[ River is about as non-plussed by that gun as possible, giving a half shrug at it before refocusing her attention on Elizabeth. They're both actually fascinating in their own ways, entwined but not, similar but not. Trying to follow the threads of it in her head makes her dizzy and River sways a little in place before she remembers the horizon is there to center her mind.
Maybe she should've brought someone along with her. Ned or Charles or Erik. Even Zatanna might be better at this. But, here she is and here they are so they might as well get down to business. Business being information, that is. ]
He means who are you and what the hell and should I waste the bullet? River suggests not; making new ones seems an expensive but not impossible endeavor, but they aren't just laying around either.
An experiment. You know. [ She gives Elizabeth a pointed look. ] Under glass and under observation, marked and tracked and tagged and changed. People come, people are taken away; sometimes they come back, sometimes they go home, sometimes they return, sometimes there is no home to go back to. Sometimes we don't know. Isolated moment in time in a timestream moving out of control. Here is the current hypothesis held by one: it's gotten out of hand, they can't stop the inflow-outflow but, but, there's no proof.
It's all just theory.
What is known, what can be proven and collaborated by the others, tagged and trapped to is this: we don't know how we got here. We don't know how to get home. Our captors don't show their faces, people are taken from their beds, sometimes they return and sometimes they don't. Time moves strangely. Uncertainty lies on whether or not we're on Earth, another planet. Different realities and histories and points in time converge amongst those trapped here. What's future to one is past to another, what's fact to one is fiction to another.
Once there were half to a hundred of us, and now it's dwindled. A dozen and a dozen and not quite a dozen again.
no subject
Maybe she should've brought someone along with her. Ned or Charles or Erik. Even Zatanna might be better at this. But, here she is and here they are so they might as well get down to business. Business being information, that is. ]
He means who are you and what the hell and should I waste the bullet? River suggests not; making new ones seems an expensive but not impossible endeavor, but they aren't just laying around either.
An experiment. You know. [ She gives Elizabeth a pointed look. ] Under glass and under observation, marked and tracked and tagged and changed. People come, people are taken away; sometimes they come back, sometimes they go home, sometimes they return, sometimes there is no home to go back to. Sometimes we don't know. Isolated moment in time in a timestream moving out of control. Here is the current hypothesis held by one: it's gotten out of hand, they can't stop the inflow-outflow but, but, there's no proof.
It's all just theory.
What is known, what can be proven and collaborated by the others, tagged and trapped to is this: we don't know how we got here. We don't know how to get home. Our captors don't show their faces, people are taken from their beds, sometimes they return and sometimes they don't. Time moves strangely. Uncertainty lies on whether or not we're on Earth, another planet. Different realities and histories and points in time converge amongst those trapped here. What's future to one is past to another, what's fact to one is fiction to another.
Once there were half to a hundred of us, and now it's dwindled. A dozen and a dozen and not quite a dozen again.