2019-05-22 - A Likely Story

In the upstairs of the bookstore in the occult and Am-I-Crazy section, Easton sits in a large leather chair with a stack of books on tables on either side of him and one on the coffee table in front of him. There is an eclectic selection from local myths, to tarot reading to vampires, ghouls and ghosts. He seems to be deciding which of them to purchase rather than try to blast through them all in one go. He selects one about mysterious disappearances and reads the back cover, flips around and skims some chapters before deciding against it, placing in on the left in the no pile.

Checking his phone before he starts in on the next one he apparently gets a kick out of something before texting Geoff back. The smile stays on his face as he picks up the next book, "Human Sacrifice and You: A how to guide"

The moment that Frankie breezes through the door she stops and calls out, "Elias!" To no response whatever. But if he's loitering anywhere he was forewarned that she is there. Left without supervision she begins to wander around the store, even being so bold as to go behind the counter to find a pen and paper, which gets a note written on it, then she drops it somewhere she is certain that someone'll eventually see it.

Friend duties accomplished she begins to head up the stairs, humming quietly to herself before she stops cold at the top of the stairs when she spots an actual, real live person there.

The entrance of someone below doesn't seem to bother Easton, he hardly even notices until he hears humming and footsteps coming up the stairs. But even in this sleepy town he didn't expect to have the shop to himself all day. He looks up from his book when the humming stops though, lowering it enough to give Frankie a raised eyebrow appraising look. He then does his best pleasant, no-i'm-not-local-nor-am-i-a-demon-coming-to-kill-you look which is getting a surprising amount of use as of late.

And after a moment, he returns to his book which is causing him to narrow his eyes in confusion in various parts, though he still hasn't made a decision for one pile or the other.

"You know that it's all about how to frame the ritual, right?" Frankie wonders as she spots just what book the man is reading, heading towards where he's sitting, dropping herself down across from him, her hands adjusting her skirt before she folds her hands in front of her, "Although, it helps to know who you are sacrificing the person to....I prefer babies and Itzpapalotl, that is her realm after all."

Then she leans forward to start looking through the rest of the books that he's got out on the table, picking up the one about tarot reading, flipping through it, "You ever have a reading done?"

Looking up from his book again, Easton's at first not sure what 'framing the ritual' even means. Her explanation thought causes him to nod sagely as if now they are totally on the same page. "Nice. I'm actually a human sacrifice virgin, if you can believe it. Not to be confused with a virgin human sacrifice. But I hear babies and old gods are a classic. Like a gin and tonic, you just can't go wrong with the classics some times."

He tilts his head and says, "No." And then looks at her a little bit more closely and nods before he asks, "Though I think yer the second person t'offer since I blew into town."

"You get a different result with a virigin, versus being one. Of human sacrifice." Frankie nods as she tosses the book back down onto the table, "I'm the best in town. I bet it was Gina that offered the first time, wasn't it?"

There is no real need for an answer, because she's looking out towards the downstairs, adding, "You run into her, you can tell her that her ice cream is freezer burned." Then she looks back, then back to the books, then at him, "So what's with the reading material?"

Nodding again as if taking this all in, he assumes in fact that she is just messing with him. Because while this town might be spooky and he's joked about outsiders being sacrificed to some local darkness, it's probably not the case. Probably.

"It was! Is that a sore subject? I mean if it makes you feel any better I'm still a virgin there and you'd be my first so long as you promise to be gentle."

He looks over the books and realizes that's probably a fair question. He says, "I just love a good ghost story and this place seems like it should have some really solid local whackiness. It's just got that kinda vibe to it." He doesn't lay it on thick, but something of course tells him that she knows damn well exactly what he's talking about.

"No. Gina's not bad." Frankie replies with a laugh, shaking her head at him, "She's just not a professional or anything. So that means that I am the best." She lifts a hand up, pressing it against her chest for a moment before dropping her hand once more. "If you want to drop by the shop sometime I can give you a reading, I can't promise that it'll be gentle, though." She tilts her head a bit, "There is plenty of really solid local whackiness."

Easton softly, 'ohs' as she explains the difference between her and Gina. He looks at her again and says, "Well obviously, you want to leave the important things like neurosurgery and fortune telling to the professionals." Yes, there is some light mocking there in that he doesn't believe a fortune told by a cookie or a professional will vary terribly in it's accuracy. But then again he reminds himself that he needs to be less sure of what he believes in a place like this. "Sorry, that's the old skeptic in me. I'd love to have you prove me wrong."

He smiles and asks the follow up, "Are you a local? I'm a recent transplant and I keep hearing about some of these strange happenings, but people seem light on details. Is there a collection of stories you could recommend? Or maybe just tell me your favorite?"

"I am a local, yeah." Frankie agrees with a nod, not seeming to take any offense to his scoffing at the professional bit. It's highly likely that she's heard this all before. Her 'profession' really is ripe for the mocking, afterall.

"I could tell you a few stories, sure..." She doesn't leap to it, though, her head leaning back against the chair, eyes falling closed. "I really like the one about the ghost that haunts the boardwalk. See, I grew up hearing that story, and working and living down there...so it is the one that sticks with me the most."

Mentally adding Frankie to the list of locals to pump for information and report back to the Subcommittee of Crazy-Ass Townie Affairs, he nods. But he gets really interested when she mentions the stories.

"Ooh. A boardwalk ghost. What's the story there?" He narrows his eyes a little and sets down the book in his hand, firmly in the 'no' pile. He leans forward and clasps his hands, evidently curious about what she has to say even if it's not so much true, it might still have some nuggets of information for him. Namely, WTF ghosts.

"Well, depends on who you ask. Some people say she drowned one night while out with her lover...hiding from her husband." Frankie lifts a hand, wiggling it just a bit, "The other story that I've heard is that her husband actually took her out and killed her because she was cheating on him."

Frankie sits up, leaning forward, resting her forearms on her knee, "It's a classic La Llarona story."

"Have you ever seen her? Or is this just one of the more I dare you to go to the boardwalk at 3AM and find out if she's real type teen stories that every town has?" It's a friendly question, as he's trying to keep any hope or edge out of his voice. He would love to just out right ask about ghosts, if they're real or not and all of the details but his usual straight forward tactics seem to get him nowhere in this place. It reminds him a little of a dream actually where things keep curving and twisting.

"And true confession I have no idea what La Llarona means, so I'm just nodding like I do."

"White woman...In the sense that she dresses in white, haunts the areas around water...has a thing for kids." Frankie smiles in amusement for a moment, "Mexican ghost story. But, there's a pretty big theme about women that have murdered their children before killing themselves, only to then come back from the grave and forever look for their little lost ones." That's what La Llorona is, at least. "But she's very real. And not in white, or searching for her lost children...mostly she just stands looking out over the railing, crying a lot."

"Ah, yea my Spanish is non existanto." As one might tell from the fact that he just made that phrase up. He looks like he follows and says "Yea, that sounds like a pretty standard sob story slash local legend." And yes, super sad but how often is it actually true versus some trumped up deal.

"Oh."

He stops when she declares definitively that she's real.

"Can you talk to this ghost? I mean not like as a medium, but can people? Do people?"

"People see her, not sure anyone has ever gotten a response from her, though..." Frankie tilts her head at him, smiling just a moment, "I've tried talking to her, when I was a kid. She never talked back, though. Just cries a whole lot...never bothers anyone. She's scared a few people, though, because where she stands it always looks like she's about to jump."

Frankie lifts a hand up, like her hand is the woman, sailing over the edge and into the water below. "You could always try."

It's reassuring someways to hear Frankie talk about a ghost like a matter of fact thing. Sure she too could be another town loonie, or just drumming up business for herself by playing on people wanting these things to be true, he knows that, but still. There is definitely a part of him that is relieved to be able to have this type of conversation.

"I might. I mean, who knows, couple decades of throwing yourself in the water, I might look like a good time. Just struck out with my last date, maybe I'll just move on to ghost fucking. She hot?"

"For a dead chick, sure." Frankie replies with a nod, "My height, red hair....or blonde. Light colored, she's sort of pale and misty...wears this adorable pink velvet flapper dress and cloche, though." She lifts her hands, indicating that she means a hat when she says cloche. "If either story is to be believed she was at least a woman of loose morals enough that she'd probably be into fucking some random guy that picked her up on the boardwalk."

"Alright, well that's definitely on my list of things to do in town now. Find a barber, join a gym, bang slutty jazz age ghost." He smirks and makes the rather obvious joke but can't help but silently wonder if he could actually hook Tom up. Because that would be some level 99 wingman shit to hook up your buddy in the great beyond.

"Oh, and where's yer shop? Or ... parlor? I need to add that to my list of things to do as well."

"Probably should do it in that order, too..." Frankie then lifts a hand up to stroke a finger against her upper lip, "Maybe grow one of those fancy mustaches, too. I bet that she'd love it, remind her of the shitty men that she knew when she was alive." She then reaches over to the book about ghosts from the pile, knocking a few over in the process, "This?"

She lifts the book up in case he somehow wasn't sure what this was. "Isn't going to teach you anything. Most of these things won't. Elias keeps good stock, but they're not going to teach you the ways of wooing a ghost." She tosses the book to the side before standing up, only to tuck her foot beneath her, settling back down, "Down on the boardwalk, wedged between shitty t-shirt store and sunglasses store."

Easton nods with all seriousness, "Well yea, gotta look my best first. And good point. Maybe grab some pants that go up to my chest, to get her in the mood." He only has a vague sense of what jazz age styling means but he's pretty sure it's super high pants. "I'd like to hope they set the bar nice and low for me."

Watching her swipe away the books causes a raised brow. "Oh yea? That's good to know, I'd hate to waste my time. I mean honestly I should just go to the source and get some solid Swayze tips on romancing the departed." It's a classic for a reason! "Unless that's one of your services? Or are you the more traditional I'm sensing someone close to you had died variety?"

"I'm sensing someone close to you has died." Frankie replies, her hands lifting up until her fingertips are resting against her temples, eyes closing, "I am...also sensing that you are escaping something. You've fled...." She pauses, her head tilting a moment to the side, "You are fleeing something that makes you unhappy, and are searching for something in life."

Then she drops her hands smiling faintly, "You probably are just needing to head to Seattle and hit up a club for what you're looking for."

"Do you have flashcards for the new guy in town? Like hmm, yes, I'm sensing an uncertainty in your aura." Easton quips back but has to laugh that fine, those things could be true, and if he were a bit more of a sucker he could in fact be taken in by that. He just doesn't say that outloud. He smiles and says, "Nah, I'm pretty sure I can find what I'm lookin' for here. I just gotta dig around a bit."

"Should I make an appointment, or will you just know when to expect me?" Yes, it's not a terribly original joke, but at least he doesn't laugh at it.

"You'll be by tomorrow by noon." Frankie says this with stunning certainty. Either, she senses it, or she's telling him that he now has a morning appointment and she expects him to actually show up to it. "But no...I don't have flashcards. I have tarot cards, though. And a crystal ball."

"You're right though, I bet you can find what you're looking for here. Usually, any of us, can. It's not hard...and tourist season will make it a lot easier." She might still be talking about his getting laid.

"I'll be there tomorrow by noon" Easton does his best automaton impression as if he's been brainwashed by the statement. But truthfully it will be good for him to have a reason to get up early considering he's had to put the majority of his workout routine on hold while his leg heals. He smirks at the crystal ball, but is curious to see if she actually does.

"Yes, I'm looking forward to reaping the drunken coed harvest." But he does react ever so slightly when she says 'any of us', as if wondering what she means by that. Or more accurately if she means what he thinks she means.

"Anyway. I'm Easton." He stands a little gingerly and offers a hand.

"Frankie." She reaches over, taking the offered hand and giving it a firm shake in return, "Tomorrow by noon. Bring fries." And although he got up and was obviously preparing to leave, right? She assumes at least as she hops to her own feet, "And lots of ketchup."

Parting words as she begins to head towards the stairs to make her own dramatic exit.