otherwise, she might be drowning herself in pints when everything was over with!

"We only bizt 'avin' vive roomz levt, and they bizt moztly overlookin' the ztreets," continued Rosy, pulling out the money tin beneath the desk, which had three different padlocks on it. "'Ee may pick whatever 'ee bizt likin'. The bar and dining area bizt clozed ovv temporarily, but 'ee bizt ztill able to order room zervice. An' 'ee bizt needin' anything, Leeroy?"

The Romanichal's attention was immediately caught by the sound of her name. "Oh yez - zorry Rozy. Do 'ee know where the zpare vinish be at? Zome o' the rough-houzin' a-took the polish a-right ovv the wallz."

"Bizt tryin' the attic, Leeroy," replied Rosy, turning back to Prudence so she could finish attending to the woman. Leeroy made a beeline for the stairs in the back, heading for the attic for the elusive tins of wood finish.

[Prudence Chamberlain]

While Prudence was turned from the woman at the counter, she could see a slight response drag out from the woman who had been moving furniture as the money on the desk became noticed. As the woman at the desk got over her brief moment of shock, she began to talk in a heavy accent, a hefty thing for Prudence to try to make out on top of the alcohol that was washing through her system. From what was said, she heard that she would be allowed to stay for eight weeks. Although she could not interpret what was said after that, she was busy thinking of the eight long weeks that would come.

After a brief pause from the woman, Prudence realized that she had asked a question, but before her own mind and mouth could formulate an idea for something to respond with, the woman continued on apparently noticing that no sufficient answer was on its way. The woman’s accent faded slightly as she spoke this time, likely deciding that it could have been the intonation that confused Prudence. After explaining the room availability and difficulties facing in-hotel dining, the woman directed some speech towards the woman that had moved towards the desk after moving a piece of furniture across the space.

Prudence’s mind faded from the conversation during their interchange. Although she had not noticed it at first, as soon as the woman who was moving the furniture – Prudence caught that her name was Leeroy – began to head towards the stairs, Prudence snapped out of the trance and looked towards the awaiting desk worker and said, “Any room is fine, I just need to get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

Although the desk worker looked slightly offset by the choice, she had picked up a key in a short time and said something to compliment the room that it went with. “That sounds just fine,” said Prudence as she held out her hand for the key that was placed in it in moments. The cool brass surface of the key felt fairly warm to her frigid hands and she gripped it tightly.

As Prudence began towards the main stairs of the lobby, the woman at the desk bid her a good night’s rest. In response, Prudence made a sort of slight grunting noise, intending for it to be a reply. Although the woman at the desk appeared to be a bit unsettled by the murmuring, she disguised it with a happy hospitality industry countenance as she turned back towards some other work.

Once reaching the top of the stairs, Prudence realized that she had not checked to see what number the room was. Bringing the key up closer to her face, she was sad to see that the rooms were not given numbers, but instead given names, as could be deduced easily by the elegant scrawl on the key which stated “Jazz Suite” in shimmering letters. As there wasn’t going to be another way to find the room, she began to wander the building in a search for it.

[Leeroy Atherton]

Leeroy grunted as she pushed a table into place, wiping her forehead with one arm as she leaned on said table. The night was going to be a long one; there was still a lot of re-organizing to do, despite the steady progress she and the rest were making. So much damage, done in such a short span of time...such destruction disgusted the stern door supervisor. Whether it was a broken table or broken bones, things took too long to mend anymore - the war was taxing on all the country's resources, from medicines to food supplies. Those soldiers, acting like spoilt children, and who were probably quite spoiled themselves when off duty! Well, the officers, at least. The upper crust always seemed to get the best of everything, leaving the lower-ranking men to be treated as lesser beings. Leeroy could not help but feel a pang of sympathy for the common enlisted man; some of these boys had succumbed to conscription, and hadn't wanted to fight in the war at all.

Still, duty was duty, and as long as they were fighting for king and country, they better well do a good job of it. Speaking of duty, Leeroy had dawdled around enough, and it was time to go back to work. However, after taking only a couple of steps towards a nearby chair, a voice caught her attention.

"Excuze me, Mizz, but thiz area be off limitz. We are tryin' to be vixin a couple of things up."

That was Aaron's voice, no doubt about it. The old veteran stood tall over the woman Leeroy had seen at the desk; she looked lost. Rosy had probably forgotten to tell the girl where her room was...that, or the young lass was too drunk to be coherent, and possibly wanted more to drink. With a quiet sigh, Leeroy strode over to the pair, a neutral but firm expression on her face. If her latter assumption was correct, then the young lady would be, quite happily, turned away and sent to her rented chambers.

"Ah, Leeroy," said Aaron good-naturedly, turning to face his co-worker. "Good to be zeein' ya. Thiz lil' lady be lookin' a bit lozt...might 'ee be able to be 'elpin' her?"

"Certainly," replied Leeroy, turning to Prudence with a polite smile. "What can I bizt 'elpin' 'ee with, ma'am?"

[Prudence Chamberlain]

Prudence had been fruitlessly wandering through the hallways of the hotel in search of the Jazz Suite for what seemed to her to have been more than enough time to justify asking for help. After making this decision, she came to the realization that the alcohol had fogged up her recollection enough that she could not call to mind the way that she had gotten to her current location. She cursed quietly to the empty hallway before turning around in an attempt to make her way back. The task at hand was to think of the best method for getting to the lobby. All she could remember with complete confidence was the fact that the lobby had been on the first floor. She stated her plan aloud to the empty corridor hoping that it would help it stick in her mind, “I’m going to the nearest stairwell, to get downstairs.”

It wouldn’t be long before Prudence was on her way down a set of stairs. The plan she had come up with earlier had escaped her mind, but she was sure she had to get to the main floor for something very important. Upon reaching the final landing, she realized that she needed to figure out what it was that she had to do and a worried expression overtook her face.

Currently, she stood at one end of a narrow hallway. Up ahead a short distance was a doorway and instead of noting any more details of the room, she quickly made her way through that doorway as she had decided that nothing was going to be done without at least some movement. She quickly passed through the door and ran into a wall on the other side. After falling to the ground, she realized that she had actually crashed into a person. A tall man had bent down to give her a hand at getting up. Once she was back on her feet, the man informed her that the area she had come into was supposed to be off limits due to repairs. Prudence realized her mistake wondering where she had wandered. Shakily and with a slightly quieter tone, she began to apologize, “I’m sorry, sir. I just—,” but she couldn’t remember why she had shown up.

A woman came up next to the man, looking intently to Prudence who was currently racking her mind as to who this woman was, as she looked so familiar. The man deferred Prudence to the woman’s care, calling the woman, Leeroy. Prudence couldn’t place this name, but as she was trying to, Leeroy asked how she could help Prudence. This person that she felt that she knew along with both the small crowd she had now formed around her and the fact that she couldn’t remember why she had shown up in the room in the first place had flustered Prudence. She ran her left hand’s fingers through her hair in an attempt to try to bring herself together and heard a jingling noise come from her jacket pocket, which instantly cleared things up. She hastily plummeted her left hand into its respective pocket and removed the key she had received earlier. “Could I— Well, um—,” she spoke, trying to form her thoughts correctly, “I need some help to— I— I can’t seem to find my room. It— It’s the—.” Prudence paused for a second and glanced down at her key before speaking again, “It’s the Jazz Suite.” Looking back up to the pair, she awaited some help with the problem, glad to have figured out what it had been.