2019-06-02 - A Small Step in the Right Direction

Isolde had been gone all day long. All over town, exploring and doing just a little bit of shopping. There's two quick knocks on the door before it opens up and Isolde slips into the house. Humming happily to herself. Her hair is still a mess but she's wearing new clothes! Still obviously second-hand, but the blue jeans have no holes in them and the black t-shirt doesn't either. Where her old clothes are is anybody's guess. Probably in dumpster somewhere. The only thing that remained was the oversized flannel over it all. She had a small shopping back from the thrift store that presumably had a few more articles of clothing in it and hopefully a hair brush. "Hellooo!" She called out, not quite sure if Alexander was home, but figured the bird would be! Walking over to the cage and wiggling her fingers in a wave to it. "Hello again birdie." Then she was moving to set the bag of clothes on the couch and shed her flannel.

The cage door was open, so either Alexander was home, or the bird was even more clever than he looked. While the latter was probably true, in this case, the former was ALSO true, and Alexander was working on the aged computer in his office, and Luigi was actually in there with him, hanging upside down from a perch and trying to eat Alexander's hair. Both bird and man look up when there's a knock on the door, and by the time she comes in, Alexander is on his feet at the threshold of the office, and one hand is hidden behind the frame in the way that suggests something heavy and deadly is being obscured. He blinks. "Isolde." A pause, then a smile. "You exist. I'm glad." A curious look at the bag of clothes, as he walks into the room, hands conspicuously empty. Luigi flies in after him, doing two tight circles around Isolde before landing at the back of the couch to regard her with beady black eyes.

Isolde looked towards the office area when she heard movement and offering a smile to Alex. "I do! And so do you." Though she peered at Luigi - back to the cage - then to Luigi again. A little shake of her head. Tugging at her hair as if to remind herself of something. "Hello birdie." Having a brief staring contest with the avian. Then looking back to Alex. "Does it have a name?" She folds her flannel up neatly and places it on the couch. "I got new clothes. A little bit new. No more holes in them!" An emphatic nod, rubbing at the back of her neck as she looked between him and Luigi again. "How was your day?"

Luigi whistles briefly at the 'hello birdie', although he doesn't hop any closer to Isolde than he already is, apparently content to render judgment from a distance. "Luigi," Alexander says, with the briefest of smile. He repeats the bird's name, and Luigi's head bobs up and down as he whistles the first few bars of the Super Mario Brothers theme. Alexander moves to the cage, fishes out a small treat, and gives it to him. Luigi takes it with one foot, and chews with pleasure. A glance at the bag, then, and Alexander says, "Oh. I'd wondered. I would have offered mine but," he gestures to their respective bodies. "I'm glad you have some. I brought food. If you like barbecue." He sort of stands there, hands dangling, clearly feeling his way through hosting duties like a blind man through a maze. "It was...good. I went to the library, and I'm going to watch a statue bleed, later. How was yours?"

Well, Isolde just looks delighted when Luigi starts whistling that tune. She couldn't quite remember what it was from. It was vaguely familiar. She's certainly heard it before. Somewhere in the past times. "Luigi." She repeated, watching him eat the treat. "Joli nom pour un oiseau mignon. A cute good thing." Then her attention turned back to Alexander. A giggle and a nod. "I don't think that would have worked...the couch was good." She seems a little more...lucid today than she did yesterday. Some kind of sleep had helped her out probably. "Barbecue! I'd love some." Anything sounded good really. Isolde wasn't about to get picky.

"A bleeding statue?" Isolde looked intrigued by that. "Tell me about that. In the after." She nodded. It sounded like it would be a good story. "I shopped, and I went to the pond again. Magenta girl wasn't there this time, but the water was warm. She was right about that." Whoever the hell 'magenta' girl was. "...Thank you again. For letting me stay. Can I have paper?" Starting to walk towards the kitchen where, presumably, the food was.

"Magenta girl?" Alexander asks. He heads into the kitchen as well, and pulls take-out containers from the fridge. Pulled chicken, rice, cornbread, green beans, and mac and cheese are stuffed into each one. He starts heating them up in his small microwave, as Luigi suddenly swoops into the kitchen. Alexander turns and snaps his fingers at the bird. "No! The microwave is running." He snaps again, points at the cage. The bird frets for a moment, then turns and flies where it is directed, disappearing into the cage for a moment. A couple of pieces of fruit are hurled out onto the floor in a fit of avian temper. Alexander sighs, turns back to Isolde. "Bleeding statue. Or, crying one. Maybe. It's just an oddity. You can have paper. And pens or pencils. They're in my office whenever you need."

"Mmhm!" Isolde watches him pull the food out and her stomach rumbles just a little. She seemed to be about to say something when Luigi swooped in. She gave a startled gasp at both the swooping in and then Alexander snapping. Blinking a bit. A couple steps taken back towards the living room so she could peek at Luigi throwing his fit. Poor little guy. "Crying blood?" Isolde asks as she turns to look back at him. "An oddity among odd things. Worth further attention." She moved back to her original spot. "Smells good. Thank you." For the food, for the paper and supplies. "How long have you had Luigi? You didn't have him before, did you?"

The first container out of the microwave goes to Isolde, after Alexander spends a minute or two locating where his silverware is. He seems frankly a little surprised that he HAS silverware, and washes it before giving it to her. There's no dining table, so it's pretty much stand and eat at the counter, or go back to the living room couch. "Only a bit over a year. I took him instead of payment from a client." His lips press together at some remembered anger, but he doesn't elaborate. Instead, he focuses on her. "How are you feeling today? Did you sleep? He didn't wake you up, I hope."

Isolde studied him intently for a moment at the pursed lips, but she doesn't push either. Perhaps another time. Once all the containers are done, she'll move to the living room. Because sitting is better and she doesn't want Luigi to feel left out. Until then though, standing in the kitchen is fine and she takes a few quick bites out of the container. She leans against the counter, contemplating the question. A soft, thoughtful noise. "I'm...better. Slept a little. He did wake me up but it's okay." She smiled again, looking towards the living room and then back up at Alexander. "We had a good talk before I left. Maybe I'll sleep more. There were only a few bad things last night."

Once his own meal has gone 'ding!' and he's found another clean fork, Alexander follows her into the living room, sitting down on one side of the couch, leaving plenty of space for Isolde. He eats rather mechanically, most of his attention on her. Luigi continues to sulk in his cage for the moment, alternating between throwing food around, and hopping up to grab a tiny bell strung in the cage and ringing it angrily. Alexander ignores this. "I'm glad. Sleep as much as you need. I think...the bad things might be less. For a while. A short while, probably. But take what you can." He frowns. "And we will work on helping you focus."

Isolde moves her bag to the floor, sitting down and tucking her legs up under herself before starting to dig in. It's obvious she's trying very hard not to just scarf the food down. She hasn't had a proper meal in forever and this is the best food she's tasted in about as long. A glance every now and then towards the cage and Luigi. Curious, and maybe feeling bad. "How old is he?" Then finally turned her attention on to Alex again, shifting and resting her head against the back of the couch. "I hope so. The bad things make me tired. And then they don't let me sleep." It was very rude of them. "Focus will be better." She agreed, taking a few more bites of food.

"About three years old or so, I think," Alexander says, with a glance at the cage. "The man I got him from didn't know, but that feels like the right age." He doesn't elaborate on 'feels', rather turning his attention back to her. He seems to pick up on some of her emotions, and smiles, faintly. "Don't. Don't let him con you, Isolde. He knows he's not supposed to go in the kitchen when there's cooking. He's just sore." The amusement falls away at the talk of the bad things. "Yeah. They're assholes like that. Sorry. I play music. Sometimes it helps keep me from hearing anything I don't want to hear. You can borrow the stereo and headphones if you want." He frowns at her. "Did it get worse? After?" He eats slowly, barely paying attention to the food.

"He's a baby. So he's acting like one when he doesn't get his way." Isolde nodded in agreement, making the connection. "When he's not mad I'm going to talk to him more." Matter-of-factly. "Music. Maybe. Could be helfpul." She agreed. "Sometimes I count frogs and try to remember happy times." Her brow furrowed and he might get the sense that there weren't a lot of those times to choose from. Setting the mostly eaten plate of food aside, Isolde nodded. One hand toying with a lock of her hair, studying it as she spoke. "The shadows came for me. They got me once. Or was it twice? They tried to keep me but I tricked them. I had a lot of nightmares about that night...and they evolved and twisted and..." Isolde's voice trailed off, peeking back up at him. "And I just wanted to make them stop."

"He's a parrot," Alexander says, voice dry. "But, yes, a baby is a good comparison. And be careful. He's wary around strangers. He might bite." Pets and their masters often end up resembling each other, after all. Alexander settles back into the couch and listens, brow furrowed. "Yes. They do that. I'm sorry." He watches her carefully. "I'm glad you escaped. I don't think we can make them stop. It's just a matter of...continuing to fight. Until we can't." A cheerful soul, is Alexander Clayton.

"I'll be careful." Isolde promised, shifting again so she was sitting, facing him - knees drawn to her chest and chin resting on one kneecap. "Being defeated is temporary, giving up is permanent." Spoken softly, and as if she is quoting someone or something. "Fight, fall, get back up. Rinse, repeat. If we don't find the bad things, who will?" She shook her head a bit. "What about you? What brought you back to the Gray?"

"Exactly so, Isolde. Exactly so." Alexander rubs at his face, nearly stabbing himself with the fork before remembering it at the last moment and putting it aside. "Inertia, I suppose. It got harder. After the Dream. And all of that. I had a breakthrough with the seals, but I couldn't...the Brethren asked me to leave, eventually. I got in the way of the party." There's surprising little bitterness there, although not none. "I wandered for a while. Found another group ," read: cult, "but...they were, the leader was," he shakes his head, "I had to leave. I came back home. At least I know the terribleness here." He smiles, though, then. "It's gotten interesting, lately."

"A breakthrough? What kind?" Isolde was ever the curious creature. The seals had been an intense focus for her for that year she hung around campus. Hell, not even a year. Maybe more like six months. But they were a distraction, and a good one. One that made her think. "Crazy?" She asked with a wry little smile as he spoke of the other group. "The bad kind of crazy?" Because there were varying scales and spectrums of crazy after all. "Go back to what you know. A good idea." Head tilting slightly to lean into the couch again. "Interesting is good-bad. Or bad-good. Guess it depends on the situation. I think...this town will let me stay for a while. Because there is lots to be done."

"Not crazy," Alexander says, flatly. "Crazy, I could have sympathy for." Then he shakes his head, clearly reluctant to talk about that any further. Instead, he focuses on the first, and a smile blooms on his intense features. "Focus. I mean...the seals don't do anything, themselves. Obviously. Whatever it is that we /have/, I don't think it's...summoning and angels and demons sort of magic. But I discovered that I could do more than I thought I could. But it's harder, so I use the seals to help me focus." In the past, Alexander never admitted that he could DO anything - but even the other Brethren were often uneasy around him because he seemed to know things he couldn't, or people acted in odd and uncharacteristic ways around him. "Heal, a little. Grow things." He nods to the plants in the dining nook. "I practice. And yes, there is lots to be done." He turns his attention back to her. "You plan to stay, then? For a while? I'm glad."

Another conversation for another day. Isolde doesn't speak the word allowed, but the only other thing could be Evil. "I'm glad you left them then." Is all she says on the subject before listening to what he has to say about the seals. "You were shiny. I remember that. And I remembered not knowing what to make of it. You're more shiny now." A brief glance over of him before focusing back on his features. "Are there lots of shiny people in this town?" Isolde's eyes briefly flitted towards the nook, to the plants. "You did that?" Eyes wide with a sort of wonder.

"Shiny?" Alexander looks surprised. "Is that how it seems to you?" It's curious, even fascinated. "For me, it's always been - some people just stand out more. Like, the whole world is shot in Vaseline-coated lens except them. You." He rubs at his head. "And yes, Gray Harbor has a lot of them. More every day, it feels like. That's new. I don't...know why." And that bothers him; it's clear in the set of his jaw, his shoulders. He follows her look, though, and relaxes. "Yes." A pause. "Sort of. It's mostly fertilizer, sunlight, and following directions. But I practice. A little here, a little there." He jumps as his pocket begins playing a brief tune. He checks it, curses under his breath. "I have to...I have to go look at the statue. But here." He places the rest of his meal next to hers. "Whatever you don't want, put in the fridge." He leans forward, searching her expression seriously. "You'll be okay, until I return?"

Isolde nodded. "Like you're covered in a special sort of glitter." She looked curious at his own description. Trying to envision it. "Something is brewing..." Murmured softly when he spoke of more like them flocking to the city. "We will practice the focusing soon then." A touch of a smile - though a little startled when his phone went off. She should get one of those things eventually. Isolde doesn't lean away this time when he leans in to study her. "I'll be okay." Assuring him. "Take a picture for me." Turning again so she could pick up her container. "Luigi and I will watch TV."

"Toil and trouble," Alexander suggests, voice flat. "We already had the witches and everything." Then he stands, but continues to study her for a moment. A curt nod. "I'll try. And don't let him pick the channel," he warns, with all apparent seriousness. "All he wants to watch is trashy nature documentaries and food shows." Then he gathers his things and heads out.