2019-06-21 - A Dark & Stormy Night Around Town

"The power went out." Emily calls this from the front porch. She sort of expected the power to go out for a long time, 'cause of course it would, and so she and her book retreated to watch the storm where it was relatively dry and almost safe. She spends most of the evening out there, watching the thunderstorm. When it strikes the posts over on Elm Street? She's not surprised. When she can almost hear something burbling underground, something that almost has a voice? She's not surprised. When the foul stench of shit wafts on the wet breeze - again, from the direction of Elm Street? She's not surprised.

When the battery in her flashlight dies, though? She's surprised. And annoyed. She whacks it on her knee a few times, but that does no good. With a gusty sigh, she peels herself off the patio and goes into the terrifyingly dark house - where the guy she sleeps with insists he has conversations with the ghost of his dead wife, who just happens to be her dead sister.

This isn't terrifying at all.

"Logan? Logan, fix my flashlight."

It will be almost eight hours before the city manages to fix the power and the lights in the house come back on. Eight hours is a long time to be lost in the dark in a house you hate. Eight hours is a long time for that house to make spin you and stumble you and twist you. Eight hours is a long time, Emily.

The hospital goes black. For a second, everything is descended into inky darkness. Then, a heartbeat later, the backup generator kicks on. Alex lifts his head and watches the lights spark back into life. He should have gone home. He should have picked up Violet and left the hospital and gone back to his nice house and ridden out the storm. There were way better ways to spend a stormy night than here, in a half-powered hospital.

But he had made a decision, so here is where he is.

When the generator starts to die, Alex is in a bad place. He's doing doctor-things, and he needs the lights badly. They go off. All plunges into darkness. And he does the only thing he can think to do: he focuses on the tiny irregularity somewhere deep inside this man, feeling it, finding it, soothing it, fixing it. His eyes open to the dim glow of battery-back-up monitors, and he can see the irregularity beep-beep-beeping back into a normal rhythm.

He breathes out.

Inside him somewhere, Alex feels something knot up angrily. When he turns into that dark room, his eyes skim over the shadowy shapes that have clustered around, the wraiths and specters of all the other people in this hospital who have their little hurts and little irregularities. They want to know why, Doctor Reyes, why doesn't he fix them, too? When is it their turn for a prayer at their bedside?

Why, Doctor Reyes? Why not them? Why? Why not?

"No no no, mom you gotta stay in bed. It's going to be fine I'm just gonna-" Dahlia was working on backing out of her mother's room while her mother was insisting on trying to get up to help buckle down for the impending storm. Meanwhile she was also trying to talk to her oldest brother on the phone, "Don't worry about it. We're gonna be fine. You could just come down to see her." Closing the bedroom door behind her.

She sighed as her brother fed same old excuse he had been. "Yeah whatever. Listen, I gotta batten down the hatches or we're gonna end up like fucking Dorothy and get swept right over the rainbow." A beat of pause and sigh. "Love you too." Hanging up, Dahlia stared out the window of the trailer at some of the neighbors working to prepare. Even the asshole ones that made too much noise.

Out the door and down the steps, hollering over to the neighbor to see if they needed help and could help her in exchange. It was going to be a long night and what little light there may be was dying. Best to move quick and pray the trailer didn't flood. Or maybe pray that it did. Then she could just move her mom down to California with her until her time was up and neither of them would have to live in this stupid town anymore.

The lightening and cracks of thunder were not doing good things for Isolde's nerves. Alexander had rushed out the door to see what was going on but she felt paralyzed. Sitting there on the couch, gripping at the cushion like her life depended on it. Luigi was twittering somewhat anxiously, also not enjoying all this noise and Alexander wasn't here to calm him down.

She cast a glance down the hallway, where the bathroom was. But she'd already done the search. Alexander didn't have anything except some Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. Nothing that would help. It's okay. It'll be okay. Isolde tried to tell herself. "In. Out. Breathe." Murmured in quick succession, taking a slow and shaky breath after each series. There was another loud crack of thunder that caused her to scream.

It had also caused the power to go out. The shadows and darkness were starting to feel a little oppressive. Isolde fumbled for the flashlight that was on the coffee table. "It's okay." Isolde tried to say for Luigi's sake. Or maybe her own. Possibly both. The flashlight doesn't want to work. Lovely. Isolde can feel the panic rising in her chest. The flashlight gets a solid bang on the coffee table and that seems to do the trick. Slowly flickering on and glowing bright.

It feels like the darkness of the house doesn't lighten much, but at least she can see something and that lessened the panic. Her focus turns back to Luigi who was still seeming to be rather distressed and, Isolde can't quite explain it and maybe doesn't realize exactly what's happening but she feels a sharp pang of that distress herself and wanted to make it go away. Finally, Isolde manages to get to her feet to go over to Luigi's perch. "It-it's okay Luigi." She focused the flashlight on the cage, just below the bird so as to not potentially blind him. "We'll be okay. Alexander will be home soon. The lights will be back soon...and we will be okay." Her voice is soft and she repeats this sentiment and others along the same vein trying to keep them both calm.

The bar goes dark and really it's more of a mercy killing than a hit to it's bottom line. Few people were out braving the storm anyway and Easton had spent most of the night polishing glasses, chatting with the other staff and wishing he were somewhere else. The blanket of darkness just draws a deep exhale from his lips. Yes it doesn't last very long, since there is at least a backup generator to keep the fridges running and give some emergency lighting, but it's not enough to stay open.

"Alright folks, sorry we're going to have to call it. Please don't die driving home, because then you can't come back and drink here again, and that would make me sad." Nothing like a little dark humor to end a terrible night.

After getting the place closed up, Easton shuffles out into the pouring rain. It takes him a few minutes walking in the driving rain and wind to realize that he's not actually alone. He startles, realizing that there is a tall figure that silently slipped up next to him, but with the noise of the wind and the rain it's not too surprising. It takes him a few more moments to realize that the rain passing right through the man, and only a second more to realize that it's just Banks. Well, the ghost of Banks. Or something like a ghost that looks and occassionally sounds like Banks. Look, he's not sure about any of this.

"What the fuck Banks?! Where did you go? And why are you... outside?! You can do that?"

The figure of Tom "Banks" Richmond just shrugs impassively and walks alongside Easton. He doesn't try to speak or explain himself as the two walk.

Easton glowers (it's extra effective in the rain, try it) at the ghost of his dead best friend. He wants to tell him how relieved he was when Banks wasn't there, at the thought of not having to face him day in and day out. How much easier his life would be if he could just move on. How much he doesn't need the constant haranguing to look after Tom's widow and child.

Instead Easton's glower melts into a wry smile and he shoulder bumps the ghost, not that he can actually touch him it's just habit, and says, "Missed your stupid face. Asshole."

The rain had started to spit down out of leaden clouds about ten miles before Rand reached his exit off I-5. By the time he had turned the U-Haul onto the two-lane that wound northwards toward Gray Harbor, the spattering had become a steady patter, and then a downpour. It's nearly 6:30 PM now and coming down so hard that the truck's wipers only clear the windshield for a fraction of a second at each pass. Street lights smear like tracers. The thunder and rain on the roof of the cab are almost deafening, the lightning fracturing the sky like a broken strobe.

Rand, hunched forward and scowling, white-knuckles the wheel as he fights to keep the truck and car trailer between the lines. The U-Haul labors over the crest of the hill, and then he can just see the bay and lights Bayside below. "Shit... " he growls-exhales, his shoulders relaxing a fraction as the truck heads down toward the just visible sign for the Sea View Suites ahead on the right. "Welcome to Tenure-ville by the Sea--" And--altogether now--the lightning arcs sharp-white, thunder smacks like a fist, the truck hits a pothole that shakes the cab and causes something in box to fall with bang that can be heard above the hellstorm. And all the street lights go out.

"God damn it!" Behind Rand, something else falls over as he drives on in the dark.

A night at home, those were more common the broker one got and tonight's not any different. Lyric is just there on the sofa listening to the rain falling on the tin roof of her mobile home. Occasionally there's a flash of lightning. The storm was moving closer. The open windows were letting in a chill. Or was it the cracks between where the door didn't quite meet the frame? Didn't matter, it was an eerie night, just the feel to it. Reaching for a blanket over the back of the couch, Lyric wraps it around her and reaches for the remote control. Dinner was in the oven, just a tv dinner, but at least it was food and smelled good. Another crack of thunder and a flash of lightning and she visibly jumps. The power flashes, blinks back on then fizzles out all together. "Damn." An inconvenience. A look towards dinner. The wind picks up and howls, whistling through a broken window pane and the redneck fix of duct tape over it.

Then the shadows come. A quiet look in one corner as she notices movement, a small shadow that runs along the floor. Then there's a familiar one standing before her. "Hi Lizzy." Her voice is dull. Flat. The shadow she had been expecting since seeing that little girl at the abandoned house. "No. I don't want to go play in the rain. I've grown up Lizzy, you don't have to come around like this anymore." A flash of lightning illuminates the space where the shadow had been standing and she was gone. Until the flash fades. Then Lizzy is reaching for her and Lyric finds herself giving her hand as the shadow encourages. Then she's being led out into the storm...

Genevieve was curled up on a couch, watching the rain and the lightning and listening to the rumble of thunder. One of the books that she purchased from a Likely Story is in her hands, and she's hunched over it as she reads quietly. A particularly harsh rumble of thunder seems to shake the building and then with a muted click, the lights go out.

She isn't afraid of the dark, getting to her feet to shuffle across the apartment. She finds a candle, lights it, and raises it to look around. The shadows are deeper without power, and they almost seem to move. She grabs her book, climbs the stairs, and settles on her bed with the candle set down on her nightstand. This would probably be the best time for a nap.

At home in her own bed, Andi is laying on her side watching the sleeping man beside her. Her scanner is on though the volume is on low as not to disturb the sleeping mechanic. The storm was moving in and it was threatening to bring a lot of lightning and rain. Idly she traces a bicep, little shapes and letters.. until the power flashes then goes out. Sitting up, she makes sure that her bedmate isn't interrupted before taking hold of her scanner and she heads for the living room, turning up the volume. The power was out everywhere and something about a tree outside of town that had fallen over a road, cutting off short access. Nothing to be done about it. Then she's hearing something about the chief and the hospital and quickly radios in to offer herself if needed. She's told no for now so she walks over to the front door and opens it, taking a look outside. So many angry flashes of lightning but a complete townwide black out it appeared. For some reason, chills race down her spine and as a rush of wind races in to whistle through the screen door, scaring her so she slams the big door. That's when she turns and notices the mechanic in the door wearing a sinister smile as he approaches her. "It was all your fault, you know. Everything." He reaches out to touch her and it startles her awake.

She's alone in her bed and the scanner is going off saying something about power outrages all over the city. Sitting up, she draws the blankets around her and looks around the room at the shadowy corners. This storm didn't feel normal but she had no other option than to wait it out. She lights a candle beside the bed with a match book in the drawer of the bedside table. The wind blowing through the window and extinguishing the flame is a reminder that she had left the window open. Suddenly shivering, she rushes over and closes it then leaps over back to the bed to not get to close to the edge of it and whatever could be hiding beneath the edge. She'd be up awhile now. She holds the scanner, just wanting to hear voices to comfort her through the night. Even cops get scared of the dark in Gray Harbor.

It was a late night for Vivian, work, preparations for the coming week and sorting out schedules and appointments, how to find herself a receptionist on short notice. The storm outside is heard distinctly, the door out to the balcony having been left open as long as possible before on the way to get herself another glass of wine she is forced to close it or risk the rain getting in and ruining Byron's furniture.

Byron. Wine retrieved and Vivian moves back to the couch to pick her phone up, checking to see if there was anything else from him, just in time for the power to go out, then she lifts her head up looking around in the sudden darkness before the generator for the building kicks on. Then she grabs her wine and phone before moving to find some candles so that she can turn the lights off, taking some pressure off the generator. Then she retreats to the bedroom to ride out the rest of the storm from there, "It never stops raining..."

Big storm! First big storm since Aidan got here, and it's a while since he's been spending much time this close to the coast up here. Okay, he can't see the ocean from where he lives, but he DOES have a big bay window, and rain and lightning and things getting blown along the trailer park road should be fun to see too, right?

He adjusts the furniture so the couch has the best view, and sets the various snacks and such he's procured on the coffee table, 'cause you never know. Grabs a few of his blankets and turns on the gas fire, for coziness. And then flops down on the couch, head on a throw pillow against the arm, and pulls out his phone to send a quick text.

Also other things, but surely that's enough of a draw. And if he'd mentioned the Hershey Kisses, she might have been disappointed, because something's dumping over the bowl he poured them into and starting to throw them one by one. Mostly over the couch and deeper into the trailer, but some are definitely aimed directly at him.

"Fucking-- quit it!" Aidan says, "Go back on vacation wherever the hell you were after the play!"

Judging by the further flight of the Kisses, this is not a convincing argument. Aidan glares daggers at something no one else can see, and gets up, starting to pick up the chocolates. Instead of throwing more from the table, now it's the ones ahead of him, the one's he's reaching for, that skitter mockingly away. He grits his teeth and ignores the first two; at the third he loses his cool and whirls around, straightening, to hurl the candy in his hand at his tormentor. His aim's great. They fly right through. His fists clench as it laughs, then relax about the time he realises that's going to melt the ones he's got in his other hand, and he takes a deep breath. The candies near his feet toss themselves farther, tauntingly, all the way through the bathroom door.

"Okay, fine," Aidan mutters to himself, stalking after them. "'Oh I'd looooove to see a ghost, let's go check out that house, it's supposed to be hau--'"

Lightning strikes too nearby. The lights go out. A handful of Kisses fall to the floor.

"There is only a one in six hundred thousand chance that you'll be struck by lightning in your lifetime, and that usually happens when you're outside, not in," Violet murmurs to the blue-eyed cat sitting primly on the toilet as she finishes filling the big tub with water. Outside, the rain was coming down in heavy sheets, but it was just her and Blue and the fish in this house by the bay. She sends another quick text to Alex and sets the phone aside after it promptly buzzes back a reply; it was enough to know that he was safe, and that she was waiting here at home. Hopefully his shift would end before the roads got bad. "Don't worry your pretty head, Blue," she scritches the cat behind the ear and dips her toe into the water, before submerging fully into the water, taking in a breath of lavender bath oil and the scented candles that line the tub. The cat's bright blue eyes stay on Violet as the woman relaxes, stretching under the water and closes her eyes.

It takes fifteen minutes before the lights flicker, Violet blinking open her eyes to stare up at the bathroom bulb. It dims, flares bright, and then dies completely. She'd be blanketed in darkness had she not thought ahead and lit candles in the bathroom, the glow a comforting thing in a discomforting moment. "It's okay, Blue," she murmurs again, but there's a subtle tremor to her voice. There was no lightning outside, just the rain which seems louder now that the power's out and the house has fallen silent. She reaches a wet hand out and stretches it across the distance to push her fingers through the ragdoll cat's fur; Blue doesn't seem to mind the contact, even if Violet's fingers are damp. "We're going to be okay. Alex will be home soon, and we won't be alone. Maybe I should ---"

The shout of VIOLET! is only something that she can hear. It makes her sit up stock straight, the bath water sloshing against her skin, her eyes flaring open wide. Again, the voice in her head rings out, and she recoils back as though someone's screaming in her ear. Blue's head remains on her paws, though her ears quirk upward, tail swishing through the air. Hesitantly, warily, Violet reaches out - not with her voice, but in a different way altogether; but her inner voice cracks with emotion just like it would've if she said the words aloud.

<< Alice? Alice is that you?? >>

But before the response could come, something grips Violet's ankle. She screams aloud this time, but the sound is quickly garbled and drowned out as she's pulled under the water. Blue springs into action, jumps to the edge of the tub .. and finds nothing and no one there except a swirl of bath oil on the surface of perfectly calm water.

Storm watching is one of the mainstays of tourism on the Pacific Northwest coast, and why pay Bayside's frankly exorbitant rents if not for the fabulous views? And so it is that Vyv's comfortably ensconced in the Eames lounge chair, feet up on the ottoman, aimed so as to best take in the sights. He's in silk pyjamas and dressing gown, with a cashmere throw warming his legs and a good pot of tea on the end table beside him. And a book, which is not particularly conducive to the actual storm-watching, truth be told, but the rumble of thunder and patter of rain are pleasant enough when you're not in them, even if the lightning's caught more often as flashes than strikes.

Until the boom of that bolt that takes the power with it as it fades.

Vyv glances upward, where all the lights have become darks. "Typical," he mutters, as though this outage were the thirty-first, not the very first.

For a moment it's almost eerie -- the sort of rain-broken silence that makes one aware of the constant quiet murmur of civilization one usually takes for granted; the sort of darkness that only comes when it's just the moon and the memory of lightning illuminating the world. And for the first time, something else: he can feel a loss, a sort of stillness in the air that's nothing to do with the breeze.

It sends a stillness through him, as well. A held breath, and that silence is broken by the soft clank and hum of the elevator restarting; the darkness by the faint glow of the corridor's emergency lighting spilling beneath the front door; the stillness by the ghostly tickle of moving currents, even subtler than before, as his gaze darts around. But it's there. Definitely there, and now he knows it.

The breath eases out, followed by another almost as slow but much more deliberate, before his head turns toward the kitchen. He'd recognize that barely-audible hum even if he couldn't faintly feel the source. "Refrigerators on emergency power, mm? All right. Points for that one, Mr. Thorne."

Not full points, mind. Flashlights and candles are inconvenient. But points, nonetheless.